I can hang with Ira Glass

I'm pretty sure history will show that I am the voice of this generation of this decade. That said, I think my message will most effectively be communicated through the genuis of that show where "hipster know-it-alls talk about how fascinating real life is," This American Life.

I've been mulling over some great topics for essays and I figure if I put them in the ether, I'm somehow committed to one day writing them:

Windblown weave clumps and dunk: How a white girl from Minnesota fared in northeast D.C.
Everything I need to know about life, I learned from the WWF
An unwitting crusader: My life as an all-season bicyclist in Alaska.

Another Song in C

I've kinda been in love with this song for the last three weeks. Makes me cry nearly every time. Please enjoy.

Why I Heart Professional Wrestling

Andrew and I went to see WWE Raw/ECW live last night at the Verizon Center. It was amazingly fun. Pyrotechnics, bad acting, sparkly costumes, funny bits, the very real threat of injury. C'mon that's America people.

I love online shoe shopping, baking and The Hills (I'm owning up to a lot of guilty pleasures here). But I also really, really like professional wrestling. Here are a few reasons why:

• It is the kind of place where "Behind Enemy Lines 3: Columbia," featuring Mr. Kennedy is honestly produced. Someone in that company seriously puts up money to make that film that sounds so terrible it should be a punchline.
  
  
• Titantron videos. They are hilariously bad in real life. You don't seem to get the full effect on TV. It's a lot like a dating service video crossed with a Rick Astley music video. I especially love the ones where they let the wrestlers rap their own entrance music.
  


• Nertz to Sarah Palin and the "real America" issue. The WWE's fans are real America. From the mother of four next to us last night who had no idea what she was even watching and just "booed when everyone else did," to the group home a few rows behind us, to the people dressed in their business casual clothes at the area last night, real people worked hard and paid real money to see these grown men ham it up for four hours.
  
  
• Cheesy though it may be, I really like that Andrew is in to it too. I'm glad we can share an enjoyment for meaty men throwing each other around, midgets in leprechaun costumes and a world where you must stop speaking the moment you hear another person's entrance music.
  
  Plus I must give him credit for letting me to spend a few hours a week watching men with cartoon-character muscles throw each other around in their underpants. I must say there was a good while where I thought the "muscle-is-going-to-tear-through-my-skin" look was icky but I'm really coming around to it. (*seductive eyebrow raise)
  
  
• Dave Batista. No, CM Punk ... no Batista .... nono, Punk ... SANTINO MARELLA.