I love those TV shows like “How It’s Made” that show you . . . well, how things are made. It’s seriously fascinating to me to watch the big machines make things like DVD players or tea bags or barbed wire. I can even remember being a kid and being obsessed with the episode of “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” where they go to the crayon factory. My mind can’t even begin to work with the type of efficiency necessary to put a process like that together. I can only imagine the utter clusterfuck I would create if left with the job of creating an assembly line for a product. It would’ve taken 64 years to make one box of those 64 Crayola colors.
Something I have noticed is that there is one thing we never see how to make – machines that make other things. What type of machine makes the machines that make plungers and votive candles? How do you put together a machine that will in turn put the plastic on the end of shoelaces?
Knowing how things are made just makes me more curious as to how things were invented. That’s a show that should air with “How It’s Made” – first we learn why it’s made, then we learn how. There are so many products on the market for which I would love to track down the inventor and ask, simply, what the hell they were thinking. It’s one thing to invent something that society genuinely has a need for, like a crowbar or peanut butter. But what I’m really, curious about are the random, seemingly useless things that came out of nowhere.
Take, for example, clamato juice. Who in Christ’s name took a sip of tomato juice, and thought “Hmmm . . . you know what this needs? Clams.” Or, on the other side, who partook in a lovely evening at a clam bake, and turned to his friend and said “You know what . . . we could totally juice these.” It doesn’t even begin to make sense to me, and I’d love to know just what the hell somebody was thinking when they put clams and tomatoes together into a juice.
Another things that incites mad curiosity is thong underwear. Yeah, I know, we’ve heard countless standup comedians talk about how it’s a torture device created by man for women in the same vein as high heeled shoes and tweezers. But really though, think about it. Who decided panty lines were unseemly? We all know that everybody else is wearing underwear. At least, we hope so. So catching a glimpse of a slight bump on your skirt shouldn’t come as a shock. I should think it would be the other way around – a smooth skirt with no lines would actually lead you to believe somebody is not wearing underwear, and that’s the shameful surprise. How is that classy? Breezy, maybe, but classy, not so much.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: the SAG awards. Don’t judge, and I won’t put you through another 38 page review of an awards show. Deal? Deal.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Armed to the Tentacles
Yesterday my middle sister called me, and instead of hearing her voice on the line when I answered, I heard a bunch of screeching static noises. I hung up, and assumed I’d been ass-dialed. But she called back almost immediately, and the following conversation took place:
Me: Are you being molested by a robot?
Megan (simultaneously with my previous question): Are you being kidnapped by an alien octopus?
Megan: So you heard the same noises I did?
Me: Yeah . . . wait . . . what? An octopus?
Megan: Yeah. It sounded like tentacles.
Me: Oh. Um . . . what do tentacles sound like?
Megan: You know. Sucky.
Me: Right. And you weren’t being molested by a robot then?
Megan: Heh. No.
This conversation tells you 2 things about me: I possess a wild, ridiculous imagination (as does my sister), and I assume terrible things are happening.
I come by the fear of terrible things naturally. As far back as I can remember, my mother has been absolutely convinced that I will certainly die at the hands of a modern day Ted Bundy. She continuously warns me that my behaviors will lead me to be mass murdered (even after having it pointed out to her that it would be difficult to mass murder one person). So she really shouldn’t be so surprised by my insane paranoia. I’m always absolutely convinced that all people are out to get me, and that I’m basically just living my life in wait for my horrible fate at the hands of a serial killer. This is a bad trait to have when one also possesses a ridiculous imagination.
Take, for example this past summer, when I was living by myself at my cousin’s home in San Antonio. There was a constant stream of people on and off the property making improvements and cleaning up the land and stuff like that. I somehow became convinced after hearing a noise one night that one of the landscapers – who were all very nice during daylight hours, by the way – had gotten into the house one day, bypassed being seen or setting off the alarm, stolen the spare key, had a copy of the key made, replaced the original so no one would be suspicious, then used his new key to break into the house and kill me.
Clearly, logic played no role in this. I didn’t take into consideration the facts that I lived over the garage, and would certainly hear someone either open the garage to come after me, or set off the alarm in the house to go through the garage to get access to me. It made perfect sense that he would steal a key, and copy it, rather than just use the damn stolen key. Being a murderer, he already had low levels of social propriety, and probably wouldn’t have had any qualms about using stolen property. Nor did I consider that probably my murder is an insufficient reward for going through so much trouble and forethought as stealing a key, copying it, replacing it, and then coming back yet again to do the dirty deed. I still spent most of the night lying awake in wait for the coming attack, surrounded by whatever weapons I could get my hands on – kitchen knives, blunt objects, and hairspray. My only defense for this asinine behavior is that I was in the midst of studying for the bar exam, and my mental capacity was seriously damaged. A valid counter to that defense is that this was hardly the first time my paranoid imagination has gone from zero to CSI: Miami in less than a minute.
I carry two types of mace, a knife, and am getting my concealed handgun license in March. I have one handgun already, but as it is large and doesn’t have a safety, it remains in my bedside table, loaded with hollow point bullets, and I am in the market for one more appropriate for concealed purse carrying. Maybe once in my life have I ever been in a situation where there was arguably the slightest possibility that even being lightly armed was necessary – I’ve certainly never been in a position where Fort Knox levels of personal security is required. Still, though. I’m ready for that damned alien octopus if he does show up.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: Ru Paul's Drag Race!! Season 3 started on Monday. This is absolutely the most ridiculous, awful, and terrifying thing to ever be put on TV - and it is awesome. What's not to love about a competition between drag queens, hosted and judged by Ru, where the bottom two competitors each week have to "lip sync for their life"? Best. Trash. On TV. . . Ever.
Me: Are you being molested by a robot?
Megan (simultaneously with my previous question): Are you being kidnapped by an alien octopus?
Megan: So you heard the same noises I did?
Me: Yeah . . . wait . . . what? An octopus?
Megan: Yeah. It sounded like tentacles.
Me: Oh. Um . . . what do tentacles sound like?
Megan: You know. Sucky.
Me: Right. And you weren’t being molested by a robot then?
Megan: Heh. No.
This conversation tells you 2 things about me: I possess a wild, ridiculous imagination (as does my sister), and I assume terrible things are happening.
I come by the fear of terrible things naturally. As far back as I can remember, my mother has been absolutely convinced that I will certainly die at the hands of a modern day Ted Bundy. She continuously warns me that my behaviors will lead me to be mass murdered (even after having it pointed out to her that it would be difficult to mass murder one person). So she really shouldn’t be so surprised by my insane paranoia. I’m always absolutely convinced that all people are out to get me, and that I’m basically just living my life in wait for my horrible fate at the hands of a serial killer. This is a bad trait to have when one also possesses a ridiculous imagination.
Take, for example this past summer, when I was living by myself at my cousin’s home in San Antonio. There was a constant stream of people on and off the property making improvements and cleaning up the land and stuff like that. I somehow became convinced after hearing a noise one night that one of the landscapers – who were all very nice during daylight hours, by the way – had gotten into the house one day, bypassed being seen or setting off the alarm, stolen the spare key, had a copy of the key made, replaced the original so no one would be suspicious, then used his new key to break into the house and kill me.
Clearly, logic played no role in this. I didn’t take into consideration the facts that I lived over the garage, and would certainly hear someone either open the garage to come after me, or set off the alarm in the house to go through the garage to get access to me. It made perfect sense that he would steal a key, and copy it, rather than just use the damn stolen key. Being a murderer, he already had low levels of social propriety, and probably wouldn’t have had any qualms about using stolen property. Nor did I consider that probably my murder is an insufficient reward for going through so much trouble and forethought as stealing a key, copying it, replacing it, and then coming back yet again to do the dirty deed. I still spent most of the night lying awake in wait for the coming attack, surrounded by whatever weapons I could get my hands on – kitchen knives, blunt objects, and hairspray. My only defense for this asinine behavior is that I was in the midst of studying for the bar exam, and my mental capacity was seriously damaged. A valid counter to that defense is that this was hardly the first time my paranoid imagination has gone from zero to CSI: Miami in less than a minute.
I carry two types of mace, a knife, and am getting my concealed handgun license in March. I have one handgun already, but as it is large and doesn’t have a safety, it remains in my bedside table, loaded with hollow point bullets, and I am in the market for one more appropriate for concealed purse carrying. Maybe once in my life have I ever been in a situation where there was arguably the slightest possibility that even being lightly armed was necessary – I’ve certainly never been in a position where Fort Knox levels of personal security is required. Still, though. I’m ready for that damned alien octopus if he does show up.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: Ru Paul's Drag Race!! Season 3 started on Monday. This is absolutely the most ridiculous, awful, and terrifying thing to ever be put on TV - and it is awesome. What's not to love about a competition between drag queens, hosted and judged by Ru, where the bottom two competitors each week have to "lip sync for their life"? Best. Trash. On TV. . . Ever.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Things That Make Me Crazy - Part 2
Today, after my Regulation of Toxic Substances class ended at 1:15, I overheard bits and pieces of a conversation next to me as we all packed up to go. Someone asked the girl seated next to me if she wanted to go get lunch and she replied – I swear to Jesus – that she’d had some yogurt this morning before she went for her run at 8, so she wasn’t really hungry.
Dante didn’t create a level of hell deep enough for this girl.
She didn’t sit in the chair next to me, so much as she was perched, as she was wee and birdlike. I wanted to take her and shake her and yell that food is OK, but I was afraid I’d shake her little peanut head right off her Barbie-sized shoulders. I considered tripping her as she floated by, but again, I was afraid of breaking the glorified chopsticks she had the audacity to be walking around on like they were legitimate human legs. Chopsticks, mind you, that were clothed in leggings that had to have come from Gap Kids, as they don’t make that size for any self-respecting adults.
Look, I get it. Being overweight is something some people fear. I respect her for not wanting to be viewed as a storage unit for excess calories. But that’s just not human. It can’t be normal. What could cheeseburgers have possibly done to her for her to scorn them so? It’s possible to be healthy and still have something between your skin and skeleton.
And you know what, I’ll be honest. Part of me was a little crazy because of her desire to consume food in amounts doled out at internment camps, and because in light of her appearance, it seemed obsessive, unhealthy and unnecessary. And part of me was a little crazy because I, as a person who has struggled with weight issues for all of my adult life, can’t imagine reaching a point where I am so proficient in my willpower that a sad little cup of Yoplait can sustain me throughout a day to a point that I will gladly turn down an opportunity at another meal.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: THE STEELERS IN THE SUPERBOWL!! I’m glad that I had the presence of mind several years ago to realize that as a Dallas Cowboys fan, I would need a post-season backup, and that I chose Pittsburgh. Dallas needs to step it up next season though – I rather liked that they were the team with the most Superbowl appearances, and the win yesterday means the Steelers have tied them with 8.
Dante didn’t create a level of hell deep enough for this girl.
She didn’t sit in the chair next to me, so much as she was perched, as she was wee and birdlike. I wanted to take her and shake her and yell that food is OK, but I was afraid I’d shake her little peanut head right off her Barbie-sized shoulders. I considered tripping her as she floated by, but again, I was afraid of breaking the glorified chopsticks she had the audacity to be walking around on like they were legitimate human legs. Chopsticks, mind you, that were clothed in leggings that had to have come from Gap Kids, as they don’t make that size for any self-respecting adults.
Look, I get it. Being overweight is something some people fear. I respect her for not wanting to be viewed as a storage unit for excess calories. But that’s just not human. It can’t be normal. What could cheeseburgers have possibly done to her for her to scorn them so? It’s possible to be healthy and still have something between your skin and skeleton.
And you know what, I’ll be honest. Part of me was a little crazy because of her desire to consume food in amounts doled out at internment camps, and because in light of her appearance, it seemed obsessive, unhealthy and unnecessary. And part of me was a little crazy because I, as a person who has struggled with weight issues for all of my adult life, can’t imagine reaching a point where I am so proficient in my willpower that a sad little cup of Yoplait can sustain me throughout a day to a point that I will gladly turn down an opportunity at another meal.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: THE STEELERS IN THE SUPERBOWL!! I’m glad that I had the presence of mind several years ago to realize that as a Dallas Cowboys fan, I would need a post-season backup, and that I chose Pittsburgh. Dallas needs to step it up next season though – I rather liked that they were the team with the most Superbowl appearances, and the win yesterday means the Steelers have tied them with 8.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Over The Hill
Today would have been my dad’s 50th birthday. As many of my readers know, my dad died 2 years ago, on November 11th, 2008. If you didn’t know, and maybe even if you did, it is at this point that you have cocked your head to the side, much like my Yorkie does when she is confused by her humans, and have “awwww”ed at me and are feeling sorry. It’s quite alright folks, such a reaction is at this point unnecessary. No need to apologize, you didn’t do it.
As many of you also know, my dad wasn’t an ordinary guy, and so remembering him and his life shouldn’t be done in ordinary ways. We didn’t have a funeral, but more of a memorial service. My dad wasn’t a religious man – he preferred to either pray in the house that Tom Landry built or to the altar of Dale Earnhardt on Sundays, rather than go to a church. The only cross he cared about was putting the crosshairs on the neck of a whitetail. He had a simple belief that can’t always be taught by a priest – just be a good person. That was good enough for him, and it is good enough for me. So instead of a formal funeral, we just called all that knew him together to tell stories and sing a few songs, and remember the man he really was. Everybody wore camo clothes. Everybody, that is, except for dad’s cousin DW, who famously showed up in his best suit. Somehow, DW managed to miss the memo about wearing camo that the 600+ other attendees got. He was certainly the best dressed there, and will never live it down.
Anyway, dad was cremated, and his ashes scattered at my family’s ranch in front of his favorite hunting spot. The ranch was one of his favorite places. The box that had contained his ashes was buried at our camp site, along with a few photos and mementos. A cinder block, holding up a pole upon which an empty beer can had been hung upside down marked the spot. My mom and I recently had a slightly more permanent (but only marginally classier) marker made. It’s a round stepping stone, upon which a tile mosaic was done. It’s gray with blue tile. In the center is the Dallas Cowboys star, which on either side is flanked by the dates of his birth and death. Above the star is our ranch’s logo, and below are his initials. Around the edge, on the top and around the sides . . . is a line of beer can pull tabs. In other words, it's perfect. No ordinary man, no ordinary marker. Instead of following the typical, traditional routes, his memorial and burial were all done in a way I think he particularly would have appreciated.
The only beauty in these situations is that we are all already given the traits we need to deal with it in our own special fashions. For my family, it’s been done mostly through humor. Like, you know that old joke, “I’d rather be over the hill than buried under it”? You see where this is going, I won’t shock the conscience. The point is, we can laugh, talk, and make jokes about it, and that’s what helps us through. We may say things you think are shocking. You may be horrified by the things we think are funny. But that’s the point – it’s our loss, it’s our grief, and we deal with it in the best way we know how.
As many of you also know, my dad wasn’t an ordinary guy, and so remembering him and his life shouldn’t be done in ordinary ways. We didn’t have a funeral, but more of a memorial service. My dad wasn’t a religious man – he preferred to either pray in the house that Tom Landry built or to the altar of Dale Earnhardt on Sundays, rather than go to a church. The only cross he cared about was putting the crosshairs on the neck of a whitetail. He had a simple belief that can’t always be taught by a priest – just be a good person. That was good enough for him, and it is good enough for me. So instead of a formal funeral, we just called all that knew him together to tell stories and sing a few songs, and remember the man he really was. Everybody wore camo clothes. Everybody, that is, except for dad’s cousin DW, who famously showed up in his best suit. Somehow, DW managed to miss the memo about wearing camo that the 600+ other attendees got. He was certainly the best dressed there, and will never live it down.
Anyway, dad was cremated, and his ashes scattered at my family’s ranch in front of his favorite hunting spot. The ranch was one of his favorite places. The box that had contained his ashes was buried at our camp site, along with a few photos and mementos. A cinder block, holding up a pole upon which an empty beer can had been hung upside down marked the spot. My mom and I recently had a slightly more permanent (but only marginally classier) marker made. It’s a round stepping stone, upon which a tile mosaic was done. It’s gray with blue tile. In the center is the Dallas Cowboys star, which on either side is flanked by the dates of his birth and death. Above the star is our ranch’s logo, and below are his initials. Around the edge, on the top and around the sides . . . is a line of beer can pull tabs. In other words, it's perfect. No ordinary man, no ordinary marker. Instead of following the typical, traditional routes, his memorial and burial were all done in a way I think he particularly would have appreciated.
The only beauty in these situations is that we are all already given the traits we need to deal with it in our own special fashions. For my family, it’s been done mostly through humor. Like, you know that old joke, “I’d rather be over the hill than buried under it”? You see where this is going, I won’t shock the conscience. The point is, we can laugh, talk, and make jokes about it, and that’s what helps us through. We may say things you think are shocking. You may be horrified by the things we think are funny. But that’s the point – it’s our loss, it’s our grief, and we deal with it in the best way we know how.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Back To The Future
I consider a lot of odd things sometimes.
Stephen Colbert said something recently that made me both laugh and think. I don’t remember exactly how he worded it, but the sentiment is the same – what if, in millions of years, when whatever advanced society (or wasteland) that inhabits the earth excavates and finds remains of our society, they only find the fossil of Jay Leno?
The future excavators would think we were a society of persons with extraordinarily-sized chins. For some unknown reason this may be viewed as a beautiful or useful trait in a million years (perhaps we will be replaced by a superior race of rodents who will overpopulate the earth and need more facial food storage options), or they may laugh and say we look deformed as compared to their modern sense of normalcy. Either way it will totally skew the way they view the humans that were alive during the 21st century.
It makes me shudder to think what else might be mistakenly discovered. I don’t even mean that I worry about their discovery of our pollutant ways, or the killing off of animal species. What if great literature works, like those from Austen, Dickens, and the Brontes, are lost forever, and the first piece of writing found is something awful like Snooki’s recent release, or an unlicensed biography of Mel Gibson? What if wonderful, classic films and TV shows are lost, and they find reels of Girls Next Door, or the entire collection of Jenna Jameson’s pornography work? Masterpieces of modern technology could never be found, and Twinkies and the Slap-Chop could be found in their stead. It even applies to shorter passages of time – I mean, maybe the collective decade of the 80's would like to be known for more than hair bands and slap bracelets.
It also made me think, what are we wrong about? The early human Lucy, who was supposed to be such a magnificent, ground-breaking discovery – what if she was a horrific mutant of her race? Or what if she was just one of her race’s little people, or she had birth defects, or whatever. It’s possible that she really doesn’t tell us anything about mankind’s history.
Sure, I recognize that with everything in life, we take the good with the bad. But jeez, we are setting ourselves up to look like total morons. And, of course, this is all assuming that humans like ourselves won’t be populating the earth at this time, taking our history and technology with us. We could be killed off just like dinosaurs or whatever else, through disease or a meteor or an aerosol-caused hole in the ozone layer (look, when you find a pump hairspray that holds up big Miss Texas hair as well as aerosol, I will gladly switch. I use reusable shopping bags, I try not to use water bottles, and I recycle, so leave me alone). Even if mankind does persist, evolution will surely play its role. Natural selection will play a part, survival of the fittest and all. Although I think that means I have to eat people who think Jay Leno is funny.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: the Rock of Ages movie currently in the works. You guys, it's like this Broadway musical was written just for me - the soundtrack is nothing but classic 80's rock songs. I'm thrilled to death that it's being made into a movie. It's being done by Adam Shankman, who did Hairspray. Casting John Travolta aside, I thought he did a great job with that, so I'm looking forward to what he does here. I've been reading rumors that Tom Cruise is thisclose to being cast as aging 80's sex-god rocker Stacee Jaxx (ladies love him, guys want to be him, and his band hates him). I don't share the hatred of Tom Cruise many developed after the Oprah and Matt Lauer incidents, and I actually think he would be perfect for this skeevy asshole of a role. I just want to know if he can sing - Stacee's performances include Bon Jovi's "Wanted: Dead or Alive," "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner, and "Cum On Feel The Noize" by Quiet Riot. Shankman damn sure better not cut any of the music, that's what makes this show so brilliant. The only problem I have so far is that I've also seen rumors that Taylor Swift is being considered for the female lead, Sherrie. If that goes through, I will shank Shankman, I sweartogod. No way can she handle Sherrie's songs. Plus she's annoying as sin.
Stephen Colbert said something recently that made me both laugh and think. I don’t remember exactly how he worded it, but the sentiment is the same – what if, in millions of years, when whatever advanced society (or wasteland) that inhabits the earth excavates and finds remains of our society, they only find the fossil of Jay Leno?
The future excavators would think we were a society of persons with extraordinarily-sized chins. For some unknown reason this may be viewed as a beautiful or useful trait in a million years (perhaps we will be replaced by a superior race of rodents who will overpopulate the earth and need more facial food storage options), or they may laugh and say we look deformed as compared to their modern sense of normalcy. Either way it will totally skew the way they view the humans that were alive during the 21st century.
It makes me shudder to think what else might be mistakenly discovered. I don’t even mean that I worry about their discovery of our pollutant ways, or the killing off of animal species. What if great literature works, like those from Austen, Dickens, and the Brontes, are lost forever, and the first piece of writing found is something awful like Snooki’s recent release, or an unlicensed biography of Mel Gibson? What if wonderful, classic films and TV shows are lost, and they find reels of Girls Next Door, or the entire collection of Jenna Jameson’s pornography work? Masterpieces of modern technology could never be found, and Twinkies and the Slap-Chop could be found in their stead. It even applies to shorter passages of time – I mean, maybe the collective decade of the 80's would like to be known for more than hair bands and slap bracelets.
It also made me think, what are we wrong about? The early human Lucy, who was supposed to be such a magnificent, ground-breaking discovery – what if she was a horrific mutant of her race? Or what if she was just one of her race’s little people, or she had birth defects, or whatever. It’s possible that she really doesn’t tell us anything about mankind’s history.
Sure, I recognize that with everything in life, we take the good with the bad. But jeez, we are setting ourselves up to look like total morons. And, of course, this is all assuming that humans like ourselves won’t be populating the earth at this time, taking our history and technology with us. We could be killed off just like dinosaurs or whatever else, through disease or a meteor or an aerosol-caused hole in the ozone layer (look, when you find a pump hairspray that holds up big Miss Texas hair as well as aerosol, I will gladly switch. I use reusable shopping bags, I try not to use water bottles, and I recycle, so leave me alone). Even if mankind does persist, evolution will surely play its role. Natural selection will play a part, survival of the fittest and all. Although I think that means I have to eat people who think Jay Leno is funny.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: the Rock of Ages movie currently in the works. You guys, it's like this Broadway musical was written just for me - the soundtrack is nothing but classic 80's rock songs. I'm thrilled to death that it's being made into a movie. It's being done by Adam Shankman, who did Hairspray. Casting John Travolta aside, I thought he did a great job with that, so I'm looking forward to what he does here. I've been reading rumors that Tom Cruise is thisclose to being cast as aging 80's sex-god rocker Stacee Jaxx (ladies love him, guys want to be him, and his band hates him). I don't share the hatred of Tom Cruise many developed after the Oprah and Matt Lauer incidents, and I actually think he would be perfect for this skeevy asshole of a role. I just want to know if he can sing - Stacee's performances include Bon Jovi's "Wanted: Dead or Alive," "I Want To Know What Love Is" by Foreigner, and "Cum On Feel The Noize" by Quiet Riot. Shankman damn sure better not cut any of the music, that's what makes this show so brilliant. The only problem I have so far is that I've also seen rumors that Taylor Swift is being considered for the female lead, Sherrie. If that goes through, I will shank Shankman, I sweartogod. No way can she handle Sherrie's songs. Plus she's annoying as sin.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
And The Award Goes To . . .
So the Golden Globes were this past Sunday. I was unable to watch it live, but I’ve watched it since, so I figured I’d share a few thoughts. Before I begin, I’m going to give my usual warning – don’t judge. I LOVE awards shows. I don’t care if it’s all Hollywood politics. I love the dresses and outfits, I love the stars, I love watching the stars interact, I love the reactions, all of it. I know I’m not alone, but I know a lot of readers don’t give a rat’s ass who won the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a TV Series Drama – so read or don’t read, just know you’re getting another one of these when the Oscars roll around. And the Emmy’s. Maybe even the SAG Awards. It’s going to be long, and it’s going to be self-indulgent as hell, but I feel like talking about it – so deal with it.
Firstly, after reading several articles, recaps, and reviews, I would like to send a resounding “suck it” to Hollywood in general. Particularly you, Bruce Willis (to whom I would also like to say, Own Your Shit). Ricky Gervais was a freaking riot. I’ve loved him since I first saw the British version of "The Office", 5 or 6 years ago, and he remains one of my favorite comedians. Grow a sense of humor, guys, and stop taking yourselves so seriously! I have a fear that we’ll end up with another situation like after Janet Jackson’s Superbowl performance a few years ago – something happens that is deemed scandalous, and we’ll be doomed to be entertained by old unfunny white guys for 5 or 6 years until everybody stops talking about it.
How completely awesome is Robert Downey Jr.? It’s no secret I have a deep, undying love for him (second perhaps only to my shameless infatuation with Johnny Depp), but my god the man deserves it. Hands down, best single presenter of the night. Best presenting duo goes to Steve Carrell and Tina Fey, funny and with impeccable timing, as always. Or perhaps Tom Hanks and Tim Allen, because their quips at Gervais were actually clever, they were funny overall, and I basically love anything Tom Hanks does.
Speaking of presenters, I would very much like the job of deciding who presents, and with whom they present, and what they would present. I also want to know why the presenting of the Best Picture nominees was in some cases done by stars of the respective movies, and in some cases by absolutely random human beings. Do one or the other folks. For instance, with The King’s Speech – don’t tell me you couldn’t get Helena Bonham Carter’s exemplary batshit nuttery up there. And who decided Megan Fox should present for The Tourist? Because that was genius. I would absolutely love to take an epic star, like Robert De Niro, and pair him with Justin Bieber and make him present Best Foreign Feature or something equally as random. I would amuse myself to no end playing games with that. Or take a hugely important film like Inception, and get the entire cast of Twilight to present it. Same goes for the seating chart – I get that with the Globes, there is some degree of perceived “importance” involved, and studios and networks buy tables and all that. So you have your De Niro’s and Pacino’s up front, but then you get a Michelle Pfeiffer up front, and for heaven’s sake, it took Katey Sagal forty three minutes to get to the stage. I want to mix and match tables. I mean, the table with Jimmy Fallon and LL Cool J had to be having a BLAST.
I love the little things nobody really notices. I loved Tim Allen looking utterly bored because none of this really involved him. He didn’t even get a reaction shot for Toy Story 3’s big win until the end of the speech, the cameras (rightly) spent way more time on Tom Hanks. I loved Robert Pattinson staring down at Olivia Wilde’s dress, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get around it to the microphone. I love the shots of Lea Michele, who I really truly just do not care for, staring into the camera and giving the fakest act of enthusiasm and surprise for her costars, right down to wiping a tear away from noticeably dry eyes (and then losing her own award). I love the shots of stars who don’t realize that the cameras are on them and they are on air, like odd facial expressions from Peter Facinelli, or Dennis Quaid pouting because he lost to Al Pacino (come on, Dennis, you played Bill Clinton well, but Al Pacino was Dr. Kevorkian - death trumps democrat every time). I love when winners thank the presenters for their award – you realize they just handed it over to you, they didn’t actually grant you the award, right?
This isn’t really relevant to the awards . . . but is there anybody in the world creepier than Ian McShane? Good Lord. One shot of him in the audience, and it put a significant damper on the show. I really think he might actually be the Grim Reaper.
There were some awesome acceptance speeches. I’m not a big Christian Bale fan, but his was great. Jane Lynch was a riot – “I am nothing if not falsely humble” was a beautiful line. Colin Firth was surprisingly funny and clever for a Brit who occasionally comes off as very dry – triangle of man-love, Geoffrey Rush as his geisha, it was great. I love it when you can tell somebody is genuinely excited and happy, like Chris Colfer for his Supporting Actor win, and Jim Parsons and Kaley Cuoco for Parsons’ Best Actor in a TV Comedy win.
I can’t even quibble with most of the wins, given the respective nominees (I won’t discuss my thoughts on nominees, as it would take forever and I’m still bitter over some). As far as the TV awards go, I was especially thrilled for Katey Sagal (it’s about damn time "Sons of Anarchy" gets some kind of recognition, it’s easily one of the best dramas on TV) and Jim Parsons. Lead Actor in a TV Drama was a stacked category, and while I don’t think Steve Buscemi would have been my choice for the win, I totally understand it, "Boardwalk Empire" is classic award bait. I question "Glee" and Chris Colfer’s wins a bit though . . . I don’t care for the show much at all, but I really wouldn’t strictly call it a comedy. As one writer put it, “yeah, Colfer was hilarious in that episode where his dad almost died.” While Colfer has clearly been a great actor, and his genuine surprise was precious, it’s not a comedy performance, especially this season. I still would have gone with Eric Stonestreet, Cam from "Modern Family". To be fair, the Golden Globes, unlike the Emmy’s, just lumps all the supporting actors into one big award without a distinction between comedy and drama, so he didn’t really win a comedy acting award, but the show itself was nominated as a comedy. And there is no way on this green Earth you can justify to me that "Glee" has been a better comedy than "Modern Family". As for the movies, I think it’s hilarious (despite my deep love for him) that Johnny Depp had two fifths of the Best Actor in a Comedy or Musical Film nominations and still didn’t win. I haven’t seen much about Barney’s Version, but I’ve heard good things about it, so I won’t quibble with Paul Giamatti’s win over him. And furthermore, I’m sure Depp is thrilled that while this prestigious awards show is airing, during which he is nominated for two acting awards and a couple of movies featuring him are nominated as well, commercials continuously air pimping his new movie, a cheesy animated flick in which he voices a lizard. Colin Firth and Natalie Portman’s wins were no surprises, and absolutely well deserved. The Social Network’s win for Best Motion Picture Drama is the big shocker for me. I really thought it would go to Inception, with Black Swan as the dark horse, or even The King’s Speech, which seemed like a pretty clear favorite for the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (and myself).
All that recap, and I didn’t even mention Sandra Bullock’s BANGS, Natalie Portman’s rose, or January Jones being January Jones (and she wonders why nobody takes her seriously). All in all, I thought it was a great example of an awards show. Most presenters and winners were fun and funny – Michael Douglas even made a fun off-the-cuff cancer quip. I look forward to the Oscars (nominations out on January 25th), especially since the Globes are considered a kind of precursor or sneak preview as to how things are likely to go down. The Oscars don’t distinguish between comedy and drama, so it’s interesting to see which respective winners beat the other out. But the Oscars are never as much fun as the Globes . . . they’re taken way more seriously, the actors don’t get to drink through them, and they aren’t being hosted by Ricky Gervais.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: the fact that I only had to buy 3 textbooks for this semester, and one only cost $40. The other two were more expensive and much larger, but hey, it’s a far cry from the days of 10 books for 4 classes at like $872. It takes little to excite me these days.
Firstly, after reading several articles, recaps, and reviews, I would like to send a resounding “suck it” to Hollywood in general. Particularly you, Bruce Willis (to whom I would also like to say, Own Your Shit). Ricky Gervais was a freaking riot. I’ve loved him since I first saw the British version of "The Office", 5 or 6 years ago, and he remains one of my favorite comedians. Grow a sense of humor, guys, and stop taking yourselves so seriously! I have a fear that we’ll end up with another situation like after Janet Jackson’s Superbowl performance a few years ago – something happens that is deemed scandalous, and we’ll be doomed to be entertained by old unfunny white guys for 5 or 6 years until everybody stops talking about it.
How completely awesome is Robert Downey Jr.? It’s no secret I have a deep, undying love for him (second perhaps only to my shameless infatuation with Johnny Depp), but my god the man deserves it. Hands down, best single presenter of the night. Best presenting duo goes to Steve Carrell and Tina Fey, funny and with impeccable timing, as always. Or perhaps Tom Hanks and Tim Allen, because their quips at Gervais were actually clever, they were funny overall, and I basically love anything Tom Hanks does.
Speaking of presenters, I would very much like the job of deciding who presents, and with whom they present, and what they would present. I also want to know why the presenting of the Best Picture nominees was in some cases done by stars of the respective movies, and in some cases by absolutely random human beings. Do one or the other folks. For instance, with The King’s Speech – don’t tell me you couldn’t get Helena Bonham Carter’s exemplary batshit nuttery up there. And who decided Megan Fox should present for The Tourist? Because that was genius. I would absolutely love to take an epic star, like Robert De Niro, and pair him with Justin Bieber and make him present Best Foreign Feature or something equally as random. I would amuse myself to no end playing games with that. Or take a hugely important film like Inception, and get the entire cast of Twilight to present it. Same goes for the seating chart – I get that with the Globes, there is some degree of perceived “importance” involved, and studios and networks buy tables and all that. So you have your De Niro’s and Pacino’s up front, but then you get a Michelle Pfeiffer up front, and for heaven’s sake, it took Katey Sagal forty three minutes to get to the stage. I want to mix and match tables. I mean, the table with Jimmy Fallon and LL Cool J had to be having a BLAST.
I love the little things nobody really notices. I loved Tim Allen looking utterly bored because none of this really involved him. He didn’t even get a reaction shot for Toy Story 3’s big win until the end of the speech, the cameras (rightly) spent way more time on Tom Hanks. I loved Robert Pattinson staring down at Olivia Wilde’s dress, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get around it to the microphone. I love the shots of Lea Michele, who I really truly just do not care for, staring into the camera and giving the fakest act of enthusiasm and surprise for her costars, right down to wiping a tear away from noticeably dry eyes (and then losing her own award). I love the shots of stars who don’t realize that the cameras are on them and they are on air, like odd facial expressions from Peter Facinelli, or Dennis Quaid pouting because he lost to Al Pacino (come on, Dennis, you played Bill Clinton well, but Al Pacino was Dr. Kevorkian - death trumps democrat every time). I love when winners thank the presenters for their award – you realize they just handed it over to you, they didn’t actually grant you the award, right?
This isn’t really relevant to the awards . . . but is there anybody in the world creepier than Ian McShane? Good Lord. One shot of him in the audience, and it put a significant damper on the show. I really think he might actually be the Grim Reaper.
There were some awesome acceptance speeches. I’m not a big Christian Bale fan, but his was great. Jane Lynch was a riot – “I am nothing if not falsely humble” was a beautiful line. Colin Firth was surprisingly funny and clever for a Brit who occasionally comes off as very dry – triangle of man-love, Geoffrey Rush as his geisha, it was great. I love it when you can tell somebody is genuinely excited and happy, like Chris Colfer for his Supporting Actor win, and Jim Parsons and Kaley Cuoco for Parsons’ Best Actor in a TV Comedy win.
I can’t even quibble with most of the wins, given the respective nominees (I won’t discuss my thoughts on nominees, as it would take forever and I’m still bitter over some). As far as the TV awards go, I was especially thrilled for Katey Sagal (it’s about damn time "Sons of Anarchy" gets some kind of recognition, it’s easily one of the best dramas on TV) and Jim Parsons. Lead Actor in a TV Drama was a stacked category, and while I don’t think Steve Buscemi would have been my choice for the win, I totally understand it, "Boardwalk Empire" is classic award bait. I question "Glee" and Chris Colfer’s wins a bit though . . . I don’t care for the show much at all, but I really wouldn’t strictly call it a comedy. As one writer put it, “yeah, Colfer was hilarious in that episode where his dad almost died.” While Colfer has clearly been a great actor, and his genuine surprise was precious, it’s not a comedy performance, especially this season. I still would have gone with Eric Stonestreet, Cam from "Modern Family". To be fair, the Golden Globes, unlike the Emmy’s, just lumps all the supporting actors into one big award without a distinction between comedy and drama, so he didn’t really win a comedy acting award, but the show itself was nominated as a comedy. And there is no way on this green Earth you can justify to me that "Glee" has been a better comedy than "Modern Family". As for the movies, I think it’s hilarious (despite my deep love for him) that Johnny Depp had two fifths of the Best Actor in a Comedy or Musical Film nominations and still didn’t win. I haven’t seen much about Barney’s Version, but I’ve heard good things about it, so I won’t quibble with Paul Giamatti’s win over him. And furthermore, I’m sure Depp is thrilled that while this prestigious awards show is airing, during which he is nominated for two acting awards and a couple of movies featuring him are nominated as well, commercials continuously air pimping his new movie, a cheesy animated flick in which he voices a lizard. Colin Firth and Natalie Portman’s wins were no surprises, and absolutely well deserved. The Social Network’s win for Best Motion Picture Drama is the big shocker for me. I really thought it would go to Inception, with Black Swan as the dark horse, or even The King’s Speech, which seemed like a pretty clear favorite for the Hollywood Foreign Press Association (and myself).
All that recap, and I didn’t even mention Sandra Bullock’s BANGS, Natalie Portman’s rose, or January Jones being January Jones (and she wonders why nobody takes her seriously). All in all, I thought it was a great example of an awards show. Most presenters and winners were fun and funny – Michael Douglas even made a fun off-the-cuff cancer quip. I look forward to the Oscars (nominations out on January 25th), especially since the Globes are considered a kind of precursor or sneak preview as to how things are likely to go down. The Oscars don’t distinguish between comedy and drama, so it’s interesting to see which respective winners beat the other out. But the Oscars are never as much fun as the Globes . . . they’re taken way more seriously, the actors don’t get to drink through them, and they aren’t being hosted by Ricky Gervais.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: the fact that I only had to buy 3 textbooks for this semester, and one only cost $40. The other two were more expensive and much larger, but hey, it’s a far cry from the days of 10 books for 4 classes at like $872. It takes little to excite me these days.
Monday, January 10, 2011
I Promise I'm Smart
I would like to start by saying that I blame today’s activities on my new iPad.
One of the games that I have downloaded and subsequently become addicted to is Plants vs. Zombies. If you are unfamiliar, it is a game where you have to plant various plant weapons to fight off a horde of oncoming zombies with various powers, to keep them from entering your house. If your horticultural onslaught is insufficient to keep the zombies at bay, they eat through your plants, enter your home, and eat your brains. I have suffered this virtual misfortune once or twice, and thus I blame the zombies for my lack of brain power lately.
I started my spring semester at UT today. I woke up thoroughly displeased over it. My allergies are bothering me, the shingles are very uncomfortable, I’m not happy with my schedule, and it’s cold and nasty outside (weather only fit for staying in bed). So, I was really annoyed by the idea of going to school, and not happy to be venturing out at ALL.
I got to campus, and marveled that there were still people walking and riding bikes in this disgusting weather. I entered the parking garage, and my mood lifted a little when I scored an excellent spot – right next to the walkway to the law building, and on a level where I would be able to go directly out, without having to go up a level to go back down. I was a little confused by this, because I had assumed that getting to campus in the middle of the day would surely mean parking on the roof, but I wrote it off and rationalized that the garage emptied after morning classes.
I trudged the short distance to the law building in the awful weather conditions, and couldn’t help but notice there weren’t many students around outside or in the halls. I decided 12:30 was an odd time for a class to start, and most people would be downstairs in the café or in class.
I reached the assigned classroom, and noticed that it was dark inside. I went in and chose a seat – there were plenty to pick from, as the room was empty. This worried me, as class was 8 minutes away from starting. I knew I was in the correct place, I had double checked. I pulled out the phone and shot off a frantic text to my good friend who was taking the class with me, to make sure she was still in the class and I was in the right spot. She responded, saying that yes she was in the class, but didn’t classes start on the 18th?
Shit.
I whipped out my computer, and pulled up the academic calendar. Sure enough, next to the 18th, it said “classes begin.” Today is not the 18th. Today is the 10th.
Damn.
For someone who presents herself as being reasonably intelligent, I am a complete, utter dumbass.
My previously un-accessed brain went into overdrive. I covered quickly, responding that yes classes did begin on the 18th, and I was checking to make sure she was still taking the class, since I was considering changing my schedule. Then, shortly after having a discussion with her over which classes to switch around, I realized my cover-up was futile. I left my mom’s house to come back to Austin yesterday, telling her that I had to start classes today. I really didn’t have the energy to start up a clever ruse with her to act as though I were in class all week. And I knew that if I admitted what I’d done to her, I may as well blog about it and admit it to the world, because I can guaran-damn-tee you, there will be NO living this down at my house.
I will say I am in a much better mood now. It’s a great feeling to know I have another whole week ahead of free time. I had a lovely day hitting up Sephora and going to see The King’s Speech (which was just as excellent a movie as it has been hyped to be). And I really needed to come back to Austin anyway, to water the plants, get my mail, and pay my bills. But still. I really have no idea what I was thinking, why on Earth I thought classes started today. All day I’ve been shaking my head and going back and forth between between laughing at myself and smacking myself. Even with all the odd things I noticed around campus, it never occurred to me that I was there on the wrong day. Careful inspection of my past behavior doesn’t show me that I ever really looked at the academic calendar. I don’t know where I got the idea that classes started today. I really and truly cannot figure out what the hell went through my mind that I cut short my vacation by a week, invaded my doctor’s weekend by calling her to get a prescription for shingles before going back to class Monday, and was in a foul mood for a day or so over the prospect of starting school up again. I am left with no explanation, other than the zombies ate my brains.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: The new ABC show, Off The Map. I shouldn’t be. I HATE Grey’s Anatomy, and the only good thing about Private Practice is Taye Diggs (hey-o!), so I really shouldn’t get my hopes up about a third Shonda Rhimes show. But the Off The Map bastards went and cast Zach Gilford in one of the main roles. With the sad, sad end of Friday Night Lights looming, I suppose I’m desperate to keep the cast on my TV screen. I do love that damn little Matt Saracen. I tried to watch Private Practice on the grounds that Taye Diggs is Taye Diggs, but that failed miserably. And, ironically enough, the only full episodes of Grey's Anatomy that I've watched are the ones that Kyle Chandler, Friday Night Lights' Coach Taylor, guest starred on. I should know better than to pick a show purely on the grounds of one cast member (especially a show put out by Shonda Rhimes), but here I am programming it into my DVR anyway!
One of the games that I have downloaded and subsequently become addicted to is Plants vs. Zombies. If you are unfamiliar, it is a game where you have to plant various plant weapons to fight off a horde of oncoming zombies with various powers, to keep them from entering your house. If your horticultural onslaught is insufficient to keep the zombies at bay, they eat through your plants, enter your home, and eat your brains. I have suffered this virtual misfortune once or twice, and thus I blame the zombies for my lack of brain power lately.
I started my spring semester at UT today. I woke up thoroughly displeased over it. My allergies are bothering me, the shingles are very uncomfortable, I’m not happy with my schedule, and it’s cold and nasty outside (weather only fit for staying in bed). So, I was really annoyed by the idea of going to school, and not happy to be venturing out at ALL.
I got to campus, and marveled that there were still people walking and riding bikes in this disgusting weather. I entered the parking garage, and my mood lifted a little when I scored an excellent spot – right next to the walkway to the law building, and on a level where I would be able to go directly out, without having to go up a level to go back down. I was a little confused by this, because I had assumed that getting to campus in the middle of the day would surely mean parking on the roof, but I wrote it off and rationalized that the garage emptied after morning classes.
I trudged the short distance to the law building in the awful weather conditions, and couldn’t help but notice there weren’t many students around outside or in the halls. I decided 12:30 was an odd time for a class to start, and most people would be downstairs in the café or in class.
I reached the assigned classroom, and noticed that it was dark inside. I went in and chose a seat – there were plenty to pick from, as the room was empty. This worried me, as class was 8 minutes away from starting. I knew I was in the correct place, I had double checked. I pulled out the phone and shot off a frantic text to my good friend who was taking the class with me, to make sure she was still in the class and I was in the right spot. She responded, saying that yes she was in the class, but didn’t classes start on the 18th?
Shit.
I whipped out my computer, and pulled up the academic calendar. Sure enough, next to the 18th, it said “classes begin.” Today is not the 18th. Today is the 10th.
Damn.
For someone who presents herself as being reasonably intelligent, I am a complete, utter dumbass.
My previously un-accessed brain went into overdrive. I covered quickly, responding that yes classes did begin on the 18th, and I was checking to make sure she was still taking the class, since I was considering changing my schedule. Then, shortly after having a discussion with her over which classes to switch around, I realized my cover-up was futile. I left my mom’s house to come back to Austin yesterday, telling her that I had to start classes today. I really didn’t have the energy to start up a clever ruse with her to act as though I were in class all week. And I knew that if I admitted what I’d done to her, I may as well blog about it and admit it to the world, because I can guaran-damn-tee you, there will be NO living this down at my house.
I will say I am in a much better mood now. It’s a great feeling to know I have another whole week ahead of free time. I had a lovely day hitting up Sephora and going to see The King’s Speech (which was just as excellent a movie as it has been hyped to be). And I really needed to come back to Austin anyway, to water the plants, get my mail, and pay my bills. But still. I really have no idea what I was thinking, why on Earth I thought classes started today. All day I’ve been shaking my head and going back and forth between between laughing at myself and smacking myself. Even with all the odd things I noticed around campus, it never occurred to me that I was there on the wrong day. Careful inspection of my past behavior doesn’t show me that I ever really looked at the academic calendar. I don’t know where I got the idea that classes started today. I really and truly cannot figure out what the hell went through my mind that I cut short my vacation by a week, invaded my doctor’s weekend by calling her to get a prescription for shingles before going back to class Monday, and was in a foul mood for a day or so over the prospect of starting school up again. I am left with no explanation, other than the zombies ate my brains.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: The new ABC show, Off The Map. I shouldn’t be. I HATE Grey’s Anatomy, and the only good thing about Private Practice is Taye Diggs (hey-o!), so I really shouldn’t get my hopes up about a third Shonda Rhimes show. But the Off The Map bastards went and cast Zach Gilford in one of the main roles. With the sad, sad end of Friday Night Lights looming, I suppose I’m desperate to keep the cast on my TV screen. I do love that damn little Matt Saracen. I tried to watch Private Practice on the grounds that Taye Diggs is Taye Diggs, but that failed miserably. And, ironically enough, the only full episodes of Grey's Anatomy that I've watched are the ones that Kyle Chandler, Friday Night Lights' Coach Taylor, guest starred on. I should know better than to pick a show purely on the grounds of one cast member (especially a show put out by Shonda Rhimes), but here I am programming it into my DVR anyway!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
A Pox On You
In my last post, I mentioned that I am a woman who possesses little to no shame. My, how quickly I was forced to eat those words.
I have shingles.
At first glance, this is nothing to be embarrassed by. Just a big ol’ rash and some pain and discomfort. Nor, now experiencing it, is it anything to laugh at. But really . . . it’s kind of funny.
You see, you can only get shingles if you’ve already had chicken pox. Chicken pox, and thus shingles, is a form of the herpes virus. And so, to combat this viral outbreak, my doctor (god bless her for calling in a scrip for me on a weekend) prescribed me Valtrex.
It’s ok. I’ve been giggling over it since Saturday.
Of course she’s the doctor and she knows what she’s doing and this is totally the normal medicine to prescribe . . . but when one sees Valtrex, one doesn’t think shingles or chicken pox, one thinks of the beautiful commercials featuring lovely people who can now ride bicycles and paddle a canoe thanks to Valtrex taming their genital herpes outbreaks.
And naturally, the wonderful pharmacist who quickly and sympathetically served up the big blue pills for me just before closing on a Saturday evening was the mother of a friend I had grown up with. She knew what was going on, but I still felt the need to continuously mention that it was shingles I was seeking medicine for. I also quickly developed a paranoid fear that everybody in HEB magically grew the ability to see through paper bags and saw me hustling out with a bottle full of Valtrex. I felt the need to either wear a shingles badge or start shouting “Shingles!! I have medication for SHINGLES, people, no genital herpes here!! All medical issues are above the belt and not sexually transmitted!!”
The funniest part is the thick cluster of spots dead center on my abdomen, a couple of inches above my belly button. It looks like I can give you the Care Bear Stare . . . and give you herpes.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: Dermaplast. Yep, all other excitement in my life has paled in comparison to this numbing pain killer spray.
I have shingles.
At first glance, this is nothing to be embarrassed by. Just a big ol’ rash and some pain and discomfort. Nor, now experiencing it, is it anything to laugh at. But really . . . it’s kind of funny.
You see, you can only get shingles if you’ve already had chicken pox. Chicken pox, and thus shingles, is a form of the herpes virus. And so, to combat this viral outbreak, my doctor (god bless her for calling in a scrip for me on a weekend) prescribed me Valtrex.
It’s ok. I’ve been giggling over it since Saturday.
Of course she’s the doctor and she knows what she’s doing and this is totally the normal medicine to prescribe . . . but when one sees Valtrex, one doesn’t think shingles or chicken pox, one thinks of the beautiful commercials featuring lovely people who can now ride bicycles and paddle a canoe thanks to Valtrex taming their genital herpes outbreaks.
And naturally, the wonderful pharmacist who quickly and sympathetically served up the big blue pills for me just before closing on a Saturday evening was the mother of a friend I had grown up with. She knew what was going on, but I still felt the need to continuously mention that it was shingles I was seeking medicine for. I also quickly developed a paranoid fear that everybody in HEB magically grew the ability to see through paper bags and saw me hustling out with a bottle full of Valtrex. I felt the need to either wear a shingles badge or start shouting “Shingles!! I have medication for SHINGLES, people, no genital herpes here!! All medical issues are above the belt and not sexually transmitted!!”
The funniest part is the thick cluster of spots dead center on my abdomen, a couple of inches above my belly button. It looks like I can give you the Care Bear Stare . . . and give you herpes.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: Dermaplast. Yep, all other excitement in my life has paled in comparison to this numbing pain killer spray.
Friday, January 7, 2011
One Way Ticket to Dullsville
If you follow my blog by clicking the links I post to Facebook, you may have noticed that one of my very best friends in the world recently asked me why the hell* I was blogging. At first I scoffed, recognizing that he is just as prone to smart-assery as I am. But then I figured I should explain a little more thoroughly why I have to differentiate my blog from others.
*Well, that wasn’t the exact language he used, but he and I are close enough that colorful language is a frequent, accepted form of communication. Even though I warned you readers of the possibility of offensive language in my original blog post, my mother is a regular reader, and in the interests of keeping her happy in my ongoing unemployment, I’ve chosen to paraphrase here.
I spoke a bit about my intentions in that first blog post, which you can read here. I didn’t really know why I started, but as I have continued to write, my purposes have become more clear. Most, if not all, of the blogs I read that are written by friends and acquaintances serve the purpose of informing their readers about their daily lives. That makes sense. It’s a great way to keep in touch with people and keep others informed. I enjoy seeing people I know living great, happy lives. Most of them discuss their jobs, getting married, being married, and catching a case of the Babies.
Unlike my friends, I do not usually use my blog to feed you tasty tidbits from my fascinating life. I have none of those things previously mentioned, and thus have nothing personal to share with you.
In fact, I hate to disappoint you, dear reader, but . . . I am pretty damned uninteresting.
I can give you an update. I have 2 sisters, who vary between being a total blast and total pains in my ass. My mom is seriously Awesome (yes, the capital A is warranted). I have a lot of acquaintances, and a few great close friends. I graduated in May from St. Mary’s University in San Antonio with my law degree. I took the bar exam in July, and found out I passed in November. Until I moved to Austin in August, I lived with my cousin, her husband, and their three boys (who have me wrapped around their collective dirty little fingers) in an apartment over their garage, and I am still thoroughly unamused that I had to leave. I’m currently in Austin, getting my LLM degree (a Master’s degree in law) in Environmental and Energy law. I’ll graduate in May, and have decided that this will be my final go-round with school as a student. I have no idea what kind of job I will get. I have considered a few options, but considering the job market and the struggles some of my classmates have had, I will pretty much accept anything at this point. My ultimate goal is to become a law professor. I am currently unemployed (by choice) and live alone (again by choice - the very idea of marriage gives me the sweats and hives) with 5 houseplants.
See that? One short paragraph, and I have updated you as to most of the major goings-on in the past few years of my life. If I dedicated my blog to telling the world about myself, you’d all be bored plum to death.
If something happens that I feel you would get a kick out of, I’ll share it. I have little to no shame. And certainly, if I manage to trick some poor, unwitting man into selling me his soul in exchange for my hand in marriage, I’ll be sure to let you know. Until then, I’ll continue to sit here and spout random acts of smart-assery to whomever wishes to read it. Judging by my stats, that's quite a few of you - so thanks :)
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: The triumphant return of Tim Riggins to Friday Night Lights next week! At least, I think it’s next week. He’s supposed to be in the last 5 episodes of the season, and I’ve been annoyed with most of the plot lines this season so I’ve kind of lost track. I really hope it is though . . . with the show soon to go off the air forever, let the poor boy out of jail so we can enjoy him.
*Well, that wasn’t the exact language he used, but he and I are close enough that colorful language is a frequent, accepted form of communication. Even though I warned you readers of the possibility of offensive language in my original blog post, my mother is a regular reader, and in the interests of keeping her happy in my ongoing unemployment, I’ve chosen to paraphrase here.
I spoke a bit about my intentions in that first blog post, which you can read here. I didn’t really know why I started, but as I have continued to write, my purposes have become more clear. Most, if not all, of the blogs I read that are written by friends and acquaintances serve the purpose of informing their readers about their daily lives. That makes sense. It’s a great way to keep in touch with people and keep others informed. I enjoy seeing people I know living great, happy lives. Most of them discuss their jobs, getting married, being married, and catching a case of the Babies.
Unlike my friends, I do not usually use my blog to feed you tasty tidbits from my fascinating life. I have none of those things previously mentioned, and thus have nothing personal to share with you.
In fact, I hate to disappoint you, dear reader, but . . . I am pretty damned uninteresting.
I can give you an update. I have 2 sisters, who vary between being a total blast and total pains in my ass. My mom is seriously Awesome (yes, the capital A is warranted). I have a lot of acquaintances, and a few great close friends. I graduated in May from St. Mary’s University in San Antonio with my law degree. I took the bar exam in July, and found out I passed in November. Until I moved to Austin in August, I lived with my cousin, her husband, and their three boys (who have me wrapped around their collective dirty little fingers) in an apartment over their garage, and I am still thoroughly unamused that I had to leave. I’m currently in Austin, getting my LLM degree (a Master’s degree in law) in Environmental and Energy law. I’ll graduate in May, and have decided that this will be my final go-round with school as a student. I have no idea what kind of job I will get. I have considered a few options, but considering the job market and the struggles some of my classmates have had, I will pretty much accept anything at this point. My ultimate goal is to become a law professor. I am currently unemployed (by choice) and live alone (again by choice - the very idea of marriage gives me the sweats and hives) with 5 houseplants.
See that? One short paragraph, and I have updated you as to most of the major goings-on in the past few years of my life. If I dedicated my blog to telling the world about myself, you’d all be bored plum to death.
If something happens that I feel you would get a kick out of, I’ll share it. I have little to no shame. And certainly, if I manage to trick some poor, unwitting man into selling me his soul in exchange for my hand in marriage, I’ll be sure to let you know. Until then, I’ll continue to sit here and spout random acts of smart-assery to whomever wishes to read it. Judging by my stats, that's quite a few of you - so thanks :)
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: The triumphant return of Tim Riggins to Friday Night Lights next week! At least, I think it’s next week. He’s supposed to be in the last 5 episodes of the season, and I’ve been annoyed with most of the plot lines this season so I’ve kind of lost track. I really hope it is though . . . with the show soon to go off the air forever, let the poor boy out of jail so we can enjoy him.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
A Tale of Two Monicas . . . or, Gift-Wrapped Skeletons in the Closet
Anybody who knows me knows that I am a huge, shameless fan of Friends. I think there is an appropriate Friends moment to mirror pretty much any event in life. For today's particular story, think of the season 8 episode "The One With the Secret Closet."
For those of you who are unable to hear an episode title and immediately recall the major plot points, along with many smaller details (unlike myself - don't judge), I'll give you a quick recap. In this episode, the perennial neat freak Monica has a locked closet in her apartment. Her friend and husband Chandler has never been allowed to peek inside, and his curiosity gets the best of him. He spends the better part of the episode contemplating what atrocities could be hidden away, and trying to break in to find out. He eventually does, only to discover that . . . . the closet is a filthy, disorganized mess. Monica is appropriately ashamed of it, and Chandler "dun dun bada"-s the Sandford and Son theme song.
My mother, also named Monica, is also a total neat freak. Her house is immaculately organized and clean, and she is rightfully proud of it. Whenever the flotsam of daily life starts to accumulate on side tables or kitchen counters, the house goes into lockdown mode until it's all cleared away.
But my mother, like Monica Geller Bing, has a dirty secret - we call it the Craft Closet.
We Martin ladies are a crafty people. No joke, we have an entire large, shelf-lined, walk-in closet in our home dedicated to various crafting supplies. It also houses a few years' accumulation of random stuff with no other appropriate place to occupy. Today, upon realizing that we had literally no room to cram one more tiny item, I took on the Everestian task of cleaning it.
The crafting supplies and office supplies were easy enough to sift through (even if we did have enough pens, pencils, and highlighters to keep a moderately sized office building running for a couple of years). But past that, I discovered the most random assortment of tomfoolery in this one closet. None of it made any sense as a collection. There were a few random Christmas items that didn't fit into the Christmas Closet (yes, next to the Craft Closet is an entire closet dedicated to only Christmas paraphernalia, which, even though it was also recently cleaned out, still overflows). There were enough candles that nobody in my family ever needs to buy another candle as long as we all live, and will probably still have a few left over to bequeath to our descendants. Sewing notions, including several amputated blue jean legs for future patch work. Rolls of wallpaper left over from when the dining room was re-done fifteen or so years ago . . . and that was replaced when the dining room was re-done again last year. No less than 15 old cell phones, along with all of their respective wall and car chargers. A sandwich baggie full of little round magnets. A basketful of plastic Easter eggs. A tail from a Halloween cat costume. A tote bag full of other tote bags. Thermoses. I fear my mother would cut me if I went on.
But the worst of all - the most unholy collection of gift wrapping supplies ever accumulated outside of a department store.
I have no idea why we need so many gift bags, gift boxes, and tissue paper. It has been a long standing habit among us to save all of these things upon receiving a gift for future reuse - but none of us had any idea the collection had gotten so out of hand. I'm talking more than a hundred gift bags, and dozens of boxes. Bags inside of bags, boxes inside of boxes, and bags full of tissue paper. We could run a serious gift wrapping operation for some extra income. Or make a sizeable donation to Candy Spelling's notorious gift wrapping room.
I don't know whatever came of Monica Geller Bing's shameful closet mess. As for this Monica, it took me an entire day, and resulted in the filling of a couple of large garbage bags and a large donation pile, but she has a clean, organized hall closet - with a few empty shelves left over to house future collections of random crap.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: I meant to post this sooner, and I was going to be excited about tonight's episode of Top Chef, the show's 100th episode and it would feature the first time head judge Tom Colicchio would step into the kitchen and show off his skills. Now that the episode has aired, I take back my excitement. *Spoiler Alert* I can't believe that damned Jamie escaped elimination again! I wasn't that attached to Casey (I was way more pissed last week when Spike went home instead of Jamie), but Jamie definitely deserved it tonight, especially after her escapes in past weeks. Furthermore, where the hell is Bourdain??? Don't tell me he's going to be a full-time judge . . . but then never have him show up!!
For those of you who are unable to hear an episode title and immediately recall the major plot points, along with many smaller details (unlike myself - don't judge), I'll give you a quick recap. In this episode, the perennial neat freak Monica has a locked closet in her apartment. Her friend and husband Chandler has never been allowed to peek inside, and his curiosity gets the best of him. He spends the better part of the episode contemplating what atrocities could be hidden away, and trying to break in to find out. He eventually does, only to discover that . . . . the closet is a filthy, disorganized mess. Monica is appropriately ashamed of it, and Chandler "dun dun bada"-s the Sandford and Son theme song.
My mother, also named Monica, is also a total neat freak. Her house is immaculately organized and clean, and she is rightfully proud of it. Whenever the flotsam of daily life starts to accumulate on side tables or kitchen counters, the house goes into lockdown mode until it's all cleared away.
But my mother, like Monica Geller Bing, has a dirty secret - we call it the Craft Closet.
We Martin ladies are a crafty people. No joke, we have an entire large, shelf-lined, walk-in closet in our home dedicated to various crafting supplies. It also houses a few years' accumulation of random stuff with no other appropriate place to occupy. Today, upon realizing that we had literally no room to cram one more tiny item, I took on the Everestian task of cleaning it.
The crafting supplies and office supplies were easy enough to sift through (even if we did have enough pens, pencils, and highlighters to keep a moderately sized office building running for a couple of years). But past that, I discovered the most random assortment of tomfoolery in this one closet. None of it made any sense as a collection. There were a few random Christmas items that didn't fit into the Christmas Closet (yes, next to the Craft Closet is an entire closet dedicated to only Christmas paraphernalia, which, even though it was also recently cleaned out, still overflows). There were enough candles that nobody in my family ever needs to buy another candle as long as we all live, and will probably still have a few left over to bequeath to our descendants. Sewing notions, including several amputated blue jean legs for future patch work. Rolls of wallpaper left over from when the dining room was re-done fifteen or so years ago . . . and that was replaced when the dining room was re-done again last year. No less than 15 old cell phones, along with all of their respective wall and car chargers. A sandwich baggie full of little round magnets. A basketful of plastic Easter eggs. A tail from a Halloween cat costume. A tote bag full of other tote bags. Thermoses. I fear my mother would cut me if I went on.
But the worst of all - the most unholy collection of gift wrapping supplies ever accumulated outside of a department store.
I have no idea why we need so many gift bags, gift boxes, and tissue paper. It has been a long standing habit among us to save all of these things upon receiving a gift for future reuse - but none of us had any idea the collection had gotten so out of hand. I'm talking more than a hundred gift bags, and dozens of boxes. Bags inside of bags, boxes inside of boxes, and bags full of tissue paper. We could run a serious gift wrapping operation for some extra income. Or make a sizeable donation to Candy Spelling's notorious gift wrapping room.
I don't know whatever came of Monica Geller Bing's shameful closet mess. As for this Monica, it took me an entire day, and resulted in the filling of a couple of large garbage bags and a large donation pile, but she has a clean, organized hall closet - with a few empty shelves left over to house future collections of random crap.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: I meant to post this sooner, and I was going to be excited about tonight's episode of Top Chef, the show's 100th episode and it would feature the first time head judge Tom Colicchio would step into the kitchen and show off his skills. Now that the episode has aired, I take back my excitement. *Spoiler Alert* I can't believe that damned Jamie escaped elimination again! I wasn't that attached to Casey (I was way more pissed last week when Spike went home instead of Jamie), but Jamie definitely deserved it tonight, especially after her escapes in past weeks. Furthermore, where the hell is Bourdain??? Don't tell me he's going to be a full-time judge . . . but then never have him show up!!
Monday, January 3, 2011
List of Demands
When a new year rolls around, we are inevitably faced with the discussion of New Year’s Resolutions. I never make any. I know myself too well. I feel like if more people were honest with themselves, they wouldn’t bother giving it a moment’s thought either. I like me. I think I’m pretty great. Sure, if I thought really hard about it, I could make a few adjustments or better myself in a couple of aspects of life – but if I stood up at midnight declared that 2011 would be the Year Of The Better, Thinner, Smarter, Healthier, Wiser, Less Smart-Alecky Jennifer, it would likely be forgotten by me and any witnesses before February rolled around. It’s more a continuous process – I live my life, and if I see an issue, I make an adjustment.
But here’s the thing – even though I don’t think I need to change, I do think a lot of other things do.
Therefore, instead of making resolutions for myself for the year 2011, I’d like to make a few demands on the year in general:
I don't think any of these are unreasonable or unachievable. Of course I have more demands . . . but that should be a good start. So get to work, 2011.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: Angry Birds. I can’t stop. I think I need Bird rehab. A 12-wing program, if you will.
But here’s the thing – even though I don’t think I need to change, I do think a lot of other things do.
Therefore, instead of making resolutions for myself for the year 2011, I’d like to make a few demands on the year in general:
- I would like a better Dallas Cowboys team. Preferably one without Tony Romo. But if you can find a way for him to get over his dreadful inconsistencies and his tendency to choke masterfully in any high-pressure situation, I will grit my teeth and bear his insufferable presence for the greater good of the team.
- Continuing in the theme of sports, I would like for Drayton McLain and Ed Wade to get their heads out of their respective asses, and start putting together an Astros team that has a chance of staying above .500 (I’m not asking for a division championship off the bat – I can be reasonable). I’m willing to be consulted in an advisory capacity.
- I would like the world as a whole to master the ever-so-tricky-and-evasive distinctions between your/you’re, and there/their/they’re. If you can work in an understanding of the difference between plurals, possessives, and plural possessives, that'd be one hell of a bonus.
- I would like to see more big, fun celebrity comebacks. Remember Andrew Keegan? Whatever happened to Jonathan Taylor Thomas (aside from that rumor 5 years or so ago that he’d died)? More Macauley Culkin in 2011, yes? Black Swan already gave Winona Ryder a boost – I’m all for more of her special brand of crazy.
- To make room for these comebacks, several celebrities should gratuitously take a step back. Like, oh, I don’t know, Gwyneth Paltrow maybe? Seth Rogen? Jonah Hill?
- I want to see less children being exploited as “musicians.” If you haven’t hit puberty, no record deal. I’m looking at you, Bieber.
- Speaking of restrictions on record deals, no deal if you have a name that is spelled with things that aren’t recognized letters, if you wear produce as though it is an actual article of clothing, or you have more glitter than brains. And at some point actual talent should be involved.
- More genius marketing campaigns like Michael C. Hall for Dodge, Robert Downey Jr. for Planters Peanuts and Kyle Chandler for Lays. Yeah, it’s probably beneath them to be pimped out in such a fashion, but I think it’s fun. And Friday Night Lights is ending, and the second Sherlock Holmes movie isn’t coming out forever, so I’ll take them where I can. Besides, it totally works – I will absolutely eat Lays potato chips if Coach Taylor tells me to. How about Johnny Depp for Chiquita Bananas? Hugh Jackman for Frosted Flakes?
- I would like for somebody to give me a good job. My mother would probably like this too. She’s quite insistent that at some point I have to stop going to school and start contributing to society. I promise I’m qualified. I’m very good.
- If I’m going to move back there, I would like for the collective city of San Antonio to learn how to drive. Austin, so far you’re ok.
- I would like for Evita, Sweeney Todd, Avenue Q, and Rent to go back on tour. Avenue Q and Rent should take as many original cast members as possible. I won’t ask that of Evita and Sweeney Todd . . . but if Patti Lupone and Angela Lansbury are feeling particularly spry, it would be cool.
- The Office should be cancelled. They’re just embarrassing themselves at this point.
- Tim Gunn should get a judge’s seat on Project Runway. He’s always right.
- All forms of leggings and jeggings should be outlawed and destroyed. They aren’t pants. And I don’t care how skinny you are, they don’t look good. Pants, people. Pants.
- MTV needs to go away. I won’t go into a rant about how it’s not even about music any more, but for god’s sake, if they’re only going to show TV shows, they don’t even show good ones. Jersey Shore alone is responsible for making the nation at least one degree trashier, and not in a good way. The President of the United States gets asked about Snooki – we are in a handbasket going directly to hell, do not pass Go, and do not collect $200. And do not even get me started on Teen Mom.
I don't think any of these are unreasonable or unachievable. Of course I have more demands . . . but that should be a good start. So get to work, 2011.
Sarcasmo
Currently Excited About: Angry Birds. I can’t stop. I think I need Bird rehab. A 12-wing program, if you will.
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