“Let me just pull up your account…..I see you have our SUPER-DOUBLE-WHATEVER-WE-WANT-TO-REBRAND-OURSELVES-TO-COVER-OUR-INCREASE-IN-PRICES package.”

“Yup…same one I’ve had for the past nine months.”

“Right. Well, due to an increase in operating costs, I’m sure you can understand, we’ve had to raise our prices ever so slightly. I do see that, as a special thank you from us, you’ll receive HBO for the next six months for free.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that for free for the past nine months too. What if I just trade you HBO for my $10 back each month?”

“Are you unhappy with your services?”

“No, I guess not. I just don’t know what value I’m getting for $10 more a month.”

“We’ve recently enhanced our Internet speed….”

“Really? It’s working the same as before….”

“Well, if you want to upgrade to our…”

“No, I don’t want to upgrade. I just don’t see how I’m better off.”

“We can look at other SIMILARLY-PRICED-IF-NOT-MORE-EXPENSIVE packages if you…”

“No. You know what? No. Maybe just don’t acquire a network on its last lap around the drain (sorry 30 Rock, I still heart you) and stop hiring Don Draper to do your commercial voice-overs. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to raise prices.”

“……….”

“Well, not you. You know what I mean. Hey, are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Anyway. So, $10 more a month?

“Yes.”

“GREAT.”

How the conversation really went….

“Hi, I’m calling because I keep getting cryptic calls from this number and want to know why.”

“Let me just check your information………..right. We’re just calling as a courtesy to verify your service disconnection request.”

“My what?”

“Service disconnection.”

“Ah, no. I didn’t request that. Don’t do that. No.”

“Okay, well, that’s why we have these sorts of calls! Hehehehehehehe…”

“Yeah, but you didn’t even leave a message or anything. Also, why am I even being called about this?”

“With computers these days you just never can tell. Somebody pushes the wrong button here and it comes out wrong there and….you know how it is. Anyway, I do see that you have our SUPER-DOUBLE-WHATEVER-WE-WANT-TO-REBRAND-OURSELVES-TO-COVER-OUR-INCREASE-IN-PRICES package.”

“Um, yeah. Just to be clear, I’d like to keep it. Again, do not disconnect anything.”

“Right. I also see that while your rate will be only $10 more a month, you’ll also receive HBO for six months for free as a special thank you from us.”

“Yes. Great. Already get it, but okay. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“No. Just don’t get rid of anything.”

“Got it. Thank you for calling OVERPRICED-REBRANDED-COMPANY-THAT-JUST-PUT-ONE-OVER-ON-YOUR-JANKY-ASS.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks. Bye.………wait, what? Ten dollars more? Hello? Hello? Ah, hell.”

Case in point, the following repartee from her chapter entitled, “Wedding Chopper,” in which she’s prepping for a run and chatting with her now ex-boyfriend, Ted. (Seriously, why did they break up? Her stories about him are hilarious.)

“…What is in your hair?” he asked, squinting at my head.

“A hair clip…”

“Why does it say Doritos on it?” he inquired upon closer inspection of my head.

“Because it’s a chip clip. I couldn’t find any hair bands and I wanted to go for a run. Is that okay with you?”

“So what’s holding the chips together?” he demanded to know.

“Really, Ted? The chips are more important than me getting some cardio in? I mean, seriously.”

“Chelsea, answer the question.”

“What is the question?”

“What is holding the chips together?”

“The chips are gone.”

“Exactly. Those were the chips for the helicopter, Chelsea. I swear sometimes I feel like I’m living with a refugee.”

Annnnd scene.

Just like that, in the briefest of moments, in the shortest of printed conversations, the Chelsea Chelsea of my Tivo-ing ways- the wise-cracking, down-to-earth, gal-about-town- has been shot by her own “Bang Bang.” Because although I too have been known to employ unconventional objects to tie back my hair (see: paper clip, scotch tape), albeit not for any kinetic activity of my own, I have never been known to travel by HELICOPTER.

I realize it’s all that bad influence Ted’s doing, I do. I also realize that Chelsea Chelsea probably isn’t flying in many helicopters these days. I’ll even go so far as to give our gal credit where credit is due.* But seriously…why Chelsea Chelsea? Why? The only douche-bags who should be riding in helicopters are traffic reporters, tourists, and The Donald.

*At least she had the proletariat (or refugee-esque) forethought to eat those “helicopter” Doritos rather than allow The Man to go all bourgy on her ass, dictating when the Doritos are to be eaten; then proceeded to put on her “thinking cap” and creatively problem solve her hair tying/ running conundrum. To paraphrase Chelsea Lately verbiage, A Tip of the Show Blog to You.

• The return of Gossip Girl- less for the actual show than NY Mag’s (previously Daily Intel and now Vulture) recap and Reality Index. Fine-fucking-ly.
• The William Eggleston exhibit at the Art Institute. A color photography retrospective from a half century of American day-to-day sophistry. Who knew looking at photos of people grocery shopping in the 1960s could be so engrossing? 
• The Oscars for alerting me to the existence of the animated short film, Logorama. Brand logo mania and consumer voyeurism at its best. Also, the French producer’s acceptance speech was a delight. 
• And on a somewhat related note, this visual snack of movie parody awesomeness.
• The Ask by Sam Lipsyte. The (somewhat) depressive, sardonic, underachieving everyman narration is just the kind of dark humored, hegemonic, authorial mind fuck I’ve been looking to read. Also, thank you for saving me from the listless Gen X vocab diarrhea that is Tao Lin’s Bed.
• Conan O’Brien’s “The Legally Prohibited From Being Funny On Television Tour” coming to Chicago in May and the boyfriend’s agile ticket procuring prowess (dude was on it!). Conan and Andy, please do a modern version of “In the year 2000.” Pretty please.
• The Puppy Cam because, duh, it’s puppies. Could there be a better time suck? The answer is unequivocally “no.” 

To one and all I wholeheartedly say, “I salute you!”

We sat down. We ordered food. We sat in silence. We looked about the room. We sipped our drinks. We talked about how sad the Whale Wars marathon on Planet Green was last night. We sat in silence some more. We eavesdropped- it was unavoidable!

The conversation next door was a runaway train of dating energy. The girl would NOT stop her “laughing.” She was overeager and it was embarrassing to witness her unreciprocated enthusiasm. While she dug and scraped at her Eggs Benedict with feigned interest in eating, the dude peppered her with a question here or there. He was polite, though douchey, playing it cool in that nonchalant way that dudes can affect whilst still wearing sweatpants. There were mentions of “last night” and, curiously enough, “one dollar bills.” There were references to high school and trips to DC. There was a brief swapping of future job interests.

Loudly, and not at all concerned for himself being overheard (because he couldn’t give a shit and is just as, if not more, judgmental than me), my boyfriend remarks more than asks, “What is this, the guy she picked up at the bar last night?” We both laughed and I thought,”I love you for statements like that.” Later, as we quickly wrapped up our breakfast and went about our day, the whole episode got me to thinking…

When you’re in the early stages of a relationship, when you’re still full of hope and joy and giddiness, before you’ve found that one thing that annoys the ever living fuck out of you; you look at couples sitting silently like my boyfriend and I and tell yourself you’ll never let that happen to YOUR relationship. Oh no. Perish the thought.

And then, when you’re in a relationship like ours and you’re sitting in companionable quiet, you mock and smirk at those fledgling couples with open disdain. You reflect upon their doings with genuine gratitude that you no longer have to partake in such put-on happiness and optimism and “oh, isn’t everything just wonderful, I’m never in a bad mood ever, I’m wonderful, like me like me like me!” Instead, you can just be.

I don’t know that one perspective is better than the other, but I’m content and grateful to be with someone like him, someone who I can joke around with and be all judgey and 100% me- annoying habits and bad moods and all.

To actually find our celebrities, we were instructed to go to the library and scan some crazy large BOOK (yes, an actual book- we didn’t even have a computer lab at that time and the Internet wasn’t even a twinkle in Al Gore’s eye). Without much luck and worried about my inability to “complete” the assignment, I located whatever agency she was supposedly tied to at some point in her career and sent my letter there.

That letter, hardly a work of effusive fanaticism let alone eloquence, laid out the details of our writing assignment, shared my like of her movie even though I hate baseball, and suggested that she consider sending me a signed photo- before the end of the school year!- so that I could not only earn an “A” but also be dubbed one of the cool kids who “knows” someone famous. She never wrote back. *Bitch.*

So I have to laugh about it all now because look at how easy it’s become to interact with celebrities, hell with strangers in countries you can hardly even pronounce! Ever since signing up for twitter in December (@nicnarrates), I’ve become shameless in my tweeting. The part of me that is still in sixth grade has latched onto the accessibility it provides and is gorging on the 140 character comment bombs I can drop on Hollywood.

I will literally tweet anyone. Celebrities and none celebrities alike. The Zappos CEO. Brad Goreski. Ross Matthews. Some dude in London. Giuliana Rancic. Why? Well, why not? It is through twitter that I believe I may finally be able to help Jessica Simpson find happiness.  I mean, I already think John Mayer is a toolbag anyway, and if asked I will so punch Vanessa Minnillo in the face.

Which bring me to the most important question of all: Tina Fey, why don’t YOU have a twitter account? Seriously, what’s up with that? If you don’t have the time or inclination, can’t one of the NBC pages follow you around all day and tweet about how awesome you are? Wait, no. You could have me do it! Brilliant!

I’d be incredibly and uniquely! qualified to do so because 1) The 30 Rock theme song has been my ringtone for 3 whole YEARS and I have zero plans on changing it, 2) My ex-boyfriend looks exactly like Alec Baldwin and he spoke to him once, so you know, “three degrees of separation,” and 3) You- or perhaps your alter ego Liz Lemon- and I are practically the same exact person…except we’re not. BUT, we did both get the same hair cut around the same time without consulting with one another (obviously), and I too have often wanted to drink wine on the treadmill (and eat pizza). Oh yeah, and also I admire you as a strong female role model in a world that has brought us such gems as The Pussy Cat Dolls and Megan Fox, and for being a gifted and genuinely funny writer in a predominantly male comedic industry.

Tina Fey, you need twitter. Also, we need to be besties. So, um, why you gonna leave a girl hanging? Why Tina, why?

You’re likely to have seen them before (and given their nature, embedding is unfortunately disabled), but as they say, sharing is caring! So click the links and watch them anyway dammit. I hope they brighten your day too…

• The Jam Wedding. It’s still on my Tivo, and yes, I still watch it. The part at the end when they’re on the boat: it gives me chills and makes me tear up. Every. Single. Time. 
• Yes, indeed. What do tigers dream of when they take a little tiger snooze? The boyfriend and I were singing this song in bed before we went to sleep last night. He gets it. We’re silly and still make each other laugh a lot. 
• Speaking of my boyfriend, he tells me that Kristin Chenoweth is like a “singing pocket gnome” because, you know, “she sings and she’s tiny and could fit in your pocket” or something like that. So, um yeah, there’s that. Anyway, even though I’m no Twi-hard I still saw the movies (yes, really) and am thus “in” on the joke and find this entertaining. 
• Rock the fuck out, Madagascar! Found this and tweeted about it over the holidays. It’s cheesy, yes. But there’s something about it that I just, well, I just love. You’ll find Haiti singing at 2:52, which gives me the opportunity to add that (for anyone in the U.S.) any donations made by the end of February can be deducted from your 2009 tax filing.