As I’m sure you already know, this past Sunday was the Golden Globes, an awards show where a bunch of white people get up and congratulate a different bunch of white people. You might be surprised to hear that I don’t actually watch awards shows. There are two major reasons for this. The first is that I never watch television broadcasts in real time. Instead, I prefer to binge-watch entire seasons of shows in a single sitting. The second reason is why would I want to watch celebrities pretending to be sane people, when I can watch real people pretending to be celebrities?
However, I just had to watch the opening monologue. Tina Fey and Amy Poehler are two of my idols. In fact, over the summer I saw Amy Poehler as I walked the streets of the East Village. She walked like a normal mom might, holding hands with her sons on either side of her. I pretended like she was a regular non-celeb/pleb, but inside, my heart was beating out of my chest. When I see a celebrity in the wild, I typically leave them alone — unless they are reality TV stars, because you know they love the attention. But I always make a concerted effort to stare at them and their families so that they know that I know who they are and that I am a respectful, yet adoring fan — or maybe just a creepy onlooker.
Last weekend I bought Poehler’s book at a random Barnes & Noble in New Jersey (don’t ask). If the book is even half as good as my fellow Philadelphia suburbs-raised homie Tina Fey’s “Bossypants,” I will be very pleased.
In case you’re wondering, I prefer “30 Rock” (R.I.P.) to the still-hilarious “Parks and Recreation.” Regardless, both women hold top spots in my list of feminist entertainers and public figures that I wouldn’t mind switching bodies and lives with à la “Freaky Friday.” Just as long as I’m not trapped in Lindsay Lohan’s body ( a scary place, I’d imagine ) or in Jamie Lee Curtis’s body (doing Activia yogurt commercials, so even scarier).
Let’s move on to a form of entertainment that is not as mind-numbing as awards shows (post-opening monologue of course).
“Serial.”
Alas, even though it is now 2015 — despite what I accidentally write as the date — all I can think about is murderous events that occurred in the ’90s in the U.S. mid-Atlantic region.
Now, Phil, I know what you’re thinking. What could be better than staring into Channing Tatum’s eyes as he degrades the quality of yet another movie? The answer is a lot of things — but especially the podcast “Serial” (there are no visuals and it’s still riveting).
Warning: the following joke 1) isn’t funny and 2) won’t make sense to people who’ve never listened but... “Do you use MailChimp? I use MailChimp.” Phil Hanlon uses MailChimp.
The first season of “Serial” explores the nonfiction murder of a young woman, Hae Min Lee. Jan. 13th, 1999 marks the last sighting of Baltimore-area high school senior, who would later be found dead in the infamous Leakin Park, which I think is the inspiration behind the band Linkin Park and, more importantly, my go-to nail polish color, Linkin Park After Dark. On an even lighter note, on this day in 1999 I turned five-and-a-half. If you haven’t already sent me your best wishes for my half-birthday this past Tuesday, feel free to send me a dozen red roses and/or a sizable Edible Arrangement (looking at you, Phil).
To summarize the entire series, Hae’s ex-boyfriend, Adnan Sayed, has been in jail for the past 15-ish years for her murder and to this day maintains his innocence. Is Adnan just an innocent who happens to be the most unlucky and forgetful guy this side of the Mason-Dixon line? WTF was he doing the day Hae disappeared?!
While I’ve been known to tweet #freeadnan on occasion (once), it may be time to face the truth. I spent a significant portion of winterim (approximately 12 hours) listening to the series, relistening to episodes out of order and poring through Reddit posts and conspiracy theories.
I haven’t been able to find a photograph taken of Adnan since he traded his Woodlawn High School track uniform (he was a jock AND in the 30-person magnet program AND a first responder AND a sexually active smoker of marijuana) for the orange (I’m just guessing here — it could be tan or striped) jumpsuit issued by the Maryland Correctional Facility.
I have a new world view these days, and it goes as follows: There are two kinds of people in the world — those who listened or are in the process of listening to “Serial” and those who have not. And then there’s me, one of a kind, or so I’d like to think: the person who listens to “Serial” episodes multiple times but usually not in the right order. I’m just assuming no one else in the world has also done this.
Oh Adnan. Clearly host Sarah Koenig has fallen under Adnan’s most likely sociopathic charm. I’ll fight Sarah Koenig to the death for his love. I hope he’s grown into his looks/himself, though.
I feel like a true Ivy League intellectual listening to this podcast, since it’s associated with NPR.
I’ve lost many a night’s sleep tossing and turning, trying to figure out who really killed Hae Min Lee. I so badly want it to not be Adnan, but I am beginning to acknowledge that he — and Jay, the Dennis Rodman (!) of Woodlawn High School/the porn shop he worked at — was probably involved to some degree in Hae’s disappearance and murder on that fateful January day, which, again, was also the day I turned five-and-a-half.
I truly resent that we will likely never know exactly what happened (although I am really counting on the Innocence Project to figure it out). But alas, this is one of many uncertainties in life. There are just some things we’ll never know.
Why is the sky blue? Do dogs dream in color or in black and white? What is it about Anne Hathaway that makes me vomit and cry at the same time? Is it her absurdly large mouth and toothy grin? Is it that she just is too much of a thespian to handle the big screen? I’ll probably never be able to figure out what exactly revs my engine when I see Anne Hathaway. Why do most people in the U.S. also hate her? Again, there is no way to truly know and there may never be. I am just really glad she wasn’t the host of the Golden Globes after her sickening 2011 Oscars show with James Franco.
Is Beyoncé pregnant or was that Instagram just posted to keep us guessing? I suppose we’ll know about that one soon.
Thankfully, there are some things that I know for certain. One of these things is that Dartmouth students (or visitors/ faculty) don’t know how to use public restrooms properly and respectfully.
Stay tuned for my stories next week. Also tell me that isn’t a “Serial”-like cliff-hanger.
