Parkside Q

Gay Is The New Marriage

Congrats, Vermonters! Your legislators have just rocketed the US into the 21st century, with the rest of the country to follow soon enough. I know I'm posting really late about this, but gay marriage was passed in Vermont earlier today (via veto override, no less!).

I'd get into the details, but several others have done a better job than I could at this late hour, so I'll just hat tip. In solidarity with gays, lesbians, activists, progressives, and everyone everywhere that supports equal rights, the Parkside Q logo has been modified to include the rainbow flag. I fly it proudly as I stand with the spectrum of beauty and wonder that is humanity.

One Fuck-UPS Too Many

"What can brown do for you?" That's the mantra that the United Parcel Service lives by, and, based on my recent experiences with them, will die by. If the past two and a half weeks are any indication, brown can't do diddly for me. Speaking of which, brown is an apt color scheme for them; it's the most accurate metaphor for their shitacular service. From now on, my mind will forever equate UPS's palette with steaming piles of Doberman dookie.

All I wanted was my damn poster that I ordered from the Obama store (P.S. our next President will be Black! Except for his white half, of course). All I got was two delivery notices, incompetent service reps trying to talk me out of murdering one of their truck drivers, three donuts and two cups of coffee. The latter two are courtesy of Dunkin Donuts, a truly awesome company that rose to the occasion and *gasp* actually gave me what I wanted when I requested it. And they even gave me an extra squirt of vanilla at BOTH locations, no questions asked.

Unfortunately, this story isn't about how awesome DD is (though this fact is undeniable). That would be too easy.

My loopy fiasco (see what I did there?) with UPS began with their initial attempt to send my package to my apartment. I caught my first whiff of the shitstorm that was brewng when I found one of those nifty info-notice postcards in my mailbox, instead of the box I was expecting. Usually, UPS leaves the package by the mailboxes; the explanation on my postcard was that my address was incomplete on the shipping label, therefore my package was undeliverable and brought back to the "local" shipping center (more on this later).

The first thing I tried to do was pick up my package from the local shipping center. I HopStopped the address on the postcard, and after work the next day went on my merry way to Midwood to pick up my package. I got to Midwood slightly later than expected, but the bigger surprise was still in store. The address on the postcard led me to an antique furniture shop. I asked the guy at the desk where the hell UPS was (since this clearly was not it), and he pointed out a Google map printout I missed on the way in. Because of the format of the address on UPS's postcard, I went to the wrong place; I was supposed to be in Canarsie, a lifetime (ok, like two train rides) away. At that point, it was too late to try to pick it up at the correct location, so I stopped at the local Dunkin Donuts for a tasty treat before heading home.

I wish this was the end, but the agony was just staring to be fully realized.

Piss Off

Before I start this post, I feel like I need to clear up a few things with the three of you that still read this blog. Not only am I a horrible blogger, but I am also a horrible liar. I said I was going to update more, and that has become a platitude of epic fail. It's also the antithesis of what my goal is here: to get my work exposed and build up my writing cred enough to actually get leads on freelancing. That would be a hell of a lot easier if I actually updated more than twice a month, and I clearly need to re-focus my energy on both writing awesome (if random) bullshit and getting people to give enough shits to keep coming back for more. Only way to do that is to post more and better articles, and that is my intent from here on out. Scout's honor.

Ok, back to bullshitting. This is something men will appreciate more than women, but it's still pertinent to anyone reading this as it deals with a subject that we all encounter on a daily basis: public bathroom etiquette. As a precursor, let me explain something that we dudes call the "One Three Five Rule" (I'm not sure if this has been inducted into the sacred halls of Man Law yet, but it should be). [EDIT: It is!!] Quite simply, you put at least one urinal of space between you and your fellow potty breaker when availability of urinals allow for it.
To do otherwise is an invasion into the privacy of one of man's most private acts: pissing.

Now I know what you're thinking: "What's the big deal? And don't act like you didn't publicly pee on than cop car last weekend you schmuck." Like I said above, you need privacy "when availability [will] allow for it". Going home after a night of hard living, based on the fact that you left the house in the first place, naturally trumps the preferance of privacy normally afforded to Seabiscuit impersonations. Besides, it's not like my friends stood around and watched me relieve myself against squad car 1-Tango-13 (the police sure did, though).

I Freaking LOVE This Song And Vid!

Remember that face. Her name is Janelle Monaé, and she is hot fiyah! Sad as it is to say, she's been around for a while (since 2006 if I recall correctly), but I just heard a song of hers (titled "Many Moons") last weekend. Let me just say this: I've been listening to it on repeat since I first heard it (hat tip to Toni for putting me on!). It's like Afro-punk futuristic electropera trippy what the eff; think Andre 3000 and Fall Out Boy shrooming balls.

The song's so good; I practically wore out a set of headphones replaying her EP, entitled "Metropolis: The Chase Suite". The album's sofa king good, I bought it. With money. No BitTorrenting this one folks, Monaé deserves your cold hard cash. Don't take my word for it though, check out the vid for "Many Moons" below:



Now, some artists make music videos; others make short films and/or productions using their music as the soundtrack. "Thriller" immediately comes to mind as an example of the latter; in a sense, so does "Smack My Bitch Up". "Many Moons" is a video that transcends the usual gimmick of marketing the audio with moving pictures, and actually creates a vivid and surreal visual fabric stitched together by the music itself. It's quite arguable that the vid is better than the song. Props to Monaé for sticking to her off-kilter style - which, in a music industry saturated with the type of catchy, sugarcoated, yet fleetingly empty-calorie instapop aural sex that we've come to call "top 40 hits", is no small feat.

Look out for young Janelle; she's about to take over in a big effing way. One caveat: she is signed to Bad Boy. Here's to hoping Diddy treats her more like Biggie and less like Da Band. Hell, I'll even take Danity Kane-style artist development at this point...

It's Over 9000!!!!!!

The above graphic shows the fluctuations of the Dow Jones Industrial Average for today. As the title of this post indicates, the market ended over 9,000 points, which conveniently allows me to post this old-ass meme:

That's the good news. The bad news is that this is the third day in a row where the market ended under 10,000 (which hasn't happened in four years). In case you've been living under a rock for the past month or so, recent market conditions are rocking financial institutions like hurricanes, and the bailout package recent passed by Congress and signed by Figurehead Bush ("President" is too kind at this point) hasn't kicked into effect yet.

I'm no economist, but my best guess is that things will probably get worse before they get better. I just hope that the "over 9000!!" vid becomes irrelevant again due to the market going over 10,000 as opposed to under 9000.

This Put A Smile On My Face

 

Why so serious Pam? Then again, I'd look that way if I were dating Michael Jackson, too. For real, it's almost a pre-requisite that you have to look like a hot tranny mess to date Jacko; he refuses to look worse than his significant others. Of course, Michael Jackson now looks like a zombie a la "Thriller" now, so this is no small feat

You know, I feel like I've seen someone look strikingly similar to Her Botoxness, but I can't seem to put my finger on it. Oh, shit, I know who she looks like!

 

Sheesh, at least the Joker's clown makeup was intentional.

Image via DListed.

It's Been A Long Time, I Shouldn't Have Left You

Hey people, I know I fell off for a minute, but now I'm back with a vengeance! The past couple months have been a bit of a whirlwind for me, and I ended up neglecting the site for a while. But before I jump back into the regular posting cycle, I wanted to get a bit of housecleaning done.

I've been doing a lot of thinking during my hiatus, and I want to redirect the focus of my writing a bit. Yes, I will still post about random bullshit, some drama-type stuff, and the usual stuff that I see as compelling/random enough to snark at. But, seeing that we are in one of the most important election years ever, I also want to channel some of my newly discovered intrigue in the political happenings of our time.

Again, this shift is not to take away from what Parkside Q always was and is always going to be: the world as I paint it through the hottest keyboard in Brooklyn. I just want to expand the range of my art, not so much deviate from it. Just expect to see some more of my politics shine through, although if you have seen my previous posts you were already aware of that side of me seeping into the Q.

Now that that's out of the way, I return you to your regularly scheduled bullshit.

Diagnosis: Irony Deficiency

Date: July 21, 2008 issue

Patient: The New Yorker

Vital Stats: 80+ years old, 8.5" x 11", <1 lb.

Symptoms: Expressed perceptions of political world misaligned with reality; projecting fearful imagery induced by paranoia; fatigue and exhaustion exacerbated by anemic response to others' genuine concern. Patient was also unaware of fractured humerus.

Diagnosis: Patient is suffering from "Irony Deficiency", rarely seen over the course of patient's past medical history. Usually topical and satirically relevant, patient has succumbed to this disorder, rendering its cover to fall flat on its attempt to convey intellectual lampooning.

Outlook: Patient will be under observation until symptoms improve; smarter editorial decisions will greatly reduce recovery time.

This Is A Test Of The Emergency Blogging System

Nothing significant here, just checking to see if the blog post app on my new iPhone 3G is working.

To make up for my lack of actual info/commentary in this post, just look at some highlights of my Miami vacation pics.

Rap In A Porno Flick, ???, Profit!

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past couple of decades, you already know that hip hop has been sexually charged for quite some time. Artists ranging from Salt 'N Pepa to Nelly have been exploiting sexuality in some form in both lyrics and imagery. BET at one point even had a late-night segment, appropriately named Uncut, featuring videos with more explicitly sexual content (the Nelly video I linked was an Uncut staple). Rappers like Snoop Dogg and Lil' John have all dabbled in distributing porn videos.

In other words, sex sells music. What you may not know, is that music starting to sell sex.

Gone are the days of porn narratives accompanied by cheesy "bow chicka wah wah" guitar riffs. Nowadays, porn is being shot with soundtracks that rival a 50 Cent movie's. A growing trend in the adult film industry is packaging a bonus CD with the movie itself, featuring the songs that guide the action. You now have a way to bump the track that Flower Tucci was getting gangbanged to without fear of causing a car crash due to your playing the actual porn DVD in your car.

Side note: as a human being, you do NOT have enough hands to masturbate while operating a moving vehicle. If you need to get your rocks off while driving, find someone to give you road head (which may or may not be legal in your state). And for God's sake, don't crash the effing car.