Friends, you may have noticed that our regular Gossip Girl recap was MIA yesterday. And you’ll notice tomorrow that Modern Family’s is missing too. Same for 30 Rock on Friday. There’s a reason for this.

In this past premiere month, we’ve presented you with a lot of content, much of which was really a trial period for Jordin and I. It was an opportunity for us to see what would work and what wouldn’t. The reception that you’ve shown us in this first month has been more than we could have even imagined and for that, we are truly grateful.

However, you will begin to notice some changes. Our unique features, like Remember Me? and Fresh Look Friday, will remain intact, while we’re working on some ideas that will bring even more unique content to the site. We’ll start presenting these ideas next week, beginning with the TV portion of the blog.

For the remainder of this week, look forward to the daily Viral Vision and Jordin’s Fresh Look Friday. And we’ll see you next week with some really exciting new stuff!

Also, if you’re liking what you see, be sure to tell your friends about us and follow us on Twitter: @3FING3RS!


So it’s my Spring Break and all, and while other, normal 23 year old girls are in Cabo doing tequila body shots and taking their clothes off for random strangers, I am stuck in San Francisco on my 6th straight day of work.  (Though, to be fair, I DID spend last night crying into a beer and watching Rebel Without a Cause, and then fell asleep at 10pm, so….clearly I’m a party animal.) Being that I am currently locked in a hotel lobby waiting patiently for people to come in and bitch at me for making it rain on their vacation, I cannot properly view any videos since there’s no sound on these computers. WHAT DO I DO?! Choose a random video on YouTube and cross my fingers that it’s funny? That would be irresponsible. How about post a clip from an episode of Frasier and completely solidify my fate of being a middle aged divorcee stuck in the body of a 20-something college student? Obviously, this is the right answer.

Oh, what a harrowing experience to be a nine year old girl! As a 23 year old woman in the world today, I have to worry about rent, bills, grades, and not getting accidently knocked up by my imaginary boyfriend. But friends, all of that is nothing compared to the death and doom of being nine. Fascist bedtimes, daily forced feedings of vegetables, cooties running rampant; it was a war-zone. Amid all of the chaos, however, there was one beacon of light. One delicate, beauteous creature whose very existence made elementary aged girls sing for joy. I think you know who I mean. We know him by many names: Scott Wormer, Junior Floyd, Casper the Friendly Ghost who turns into Casper the Friendly Pre-Pubescent Boy. Yes friends, today’s Remember Me? here on 3FING3RS features none other than Devon Sawa.

Devon Edward Sawa was born in 1978 in Vancouver. A Canadian! I dated a Canadian once (well, not so much “dated” as “made out with in a hammock in Zanzibar” and let me tell you: they’re good people. He started out on a Canadian kid’s show called KidZone, which I know nothing about. I’m relatively certain I don’t care enough to look it up, so I’m just going to pretend it’s basically the Canadian version of Kid’s Incorporated, which was basically the greatest television show to ever be produced. In 1994 he was cast alongside Rick Moranis and Ed O’Neill in Little Giants. In case you guys were wondering, my dad took me to see Little Giants after I made him come pick me up from a birthday party because after cake and ice cream, everyone started watching The X- Files and I didn’t go for that noise. At the time, I was just getting over a very traumatizing recurring nightmare involving a giant, rabid horse gobbling up my family in the middle of the night and spitting their brains out into the hallway, so that supernatural shit just wasn’t my thing. Also, I was 8. What kind of 8 year old watches The X-Files? That noise was scary.

AT ANY RATE, in Little Giants he played Junior Floyd, the Pee-Wee football prodigy who the two feuding teams each wanted to have play for them. He was also the love interest for the little girl who loved to play football but thought in order to get Junior to like her that she would have to stop being such a big fat lez and start wearing blush and join the cheerleading squad. Because obviously if a boy doesn’t like you for who you are, it is your responsibility to change yourself into whatever he wants you to be. I JEST. In the end, Junior ends up telling her that he likes her just the way she is and she goes back to playing football. Shared interests! It was because of this fantastic and ever so unexpected twist in the script that made me, 8 year old Jordin Heath, begin my love affair with Devon Sawa.

After Little Giants Devon went on to be featured in the live action version of Casper. He only had like, 4 minutes of screen time, but you had better believe that I made my parents take me to see that movie 5 times. He then starred in Now and Then, a coming of age movie set in the 70s where Christina Ricci grows up to be Rosie O’Donnell. SAD.

Here for your viewing pleasure is a clip of Devon’s scene in Casper. To get the full effect, go back in time and watch this as an eight year old girl:

After he grew up a bit, Devon went on to star in more “adult” films (not the good kind) like Final Destination and Idle Hands. As it would turn out though, Monsieur Sawa is what we in the biz like to call a “not very good actor” and while he has been working fairly steadily, it’s mostly in movies with titles like Extreme Ops (which would be better if it were called X-TREME OPS because people love capital letters) and Blood Angel.

Devon’s personal life in the last few years has been rather shady. In March of 2005 he was arrested for drunk driving (or, if you are from England, “drink driving” which sounds silly) and then two months later he was arrested again for stealing a car. You would think he’d save up his salary from Little Giants for a down-payment on a Corolla or something, but apparently not. In November of that same year he was arrested for evading arrest, stemming from a parole violation, and then sadly in July of 2006 he got thrown in the slammer for domestic violence and possession of marijuana. So apparently, Casper the Friendly Ghost is a lady beating, car lifting, hop head. It’s a good thing he and I never got together, because my sensibilities are way too delicate for that noise.

So there you have it! Another gem from the past re-discovered. Since Billy’s Remember Me? from last month preceded the outing of Ricky Martin, perhaps Devon Sawa will soon be thrust into the limelight once more. Here’s hoping it’s for something positive, and not because he’s on trial for felony murder.

This video has been making the rounds for a little while now. It is supposed to some elementary school performance of a watered-down Scarface. It’s sort of cute, but mostly weird. Part of me can’t help but feel like this is some hoax and there isn’t really a school somewhere that allowed this.

But! If there was a school, what sort of parent would sit through this and not laugh the entire time? If you actually had to stones to be okay with your child performing in a stage version of Brian De Palma’s drug opus, wouldn’t you also automatically have the sense of humor to laugh along with it? That audience is suspiciously quiet.

So, watch and let me know: hoax or not?

Also, one requirement for my liking your music: I must want to sleep with you.

So, I need to get something cleared up. Contrary to what this post, and my music library, may make you believe, I absolutely loathe American Idol. I stopped watching the rating-juggernaut years ago. I grew disheartened by the ridicule and cruelty shown to the delusional auditioning contestants in the show’s early weeks. (And, anticipating your argument, yes, I realize the most delusional need to be told they have no chance. But it doesn’t have to be done in a way that makes the person a complete joke. If the show was really striving to celebrate artistry, they wouldn’t make this such a focus.) And, on the same token, I grew irritated with the shlock-fest the show would become in the finalist portion of the competition. Every batch of contestants was always the BEST GROUP EVER, even when they weren’t, by a long shot. Look, I went to a performing arts school where I worked alongside a group of talent that could out-sing about 85% of the contestants to grace the Idol stage, I know of what I speak. While I don’t watch, I’ve encountered footage of some of this season’s “singers” and they could be described, at best, as “turgid”.

This isn’t to say the show hasn’t produced some successful, and sometimes even miraculously great, artists: Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, Adam Lambert, Kris Allen, Jordin Sparks, this week’s focus Blake Lewis; and, hey, I even loved a few of Katherine McPhee’s singles. I owe the show that much credit. I just wish it existed somewhere else, where it didn’t suck ratings and money from scripted programming that people actually pour their artistic lives into creating. That’s all.

(And, yes, I totally realize I’m in a minority in this opinion. The ratings prove that to me every week. People gobble this shit up, while shows like Better Off Ted, Dollhouse, and Chuck are routinely ignored. People also believe the shit that Sarah Palin has to say. I understand little of how the world works.)

But, like I said, some people come out of the behemoth and do some great stuff. Blake Lewis is one of them. He was the runner-up in the sixth season of the show, losing to Jordin Sparks. I actually watched most of this season because I was dating my rat-turd ex at the time and he was an Idoloonie. I remember not liking Blake much during the competition. His ridiculous beat-boxing made me uncomfortable.

He lost and I figured I’d never think of him again. That is, until I stumbled upon his gem of a single “How Many Words”. It was slinky, electro-pop candy and I gobbled it up. It was featured on his first CD Audio Day Dream, which came and went with little fanfare. I didn’t like the whole album much, but this song stuck in my craw. I couldn’t get enough.

I didn’t think I’d hear much more from Blake again, after reports of Arista dumping him from the label after the album failed. But Tommy Boy Records saved the day and Blake released his second, and far-superior, album, Heartbreak on Vinyl, through them in October of last year. The album is like “How Many Words” x100, with some extra funk thrown in. If you like your music to be sexy, sugary, weird, and electric, look no further. The whole album is one big, unpretentious dance party waiting to happen.

No, this isn’t indie-hipster cool kid’s music, but it’s simply good. Next week, I’ll tell you all about some weird Scandinavian girl group who shriek and play pickle jars and how they’re the second coming of Christ, in effort to regain my cred. But, for now, just have fun.

Below I’ve attached “How Many Words” and my favorite track off the second album, “Left My Baby For You.” Enjoy.

I want to lick your openly-gay face, Mr. Martin. Come over, now.

Boy, was this an interesting piece of news to read today. Only three weeks ago, I was on here blathering about Ricky Martin’s forgotten career and his suspected homosexuality and then, as if I willed the universe to make him somewhat relevant again, he admits his truth.

This announcement is not surprising or timely. But does that really matter? In a surprisingly touching open letter on his website, the Livin La Vida Loca singer touched on his long-standing desire to truthfully represent himself and briefly mentioned the many discussions he had with those in his life who suggested he not, as he stood to lose much if he did. And then, after much meandering, he finally, sweetly, powerfully, succinctly states: “I am proud to say that I am a fortunate homosexual man. I am very blessed to be who I am.”

That’s it. Simple.

But, with it, immediately comes the snark. An account I follow on Twitter, using the handle gaycivilrights, quickly had two things to say. First: “Ricky Martin Comes Out: ‘I Am Homosexual.’ In Other News, The Earth is Round” and second: “Ricky Martin says he’s gay. Do you applaud him for coming out or wish he had come out earlier?” Several personal acquaintances of mine on Facebook, all gay, echoed each other with snide remarks regarding the announcement, each with the sentiment that he took too long.

And I find myself asking why? Why is this where we immediately go? Do we really want to be the community that treats each other with such derision? Here we have a man who, clearly, must have been struggling with this decision for some time. I remember how I struggled with my decision to come out. It took me about three years and I hardly stood to lose anything. What was the worst that would happen to me? My parents would cry? This is a man who had a career, and a lot of money, to consider. And it’s unfair to blame him for being afraid to admit this terrifying truth to a professional community and a society at large that aren’t so welcoming of our kind.

Is it Ricky Martin’s fault that half the world really, truly hates gays? Simply, no. Until the atmosphere around, and opportunities for, openly gay entertainers improve, it’s understandable for people like Martin to be apprehensive.

But what isn’t understandable, what’s downright reprehensible, is for his display of courage to be mocked by the very people who know what he’s going through and who’ve been in his shoes. A person’s coming-out is their own private journey. Who’s place is it to decide when a person should be ready to open themselves up in the most naked way imaginable? We should be applauding his courage, not chiding his timing. He’s one of us, let’s have his back.

So, Ricky, welcome to the family, officially. Now, where can I send you my number? I’m ready for that date I’ve been dreaming about since seventh grade.

Hello my sweetest nibblets! We missed you all so very much this weekend, but now we are back with the first Viral Vision of this new and glorious week. Up tonight is one of those videos I’ve known about for a few years and like to keep stored in my little lock box of ‘what the balls?’ gifts to bestow upon the unsuspecting public. It’s a music video from LA based band Mynx for their HIT SONG Dollar 99 Wine. Yes, that’s really what it’s called. And yes, it’s just as fantastic as it sounds.

Sweet No-body-Should-Have-Made-This-Movie

It’s Friday night here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. so that means another glorious installment of Fresh Look Friday where we here at 3FING3RS take another look at the garbage pail movies of the days of yore and let you know whether or not they’re worth giving a second chance. Up tonight on the chopping block is the 2001 movie Sweet November starring Keanu Reeves and Charlize Theron. In this modern masterpiece, Charlize plays Sara, a quirky, free spirited bohemian soul in San Francisco, and Keanu is Nelson, some high powered ad exec on the top of his game, livin’ life in the fast lane. Tell me: how much did you hate reading that sentence? How insulted did you feel by the time you got to the period? As your eyes danced over the words “bohemian” and “high powered” and “livin'” with its dropped G, how much did you suddenly find yourself loathing me for subjecting you to such lame ass cliches? I’d like for you to multiply that feeling by 13 billion and  you will have some vague idea of how I felt sitting in my living room watching this movie.

As anyone who knows me will tell you, in addition to having a deep appreciation for films where shit gets blown up (i.e. anything with Michael Bay’s name attached to it), I also love a good romance. If you were to come over to my house and look at my DVD collection right now, you would see a that right next to my copy of Die Hard is the VERY DELIGHTFUL AND NOT AT ALL EMBARRASSING Notting Hill. I am a lady who enjoys punching the air when Hans Gruber shoots that dude in the face (seriously awesome) as well as one who cries like a baby when Julia Roberts tells Hugh Grant that she’s “just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.” Is that line a bunch of dicks in a blender? Absolutely. But the sincerity in its execution makes it work. I am not bothered by cliched, recycled storylines when it comes to romance movies, because part of what makes them so enjoyable is knowing exactly what it is you’re going to get. So what is it about Sweet November that literally had me wishing I was gargling hobo toenails rather than watching that gob-awful movie?

Let’s start first with the story. Sara is some hot hippie who wears pajama pants instead of regular pants and eats vegan sausage. She has made it her life’s mission to “fix” the men of San Francisco by making them realize how much more meaningful it is to eat ice cream sundaes and do cartwheels on the beach instead of have a real job and, you know, a purpose. Nelson is, naturally, her polar opposite in that he drinks a lot of coffee and drives a Jaguar and  is always screaming into his cell phone about affiliates and demographics and all those other things advertising executives like to yell about. After meeting at the DMV Sara decides she is going to make Nelson her “November.” You see, Sara limits herself to one month with these men she is so graciously saving, saying “it’s long enough to be meaningful and short enough to stay out of trouble.” After a month she kicks them out, unemployed and dumped, but with a new lease on life because Sara has opened their eyes to the wonders of wearing used clothing and eating cous cous.

OH YEAH. Also, Sara is dying. Of what, we never have any idea, except that it involves her getting headaches every time she doesn’t want to discuss something and having enough pill bottles in her medicine cabinet to medicate every single living person on the planet for the rest of their lives. I don’t know what I hate more; Sara’s mind blowing conceit that she thinks just because she has hot-lady death syndrome that she has all the answers and has the right to tell other people how to live their lives, or that this conceit is meant to be passed off as romance to the movie going masses.

The acting is truly terrible. I will make the concession that it’s pretty difficult to act well when you’re given such a mind numbingly awful script, but remember how Charlize Theron has an Oscar? I really think she’s a great actress, but she definitely doesn’t let anybody know about it in most of her films. Keanu Reeves is just Keanu Reeves. I think the forced, stiff delivery he is so famous for is actually pretty well designed for comedy, but in a weepy melodrama it’s honestly just embarrassing to watch him.

The only thing I actually enjoyed about this piece of dogmeat was sitting with my roommate Lance and identifying all of the San Francisco neighborhoods the movie is filmed in. FUN FACT! The park where the last scene takes place is actually up the street from our apartment. It is a place famous for the fact that it gets overrun by hipsters drinking tall cans of PBR out of paper bags at 1 in the afternoon, so it was amusing to see it as some romantic backdrop symbolizing lost love or endless possibilities or whatever the hell. If you do decide to give this movie a Fresh Look, make sure to notice the little white building alone in the grass; that’s the exact location where some dude wearing a pair of pants made out of garbage bags offered to sell me weed and then when I declined called me a “butt burglar” If that doesn’t scream romance, I don’t know what does.

So, I was at a game night a couple of weeks ago, in which my friend Corey introduced me to Leslie Kritzer. Apparently, in New York, she’s pretty popular in the cabaret scene, or something. Anyway, doesn’t matter. She composed this reel as an audition tape for SNL. It’s a little dated, as evidenced by the topic of the 2008 presidential election, but that doesn’t stop it from being funny as hell.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a better Liza impression. I mean, seriously, spot on. And her Riff-Tina character is pretty funny too. Take a look.

Oh, and, enjoy your weekend, nerds. Have a shot or ten for me!

Alright puppies, it’s late, I’m sleepy, and I’ve got an early meeting in the morning. So, like Liz Lemon bellows in Pete’s Ken-mare: Let’s do this.

The Top Lines:

I met him on KDate, the personals section of the Kraft Foods website. – Liz, describing her date to Jenna

It’s just an honor to be nominated in the same category as Sir Dave Coulier. – Danny, on his Juno nomination

No, no goatee, just chola eyebrows. – Floyd, who hasn’t changed much

I get all my news from Dick Cheney’s website, – Jack

I never said that Liz banged her way to the middle… – Danny, reacting to the story Frank, Lutz, and Twofer planted in the NYT

He didn’t speak a word of English, like all Dartmouth men. – Jack, about the real-life Indian mascot he sent to Mexico City

If my grandpa hadn’t gotten on that train that day, he never would have met his wife…’s murderer. – Kenneth

They’re Boston Irish Catholic, they mate for life, like swans. Like drunk, angry swans. – Jack

So much of my life I’ve wasted putting things on hats! – Frank, during Jack and Danny’s prank

I was in a re-enactment on America’s Most Wanted once, playing a lady strangled on the toilet. – Liz, attempting to compete with Floyd’s fiancee

Wait a minute! All my teeth are loose, so we’re good, it’s real. – Tracy’s litmus test for reality versus dreamscape

You want to squeeze in one last ride at Six Floyd’s Amusement Park? – Floyd, drunk off salmon

How are you still single Liz? There’s so many guys out there that want to be poisoned and yelled at. – Floyd, who got sober for a reason

Unbelievable. It’s way too early for this, guys. I haven’t even had my first cup of wine today. – Pete, always tasked with babysitting Tracy and Jenna

So go, get married, love each other, and if you go on a cruise for your honeymoon, may it be free of pirates. Outie5000. – Liz, with what is,perhaps, the best line to give away your true love, ever

Anything else you LOL’d at that I neglected to print? Sound off, below!