1. “Timer”
2. “The Hangover,” but only the photo roll during the credits. The rest, honestly? It wasn’t the funniest movie I’ve ever seen. But any movie J and I saw in the theater this year gets major points because being in a movie theater was such a big deal that I remember each and every movie theater experience since Nora was born extremely fondly.
3. “Kicking and Screaming,” for the millionth time, which wasn’t made in 2009 and which never, ever loses its magic.

Um, holy shit. I can’t remember any other movies I saw this year. I saw “Funny People,” which I thought was, like, four or five hours too long, and last night J and I went to see “Avatar,” which I’m pretty sure deserves a post of its own.

Top five songs I heard:

1. “Daylight” by Matt & Kim - sometimes I daydream that I go out dancing somewhere and I ask them to play this song and they DO
2. “River” by Akron/Family
3. “Lights Out” by Santogold - number one song for turning up loud when I’m alone in the car
4. “Empire State of Mind” by Jay-Z - the presence of this song on the list indicates my desperate need to get back into music
5. “Skinny Love” by Bon Iver - although, apparently, this song was released in 2008

Readers, your turn. Comments, bring it.

I’ve been listening to the song “Daylight” by Matt and Kim a bunch on my iPod while I’m running and, yeah, I know that probably everybody who heard that song played in the ads for the NBC show “Community” downloaded it, and that it’s not cool or novel to like it so much, but I can’t help myself. Catchy, upbeat music has been where it’s at for me the past few months, and while I’m merely inching forward - slowly - in my quest to find worthwhile new music, I am, indeed, inching.

The song has the added bonus of causing me to, happily, think of Joel McHale (despite the fact that I don’t really like “Community” and am glad he’s still got “The Soup”), who I am a little bit in love with, and before you go saying anything, J, need I remind you of the adoration heaped upon a certain business and finance reporter every single weekday morning?

J is standing in our living room in his pajama pants and a t-shirt right now, watching the World Series Game 1 - a game, by the way, that I adamantly told him I would not watch with him, because I knew he was going to be obnoxious.

I told him, “No thanks, that sounds like a terrible night and I have a Dan Brown novel to read. I’ll be upstairs.”

But lo and behold, the game’s been on a couple hours and I’m still down here, sort of watching. J hasn’t been all that obnoxious, despite the fact that I informed him I would (obviously) be supporting the Phillies. Which, in this instance, is as easy as not getting excited when the Yankees do anything remarkable. The worst he’s done is tried to show me where he was sitting when he went to the Yankees/Angels game Sunday night, repeatedly pointing to the screen and saying, loudly, “Cara! Look! Look! Look! That’s where we were sitting.”

I’m not sure of the exact reasoning behind this, but I’m pretty sure my being a Red Sox fan allows me to ignore such behavior.

In any case I wanted to write a post in public support of the Not Yankees Phillies. My new favorite team. That I know nothing about. Except how much they are going to rock the World Series.

As I was saying, I’m busy September 22, 2010 because I’m going to see Pavement.

Ok. Background.

Please forgive me if I’ve told this rather un-climatic story before, either on this blog, or when we were hanging out and I was telling you about the more ridiculous moments in my young life, when, not only did I think I was really awesome, but you wanna know what? Maybe I was really awesome.

We were at this party. I don’t remember what year this was, but it was some point during my time at Boston University, and I’m guessing - due to the nature of the conversation I am about to relate - that we were in Allston or Brighton, student-heavy residential areas a little west of the main campus, where the bars were plentiful and the housing less expensive. It’s where the cool kids lived and partied and then went out for breakfast in an post-drunk-or-maybe-a-little-still-drunk stupor.

Anyway, I was at this party and let’s just imagine, for the sake of visualization, that I was wearing some corduroys I’d bought at the thrift store. And I’m getting a beer or something in the kitchen and I overheard some people talking about Pavement. Well, wouldn’t you know, I was a Pavement fan! I don’t know who’d gotten me into them…the always influential Matt Barbee and his mixed tapes, or maybe my brother, but no matter, I was a fan, and if there was one thing I knew as sure as I loved college parties was that it was really, really radical to a) know who Pavement was and b) be a fan.

I mean, it’s not like Pavement is some super-unknown band; they’re really well known in the world of indie rock, in fact. But for a young twenty-something, making her way at a large and diverse university, knowing about Pavement was, at certain parties, a good way of singling out the other music lovers. And then what you’d do is talk about the albums.

So I get in on the conversation and I’m talking to this girl who’s leaning against the door and is all “You like Pavement?” and I’m like “Yeah,” and we’re sort of drunk and life IS RADICAL. And she’s all, “Well, you know what their best album is, right? It’s ‘Wowee Zowee.’”

Now, people, everyone says that “Wowee Zowee” is the best Pavement album and I don’t know why. It’s full of short, weird little songs and I think the reason people say it’s their favorite is because liking Pavement isn’t unique enough and they want to try and be a little edgier. That’s just what I think, I can’t help it.

I countered that my favorite album was “Slanted and Enchanted,” which actually isn’t true anymore, but at the time, you know what? I wasn’t gonna follow all the “Wowee Zowee” lemmings. The two of us really got into it then, talking about the specifics of certain songs in sort of deranged, youthful analysis that I’m not even capable of anymore. Others joined the conversation and I semi-abandoned the people I’d come with. I’d become the cool girl who came to the party who loved Pavement, when I could have been a just another guest. A minor event, yes, but in the history of my musical past, a very nice memory.

So when my friend Jennifer called me the other day to announce that Pavement (the band sadly disbanded several years ago) was getting together for a reunion tour, and then found out that a few tickets would be going on sale early, there was simply no question, we had to get them. So we went online while on the phone to each other, like over excited seventh graders (if the Internet had existed in the way it does now when we were 13) and waited until the appointed hour and we got those tickets. Because it’s Pavement, and my love has never waned. I hope they play “Summer Babe.” And I know it will rock.

We’re having a little Internet situation at our house so this isn’t exactly going to be a proper blog post. Something’s amiss with our connection so right now I’m, um, borrowing from someone. It’s not exactly a surefire way to stay online. Yeah, I know, I could write in Word and then paste the entry during one of the 30-second-intervals I’m on, but I don’t know, that seems desperate. And my posting every day for three weeks wasn’t a desperation thing.

I’m kind of bummed because I was really excited to write about Pavement tonight. Pavement the band, who I am going to see when they go on their reunion tour in slightly less than one year. Slightly less than one year, guys! Is it too soon to say I can’t wait? It might be a little soon. OR NOT! More tomorrow.

From my couch.

Tonight.

Glass of red wine in hand.

“The Hills” premiere.

Will Lauren be missed? Will Kristin bring the drama?

Commence the discussion.

And follow me later.

I read in “Us Weekly” the other day that Jon Gosselin was at some after party for the Emmys. What? What’s he doing at any after party, Emmys-related or otherwise? Jon Gosselin! I thought you said you hated the press. Don’t you remember? Why are you suddenly big news in the gossip mags? And why do I read it so fervently?

BrickBreaker is awesome. IT IS AWESOME.

I give up. I read mysteries. I love them and I don’t want to read anything else. And you want to know why that’s ok? Because I did my time with the great works of literature. When I was a teenager I stayed up all night reading Thomas Wolfe and John Steinbeck novels like they were crack cocaine for the soul. And when I read “The Sorrows of Young Werther,” I underlined pretty much the whole book, thinking, every five seconds, “That is exactly how I feel, that’s just how I feel!!!”

I also want to read the new Dan Brown novel like you wouldn’t believe. I heard you can buy it in the grocery store.

Speaking of BrickBreaker, Nora practically had a nervous breakdown when I wouldn’t give her my BlackBerry today. It was one of those parenting situations where I tried to do the right thing in not giving it to her, thinking, “This kid has to learn that she can’t have whatever she wants whenever she wants it.” Then her little face crumpled and she let loose one of those cries that consists of a huge sucking in of breath and then “WawawawaWAAAAAAAAAAAH.” But don’t feel sorry for the little one just yet because guess what. She’s a faker. And it worked. I gave her my BlackBerry and the “crying” immediately ceased, replaced by the smug, ultra-serious look she adopts when she is emailing all her business associates or whatever she does with that thing.

You are good people who want to promote independent, creative projects. If you weren’t that kind of people, I wouldn’t adore you the way I do.

My best friend Jennifer (do you guys want me to post a picture of us in our first communion gowns when we were six, to prove to you the history and depth of our friendship? Because I will) is currently producing a film in New York City, but the project NEEDS YOUR HELP. Come on, everybody, let’s help the brilliant and talented women behind “Maria My Love.” Here’s a paragraph about the film (that I stole directly from their Web site and I hope it doesn’t get me into copyright trouble), which is based on a true story:

MARIA MY LOVE is about a 22 year-old woman who, in an effort to recover from the death of her mother to cancer, sets out on a quest to help people but winds up encountering situations more emotionally and morally complicated than she had expected to find.

You guys are totally intrigued. I can tell. So learn more on the project’s Kickstarter site by watching a video and reading a synopsis of the film. The minimum donation is $10. T-E-N bucks! Give ‘em 10! Give ‘em a thousand! Or, you know, do what you can.

Dear Mike,

Hi! How’s it going? How’s Chapel Hill? We miss it there. And we miss you and Jess.

Mike, you know what? I’ve always appreciated that we tend to have the same taste in certain things. In fact, we often hate the same things, which is kinda neat. Like non-useful hippies. And music! There is so much music that we both hate! The Decemberists. The Goddamn Fleet Foxes.

I trust your judgment. I mean, The Twilight Singers show at Cat’s Cradle? That was seriously incredible, and I’d never even listened to them before. One of the most memorable concerts I ever attended in North Carolina, Mike.

And remember when we went to see LCD Soundsystem? That was radical.

So when I was filling up my iPod for a recent road trip, looking at the albums J had most recently uploaded onto our desktop, I saw this artist called SND, and I was like, “Hey J, what’s SND?” and he went on to describe it as something like “minimal blip hop” or “blip bop” or “blip rock” or something - I don’t really remember if you want to know the truth - and then he said, “It’s Mike Swimm’s favorite album of the year!” and I thought, “Ok, could be promising.”

We don’t agree on everything, Mike, like I think I remember you once saying that New Order would have been a better band if there hadn’t been any singing, and I don’t agree with you there, but like I said, I trust your judgment. Therefore, I thought maybe SND’s album, which is called “Atavism” would be full of subtle, wordless songs that I could at least appreciate, meanwhile expanding my musical purview. Score!

I was pumped for this road trip. For the first time in a long time I was getting into new music and it was exciting. I put my iPod on “shuffle songs” and just let it go. Everything sounded so incredible and new.

That is, until this one song came on. Or maybe “song” is the wrong word. Maybe “piece” would be a better way to describe what SND (what the hell does SND stand for anyway?) is trying to do.

Mike, I know you like minimal blip blop or whatever, but come on.

MIKE.

COME.

ON!

Those SND tracks, that are, by the way, creatively titled “1,” “2,” “3″ and so on, they sound like, well, like someone gently tapping a metal hanger against the hood of a car. But more boring. I’m going to admit something here, and that is that I didn’t listen to any entire SND songs. The most I listened to was one full minute of one song and I had to force myself. You know why I had to force myself? Because SND makes music that sounds like this: duh duh duh duh duh dum dum duh duh duh duh duh dum dum dahdum, real quiet. And then the song’s over.

Ok, fine, maybe I’m not the right target audience or something. For instance, I’m the kind of person who likes Van Morrison, and I think, by law, that people who like musicians such as Van Morrison can’t like music devoid of all emotion. That was probably made by a guy dressed in black, sitting in front of a sound board, smoking a cigarette, reading “The Stranger.”

It’s ok, though. I don’t get it, but it’s ok. We’re still friends and we can agree to disagree on this one point. Different strokes for different folks, huh? That’s what makes the world an interesting place. I mean, you’re crazy. But life is awesome!

I hope everything is going well and we should plan a get together.

See you soon!

Cara

PS - I tried the Penne a la Vodka recipe from The Silver Spoon cookbook and, you’re right, it’s amazing.