This week mark's the 15th anniversary of the release of Madonna's "Erotica" album and her sex campaign. Accompanied with the SEX book, Girlie Show world tour and the film "Body of Evidence," 1992-93 found Madonna at the height of her fame, landing her on the covers of Vogue, Vanity Fair and Newsweek. Sadly, this publicity saturation eclipsed a very phenomenal album. Upon its release Rolling Stone gave "Erotica" 4 stars, calling it brilliant. Other critics were not as kind and the album was a commercial "disappointment," selling only six million copies.
It's one of my absolute all-time favorite albums, which, after 15 years, still gives me fever.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Banks For Nothing
This past Sunday, as I was enjoying the extended weekend, I swung by a Bank of America ATM with some friends to get some more booze money. After reluctantly accepting the inexplicable three dollar surcharge, the machine failed to fully eject my card; leaving it visible but unobtainable. A friend of mine, who works in the banking industry, carelessly said, “No problem. I can get it out with my keys.” Immediately after jamming his keys into the machine it swallowed my card and informed me it was keeping it. I can't believe that didn't work. It also failed to give me any money.
Two days without a debit card is a long time, especially when there's beer to be had. Cut to Tuesday -- when the real fun begins. I arrive at the Bank of America and inform the teller of the bank’s ravenous ATM. He sifts through a large stack of cards the machine has gobbled up only to tell me that mine is not there. I describe the card to him. “It’s a dark blue Wachovia card and the machine took it Sunday,” I slowly and loudly explain to him. “Oh,” he gasps. “Since it happened two days ago and it’s not a Bank of America card, it was destroyed.”
Super. So now I have to order a new card. I hop across Dupont Circle and head to the Wachovia on Connecticut Ave. After being directed to costumer service I tell the employee my card was destroyed and I need a new one. She immediately cancels my account and starts to create a new one when I tell her I just want a new card. “Oh,” she says, “You need costumer service for that.” “But you are costumer service,” I remind her. “No, you need national costumer service.” Jesus. She takes me to a corner desk with a phone, dials the number and takes a step back. At this point I’m glad I didn’t shower before I started my journey. A few minutes later my account has been restored and my new card ordered, which will be swiftly delivered to me in seven to 10 business days. I should have it by Christmas.
Sadly, my bank excursion did not end then. Inside my backpack I was carrying a box of change. I should have known to not even ask the tellers at Wachovia. Such a task as dumping a box of change into an automatic coin counter is far too strenuous for them. So I headed to Commerce bank, where I proudly converted my nickels and dimes into quarters so I can finally do laundry.
And by noon I had visited three banks in one hour, two of which I don’t even have accounts at.
Two days without a debit card is a long time, especially when there's beer to be had. Cut to Tuesday -- when the real fun begins. I arrive at the Bank of America and inform the teller of the bank’s ravenous ATM. He sifts through a large stack of cards the machine has gobbled up only to tell me that mine is not there. I describe the card to him. “It’s a dark blue Wachovia card and the machine took it Sunday,” I slowly and loudly explain to him. “Oh,” he gasps. “Since it happened two days ago and it’s not a Bank of America card, it was destroyed.”
Super. So now I have to order a new card. I hop across Dupont Circle and head to the Wachovia on Connecticut Ave. After being directed to costumer service I tell the employee my card was destroyed and I need a new one. She immediately cancels my account and starts to create a new one when I tell her I just want a new card. “Oh,” she says, “You need costumer service for that.” “But you are costumer service,” I remind her. “No, you need national costumer service.” Jesus. She takes me to a corner desk with a phone, dials the number and takes a step back. At this point I’m glad I didn’t shower before I started my journey. A few minutes later my account has been restored and my new card ordered, which will be swiftly delivered to me in seven to 10 business days. I should have it by Christmas.
Sadly, my bank excursion did not end then. Inside my backpack I was carrying a box of change. I should have known to not even ask the tellers at Wachovia. Such a task as dumping a box of change into an automatic coin counter is far too strenuous for them. So I headed to Commerce bank, where I proudly converted my nickels and dimes into quarters so I can finally do laundry.
And by noon I had visited three banks in one hour, two of which I don’t even have accounts at.
Friday, October 5, 2007
A Final Plea For 'Liza With a Z'
Will no one go with me to see Liza? Tickets are only $50 and you know it's going to be an amazing show that we'll never forget. Sadly, the same can't be said for Liza. That old girl doesn't know where she is half the time. The show is Saturday, Oct. 27, in Baltimore and this is the LAST chance you'll ever get to see her. She's already half dead. I hope she sings Don't Drop Bombs!
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Masterpiece Theater: Vol. 3
Like a cold sore that won't go away, Undressed is back! And this episode has the best romantic line ever; it involves badminton.
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