This week’s obseshesssss mostly end in questions, so either I’m especially curious or I have devolved into a Valspeak uptalker? What do you think? Actually maybe it’s just that my heart is a-flutter and a-boom-boom and a-little-bit-caffeine-high because….
…Today is my birthday, you guys. (You’re welcome?) Synesthetically, birthdays are blue-purple, which I probably conceived through some narcissism-prism of a mid-January birthday (Birthday-activity ice skating is white in reality, but feels blue, clean, cold; The themeless birthday décor of an awkwardly timed/trans-holiday birthday will be mutably festive, like purple). I am deeply into birthdays, my own and everyone else’s, because birthdays are truly egalitarian—everyone has to acknowledge you just for existing, totally apart from your professional accomplishments, your relationship decisions, your reproductive events. Birthdays are also inescapably juvenile and doofy and still something that everyone has, and has to have, like it or not, including old and unsmiling men. I am picturing Michael Fassbender in Shame here, as a man who might deny his birthday. It’s like having a bellybutton: Your humanity is showing.
Anyway for presents I already got two plane tickets (WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH is the deafening sound of how good that is and also my airplane flying somewhere awesome and me breathing out in some yoga anti-anxiety breath pose) and some money, which I will be spending today after I get my semi-annual haircut, and a pretty/sparkly jingle-jangle (TM @white_lightning, never forget) for my pointing finger, and a book, and later, Jah-willing, a free ice-cream cone if Baskin-Robbins still does the good work and service of the eternal Birthday Spirit, who probs/defs looks like one of those candles in the shape of a happy cartoon wizard that they used to have at the environmental-y store at the mall?
Our show’s second season debuts on Sunday night. Oh, you don’t like it? It’s not your show? I don’t care/yes it is. No I’m just kidding, maybe or probably it’s not. The point is that regardless of your feelies about Girls, it is how the aggregate of non-us people will begin to maybe sort of possibly understand the legit plight (LEGIT PLIGHT) of the post-college pre-real-life woman and that on its own is the revolution, so shut upupupupup. Also, come on. Are you allergic to solid one-liners and low-lit nakedness and pal-melodramatics? Are you? Anyway, call me. Let’s talk about it after it's over.
PEOPLE RUIN EVERYTHING
Obviously this is close to crystalline perfection buuuuut why is there a person talking and breathing at the same time that I am watching a doggie discover his own doggie potential? Why is it a consequence of the homemade cute-shit video that the personality of the video’s maker has to be involved? Is it ego? Why isn’t there just a bland, tinny karaoke-soundz background when that is clearly the better choice? It’s not as though these things are wholly spontaneous, either. It’s not as though you can’t correct it in post. Why, why! when I want to—need to, I need it so much—commune with a doggie YouTube in the manner of auto-acupuncturing myself through a Gawker suggestion (buh) is the experience almost always compromised by some human inserting themselves, with their breathing and bad laugh, into what would be a pure thing? Stop talking, right? Always stop talking. We just want your dog.
Do we care? I dunno. On one tiny consideration paw, the Globes are a mechanical joint in the long arm of the Entertainment Quality Law of what is Good and what is Righteous and what is Liked and everyone is mad at them for one reason or another (Leonardo! The Other One! That Girl!). On another tiny consideration paw, there are so many dressessssss and since the Globes aren’t limited to just high-level movie peeps, there is a lot more opportunity for outfits gone way wrong and general antics and obvious televised sweaty nerve tremors, you know? And the TV people are sooo unbelievably happy to be there and are clutching their little bags like someone is going to take them away. (“My mints! My mints are in there!”) I love that about it! I love that Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are hosting it because they are my imaginary best friends, with apologies to the globe-trotting boy-girl twins who were my actual imaginary best friends for far, far too many years! (“Dad, they are in Indonesia right now!”) Anyway, I just decided it’s more fun to care and that I’m fully into it and will watch with a scorecard or at least an eye to the live tweets. OK thanks. Good talk.
If you could know the details of any person’s sex life in the whole wide world, who would you choose? EASY: I’d choose Nick Kroll. He is an ur-Man to me. There's something about his inflatable-pool-raft mouth and squidgy Kermit face and how he is both kind of laughing serious-not-serious and also like unilaterally perfect when he does Bobby Bottleservice and Rich Dicks and basically anything mean. And his scarily vacant/hilarious character on The League is like many dudes I have known, so many of whom remain unknowable to me.
Anyway, comedian Nick Kroll’s Kroll Show is on Comedy Central on January 16 and will run for 100 years. I start guest-starring in 2014 because my husband Nick needs to be at work like 15, 16 hours a day and that’s a long time to be apart so often, you know? For now, you can watch teazies and the first episode on iTunes. Call me after that, too.
Follow Kate on Twitter @KateCarraway
Previously - Welcome to My Obseshes