So I get the enviable job of deciding just how Sybil is going to entertain herself during her furlough.

And what a job. There have been some great suggestions. Everything from heavy drinking to adopting livestock.And I’m loknig forward to see what is suggested in subsequent week. But this week’s challenge will be:

I dare you to live on the roof of my building for a weekend. Friday night to Sunday mid day.

1655 Union Street
Brooklyn, NY 11213

You must stay on the roof rain or shine. (I will give you 10 bathroom passes for 10 minutes each, no showering or brushing)

Of course, the best part of my job is tweaking things. You must also live in the roof for the weekend with Brian, and this must take place in the next couple weekends. Subsequent dares will be solicited in the meanwhile, so get back on it kids!

–Judge Justin.

Shibow goes to Trapeze School, 08/08/08

Forgive the groan-inducing title, but I had to find a way to work it in, if just to prove I have a sense of humor about the many, many MANY ways my name has been misused (Sybil Rights, Sybil Law, Simba, Nipple– yes, nipple).

Having given my current place of employment notice that I am leaving in order to pursue a Master’s degree in an unrelated field (the vagueness is intentional, and may or may not be explained at some point sometime perhaps), I realize that I will, for a few months at least, have quite a bit of time on my hands. Instead of doing something productive with myself, I’ve decided to essentially place my fate in the capable (right?) hands of you readers.

I was going to attempt to sell this as me trying to “find myself,” but honey, this ain’t Lifetime, and there are no mountains to be found in Da Hurst. Here’s the basic idea: you dare me to do something, and I do it. That’s it.

Well, that’s not it. There are some caveats, if only because I know that if there weren’t any conditions, some of my more insane acquaintances would have me whoring myself out to high-ranking political officials or licking subway cars (the latter is a genuine suggestion I received from my best friend. I really know how to pick ‘em).

The rules are as follows:

1. The dare cannot be illegal (i.e. whoring oneself out to a high-ranking official).

2. You cannot dare me to do something that will kill me. Well, I mean, you can. I just probably won’t go through with it.

3. I am cheap and poor. Plan accordingly.

Lastly, to make this fair– and to keep me from punking out– I’ve appointed Justin the dare judge, or Dare Judge (to make it official). All suggestions will go through him. God help us all.

To start daring, post your suggestion below, along with your name and any additional information you’d like to offer. Each week, beginning with the first week in June, I’ll take a Justin-sanctioned dare, run with it, and post my experiences for all to see and laugh at. So make ‘em legal, and make ‘em good kids!

And if you did, great. But this has nothing to do with your bone density or overall health, though I’m always glad to hear when others are in good spirits…except when I’m not glad to hear anything. Anysegue, Vitamin Tramp is a Texas-based band fronted by Ralph Thompson and Dave Novak. Band members include Ralph Thompson and Dave Novak, who are supported by members Dave Novak and Ralph Thompson. Pay attention kids: this information will come in handy later on in the show.

Before I continue, I need to admit that I’ve met Dave before. He’s a good friend of Justin’s whom I met once last summer. It was a great night that began at St. Andrew’s (with me proudly ordering a beer by announcing my first-ever “I’ll have what he’s having”) and ended at a sort of shady little karaoke joint (where both Justin and Dave earned even more of my respect by backing me up as I rocked “Gold Digger”). That said, I was really nervous to write this review, for various reasons, including: a. Dave is a really nice guy who backed me up on a Kanye West song, b. It’s difficult for me to in any way criticize someone who has put forth the effort recording an album– in this case, a double album– requires and c. I’m not very good at reviewing stuff. So yeah, there be the caveats, now here be the reviews!

As I mentioned, I was given two very different albums. The first, Since Pflugerville, has a much more mellow, acoustic feel than its counterpart, the electronically-charged Robot Exoskeleton. I’ll start with the former, so as not to confuse anyone. Also, I’ll step up and admit that this was definitely my favorite of the two albums, mostly because I found it easier to pay attention to each sound being delivered, as it seemed to be a much rawer, more stripped- down effort.

The first track on Pflugerville is “Ralph’s Voice Mail,” which is basically just a really clever intro to Track 2, “The Vitamin Tramp Theme Song.” The opening track is a voice mail message sent from one band member to the other, pitching a theme song in which the two sell themselves as “the best damn band.” I’m sold, immediately, on this one, if just because of the self-awareness the band seems to have right off the bat. They follow “the best rock band is Vitamin Tramp,” with “look who’s on the cover of Rolling Stone/it ain’t us.” This self-deprecation permeates, pretty cleverly, this album, and lends to the band’s charm. Also earning brownie points from Shibow is “Will it Be the Same, ” an amusing ditty featuring south-of-the-border-type guitar work that questions what it will be like to trade in an old car/girlfriend/job for a new one. I have to stress how much I appreciate a band that doesn’t take itself too seriously, that seems to play with otherwise serious issues (relationships, career changes, etc.) and take them in stride.

The playfulness is momentarily halted for “Alia,” which I sort of thought was about me since it described its title character as a “princess of some Middle Eastern nation” (ok, I’m not Middle Eastern, but whatever, I played along for a second). Then I got over myself and actually dug this one, despite the fact that I felt the transition between this song and the last a bit jarring. The song, about a worldly, exotic woman seen from an outsider’s perspective, comes with an intriguing thought: what’s it like to be an “other,” and is it possible to really live the “middle class dream”?

The band returns to form with “Solo Self-Titled Debut,” a song in which the band basically breaks down the fourth wall between artist and audience, even outright-ly asking “how do you like my solo self-titled debut,” boldly asking a question many other bands want to, but just self-consciously won’t. The fact that its chorus is basically a series of “la la’s” only highlights how ridiculously scared some bands are of lightening up.

The band is at its strongest when it plays with the idea of what it means to grow up and out of old habits. Vitamin Tramp draws a fine balance between mischief and genuineness, especially in tracks that deal with the issues that come with age . The relationship-related songs, like “Whatever You Hide,” didn’t cut as deep for me as the ones about maturity, and the transition from youth to adulthood, like “Goodbye Sunrise.” This, for me, was about saying goodbye to beginnings, which is a pretty clever and layered concept to consider. It’s a perfect, summery song, and even made me nostalgic (for what, I’m not sure, as last summer wasn’t really one for the books).

Another standout for me was “The New Me,” a menacing three minutes that opens with someone clearling his throat and possibly hocking a loogie (bold!). It’s filled with a fun clap-along beat and funky, blues-y piano supporting a warning of “you’re not gonna like the new me.” It also includes one of the strongest lines on either album, “I just need some way to cope with this intense loss of all hope,” and reminded me quite a bit of one of my favorite quirky artists, Ed Harcourt.

The previous song was definitely in the running to become my favorite Vitamin Tramp song, until it was beaten by the On-the-Go-Playlist must “Through With You.” This creative, paradoxically modern throwback to 20’s speakeasies and swingin’ gangsters (shut up, sometimes I can get really stereotypical, ok?) is the band and its best, and is hands-down the most entertaining track on the album. It’s fun, breezy and includes three vital ingredients to a good song: horns, fabulous background vocals and the word “skank.” Stick a sign on my lawn, because I am sold.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’m listening to 2-3 different bands. Perhaps the band is still finding its footing, or perhaps it is just incredibly playful. Either way, the range in sound speaks to its versatility, which is pretty impressive.

The final highlight for me was “Useful,” the conclusion to this album. It’s just as upbeat and sunny as the album’s opener, reading more like a classified ad than a song, and this is definitely the type of duo that can sell itself.

So now let’s move on to Robot Exoskeleton, which, as I mentioned before, has a feel completely different from that of its partner album. Opener “Closeup” immediately announces this album as loud, and certainly more electronically based than Pflugerville. There is, still, much of the other album’s energy (and, at times, much more), especially on tracks like “My Smile is a Mile Wide,” with pumping percussion and vocals. At this point, I have to pause: two dudes are making all of this noise? The album, is some ways, reminds me of early 90’s favorites like the Spin Doctors and Deep Blue Something. Its unapologetic in its straightforwardness, which– especially in today’s self conscious “rock star” climate– I completely appreciate.

While I don’t consider discussions on relationships to be the band’s best angle, I did take interest in “Different,” a song about questioning a relationship’s validity at its end. It hit home for me, especially with lines like “did we make the right decisions/when we told each other lies.” It’s human nature to backtrack and try to figure out what could have been done differently, and the band tackles the subject nicely.

I wasn’t a huge fan of “Daughter of My Boss,” mainly because it seems like I topic that’s been done before (in an Ashton Kutcher movie, no less), so I moved on to the hilarious “Jenny Talbot.” The line “Jenny Talbot/ just reach out and grab it,” was enough to have me do a spit take that–thankfully– occurred in the privacy of my room.

“She’s So Mod” appears to be the female answer to Arctic Monkeys’ “Brianstorm.” She’s modern, she’s trendy, [she annoys me to no end when the corner of her ugly Marc by Marc for Marc in Marc over Marc with Marc Jacobs bag repeatedly pokes me in the shoulder] and she’s a complete narcissist. Really, who wouldn’t want her?

Another big track for me was the incredibly dark “I Need a Contact,” a desperate song that repeatedly, distortedly wails that “this is an emergency.” Definitely the most serious song on either album, this one took me by surprise.

My last favorite was “Why Can’t We Wait,” a rockin’ song about summer romance that, somehow, had a Grease feeling to it. This is what I truly like about the band: every subject is tackled with heart, and, pretty importantly, fun.

Vitamin Tramp doesn’t want to be on the cover of Rolling Stone. Ok, maybe they do. Hell, I do. Really, though, the band isn’t trying to please you, or me, or anyone but themselves for that matter. I think that’s part of its appeal, especially in an era in music where if we don’t like you, we’re not supposed to like your music. By essentially opening themselves up, admitting that they aren’t hanging with “Puffy Combs” they make themselves more likeable. I love a band that can make fun of itself while still getting its point across. Vitamin Tramp, you got my stamp.

I’d just like to conclude by saying that if that last sentence didn’t convince you that I shouldn’t be writing music reviews, nothing will. Seriously, even I found that cheesy. In the purest way I can, I am asking you to check this band out, plain and simple.

Visit Vitamin Tramp on Myspace, or preview Since Pflugerville and Robot Exoskeleton on iTunes below:

Robot Exoskeleton

Since Pflugerville

Now, there are several reasons I should be writing an article about keeping one’s wallet (somewhat) filled and one’s sanity (mostly, at least when it comes to one’s wallet) intact. The first: I’ve recently graduated and moved into an apartment that I share with a college friend, and I am, for lack of a better term, totally poor, man. I’ll admit it freely: I’ve got no dough. (Ed. Note: Shibow’s AAVR earnings must be going up her nose) The second: frugality runs through my veins, along with equal parts blood and Johnnie Walker Black Label (It’s genetics. Science. It’s complicated.) And the third, and possibly most offensive: it is the way of my people. If you’ve never seen Indian-Canadian comedian Russell Peters’ routine on the extent of my people’s penchant for stinginess, please watch it below. I almost hate to say it, but he is absolutely and completely right.

I actually have been known to complain about the insane prices on some items of clothing, and have also been known to claim that I could make pieces identical to these items of clothing. This is not true, but it is what I tell myself in order to keep from buying the unnecessary. Consider that cheap trick numero uno.

I’m sure I’m not the only cheap-o out there, but perhaps I’m one of the only ones out there willing to admit to my thriftiness. If nothing else, I hope the following tips will encourage my fellow penny-scrapers to stand proud.

Buy a re-usable water bottle. Refill said water bottle. If you work in an office setting, you most certainly have a water cooler. Use it. Use it for something other than discussing last night’s Project Runway (Side bar: Are you as excited as I am for its return?). Plus, as water is nature’s cleanser, you’ll start to see physical benefits as well. A proven antioxidant, enough water can keep you hydrated and help keep your skin clear. Lastly, drinking H2O regularly can keep you from reaching for the Fritos in the vending machine when you think you’re hungry but really aren’t (trust me, it happens).

Steal stuff. Yeah, I went there. And no, this is not me encouraging you to break the law. But let’s examine a common practice amongst, well, all of us. We take too flipping much. We take too flipping much of things we sometimes never use. How often do you find yourself at a food court/restaurant of some sort, with a tray full of unused napkins, packets of ketchup and mustard, etc. that you end up trashing at lunch break’s end? No, children, no. If you’re OCD and able to measure out exactly how much of the aforementioned you need, kudos. The rest of us should just pocket what we don’t end up using. I’ve recently taken up the practice of throwing the extra packets of honey I don’t use from a local coffee shop (Honey! People throw away honey! That stuff is gold!) into my bag after my afternoon tea for my evening tea (Yes, I am an Indian who enjoys her tea. No subverting of stereotypes here.) Ain’t no shame in that. Fortunate, considering I myself have very little shame.

Pack your own lunch. You might get looks. I get looks. Then again, sometimes my idea of lunch is identical to that of an eight year-old who is convinced she can fend for herself. In any case, it keeps me full, prevents me from spending greenbacks on grub from the outside, and from my stinginess sending me in the direction of fast food and the subsequent heart failure that comes with it.

For Shibow’s sake, clip coupons. Until The Man decides to stop sending you a mailbox’s worth of circulars, it’s up to you to see that the coupons within them are put to good use. I’m currently on a cereal kick, which I blame on never having dormed as a college student. Late blooming and all that. Anyway, I’ve been clipping Honey Bunches of Oats coupons like mad as of late, and recently paid $1.99 for a box that normally costs around four bucks. I don’t think I can quite articulate my deep affection for said cereal, and even if I could, I’m sure I’ve sufficiently embarrassed myself in this tip already. Anyway, coupons, people!

Order wisely, grasshopper. Meaning order an appetizer if you know you’ve got a small stomach. Order one or two entrees that you and your dining companion(s) can share (and share the cost of). Or, if you’ve got a heaping plate all to yourself that you know you won’t finish, take it to go, and you’re set for tomorrow’s lunch or dinner.

Unplug that which has been plugged. I believe Justin mentioned this in his piece on going green. Yes, this is the environmentally sound thing to do. It is also the financially responsible thing to do. Unplug appliances around the house that you don’t use constantly, and you could see your electricity bills shrink by a third or more. Money in the bank, homeslice!

Now, I’d like to conclude this piece with a short, but important note. There is a method to my madness, at least when it comes to money. My other neuroses, for the most part, have yet to be fully explained. I do not believe in saving one’s money in order to use it to line one’s coffin at one’s passing. There really is no point in hoarding your dough and never spending it. Take a vacation. Buy an expensive item of clothing once in a while (Though always keep in mind the division rule: divide the cost of the item by the number of times you will wear it, in order to figure out what you’re really spending in the long run.). Treat yourself, and enjoy the benefits of being smart with your money.

For further reading, AAVR also recommends the excellent personal finance blog Get Rich Slowly