This week tens upon thousands of people did what I used to do...read dozens upon dozens of Father's Day cards to find one that doesn't have a sappy sentiment such as "You are the world's best Dad!" and "Dad...thanks for all the things you did for me throughout the years even tho I didn't appreciate them." I know that this happens as I would see someone with the same robotic movements as me..."pick a card up...open card...roll eyes...put card back...pick up a card..." I would comment..."Oh...I wish there'd be just a generic "Happy Father's Day" one...nothing like golf clubs or race cars on the front...no "#1 Best Dad" pull off medals in the inside. Just a "here's my requisite card 'cause I have to" section...to make it much easier on us. And they would totally agree...furnishing their rationale for doing it...seeking a stranger's approval...and feeling less guilty once received.
Oh...seriously, I've seen the looks on faces. Watch for yourself next time you are standing in the "Happy" Birthday, Father's Day, Mother's Day, Anniversary, etc., aisle. These people are none too happy. Rows upon rows of cards with people holding hands, kissing, having a picnic, horseback riding...you'd think they are selling tampons. It gets to be where you almost want to just complain they don't have one of those "Gift Cards" so you can just spend $4 on one to give it to the person so they can just go pick their own card out. "Here ya go...I didn't care enough to pick a present out for you...why would I bother wasting 20 minutes looking for a card?"
I can see Hallmark making a killing on these things: "When you don't care enough to send the very best...and really don't want to waste the time gagging..." Personally I like the cards without stuff inside...I like to write my own sentiments. Face it, if you are in love with someone, you should be the only one who could tell them how you think...and conversely...if you can't stand the ground they walk upon...especially if you have to tread upon it right after they do.
Yes, I know this probably sounds horribly awful, especially since I revered my Mother so...but sometimes even cards with comedic undertones can't camouflage what you feel in your heart. Sometimes you just want to just say what you have to say...without having to say anything else. Enough said.
A Bit About Me
- Mariann Simms
- Along with my daily duties as founder and head writer of HumorMeOnline.com, in 2003, I took the Grand Prize in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest (also known as the "It Was a Dark and Stormy Night" competition). I've also been a contributor to "The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson" and the web's "The Late Show with David Letterman". I also occupy my time writing three blogs, "Blogged Down at the Moment", "Brit Word of the Day" and "Production Numbers"...and my off-time is spent contemplating in an "on again/off again" fashion...my feable attempts at writing any one of a dozen books. I would love to write professionally one day...and by that I mean "actually get a paycheck".
15 June 2006
08 June 2006
Silly Hat Fridays
If you've lived any time in Montgomery you know full well that this is just not a hoppin' town. This whole place shuts down around 9:00...most people have gone to bed long before then. The club scene...is there a club scene? Well, maybe there is...I'm old now, so maybe it's just knowledge privy only to the younger people. But it seems to me that if you are young and want to have a good time...there's just no place to hang out and meet people in this town...well, even if you are older...you got me where you go. Face it, Barnes & Noble and Books-A-Million's dating scene is only surpassed by Starbucks. In other words...this place is just not happening.
Oh, I know this place isn't New York City, or Los Angeles or Atlanta...far from it...but they have something we don't have. They have places where you can casually stroll down the street and shuffle in and out of and mingle with people who are doing the same. In fact, the town of Buckhead, a section of Atlanta that I love to visit...has a sign on the street where a bunch of clubs are lined up one after the other, which states you cannot circle the block more than three times as this would then be considered "cruising". Oh, no such signs ever needed in THIS town, ever...so I think we need to do something else to get people talking and having a good time.
My proposal...which I've thought about for years...is "Silly Hat Fridays". Oh, don't laugh now...well, unless it gets you to start talking to someone else you wouldn't ordinarily speak to. Just think about it...if a whole community can get into stacking up a flaming tower of jack o'lanterns during Halloween and beating their past record for it...well, that's something. I think we could start something, too. I think we should.
Who wouldn't like to don a wacky hat and drive around town on a Friday night? Look what conversations it would spark..."Hey, where'd you get THAT hat? I made my own...I'm working at the Shakespeare Theatre helping out with their costumes." Or "I got mine online at this place called Giant Steps." Now, would you ever have known that about anyone, without the Silly Hat day? I don't think so. Then it just snowballs from there...you start talking about other things...and pretty soon your awkwardness has turned to real conversation and you didn't have to buy a $6 Frappamochaccino Latte and sip it outside hoping someone notices you. Someone WILL notice you! And they will talk.
Then it can also be parlayed into various things...clubs can feature a discount if you wear a silly hat, so can restaurants and other establishments. If you were living in Jersey, I'd say instead of selling those "Velvet Elvises" by the roadside, you could set up shop selling silly hats...but we aren't in Jersey...so I guess that guy who sells sunglasses out in front of Catholic High can switch...apparently that's a good place to sell sunglasses...I've seen him there a few times. And on Sundays it can be "buy a paper...and a silly hat...that'll be $20...now get your butt outta here, the light's changed". See? Not only has this idea been instrumental in garnering new relationships and promoting friendships...but it's also opened up a whole new marketing dream. "Buy a Christmas tree...get a free hat." Who could possibly pass that opportunity up? "Why...yes, my tree does rival something out of that Charlie Brown Christmas Special...but LOOK at the free hat I got!"
So, as we've just got done at the polls picking our primary candidates for Governor, I think we should see if one of them wants to throw their silly hat into the ring and start a statewide campaign addressing this. Okay, so it wouldn't be as important a platform to run on...than all those other issues that they never deliver...but someone would probably make a killing on those donkey and elephant hats. At the very least that would certainly get people talking for a while...even if they, too, make a few false promises...but hey...isn't that what dating's all about?
Oh, I know this place isn't New York City, or Los Angeles or Atlanta...far from it...but they have something we don't have. They have places where you can casually stroll down the street and shuffle in and out of and mingle with people who are doing the same. In fact, the town of Buckhead, a section of Atlanta that I love to visit...has a sign on the street where a bunch of clubs are lined up one after the other, which states you cannot circle the block more than three times as this would then be considered "cruising". Oh, no such signs ever needed in THIS town, ever...so I think we need to do something else to get people talking and having a good time.
My proposal...which I've thought about for years...is "Silly Hat Fridays". Oh, don't laugh now...well, unless it gets you to start talking to someone else you wouldn't ordinarily speak to. Just think about it...if a whole community can get into stacking up a flaming tower of jack o'lanterns during Halloween and beating their past record for it...well, that's something. I think we could start something, too. I think we should.
Who wouldn't like to don a wacky hat and drive around town on a Friday night? Look what conversations it would spark..."Hey, where'd you get THAT hat? I made my own...I'm working at the Shakespeare Theatre helping out with their costumes." Or "I got mine online at this place called Giant Steps." Now, would you ever have known that about anyone, without the Silly Hat day? I don't think so. Then it just snowballs from there...you start talking about other things...and pretty soon your awkwardness has turned to real conversation and you didn't have to buy a $6 Frappamochaccino Latte and sip it outside hoping someone notices you. Someone WILL notice you! And they will talk.
Then it can also be parlayed into various things...clubs can feature a discount if you wear a silly hat, so can restaurants and other establishments. If you were living in Jersey, I'd say instead of selling those "Velvet Elvises" by the roadside, you could set up shop selling silly hats...but we aren't in Jersey...so I guess that guy who sells sunglasses out in front of Catholic High can switch...apparently that's a good place to sell sunglasses...I've seen him there a few times. And on Sundays it can be "buy a paper...and a silly hat...that'll be $20...now get your butt outta here, the light's changed". See? Not only has this idea been instrumental in garnering new relationships and promoting friendships...but it's also opened up a whole new marketing dream. "Buy a Christmas tree...get a free hat." Who could possibly pass that opportunity up? "Why...yes, my tree does rival something out of that Charlie Brown Christmas Special...but LOOK at the free hat I got!"
So, as we've just got done at the polls picking our primary candidates for Governor, I think we should see if one of them wants to throw their silly hat into the ring and start a statewide campaign addressing this. Okay, so it wouldn't be as important a platform to run on...than all those other issues that they never deliver...but someone would probably make a killing on those donkey and elephant hats. At the very least that would certainly get people talking for a while...even if they, too, make a few false promises...but hey...isn't that what dating's all about?
05 June 2006
Hair Today...Gone Tomorrow
Something happened in the past decade or two which no one has stepped forward to claim credit for...a great plague upon humanity has been cured. Somewhere along the line the Louis Pasteur of hair care products has failed to get his due recognition...somewhere between the time period of Charlie's Angels and the movie remake, "frizzies" and "split ends" became a thing of the past.
When exactly did this all happen? I was thinking about it the other day...oh, I think about the oddest things; but it dawned on me that I haven't seen anyone on television looking forlornly at their split ends like it was the end of the world. No "she's got frizzies!" comments from co-workers being whispered around the office behind their dishpan hands...as dishpan hands are now a thing of the past as well. That "secret ingredient" Madge had everyone "soaking in" in that Palmolive Dishwashing Liquid must have had its patent expire, along with her, sometime in 2004.
So, perhaps other horrid afflictions that dominated the airwaves of the 70's, 80's, and 90's have been exorcised from the viewing public. Let's explore that theory...and to do that we need to remember all those shows we used to watch, what they used to wear that we just had to have, and what we used to buy that we thought would make us look like them, smell like them, and be as irresistible as them...and more importantly, those commercials which promised to do just that.
It seems that women don't get those nasty nicks when they shave their legs anymore and it has absolutely nothing to do with the Epilady or Nads. Epilady which would yank the unsuspecting hair from the most delicate places on a woman's body only to make you wish you'd just pour hot wax on your body. Oh...hot wax? We can do that, too...but we have this product called Nads...Nads...guaranteed to make you buy the product just so you can giggle to your friends that you have Nads. Oh, don't even tell me you watched this infomercial without doing a double-take. But all those products are now a thing of the past...and I don't know how women go about removing all that unwanted hair and apparently the people on television don't care much either.
Women also don't need to control their bulges anymore via L'eggs Control Top Pantyhose...and girdles went out with Lucy. The last time I saw someone on TV dealing with IPLs (Invisible Panty Lines) girls didn't wear thongs that showed above their low-cut jeans as heaven forbid nothing "showed" in the 70's. Remember those seamless bras? "Oh...look at her...you can see the lines on her bra showing thru the shirt...those horrid straps...they aren't SEAMLESS!" Well, they never banked on Madonna coming along wearing her underwear on the outside of her clothes, did they? And seriously, don't we all owe her a debt of gratitude? Without her maybe we'd be so darn self-conscious by now about any protrusion our underwear dared to show that we'd be seeing lawsuits against Playtex..."Your 18-hour bra didn't last 18 hours...and I didn't get that promotion as I was paying too much attention to just how much my seams were showing when I interviewed that I couldn't concentrate on the questions themselves. I therefore am seeking 3 million in damages and another 5 mil in punytive (okay that's bad...I know it) ones...as your bra didn't remotely make me anywhere as endowed as Jane Russell." Altho Farrah Fawcett never was either...and she did just fine jiggling career and fame for a while there.
And I'm not purposely neglecting you guys...but it seems no one wants to see you naked anymore. Sorry. No more "all my men wear English Leather or they wear nothing at all"...and "take it off...take it ALL off". Forget wearing Hi-Karate...no one's going to "attack" you in the elevator no matter how many Cosmo magazines you buy her. Don't believe everything you see...or thinks she reads.
So, tonight as I watch TV I will be reminded that my abdominal bloating can be cured with Zelnorm, my insomnia can be cured with Lunesta, my teeth aren't white enough...my cholesterol isn't low enough...and if I've ever had difficulty concentrating it's gotta be a sign of something more serious that I should probably "ask my doctor about". And regardless of whether I'm taking a purple, blue, or pink pill...anything I take can cause stomach upset, headache or diarrhea...but as far as I know, my hair will still be shiny and my hands...soft as silk.
When exactly did this all happen? I was thinking about it the other day...oh, I think about the oddest things; but it dawned on me that I haven't seen anyone on television looking forlornly at their split ends like it was the end of the world. No "she's got frizzies!" comments from co-workers being whispered around the office behind their dishpan hands...as dishpan hands are now a thing of the past as well. That "secret ingredient" Madge had everyone "soaking in" in that Palmolive Dishwashing Liquid must have had its patent expire, along with her, sometime in 2004.
So, perhaps other horrid afflictions that dominated the airwaves of the 70's, 80's, and 90's have been exorcised from the viewing public. Let's explore that theory...and to do that we need to remember all those shows we used to watch, what they used to wear that we just had to have, and what we used to buy that we thought would make us look like them, smell like them, and be as irresistible as them...and more importantly, those commercials which promised to do just that.
It seems that women don't get those nasty nicks when they shave their legs anymore and it has absolutely nothing to do with the Epilady or Nads. Epilady which would yank the unsuspecting hair from the most delicate places on a woman's body only to make you wish you'd just pour hot wax on your body. Oh...hot wax? We can do that, too...but we have this product called Nads...Nads...guaranteed to make you buy the product just so you can giggle to your friends that you have Nads. Oh, don't even tell me you watched this infomercial without doing a double-take. But all those products are now a thing of the past...and I don't know how women go about removing all that unwanted hair and apparently the people on television don't care much either.
Women also don't need to control their bulges anymore via L'eggs Control Top Pantyhose...and girdles went out with Lucy. The last time I saw someone on TV dealing with IPLs (Invisible Panty Lines) girls didn't wear thongs that showed above their low-cut jeans as heaven forbid nothing "showed" in the 70's. Remember those seamless bras? "Oh...look at her...you can see the lines on her bra showing thru the shirt...those horrid straps...they aren't SEAMLESS!" Well, they never banked on Madonna coming along wearing her underwear on the outside of her clothes, did they? And seriously, don't we all owe her a debt of gratitude? Without her maybe we'd be so darn self-conscious by now about any protrusion our underwear dared to show that we'd be seeing lawsuits against Playtex..."Your 18-hour bra didn't last 18 hours...and I didn't get that promotion as I was paying too much attention to just how much my seams were showing when I interviewed that I couldn't concentrate on the questions themselves. I therefore am seeking 3 million in damages and another 5 mil in punytive (okay that's bad...I know it) ones...as your bra didn't remotely make me anywhere as endowed as Jane Russell." Altho Farrah Fawcett never was either...and she did just fine jiggling career and fame for a while there.
And I'm not purposely neglecting you guys...but it seems no one wants to see you naked anymore. Sorry. No more "all my men wear English Leather or they wear nothing at all"...and "take it off...take it ALL off". Forget wearing Hi-Karate...no one's going to "attack" you in the elevator no matter how many Cosmo magazines you buy her. Don't believe everything you see...or thinks she reads.
So, tonight as I watch TV I will be reminded that my abdominal bloating can be cured with Zelnorm, my insomnia can be cured with Lunesta, my teeth aren't white enough...my cholesterol isn't low enough...and if I've ever had difficulty concentrating it's gotta be a sign of something more serious that I should probably "ask my doctor about". And regardless of whether I'm taking a purple, blue, or pink pill...anything I take can cause stomach upset, headache or diarrhea...but as far as I know, my hair will still be shiny and my hands...soft as silk.
30 May 2006
Sweeps Week
I am not Suzy Homemaker by any means...my house looks lived in. Okay, it looks lived in by a bunch of bachelors, but it's not gross. The only food you'll find on the floor is the cats' fault. No, really, it is...why some cats have to take the morsel OUT of the bowl and put it on the floor I'll never know...but they do...then they leave half of it on the floor. So, if they don't want to eat off my kitchen floor, maybe you shouldn't either. And that brings me to why I haven't been writing as much as usual...I've been cleaning...but not because I want to. Does anyone actually WANT to clean? If they do...they should come here...they'd be in heaven.
The problem is I have a LOT of stuff. It's lying all over the place. You know those "How To Get Rid of Clutter" books? You got it...they are also adding to the clutter. But I must, quick like a bunny, clean up my house to "presentable" status by this weekend. My daughter is having her Birthday Pool Party/Sleepover...and after hearing one of her friends once comment that the inside of my van, in her words..."Looks like your house, Mrs. Simms". Why, thank you very much, you little twit. Okay, I didn't say I liked ALL kids. But I better get in gear.
Another problem that adds up more than you'd realize, is the fact that I am the only one in the house, apparently, with the ability to bend over and pick something up. I've done experiments...I have. I've specifically noted that if there is a piece of paper on the floor, regular 8 1/2 by 11 inch size, strategically knocked off the table by a cat, in the path of where a certain person walks past 87 times a day, it will take approximately 3 days before I get tired of it all and pick it up myself.
I am also the only one in the house who can put "dishwasher loader" and "clothes washer" on my resume. These skills, altho you'd figure were quite readily obtainable by anyone...are not. Next time I watch one of those late night "DeVry University"-type commercials on television, I'm going to see if they offer a degree in those. They should...perhaps that's what they mean by "Restaurant Management"...hmmm...probable. I bet Sally Struthers can't even load a dishwasher properly...and she's no stranger to food.
Don't get me wrong, I've cleaned the house up plenty of times...but we don't routinely have anyone popping over for me to actually make that "cleaning pilgrimage" that often. I'm just not that devoted. I'd love to entertain people...I'm very social...the only problem is that all my friends live "online"...and none of them live close to me. I've tried to mingle...I'm just not the quilting bee, garden club, Pampered Chef kinda person. I can't fit another kitchen gadget in my house...and I'm much too food snobby to purchase one via the likes of a Tupperware-ish party. Yes, I am...I admit it...I am a culinary queen...I turn up my nose to anyone who doesn't know what a shallot is. Arugula and I are on a first name basis...as are watercress and Kosher salt. What? You don't use Kosher salt? Tsk tsk. See what I mean? I'm such a food snob...Alton Brown (of Food Network's "Good Eats" fame) and I could spend half the day arguing over which garlic press is best...and why, scientifically, mine works better. He's always hanging in Atlanta...maybe he'd be willing to come over...hey, I'd even clean the house up!
But, I'm running out of places to put my stuff...and the stuff of my mother's...she liked stuff...I unfortunately inherited all her stuff. I say "unfortunately" only because I'd much prefer her to be alive than to have had it all since 1999. I can't get rid of her stuff...I'm way too sentimental. I have notes my girlfriend and I exchanged between classes from 8th grade and T-shirts from boyfriends saved...you don't think I'm going to eBay my mom's stuff anytime soon, do you? And I'm also running out of time. It might seem like I have scads of time...but I'm not the most motivated of cleaners. I am not the quicker-picker-upper...I clean in spurts and I think my spurts are brought upon some ancient celestial happenstance...and no stars are aligning anytime soon and the summer solstice isn't until mid-June. Oh, I have much better things to do mid-June than clean...at least I hope I do.
So, come Friday, I will do what people since the dawn of man entertaining man have done. I will become a hunter-gatherer. I will hunt down all the stuff I haven't picked up and I will gather it...and toss it into that one room that NO one is allowed to enter. I will keep a watchful vigil...my children will be briefed ahead of time...they know the routine...it's ingrained in them like Pavlov's dog salivating at the sound of a bell. It's like our "Plan B"...our contingency plan for emergencies. And if a bunch of kids dripping chlorinated water on my mom's old oriental rugs on their way to the hallway bathroom, countless times, isn't an emergency...I don't know what is.
The problem is I have a LOT of stuff. It's lying all over the place. You know those "How To Get Rid of Clutter" books? You got it...they are also adding to the clutter. But I must, quick like a bunny, clean up my house to "presentable" status by this weekend. My daughter is having her Birthday Pool Party/Sleepover...and after hearing one of her friends once comment that the inside of my van, in her words..."Looks like your house, Mrs. Simms". Why, thank you very much, you little twit. Okay, I didn't say I liked ALL kids. But I better get in gear.
Another problem that adds up more than you'd realize, is the fact that I am the only one in the house, apparently, with the ability to bend over and pick something up. I've done experiments...I have. I've specifically noted that if there is a piece of paper on the floor, regular 8 1/2 by 11 inch size, strategically knocked off the table by a cat, in the path of where a certain person walks past 87 times a day, it will take approximately 3 days before I get tired of it all and pick it up myself.
I am also the only one in the house who can put "dishwasher loader" and "clothes washer" on my resume. These skills, altho you'd figure were quite readily obtainable by anyone...are not. Next time I watch one of those late night "DeVry University"-type commercials on television, I'm going to see if they offer a degree in those. They should...perhaps that's what they mean by "Restaurant Management"...hmmm...probable. I bet Sally Struthers can't even load a dishwasher properly...and she's no stranger to food.
Don't get me wrong, I've cleaned the house up plenty of times...but we don't routinely have anyone popping over for me to actually make that "cleaning pilgrimage" that often. I'm just not that devoted. I'd love to entertain people...I'm very social...the only problem is that all my friends live "online"...and none of them live close to me. I've tried to mingle...I'm just not the quilting bee, garden club, Pampered Chef kinda person. I can't fit another kitchen gadget in my house...and I'm much too food snobby to purchase one via the likes of a Tupperware-ish party. Yes, I am...I admit it...I am a culinary queen...I turn up my nose to anyone who doesn't know what a shallot is. Arugula and I are on a first name basis...as are watercress and Kosher salt. What? You don't use Kosher salt? Tsk tsk. See what I mean? I'm such a food snob...Alton Brown (of Food Network's "Good Eats" fame) and I could spend half the day arguing over which garlic press is best...and why, scientifically, mine works better. He's always hanging in Atlanta...maybe he'd be willing to come over...hey, I'd even clean the house up!
But, I'm running out of places to put my stuff...and the stuff of my mother's...she liked stuff...I unfortunately inherited all her stuff. I say "unfortunately" only because I'd much prefer her to be alive than to have had it all since 1999. I can't get rid of her stuff...I'm way too sentimental. I have notes my girlfriend and I exchanged between classes from 8th grade and T-shirts from boyfriends saved...you don't think I'm going to eBay my mom's stuff anytime soon, do you? And I'm also running out of time. It might seem like I have scads of time...but I'm not the most motivated of cleaners. I am not the quicker-picker-upper...I clean in spurts and I think my spurts are brought upon some ancient celestial happenstance...and no stars are aligning anytime soon and the summer solstice isn't until mid-June. Oh, I have much better things to do mid-June than clean...at least I hope I do.
So, come Friday, I will do what people since the dawn of man entertaining man have done. I will become a hunter-gatherer. I will hunt down all the stuff I haven't picked up and I will gather it...and toss it into that one room that NO one is allowed to enter. I will keep a watchful vigil...my children will be briefed ahead of time...they know the routine...it's ingrained in them like Pavlov's dog salivating at the sound of a bell. It's like our "Plan B"...our contingency plan for emergencies. And if a bunch of kids dripping chlorinated water on my mom's old oriental rugs on their way to the hallway bathroom, countless times, isn't an emergency...I don't know what is.
25 May 2006
Summer Vaca...shun?
Well, they are doing it again...the last day of school is tomorrow and it's a half-day. If you've been reading my blogs, you know I have a major issue with half-days; if you haven't you do now...only I won't go into detail like I did last time. This time there's more of an issue. One-third of the kids won't even show up, and another third will just show up and leave after saying their "good-byes"...report cards are being sent home, so it's not like you even have to GO there to collect your report card and leave...there's really no reason TO GO to school...as everything's been turned in, all the stuff out of the lockers have been cleared out and did I mention it's a HALF-day? I doubt they'll even be taking attendance. But my daughter is determined to go - and stick it out the whole time...or I guess that would technically be "half time".
Then I have the whole summer to sit back and relax. And that brings me to the crux of this blog's matter: Babies, toddlers, kids and summer vacations, kids and college, kids turning 18...and what I've actually heard come out of some people's mouths.
Now, I like kids. Kids like me. They always have. I remember being very young and little children were somehow drawn to me...if they would have been puppies, I would have had quite a few of them follow me home. I don't know what it is...but even in a car this Pied Piper attraction (well, without the horrid ending) was, and still is, apparent to me. In a drive-thru line at the bank...pulled up next to a car at the light with them next to me...it's like some strange magnetic attraction. Now, I'm not stupid, I know kids will make faces, wave, and act downright silly to passing cars...they're kids...duh. But this is different...plus they AREN'T doing it to the car on the opposite side...they are focusing on me.
"Oh...you just wait, as soon as you have your baby, you'll be DYING to go back to work to get away from IT!" Wow, aren't I glad you weren't MY mom. Yes, this phrase and a few similar versions was actually uttered to me when I returned to New Jersey after living in Las Vegas for a while...and visited my old office to tell them all I was pregnant. So, I'm saying to them, "You know I plan to stay at home as long as I can and raise my child". "Oh...you just wait...you'll change your mind once you have IT." IT? Don't you love how people always call that "baby to be" an "it"? That always strikes me as if it's some alien out of an old black and white sci-fi B-movie..."IT!" I noticed someone saying that to my very pregnant friend at the end of season soccer party we had a couple weeks ago...even tho she told them a couple times that she knew her baby was going to be a boy.
I didn't go back to work...I stayed home and raised my son. My son, who learned to read right before his 3rd birthday. And when I say read, I mean like you or I read...not sounding out the word "C-A-T" with any hesitation...and all without the aid of me strapping him to his highchair and shoving flash cards in his face for hours on end. So, when we were at doctor's offices and he would start reading whatever was around, people's jaws would drop. It was rather fun to see their reactions, I must say. But a couple peoples' reactions just perplexed me...one was a teacher...who I never did get a straight answer from...but both told me, in not so many words that I'd "be sorry he can read that advanced later on". Why?? I still haven't a clue.
Fast forward a little and I come to find out that my son's birthday is 2 days after the cut-off for entrance into Kindergarten...but he's reading 80 books a night...has every dinosaur and their facts memorized and can already add and subtract. So, to make a long story short, I take him to my parents' house in New Jersey, where the cut-off is in October and he gets in...knowing all too well (yes, the secret's out...I did it on purpose) that the school here has to accept transfer students. Aha! A loophole. Not a week in school I'm approached by the teacher who tells me my son has no business being in Kindergarten. Uh oh... No...they want to test him as he's just kinda wasting his time sitting there. They administer the test and he reads at 8th grade level with comprehension and 4th grade overall. They advised against skipping that many grades but suggested we stick him in 1st...which we did. Now, all the while, I'm volunteering at school mainly at the lunchroom, where again, all the kids love me. Every day they'd all come over and hug me...oh you can't do that anymore in schools...heaven forbid anyone shows a child the least bit of affection...and they tell me all about their day and show me their lunches and give me pictures they drew for me. They didn't do that for the other people helping out...but they did for me.
I actually LISTEN to kids...and I talk to them...they can pick up on that. I used to watch a set of twins when my son was two years old...the twins were a little younger. Both parents worked. Now, I'm not ever saying this is bad...not at all...but I would hear from them, many, many times "I don't spend a lot of time with my kids, but the time I do spend is quality time". Uh...okay. You get out of the house as soon as you wake the kids up - you can barely muster up a kiss "good-bye" to them, one parent was long gone before they got up...you return home around 5:30...the kids eat dinner and you bathe them and pop them into bed all by 7:00-7:30. Wow...bowl me over, that's a whole lot of quality time. "Eat, hurry up and eat...drink your drink...time for bed"...5 days out of the week. My kids never went to bed that early...and if I would have worked like that couple did, you can bet they would have stayed up a tad longer. Oh, after working for them for a few months, they let me go as they stated that I "watched their kids too much"...I didn't let them run up and down the busy street without all of us holding hands...I didn't let them climb up and down the steps to the 2nd story wooden deck with the "fall thru" railing, and if they ran out of the room...I went after them. Oh, yes...they had an issue with all of this...especially since they cried their faces off each time I would go home...and each time they woke up they wanted to come to me instead. Honestly. "Oh, all kids go thru a phase where they don't want to come to their parents"... "All kids go thru a phase where they see a stranger, scream bloody murder and cling to you like a leech", "Oh, all kids..." they'd tell me. Um...no they don't. Oh...I didn't even mention...after a week, the kids stopped saying "buh buh" and pointing to everything they wanted...and actually talked. Yes, they were talking within a week. The parents were amazed. Hey...did you ever think maybe you needed to TELL them that everything they were pointing to had a name?
"Wow, I can't wait until my son turns 18 so he can get the hell outta the house"...or "I can't wait until my daughter goes off to college so I don't have to deal with her anymore"...yes, I've head them both...quite a few times. That's nice. So, let me get this straight...they didn't ask to be born...you had kids that you despise so much you want to kick them out as soon as humanly possible? Hmmmm. Okay...I'll not even get into this one...but the way I've always seen it, if you're not a real "people person" maybe you shouldn't take that job working with more of them.
So, as my daughter wraps up another school year we can commence staying up later at night making fun of movies on television, watch our two shows on the Cooking Channel, "Unwrapped" and our favourite, "Good Eats" with Alton Brown (oh he's silly and fun...we like him)...stay up and watch Craig Ferguson and sing the opening song, watch The History Channel (oh she likes documentaries), and generally wake up whenever we feel like and just hang out. Oh, I suppose we'll hang out with my 18-year-old son, too...since I haven't yet kicked his butt out. I better not mention that fact tomorrow as I run into all those parents huffing about how they "just can't wait until school begins again in the fall".
Then I have the whole summer to sit back and relax. And that brings me to the crux of this blog's matter: Babies, toddlers, kids and summer vacations, kids and college, kids turning 18...and what I've actually heard come out of some people's mouths.
Now, I like kids. Kids like me. They always have. I remember being very young and little children were somehow drawn to me...if they would have been puppies, I would have had quite a few of them follow me home. I don't know what it is...but even in a car this Pied Piper attraction (well, without the horrid ending) was, and still is, apparent to me. In a drive-thru line at the bank...pulled up next to a car at the light with them next to me...it's like some strange magnetic attraction. Now, I'm not stupid, I know kids will make faces, wave, and act downright silly to passing cars...they're kids...duh. But this is different...plus they AREN'T doing it to the car on the opposite side...they are focusing on me.
"Oh...you just wait, as soon as you have your baby, you'll be DYING to go back to work to get away from IT!" Wow, aren't I glad you weren't MY mom. Yes, this phrase and a few similar versions was actually uttered to me when I returned to New Jersey after living in Las Vegas for a while...and visited my old office to tell them all I was pregnant. So, I'm saying to them, "You know I plan to stay at home as long as I can and raise my child". "Oh...you just wait...you'll change your mind once you have IT." IT? Don't you love how people always call that "baby to be" an "it"? That always strikes me as if it's some alien out of an old black and white sci-fi B-movie..."IT!" I noticed someone saying that to my very pregnant friend at the end of season soccer party we had a couple weeks ago...even tho she told them a couple times that she knew her baby was going to be a boy.
I didn't go back to work...I stayed home and raised my son. My son, who learned to read right before his 3rd birthday. And when I say read, I mean like you or I read...not sounding out the word "C-A-T" with any hesitation...and all without the aid of me strapping him to his highchair and shoving flash cards in his face for hours on end. So, when we were at doctor's offices and he would start reading whatever was around, people's jaws would drop. It was rather fun to see their reactions, I must say. But a couple peoples' reactions just perplexed me...one was a teacher...who I never did get a straight answer from...but both told me, in not so many words that I'd "be sorry he can read that advanced later on". Why?? I still haven't a clue.
Fast forward a little and I come to find out that my son's birthday is 2 days after the cut-off for entrance into Kindergarten...but he's reading 80 books a night...has every dinosaur and their facts memorized and can already add and subtract. So, to make a long story short, I take him to my parents' house in New Jersey, where the cut-off is in October and he gets in...knowing all too well (yes, the secret's out...I did it on purpose) that the school here has to accept transfer students. Aha! A loophole. Not a week in school I'm approached by the teacher who tells me my son has no business being in Kindergarten. Uh oh... No...they want to test him as he's just kinda wasting his time sitting there. They administer the test and he reads at 8th grade level with comprehension and 4th grade overall. They advised against skipping that many grades but suggested we stick him in 1st...which we did. Now, all the while, I'm volunteering at school mainly at the lunchroom, where again, all the kids love me. Every day they'd all come over and hug me...oh you can't do that anymore in schools...heaven forbid anyone shows a child the least bit of affection...and they tell me all about their day and show me their lunches and give me pictures they drew for me. They didn't do that for the other people helping out...but they did for me.
I actually LISTEN to kids...and I talk to them...they can pick up on that. I used to watch a set of twins when my son was two years old...the twins were a little younger. Both parents worked. Now, I'm not ever saying this is bad...not at all...but I would hear from them, many, many times "I don't spend a lot of time with my kids, but the time I do spend is quality time". Uh...okay. You get out of the house as soon as you wake the kids up - you can barely muster up a kiss "good-bye" to them, one parent was long gone before they got up...you return home around 5:30...the kids eat dinner and you bathe them and pop them into bed all by 7:00-7:30. Wow...bowl me over, that's a whole lot of quality time. "Eat, hurry up and eat...drink your drink...time for bed"...5 days out of the week. My kids never went to bed that early...and if I would have worked like that couple did, you can bet they would have stayed up a tad longer. Oh, after working for them for a few months, they let me go as they stated that I "watched their kids too much"...I didn't let them run up and down the busy street without all of us holding hands...I didn't let them climb up and down the steps to the 2nd story wooden deck with the "fall thru" railing, and if they ran out of the room...I went after them. Oh, yes...they had an issue with all of this...especially since they cried their faces off each time I would go home...and each time they woke up they wanted to come to me instead. Honestly. "Oh, all kids go thru a phase where they don't want to come to their parents"... "All kids go thru a phase where they see a stranger, scream bloody murder and cling to you like a leech", "Oh, all kids..." they'd tell me. Um...no they don't. Oh...I didn't even mention...after a week, the kids stopped saying "buh buh" and pointing to everything they wanted...and actually talked. Yes, they were talking within a week. The parents were amazed. Hey...did you ever think maybe you needed to TELL them that everything they were pointing to had a name?
"Wow, I can't wait until my son turns 18 so he can get the hell outta the house"...or "I can't wait until my daughter goes off to college so I don't have to deal with her anymore"...yes, I've head them both...quite a few times. That's nice. So, let me get this straight...they didn't ask to be born...you had kids that you despise so much you want to kick them out as soon as humanly possible? Hmmmm. Okay...I'll not even get into this one...but the way I've always seen it, if you're not a real "people person" maybe you shouldn't take that job working with more of them.
So, as my daughter wraps up another school year we can commence staying up later at night making fun of movies on television, watch our two shows on the Cooking Channel, "Unwrapped" and our favourite, "Good Eats" with Alton Brown (oh he's silly and fun...we like him)...stay up and watch Craig Ferguson and sing the opening song, watch The History Channel (oh she likes documentaries), and generally wake up whenever we feel like and just hang out. Oh, I suppose we'll hang out with my 18-year-old son, too...since I haven't yet kicked his butt out. I better not mention that fact tomorrow as I run into all those parents huffing about how they "just can't wait until school begins again in the fall".
21 May 2006
Baseball's Been Barry Barry Good To Him...
I don't watch a lot of sports...I do watch the Olympics, that's about it. I've watched the last game in a World Series once or twice, but my fascination with sports ended when Bjorn Borg stopped winning tennis matches. I remember, in my youth, being glued to the set on Saturday afternoons watching "ABC's Wide World of Sports" with Roone Arledge.
I remember "the guy". Oh, you remember "the guy"...if you've ever seen the show, you just don't know his name. Vinko Bogataj who will live in infamy as the "agony of defeat" guy...the guy whose fall off the ski jump looks like death personified. He wasn't at all badly hurt, by the way...but regardless of that fact, he still managed to make us cringe each and every week.
Speaking of cringing...how about "the thrill of victory"...achieved under quite controversial allegations. I'm talking about Barry Bonds...who just tied Babe Ruth's 714th home run record...eclipsed only by Hank Aaron's phenomenal 755. Again, I reiterate that I'm not sports-conscious by any means, but...the guy has been under question for steroid use for some time now. With good reason a lot of them probably use or have used some type of performance enhancers...but as baseball's just recently started testing for them...and suspending players...how can you possibly allow "alleged past offenders" to set or match records? Where do you draw the line? Can a line be drawn after the fact?
Actually, when I really think about it...it would be much more entertaining if they all used steroids. All of them running around at warp speed...heart racing at double-time...hitting balls out of the stadium routinely...not realizing their arm just flew off with the bat...and none of them really needing protective athletic cups...oh, c'mon...you KNOW what steroids do, right? Hey, I'd actually WATCH those games. Talk about the agony of defeat...in the long run.
Granted Babe Ruth was like 98 when he retired in 1935...okay, so he was only 40...he looked older if you ask me...but Barry is almost 42. He's no spring chicken by any stretch...even a 7th inning one...and something tells me he's not going to surpass Hank's record. Something tells me he shouldn't. Something tells me Pete Rose should be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame...but...that's a whole other blog I'm not going to get into any time soon.
A little something to keep in mind...Bonds will pull in $20 million this year alone (the fourth highest salary in baseball...and the highest paid Yankees player), not including bonuses and endorsement deals. In 1932, Ruth's salary was $80,000 a year...adjusted to today's standards, that would be roughly $1,000,000. Steroids, incidentally, were invented in the 1930s.
I remember "the guy". Oh, you remember "the guy"...if you've ever seen the show, you just don't know his name. Vinko Bogataj who will live in infamy as the "agony of defeat" guy...the guy whose fall off the ski jump looks like death personified. He wasn't at all badly hurt, by the way...but regardless of that fact, he still managed to make us cringe each and every week.
Speaking of cringing...how about "the thrill of victory"...achieved under quite controversial allegations. I'm talking about Barry Bonds...who just tied Babe Ruth's 714th home run record...eclipsed only by Hank Aaron's phenomenal 755. Again, I reiterate that I'm not sports-conscious by any means, but...the guy has been under question for steroid use for some time now. With good reason a lot of them probably use or have used some type of performance enhancers...but as baseball's just recently started testing for them...and suspending players...how can you possibly allow "alleged past offenders" to set or match records? Where do you draw the line? Can a line be drawn after the fact?
Actually, when I really think about it...it would be much more entertaining if they all used steroids. All of them running around at warp speed...heart racing at double-time...hitting balls out of the stadium routinely...not realizing their arm just flew off with the bat...and none of them really needing protective athletic cups...oh, c'mon...you KNOW what steroids do, right? Hey, I'd actually WATCH those games. Talk about the agony of defeat...in the long run.
Granted Babe Ruth was like 98 when he retired in 1935...okay, so he was only 40...he looked older if you ask me...but Barry is almost 42. He's no spring chicken by any stretch...even a 7th inning one...and something tells me he's not going to surpass Hank's record. Something tells me he shouldn't. Something tells me Pete Rose should be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame...but...that's a whole other blog I'm not going to get into any time soon.
A little something to keep in mind...Bonds will pull in $20 million this year alone (the fourth highest salary in baseball...and the highest paid Yankees player), not including bonuses and endorsement deals. In 1932, Ruth's salary was $80,000 a year...adjusted to today's standards, that would be roughly $1,000,000. Steroids, incidentally, were invented in the 1930s.
16 May 2006
"Click It or Ticket"..."being held" for two weeks only
"Click It or Ticket." Sure it's cute and fun to say...but is it working? Are they really getting the right statistics when they tally those "Oh, seat belt use has increased by X amount since we've implemented this policy" figures up? Let's take a look, shall we?
A policeman pulls someone over for running a red light or speeding. What's the first thing they do...other than hide the gun if this is happening in LA? Well, if they're not wearing a seatbelt, you can bet they reach over and put it on. There's some kind of seatbelt or DUI check-point up ahead (which, I've only ever witnessed once in my life and it was in Herndon, Virginia)...uh oh...let's all put our seatbelts on. "Well, seems everyone's all buckled up in this vehicle...carry on." Oh, those tactics work so well don't they? Of COURSE seatbelt use is up if you go by those things. How about we consider a couple more stealthier ways to find out...and possibly save some lives plus get some revenue in for the towns while we're at it.
Cameras at toll booths. Case in point...we had recently gone over the toll bridge (or is it just a road really) that crosses from Prattville into Montgomery, and in front of us was a car with two adults in the two front seats and a child bopping around in the front between them and a couple more in the back, clearly all not restrained. The child's actions in the front made Britney Spears' "baby-holding" driving fiasco look totally innocuous by comparison. We mentioned something about it to the toll booth guy, and he commented that he had once casually suggested to someone passing thru that perhaps they should buckle their children in. They complained...and he was warned never to do it again or it was his job. So, here's a guy, trying to do the right thing and he gets read the riot act. I think he should be able to press a button, take a photo and then pass it along to the proper authorities. Of course, after a while...people who never buckle their kids in will hear there are cameras at the toll booths and they will "click-it...to avoid the ticket"...then their kids will just un-pop themselves after the "all clear" signal is given. But at least it might catch the ones who don't even have baby seats IN their cars.
Cameras at school parking lots. You can't count the number of times I've seen people driving thru the pick-up line with their babies on their laps...and how many kids I see get into the front seat where they aren't supposed to be sitting due to the airbag...and how many ride off without any seatbelts on at all. And airbags exploding with their extreme force, even at a low-speed impact, can lead to decapitation. I told this fact to a parent one day whose little girl was in the front seat of the car while they were about to pull out. Oh...if looks could kill, I would be long dead. She promptly told me where to get off...and to mind my own business as it was HER child. Well, ya know what? I don't think that being a parent gives you carte blanche to play God with your child's life. That whole "I brought you into this world...and I can take you out" mentality just isn't appropriate here. In a 'Cosby' sitcom when "Cliff Huxtable" is lecturing "Theo" about something up in his bedroom...it's funny and fits...in a real life-or-death situation, it just SHOULDN'T apply.
I should be able, as a concerned individual, to report this person. There should be some type of hotline that people could call...oh, I realize the Montgomery police are busy...but perhaps someone in authority pulling this woman (and all those other infractors) over and giving her the 3rd degree MIGHT sink in. I bet she wouldn't tell the cop to butt out. Did you guess by now that I have a major issue with this subject when it comes to children? I certainly do.
First off, a child cannot make rational decisions about their safety inside a motor vehicle...the adult in the car makes and enforces the rules...and as such, they should be held 100% accountable for their actions. Whenever I drive children on field trips...without fail, there is always one...sometimes two, who do not put their seatbelt on or on correctly...and when confronted, I'm told "my parents don't make me wear them". Well, they wear them in my van or we don't move.
Secondly, do these non-seatbelt-wearing people have any clue the guilt they'd inflict on another person in case an accident happened? I'll explain this concept a little: If I were to somehow be party to an accident, either my fault or another's...and someone went flying thru the windshield or got all smashed up inside the car due to their not wearing proper restraints, I don't even want to think how I'd deal with it. I ran over a squirrel once and saw it flopping around in my rear-view mirror...I can't imagine dealing with the death of a human being...especially a child. No one has the right to subject someone to that when it possibly could be avoided. No one has the right to subject their own child (or someone else's) to the possibility of an increased death risk each time they get into the car by not enforcing seatbelt usage.
A new report due out Monday by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) states that more than 6 in 10 people between the ages of 8-44 who were killed inside a passenger vehicle were not restrained. (Okay, I have a little problem with that statement...if it's "more than 6 in 10"...is it 7? Is it 8? Or is it 6.25? You'd figure they'd be able to pinpoint it.) That's a whole lot of people not wearing a seatbelt if you ask me...much more than previously thought. The NHTSA figures 48 million people do not routinely use seatbelts when they are on the road.
The "Click It or Ticket" campaign kicks off May 22nd and runs thru June 4th...complete with roadside checks and their goal to boost seatbelt awareness. Well, maybe those advertisements need to show a little gore instead of a cutesy slogan...like those Meth ones do. Maybe a real accident-based commercial with a disturbing visual and the voiceover "I brought you into this world...and I can take you out" added...just might get the point across. Maybe.
A policeman pulls someone over for running a red light or speeding. What's the first thing they do...other than hide the gun if this is happening in LA? Well, if they're not wearing a seatbelt, you can bet they reach over and put it on. There's some kind of seatbelt or DUI check-point up ahead (which, I've only ever witnessed once in my life and it was in Herndon, Virginia)...uh oh...let's all put our seatbelts on. "Well, seems everyone's all buckled up in this vehicle...carry on." Oh, those tactics work so well don't they? Of COURSE seatbelt use is up if you go by those things. How about we consider a couple more stealthier ways to find out...and possibly save some lives plus get some revenue in for the towns while we're at it.
Cameras at toll booths. Case in point...we had recently gone over the toll bridge (or is it just a road really) that crosses from Prattville into Montgomery, and in front of us was a car with two adults in the two front seats and a child bopping around in the front between them and a couple more in the back, clearly all not restrained. The child's actions in the front made Britney Spears' "baby-holding" driving fiasco look totally innocuous by comparison. We mentioned something about it to the toll booth guy, and he commented that he had once casually suggested to someone passing thru that perhaps they should buckle their children in. They complained...and he was warned never to do it again or it was his job. So, here's a guy, trying to do the right thing and he gets read the riot act. I think he should be able to press a button, take a photo and then pass it along to the proper authorities. Of course, after a while...people who never buckle their kids in will hear there are cameras at the toll booths and they will "click-it...to avoid the ticket"...then their kids will just un-pop themselves after the "all clear" signal is given. But at least it might catch the ones who don't even have baby seats IN their cars.
Cameras at school parking lots. You can't count the number of times I've seen people driving thru the pick-up line with their babies on their laps...and how many kids I see get into the front seat where they aren't supposed to be sitting due to the airbag...and how many ride off without any seatbelts on at all. And airbags exploding with their extreme force, even at a low-speed impact, can lead to decapitation. I told this fact to a parent one day whose little girl was in the front seat of the car while they were about to pull out. Oh...if looks could kill, I would be long dead. She promptly told me where to get off...and to mind my own business as it was HER child. Well, ya know what? I don't think that being a parent gives you carte blanche to play God with your child's life. That whole "I brought you into this world...and I can take you out" mentality just isn't appropriate here. In a 'Cosby' sitcom when "Cliff Huxtable" is lecturing "Theo" about something up in his bedroom...it's funny and fits...in a real life-or-death situation, it just SHOULDN'T apply.
I should be able, as a concerned individual, to report this person. There should be some type of hotline that people could call...oh, I realize the Montgomery police are busy...but perhaps someone in authority pulling this woman (and all those other infractors) over and giving her the 3rd degree MIGHT sink in. I bet she wouldn't tell the cop to butt out. Did you guess by now that I have a major issue with this subject when it comes to children? I certainly do.
First off, a child cannot make rational decisions about their safety inside a motor vehicle...the adult in the car makes and enforces the rules...and as such, they should be held 100% accountable for their actions. Whenever I drive children on field trips...without fail, there is always one...sometimes two, who do not put their seatbelt on or on correctly...and when confronted, I'm told "my parents don't make me wear them". Well, they wear them in my van or we don't move.
Secondly, do these non-seatbelt-wearing people have any clue the guilt they'd inflict on another person in case an accident happened? I'll explain this concept a little: If I were to somehow be party to an accident, either my fault or another's...and someone went flying thru the windshield or got all smashed up inside the car due to their not wearing proper restraints, I don't even want to think how I'd deal with it. I ran over a squirrel once and saw it flopping around in my rear-view mirror...I can't imagine dealing with the death of a human being...especially a child. No one has the right to subject someone to that when it possibly could be avoided. No one has the right to subject their own child (or someone else's) to the possibility of an increased death risk each time they get into the car by not enforcing seatbelt usage.
A new report due out Monday by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) states that more than 6 in 10 people between the ages of 8-44 who were killed inside a passenger vehicle were not restrained. (Okay, I have a little problem with that statement...if it's "more than 6 in 10"...is it 7? Is it 8? Or is it 6.25? You'd figure they'd be able to pinpoint it.) That's a whole lot of people not wearing a seatbelt if you ask me...much more than previously thought. The NHTSA figures 48 million people do not routinely use seatbelts when they are on the road.
The "Click It or Ticket" campaign kicks off May 22nd and runs thru June 4th...complete with roadside checks and their goal to boost seatbelt awareness. Well, maybe those advertisements need to show a little gore instead of a cutesy slogan...like those Meth ones do. Maybe a real accident-based commercial with a disturbing visual and the voiceover "I brought you into this world...and I can take you out" added...just might get the point across. Maybe.
13 May 2006
I'm Game
Someone hacked into Paris Hilton's cellphone again? No need to...she's coming out with a mobile game...featuring herself and a "likeness"...and you can download it to your very own cellphone. How hot is that? Uh...tepid? That means "lukewarm" for all you Paris Hilton fans. Oh...c'mon...this woman has made millions (and like she really needed to make MORE money) being almost as dimwitted as Jessica Simpson. Speaking of dimwitted, did anyone witness Britney Spears reading David Letterman's Top Ten List on his show the other night during her "it's official, I'm pregnant again" public disclosure? First off, she should really take the gum out of her mouth when she speaks...it's not exactly classy...oh wait...this is Britney...carry on. Secondly, what were the odds she couldn't pronounce the word "Tamiflu" (yes, she actually asked Dave for his help) but had absolutely NO problem with "Viagra". Kevin? Kevin Federline...your secret's out. But back to Paris...
Now, supposedly Paris walked in all late to the big game launching at the Electronic Entertainment Expo in Los Angeles, and then botched up the name...introducing it as "Diamond Quest" instead of "Jewel Jam". Gameloft (the makers) covered it up later by saying the name they had plastered all over the place was just a "working title" and that Paris' announcement was indeed correct. See what money can do? She probably has enough money to download a ton of these to make it a best seller...and when things sell like crazy...crazy people buy them. Oh...c'mon again, it's a Paris Hilton cellphone game...I doubt people sitting in their astrophysics classes are going to be playing it. Anyway, she states they are coming out with a series of games, the first ones geared toward teens/t'weens and the later ones...people of all ages. Oh, great, she plans on being in the news for years to come.
Gameloft, ironically, is a Paris-based (that's Paris, France) gaming company. The French love Jerry Lewis. I thought that tidbit of information might help put this all into perspective.
I have a couple problems with all of this. My first being...WHY do companies make these people richer? Oh, I know celebrities sell things because everyone is all "Oooh Shaq shops at Radio Shack...I should, too". Michael Jordan eats Wheaties...I should, too. And these people get paid millions, especially in Japan (I bet they still love Tom Cruise there) to do these commercials. I think they'd make more money if they just put some regular guy in the ad and only paid him $400, but then they wouldn't be able to come up in the search when someone Googles "Michael Jordan".
My second problem is...why don't they make the celebrity video games that people would really like to play? Face it, who wants to play "Who can spend the most money while carting a ratdog in your Juicy Couture carrier?" when you could play "Smack Tom Cruise upside the head each time he mentions the words 'awesome' or 'Mission Impossible sequel'"? I woulda said "Scientology" but Tom might come here and jump up and down on my furniture in retaliation...not that he'd hit his head on my ceiling or anything...but I don't let my own kids jump on my sofa, I'm not about to let Tom. Oh...and while we're jumping...why not let David Blaine jump on the bandwagon as well and put out a game where you enclose him in something and then stick him in some ludicrous situation for a month. It would kinda be like a Tamagotchi...you have to turn the game on once in a while to make sure Blaine still is alive...but you don't have to worry about feeding him. Both sound like winners to me.
But until then...we'll always have Paris.
Now, supposedly Paris walked in all late to the big game launching at the Electronic Entertainment Expo in Los Angeles, and then botched up the name...introducing it as "Diamond Quest" instead of "Jewel Jam". Gameloft (the makers) covered it up later by saying the name they had plastered all over the place was just a "working title" and that Paris' announcement was indeed correct. See what money can do? She probably has enough money to download a ton of these to make it a best seller...and when things sell like crazy...crazy people buy them. Oh...c'mon again, it's a Paris Hilton cellphone game...I doubt people sitting in their astrophysics classes are going to be playing it. Anyway, she states they are coming out with a series of games, the first ones geared toward teens/t'weens and the later ones...people of all ages. Oh, great, she plans on being in the news for years to come.
Gameloft, ironically, is a Paris-based (that's Paris, France) gaming company. The French love Jerry Lewis. I thought that tidbit of information might help put this all into perspective.
I have a couple problems with all of this. My first being...WHY do companies make these people richer? Oh, I know celebrities sell things because everyone is all "Oooh Shaq shops at Radio Shack...I should, too". Michael Jordan eats Wheaties...I should, too. And these people get paid millions, especially in Japan (I bet they still love Tom Cruise there) to do these commercials. I think they'd make more money if they just put some regular guy in the ad and only paid him $400, but then they wouldn't be able to come up in the search when someone Googles "Michael Jordan".
My second problem is...why don't they make the celebrity video games that people would really like to play? Face it, who wants to play "Who can spend the most money while carting a ratdog in your Juicy Couture carrier?" when you could play "Smack Tom Cruise upside the head each time he mentions the words 'awesome' or 'Mission Impossible sequel'"? I woulda said "Scientology" but Tom might come here and jump up and down on my furniture in retaliation...not that he'd hit his head on my ceiling or anything...but I don't let my own kids jump on my sofa, I'm not about to let Tom. Oh...and while we're jumping...why not let David Blaine jump on the bandwagon as well and put out a game where you enclose him in something and then stick him in some ludicrous situation for a month. It would kinda be like a Tamagotchi...you have to turn the game on once in a while to make sure Blaine still is alive...but you don't have to worry about feeding him. Both sound like winners to me.
But until then...we'll always have Paris.
09 May 2006
To Sleep, Perchance to Drive...
"I don't remember...I don't recall...I got no memory of anything...anything at all." Three of you out there might recollect these lyrics from Peter Gabriel's "I Don't Remember" song...or maybe this will just be a prophetic legal defense in the future. And then a class-action lawsuit begins and I will never sleep again as "Sanofi-Aventis" goes out of business.
"Sanofi-Aventis" is a French-based pharmaceutical company, maker of 'the stuff that dreams are made of'...Ambien...altho I don't remember ever dreaming while ON Ambien. Hmmmmmm... Of the 26 million prescriptions that were filled last year in this country alone, a very small percentage claim they've done things like raided the refrigerator, had sex, and even driven around in their Ambien "coma", completely unaware...only to find out later on...usually when someone tells them. And once these lawsuits get going, you can bet that tons more people will suddenly "remember" that they've also done these things...and jump on the proverbial bandwagon.
My doctors tried to get me to try Ambien for a good four years before I finally consented...and only after I spoke with several people whose opinion I valued; I even perused the message boards before I started my nitely Ambien regimen. The commentary there read straight out of a Hitchcock film..."I only took half a tablet, I got up in the middle of the nite and hit my head on the sink and went back to bed...I didn't realize it until the next day when I woke up". "I had sex with my husband and he said it was the best ever...I don't remember it at all"...well, that's what we all say when we do things we ordinarily wouldn't...so I took that one rather skeptically. "I ate the raw chicken in my fridge...and I messed up the whole kitchen...this was the first time I took Ambien, too...maybe I should take a lower dosage because I must admit I slept quite well." The posts went on and on...even more entries than when I did a search for "transmission replacement for a '96 Dodge Grand Caravan". Reluctantly, I took my pill and got sleepy for the first time in my life...it was nearly heaven on Earth and I had met my maker...thank you...or should I say "merci am...bien", Sanofi-Aventis.
Now my prediction which I've been predicting for ages after reading all those comments years ago...which, because of all the hoopla going on lately...I'm figuring it's only a matter of days...Ambien daze...away, before someone kills someone and then blames it on the drug. Ambien is a hypnotic drug class...an amnesia-inducing effect if you will...that's why so many people who do wake up have no resulting memory of the events...you are in a trancelike state kinda like sleepwalking. A case which stands out in my mind, which I am sure is going to be found somewhat relevant in a future "homicide by Ambien" trial, is one I heard ages ago on one of those Dateline-type shows. A man, Kenneth Parks, got up in the middle of the nite, sleepwalked out to his car and sleepdrove to his in-laws, stabbed his mother-in-law to death and physically assaulted his father-in-law...then got back into his car, noticed blood and cuts on his hands and turned himself into the police stating he thought he "might have killed some people". He was later acquitted of all charges based on something known as "homicidal somnambulism". He's also not the only person who has killed and 'sleep'walked off scot-free.
So, while a goodly portion of people swallow down their pills tonite...I'm wondering if some legal team's dream jury will someday soon swallow an Ambien-induced murder.
"Sanofi-Aventis" is a French-based pharmaceutical company, maker of 'the stuff that dreams are made of'...Ambien...altho I don't remember ever dreaming while ON Ambien. Hmmmmmm... Of the 26 million prescriptions that were filled last year in this country alone, a very small percentage claim they've done things like raided the refrigerator, had sex, and even driven around in their Ambien "coma", completely unaware...only to find out later on...usually when someone tells them. And once these lawsuits get going, you can bet that tons more people will suddenly "remember" that they've also done these things...and jump on the proverbial bandwagon.
My doctors tried to get me to try Ambien for a good four years before I finally consented...and only after I spoke with several people whose opinion I valued; I even perused the message boards before I started my nitely Ambien regimen. The commentary there read straight out of a Hitchcock film..."I only took half a tablet, I got up in the middle of the nite and hit my head on the sink and went back to bed...I didn't realize it until the next day when I woke up". "I had sex with my husband and he said it was the best ever...I don't remember it at all"...well, that's what we all say when we do things we ordinarily wouldn't...so I took that one rather skeptically. "I ate the raw chicken in my fridge...and I messed up the whole kitchen...this was the first time I took Ambien, too...maybe I should take a lower dosage because I must admit I slept quite well." The posts went on and on...even more entries than when I did a search for "transmission replacement for a '96 Dodge Grand Caravan". Reluctantly, I took my pill and got sleepy for the first time in my life...it was nearly heaven on Earth and I had met my maker...thank you...or should I say "merci am...bien", Sanofi-Aventis.
Now my prediction which I've been predicting for ages after reading all those comments years ago...which, because of all the hoopla going on lately...I'm figuring it's only a matter of days...Ambien daze...away, before someone kills someone and then blames it on the drug. Ambien is a hypnotic drug class...an amnesia-inducing effect if you will...that's why so many people who do wake up have no resulting memory of the events...you are in a trancelike state kinda like sleepwalking. A case which stands out in my mind, which I am sure is going to be found somewhat relevant in a future "homicide by Ambien" trial, is one I heard ages ago on one of those Dateline-type shows. A man, Kenneth Parks, got up in the middle of the nite, sleepwalked out to his car and sleepdrove to his in-laws, stabbed his mother-in-law to death and physically assaulted his father-in-law...then got back into his car, noticed blood and cuts on his hands and turned himself into the police stating he thought he "might have killed some people". He was later acquitted of all charges based on something known as "homicidal somnambulism". He's also not the only person who has killed and 'sleep'walked off scot-free.
So, while a goodly portion of people swallow down their pills tonite...I'm wondering if some legal team's dream jury will someday soon swallow an Ambien-induced murder.
06 May 2006
I'm Beginning to Sense a Theme Here...
The things we do when we are young...well, the way I see it...the more things you've done when you were young, the more you can tell your children "don't do what I did when I was your age". And then you can tell them what you did and they look at you and go "yeah, right...like YOU did THAT"...and that brings us to the prom. Well, it brings us to other things, but for now it's just the prom.
Oh...it's not that bad...it's really not. Okay...it is...I confess. I forgot all about it..and when I remembered, I was all "I cannot believe I DID THAT". More of that later...what really was the impetus of this whole blog was yet another article (I've read a few this year) which addressed the fact prom expenses are getting way out of hand. Tickets, dresses, tuxes, dinners, limo rentals, etc...the costs are nearly as much as that senior class trip. The article I read today regarding Notre Dame High School in Sherman Oaks, California, stated that tickets to the prom...and I'm guessing for two...are $130. But it'll cost $0 for a limo as they are going to pile the attendees into buses to take them the 50-minute trip to the Long Beach Aquarium where it's being held. Oh yeah...that's awfully impressive..."C'mon honey, I'll let you sit by the window on the way back...and maybe we can get everyone to sing '9,999 Bottles of Beer On the Wall' on the way up so it won't seem like 50 minutes". Good luck...it'll seem like four hours.
I remember last year, watching a "Today Show" episode showing prom dresses. Prom dresses straight off the streets of New York...and I'm not talking about the ones on 5th Avenue. Who, I thought, would ever let their daughter dress like THAT??? They made J Lo's green Versace dress she wore to the Academy Awards that one year...oh you remember it...the one that was held on by Velcro or super-glue or something...look more like a Communion dress in comparison. These dresses were incredibly...oh what's the word I'm looking for...let's just say they looked like you'd be making more wearing it (or taking it off ) than what you paid for it. Now, I remember my prom...and all the proms before and since...every single guy there figures he's getting lucky that nite...well, except for the ones on that 50-minute bus ride...but to see your corsage taking up more space than the material itself, must have been a hormonal free-for-all. "Uh...I'd pin it on you, Mary Lou...but I'm afraid it would distract from your massive décolletage...plus there's nowhere TO pin it on to begin with." And the parents, gleefully taking photos and admonishing the daughter..."Now...don't you do anything I wouldn't do". "Hmmmm, okay, Mom...but remember, YOU let me buy this dress".
Well, I had those girls beat...in a way...I wore two nitegowns to my prom. I looked and looked for a dress...but they were all typical prom-looking frou-frou, bridesmaid-looking frosting-on-the-cake concoctions...so "look at me I'm a prom dress...you can't possibly wear me ever every again...yet you paid $$$ on me"...and I didn't want to do that...so I got creative. I had always loved Victorian dresses...and had an extremely pretty and ornately embroidered top to one of those bustle dresses that my mother had bought for me from an antique shop . One that evokes the pre-turn-of-the-century glamour of all those films Helena Bonham Carter starred in before she started going out with Tim Burton...rather "A Room With a View"-ish garb...but, my dilemma...I only had the top. What to do? What to do? Inspiration struck me as I was digging thru my stuff. I always loved negligees reminiscent of the type Jean Harlow wore in her films...and yes, I wore them from about the age of 15...I so liked the golden age of Hollywood as a child...therefore I had a few. So, with my black Victorian top and a long black slip of a nitegown under it...my prom dress began to take shape...but it still needed something. I ran out to the mall and found another...one which had yards and yards of sheer black fabric at the skirt...it would work perfectly...and it did...my black slip nitegown under the sheer one and the top over them both. And no one ever suspected I was wearing two nitegowns to the prom...and how many people can say they did that...and still got to wear them after?
Oh...I nearly forgot again. As for my horrible deed done at the prom...and I do think it was quite the 'not nice thing to do'...I attended the prom with one guy...and left with another. And for the life of me I can't remember the name of the guy I left with...and I've got a pretty good memory. Needless to say, my date didn't get "lucky" that nite (at least not with me) and neither did "what's his name".
Oh...it's not that bad...it's really not. Okay...it is...I confess. I forgot all about it..and when I remembered, I was all "I cannot believe I DID THAT". More of that later...what really was the impetus of this whole blog was yet another article (I've read a few this year) which addressed the fact prom expenses are getting way out of hand. Tickets, dresses, tuxes, dinners, limo rentals, etc...the costs are nearly as much as that senior class trip. The article I read today regarding Notre Dame High School in Sherman Oaks, California, stated that tickets to the prom...and I'm guessing for two...are $130. But it'll cost $0 for a limo as they are going to pile the attendees into buses to take them the 50-minute trip to the Long Beach Aquarium where it's being held. Oh yeah...that's awfully impressive..."C'mon honey, I'll let you sit by the window on the way back...and maybe we can get everyone to sing '9,999 Bottles of Beer On the Wall' on the way up so it won't seem like 50 minutes". Good luck...it'll seem like four hours.
I remember last year, watching a "Today Show" episode showing prom dresses. Prom dresses straight off the streets of New York...and I'm not talking about the ones on 5th Avenue. Who, I thought, would ever let their daughter dress like THAT??? They made J Lo's green Versace dress she wore to the Academy Awards that one year...oh you remember it...the one that was held on by Velcro or super-glue or something...look more like a Communion dress in comparison. These dresses were incredibly...oh what's the word I'm looking for...let's just say they looked like you'd be making more wearing it (or taking it off ) than what you paid for it. Now, I remember my prom...and all the proms before and since...every single guy there figures he's getting lucky that nite...well, except for the ones on that 50-minute bus ride...but to see your corsage taking up more space than the material itself, must have been a hormonal free-for-all. "Uh...I'd pin it on you, Mary Lou...but I'm afraid it would distract from your massive décolletage...plus there's nowhere TO pin it on to begin with." And the parents, gleefully taking photos and admonishing the daughter..."Now...don't you do anything I wouldn't do". "Hmmmm, okay, Mom...but remember, YOU let me buy this dress".
Well, I had those girls beat...in a way...I wore two nitegowns to my prom. I looked and looked for a dress...but they were all typical prom-looking frou-frou, bridesmaid-looking frosting-on-the-cake concoctions...so "look at me I'm a prom dress...you can't possibly wear me ever every again...yet you paid $$$ on me"...and I didn't want to do that...so I got creative. I had always loved Victorian dresses...and had an extremely pretty and ornately embroidered top to one of those bustle dresses that my mother had bought for me from an antique shop . One that evokes the pre-turn-of-the-century glamour of all those films Helena Bonham Carter starred in before she started going out with Tim Burton...rather "A Room With a View"-ish garb...but, my dilemma...I only had the top. What to do? What to do? Inspiration struck me as I was digging thru my stuff. I always loved negligees reminiscent of the type Jean Harlow wore in her films...and yes, I wore them from about the age of 15...I so liked the golden age of Hollywood as a child...therefore I had a few. So, with my black Victorian top and a long black slip of a nitegown under it...my prom dress began to take shape...but it still needed something. I ran out to the mall and found another...one which had yards and yards of sheer black fabric at the skirt...it would work perfectly...and it did...my black slip nitegown under the sheer one and the top over them both. And no one ever suspected I was wearing two nitegowns to the prom...and how many people can say they did that...and still got to wear them after?
Oh...I nearly forgot again. As for my horrible deed done at the prom...and I do think it was quite the 'not nice thing to do'...I attended the prom with one guy...and left with another. And for the life of me I can't remember the name of the guy I left with...and I've got a pretty good memory. Needless to say, my date didn't get "lucky" that nite (at least not with me) and neither did "what's his name".
04 May 2006
The State of the Reunion Show
"Catfights and Caviar"?? That's the best title they could come up with for the Dynasty reunion show they aired last nite? No wonder Aaron Spelling didn't have anything to do with it. Personally I was pulling for "Death Becomes Her II"...but I guess they put this together without thinking much...kinda like Linda Evans' plastic surgeon's technique.
Oh...did you NOT see her? Now I did some IMDb-ing last nite...Linda Evans was born in 1942, Joan Collins in 1933, and John Forsythe in 1918. Why Linda didn't ask Joan for a surgeon's name is beyond me. Now, even with a soft focus lens and miles of gauze to shoot it thru...Joan and John, almost 73 and 88, respectively, looked much better than she did. But, no...she had to ask Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett for a recommendation. And her and Joan were all kissy-kissy..."Oh I loved you, too...was there anything better than filming our scenes together??" all the while you could see Joan staring her down thinking how much better she's holding up for being nine years older.
I must say...when Dynasty was on...I rooted for Alexis...Joan's character. She had much more depth than Linda Evans...and she wore those clothes just so much better. Shoulder pads, when you are built like a linebacker...aren't flattering. I'm sure Nolan Miller saw a few Joan Crawford movies in his day...but hey, it was the 80s and clothes and big hair ruled. I had big hair...and I'm waiting for shoulder pads to come back into style. There IS no "style" anymore...it's just "whatever". Maybe there needs to be another Dynasty-type show on instead of all those reality ones. A little fantasy isn't a bad thing.
Who didn't want to trade their regular dysfunctional family in for a filthy-rich dysfunctional family? "You didn't unload the dishwasher...again???" surely pales with the antics the Carringtons and Colbys got into. We had no lily pond to push each other into...we had to just slam doors when we got mad...we had no priceless antique vases to fling...and no one ever bothered having plastic surgery to try to impersonate me a la that terrible Linda Evans aka Krystal Carrington thing they had for a while there. Come to think of it, I bet no one wants to impersonate her now. Ouch...meow...claws back in.
So...they had a few of the principal characters back for the reunion...the guy who played Adam Carrington, the guy who played Blake and Alexis' gay son, Pamela Sue Martin who was the spoiled daughter character, and Catherine Oxenberg, who was the focus of THE worst nite-time soap opera debacle rivalling that inane Dallas "Bobby was in the shower/just all a dream" season...I'm speaking of the "Moldavia wedding" carnage. And I think they had someone else on...I forgot who...maybe they didn't. Then, at the very end they paraded John Forsythe out like some living fossil trophy..."Oooh look at him...he's still alive...we managed to pull this thing off before they all died"...they even had the bad taste to have Joan and Linda say "I thought YOU died" whilst clinking their champagne glasses. Oh this was abysmally horrendous dialogue worthy of...um...oh...any reunion show, really.
Like going down the proverbial receiving line, one-by-one they all agreed they owed their fame and a huge debt of gratitude to John Forsythe...Joan Collins bit her tongue as she knew damned well they owed it all to her...John was the only one who admitted it...but, like Bette Davis when she made the talk-show circuit when she was very old, years after "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?"...he could say whatever he wanted regardless of what anyone thought...he reached the celebrity age of reason. I admire that in a person.
Speaking of Bette Davis and "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" did you ever notice her scary make-up in it? Oh, and did I mention Linda Evans?
Oh...did you NOT see her? Now I did some IMDb-ing last nite...Linda Evans was born in 1942, Joan Collins in 1933, and John Forsythe in 1918. Why Linda didn't ask Joan for a surgeon's name is beyond me. Now, even with a soft focus lens and miles of gauze to shoot it thru...Joan and John, almost 73 and 88, respectively, looked much better than she did. But, no...she had to ask Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett for a recommendation. And her and Joan were all kissy-kissy..."Oh I loved you, too...was there anything better than filming our scenes together??" all the while you could see Joan staring her down thinking how much better she's holding up for being nine years older.
I must say...when Dynasty was on...I rooted for Alexis...Joan's character. She had much more depth than Linda Evans...and she wore those clothes just so much better. Shoulder pads, when you are built like a linebacker...aren't flattering. I'm sure Nolan Miller saw a few Joan Crawford movies in his day...but hey, it was the 80s and clothes and big hair ruled. I had big hair...and I'm waiting for shoulder pads to come back into style. There IS no "style" anymore...it's just "whatever". Maybe there needs to be another Dynasty-type show on instead of all those reality ones. A little fantasy isn't a bad thing.
Who didn't want to trade their regular dysfunctional family in for a filthy-rich dysfunctional family? "You didn't unload the dishwasher...again???" surely pales with the antics the Carringtons and Colbys got into. We had no lily pond to push each other into...we had to just slam doors when we got mad...we had no priceless antique vases to fling...and no one ever bothered having plastic surgery to try to impersonate me a la that terrible Linda Evans aka Krystal Carrington thing they had for a while there. Come to think of it, I bet no one wants to impersonate her now. Ouch...meow...claws back in.
So...they had a few of the principal characters back for the reunion...the guy who played Adam Carrington, the guy who played Blake and Alexis' gay son, Pamela Sue Martin who was the spoiled daughter character, and Catherine Oxenberg, who was the focus of THE worst nite-time soap opera debacle rivalling that inane Dallas "Bobby was in the shower/just all a dream" season...I'm speaking of the "Moldavia wedding" carnage. And I think they had someone else on...I forgot who...maybe they didn't. Then, at the very end they paraded John Forsythe out like some living fossil trophy..."Oooh look at him...he's still alive...we managed to pull this thing off before they all died"...they even had the bad taste to have Joan and Linda say "I thought YOU died" whilst clinking their champagne glasses. Oh this was abysmally horrendous dialogue worthy of...um...oh...any reunion show, really.
Like going down the proverbial receiving line, one-by-one they all agreed they owed their fame and a huge debt of gratitude to John Forsythe...Joan Collins bit her tongue as she knew damned well they owed it all to her...John was the only one who admitted it...but, like Bette Davis when she made the talk-show circuit when she was very old, years after "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?"...he could say whatever he wanted regardless of what anyone thought...he reached the celebrity age of reason. I admire that in a person.
Speaking of Bette Davis and "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" did you ever notice her scary make-up in it? Oh, and did I mention Linda Evans?
02 May 2006
Another One Writes the Dust
The past few weeks have not been banner weeks for writers...well, at least a handful of them. First we had "The DaVinci Code" violation...Dan Brown was cleared for wrongdoing and sent on his merry way while the two other guys who wrote the other book...you know...the one that, henceforth, will be infamously known as "the other book"...will be destined to go down in history like the Walter Hunt/Elias Howe/Isaac Singer sewing machine patent fiasco. WHO is Walter Hunt you ask? Exactly.
Enter one Harvard University sophomore, 19-year-old Kaavya Viswanathan, whose two-book deal with Little, Brown and Co., got pulled off shelves faster than the average person can spell the word "plagiarism". Now, I'm no Harvard grad...but you can bet I knew from the 3rd grade that when you COPY something from the encyclopedia, like when you are doing that essay on Lincoln, you PARAPHRASE something...you rewrite it...you do everything but copy it verbatim. So, she lifts portions of Megan McCafferty's book and claims she musta, in essence, "just remembered them too well"...oh sorry, the legal term they used was "internalized"...she inadvertently "internalized" McCafferty's words and just went ahead and wrote them down as her own. Oh...sorry again...at least change the state from NEW JERSEY to something a little less obvious...maybe New Hampshire? Maybe I need to write a book about New Jersey, too...yes, about a girl from Jersey who reads about a girl half her age who gets a two-book deal who goes to Harvard and apparently doesn't have the sense to change the facts enough, all the while shopping while her boyfriend, if she woulda had one, would've pointed this all out to her...REPEATEDLY. "Hello...Little, Brown and Co....I'm definitely available...and I know how to 'Google'."
Exit one Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist whose job at the Los Angeles Times writing a column and Internet blog is now history. Michael Hiltzik was caught "self-blogging" on his "Golden State" blog. What I mean by that is that he surreptitiously "pretended" to be someone else commenting on his own blog. Now I didn't go TO his blog...IF it's even still there...but something tells me he knew all too well the comeback line for whatever quips he came up with. Hey, prize-toting dude...that's totally unethical...do you NOT have a conscience? Do you not have any morals...do you not have any sense to NOT get caught?? How the heck do you get caught on your OWN blog faking your own comments? Did you not have the forethought to maybe use a computer that wasn't AT your desk IN your office? Maybe like signing onto your kid's computer or something? Maybe use some guy's computer at Starbucks when he goes to the bathroom? Oh, he says he only did it once...at his blog...but admitted to commenting on other blogs about his blog and newspaper. Something tells me Mr. Hiltzik wasn't a Harvard grad...hmmm....or was he? Ironically, his Pulitzer came from a series of articles he co-wrote with reporter, Chuck Phillips, on exposing corruption in the entertainment industry. "Yo, Chuck...I got yer next Pulitzer right here!"
So, I anxiously await the next writer to go down...because that puts ME that much closer to getting that elusive book deal...or cushy newspaper job. "Hey, LA Times people...are you reading this?"
Enter one Harvard University sophomore, 19-year-old Kaavya Viswanathan, whose two-book deal with Little, Brown and Co., got pulled off shelves faster than the average person can spell the word "plagiarism". Now, I'm no Harvard grad...but you can bet I knew from the 3rd grade that when you COPY something from the encyclopedia, like when you are doing that essay on Lincoln, you PARAPHRASE something...you rewrite it...you do everything but copy it verbatim. So, she lifts portions of Megan McCafferty's book and claims she musta, in essence, "just remembered them too well"...oh sorry, the legal term they used was "internalized"...she inadvertently "internalized" McCafferty's words and just went ahead and wrote them down as her own. Oh...sorry again...at least change the state from NEW JERSEY to something a little less obvious...maybe New Hampshire? Maybe I need to write a book about New Jersey, too...yes, about a girl from Jersey who reads about a girl half her age who gets a two-book deal who goes to Harvard and apparently doesn't have the sense to change the facts enough, all the while shopping while her boyfriend, if she woulda had one, would've pointed this all out to her...REPEATEDLY. "Hello...Little, Brown and Co....I'm definitely available...and I know how to 'Google'."
Exit one Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist whose job at the Los Angeles Times writing a column and Internet blog is now history. Michael Hiltzik was caught "self-blogging" on his "Golden State" blog. What I mean by that is that he surreptitiously "pretended" to be someone else commenting on his own blog. Now I didn't go TO his blog...IF it's even still there...but something tells me he knew all too well the comeback line for whatever quips he came up with. Hey, prize-toting dude...that's totally unethical...do you NOT have a conscience? Do you not have any morals...do you not have any sense to NOT get caught?? How the heck do you get caught on your OWN blog faking your own comments? Did you not have the forethought to maybe use a computer that wasn't AT your desk IN your office? Maybe like signing onto your kid's computer or something? Maybe use some guy's computer at Starbucks when he goes to the bathroom? Oh, he says he only did it once...at his blog...but admitted to commenting on other blogs about his blog and newspaper. Something tells me Mr. Hiltzik wasn't a Harvard grad...hmmm....or was he? Ironically, his Pulitzer came from a series of articles he co-wrote with reporter, Chuck Phillips, on exposing corruption in the entertainment industry. "Yo, Chuck...I got yer next Pulitzer right here!"
So, I anxiously await the next writer to go down...because that puts ME that much closer to getting that elusive book deal...or cushy newspaper job. "Hey, LA Times people...are you reading this?"
01 May 2006
Dog Day Afternoon
Seems Montgomery went to the dogs this weekend and no one even noticed.
There was a dog show this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at the Garrett Coliseum...and by the looks of it at the time that I went...no one got the word. And I went when they judged the dogs...you'd have figured the biggest turnout would have been then. It was the three of us and 7 other people...all the rest were associated with the contestants themselves it seems.
Is it any wonder? I didn't see it advertised in Petsmart, Pet Supplies Plus, the news channels...and I can't speak for the paper as I didn't look in it. How I found out about it was a banner strung up on the corner of Redland Road and Rte 231 at the gas station there. That's it...I didn't see it anywhere else...and I almost forgot about it, until today. Seems I wasn't alone...and it's a pity as it was free admission. Not too many things you can do that are out of the ordinary, legal and family-oriented that are free nowadays. And this was definitely one of them.
Okay, so it wasn't the Westminster Dog Show...CNN wasn't in attendance..."Rufus" the Bull Terrier wasn't in attendance...and if he were, no one would have known. You see...there was no announcer calling out information like "This is Grand Champion Master Snozzle of Arcadia Land of Pretoria...also known as Snozzy...he's a Hungarian Puli and is being handled by Kay Lemming...the proud owners being Dr. Tom Katzenberg and his wife, Missy". So...the dogs and their handlers went around the little arena while the side arena's tape was being pulled up. Distractions were noteworthy here...seeing as this was my first "show"...I'm not certain if they are in the larger shows. Something tells me the Department of Corrections guys walking around in their white uniforms are not standard at Westminster's show. The only standards you will see there are of the Poodle, et. al., variety. But this one wasn't that snobby.
No one balked as we came in during the presentation of the Working Group class of dogs...and we went up straight to the judging area to stand around to see the dogs. No one asked us for credentials...no one asked if we had a hidden cat in our pocket to disrupt the goings-on...no one from the media panned on us when we walked in thinking we "were someone". The only cameras I saw were more of the cell phone variety...and the "Best of Show" ribbon looked like it was chewed on by the previous winner.
But there were fancy dog breeds there...not just some guy and his Labrador mix and some woman who tried to look like Paris Hilton carting her ratdog around talking to it. Okay...there was this one woman who was talking baby-talk to her Chihuahua...but she was very nice and stopped to chat with us a while. And people were primping their Shih Tzu's and poofing out their Poodles...hairspray and combs were flying frantically as this was, by all accounts, a real dog show...and the people and dogs took it seriously. There were breeds of dogs as diverse as Schipperke, Saluki, and even a Hairless Chinese Crested...oh get your mind out of the gutter...it's a DOG. Maybe if they would have played that angle up...it would have had a bigger turnout. Perhaps next year they'll get a bit creative with the advertising and we'll see this: "Bitches galore and Mexican Hairlesses...all under ONE roof!" Now THAT might pack them in...even if they eventually find out they're just a bunch of "dogs".
But try explaining that one to the wife and see if you still don't end up in the doghouse.
There was a dog show this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at the Garrett Coliseum...and by the looks of it at the time that I went...no one got the word. And I went when they judged the dogs...you'd have figured the biggest turnout would have been then. It was the three of us and 7 other people...all the rest were associated with the contestants themselves it seems.
Is it any wonder? I didn't see it advertised in Petsmart, Pet Supplies Plus, the news channels...and I can't speak for the paper as I didn't look in it. How I found out about it was a banner strung up on the corner of Redland Road and Rte 231 at the gas station there. That's it...I didn't see it anywhere else...and I almost forgot about it, until today. Seems I wasn't alone...and it's a pity as it was free admission. Not too many things you can do that are out of the ordinary, legal and family-oriented that are free nowadays. And this was definitely one of them.
Okay, so it wasn't the Westminster Dog Show...CNN wasn't in attendance..."Rufus" the Bull Terrier wasn't in attendance...and if he were, no one would have known. You see...there was no announcer calling out information like "This is Grand Champion Master Snozzle of Arcadia Land of Pretoria...also known as Snozzy...he's a Hungarian Puli and is being handled by Kay Lemming...the proud owners being Dr. Tom Katzenberg and his wife, Missy". So...the dogs and their handlers went around the little arena while the side arena's tape was being pulled up. Distractions were noteworthy here...seeing as this was my first "show"...I'm not certain if they are in the larger shows. Something tells me the Department of Corrections guys walking around in their white uniforms are not standard at Westminster's show. The only standards you will see there are of the Poodle, et. al., variety. But this one wasn't that snobby.
No one balked as we came in during the presentation of the Working Group class of dogs...and we went up straight to the judging area to stand around to see the dogs. No one asked us for credentials...no one asked if we had a hidden cat in our pocket to disrupt the goings-on...no one from the media panned on us when we walked in thinking we "were someone". The only cameras I saw were more of the cell phone variety...and the "Best of Show" ribbon looked like it was chewed on by the previous winner.
But there were fancy dog breeds there...not just some guy and his Labrador mix and some woman who tried to look like Paris Hilton carting her ratdog around talking to it. Okay...there was this one woman who was talking baby-talk to her Chihuahua...but she was very nice and stopped to chat with us a while. And people were primping their Shih Tzu's and poofing out their Poodles...hairspray and combs were flying frantically as this was, by all accounts, a real dog show...and the people and dogs took it seriously. There were breeds of dogs as diverse as Schipperke, Saluki, and even a Hairless Chinese Crested...oh get your mind out of the gutter...it's a DOG. Maybe if they would have played that angle up...it would have had a bigger turnout. Perhaps next year they'll get a bit creative with the advertising and we'll see this: "Bitches galore and Mexican Hairlesses...all under ONE roof!" Now THAT might pack them in...even if they eventually find out they're just a bunch of "dogs".
But try explaining that one to the wife and see if you still don't end up in the doghouse.
28 April 2006
Half Daze
Whose half-brained idea was it who came up with half days at school? Did someone decide they'd stick it to the people who go back to sleep after they drop their children off? Did they get mad at the people who made more money than them and figure "Well if we throw in six half days a year...they'll have to either take the whole day off or leave at lunchtime...and that might get them fired...then they'll have no recourse other than to work at a school for what *I* make and that'll teach them to make more money than me." Or did they plain not think the whole thing out to start with? I'm betting on that one.
Now if you are like me...and those 10 people out there can sympathize...but I don't ever get tired. I have this whole "reset" thing I do. It goes something like this: Once in a while I'll actually get tired...and if I don't act on this 10-15 minute threshold of time...my window of opportunity...my portal to sleepiness, as it were...I "reset" and get wide awake again. And my whole life I've never been able to sleep the "regular" time other people do...I used to just lie there and go "Oh...2:00 a.m"....toss toss..."Oh...3:00 a.m."...etc., until I had to get up at 6:00 to go to school or work. So...since I don't work, I don't even bother to go to sleep or try...until after my kids go to school. Then it typically takes me a couple hours to fall asleep...that puts it at about 10-11:00-ish...then I don't have to get up until around 2:00 to get them at 3:00. So, this half day thing really puts a crimp in MY sleep schedule.
But I take Ambien now or I don't sleep...and sometimes it kicks in quickly and 15 minutes later my typing is getting kinda wonky...the computer screen changes from flat to rounded and I realize I should probably just call it a nite. Other times, three hours later and nothing. That's what usually happens...so that's why I'm not going to bother taking one tonite as I'll be driving in one of those Ambien-induced hypnotic trances you've been hearing so much about (hey, there's a future blog idea)...and undoubtedly eating something at the same time without realizing it. But now back to the half day issue I have such an issue with.
I cannot be the only one this half-day thing displaces...and each time they have one at my daughter's school they never have after-school care...so it's not like these working people can just take advantage of that. No...they have to leave work early or not go in at all. So, considering this whole premise here, wouldn't it be logical that the school would either make it a full day...or have the WHOLE day off? Oh, I know the concept of "sleeping in" is lost on the majority of people here in Alabama (at least everyone I've ever spoken with)...I think the whole state wakes up all nice and chipper about the time I turn off the television to go TO bed. But there are SOME people who are from out of state who live here who have actually slept in on weekends...and maybe they'd welcome the opportunity to do it IF they had the whole day off.
So, either way...with or without taking Ambien, I'll be going off half-asleep to pick my daughter up tomorrow...and you can bet there's a whole bunch of people who won't begin to hear the half of it for taking off, too.
Now if you are like me...and those 10 people out there can sympathize...but I don't ever get tired. I have this whole "reset" thing I do. It goes something like this: Once in a while I'll actually get tired...and if I don't act on this 10-15 minute threshold of time...my window of opportunity...my portal to sleepiness, as it were...I "reset" and get wide awake again. And my whole life I've never been able to sleep the "regular" time other people do...I used to just lie there and go "Oh...2:00 a.m"....toss toss..."Oh...3:00 a.m."...etc., until I had to get up at 6:00 to go to school or work. So...since I don't work, I don't even bother to go to sleep or try...until after my kids go to school. Then it typically takes me a couple hours to fall asleep...that puts it at about 10-11:00-ish...then I don't have to get up until around 2:00 to get them at 3:00. So, this half day thing really puts a crimp in MY sleep schedule.
But I take Ambien now or I don't sleep...and sometimes it kicks in quickly and 15 minutes later my typing is getting kinda wonky...the computer screen changes from flat to rounded and I realize I should probably just call it a nite. Other times, three hours later and nothing. That's what usually happens...so that's why I'm not going to bother taking one tonite as I'll be driving in one of those Ambien-induced hypnotic trances you've been hearing so much about (hey, there's a future blog idea)...and undoubtedly eating something at the same time without realizing it. But now back to the half day issue I have such an issue with.
I cannot be the only one this half-day thing displaces...and each time they have one at my daughter's school they never have after-school care...so it's not like these working people can just take advantage of that. No...they have to leave work early or not go in at all. So, considering this whole premise here, wouldn't it be logical that the school would either make it a full day...or have the WHOLE day off? Oh, I know the concept of "sleeping in" is lost on the majority of people here in Alabama (at least everyone I've ever spoken with)...I think the whole state wakes up all nice and chipper about the time I turn off the television to go TO bed. But there are SOME people who are from out of state who live here who have actually slept in on weekends...and maybe they'd welcome the opportunity to do it IF they had the whole day off.
So, either way...with or without taking Ambien, I'll be going off half-asleep to pick my daughter up tomorrow...and you can bet there's a whole bunch of people who won't begin to hear the half of it for taking off, too.
26 April 2006
Me Afraid...Me Very Afraid
Long before there were disclaimers on television warning about content, there was "Night Gallery". In the early 70's, "Night Gallery" routinely spooked adult viewers, but to a child of approximately 10-years-old, it was downright frightening...and I think I owe the onset of my fear of scary films to none other than Rod Serling. Rod, whose scariest feature nowadays if he came on television would be the fact he's smoking a cigarette, left an indelible mark on me.
I remember in my carefree youth watching "Lassie", "The Wonderful World of Disney", "The Brady Bunch" and then one unsuspecting nite, an episode of "Night Gallery" which scared the bejeebies out of me. It was one where a little girl befriends this "thing" she finds, this seaweed-type monster that follows her home, kills her friend that she's having a tiff with, and then in the end she winds up weeping openly over its stone-encased carcass, proclaiming her affinity and affection for it. Oh...I've watched it since and it's totally mundane, but to a child who has to go to sleep...alone in bed in a house next to the woods...oh it CAN come and get you...and it will. I had nitemares well up until the time I stupidly agreed to see "Halloween" at the movie theatre in Lumberton, New Jersey, with my girlfriend. Lumberton, you see...is just a hop, skip and a 'jump on top of your car' from Haddonfield, NJ. Haddonfield is where "Halloween" takes place...never mind it takes place in Illinois...all I remembered was seeing that "Haddonfield" sign...and the realization we were only a few miles from one just like it. Even the IMDb states in their Halloween "trivia" section that Haddonfield, NJ is the home of their screenwriter, Debra Hill. A fact that I didn't learn about until recently...talk about eerie, huh?
Oh, I was okay after the film...walking out to the parking lot...until we got into my car. Remember the scene where Michael Myers is on top of the car? Well...envision me going down Rte 38 (let's just say "our I-85") and suddenly thinking some guy's trying to bust his way inside via my roof. Then picture me after I dropped my friend off and drove all the way back to my house...back thru the woods, around the lake...all the while with some maniac atop my VW. So I made it home...you'd have thought the nitemare would've ended there, huh? Think again. Before bed I looked in my closet, under my bed, back in my closet, and under my bureau...do you KNOW the clearance of an average bureau??? A cat can't comfortably fit under there for cripes sake! Now the clincher...ready for this? I did this for years...YEARS...yes, years. It was my obsessive compulsive disorder ritual. It was, I admit it...I'm not afraid...well, not afraid to admit it at least.
Why am I even mentioning this? Because sure enough while I sit here all alone at 1:30 a.m., there WILL be a scary movie advertisement on. It will be right before I go to bed...okay, in three hours...but it WILL come on. The 'scare du jour' lately? "Silent Hill". I avert my eyes quickly...hit the TiVo pause button and wait until the designated time seems to have elapsed. But the damage is done...it's already IN my head...the mere title of any cinematic concoction such as "The Ring", "The Shining", and "Psycho" is enough to do it for me...I don't even have to know what it's about...just the fact someone deemed it scary is enough for my imagination to make it much worse than it probably is. Case in point...I read "The Exorcist" when it first came out...I think I should have seen the film instead. Consequently, I can't even watch a documentary on exorcism...in fact I'm surprising myself by even typing the words. I am indeed a scaredy-cat. I fear I am the consummate wimp.
So, if the scary "slash" horror movie industry had to rely on me for their revenue they would have died out...in some horrible, tortuous way...years ago. So I won't see "Saw"...I won't watch "The Watcher" and I'll be damned if I'd look in my basement...if I had one.
I remember in my carefree youth watching "Lassie", "The Wonderful World of Disney", "The Brady Bunch" and then one unsuspecting nite, an episode of "Night Gallery" which scared the bejeebies out of me. It was one where a little girl befriends this "thing" she finds, this seaweed-type monster that follows her home, kills her friend that she's having a tiff with, and then in the end she winds up weeping openly over its stone-encased carcass, proclaiming her affinity and affection for it. Oh...I've watched it since and it's totally mundane, but to a child who has to go to sleep...alone in bed in a house next to the woods...oh it CAN come and get you...and it will. I had nitemares well up until the time I stupidly agreed to see "Halloween" at the movie theatre in Lumberton, New Jersey, with my girlfriend. Lumberton, you see...is just a hop, skip and a 'jump on top of your car' from Haddonfield, NJ. Haddonfield is where "Halloween" takes place...never mind it takes place in Illinois...all I remembered was seeing that "Haddonfield" sign...and the realization we were only a few miles from one just like it. Even the IMDb states in their Halloween "trivia" section that Haddonfield, NJ is the home of their screenwriter, Debra Hill. A fact that I didn't learn about until recently...talk about eerie, huh?
Oh, I was okay after the film...walking out to the parking lot...until we got into my car. Remember the scene where Michael Myers is on top of the car? Well...envision me going down Rte 38 (let's just say "our I-85") and suddenly thinking some guy's trying to bust his way inside via my roof. Then picture me after I dropped my friend off and drove all the way back to my house...back thru the woods, around the lake...all the while with some maniac atop my VW. So I made it home...you'd have thought the nitemare would've ended there, huh? Think again. Before bed I looked in my closet, under my bed, back in my closet, and under my bureau...do you KNOW the clearance of an average bureau??? A cat can't comfortably fit under there for cripes sake! Now the clincher...ready for this? I did this for years...YEARS...yes, years. It was my obsessive compulsive disorder ritual. It was, I admit it...I'm not afraid...well, not afraid to admit it at least.
Why am I even mentioning this? Because sure enough while I sit here all alone at 1:30 a.m., there WILL be a scary movie advertisement on. It will be right before I go to bed...okay, in three hours...but it WILL come on. The 'scare du jour' lately? "Silent Hill". I avert my eyes quickly...hit the TiVo pause button and wait until the designated time seems to have elapsed. But the damage is done...it's already IN my head...the mere title of any cinematic concoction such as "The Ring", "The Shining", and "Psycho" is enough to do it for me...I don't even have to know what it's about...just the fact someone deemed it scary is enough for my imagination to make it much worse than it probably is. Case in point...I read "The Exorcist" when it first came out...I think I should have seen the film instead. Consequently, I can't even watch a documentary on exorcism...in fact I'm surprising myself by even typing the words. I am indeed a scaredy-cat. I fear I am the consummate wimp.
So, if the scary "slash" horror movie industry had to rely on me for their revenue they would have died out...in some horrible, tortuous way...years ago. So I won't see "Saw"...I won't watch "The Watcher" and I'll be damned if I'd look in my basement...if I had one.
24 April 2006
Board is the Word
"Science Rules!" Oh, shut up, Bill Nye...isn't it time they find a replacement for you anyway? Okay, I admit, I did like Bill...he was fun...getting together your child's science project at T-minus 10 hours...isn't.
Oh, she did all the required things...grew her gross restaurant table germs nicely in the Petri dishes our doctor friend kindly provided...photographed them every other day...kept a little "growth" log...BUT we all failed to realize that we'd be hunting the elusive "science project display board" after she inadvertently messed up our one and only...and apparently Montgomery's one and only.
We have no choice in the matter, we are forced to make the trek down to the Montgomery Office Depot...but only to find there are none on the shelves. My daughter and I walked around and around and couldn't find them...so off we go to ask directions as to where they might be hiding them. The guy we asked was actually more than helpful...hey, I've had massive problems with the Office Depot employees here in town...MASSIVE. If you aren't a people-person...ya know, maybe you shouldn't work WITH people. But that wasn't the case with this guy...and usually I do tell on the good employees, but time was of the essence here and it was fast approaching 5:30. This worker informed us that the only place that science project boards could be had weren't IN Montgomery...none at Walmart, none at Target, none anywhere...except the Prattville Office Depot...to which I responded, "Considering this is the time of year that all the science projects are due...why didn't you guys stock up?" I knew he didn't know but that didn't stop me from asking...not like he ran the store...but maybe he should be.
So, off we go to break the sound barrier to get to the Prattville Office Depot by their 6:00 closing time. Luckily we did. I think there's another science project IN there somewhere but there's always next year. Oh...by the way...the Prattville Office Depot...rules! It's a LOT nicer, newer and each person we ran into was incredibly helpful...especially this one man who kept asking us if we needed any more help with the poster boards...informed us that he was putting more out...and are we sure we found the one we needed.
But let's rewind a bit. When we first get out of the van I noticed a woman and her teenage daughter getting out of their vehicle. Thoughts of "If they think they are grabbing the last project display board they got another thing coming" were dancing...make that coursing thru my brain. And sure enough, they headed straight for the boards...but I won...as I can usually sniff out where anything is in any given store. A trait I feel isn't going to be isolated on any DNA molecule any time soon...and maybe for good reason. Alas. But there was no need to intercept this unsuspecting poor lady and her child anyway, as the Office Depot guy was already running interference...he'd been doing it all day. Everyone in Montgomery was apparently making the pilgrimage to Prattville this weekend to buy these things. Had I been entrepreneurish I would have bought a bunch and sat outside and sold them at triple the price...but as I said earlier, time was of the essence.
So, here we still sit...counting down the hours to go before we are done...and we WILL learn our lesson...at least until next year.
Oh, she did all the required things...grew her gross restaurant table germs nicely in the Petri dishes our doctor friend kindly provided...photographed them every other day...kept a little "growth" log...BUT we all failed to realize that we'd be hunting the elusive "science project display board" after she inadvertently messed up our one and only...and apparently Montgomery's one and only.
We have no choice in the matter, we are forced to make the trek down to the Montgomery Office Depot...but only to find there are none on the shelves. My daughter and I walked around and around and couldn't find them...so off we go to ask directions as to where they might be hiding them. The guy we asked was actually more than helpful...hey, I've had massive problems with the Office Depot employees here in town...MASSIVE. If you aren't a people-person...ya know, maybe you shouldn't work WITH people. But that wasn't the case with this guy...and usually I do tell on the good employees, but time was of the essence here and it was fast approaching 5:30. This worker informed us that the only place that science project boards could be had weren't IN Montgomery...none at Walmart, none at Target, none anywhere...except the Prattville Office Depot...to which I responded, "Considering this is the time of year that all the science projects are due...why didn't you guys stock up?" I knew he didn't know but that didn't stop me from asking...not like he ran the store...but maybe he should be.
So, off we go to break the sound barrier to get to the Prattville Office Depot by their 6:00 closing time. Luckily we did. I think there's another science project IN there somewhere but there's always next year. Oh...by the way...the Prattville Office Depot...rules! It's a LOT nicer, newer and each person we ran into was incredibly helpful...especially this one man who kept asking us if we needed any more help with the poster boards...informed us that he was putting more out...and are we sure we found the one we needed.
But let's rewind a bit. When we first get out of the van I noticed a woman and her teenage daughter getting out of their vehicle. Thoughts of "If they think they are grabbing the last project display board they got another thing coming" were dancing...make that coursing thru my brain. And sure enough, they headed straight for the boards...but I won...as I can usually sniff out where anything is in any given store. A trait I feel isn't going to be isolated on any DNA molecule any time soon...and maybe for good reason. Alas. But there was no need to intercept this unsuspecting poor lady and her child anyway, as the Office Depot guy was already running interference...he'd been doing it all day. Everyone in Montgomery was apparently making the pilgrimage to Prattville this weekend to buy these things. Had I been entrepreneurish I would have bought a bunch and sat outside and sold them at triple the price...but as I said earlier, time was of the essence.
So, here we still sit...counting down the hours to go before we are done...and we WILL learn our lesson...at least until next year.
22 April 2006
Award From Our Sponsor
"Oh...I'm not going to win. I'll never even get nominated. I'm not what they are looking for."
Just what am I talking about...again? Why, the Mother's Day contest the Montgomery Advertiser is running. Oh, it's not that I am not a good mom...I'm just not the "typical" mom.
Personally, I think I'm the 2nd best mom there ever was...okay...maybe the 3rd...14th...337th? I would like to have had me as a mom...if I didn't have my Mom, that is. She never won any "Best Mom" contests either. We never nominated her...I never did. She just wasn't "typical" enough. Mothers who don't fit that "cookie-baking cutter" image don't typically win these awards...so typically no one bothers to nominate them to begin with.
I don't bake cookies, I don't hang around at the school, I don't run the local chapter of the Girl Scout Troop, I don't have dinner on the table at 5:30 every nite. Not saying at all those aren't admirable qualities...just saying I don't do them. I do, however, watch my kids like a hawk...no panel of toy watchers ever had to tell me which toy they could or couldn't play with...as I WATCHED them. They never got into any cleaning products or ate any plants or sat in the cat litter box chowing down...as I WATCHED them. They were awake...I was awake. They crawled where they weren't supposed to crawl...I moved them back. My daughter is almost 11 and I still hold her hand in the parking lot and in a lot of stores. When my son started driving and drove himself to college...he called me when he got there - he called me when he left. Call it overprotective...but I called my mother each time I went somewhere out of town (even overnite Atlanta trips)...and I called her upon my return. Just because one day I became an adult didn't mean she stopped worrying. I knew she worried...I grew up but never stopped being her child. It didn't hurt me to call...and I'd give nearly anything to be able to call her now. You see, she died Halloween, 1999.
She never baked cookies either...never hung out at school...never did those other things...but she was always there. I told her everything...oh yeah...EVERYTHING. She was my best friend. She rode bikes with me when I was a kid...she jumped rope with me when I learned...she tagged along to the mall with me when I got my driver's license...she knew who it was when I played Jethro Tull, U2, or Peter Gabriel...she even went to a Genesis concert with me in Philadelphia...and knew the songs. All the younger people in line were amazed..."You LIKE this music?? Wow, I wish MY mom would listen to the stuff I like...she'd never come to a concert." She wasn't just 20 years older than me either...she had me when she was 42...there was a definite age gap there. She didn't see it...neither did I. You see, she wasn't your "typical mom". And she never won any awards.
So...I sit back, content that my 18-year-old son still kisses me goodnite, still wants me to play video games with him, still bothers the heck out of me with the songs he listens to...and doesn't get all bent out of shape to have me be seen in the same car as him. We joke around ALL the time...and can put those MST3K people to shame ANY day when we parody a movie or television show. In fact he's calling me now to come in his room to look at something. How many parents of 18-year-olds can boast that? I'm also content that my daughter talks to me constantly about Border Collies and Papillon dogs that she sooooooo wants to get one day...and a whole bunch of other things I won't get into (hey, I have been known to ramble a tad).
I am also content that, like my mother, I will never win a Mother's Day award.
Just what am I talking about...again? Why, the Mother's Day contest the Montgomery Advertiser is running. Oh, it's not that I am not a good mom...I'm just not the "typical" mom.
Personally, I think I'm the 2nd best mom there ever was...okay...maybe the 3rd...14th...337th? I would like to have had me as a mom...if I didn't have my Mom, that is. She never won any "Best Mom" contests either. We never nominated her...I never did. She just wasn't "typical" enough. Mothers who don't fit that "cookie-baking cutter" image don't typically win these awards...so typically no one bothers to nominate them to begin with.
I don't bake cookies, I don't hang around at the school, I don't run the local chapter of the Girl Scout Troop, I don't have dinner on the table at 5:30 every nite. Not saying at all those aren't admirable qualities...just saying I don't do them. I do, however, watch my kids like a hawk...no panel of toy watchers ever had to tell me which toy they could or couldn't play with...as I WATCHED them. They never got into any cleaning products or ate any plants or sat in the cat litter box chowing down...as I WATCHED them. They were awake...I was awake. They crawled where they weren't supposed to crawl...I moved them back. My daughter is almost 11 and I still hold her hand in the parking lot and in a lot of stores. When my son started driving and drove himself to college...he called me when he got there - he called me when he left. Call it overprotective...but I called my mother each time I went somewhere out of town (even overnite Atlanta trips)...and I called her upon my return. Just because one day I became an adult didn't mean she stopped worrying. I knew she worried...I grew up but never stopped being her child. It didn't hurt me to call...and I'd give nearly anything to be able to call her now. You see, she died Halloween, 1999.
She never baked cookies either...never hung out at school...never did those other things...but she was always there. I told her everything...oh yeah...EVERYTHING. She was my best friend. She rode bikes with me when I was a kid...she jumped rope with me when I learned...she tagged along to the mall with me when I got my driver's license...she knew who it was when I played Jethro Tull, U2, or Peter Gabriel...she even went to a Genesis concert with me in Philadelphia...and knew the songs. All the younger people in line were amazed..."You LIKE this music?? Wow, I wish MY mom would listen to the stuff I like...she'd never come to a concert." She wasn't just 20 years older than me either...she had me when she was 42...there was a definite age gap there. She didn't see it...neither did I. You see, she wasn't your "typical mom". And she never won any awards.
So...I sit back, content that my 18-year-old son still kisses me goodnite, still wants me to play video games with him, still bothers the heck out of me with the songs he listens to...and doesn't get all bent out of shape to have me be seen in the same car as him. We joke around ALL the time...and can put those MST3K people to shame ANY day when we parody a movie or television show. In fact he's calling me now to come in his room to look at something. How many parents of 18-year-olds can boast that? I'm also content that my daughter talks to me constantly about Border Collies and Papillon dogs that she sooooooo wants to get one day...and a whole bunch of other things I won't get into (hey, I have been known to ramble a tad).
I am also content that, like my mother, I will never win a Mother's Day award.
20 April 2006
Jersey Girl
As many of you have read in my previous blogs, I am originally from New Jersey...I lived in Jersey for 26 years. You can take the girl out of Jersey...but trust me, you can NOT take Jersey out of this girl...even tho I've lived here for 16 years. Oh...I know...everyone from New York and most places make fun of Jersey...even Craig Ferguson has made fun of Jersey on numerous occasions...and he's from Scotland. What are the chances New Jersey is made fun of IN Scotland? Okay, okay...I'd say pretty good.
So we are a comedic wasteland in Jersey, not unlike well...um...um...the toxic waste dumps we have so many of. We aren't New York, we're New York "Lite"...so altho we have the attitude there...THEY get all the glory for it. Oh...there's glory in having a New York attitude, but a Jersey one? Hey...we got Tony Soprano...and we recently had a contest to give Jersey a whole new slogan...you can probably guess how many sent in had the words "Tony Soprano" in it. I'd guess 1/3 of the 11,000 sent in. In the end, Jeffrey Antman of Passaic won with "New Jersey, Come See For Yourself". It was probably shortened from "New Jersey, Come See For Yourself Where the Bodies are Buried"...but you know...it wouldn't fit on the license plate.
Have you ever noticed we are the only two-word state that can go by its "last name"? Jersey. You don't ever hear anyone say they are from Dakota, York, Carolina, etc., it just doesn't happen. But you CAN be from Jersey...and no, it's not "Joisey"...I never in my 26 years of living there and subsequent visiting EVER heard anyone pronounce it "Joisey". I think we made that up to mess with people...oh we'd do that, we would. Oh, we mess with people in other ways, too...but if I told ya, I'd hafta kill ya. Hey, that's a joke...no, seriously...it is...don't let that slogan sway you.
I think we also have the uncanny ability to spot one of "us"...it's like some strange secret thing going on...kinda like the Freemasons...only we admit we have secrets. C'mon, someone knows where Hoffa is, after all...and you can bet they're from Jersey. But it's true...whenever I see someone on a talk show...my ears prick up and I watch for a little while...my little Jersey radar goes off and I'll go to the Internet Movie Database to see where they are from...and sure enough...Jersey! It has NOT failed yet. I even can spot them in a restaurant like the time I'm eating at City Grill (haven't been there yet...you should)...and I hear this guy talking...I home in on it right away...he's GOT to be from Jersey! I am not in the least shy, so after they get their check I saunter on over and confront him about it...sure enough...yep...and we start talking Jersey for a while.
And when someone who lives in Alabama from Jersey talks to another person from Jersey the subject of how you just can't get a decent hoagie or cheesesteak (yeah, I know they are FROM Philly...but we can do 'em, too) WILL come up . Why no one here has made a killing setting up an authentic Jersey hoagie (or for you Alabamians..."sub") shop is beyond me...unless, like Hoffa, it's a deeply buried secret.
So we are a comedic wasteland in Jersey, not unlike well...um...um...the toxic waste dumps we have so many of. We aren't New York, we're New York "Lite"...so altho we have the attitude there...THEY get all the glory for it. Oh...there's glory in having a New York attitude, but a Jersey one? Hey...we got Tony Soprano...and we recently had a contest to give Jersey a whole new slogan...you can probably guess how many sent in had the words "Tony Soprano" in it. I'd guess 1/3 of the 11,000 sent in. In the end, Jeffrey Antman of Passaic won with "New Jersey, Come See For Yourself". It was probably shortened from "New Jersey, Come See For Yourself Where the Bodies are Buried"...but you know...it wouldn't fit on the license plate.
Have you ever noticed we are the only two-word state that can go by its "last name"? Jersey. You don't ever hear anyone say they are from Dakota, York, Carolina, etc., it just doesn't happen. But you CAN be from Jersey...and no, it's not "Joisey"...I never in my 26 years of living there and subsequent visiting EVER heard anyone pronounce it "Joisey". I think we made that up to mess with people...oh we'd do that, we would. Oh, we mess with people in other ways, too...but if I told ya, I'd hafta kill ya. Hey, that's a joke...no, seriously...it is...don't let that slogan sway you.
I think we also have the uncanny ability to spot one of "us"...it's like some strange secret thing going on...kinda like the Freemasons...only we admit we have secrets. C'mon, someone knows where Hoffa is, after all...and you can bet they're from Jersey. But it's true...whenever I see someone on a talk show...my ears prick up and I watch for a little while...my little Jersey radar goes off and I'll go to the Internet Movie Database to see where they are from...and sure enough...Jersey! It has NOT failed yet. I even can spot them in a restaurant like the time I'm eating at City Grill (haven't been there yet...you should)...and I hear this guy talking...I home in on it right away...he's GOT to be from Jersey! I am not in the least shy, so after they get their check I saunter on over and confront him about it...sure enough...yep...and we start talking Jersey for a while.
And when someone who lives in Alabama from Jersey talks to another person from Jersey the subject of how you just can't get a decent hoagie or cheesesteak (yeah, I know they are FROM Philly...but we can do 'em, too) WILL come up . Why no one here has made a killing setting up an authentic Jersey hoagie (or for you Alabamians..."sub") shop is beyond me...unless, like Hoffa, it's a deeply buried secret.
18 April 2006
Eggs To Dye For
Did I miss my stained-glass window of opportunity? Can I still talk about...Easter egg hunts? I'm still sick and now on antibiotics to deal with the noises in my head...I said "noises"...not "voices"...so you can relax. But at least maybe I have a logical reason I can blame on this delay.
When I was growing up, there wasn't much they talked about that killed you in the food realm...except for mayonnaise. "Don't leave mayonnaise out in the sun...it can kill you." I don't know about you, but the odds of us taking the mayonnaise jar out to play with it as a kid and then decide we were hungry and wanted to have a snack...were pretty much nil. We could eat raw beef, we didn't need to cook our hamburgers until they registered 160 degrees inside...we touched other things after we stuffed the turkey and yes, we actually crammed all that stuffing INSIDE the cavity...and we could have runny eggs without worrying about salmonella.
Not only that...but we could dye them the nite before Easter and have our parents hide them after we went to bed. Oh...anyone over the age of, uh...my age, knows what I'm talking about. It was like a lesser Christmas...but with candy instead of presents...plus we got to play "hide and go seek" with deadly egg products. If only we knew. Why we were so enthused with searching for dyed eggs is beyond me...c'mon it's an egg...this is way before the plastic ones that you hid money in. So...on our expedition we would go...usually right after church in our fancy clothes. And back in my day, that meant wearing my new dress and pastel-coloured coordinated coat, shoes, hat and gloves. Yes, gloves...and of course the dye would rub off on the gloves but it didn't matter as we only wore them once anyway. Along with the hat, coat, shoes and dress.
Okay, so off we went...we were kids on a mission...and if you had siblings, this mission was a big deal. "Must get more eggs than the others." Again...why? I don't know! So...we searched in the house...behind the sofa cushions, under the sofa where the cats and dog routinely played, inside the old Grundig shortwave radio/record player, inside shoes, out in the yard under more unsanitary things...and then we were told to stop...that we found them all...or more often, we just gave up looking. And if we gave up looking, you know what that meant...one day, in the not too distant future...someone will "find" an egg...in some state of science project deterioration...and of course that someone will have to crack it open to look at and smell it...and ask YOU to smell it, too.
So, there we were...with our stash of multi-hued eggs...invariably with shells that cracked in the boiling/dying process the nite before, so when you peeled the shells off, the white was always shades of purple and this awful sickly green colour. Doesn't matter if the egg was red on the outside...the stain inside was always going to be purple and green. A little known fact...PAAS actually stands for "Purple And Awful Sickly green"...well, they left off the "G" as it didn't sound or flow right. Oh I made that up...yes, it's silly, but I am still sick. Actually PAAS was invented by Newark, NJ drug store owner, William Townley. He named it after "Passen" after the word that his Pennsylvania Dutch neighbors used for Easter. So, in a nutshell...or in this case, eggshell...New Jersey trivia to boot.
And then our pre-Easter meal feast commenced. We actually ATE them...well, we ate a couple...the rest got smashed up in a bowl for egg salad with some mayonnaise. That is, AFTER we brought that jar back inside.
When I was growing up, there wasn't much they talked about that killed you in the food realm...except for mayonnaise. "Don't leave mayonnaise out in the sun...it can kill you." I don't know about you, but the odds of us taking the mayonnaise jar out to play with it as a kid and then decide we were hungry and wanted to have a snack...were pretty much nil. We could eat raw beef, we didn't need to cook our hamburgers until they registered 160 degrees inside...we touched other things after we stuffed the turkey and yes, we actually crammed all that stuffing INSIDE the cavity...and we could have runny eggs without worrying about salmonella.
Not only that...but we could dye them the nite before Easter and have our parents hide them after we went to bed. Oh...anyone over the age of, uh...my age, knows what I'm talking about. It was like a lesser Christmas...but with candy instead of presents...plus we got to play "hide and go seek" with deadly egg products. If only we knew. Why we were so enthused with searching for dyed eggs is beyond me...c'mon it's an egg...this is way before the plastic ones that you hid money in. So...on our expedition we would go...usually right after church in our fancy clothes. And back in my day, that meant wearing my new dress and pastel-coloured coordinated coat, shoes, hat and gloves. Yes, gloves...and of course the dye would rub off on the gloves but it didn't matter as we only wore them once anyway. Along with the hat, coat, shoes and dress.
Okay, so off we went...we were kids on a mission...and if you had siblings, this mission was a big deal. "Must get more eggs than the others." Again...why? I don't know! So...we searched in the house...behind the sofa cushions, under the sofa where the cats and dog routinely played, inside the old Grundig shortwave radio/record player, inside shoes, out in the yard under more unsanitary things...and then we were told to stop...that we found them all...or more often, we just gave up looking. And if we gave up looking, you know what that meant...one day, in the not too distant future...someone will "find" an egg...in some state of science project deterioration...and of course that someone will have to crack it open to look at and smell it...and ask YOU to smell it, too.
So, there we were...with our stash of multi-hued eggs...invariably with shells that cracked in the boiling/dying process the nite before, so when you peeled the shells off, the white was always shades of purple and this awful sickly green colour. Doesn't matter if the egg was red on the outside...the stain inside was always going to be purple and green. A little known fact...PAAS actually stands for "Purple And Awful Sickly green"...well, they left off the "G" as it didn't sound or flow right. Oh I made that up...yes, it's silly, but I am still sick. Actually PAAS was invented by Newark, NJ drug store owner, William Townley. He named it after "Passen" after the word that his Pennsylvania Dutch neighbors used for Easter. So, in a nutshell...or in this case, eggshell...New Jersey trivia to boot.
And then our pre-Easter meal feast commenced. We actually ATE them...well, we ate a couple...the rest got smashed up in a bowl for egg salad with some mayonnaise. That is, AFTER we brought that jar back inside.
15 April 2006
'Breakout' of the Randomness
I am soooooooo old. How do I know I'm soooooooo old? Have any of you of the age of...say...remembering the 70's clearly...tried playing any video games lately? Oh my expertise ended with Space Invaders...and damn I was good. I confess...I never got into pinball...I had friends who were into pinball...I freaked out each time the thing said "TILT". Maybe, if I'm lucky, four or five of you out there reading this will understand what I just said...I am soooooo old.
I also never played Pac-Man...Ms Pac-Man or anything you had to put a quarter into. I did, however buy an Atari USED. How pathetic is that? A used Atari...it's a game player, people...remember "Pong"? Ever heard of "Pong"? Oh...go ask your father...sigh. I did...I bought one LONG before you could go ONLINE and go to eBay and bid on things...ready for this? I had to LOOK in the paper for someone actually SELLING one. Then I had to physically GO to their house and buy it. You might not actually believe this...but I still have it...along with the 10 games I bought it with. Oh...there was Pong...Asteroids, some really bad Skiing game...and like six others I never played and then there was the coup de grace...Space Invaders!
Oh, I soooooooo ruled playing Space Invaders...I would kick everyone's butt. Well, remember, this was on an Atari game system...but I soooooo pwned people. Well, back then we called it "creamed". But I was good at it.
Now back to my original question...have any of you "older people" played any video games lately? I have an 18-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter...both can annihilate me. This is how I see it - anything more complicated than a typical Atari joystick...ain't gonna happen. This newfangled thingy you use has like 8 buttons...how do you REMEMBER where 8 buttons are, let alone WHAT they are and what combination you have to push to do things? Nowadays you go online...get cheat codes and become invincible. In Atari you just got killed...you started over again and you got killed again...until someone told you some tidbit of info like "Psssst...Pac-Man ghosts only go in ONE direction"..."Dude...you gotta be kidding me...how did I NOT figure that out???" Only we said "man" and not "dude"...again factor in the age factor.
But I sit and play Super Smash Bros. and One Piece Grand Battle...with my ONE character, "Sir Crocodile" or "Mr 0" as he's called...and I just found that out...I just pick the same guy...and I still suck. Stick with the same guy...there's 19 of them and each one does special attacks and a secret attack and you grab the fruit and it gives you power and you grab the crystal and you get more lives and what the heck am I doing? I press buttons randomly...no purpose...randomly. My son lets me win periodically..."Oh you are doing good...see? You won this time...you are getting better." Oh, right...press the "A" button three times? I have to stop and look down to SEE which one IS the "A" button...and it's the BIG button. I am sooooooo lame...I am sooooooo old. I am soooooooo pwned.
I also never played Pac-Man...Ms Pac-Man or anything you had to put a quarter into. I did, however buy an Atari USED. How pathetic is that? A used Atari...it's a game player, people...remember "Pong"? Ever heard of "Pong"? Oh...go ask your father...sigh. I did...I bought one LONG before you could go ONLINE and go to eBay and bid on things...ready for this? I had to LOOK in the paper for someone actually SELLING one. Then I had to physically GO to their house and buy it. You might not actually believe this...but I still have it...along with the 10 games I bought it with. Oh...there was Pong...Asteroids, some really bad Skiing game...and like six others I never played and then there was the coup de grace...Space Invaders!
Oh, I soooooooo ruled playing Space Invaders...I would kick everyone's butt. Well, remember, this was on an Atari game system...but I soooooo pwned people. Well, back then we called it "creamed". But I was good at it.
Now back to my original question...have any of you "older people" played any video games lately? I have an 18-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter...both can annihilate me. This is how I see it - anything more complicated than a typical Atari joystick...ain't gonna happen. This newfangled thingy you use has like 8 buttons...how do you REMEMBER where 8 buttons are, let alone WHAT they are and what combination you have to push to do things? Nowadays you go online...get cheat codes and become invincible. In Atari you just got killed...you started over again and you got killed again...until someone told you some tidbit of info like "Psssst...Pac-Man ghosts only go in ONE direction"..."Dude...you gotta be kidding me...how did I NOT figure that out???" Only we said "man" and not "dude"...again factor in the age factor.
But I sit and play Super Smash Bros. and One Piece Grand Battle...with my ONE character, "Sir Crocodile" or "Mr 0" as he's called...and I just found that out...I just pick the same guy...and I still suck. Stick with the same guy...there's 19 of them and each one does special attacks and a secret attack and you grab the fruit and it gives you power and you grab the crystal and you get more lives and what the heck am I doing? I press buttons randomly...no purpose...randomly. My son lets me win periodically..."Oh you are doing good...see? You won this time...you are getting better." Oh, right...press the "A" button three times? I have to stop and look down to SEE which one IS the "A" button...and it's the BIG button. I am sooooooo lame...I am sooooooo old. I am soooooooo pwned.
12 April 2006
Café olé?
I don't like coffee...which is strange when you realize that both my mother and father predominantly drank it all the time. In fact, I don't ever remember my mother drinking anything but coffee. So, in my case, the apple...or the bean, as it were...fell far from the bush.
I know people who drink coffee...I know people who drink a lot of it...and I know people who seem to only drink it to be seen...you know the types, the "I'm toddling off to Starbucks to get a Mochalochafrappalino" ones. Okay, fine, you DO that. I'll save $5.50 and have a glass of wine or something instead...and you can bet it won't have some frou-frou name neither.
Now I'm not saying that I've never drank coffee...but I'm rather in the "on" mode every waking second, so I am one of those people who doesn't need a jolt of caffeine in the morning...and I certainly don't need one anytime in the evening...so when I drink coffee, I "cheat" and drink the decaffeinated kind. Oh, sure...I have the ritzy coffeemaker to make it in and everything...hey, if I'm NOT going to drink a product, I'm darn well not going to drink it in style. So, I researched on Coffeegeek.com and found myself a "lovely to look at, lovely to drink from", elitist coffeemaker. Personally, I've used it about three times. But back to morning jolts and I don't mean people who live next to the San Andreas Fault Line...I'm talking java, black gold, cup of Joe, morning brewski...whatever you want to call it.
Well, there are a myriad of ways to get that coffee fix into your body during the day or nite without actually having to wait in line or brew some up yourself...there's all sorts of coffee-flavoured candies, ice-creams...there's coffee-flavoured tea for heaven's sake. And there's coffee-flavoured liqueurs...Kahlua which manages to get more sugar content in it than pure cane sugar comes with naturally...and then the Starbucks coffee-flavoured liqueur...which tastes much stronger in the coffee department, so chances are I'll never buy another. And I'm sure there are tons of other coffee-flavoured things...even chips and coffee-flavoured breads...and if they aren't out there yet...wait...they will be.
But for now, there's a new one on the block...or should I say BLOK? Coke has decided to get into the "Jolt Cola" type of marketing strategy...only adding a taste of coffee to their concoction besides the extra caffeine and sugar. Hmmmm...
My friend wrote me of his run-in with this new Coke at a sampling station in New York City just this past week. I commented to him that his description of the event sounded very much like what I try to convey in my blogs...so he said that I could "appropriate that theme" into my blog if I so needed an idea. I took "appropriate" to mean "feel free to say what I just said and put it in your blog"...as you can well deduce, I grant myself a lot of leeway...so, here's an actual comment penned not only by my "screenplay co-writer"...but someone who actually loves coffee (and the ensuing side-effects thereof I think)...
So, they couldn't even give the stuff away at 8:00 a.m. to people on a busy New York City street...to people who actually LIKE coffee...what does that tell you?? Will Coke BLAK be destined to run the same course as New Coke, Vanilla Coke, and all those other Cokes that seem to appeal to 2% of the population? And why didn't they call it Mocha Coke? That would have seemed so much better than BLAK. Will we see some really bad commercial on TV with a guy on his way to work, eyes falling shut...and a voiceover from above saying "Don't black out on your way to work...BLAK out instead!" Oh...it might happen...I've seen those Snickers commercials...and you'd think NOTHING could get worse than those...well, okay, this isn't worse than those...but given the "proper" ad agency...who knows.
I know people who drink coffee...I know people who drink a lot of it...and I know people who seem to only drink it to be seen...you know the types, the "I'm toddling off to Starbucks to get a Mochalochafrappalino" ones. Okay, fine, you DO that. I'll save $5.50 and have a glass of wine or something instead...and you can bet it won't have some frou-frou name neither.
Now I'm not saying that I've never drank coffee...but I'm rather in the "on" mode every waking second, so I am one of those people who doesn't need a jolt of caffeine in the morning...and I certainly don't need one anytime in the evening...so when I drink coffee, I "cheat" and drink the decaffeinated kind. Oh, sure...I have the ritzy coffeemaker to make it in and everything...hey, if I'm NOT going to drink a product, I'm darn well not going to drink it in style. So, I researched on Coffeegeek.com and found myself a "lovely to look at, lovely to drink from", elitist coffeemaker. Personally, I've used it about three times. But back to morning jolts and I don't mean people who live next to the San Andreas Fault Line...I'm talking java, black gold, cup of Joe, morning brewski...whatever you want to call it.
Well, there are a myriad of ways to get that coffee fix into your body during the day or nite without actually having to wait in line or brew some up yourself...there's all sorts of coffee-flavoured candies, ice-creams...there's coffee-flavoured tea for heaven's sake. And there's coffee-flavoured liqueurs...Kahlua which manages to get more sugar content in it than pure cane sugar comes with naturally...and then the Starbucks coffee-flavoured liqueur...which tastes much stronger in the coffee department, so chances are I'll never buy another. And I'm sure there are tons of other coffee-flavoured things...even chips and coffee-flavoured breads...and if they aren't out there yet...wait...they will be.
But for now, there's a new one on the block...or should I say BLOK? Coke has decided to get into the "Jolt Cola" type of marketing strategy...only adding a taste of coffee to their concoction besides the extra caffeine and sugar. Hmmmm...
My friend wrote me of his run-in with this new Coke at a sampling station in New York City just this past week. I commented to him that his description of the event sounded very much like what I try to convey in my blogs...so he said that I could "appropriate that theme" into my blog if I so needed an idea. I took "appropriate" to mean "feel free to say what I just said and put it in your blog"...as you can well deduce, I grant myself a lot of leeway...so, here's an actual comment penned not only by my "screenplay co-writer"...but someone who actually loves coffee (and the ensuing side-effects thereof I think)...
A few days ago, there were some young people on 7th Avenue handing out free
samples of "Coca-Cola BLAK," which is "Coke with coffee essence," at 8:00 in the
morning (yawn!), so I stopped and said to one of them, "Can I just look at it,
and if I don't like it, give it back to you?" He said, "Sure," and handed
me one. Then he said, "You'll give it back to me." I read the
ingredients list, and of course it's pure Coke with "coffee essence" as the
fifth or sixth ingredient, so I went "ew" out loud and handed it back to
him. He took it and said, "Told you so."
I guess "BLAK" is supposed to be a cutesy marketing way of spelling
"black," as in "I take my coffee . . . ," but in my case it was more a spelling
of the sound I made when I thought about someone putting all that sugar and
caffeine into himself!
I am not a health-food Nazi, as you know, but it does seem as though at
some point you could just inject amphetamines directly into your carotid artery
and get the same results.
So, they couldn't even give the stuff away at 8:00 a.m. to people on a busy New York City street...to people who actually LIKE coffee...what does that tell you?? Will Coke BLAK be destined to run the same course as New Coke, Vanilla Coke, and all those other Cokes that seem to appeal to 2% of the population? And why didn't they call it Mocha Coke? That would have seemed so much better than BLAK. Will we see some really bad commercial on TV with a guy on his way to work, eyes falling shut...and a voiceover from above saying "Don't black out on your way to work...BLAK out instead!" Oh...it might happen...I've seen those Snickers commercials...and you'd think NOTHING could get worse than those...well, okay, this isn't worse than those...but given the "proper" ad agency...who knows.
10 April 2006
Sick of it All
Well, I was doing just fine...everyone I talked to had gotten sick except me. Then this weekend my daughter came down with something and yesterday it was passed on to me. In fact within just a few minutes of talking to my friend online, I got considerably worse and had to scrounge around the house for medicine which ended up not working. Then I ended up not taking an Ambien last nite, and if I don't take an Ambien...I'm not going to sleep. Consequently, I haven't slept yet and my extremely brilliant mock up of "The DaVinci Code" verdict and the right to write books was done by Craig Ferguson last Friday...and I'm not going to plagiarize off of him...uh...no comment.
So...this is the end of my very short blog. Hopefully tomorrow I will feel like doing something...anything...as today I sure don't.
So...this is the end of my very short blog. Hopefully tomorrow I will feel like doing something...anything...as today I sure don't.
07 April 2006
Out With the Old...In With the News
Everyone gets to move up a notch come June. Well, not everyone, but everyone who falls below Katie Couric...jobwise. Sure...didn't you know? Katie replaces Dan Rather's stand in, Bob Schieffer; Meredith Vieira replaces Katie's old job at "The Today Show", someone's going to replace Vieira's job at "The View"...and so on and so forth. So, we all move up one place...except for Schieffer who has to go to the back of the line because he's too old. Too old...like Dan Rather and Tom Brokaw were.
Oh, c'mon...didn't you know? They probably spent millions of dollars doing surveys and paying those consulting firms whose only real job it is...is telling you how to do things "better". Of course, it's always just based on speculation...so if you want a dream job...become one of those. People pay to hear you tell them what to do. Not that you know...but you have scads of paperwork to back-up your analysis. I can get scads of paperwork to back-up nearly everything I say if I go on Google...but no one pays me for the privilege. So...Katie is demographically in a niche that hopefully is going to pull in younger viewers. Younger viewers who don't bother turning on the news anymore...they read it at their convenience online, get it from "The Daily Show", and read it on their iPods commuting to work. Most aren't even home by the time the national news comes on...and this is where they must figure Couric will excel.
Who watches "The Today Show"? People getting ready for their jobs? Well just snippets of it, but I bet most people who watch "The Today Show" are probably stay at home types, those getting their kids ready for school...those busy working from home...and/or those taking care of their parents...oh, there's a whole lot of those coming of age...it's true. These are then the same people who will be home in time to watch the news when it rolls around...so who should they trust but someone they've been watching for eons. Who even KNOWS Bob Schieffer? What did he do? Some White House correspondent? Some guy on 60 Minutes...Dan Rather's brother? But Katie is a household name...and product placement is everything...so let's place her in that slot.
Wait...isn't Katie too perky...she's been hosting the morning show for 15 years...how is she going to make the transition to evening news? Believe me...the woman is 49 years old...she's had two children...ain't too much perky on her any more...so I'm sure she can make the change just fine. And at 49, she should be getting ready for it any year now. But seriously...I used to find her exceedingly annoying...but I believe in the last few years she's mellowed...she's settled in and is more aware that she can be serious, and can be taken seriously...without having to resort to cheerleader-type enthusiasm. Sure, she's still a little quirky...but if I were making $14 mil a year, I'd probably be all loopy, too.
And so, we all move up a notch...which, considering that I'm unemployed...I'm not too sure where I fit in...but I'm still ahead of old Bob Schieffer. But I can't help but think CBS would be ahead if they just rehired Dan Rather...and NBC would be ahead if they brought Tom Brokaw back. Sure, they aren't as young as Couric...but I don't think I need to have a consulting company to figure out they'd pull in the figures they want. Go figure.
Oh, c'mon...didn't you know? They probably spent millions of dollars doing surveys and paying those consulting firms whose only real job it is...is telling you how to do things "better". Of course, it's always just based on speculation...so if you want a dream job...become one of those. People pay to hear you tell them what to do. Not that you know...but you have scads of paperwork to back-up your analysis. I can get scads of paperwork to back-up nearly everything I say if I go on Google...but no one pays me for the privilege. So...Katie is demographically in a niche that hopefully is going to pull in younger viewers. Younger viewers who don't bother turning on the news anymore...they read it at their convenience online, get it from "The Daily Show", and read it on their iPods commuting to work. Most aren't even home by the time the national news comes on...and this is where they must figure Couric will excel.
Who watches "The Today Show"? People getting ready for their jobs? Well just snippets of it, but I bet most people who watch "The Today Show" are probably stay at home types, those getting their kids ready for school...those busy working from home...and/or those taking care of their parents...oh, there's a whole lot of those coming of age...it's true. These are then the same people who will be home in time to watch the news when it rolls around...so who should they trust but someone they've been watching for eons. Who even KNOWS Bob Schieffer? What did he do? Some White House correspondent? Some guy on 60 Minutes...Dan Rather's brother? But Katie is a household name...and product placement is everything...so let's place her in that slot.
Wait...isn't Katie too perky...she's been hosting the morning show for 15 years...how is she going to make the transition to evening news? Believe me...the woman is 49 years old...she's had two children...ain't too much perky on her any more...so I'm sure she can make the change just fine. And at 49, she should be getting ready for it any year now. But seriously...I used to find her exceedingly annoying...but I believe in the last few years she's mellowed...she's settled in and is more aware that she can be serious, and can be taken seriously...without having to resort to cheerleader-type enthusiasm. Sure, she's still a little quirky...but if I were making $14 mil a year, I'd probably be all loopy, too.
And so, we all move up a notch...which, considering that I'm unemployed...I'm not too sure where I fit in...but I'm still ahead of old Bob Schieffer. But I can't help but think CBS would be ahead if they just rehired Dan Rather...and NBC would be ahead if they brought Tom Brokaw back. Sure, they aren't as young as Couric...but I don't think I need to have a consulting company to figure out they'd pull in the figures they want. Go figure.
06 April 2006
Be...cause célèbre
"What's Nick Lachey up to since his split from Jessica Simpson?" "Who did Tara from 'The Bachelor' go to 'Ice Age 2's premiere with?" "The person who came in 22nd in last year's 'American Idol' is sporting the next celeb-baby-bump!" Who cares? I don't know of one single person who cares. In fact, when I ask them if they care, they vehemently deny it. I see people on TV go on and on about how they could care less who these "destined for future performances on 'Dancing with the Stars'" celebrities saw or spoke to, dated, or smooched. So if no one cares, that brings me to only one logical conclusion: Those "People"-type magazines are making this stuff up because it's filler. "Hey, did Jennifer Aniston do something today? No? Okay...key up that story about that guy who once dated Princess Diana's sister's friend...and run it on page 2...where everyone can see it. Make sure you put "Princess Diana" in big letters on the cover...with maybe a nice photo of Prince William underneath. Why? Because we can...and if we hype it up enough...you will believe someone cares enough to want to know...and odds are, you will want to know, too." Most people...are followers after all.
Face it...couldn't you live the rest of your life without knowing the reason behind the breakup of Matt LeBlanc's marriage? I know I could. Now his soon-to-be-ex will have her own personal paparazzi crew following her for the next month. How bad must it be to be the "lesser celebrity" photo snapper guy? All these other ones are off taking photos of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes going somewhere to dinner...you are tasked with taking photos of Kato Kaelin parking their car...and undoubtedly someone will be emailing Gawker.com with those very details.
What? You haven't heard about Gawker.com aka GawkerStalker? A website whose main purpose in life is to provide you with up-to-the-minute geotracking of celebrities. "I just saw Harrison Ford get out of his car in front of Bergdorf's"...and all of a sudden...it's public knowledge. How bad is that? Now, I would love to attain some celebrity status...but I certainly wouldn't want a tail on me 24-hours a day...and I certainly would not want some site detailing to the drive-by-shooting public where I am at any given moment. Enter George Clooney. I've never really been a fan of George Clooney...nor do I know who he's dating, what he ate for dinner last nite, or what kind of car he drives. I do know, however, that he has a villa in Italy that Brad and Angelina Jolie did NOT get married at like every single magazine had hoped. But he's standing up to these people and decided he would try to sabotage their site by rallying his friends and others to text message, email, however they get their info...in...bogus sightings of celebrities. Atta boy, George...I like how you think. Just because these people make more money in one movie than most of us will make our entire lifetimes, does not give us the right to invade their privacy THAT much.
Just imagine...for every 10 "I love you Julia Roberts...I've seen ALL your films...when are you making another?" letter her "letter opener person" opens up...there's probably one or two "I love you Julia...and NO ONE but ME will EVER love you AGAIN...P.S...I know where you are right now as Gawker just updated their map" (okay...I realize that by the time she'd get the letter...she wouldn't be there anymore...but it was just for dramatic effect). THAT is the realism I would NOT want to face being a celebrity...and the reality that no matter how low you are on that 'Celebrity Food Chain Pyramid'...there's someone out there photographing your every move and quite a few who now know your every move...if even for an instant. Do we really need another Rebecca Schaeffer or John Lennon incident to wake these people up to what they are really doing?
Face it...couldn't you live the rest of your life without knowing the reason behind the breakup of Matt LeBlanc's marriage? I know I could. Now his soon-to-be-ex will have her own personal paparazzi crew following her for the next month. How bad must it be to be the "lesser celebrity" photo snapper guy? All these other ones are off taking photos of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes going somewhere to dinner...you are tasked with taking photos of Kato Kaelin parking their car...and undoubtedly someone will be emailing Gawker.com with those very details.
What? You haven't heard about Gawker.com aka GawkerStalker? A website whose main purpose in life is to provide you with up-to-the-minute geotracking of celebrities. "I just saw Harrison Ford get out of his car in front of Bergdorf's"...and all of a sudden...it's public knowledge. How bad is that? Now, I would love to attain some celebrity status...but I certainly wouldn't want a tail on me 24-hours a day...and I certainly would not want some site detailing to the drive-by-shooting public where I am at any given moment. Enter George Clooney. I've never really been a fan of George Clooney...nor do I know who he's dating, what he ate for dinner last nite, or what kind of car he drives. I do know, however, that he has a villa in Italy that Brad and Angelina Jolie did NOT get married at like every single magazine had hoped. But he's standing up to these people and decided he would try to sabotage their site by rallying his friends and others to text message, email, however they get their info...in...bogus sightings of celebrities. Atta boy, George...I like how you think. Just because these people make more money in one movie than most of us will make our entire lifetimes, does not give us the right to invade their privacy THAT much.
Just imagine...for every 10 "I love you Julia Roberts...I've seen ALL your films...when are you making another?" letter her "letter opener person" opens up...there's probably one or two "I love you Julia...and NO ONE but ME will EVER love you AGAIN...P.S...I know where you are right now as Gawker just updated their map" (okay...I realize that by the time she'd get the letter...she wouldn't be there anymore...but it was just for dramatic effect). THAT is the realism I would NOT want to face being a celebrity...and the reality that no matter how low you are on that 'Celebrity Food Chain Pyramid'...there's someone out there photographing your every move and quite a few who now know your every move...if even for an instant. Do we really need another Rebecca Schaeffer or John Lennon incident to wake these people up to what they are really doing?
04 April 2006
The Best at Being Worst...and Proud of It!
Well, seems it's that time of year again...the dreaded deadline looming ahead like so many ravenous vultures...like so many you lose count - even if you have one of those fancy hand-held metal clicker things that can be punched to 999 before it resets back to zero...then I guess you have to mentally remember that it spun around one whole time already, kinda like when you're dealing out cards and the phone rings and interrupts you midway and you forget who gets the next card, so you just start all over again because someone probably looked at your cards while you were gone anyway. Yep, the 15th of April is fast approaching and soon everyone will be asking each other, "Did you get it in on time? Did you get your entry in?"
"What the heck is she saying??" you might have asked yourself...and what about vultures? Is she talking about the IRS? Accountants? Huh...cards??? "Nay", say I...I'm talking about 'The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest' also referred to as the 'It was a dark and stormy night' competition. You might have read about it when I won the Grand Prize in 2003. Oh, c'mon...it was on the front page of the Montgomery Advertiser...surely you couldn't have forgotten that? Well, okay...maybe you did. Sigh. Let me then enlighten and elucidate...
You see that long sentence I started my blog off with? The one that goes on and on and on and on. Well, that was intentional..and not just because I am a bad writer (oh, keep the remarks to yourselves) but because I was, at least in 2003, proclaimed as the BEST at being the worst. I won the dubious distinction of writing the worst opening line to a fictional novel...and that opening sentence, above, is a little bit like what you'll see in the competition. Need a better, er...um...worse...example? Here is my winning entry:
The rules can be found on their home page...but they are relatively simple. Write the opening line for a fictional novel...make it bad...but make it enjoyably bad. Longer is not necessarily better, but it seems they do tend to favour longer entries...but be careful on your punctuation...there's only so many words you can string together before it gets too monotonous. Monotonous doesn't cut it...badly well written does.
So, do you have what it takes to make the cut? Cut might not be the best choice of words...don't cut...but rather elaborate. Can you write famously bad...to get 14 minutes of fame? All forms of glory can be headed your way...I was interviewed on CNN Live (yes, in the daytime)...and a bunch of other radio/tv stations from California to Australia...I showed up on over 7000 hits on Google...more than Alex Trebek; less than Mel Gibson...my name and entry was in newpapers, literally from Albania to Zimbabwe...I even made the front page of USA Today. In a nutshell, I loved it...can you tell? Okay, so Letterman never called...and Conan O'Brien's people said I probably couldn't fill up six minutes of airtime. Uh huh...right. And Craig Ferguson wasn't around yet...what a pity. But I do try my best to get the word out to people who might not necessarily know about the contest because it really was both a fun experience and an honour to be chosen. Thank you again, Scott Rice.
(Professor Scott Rice, of San Jose University, is the originator of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest which has been running continually since 1982.)
"What the heck is she saying??" you might have asked yourself...and what about vultures? Is she talking about the IRS? Accountants? Huh...cards??? "Nay", say I...I'm talking about 'The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest' also referred to as the 'It was a dark and stormy night' competition. You might have read about it when I won the Grand Prize in 2003. Oh, c'mon...it was on the front page of the Montgomery Advertiser...surely you couldn't have forgotten that? Well, okay...maybe you did. Sigh. Let me then enlighten and elucidate...
You see that long sentence I started my blog off with? The one that goes on and on and on and on. Well, that was intentional..and not just because I am a bad writer (oh, keep the remarks to yourselves) but because I was, at least in 2003, proclaimed as the BEST at being the worst. I won the dubious distinction of writing the worst opening line to a fictional novel...and that opening sentence, above, is a little bit like what you'll see in the competition. Need a better, er...um...worse...example? Here is my winning entry:
They had but one last remaining night together, so they embraced each other as tightly as that two-flavor entwined string cheese that is orange and yellowish-white, the orange probably being a bland Cheddar and the white . . . Mozzarella, although it could possibly be Provolone or just plain American, as it really doesn't taste distinctly dissimilar from the orange, yet they would have you believe it does by coloring it differently.
The rules can be found on their home page...but they are relatively simple. Write the opening line for a fictional novel...make it bad...but make it enjoyably bad. Longer is not necessarily better, but it seems they do tend to favour longer entries...but be careful on your punctuation...there's only so many words you can string together before it gets too monotonous. Monotonous doesn't cut it...badly well written does.
So, do you have what it takes to make the cut? Cut might not be the best choice of words...don't cut...but rather elaborate. Can you write famously bad...to get 14 minutes of fame? All forms of glory can be headed your way...I was interviewed on CNN Live (yes, in the daytime)...and a bunch of other radio/tv stations from California to Australia...I showed up on over 7000 hits on Google...more than Alex Trebek; less than Mel Gibson...my name and entry was in newpapers, literally from Albania to Zimbabwe...I even made the front page of USA Today. In a nutshell, I loved it...can you tell? Okay, so Letterman never called...and Conan O'Brien's people said I probably couldn't fill up six minutes of airtime. Uh huh...right. And Craig Ferguson wasn't around yet...what a pity. But I do try my best to get the word out to people who might not necessarily know about the contest because it really was both a fun experience and an honour to be chosen. Thank you again, Scott Rice.
(Professor Scott Rice, of San Jose University, is the originator of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest which has been running continually since 1982.)
02 April 2006
"The Name's Blonde...Jane Blonde"
Gentlemen prefer blondes...blondes have more fun... Take your pick...but you have to know that blondes do stand out. How many female blonde sex symbols can you name? Mae West, Jean Harlow, Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield and Brigitte Bardot. Now the brunettes: Sophia Loren and Raquel Welch. Sure, there's Gina Lollobrigida (oh think back, people) and Rita Hayworth...but even Rita changed her hair colour more times than you can count (especially if you're blonde)...and her then husband, director/actor Orson Welles, made her dye her hair blonde for "The Lady From Shanghai"...knowing all too well blonde wasn't her shade. Did I mention their marriage was on the skids? Again, I digress...but all humanity knows that, "In the valley of the blonde... the ones with the Midas touch are king"...well, queen, really.
And where would we be without the blonde joke...the consummate airhead...the idyllic counterpart to the less than bright guy...someone to make HIM feel special. The shiny bright object of desire in the bar that all men gravitate toward like a moth to a flame. Have I left out ANY stereotypical blondisms? Maybe one...but maybe I just had a 'blonde moment' and forgot?
I felt some responsibility to explain myself...to vindicate myself...to clarify to those of you who have been reading my blogs and have noticed that I pick on "blondes". I hold absolutely no animosity towards those of the blonde persuasion. I, myself, have been a blonde on more than one occasion. I was even BORN a blonde. I did, however, feel the wrath that nearly all blondes experience. I was even told once...okay...many more times than once...but one stands out in particular...long before those sexual harassment suits came about...that, and I quote...nearly verbatim, altho it's been a few years..."My...I thought you were stupid because you were blonde...you really ARE intelligent, aren't you?" This was at a Civil Engineering staff meeting on an Air Force Base where I used to work. And it was said by someone, let's just say, high up there in authority. Now, I'm not a fool...and not being a fool, especially of the blonde variety, I used this type of mentality to my advantage. When you are blonde and somewhat pretty...people will grant you concessions...people don't expect much from you...it's true...don't believe it...dye your hair. When you do more than what is minimally expected...people nearly worship you. I was placed on a lot of pedestals in my day...and they were all of my doing...chances are if you are placing the fair-haired lady in your office on one...she led you there. Don't even try to deny it...she's much more savvy than you give her credit for...and most times, unfortunately, will ever get credit for. And those are the blondes that I do NOT refer to in my blogs.
The ones that I do pick on...are these types...and usually they aren't even natural blondes. The people who rely on their looks...the ones who think they can slide by each and every time with a wrinkled brow look that, really, only Hugh Grant can pull off...and he's not even blonde! Sorry...we know you aren't blonde either...chances are there's a lot about you that's not real...we could start pointing out a couple if you'd like us to. That laugh you have? The one in the restaurant or bar...the one that grabs everyone's attention like nails grating down a chalkboard? The cackle? Yes, that's about as attractive as that shade of yellow you sport on your head...at least find a colourist who can manage to find a shade that has been IN the Crayola crayon box...one that is known to man? Anyway...you know the type...the superfluous...obnoxious, "no one can be THAT stupid, can they, Jessica 'Chicken of the Sea' Simpson"? Or wait...is that just a clever marketing campaign and you've really got a 160 IQ? Hmmmm....nah.
And where would we be without the blonde joke...the consummate airhead...the idyllic counterpart to the less than bright guy...someone to make HIM feel special. The shiny bright object of desire in the bar that all men gravitate toward like a moth to a flame. Have I left out ANY stereotypical blondisms? Maybe one...but maybe I just had a 'blonde moment' and forgot?
I felt some responsibility to explain myself...to vindicate myself...to clarify to those of you who have been reading my blogs and have noticed that I pick on "blondes". I hold absolutely no animosity towards those of the blonde persuasion. I, myself, have been a blonde on more than one occasion. I was even BORN a blonde. I did, however, feel the wrath that nearly all blondes experience. I was even told once...okay...many more times than once...but one stands out in particular...long before those sexual harassment suits came about...that, and I quote...nearly verbatim, altho it's been a few years..."My...I thought you were stupid because you were blonde...you really ARE intelligent, aren't you?" This was at a Civil Engineering staff meeting on an Air Force Base where I used to work. And it was said by someone, let's just say, high up there in authority. Now, I'm not a fool...and not being a fool, especially of the blonde variety, I used this type of mentality to my advantage. When you are blonde and somewhat pretty...people will grant you concessions...people don't expect much from you...it's true...don't believe it...dye your hair. When you do more than what is minimally expected...people nearly worship you. I was placed on a lot of pedestals in my day...and they were all of my doing...chances are if you are placing the fair-haired lady in your office on one...she led you there. Don't even try to deny it...she's much more savvy than you give her credit for...and most times, unfortunately, will ever get credit for. And those are the blondes that I do NOT refer to in my blogs.
The ones that I do pick on...are these types...and usually they aren't even natural blondes. The people who rely on their looks...the ones who think they can slide by each and every time with a wrinkled brow look that, really, only Hugh Grant can pull off...and he's not even blonde! Sorry...we know you aren't blonde either...chances are there's a lot about you that's not real...we could start pointing out a couple if you'd like us to. That laugh you have? The one in the restaurant or bar...the one that grabs everyone's attention like nails grating down a chalkboard? The cackle? Yes, that's about as attractive as that shade of yellow you sport on your head...at least find a colourist who can manage to find a shade that has been IN the Crayola crayon box...one that is known to man? Anyway...you know the type...the superfluous...obnoxious, "no one can be THAT stupid, can they, Jessica 'Chicken of the Sea' Simpson"? Or wait...is that just a clever marketing campaign and you've really got a 160 IQ? Hmmmm....nah.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)