IS IT HONEY? IS IT COLD?

It's getting to that time of year again - the time of wheat/chaff separation in every sense of the metaphor. All the NY transplants start filtering out and us natives are left to play with one another (with the help of some Brit imports, of course) (and oh yes, Ollie Stone). The key phrase is "getting to," though, for at the moment we're knee-deep in office holiday party season.

Sarah had hers last week, and as was to be expected, it kicked off a night of questionable decision making. I wasn't sure I was gonna be able to make it at first. The rain/wind was b-a-n-a-nanners and an old Agency co-worker was due to pick me up for their party just after Sarah's start time. Thanks to a little bullying from the big PA, I went anyway. Good thing? Good thing. I don't even know what I drank, but it had "basil" and "martini" in the title. I think. PA and his buddy and I got into an extensive talk about Scotland (go figure) which I promptly redirected to the subject of Duran Duran. You see, D-squared played Atlantic City this past Saturday night, and anyone who spoke to me this summer knows I love me some D-squared (the band, not the label). Particularly when it comes with the promise of an appearance by my future ex-boyfriend (read this blog, you'll know who I mean). I mean come on - Duran Duran, Atlantic City, and a stud with anger-management issues? It was heaven on paper. Unfortunately, said paper wasn't made of gold dubloons and thus I realized it was in my best interest not to make the trip. Sad. Hopefully PA shouted something inappropriate at Le Bon on my behalf. Preferably during Planet Earth.

Saturday wasn't a lost cause though. Brunch Crue was in effect, though our half of the table shamefully allowed conversation to deteriorate into definition of internet terms. And I'm not talking "LOL" and "WTF." We actually pop-quizzed on the meanings of FTP... HTML... and HTTP. (I lost all cred when declaring the latter stands for "hot-t-t poo"). Guys, its now getting super sad. After brunch, Gurj and Quinn and I decided to go movie hunting. There are about four decent theaters in a five block radius in our hood, so we did a lil lap. And somehow, inexplicably, landed on seeing The Alphabet Killer. Starring none other than the Barnard crew's favorite nemesis - Eliza Dushku. And it should be noted that the queen of the crooked look is an associate producer of said flick. How to explain the injustice without spoiling the plot? (HA!) Let's just say the big selling point (both in reviews and from the guy in the ticket booth) is the flashing of Dushku's tit. Which is essentially a non-event. A blink and you miss it moment. DAMNUDUSHKU. Now all I need to see is a space odyssey starring Leelee Sobieski and my mind will be fully blown back to college daze.

Another thing about this time of year is that it brings my oldest niece's birthday. With the advent of Facebook and Myspace, I've gotten to know her a lot better. She's a total music chick and I love it. See, our family couldn't be any further from the music world. When I was a kid, car trips were soundtracked with showtunes and Israeli folk singers. The one exception was this tape my mom had called The Best of '60s Mellow which I ended up replacing out of personal necessity when the original was stolen (ah, 1990s car thefts. Wherefore art thou NYC?). Anyway, point is, I never had the luxury of parents or older siblings to teach me about good music. And lord knows NY radio left a lot to be desired (which would explain my early love of say, Counting Crows and Bush). Last year, I noticed my nieces talking about bands, non-stop. They love music, going to gigs, updating their Facebook statuses with lyrics. Unfortunately, their love is being directed by the current state of affairs on music television. As in, taste level is pretty crap. And I made a point of telling them so. Subsequently, I decided to make it a mission to teach them about better music - both past and present.

It started on last year's birthday. The oldest turned 17. I bought her Depeche Mode's greatest hits, Pixies greatest hits, and The Bends, then made an Idlewild mix and a collection of my (then) favorite bands (think Interpol, Bloc Party, We Are Scientists, the Cure, the Smiths, Hole). My intention was to show her what inspired her favorite artists. Great success, her taste started shifting, but now I'm faced with the bigger challenge. She just turned 18. And she's going to college next year. What's the next logical music step? I'm working on two mixes - one of past greats and one of present. I will update ASAP with the tracklistings, but for now, suggestions are much appreciated.

Because here's the dilemma. Do I train her for indie nerd triathalon and include shit like Built to Spill and Pavement? Or do I stick to what I think is more suited to her current tastes, like Bowie, Joy Division and Nine Inch Nails? And like, where do bands like The Clash or Faith No More and Alice in Chains fit in? Is an 18 year old girl from the tri-state area ready for them? Decisions, decisions....