All the Young Dudes

In addition to Internet woes and 16-hour work days and work ridiculousness the likes of which I’d never seen in my professional career (seriously, if I could tell you about it I would and you would be interested! Because it’s crazy! SO CRAZY! But I can’t now, obvs) last week was punctuated by blinding migraines that left me in bed by 8 p.m. at best, and puking to the wee hours at worst. It’s good to be back, in other words, and I’m confident that a fresh week will bring new opportunities and a brighter outlook! Hooray!

I have an uncontrollable urge to wax philosophical on the economy, and how interminably frustrating it is that people — many, many people — seem to lack any kind of common sense, and how the fact is that usually by the time people are talking about a recession, we are so deeply entrenched in it that any “stimulus” package is likely to have the effect of four tiny needles thrusting against Mount Everest in futility. Except I am going to control it because it’s incredibly boring, if fascinating only to me, and it’s frustrating! So frustrating!

I mean, I can’t help but consider that the country is largely occupied by idiots, and while that’s not exactly the note of positivity I was hoping to kick off this week with, I believe it is, sadly, true. I remember thinking in 1999, when we — a high-tech PR agency — were turning away business by the truckload, including, I think, a company that sold little more than light bulbs online, that maybe this whole thing was an unsustainable bubble. Personally, I had four clients, all of the dot-com variety, all promising to revolutionize something or other and it was RIDICULOUS, oh so effing ridiculous and even I, at the tender age of 23, could see that it was absurd. At one point I was a paper millionaire, my bonus tendered to me in vaporous stock options now worth approximately $0.0005 total. It crashed, suckers, and so many people acted SURPRISED.

And then the housing boom, with piles and piles of fools standing in line (I saw them! STANDING IN LINE) to pick up their fourth, fifth and in many cases, TWENTIETH cheaply made pre-construction deal, very likely with an ARM (and I’m sorry, look, if you have an ARM, I don’t mean to be insulting, it’s just … well, I hope you thought the whole thing through, because Jesus, a lot of people didn’t). And again, this was a total no-shitter, because really, who was going to live in them? There weren’t enough people to sustain the homes being built, for Christ’s sake — who on earth thought it would be a good idea to pick up ELEVEN? And I know — oh, I do — that a lot of people profited quite nicely, but far too many didn’t, and they are now in foreclosure.

This is all a long way of saying that because of these fools I — a perfectly normal citizen who did not overpay for my totally normal house, of which I own exactly one, not thirty — cannot sell my house and am now in a miserably annoying quagmire involving renting it out and determining precisely how much money I can afford to suck up each month to ride this market out or take a mild short sale. Thank you, idiots of America. I appreciate your business and forethought. Also, please enjoy your nine homes with granite countertops and stainless appliances. Go forth and make nine pot roasts for imaginary guests!

And people are … surprised that we’re heading into a recession? That’s what HAPPENS after a bubble!

And all this before I even dipped into the ridiculousness that is outsourcing vital entry level work overseas, which is another topic I can’t stop thinking about. God, I really didn’t control that at all, did I? Perhaps I shall regale you with that analysis another time, but for now, I’ll tell you that I saw Juno this weekend, and while I liked it fine — I think, I’m honestly not sure, actually, now that I ponder it further — there were bits that made me feel like an 80-year-old Republican with a penchant for Strom Thurmond’s politics. Is it weird that it crossed my mind that it was glamorizing teenage pregnancy a tad? I mean, it made it look so EASY! So easy! Oh, look! Get knocked up and your parents will be totally cool with it, and you will find the perfect (well, almost) family and you will even find love! And have no emotional consequences! I know it wasn’t quite that simple, but it was … well, a little simple, and though I realize that’s not the POINT, it did cross my mind, which makes me old and very uncool. Also, I was unable to garner a shred of sympathy for Jennifer Garner’s character because it was a bit … well, was it overacted to anyone else?

I also can’t help but make the observation that all of the uncool girls in films are actually always cool in that Janeane Garofalo way, which, as a lifelong uncool chick, I can tell you is not how it really is. I mean, I was smart and geeky, but it’s not like I had any kind of in-depth knowledge of Sonic Youth or Mott the Hoople to buoy me, and dude, I wasn’t nearly as hot as Ellen Page or Rachael Leigh Cook (who, by the way, totally looks like Melissa from Sarcomical – is it me?) And let’s all remember that I played the oboe and wore a band uniform and I had not yet discovered the ironic T-shirt, though I think I did have a brief flirtation with horizontally striped tights.

And look, I KNOW, I sound like an old cranky fuddy-duddy, I know, I totally know, and I’m sorry. Would it help if I told you that each and every time I see Michael Cera, I wonder aloud if 19 is too young for a 32-year-old? (Except in the case of Hayden Panettiere and Milo Ventimiglia, it totally is and it kind of grosses me out, because Milo, SERIOUSLY.) (Am old and gross and wear granny panties, apparently. See?)

Happy Tuesday! I hope you had a great long weekend!

*Mott the Hoople, of course. Worst name for a band ever, honestly.

28 comments January 21st, 2008