Lollapalooza weekend: Follow me as I check out "new" bands, Gaga crowd surfs, I take advantage of my newfound VIP status, and people keep stealing my chair.

Before you go party hard tonight, watch Party Down: Starz's satiric telling of the harsher side of following your dreams. 

"So... All of time and space, everything that ever happened or ever will: Where do you want to start?"

All this New Moon excitement, and post GGOM3 disappointment, has made me think about all the most epic of epic-est love triangles ever.

As an important disclaiming factoid about moi: My older brother, as we crossed paths on his way out of town for Thanksgiving and my way in, reminded me that even though I’m the one who talked him out of ever seeing Twlight, my need to incessantly mock it makes me just as bad as all the crazy McStalker Moms out there who love that shit. Which… is actually a really fair point.

Darling, darling, reader people:

I have been a lazy, lazy bum. I know that seems counterintuitive, or at least extraordinarily lazy, since this blog’s very existence seems to chronicle my very lazyness as well as my lovely posting compatriots. After all, to watch a lot of the TV, you have to spend a lot of time, sitting on your ass and doing nothing.

Eastwick, or as Rabia, calls, it, the Twitchie show. Even though there’s no Previously On, I just wanted to say that I’m surprised that ABC is trying to remake The Witches of Eastwick, even though multiple previous attempts have failed. Regardless, I actually find it kind of fun and whimsical, even if the characters are all such cardboard cutouts that I can’t ever remember their names.

Showtime really messed up the other day, for which I am ecstatically grateful: when my roommates and I went to watch our On Demand, ready-for-viewing copy of the Californication premiere, there was not one but two episodes of Californication in my On Demand box. Two. As in: the premiere and next week’s, not aired yet episode.

If you’ve read my stuff before, you know I tend to comment on the lighter side of things. You know: theatre, music, cleavage, television, the occasional Ugg boot … It’s rare that I find something disturbing enough to change my tone, especially when I’m at the freakin’ gym, running in place like a gerbil. But when I do, the serious comes out.

Hey y’all, how’ve you been? We’ve missed you.

Welcome to The Sun’s Arts and Entertainment Blog, which we have oh-so-cleverly titled (f)Artsy, because of both (what we hope is) our healthy ability to laugh at our own pretensions (listen to us, telling you what you should and shouldn’t like in the art/entertainment world!), and our humor that resembles that of pre-adolescent boys, which makes farting is funny.