BABY!

It is with the greatest pleasure that I introduce to you...

Evangeline Georgia Princess Pony Party Amazing Douglass!



Born July 27th, 2008 @ 10:43am
18 1/2" Long
6lbs 3oz

I mean give me a break...this is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. Usually, they come out all gross and squishy, but she is perfect!

Jordi is healthy and happy and Ted has not vomited or fainted once. Of course he has the rest of his life to vomit and pass out regarding Evangeline...like when she tells them that she doesn't care that "Big Stinky" (her scuzzy, patchy moustached, unemployed, lead singer of the never to be famous band "Pussy Garage") is 10 years older than she is...she is going to move into his trailer and "you can't stop me Dad!"

I think Ted will puke and then faint...falling face first into the puke.

Biz's list of other moments in Evangeline's life that may make Ted Vomit and then Faint:

5. Evangeline announces that Carrot Top is a comedic genius.

4. Teenage fashion becomes more and more skimpy and on her first day of high school, Ted looks up from the kitchen table to discover Evangeline wearing, what is essentially, 12 well placed bandaids.

3. She says she doesn't understand "what the big deal is with Star Wars."

2. She becomes a member of an all-girl comedy team, who think that making out with each other and calling each other whores is comedy gold. (well...it is what TV deems funny...so he might just puke, pass out, then enjoy the new car Evangeline buys him.)

1. She announces that she is going to marry Bryan Shukoff.

Zing!

I can't tell you how proud and excited I am for my PrincessPonyParty Partner. She is going to be the best Mama ever. I know how special this baby was from her inception. Jordi is patient, kind, smart as a whip, clever and has such a wonderful sense of humor. There are no better qualities for a Mama.

Welcome Evangeline. Get ready to have the heck loved out of you by your amazing parents, your extended "sketch family," and of course...Auntie Biz.

I am already working on her first mix tape.

Great job making a person you guys!

love, Biz

EVERY ROSE: My Future Daughter's Road to Guaranteed Success on 'ROCK OF LOVE XXI'

("Evangeline? Will you stay in this house and continue to Rock My World?")

CURRENT STATUS: Still waiting for Baby Evangeline to make an appearance.

I'm on the non-US Government and non-French supported (but supported financially by Husband Ted) leave, and not a moment too soon. There still may be a whole week before she actually gets here. She could get here tomorrow. She could get here in perfect "sit-com season finale style" and start real labor right before our troupe is supposed to take the stage at our Sketchfest. I just really hope it's soon. My "chronic pain since mid-April" is at an all-time high. It used to be that for most of the day it was a dull, low manageable pain and then it escalated in the evening, now the pain is my 6AM alarm clock. I'm not only dying to meet our daughter, but I'm excited to have my old body back - not in the "fit in my old jeans" way, but the "I can't wait to not feel like this all the time" way. Here's where the complaining stops, but I had to get this out. This last month has been physically the most challenging thing I've ever had to deal with, but I still know that I'm the luckiest gal alive. That being said, on to the purpose of this post; to procure our future daughter a coveted spot on the Rock of Love XXI Final Two line-up!

Brett Michaels, star and creator of Vh1 "celebreality" hit Rock of Love, seems very comfortable milking his "I was in Poison" angle. Hopefully he'll still be strategically stashing his acoustic guitar in places ("Wait...how did this get here?") where The Chicks are, telling an endless well of women for years to come that every rose does have its thorn, until every rose has heard that song.

The first thing to be done is change Evangeline's name. Her chances really might be better if we just named her after a bunch of drug store shampoos. Pantene Finesse Tresmme Douglass (or even just 'Tre'Semme!') might be just the thing. On paper it looks like she smells really fancy.

If watching a Project Runway marathon did anything for me last week, it fueled my ABSOLUTE BURNING UNSTOPPABLE DESIRE to from now on sew all of my own clothes and the clothes of anyone I've ever met. This also means sewing clothes for our daughter. Uh oh! Get ready for the latest fashion bug to invade our home - the Baby Tube Top! Tube tops are the Top Ramen of sewing. Nothing is easier than making tube tops. Due to my recent state of "nothing really fits me right now", boredom, a heatwave and that I finally found out where our one pair of scissors were packed after our move, I've transformed a few of my old spaghetti strap tanks into very fetching strapless tops; a style I couldn't really pull off before because I didn't have the budding rack that I'm currently sporting. With a glitter-glue pen to write something adorable on these tops and making a mobile for the nursery out of saline implants and Carmen Electra pictures, I'd say our little gal is on her way. I can also try to MacGyver some of her onesies into tube-sies.

As she gets older (around age nine, but if anyone asks, she's really five!) Evangeline is going to need constant affirming that she's "hot" in some way (to go along with pretending to be stupid and seeing what she can get for nothing.) After thinking about it for a while, I think that cork wedge heels paired with Juicy shorts are the answer. Teetering around in a pair of Candie's on bark-dust is such a Bambi on the ice moment. Nothing is cuter! Also she'll get a bit of sympathy ("Will you just look at that adorable lack of judgment?") and as she fishes around her Louis Vuitton knock-off change purse for her Yoo-Hoo! money, the boys will no doubt want to help her out with a nickel or two. It would be their honor to help a playground hottie wearing a tee that says: "Learning Schmearning...I'm here for the boys!"

Around twelve or thirteen, it would be time to test Evangeline's mettle in the real world. The Portland Rose Festival is an annual two week long celebration filled with parades and visitors in the Navy who are looking to have some adult entertainment down-time in our fair city. The Pepsi Fun Centre is the central piece of the festival - a village of questionable, hastily put together rides packed with a crowd of muscle car drivers and their families, dragging around three toddlers each - all sporting a ring of Kool-Aid and dried pudding around their tiny mouths. The parents carry their version of a homing beacon; an over sized plush basketball playing Taz or puffy plastic Hulk on a stick. The Pepsi Fun Centre is also the place to be for eighth grade boys to scope out the real live Bratz dolls from their classes in a joyful weekend environment. This is where Evangeline (or by now, Pantene) is going to get some serious training from her classmates. Like Rocky training in the Soviet snow, my daughter will walk the length of the Fun Centre back and forth until she gets A) a free elephant ear or corn dog from either a sailor or man-possum trolling the area or B) an offer of a free Old Tymey sepia toned photo where she's dressed like a Wild West hooker. She may even get in some kind of scuffle with another female of the same ilk because a well-meaning carny let her cut the line of The Inverter! It's never too early to learn verbal bitch-slapping. It will really come in handy during the episode where Brett Michaels poses the challenge to the girls of Rock of Love XXI to have a verbal bitch-slapping contest, ending with washing a goat in a bikini. I don't think I need to tell you that Evan needs to be on her toes for this.

It's also during this time that Ted will have to make the huge sacrifice of not being the amazing father that he is destined to be. Let's face it: in order for our little girl to grow up and be on Brett Michaels' short list, then Ted will have to become Captain Von Trapp and about twenty times dickier. He will have to ignore her at all costs only to break the silence with an occasional: "Hey! Albert Frankenstein! No dude will ever like you if you keep reading those fancy books about sciencemath!" Ted will really have to keep a lid on his encouragements and just tell Evangeline that she's as good as the wisdom written on her midriff tees from Forever 21 ("I'M Not High Maintenance! YOU'RE Just Lazy!"). If this sounds harsh, we know it is. But just think about the weekend in Cabo that Brett has planned for the both of them as he has to make up his mind choosing between her, and Champayne-Dest'Nee from Arkansas (already no match for our Evan!) Think about the happiness ahead! I do all the time.

You all have my Princess Pony Party Promise that I will do everything and anything in my power to make sure that our daughter will grow up confused, stupid and with plenty of low self esteem. She will rely on her looks and shake that ass when the going gets rough. She will wear squares of fabric and spell things with numbers and single letters. Books will be something she uses to put on top of the fake gems she just glued onto her bikini top to make sure they stay put. Whenever someone asks her a question, she will look to her boyfriend to make sure it's okay to answer. Her voice will sound like a six year-olds when she's thirty and she will dress like a thirty year old when she's ninety. I promise that she will have something for you to read on her chest or ass so you won't be bored while she's serving you your hot wings. I will birth a quality product for your future enjoyment to either entertain at the local boat show or tease you from the cover of a magazine where she's almost taking off that bikini bottom (but not quite - it depends on what those thumbs slung snuggly decide to do...)

Lastly - I have the kind of past that just might knock Evangeline into the lead during the Rock of Love XXI "Meet the Parents" episode. I will even feign amazement when Brett sings "Every Rose Has Its Thorn". (Again.)

Just wish our baby girl luck, and us luck in our quest to be the most Awesomest Parents
Ever!

(Get ready...here we go...)

J.

Guess Who Had a Shitty Birthday Party

This guy! (...and by association this girl!)

(note to self...cheap fabric and bad positioning equals giant hip illusion...ILLUSION!)

Awesome right! Shitty Slave Leia and a Shitty Storm Trooper...who I like to imagine is actually Han Solo dressed as a Storm Trooper.

However, my breast plates look a tad like snails...but I think that adds to the theme of the party which was "World's Shittiest Costume Party."

I know, Stefan and I have pretty rad costumes for "shitty" but keep in mind that is all cardboard. Even my chain. I can't help it that I am AMAZING with card board.

In lieu of a band this year, we had karaoke. Can't get much shittier than that. The machine was delivered on Friday. I know you are asking yourself, "What are Biz and Stefan gonna do with a karaoke machine the day before the party?"

SING! All night. Don't ever think that Stefan and I will grow tired sitting alone in our apartment singing karaoke all night. Brother won't. And to add a layer of awkwardness to it, we had a house guest, who I haven't seen in like 8 years, who basically had to sit there and watch. "Hi, welcome to our home. Please enjoy us singing karaoke...for hours!"

Theming wise, Stefan did a great job...all signage was black sharpie on ripped up cardboard. The bathroom was labled "The Shitter." Good news! Stefan wants to keep that sign up...forever. (cough)

He made drinks...one cooler was called "Number 1" and looked like pee...pee apparently tastes like bananas. Who knew? The other cooler was called "Number 2" and was brown...what tastes like shit you ask? Long Island Iced Teas. I could have told you that with out the party.

I think I really added a touch of class by hanging a sign above the drinks that said "If it's yellow let it mellow (and drink it), if its brown drink it down." The definition of class.

We had a very good turn out and everyone came dressed as something...which we loved and stayed all night and sang and danced and had a blast. It was really an excellent party.

Sadly, most of the pictures came out like...shit...har dee har har....but below is what we got! Enjoy!

Here are Jay and Jaime. Jay claims to be someone from the Mets, but I don't follow baseball and prefer to think he is a shitty baseball fury from The Warriors. Jamie had my favorite costume.

Take a close look. On top there is a metal spider, she is wearing a cowboy hat and cowboy style clothing and on the hat there is a picture of Will Smith. You got it yet?

She is Wild, Wild West...aka...WILL SMITH'S SHITTIEST MOVIE! I love this so much. Bravo!

Something else I learned about Jaime at the party is that she loooooooves karaoke.

Greatest discovery ever. Look at that face! That is a face of pure joy.

This is a face of pure...something...

Looking good Arron...Juice Newton really moves me too. (Ok, he wasn't singing Juice Newton, but I love this picture.)

Another favorite costume was Livia who came as Biz at a corporate offsite.

I think she nailed my "look." You know the one that says "Please...just don't."

Ladies and gentlemen...I give you Shitty Slash from Guns and Roses.

Action Shot.

More favorites are Monica Hill as a Lower Case T and Olivia as a Chick Magnet.

We have the lovely Shayna as a Wedding Present

(if you can't see, there is a Crate and Barrel ribbon tied around her) and Katherine as a Dread Lock.

Who is that behind them? Oh, that is just a giant turd. For some reason, i have held on to this costume that comes with muscle arms and a brown...well...turd suit and together the costume is called Tough Shit. I think the word is again....class. Anyway, we decided we could give it away as the prize for the best shittiest costume.

Here is Chris O'Connor...what is he? Well....

He is a Detective...who happens to have...

...a dildo for a hand. It's not his fault. He is a detective.

Did I mention this should have been called the Classiest Party in the World?

Ok...here is Hilda in another brilliant costume. She is a LOOFA! Bravo! I love it!

I have no idea who these ladies are. I assume they are pals of Stefan. They were conjoined twins and i give them total props for staying like that ALL NIGHT! It was quite impressive.

Guess who this would be a personal hell for?

That's right...Corporate Offsite Biz.

Ok...so the top five costumes were Shitty Slash, Shitty Will Smith Movie, Shitty Baseball Fury from The Warriors, Noelle as a Bad Habit (sorry, no picture) and finally, the winner...

Stefan Sux!

And here is one last shot of Shitty Slave Leia and Shitty Han Solo as Shitty Storm Trooper.

Hopefully we will get more pictures or at lease links to pictures soon from people who know how to operate a camera.

Ta ta, Biz

PEOPLE PAYS $11,000,000 FOR FIRST PHOTO...

J.

"THE PAUL LYNDE HALLOWEEN SPECIAL" (1976)

(L to R: Gene Simmons, Ace Frehley, Peter Criss, Paul Lynde, Paul Stanley
Witches in Front: Billie "Witchipoo" Hayes, Margaret Hamilton.)

The other night before turning in, Husband Ted bounded into the room like Tigger carrying a Netflix envelope wearing a giant grin. "What's that?" I asked in a resigned tone. Our Netflix adventures of late haven't been so stellar. Ted picked a few flicks based on impressive past bodies of work by good directors and casts, but somehow what should have been a few really great movies turned out to be raging pieces of shit. We turned one off after fifteen minutes. Yick.

"It's a surprise!" Poor man. I like to think that I'm a little bit unorthodox and edgy, but I am the worst at surprises. I actually hate it when people say that things are "a surprise!". I especially hate: "Close your eyes and hold out your hands!" I always think it's a snake.

When I saw the shoddy quality and the words 'Paul Lynde' hidden within the INTERPOL jibberish, I knew that this was going to be something pretty great. It would have to be, to make my Darling smile at me like that.

"The Paul Lynde Halloween Special" is delightful, one of the craziest things I've ever watched and with its "story", it makes no fucking sense.

It opens with Mr. Lynde on a variety show stage, welcoming you the viewer, cracking wise with that shaky and perfectly timed cadence - an accent from a land where one syllable words are five syllables, and delivering punchlines as only he can do. Margaret Hamilton (Oz' Wicked Witch of the West) plays his housekeeper who pops in and out of frame with set-ups and punchlines of her own. All is pretty banter-y, then suddenly a dance number featuring devils happens, and Paul Lynde ends up getting shoved into a garbage can by toothy Mormon devils Donny and Marie Osmond. In the next sketch, he's in a car with Housekeeper Margaret who is driving him out of town to "get away from all the kids during Halloween". It's confusing as hell but you're buckled in for the ride.

Margaret drives him to her sister's house called Gloomsbury Manor, or something like that. (Oh no! Gloom!) A vulture guards the door. (Oh no! A vulture!) We find out that Margaret Hamilton's sister is Witchipoo from H.R. Puffenstuff (Eh?) Margaret Hamilton snaps her fingers and transforms into her Wicked Witch character which was extremely unsettling.
If you grew up with a sacred vision of the character of the Wicked Witch of the West from the film The Wizard of Oz, then you shouldn't rent this. What Margaret Hamilton does with her iconic character is really strange. If you'd like to see what the Wicked Witch looks and sounds like as a Catskills comic, then you should see this right away. It just takes a little getting used to.

I should mention that Billy Barty is their butler.

So - Paul Lynde and the witches are jokey-joking away (courtesy of Bruce Vilanch, the "go-to" Oscar banter writer) when the witches grant Paul (and I don't know why) three wishes. Of course, right away he wishes to be a truck driver dressed in a blinding-white rhinestone outfit driving an eighteen wheeler (What?)

The next scene is Paul driving a truck and talking into a CB radio to Special Guest Tim Conway. This is where it gets a little weird; Paul Lynde says something to Tim Conway to make him die in a fiery truck crash and then he laughs like a maniac about it. Tim Conway is then back as another character in another truck, before Paul tries to run him off the road as well (due to that they are both engaged to the same diner waitress; the woman who played Pinkie Tuskadero on Happy Days.) They both race to the diner (where Billy Barty is the cook!) and they have some kind of contest. (Zing!) Suddenly, Paul is back at the manor with the witches (after the dance number about CB radios.) Margaret Hamilton suggests a little "chamber music" and introduces (unsettling!) Special Guests KISS who lip sync "Detroit Rock City" happily knowing that there will probably be some poon and Southern Comfort waiting in a bus somewhere after taping.

Paul's second wish is to be a Valentino-type sheik in the desert, seducing Special Guest Florence Henderson who is a vile black hole of acting. Their sketch was pretty sleepy and I swear I thought that they were going to duet "Midnight at the Oasis". They didn't, but mentally I had ten bucks on it. I'm still surprised this didn't happen.

Back at the witches' place, Peter Criss of KISS sings "Beth" and actually looks genuinely rung with guilt at being on the road so much. (Just what can he do, Beth? What?) Margaret Hamilton then introduces each member of KISS by first name to Paul (unsettling!) Paul Lynde gives his third wish to the witches themselves, who wish to go to "a real Hollywood disco". (And there it is. I was waiting for the "disco scene". I was! Oh no! It's really happening! The Wicked Witch of the West is about to disco dance and there's nothing I can do but watch!)

Florence Henderson sings the song "Disco Lady" while descending a flight of stairs, accompanied with very unnecessary extreme close-ups of her quivering mouth. Anyone who ever set a foot on "The Paul Lynde Halloween Special" dances. Except for KISS who watch the disco from above on a balcony.

Goodnights are said, then everyone goes home to kill themselves.

Though it made us say: "What the fuck?" quite often in its surreal-ness, "The Paul Lynde Halloween Special" may have packed a wonderful punch of awesome/awful, but at the heart and soul of it is Paul Lynde; who in all seriousness was a wonderful, beloved performer and is someone missed from this world. If you feel the same way about this underrated comic genius, then the DVD has a bonus: an interview/scrapbook with Peter Marshall, a friend of Mr. Lynde and "Lynde-storian" who talks about the shy gay man of Hollywood Squares, who was who he was, in a time when being "out" in the business was unheard of.

Paul Lynde was a pioneer, and I love you Uncle Arthur from Bewitched, but this special was crazy. It made no sense at all and we had a blast watching it. So you should get your hands on it immediately.

(48 hours after watching: Disco Wicked Witch is still unsettling.)
J.

"Surrender, Listen & Learn"

(Above: Typhoon looks forward to meeting his human-sister by singing Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely?")

So, for those of you playing the home game of PPPA, you might know that my husband Ted and I are expecting our daughter any week/day now. We have never been in such a situation before and have never felt so lucky to be in this situation. I have also never been such an absolute parasite for learning.

When this first all came about, I was stubborn and steadfast in my beliefs about what I wanted to happen. I have never seen an actual birth before. All of my experiences with birth were in the forms of television and movies where a gurney races down a hall to thumpy, pulsing tragedy violins and a handsome doctor says curtly to a paramedic: "Okay chief, what do we have?"

PARAMEDIC: Female! 35 years old! She was just going into labor when a glass piano fell on her skull! We only have minutes!

GEORGE CLOONEY: Dammit! Get me 300 cc's of medicine stat! I haven't lost a baby before and goddamn if I'm about to start now!

Either it's this scenario or something similar, but it's never a birth that makes women want to experience actual birth. Even in shows like TLC's A Baby Story (not the TLC featuring Left-Eye), it's always covered head-to-toe in "DRAMA!". That show really should be called A Fucked Up Baby Story. Every single tale is a cautionary one, leaving the viewer to sigh "Well that settles it. I can't go to the kitchen for cheese and crackers until I know that the baby born with the heart outside its chest is okay after the operation". It's never Mr. & Mrs. First Time Parents in a smooth labor, followed by bringing home the child and showing the first bathing, feeding and changing. ALL stuff first time parents can benefit massively from. But it's not as sexy as a wolfbaby with a face covered in hair, I guess.

So when we found out that we were pregnant, I made sure to scare myself shitless and go online and scour for anything and everything that could possibly go wrong with the birth of our child. I made sure to cover c-section horror stories as well as facts about how c-sections are used as a method to get doctors out of the office on time to make that Hoedown themed cocktail fund raiser for their country club. (There is some actual truth to the c-section research; over 30% of deliveries in the States are performed by c-section and not all of them necessary. But they're still an efficient way to deliver a baby safely.)

I had a vision of what I wanted for our birth: I wanted candles, a tub, being surrounded by just a midwife and my husband and to do this naturally. I cried at the mere thought of a c-section. I believed that a lot of c-sections were a way to get out the mothers as fast as the hospitals could. On top of that, I believed that c-sections weren't a 'real' way to experience birth because they weren't vaginal (or as primal.) I feared the risk of not bonding as 'well' as a vaginal birth. I pictured a room full of relatives all passing around our baby while I slept off a mountain of drugs and then upon waking, our baby looks at me and says (in her first words...and sounding like Bruce Willis): "Who the fuck are you?"

Unfortunately, it has taken the first half of my pregnancy to wise up a bit and learn a few things, but I'm really appalled that I could think this way about ANY mother who has been through a c-section. I apologise sincerely to any moms reading this who have had a c-section and I bow down to you. Whether babies come out of a tummy sliced open, a birth canal or out of our noses or ears - it's an amazing feat of what bodies can do. Bonding happens no matter what, and any baby is a miracle. In April when Ted and I first started having a few complications, the possibility of a c-section came up and I really had to let a LOT of things go. Immediately gone were my Little House on the Prairie thoughts of a serene birth in a tub. When our Midwife trotted out the blunt "high risk" baby doctor (who laid out a few cold, hard facts), I decided that very night spent in the hospital (while being monitored for contractions I wasn't supposed to have) to "Surrender, Listen & Learn". Because I own a computer that gets the internet, it does NOT make me a doctor or a skilled Midwife. It has certainly helped as far as gaining information, but my birth plan right now is to not have one. I am open to anything that is going to get our daughter out of my body safely. I welcome a c-section as much as a vaginal birth and know that the bonding will be as strong with both. As far as going naturally, well...I honestly don't know how well I could cope. Before learning of my fibroid tumors (the things that have been causing me a lot of pain for the past few months), I was too scared to take any medication at all, but I have been taking moderate painkillers and these are the only things that have helped me to not stick a fork in my eye out of frustration. If I'm in a situation where I can give birth through the ol' Lady Garden, I will nobly try to suck it up, but if I'm in a position where I need help managing my pain, I will ask or yell for an epidural, and I won't feel like I "failed" because of doing this. I know that a lot of women highly recommend pushing through that wall of indescribable pain (some even boldly call out their sisters for being caving pussies), but I'm not sure I'm made of that kind of steely resolve. Also, I have nothing to "prove". I just want my daughter to exit my body and be okay.

Speaking of Listening and Learning, it is currently what I've been driving people crazy with. Every day I have a new question for my Mom and Mother-in-law. I just sent my aunt twenty questions about her own labor. You know how people get bored looking at other people's vacation slides? I'm the opposite. I'm that gal on a rockin' Saturday night at the optimum getting laid hour, pounding on the door of the elderly couple who just got their 30 rolls of film back from their trip to Ohio and I'm begging them to: "Please tell me all about your trip! Show me your pictures, and don't leave anything out!" I scare old people with my tenacity and enthusiasm and I think I'm starting to scare family members who are mothers. I am a sponge, hell bent on gathering tips and philosophies because my philosophy is also: if I don't care for the advice (or it doesn't work for me), then I don't have to use it. But I'll at least see what people have to say. A girlfriend today said that cabbage leaves soothe sore nipples. That's enough for me to go to the produce section on Day One of breastfeeding - and happily with a spring in my gait! This is also good information for those of you who don't breastfeed, don't you think? See? There is SO much to learn from everyone for everyone.

I have a hope to not only the best mother I can be to our daughter, but the best person I can be, the best friend to my friends, the best friend-wife-lover-partner to my husband and the best self to myself.

I dedicate this post to Evangeline Georgia Douglass, the most wanted and most loved baby there could ever be. I am Surrendering, Listening and Learning. I am trying.

We'll see you (most likely) in a few weeks, Little Monkey. Whichever way you want to come out, your Dad and I will be there welcoming you, waving our hearts at you.

As we stumble along making glorious mistakes and wonder-filled discoveries, will you still accept us as your parents and show us the way to the stars?

J.

Steely Oates

I heard the Hall and Oates sampled-many-times masterpiece I Can't Go For That the other day and re-fell in love with it. I will be the first to admit that Hall and Oates are REALLY great. Like Steely Dan great. Last year I searched for a lot of Steely Dan songs that I only knew pieces of lyrics to, but were lost on titles. All I had to go off of were childhood memories of hearing the songs over and over, but never knowing what songs they really were. I had to Google the following lyric remembered by my 7 year-old self: "drink scotch whiskey all night long / and die behind the wheel". It turns out that Steely Dan are the Kings of Pervs. Every song is about getting an underage chick high on cocaine and then dying in a car crash. Well...not every song, but most of them. All of their songs are basically Hey Nineteen. (R. Kelly if you're reading this, you should sample Hey Nineteen because it would be really funny.)

If Steely Dan were food, they'd be cheese cubes with Ritz, a bowl of olives and some kind of dip that smells like a swingers' house.

Where Hall and Oates have a LOT of soul, Steely Dan DO NOT. But both are really great and different than each other. This is prompting me to write the following:

THE PROS AND CONS OF STEELY DAN AND HALL AND OATES

STEELY DAN PROS:

1. If you're a swinger and have a couple over, you don't even have to try with Steely Dan on the HI-Fi.

2. Their music can be used for foreground or background music. That's hard to do as most music you either notice right away or it's bland as dentist office wallpaper. Steely Dan is something that if you choose to notice it - it's really great and if you choose to not notice it, then you don't notice it at all.

3. They're tricky! They're one of those American sounding British Bands. Who else is? America (Ventura Highway, Horse With No Name) made music tailor made for a Southern Californian bonfire in the 70's but were as British as could be. Steely Dan's music is what you'd hear on a houseboat in San Francisco during that same time. They sound very American. 10cc and Supertramp have the same thing going on.

4. There's only two of them. (Take up less space? Less of them to fight?)

5. Their music is timeless and seem to favor unusual measures and chord changes - it's very clever. Peg is a song I can play eight times in a row and still be in a great mood. In fact, the more I play it, the more I love it.

6. One night as a kid playing "grown-ups" (true story) my friend Penelope and I played my mom's Steely Dan Aja record, opened the patio door so we could hear the music and stood by the fire pit while pretending to smoke with twigs we'd stick in the fire. To us, Steely Dan was the ultimate in grown-up music. It was the mellowness of the dreamy keyboards, the lazy horn section and the vocals which heralded a party winding down...or (if you were my parents' friends) just getting started. I wish I remembered what we "talked" about as grown-ups. It was probably tennis related.

STEELY DAN CONS:

1. Getting away with the same schtick for years. You can smell a Steely Dan intro from miles away.

2. The creepy factor; they make it pretty clear that they like very young girls and love to get them drunk on "the Cuervo Gold" and high on "the fine Colombian".

3. I bet "partying" with Steely Dan is actually boring as hell.

4. They look like your Dad's friends.


HALL AND OATES PROS:

1. They are absolutely FULL of soul. I Can't Go For That has been sampled at least three times by different artists.

2. They can take comfort in that everyone on Earth knows who they are and pretty much everyone on Earth likes them.

3. They can switch it up; Hall and Oates have a gigantic discography of impressive hits and they don't all sound exactly the same.

4. Emotional response: Hall and Oates trigger more memories for people than say, The Pointer Sisters ever have or ever will.

5. People will always go see them. They are beloved and with good reason.

6. Daryl Hall was on Flight of the Conchords, giving him some cool cred.


HALL AND OATES CONS:

1. Daryl Hall at one point started turning into a lion:
2. There's only two of them, but they seem like two guys you'd want to hang out with (D & H have been known to poke fun at themselves), whereas Steely Dan seem like they'd be douches from the get-go.

3. I can't think of anything else.

4. If Daryl Hall goes full-on lion before long, he might try to eat your face. But he can't help it if he's a real lion.

-J.
(About to have our baby any day now for those still with us.)