Nick Di Paolo is awesome. I talked to him about stuff and a camera was there and everything.

Just me and Nick Di Paolo, having a chat at a diner. Oh, don't mind the TV camera, Nick.

Trapped In A Cell: Part 1

And now the latest in a series of surely doomed regular features on Varsity Basketweaving: Collections of my own cell-phone photos with commentary, conveniently assembled in a feature called Trapped In A Cell. Enjoy.

i. Wendy, fast-food pitchwoman or psycho killer (qu'est-ce c'est)?
Date taken: 11:39 p.m. July 20. Location of photo: DVR freeze-frame of TV commercial.
In the latest ad campaign for one of my favorite fast food chains, an animated Wendy looks like a cute little girl until her pupils practically disappear, making her look like a satanic extra from another unintentional creepfest, "The Polar Express." OK, I'll eat a Spicy Chicken Sandwich! Please don't eat my soul!

ii. Condensation or Religious Experience?
Date taken: 11:31 a.m. July 11. Location of photo: Movie theatre restroom
I added the arrow for clarity, but this otherwise undoctored and unstaged photo features a Seth Rogen lookalike crying a single tear of joy on my Coke cup. Yes, it's only a perfectly coincidental drop of condensation, but faux-Rogen's 3D impression of a mournful Harvey Dent scared the crap out of me for a split second right after a viewing of "Hancock." If a crying Jesus reinforces faith in Christianity for those who witness it, does this mean I must worship Apatow for the rest of my life? I mean, he's OK, I guess, but I'd sooner kowtow to Scorsese.

iii. Well, hello my name is Simon and I like to do rehabiliation
Date taken: 9:17 p.m. July 10. Location of photo: Metro-North train car vestibule.
Yes, a train passenger was looking at me confused, perhaps trying to figure out which addiction demon I was trying to exorcise. (Answer: All of them.) At first glance, this just appears to be another eye-catching ad for the Canterbury Institute's rehab clinic. But upon further review, shift the circle 90 degrees clockwise and you have the exact color scheme for a childhood staple:

I guess the ad's primary demographic is children of the '80s who have replaced one increasingly frustrating addiction with a more destructive version. Almost any of these vices in extreme cases would pretty much ruin your chances of even turning the power switch on Simon, much less advancing past two moves. But maybe the right amount of cocaine would actually have you so wired that you'd not only win but also outlast the game's triple-A batteries before crashing in a heap of despair.

I don't know this much is true

Please settle this minor dispute between me and my friend Christina.

When you read "Ha ha ha HA ha," do you hear:

A. The Woody Woodpecker laugh

or

B. The chorus of Spandau Ballet's "True"?

And before you ask: No, no other pop culture reference is an acceptable answer.

Related tangent: I like how Woody's hair fits right in with Spandau Ballet's '80s coifs. A Flock of Woodpeckers, if you will.

This Bobby Murcer video made me laugh and cry at the same time

We'll miss you, buddy.

I'm on a John Legend album. (Kind of.)

Kanye. Jay-Z. Lauryn. Fergie. Serico?!

Ten years after the fact, I just learned that I'm singing on the same album as John Legend. Follow along, friends.

My college a cappella group, the Boston College Acoustics, made the cut for the 1998 Best Of College A Cappella (BOCA) album. Despite poor production quality, Fran Gendrano's powerful lead vocals and Matty Lane's classic arrangement for our rendition of Paula Cole's "The Ladder" helped make it the penultimate song on the 18-song compilation. My buddy Matt Havens and I are the two guys singing the bass line on the track.

BOCA 1998's opening cut -- and rightfully so -- is a University of Pennsylvania Counterparts song inspired by Prince's R&B reinterpretation of Joan Osborne's "One of Us." Soloing is John R. Stephens, the man who would change his name to John Legend.

One of only about three dozen a cappella songs comprising the 2,301 in my regular iTunes rotation, I've been enjoying the Counterparts' version of "One of Us" for more than a decade. But while researching the origins of Osborne's biggest hit for work, I learned only today via the song's Wikipedia page that Legend was the vocalist I'd been admiring all along. Not relying on Wikipedia alone, I was able to confirm that fact here and here.

So yeah, John, call me. Let's do lunch and another collabo soon.

Something tells me Burger King did the Indiana Jones scratch-off game on the cheap

My winning scratch-off treasure: "Knowledge."

Hey, lemme add your number to my phone. And by 'add your number' I mean 'accidentally delete hundreds of numbers instead'

Thankfully, the title of this post hasn't come true (yet), but I wouldn't be surprised if a drunken and/or soberly spastic version of me does just that, thanks to the genius software designers for Verizon's Voyager phone.

For those who don't know, the Voyager is Verizon's supposed response to the iPhone -- a touch-screen gadget that's far inferior except for GPS Navigation and, y'know, actual phone service.

So say I'm fortunate enough to add the phone number of a pretty young lady to said phone:
Make that another pretty young lady, as you can see the lovely and talented (and engaged) Abbi Crutchfield is already in there. Anyway....

Let's take a closer look at my only two options on this menu, shall we?
So with one slip of the thumb, not only can I say good-bye to the supermodel's number I'm trying to add, but also those of every friggin' number I've collected and not yet deleted during a fit of rage, apathy and/or depression.

Can you hear me now? No, I can't hear anyone on the phone because the phone numbers of anyone I'd be talking to have been deleted.

I mean, hypothetically. But still!

Something not-so-special in the air

I recently took a mini-vacation to Chicago. It was pretty much amazing and has now become my second-favorite American city. Perhaps I'll blog about that some other time.

Not so amazing, however, was my experience with an airline -- I'll call them Zmerican Zairlines to protect the very few innocent -- on what was supposed to be the last day of my trip. Instead of returning to New York on a Sunday night, I got back in the middle of the afternoon Monday. Assorted thoughts on my lost day:

1. After canceling a flight and realizing there's no way to board your passengers on a flight the same day, comp them outright with a hotel voucher and/or future flight instead of acting like you're doing them a favor by giving them a "reduced rate" at a hotel in scenic Airportanapolis.

2. You know that episode of "The Sopranos" when Tony lives out his coma as a hotel patron with seemingly nothing to do? It was basically Purgatory; nothing too good or too bad about it, but kind of lonely and sad. That's what my Sunday night stay in Nowheresville was after my flight was canceled. After a couple of overpriced snacks, a poor night's sleep and more than $100 worth of unnecessary hotel expenses, I was back at O'Hare attempting my trip home again.

3. There's probably no way of pulling such a thing off without lawsuits aplenty, but I'd be willing to pay up to $30 more for a flight to guarantee no kids under 10 are aboard. Even if it flies at an odd hour, I think airlines would make a killing this way. I'd definitely fork over another Jackson and Hamilton to ensure that no kid of careless parents kicks my seat, cries on the tarmac or repeatedly asks dumb questions at a volume that drowns out the engines. (Related.)

4. I really do think the TSA's decision to ban liquids that are in larger than 3-ounce containers is less about staving off terrorism and more about forcing patrons to spend money on overpriced airport beverages and toiletries. Because let's face it, that 20-ounce Mountain Dew that was evidently bottled by the Taliban is going to do far more damage to your liver than it would to a Boeing 747.

5. Here's a great way to punish passengers in unexpected fashion: Tell displaced passengers who didn't have the chance to pick the row of their new flight that they're allowed to fill a carry-on bag full of food, an iPod and reading materials to stow under the seat in front of them, but when the supposed seat in front of them is actually the wall that separates them from the first-class section, threaten them with an FAA fine if they don't immediately place said bag in an overhead compartment three seats away. And certainly don't think to allow the passenger time to take a few items out of it first before stowing it. That'll teach them to prepare for a flight without electronic entertainment or free food of any kind.

Oh, yes, an angry letter is being written to appropriate personnel about points 1, 2 and 5. Results, or the lack thereof, will be posted here in the future.

Bon Jovi's seen a million faces

But I've only rocked several dozen.

HAPPY 3RD BLOGGIVERSARY, VARSITY BASKETWEAVING!

Three years ago yesterday, Varsity Basketweaving began as a hobby -- a venue for written rants that I found interesting but didn't seem to fit into any work-related niche.

It's come to mean different things to me over the years.

The first time I tried to define it, I was chatting with David Scharfenberg, a reporter from The New York Times. Although I hadn't planned on a pithy way to describe my blog, he correctly quoted me as saying that VB is a venue for "the ridiculous and the mundane." That quote worked for both of us; Scharfenberg chose to use it in his story and I got to cite the Times in a way that both accurately described my blog and allowed me boast about the newspaper's documentation in the VB masthead.

Over the blog's first 18 months, it became clear to me that VB was a general-interest blog. As I joked to fellow bloggers at NBC's inaugural blogger convention, that meant I was "the only one who's generally interested in it." But that wasn't always the case.

As noted in the right margin of this blog, The Apiary, Best Week Ever, Brooklyn Vegan, Comedy Central, Cracked, Gawker, GorillaMask, Gothamist and Stereogum are among the high-profile blogs to cite VB for many a reason, ranging from John Mayer's stand-up comedy pursuit to Reading Rainbow's flamboyant music video about teamwork.

The last 12 months have been no exception. A day after celebrating VB's second bloggiversary, I published "Tetris pieces: Metaphors for the seven kinds of people at your college party," one of the most-viewed posts in VB history, thanks to linkage by GorillaMask. My year-end post about the Top 10 Top 10 Numbers of 2007 was referenced by both Best Week Ever and The Apiary. And documentation of a semi-close encounter with comedian David Cross warranted additional linkage from The Apiary.

Faithful VB readers might realize that the frequency of postings declined in the blog's third year, which has been somewhat transitional. And while "transitional" is often a euphemism that sports franchises use to describe a team that will be indefinitely sucky, in VB's case it means the blog stylings developed here parlayed new levels of success on other blogs and media.

Because I write extensively for The Journal News' enteratainment blogs -- the television-themed Remote Access and the celebrity-centered Suburbarazzi -- most things that fall under the categories of TV or regionally relevant celebrities get posted there if I'm going to write about them.

For Remote Access, I took on covering a third show ("Chuck") and wrote more than ever about "American Idol" and "Top Chef." This included a controversial 23-part series on the "Top 20 'Idol' Contestants of All Time," which likely will be revisited and revised in January now that Season 7 has concluded. I also cohosted weekly podcasts about "The Office" and "30 Rock."

For Suburbarazzi, I've continued to write about celebrities who have connections to New York City's northern suburbs in any way, shape or form. It's also enabled me to appear on a biweekly basis as an entertainment analyst on RNN-TV and co-host an Oscar special (part 1, part 2).

As for Headline Punchline -- my other personal blog with "actual headlines, marginal punchlines" -- well, that's taken the biggest hit among blogs to which I contribute. But perhaps it'll be revived in the near future.

In the meantime, thanks for reading, referencing and posting comments on Varsity Basketweaving. It's helped me professionally, creatively and therapeutically. And hopefully, for you, it's occasionally transcended the ridiculous and the mundane.

Further proof that Stevie Wonder is a genius and that I am an idiot

For years, I've loved listening to Stevie Wonder's song "Lately," a stunning ballad about a relationship falling apart before his eyes, which as many people know, can't see.

The power of his vocals, musicianship and songwriting on that song lulled me into such a trance that only last week was when I realized that when he sings, "Lately I've been staring in the mirror," I'm the one slowly picking him apart.

Why? Because Stevie Wonder staring in the mirror likely yields the same result as say, staring at a wall, or staring at a box of Corn Pops. Because, again, he is blind (but not, evidently, to the evidence of a philanderer).

But before you make fun of him for writing that line, make fun of me for glossing over it after listening to it literally hundreds of times. And credit him for writing lyrics that are so transcendent and ironic that even HE can see why this relationship is doomed.

Also, before you make fun of him, remember that he's FREAKIN' STEVIE WONDER and is a genius.

Shut Up and Take Me Out (Hey!)

Thank you, YouTube, for your telepathy.

I was thinking about how perfect a mash-up would be for The Ting Tings' "Shut Up and Let Me Go" (a.k.a. "Oh, yeah, that song from the latest non-Coldplay iPod commercial") and Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out."

Thankfully, someone else had the same idea (and the audio editing software I lack).

The result a little skimpy on the Franz Ferdinand side of things -- a full "Take Me Out" verse with the Ting Tings' instrumental would have balanced the mix out better -- but it still captures the essence of what I was hoping for:

Particularly nifty is the way the two songs work together lyrically as well: The Ting Tings' demand to "Shut up and let me go" is followed by Franz Ferdinand's admission, "I know I won't be leaving here with you."

And, for the record, The Ting Tings' similar-sounding song is original enough to be cool, unlike Finger Eleven's "Paralyzer," which is a lame "Take Me Out" rip-off.

(Related.)

The Chicago Sun-Times dabbles in Basketweaving

Found this on the Chicago Sun-Times' Web site yesterday.

In fairness, unlike The New York Times piece that actually profiles Varsity Basketweaving, I think the Sun-Times reference was generated because that news service and VB subscribe to the BlogBurst network, which tries to pair blogs with news content. Here's the original VB post.

As a thank-you, though, I will say that Richard Roeper is one of my favorite movie critics. (But I would have said that anyway.)

AcipHex? No, seriously, though. What's the name of your prescription medication?

There's got to be a branding agent who was fed up with one of his clients to such a degree that he named the pharmaceutical company's product "AcipHex" (pronounced "ass effects").

Are you kidding me? To answer a rhetorical question, no. I watched this commercial during a recent Yankee game and was floored it wasn't a joke. See and hear for yourself:

I'm guessing possible side effects include diarrhea, constipation and people incessantly making fun of the name of your medication.

The stuff is allegedly for heartburn, but I'm not buying it (literally or figuratively). My thought is that with a name like that, it was meant to treat Irritable Bowel Syndrome but wound up being more effective halfway through the digestive system.

To retaliate, the people at EsophoFix are going to have to make prescription-strength hemorrhoid cream.

Yesterday, for the first time ever, $40 failed to fill my gas tank

May 2004: Regional gas prices top $2 per gallon -- "Jeez, this is inconvenient. I can barely fill my tank with Andrew Jackson's trading card. I feel like punching the passenger seat."

January 2006: Regional gas prices top $3 per gallon -- "Wow, suddenly this photo is more quaint than funny. I'm spending more money on gas than on some nights out in New York City. I feel like punching oil company execs in the face."

May 2008: Regional gas prices top $4 per gallon -- "[Expletive]! [Expletive]! [Expletive]! [Expletive]! [Expletive]! I feel like a [expletive gerund] punching bag."

So yeah, I'm a little punchy.