Sweet sixteen failure

The Yankees won today. Which means I was drunk by about 2:00 pm. I love Sundays at Yankee Stadium. Sunshine and 50,000 people who love baseball as much as Jess and I do. Woo hoo! We got seated next to a group from a mental institution or a halfway house or something. They were actually really sweet and entertaining. The guy next to us kept offering us a bite of his hot dog.

I don't normally read advice columns but here's an exception. I am so impressed that someone could manage to stay a virgin until they were thirty-eight. I'm kind of less-than-impressed that the advice columnist told the woman to address the guy in question and tell him how distressed she is. Yeah, that's gonna work. Why doesn't she tell her to grow a brain and stop sleeping with her co-workers? I mean you waited thirty-eight years and you give it up to the guy in the next cube? Being a virgin doesn't make you brainless, does it?

Do you guys watch Bridezillas? I freaking love this show although I think everyone on it is certifiable. I never used to be a reality TV fan but I never cease to be amazed by what people will allow themselves to be filmed while doing, like throwing a tantrum over centerpieces or calling their mother a bitch. Between Bridezillas and My Super Sweet Sixteen (another show I am ashamed to be addicted to) a new reality has been created. People think they DESERVE to be famous for doing nothing. Fifteen year-olds also think they DESERVE celebrities at their birthday parties and to get a Mercedes before they even get their learner's permit. I think the producers of these shows probably created them because they found the neuroses of their subjects to be amusing and ridiculous but the effect has been profoundly different, I imagine. If I was 16 today I would probably be depressed if I didn't look like the chicks on Laguna Beach and have Ciara performing at my birthday party because, according to television, that is what you are supposed to have. Or your parents don't love you.

Jessica and I were discussing this while being squished on the uptown 4 train this afternoon, which led to reminiscing about our Sweet Sixteen, which consisted on a limo and us and six of our friends having dinner sans parents at the newly opened Planet Hollywood. We thought that was awesome. We felt like total grown-ups because we got to be on our own in the city. And I got what I thought was the best gift, a copy of Achtung Baby, which became my favorite album for the rest of high school. I guess by today's standards I would be considered a total loser.

Hey, speaking of feeling like a loser, did you guys hear that a 25 year-old law student bought The New York Observer? When I think that I don't own anything that's worth more than $200 (with the possible exception of the computer that I am typing this on, which depreciates in value every time I download another kitten video), I realize that my Sweet Sixteen memories are the least of the reasons I am such a loser.

I can't sleep. I am going to go watch the rest of True Romance. I love this movie. Gary Oldman is just FANTASMAGORIC in it. The scene with the "Is it white boy day?" speech is freaking classic. Maybe all the murder and mayhem will make me sleepy. At least until the point where James Gandolfini beats the hell out of Alabama. Then I'll have to change the channel.