For the longest time I thought the 13.1 and 26.2 oval stickers on the backs of cars were Bible verses. Then one day I was plunking down 90 bucks in a running store for my daughter’s track shoes, and the stickers were on the counter. Of course I had to ask. The zero-body fat salesperson explained that they meant a half marathon and a full marathon. Running may not be my first language, but English is.
Honk If You Hate Bumper Stickers
I don’t care if you’ve run 13.1 miles, if your kid does ballet, or if you went to Penn State. Using your car as a personal billboard is tacky.
Who’s Ready to Tweet Lindsay Lohan’s Funeral? #SoSad
You know, now that we’re done Facebook-grieving Whitney Houston.
I don't know if you heard, but Whitney Houston died. If by chance your response to that statement was, “No, I hadn't heard,” please let me know how the cave decorating is going. Because there can be no other reason other than a primitive domicile far away from the civilized world that would explain how one avoided the avalanche of public mourning for the pop diva, who turned up dead in a bathtub in Beverly Hills a week and a half ago and was buried, with considerable pomp and circumstance, in New Jersey this week.
Who Wants to See an Actor Fall Apart on Stage?
BRAT Productions will perform The Bald Soprano over and over again for 24 hours.
At 8 p.m. on Friday, a member of BRAT Productions named Megan Slater will usher in a performance of The Bald Soprano with the line, “There, it’s 9 o’clock." Twenty-four hours later, at 8 p.m. on Saturday, all six exhausted actors will utter, in unison, “It’s not that way, it’s over here!” thus concluding the performance. During the 24 hours in between, the six actors on stage will be performing The Bald Soprano repeatedly. Non-stop. With no breaks, no sleep, and only a few minutes per showing to grab a sandwich before rushing back on stage.
Was Shane Victorino’s Cameo on Hawaii Five-o Better Than the Phanatic’s Cameo on 30 Rock?
Ranking the Phillies on TV.
Hawaii Five-0 is a violent show. Not just violent for the standards of network TV, but violent for the standards of Hawaii. The state average has averaged around 24 murders the past few years, while an average of 24 people are murdered on every episode of Hawaii Five-0.
It is with relief, then, that I report that Shane Victorino’s character was not murdered during his cameo last night on the show. In fact, he made it out completely unscathed, with the only person killed near his scene was a man dressed as a Hawaiian NaKoa warrior.
As the Phillies get better, more and more Phillies show up in minor celebrity cameos on TV. Sure, the-Phillies third baseman Scott Rolen made a Saturday Night Live cameo in 1997 and there was a (probably unauthorized) Phanatic cameo in The Simpsons’ 20th season, but the guest stars have really ramped up in recent months. Even radio announcer Scott Franzke was on an episode of Kitchen Impossible!
As such, I’ve rated four recent Phillies TV cameos. Since they’re all pretty tacky, they will be judged by numbers of ill shirts.
Review: Bruce Springsteen Exhibit at the National Constitution Center
Casual fans can appreciate the show, but it’s designed for the most hardcore Springsteen fans.
The National Constitution Center is arguably one of the most confusing tourist attractions in our history-steeped town. The Constitution doesn’t even live there! And the programming can be a little … strange. (Remember the Princess Diana exhibit?) But, this time, they’re housing an exhibit that is as American as apple pie and fun to boot.
This Sunday, Matt Groening’s The Simpsons will air its 500th episode—a television milestone that’s never been replicated by any other scripted television sitcom. Like many people, The Simpsons has truly been an integral part of my life. I was 11 years old when the first episode aired on December 17, 1989. (Though true fanatics should note that I was eight for the first airing of the sketch during The Tracey Ullman Show on April 19, 1987.) My grade school quickly banned any and all Simpsons paraphernalia, thanks to t-shirts emblazoned with “I’m Bart Simpson. Who the hell are you?” My parents, at first, did not allow us to watch it (just like the other FOX bastion of bad taste, Married… with Children). But, somehow—mostly through watching a friends’ houses—I saw every episode. Though recent seasons (“Worst. Episode. Ever.”) will never compare to its genius beginning, it still remains immensely influential and a true must-see TV every Sunday.
So in honor of the 500th episode, here are my choices for the five best episodes of all time.
Clybourne Park Tackles Racial Issues With Finesse
The Arden’s outstanding cast makes this Pulitzer Prize-winning response to A Raisin in the Sun a must-see show.
Stepping into the Arden Theatre’s Arcadia Stage you are immediately transported. From the program you already know that the first act is set in 1959. But looking at James Konzer’s stunning set for Clybourne Park, this written information is superfluous. From the wooden staircase and worn living room furniture, it feels permanent and classically familiar—as if it could be the setting for other familial masterworks set in that period, like Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. To then watch, during the intermission (as I strongly recommend that you do), as the stage crew transforms it into a dismantled, dilapidated home in 2009, you realize that this play is something new.
Why Men Cheat on Their Wives
Don’t blame Facebook, ladies. Some men are just wired to be unfaithful.
Dear Monica, After being in a long-term failed marriage, I still do not understand why some men cheat and some are so loyal. I honored my vows. Why didn’t he? —M. D., Abington
Last week, I missed out on The Darkness, a cheeky British glam-rock band who played a sold-out show at the Trocadero. As a small consolation, an old friend who lives in Michigan and was headed to their gig in Detroit promised to send me some real-time updates. When the band took the stage, the electronics in my living room began to buzz, warning me that something was headed to my phone—something large, like a data tsunami. A red-alert symbol blinked on the display. My cell was having a seizure. Finally, the message came through—with a photo from my friend’s iPhone. For most people, this is a completely normal event. For me, it’s time to hold my breath and pray that my device doesn’t explode. That’s thanks to my not-so-secret shame: I own a flip phone.
5 Stupid Things High School Kids Do to Entertain Themselves
A list of dumb stunts performed by the youth of America.
When you go to high school in the 'burbs, it's difficult to find ways to keep yourself entertained in the long droughts of fun between lacrosse games and Dave Matthews concerts. So, things tend to get a little bit ... strange. Which might explain why this little tidbit made local news recently.
The Hatboro-Horsham School District has notified parents about the increasing popularity of the "cinnamon challenge." That school administrators are just catching on to this prank is shocking. (But in case you're also behind the times: The challenge entails trying to swallow a spoonful of ground cinnamon.) I watched a buddy try and, if you've seen this girl come up short, you can tell it's a bad idea. But, this is par for the course when compared to the wacky things teenagers do to keep themselves entertained. Here are five other "challenges" that can be categorized in the overlap of the Venn Diagram of "Disaster" and "Hilarity."
Attention, Philly Tourists: This Way to La Colombe
Sometimes being a good city ambassador means lying to our visitors.
I've been thinking a lot about Mayor Nutter's recent call for us all to remember our dual identities, as not only citizens of this promising, struggling city, but ambassadors. Nutter's speech, at the chamber of commerce, focused on the role businesses can play. But the challenge extends to all of us. And, well, yesterday morning, I think I answered it with true Philadelphia style.
I was walking to work on 19th Street and crossing Chestnut when an owlish-looking little man stopped me. “Could you tell me,” he asked, “where the nearest Starbucks is?”
On top of flash mobs, whooping cough’s comeback, and the mental picture of Newt Gingrich as a swinger, now there are omnipresent bathing suit catalogs. Thanks to the miracle of the Internet, they’re not just in my mailbox anymore. Way to go, Al Gore. They also come by email and social media, which I’m not even entirely sure how to use, but all I know is that I can’t enjoy a simple bowl of rigatoni and ricotta while playing Words With Friends because there are bathing suits in my Facebook newsfeed.
