Jen and Vince- It's (Somewhat) Official

I was at the Dwight Yoakam show tonight at the House of Blues in Chicago. I spent a lot of time trying to convince my boyfriend beforehand, as somewhat of a selling tool, that Vince Vaughn would be at this show. Why? Because Vince did a very sexy dance number to a Dwight tune in his film A Cool, Dry Place. Yep, Vince was there. He wasn't alone, mind you. At first I looked up and saw that he was being very affectionate with this gal, there was a lot of cuddling, hugging, spooning and such, which from what I understand from his playboy rep, is a bit out of character for him. Then, when I looked at the gal a little closer I thought, "Wow, there must be some truth to the Jen thing, cause that girl looks a lot like her", thinking that he was deep in like with Jen, and if they couldn't be together, by God, he was gonna be with a gal who looked just like her. Then the lights came full up and I know for sure that it was her. It was Jen. My sighting was confirmed by 2 other friends who'd been watching the same spectacle. Now, I think further on this and know for sure it was her because, a) a friend just saw her and Vince tooling around town the other day, and b) filming is coming to a close for The Breakup here in Chicago. Also, I know that Jen and Brad's divorce was just approved by a judge this week and will be official in early October. Now, I am not saying any of this as a tattle, I just like to remind people from time to time that while tabloids are a lot of time full of bohunk, most rumors are founded in some semblance of fact. More than anything I wish I coulda made my way up to Jen and given her a high five. Fuck Brad. I have never been the biggest Brad fan. I think he's a marginal actor, and I have never been a devotee of his pocked face enough to think he was the Sexiest Man Alive. Also, having personal experience with cheaters, I think Jen's bound to, and has more than the right to, act out any way she likes, with anyone she likes, to get anywhere near back to good. Maybe V.V. isn't the next Mr. Aniston, and why should he be? By all accounts he is Mr. Good Times and that's exactly what I would want were I treading in her shoes right now. I read the Vanity Fair article and I cried with her when they meddlingly informed her of the Angelina's-preggers rumor, mostly for the emotional shock value. Maybe she woulda heard it eventually, but did Vanity Fair need to be the one to break it to her? Fuck no. Let's not forget, she's a human. I kept thinking that while I couldn't help but stare up at her tonight. Why was I so intent of figuring this all out? Because I am media-trained. Doesn't stop me from thanking God that I am no celebrity. The standards they are held to are ridiculous. Plus, they have not one modicum of privacy if they are big enough stars. The price you pay, you say? Not fair, I say. This is why I would never want to be bigger than Parker Posey or Christina Ricci. They're just right, just like the final bowl of Goldie Locks porridge.

Poor Jen. Won't be Poor Jen for long, though. Jen, you have my full support. Fuck Brad, that dick.

Comcast, you sly devil.

Came home and flipped on my television this evening. Hit the GUIDE button, just as I always do and the guide that popped up is not the guide I know and love. It's some deep sea blue abomination that seems awfully hard to read to my ever-aging eyes. "Christ, now I gotta learn the flow all over again", I said aloud to no one. Comcast never told me they were making sweeping changes to my service. Perhaps they did on 1 of the 15 extraneous slips of paper folded carefully folded into my monthly bill so as to eject on separate and random paths when cued by my pull from the envelope. Pick those up and dump those directly into the trash, I will. Show them to fuck with me, I will.

Comcast doesn't stop there with the sweeping changes, though the next change is surely a welcome one. Seems years ago Comcast gave me cable music stations and just as quickly as I came to depend on them for conjuring any mood I chose, Comcast saw fit to mysteriously pull them from my cable repertoire. Bastards. Well, it's back, and man is it ever. First stop, Classic Country. As if programmed by genius, Don Williams was first in line. And we're not talking 'I Believe in You' or any other obvious hit, we're talking "Heartbeat in the Darkness". From the Definitive Collection, but not an obvious choice. Next we're on to Classic R&B where I was treated to The Stylistics' "You Make Me Feel Brand New". I misted up a bit. Nostalgic tears. Man, I loved The Stylistics when I was little. My favorite was "You Are Everything". They were one of those bands I thought for sure was staffed with a female lead only to find there was no female in the band. I thought Smokey Robinson was a woman for a long time, would argue with my parents about it. There was no way "Being With You" was sung by a man. It would take years for me to develop the gender bender region of my brain and accept things as being out of neat categories.

On to the Metal channel, which I am still a little shocked wasn't my first stop. First song out of the gate was Soundgarden's "Outshined". Hmm. Now, I tend to get a little bitchy when people start dumping any and every song that is even slightly harder than "Mmbop" into the Metal category. Soundgarden was a lot harder in its early days, yes, but "Outshined" was grunge and grunge is rock, not metal. Just don't argue with me on that. Next selection was "Blackmail the Universe" from Megadeth. Now, I can get behind that reigning hell on the Metal channel. Since then, the channel's gone into a direction I don't exactly love. We've had Iced Earth, and they're fine. "Prison Sex" just ended and now Nehemiah is screaming at me. Now, here's how I break out my love/hate for metal. If you're kicking ass and I feel like you are inviting me to kick ass with you by singing along, air guitaring, coming up to drum solo, whatever, then I am all over it. If I feel like you are screaming at me in an angry dog bark and I can't understand your lyrics, which I assume are all about condemned souls, hell on earth and evil gnomes, then I am not all about it. I want metal that deals with the lighter, good times in life. Metal that speaks to me about things I know all about- teenage delinquency, rebelling against the man, hating your job, partying, being a badass and most importantly- liquor. I don't need to hear Meshuggah scrowl for a constant minute, unabated. Gimme Paul Stanley's opening wail in "Heaven's on Fire" over that industrial sandpaper shit anyday.

And now "Man in the Box" is on. Again, NOT METAL. I think at this point I should just change the channel, cause I'm getting a little too worked up. Let's take a look around.

Arena Rock. "Yankee Rose". A+. Did you know Diamond David Lee Roth was born on Oct. 10th, 1955 in Bloomington, IN?

Classic Rock. "Let's Dance". Um, am I so old that 1983 is now considered "classic"? If so, then what's 1969? Mesozoic? I'll let the fact that "Let's Dance" is, like, the definition of pop slide on this one.

Retroactive. Don't know what the hell that is, but apparently it's "Message in a Bottle".

Soft Rock. Oh boy, I love me some soft rock, and Billy Ocean takes me there. Yes, Billy, there will be sad songs to make you cry. Happens to me everyday. Anyone know when Billy got dreads?

Singers and Standards. Anita O'Day and Billy May's take on "Spring is Here". Anita O'Day was born Anita Belle Colton.

70's. "Black Dog". The first Zeppelin song I remember hearing, though it was "Over the Hills and Far Away" that put me over the edge.

Light Classical. Now there's a concept. For those who can't stand the unadulterated thrashing of regular classical.

Metal. Oh yes, much better. Now Priest is metal. "Metal Gods" is metal, though the chorus could be a bit more dramatic. Pro-Pain. Wow. Contents Under Pressure. That was one of the first records I worked when I signed on with Sony. I forgot all about that band. And now we're back to Lamb of God and the scrowling I hate. Conan O'Brien did a nice bit last night about these hard core bands leafing through bibles trying to find their names. What, praytell, is the fascination? Chimaira. I hear good things about them. Kerry King is a big fan. They are from Cleveland and we all know that Cleveland rocks. The members of Chimaira play ESP guitars. Wow. Guitars that can sense what you are going to play before you even play it. Seems like cheating to me.

Enough of the loitering. It's time for Adult Swim.

P.S. How's my driving?