Ok, the title may be misleading... Considering my idea of ‘classic cinema’ consists of The Goonies and Clueless and the fact that I have never even seen The Way We Were, this post is pretty much an open letter to the writers and producers of Glee. As one of their most avid fans, I’m sure they will take heed.
Britney Spears and Glee. They might be two of my favorite things in their respective forms of entertainment and genres. So the marriage of the two could only give birth to a bouncing and extremely gay baby I’d name Sethly. I was fully fed, in great company, and crowning with excitement. However, enjoying the Brittany/Britney episode was about as painful as actual childbirth. Luckily, after the hour was over, there wasn’t an annoyingly expensive child around.
All great shows do it at one point or another. Now, I’m not saying Glee has ‘jumped the shark’ as of yet, but there are definitely fins breaching the water. This is only the second episode of the second season, and it seems that Ryan Murphy is trying to pull the same hat trick he did with The Power Of Madonna. Now, that was an epic television event! Instead of interpreting/updating the covers of Britney classics, the producers merely regurgitated them less successfully. To add insult to injury, there were little to no, scratch that, absolutely no attempts to even TRY and write the songs into the show in a relevant way…
One of my favorite parts of Glee is clearly the music and Mr. Shue’s cute butt-chin. The most entertaining aspect of the music, and what makes me keep some of the songs on repeat on my iPod, is the emotional connection to that was tied to the musical selection. ‘Keep Holding On’ and ‘Take A Bow’ were tragic when sung by their original artists by tie on Quinn’s teen pregnancy and Rachel’s heartbreak, and these songs might just be some of my favorites. And, we all LOVE ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ because, well it’s freaking ‘Don’t Stop Believing.’ But also because the gleeks were trying to re-inspire their super hot teacher and it convinced him to stay. (Admittedly, I cried like a drunk baby during ALL three of those numbers).
Speaking of tired hat tricks, the Brittany one-liners are particularly amazing because they are few and far between and come out of nowhere. The writers and producers need to bring Glee back to the way they were. Make an attempt to actually write the songs INTO the very little and sporadic storyline efforts you spin out every week! And musical producers, get creative with the numbers. Reinterpret them and put a Glee twist on them, don’t just have the cast (not as successfully) do straight covers that don’t come close to even honoring the originals. )Yes, I’m talking to you ‘Telephone’ and ‘Empire State Of Mind’). G
Overall missteps: ‘Baby One More Time’ was keyed WAY too high for Lea Michele, Mercedes didn’t sing a lick, ‘Stronger’ was as bad as Mr, Shue’s ‘Toxic’ was painfully awkward, the lack of any recent Britney songs, NO mash-up, and John Stamos didn’t take his shirt off.
Minor highlights: John Stamos, Brittany’s body and R-I-DICULOUS dancing, John Stamos, Britney looking ferocious in her cameos, and John Stamos.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
next to godliness.
I have long decided that instead of going back to school to get an MBA and/or some other graduate level degree, I will save myself a five-figure student loan and invest my time and money in a lifetime subscription to Real Simple Magazine. Who needs an MBA when I can get my MRS?
Anyway, I love Real Simple Magazine. It has all the helpful and useful tips that comes with Martha Stewart Living and all the good recipes of Southern Living. Only better because there is no Martha Stewart and far less butter. So, I for those of you who don’t frequently read this incredible monthly periodical, I figured I decided to share some tips I’ve read about and successfully implemented over the years.
Buckle up kids, your microwave isn’t just for putting marshmallows in to see them explode. (If you’ve never tried this, please drop whatever you’re doing and try it!) First of all, not like they’re expensive, but here’s a really good way to disinfect and keep your sponges smelling fresher: get one damp with a little vinegar or lemon juice and throw it in the microwave for about 45 seconds. It’s almost like magic! (This same technique also works wonders for disinfecting plastic cutting boards.)
Now, everyone has done it before. You’ve heated up leftover spaghetti or some other dish that might as well had an M-80 buried in it for what it did to your microwave. Well, to scrub out those particularly indelible stains and splatters, save your elbow grease for your oven and get a bowl of water, add some baking soda, and throw it in the microwave for 5-6 minutes. The steam produced helps loosen up all that junk and it will wipe clean in seconds. I did this and felt like I was on an infomercial actor I was so elated.
Everyone believes that club soda can get just about ANYTHING out, but here are some alternatives. Red wine stains are the worst. If you drink it like me, there are bound to be spills. If and when this happens to you, immediately pour a mound of table salt over the fresh (still wet) stain. This is a first-response remedy and will do very little for a dried Pinot plunder. Also, if you like to live on the edge and not use a pocket protector, ink stains are bound to occur. Any sort of ink stain will respond to alcohol. So, instead of wasting good vodka, spray a little hairspray over the stain before throwing it in the wash.
In terms of organization, instead of throwing out old Kleenex boxes, use them to store and dispense the hundreds of plastic bags you get from the grocery. Even if you use the ‘green’ canvas totes like I do, I like to get the grocery bags on occasion for later reuse (i.e. – lining trashcans and occasionally leaving flaming bags of “business” on people’s porches). Also, if you like to cheat cook and use crock pots, my sister-in-law now swears by the Reynolds Wrap liners. They are bit pricey for the amount you get, but the time and effort saved in scrubbing up after a daylong cooking of a pot roast makes these babies worth their weight in gold.
Finally, don’t over think it. Four words: Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. IT. WILL. GET. OUT. ANYTHING.
Hopefully these tips are useful and if you have any to share, feel free! In the meantime, I’m going to continue my training to be a stay at home mom (minus the kids). I guess that would make me a trophy wife. In that case, I would probably need a subscription to Men’s Fitness and Buttz Magazine (that’s right… with a “Z”). Just kidding, I’m probably NOT going to get the Men’s Fitness one…
Anyway, I love Real Simple Magazine. It has all the helpful and useful tips that comes with Martha Stewart Living and all the good recipes of Southern Living. Only better because there is no Martha Stewart and far less butter. So, I for those of you who don’t frequently read this incredible monthly periodical, I figured I decided to share some tips I’ve read about and successfully implemented over the years.
Buckle up kids, your microwave isn’t just for putting marshmallows in to see them explode. (If you’ve never tried this, please drop whatever you’re doing and try it!) First of all, not like they’re expensive, but here’s a really good way to disinfect and keep your sponges smelling fresher: get one damp with a little vinegar or lemon juice and throw it in the microwave for about 45 seconds. It’s almost like magic! (This same technique also works wonders for disinfecting plastic cutting boards.)
Now, everyone has done it before. You’ve heated up leftover spaghetti or some other dish that might as well had an M-80 buried in it for what it did to your microwave. Well, to scrub out those particularly indelible stains and splatters, save your elbow grease for your oven and get a bowl of water, add some baking soda, and throw it in the microwave for 5-6 minutes. The steam produced helps loosen up all that junk and it will wipe clean in seconds. I did this and felt like I was on an infomercial actor I was so elated.
Everyone believes that club soda can get just about ANYTHING out, but here are some alternatives. Red wine stains are the worst. If you drink it like me, there are bound to be spills. If and when this happens to you, immediately pour a mound of table salt over the fresh (still wet) stain. This is a first-response remedy and will do very little for a dried Pinot plunder. Also, if you like to live on the edge and not use a pocket protector, ink stains are bound to occur. Any sort of ink stain will respond to alcohol. So, instead of wasting good vodka, spray a little hairspray over the stain before throwing it in the wash.
In terms of organization, instead of throwing out old Kleenex boxes, use them to store and dispense the hundreds of plastic bags you get from the grocery. Even if you use the ‘green’ canvas totes like I do, I like to get the grocery bags on occasion for later reuse (i.e. – lining trashcans and occasionally leaving flaming bags of “business” on people’s porches). Also, if you like to cheat cook and use crock pots, my sister-in-law now swears by the Reynolds Wrap liners. They are bit pricey for the amount you get, but the time and effort saved in scrubbing up after a daylong cooking of a pot roast makes these babies worth their weight in gold.
Finally, don’t over think it. Four words: Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. IT. WILL. GET. OUT. ANYTHING.
Hopefully these tips are useful and if you have any to share, feel free! In the meantime, I’m going to continue my training to be a stay at home mom (minus the kids). I guess that would make me a trophy wife. In that case, I would probably need a subscription to Men’s Fitness and Buttz Magazine (that’s right… with a “Z”). Just kidding, I’m probably NOT going to get the Men’s Fitness one…
Thursday, September 23, 2010
When I was your age...
I’m not exactly filling out my AARP membership application, but I’m definitely not a child anymore. As I see this new generation, (Generation I, I think they’re calling it), I am saddened by all of the things they are missing out on that have been replaced by inaccurately self-proclaimed “new and improved” changes. Sure, their road trips now include DVD players and children without a full set of adult teeth sport iPhones, but I was perfectly content with my Tamagotchi pet that died A LOT!
Some of these changes make me sad, but more often than not, they just piss me off. I mean, I grew up with awesome entertainment that consisted of X-Men, Wishbone, and the Power Rangers. These kids don’t even have Mr. Rogers to teach them how to put on your snappy cardigan and penny loafers in what seems like slow motion. Instead, they have Dora who is CONSTANTLY bossing them around and teaching them Spanish. I hate her. I seriously want to put a bomb in Backpack. Adios, chica! Speaking of cartoons, what does this new generation have against old-fashioned pen to paper animation? I love Pixar’s innovations for computer animation. I bawled like a small, mentally challenged girl in Toy Story 3. But old-school NON-3D animated adventures will forever rank above any clownfish, trash-picking robot, or talking cowboy doll.
Similarly, video games have become the bane of my existence. Probably one of the only Asian stereotypes that come close to applying to me is the fact that I was a child of the old Nintendo game consoles. My addiction to Zelda, Goldeneye, Mario, and Final Fantasy was in the ballpark of crystal meth. The games were easy, predictable, and you played in one dimension. Now, games are so advanced that I can’t even play them. That’s right, I’m too stupid for the Wii. The graphics have also become so realistic, I feel guilty for shooting the dirkas in Modern Warfare… These games are creepy realistic (like all the CGI in Star Wars: Attack of the Clones).
The primary thing that pisses me off about the next generation (of kids, not the Star Trek series), is how we treat them and how they treat each other. Kids are considered smarter and I’m sure there’s some 8th grade girl who can long division circles around me. They are constantly afforded more and more so-called rights as a kid in terms of freedom of expression and heaven forbid you spank one. Simultaneously, parents these days are constantly treating them like invalids that need to be sheltered. Which brings me to my second point: bullying. All this cyber bullying that is driving kids to suicide is dumb on the parts of both bully and victim. When I was a kid, the bullies had the balls to call me a ‘chink’ to my face! And team selection during recess kickball simply prepared losers for their future lives. Top tier schools can’t admit EVERYBODY. Sometimes in life, you just get picked last. No, it doesn’t feel good, but don’t kill yourself! Looking back on those yet to be repressed memories, I think it was some excellent character building.
Kids these days could learn a lot from me. My parents whipped me with such frequency and fervor I was certain it was some part-time job they had taken for extra cash. Kids could benefit from a simple life. I mean, I don’t remember kids going all Annie Oakley on their classmates back in the days when I was a card-carrying member of the Burger King Kids Club. The only thing we shot were ducks, and, to no avail, that damned laughing dog…
Some of these changes make me sad, but more often than not, they just piss me off. I mean, I grew up with awesome entertainment that consisted of X-Men, Wishbone, and the Power Rangers. These kids don’t even have Mr. Rogers to teach them how to put on your snappy cardigan and penny loafers in what seems like slow motion. Instead, they have Dora who is CONSTANTLY bossing them around and teaching them Spanish. I hate her. I seriously want to put a bomb in Backpack. Adios, chica! Speaking of cartoons, what does this new generation have against old-fashioned pen to paper animation? I love Pixar’s innovations for computer animation. I bawled like a small, mentally challenged girl in Toy Story 3. But old-school NON-3D animated adventures will forever rank above any clownfish, trash-picking robot, or talking cowboy doll.
Similarly, video games have become the bane of my existence. Probably one of the only Asian stereotypes that come close to applying to me is the fact that I was a child of the old Nintendo game consoles. My addiction to Zelda, Goldeneye, Mario, and Final Fantasy was in the ballpark of crystal meth. The games were easy, predictable, and you played in one dimension. Now, games are so advanced that I can’t even play them. That’s right, I’m too stupid for the Wii. The graphics have also become so realistic, I feel guilty for shooting the dirkas in Modern Warfare… These games are creepy realistic (like all the CGI in Star Wars: Attack of the Clones).
The primary thing that pisses me off about the next generation (of kids, not the Star Trek series), is how we treat them and how they treat each other. Kids are considered smarter and I’m sure there’s some 8th grade girl who can long division circles around me. They are constantly afforded more and more so-called rights as a kid in terms of freedom of expression and heaven forbid you spank one. Simultaneously, parents these days are constantly treating them like invalids that need to be sheltered. Which brings me to my second point: bullying. All this cyber bullying that is driving kids to suicide is dumb on the parts of both bully and victim. When I was a kid, the bullies had the balls to call me a ‘chink’ to my face! And team selection during recess kickball simply prepared losers for their future lives. Top tier schools can’t admit EVERYBODY. Sometimes in life, you just get picked last. No, it doesn’t feel good, but don’t kill yourself! Looking back on those yet to be repressed memories, I think it was some excellent character building.
Kids these days could learn a lot from me. My parents whipped me with such frequency and fervor I was certain it was some part-time job they had taken for extra cash. Kids could benefit from a simple life. I mean, I don’t remember kids going all Annie Oakley on their classmates back in the days when I was a card-carrying member of the Burger King Kids Club. The only thing we shot were ducks, and, to no avail, that damned laughing dog…
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
shallow waters run deep.
Going to the gym has exposed me to a whole new world of physical fitness, short shorts, and distractingly beautiful hard bodies. If I had a dollar for every time I forgot what rep I was on, what exercise I was supposed to be doing, or almost fell of the treadmill, I would, at the very least, have my gym membership more than paid for.
Anyway, I was ogling some naughty little body the other day, and let’s just say this meat sack had it all… well… almost. When sizing up new talent, I always start from top and work my way down. Hair: good. Face: great. Body: OMG. Shoes: Fail! No offense intended but those shoe/gloves/toe-socks/water shoes have to be the most unattractive things you could possibly put on your feet. I mean, you could do a foot puppet show with dead weasels, and I would only be slightly more offended. Unfortunately, this was quite the deal breaker. It would be like whipping up a beautiful, homemade key lime pie (my favie) and instead of crust, you used dog poo.
It might seem shallow to judge someone on such a seemingly insignificant flaw. But, I feel such horrible isolated incidents (shoes, haircuts, Ed Hardy t-shirts, etc) reflect a deeper issue of a person’s taste and judgment. Shallow waters run deep. This super-hot guy clearly picked these shoes out, spent good money on them, and wears them habitually in places where people can see him. I mean, I bought and LOVE my Snuggie, but I don’t wear it anywhere but home… alone! What happens if and when I’m dating this person and they decide to buy me a gift? Normally, I would like to see how something like that would play out, but I don’t see it ending well.
On a different trip to the gym, there was this guy who was b-e-a-utiful. He had big beefy, Disney prince arms and it seemed this engine was firing on cylinders. However, Prince Eric’s doppelganger’s hair was much more like a Muppet character. (And it wasn’t gross working out hair, you could tell this guy THOUGHT it resembled some sort of style). Most people would say, “but you can always change his hair.” But, why should I waste my time and energy changing anything about another person? It might be just hair, but this guy can stomach looking in the mirror everyday at that insane do and has done nothing about it. I just want someone who has taste, a job, and doesn’t beat me. Is that too much to ask?
These types of people clearly have big issues with making important decisions. I mean your hair is your head suit. If they can’t use good judgment on their personal appearance or care enough, who’s to say they will be able to properly take care of the less superficial things in life?
Hair, shoes, posture, or any other seemingly materialistic, skin deep thing speak volumes. Being concerned about your personal appearance doesn’t make you shallow, it just means you respect yourself. I definitely don’t define myself by my outer appearance, and I’m not particularly fond of my nose, but I believe you should ALWAYS put your best foot forward. Finally, like the source of almost every other aspect of my personal set of values, I’ll leave you with wise words from Ru Paul, “If you can't love yourself, how the hell are you gonna love someone else?!”
Anyway, I was ogling some naughty little body the other day, and let’s just say this meat sack had it all… well… almost. When sizing up new talent, I always start from top and work my way down. Hair: good. Face: great. Body: OMG. Shoes: Fail! No offense intended but those shoe/gloves/toe-socks/water shoes have to be the most unattractive things you could possibly put on your feet. I mean, you could do a foot puppet show with dead weasels, and I would only be slightly more offended. Unfortunately, this was quite the deal breaker. It would be like whipping up a beautiful, homemade key lime pie (my favie) and instead of crust, you used dog poo.
It might seem shallow to judge someone on such a seemingly insignificant flaw. But, I feel such horrible isolated incidents (shoes, haircuts, Ed Hardy t-shirts, etc) reflect a deeper issue of a person’s taste and judgment. Shallow waters run deep. This super-hot guy clearly picked these shoes out, spent good money on them, and wears them habitually in places where people can see him. I mean, I bought and LOVE my Snuggie, but I don’t wear it anywhere but home… alone! What happens if and when I’m dating this person and they decide to buy me a gift? Normally, I would like to see how something like that would play out, but I don’t see it ending well.
On a different trip to the gym, there was this guy who was b-e-a-utiful. He had big beefy, Disney prince arms and it seemed this engine was firing on cylinders. However, Prince Eric’s doppelganger’s hair was much more like a Muppet character. (And it wasn’t gross working out hair, you could tell this guy THOUGHT it resembled some sort of style). Most people would say, “but you can always change his hair.” But, why should I waste my time and energy changing anything about another person? It might be just hair, but this guy can stomach looking in the mirror everyday at that insane do and has done nothing about it. I just want someone who has taste, a job, and doesn’t beat me. Is that too much to ask?
These types of people clearly have big issues with making important decisions. I mean your hair is your head suit. If they can’t use good judgment on their personal appearance or care enough, who’s to say they will be able to properly take care of the less superficial things in life?
Hair, shoes, posture, or any other seemingly materialistic, skin deep thing speak volumes. Being concerned about your personal appearance doesn’t make you shallow, it just means you respect yourself. I definitely don’t define myself by my outer appearance, and I’m not particularly fond of my nose, but I believe you should ALWAYS put your best foot forward. Finally, like the source of almost every other aspect of my personal set of values, I’ll leave you with wise words from Ru Paul, “If you can't love yourself, how the hell are you gonna love someone else?!”
Monday, September 20, 2010
supermaket sweep.
Like so many of my other relationships I keep, the John Boerger + grocery store union is one of love/hate. As complicated as it is, I think these types of relationships are usually the best. They are always dynamic, they keep me on my toes, but the cost (hate) benefit (love) analysis always comes up with overall satisfaction. Not to mention, it is absolutely necessary because girl’s gotta eat.
I’ve probably thrown up a facebook status (or twelve) about running back to the grocery store because I’m an idiot and forgot that most cakes require sugar as a key component and I hate my neighbors or that I’m stuck behind an ethnic woman and her eleven-ish children resisting the urge to backhand them all. And I’m pretty sure everyone has been stuck behind the elderly/dying couple who can barely operate a cell phone but feel up to the challenge to tackle the Self Checkout with an overflowing cart. FML. I am VERY proud to say I have personally told that A-hole who can’t count to 15 and feels they are entitled to use the express lane with enough groceries to feed the cast of “Dance You’re A** Off” to go to a regular checkout. Finally, probably my biggest annoyance at the grocery and life in general for that matter, is the people who walk as if they were wearing Manolo Cinderblocks. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, “Life’s short, walk fast!”
Clearly, the only thing I have negative to say about the grocery would have to be the people. Like the movies, restaurants, and my commute to and from work, if there weren’t any other people, I would be elated. I have actually taken to wearing my iPod to the store and it has dramatically lowered my blood pressure and, like good couple’s counseling, revived the spark that made me love those aisles and shelves in the first place. One of my earliest memories is going to the grocery store with my mom (I have successfully repressed the memory of being almost LEFT, so that’s water under the bridge). Anyway, I was fascinated by all the seemingly endless fields of food and it was my life goal to be a grocery checker.
I suppose my love of the grocery store is pretty black and white. For the most part, I approach those sliding glass doors a lot how I approach life. It’s organized, predictable, and there is section dedicated entirely to cheese which is usually conveniently located next to the bacon! Regardless of my mood or time of day, it’s always there for me offering nourishment (or my loose interpretation of what’s good for my body.) Walking through the aisles of produce, meat, and dairy is therapeutic. I sometimes go 3 or 4 times a week. Whether I am planning my meals for the week, whipping up a quick snack, or simply out of hair spray, I enjoy knowing that my needs will be met and on the rare occasion they are out of something, there is very little disappointment. There are even pleasant surprises when you either get inspiration for dinner by strolling through and reviewing ingredients or the occasional sale item.
There are days that I have to literally drag myself to the Krogers, but I more often than not leave with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. I guess that’s what we all want out of any venture in life.
PS - Whatever happened to Supermarket Sweep? If it is NOT cancelled, please let me know where to send my entry video submission!!!
Friday, September 17, 2010
tennis + the art of love-making
Anyone who has a moderate acquaintance with the game of tennis knows that if and when you play an inferior player, your game suffers. This concept easily translates to any number of other social activities (i.e. – the tango, the art of love-making, etc.). The bottom line is, you have to give as good as you get, and, no, this isn’t a dirty, boom-boom blog, because 1) I have family and coworkers on here, and 2) a magician (unlike a lot of people I know) never reveals his tricks, and 3) tacky!
So, I have this co-worker who is a textbook definition of a Chatty Kathy. I mean, I know I talk a lot and I do, but this guy… flurge! He can and will talk to just about any person within ear shot. Now, you might say he’s just friendly and outgoing, and to that I reply, no. He is weird, socially awkward, and can also be cross-referenced in that same textbook under “Amber Alert.” I’m actually not that outgoing of a person. I’m not very comfortable around new people because I never know how they will respond to my particular brand of personality. I usually say it’s so I don’t offend them by saying something ‘off color,’ but in all honesty, I don’t want to dive into a boring social interaction without a life jacket and/or arsenic capsule.
If you’ve been around me when I’m around the right people, the frequency of my talking is probably only rivaled by the volume of that talking. If you’re boring, I can’t just start a conversation with you. Small talk is the tool of the ignorant. (I would like to think I coined that phrase). Because, anyone can do it. Weather, current events, and my personal go-to favorite if and when I have to be wrangled into a horrible conversation, TV (i.e. – Glee and/or 30 Rock). That’s right, if I have just met you and start talking about TV, I probably think you are boring and am struggling to maintain a ‘conversation’ whilst looking for an escape route.
Now, I’m never (again) NEVER a person to turn away from a compliment. When people say I’m funny, I never really get it. I mean clever or witty, maybe. But, I think a more accurate description would be ‘fun.’ I could never do standup comedy, because I can’t just stand in front of a mildly interactive group of people and just be funny. Like in conversation, I have to be interacting with the right people.
Some of my favorite people possess vibrant, fun, boisterous personalities that make me up my game. However, some of the most boring people I know might not think I like them very much. I’m not going talk walk up to them and start a conversation because I know exactly how it will go. “Hi. Hey. What’s up? Super! Cool… … … … So.. that Rachel sure can sing… … … Ok. See you around.” The ellipses are me either looking around, fiddling with my iPod or BlackBerry, or formulating excuses as to why I have begun crying. At best, you’ll get a nod, a smile, and if I’m in a particularly good mood, some finger guns shooting your way. I would consider winking if I weren’t such an awkward winker.
Simply put, like the “oh no she didn’t” line of any/all cheerleading/dance movies, when it comes to tennis, boom-boom, and conversation, you betta ba-ring it!
So, I have this co-worker who is a textbook definition of a Chatty Kathy. I mean, I know I talk a lot and I do, but this guy… flurge! He can and will talk to just about any person within ear shot. Now, you might say he’s just friendly and outgoing, and to that I reply, no. He is weird, socially awkward, and can also be cross-referenced in that same textbook under “Amber Alert.” I’m actually not that outgoing of a person. I’m not very comfortable around new people because I never know how they will respond to my particular brand of personality. I usually say it’s so I don’t offend them by saying something ‘off color,’ but in all honesty, I don’t want to dive into a boring social interaction without a life jacket and/or arsenic capsule.
If you’ve been around me when I’m around the right people, the frequency of my talking is probably only rivaled by the volume of that talking. If you’re boring, I can’t just start a conversation with you. Small talk is the tool of the ignorant. (I would like to think I coined that phrase). Because, anyone can do it. Weather, current events, and my personal go-to favorite if and when I have to be wrangled into a horrible conversation, TV (i.e. – Glee and/or 30 Rock). That’s right, if I have just met you and start talking about TV, I probably think you are boring and am struggling to maintain a ‘conversation’ whilst looking for an escape route.
Now, I’m never (again) NEVER a person to turn away from a compliment. When people say I’m funny, I never really get it. I mean clever or witty, maybe. But, I think a more accurate description would be ‘fun.’ I could never do standup comedy, because I can’t just stand in front of a mildly interactive group of people and just be funny. Like in conversation, I have to be interacting with the right people.
Some of my favorite people possess vibrant, fun, boisterous personalities that make me up my game. However, some of the most boring people I know might not think I like them very much. I’m not going talk walk up to them and start a conversation because I know exactly how it will go. “Hi. Hey. What’s up? Super! Cool… … … … So.. that Rachel sure can sing… … … Ok. See you around.” The ellipses are me either looking around, fiddling with my iPod or BlackBerry, or formulating excuses as to why I have begun crying. At best, you’ll get a nod, a smile, and if I’m in a particularly good mood, some finger guns shooting your way. I would consider winking if I weren’t such an awkward winker.
Simply put, like the “oh no she didn’t” line of any/all cheerleading/dance movies, when it comes to tennis, boom-boom, and conversation, you betta ba-ring it!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I should have thought of that...
I would like to think that I’m rather creative. I mean, not like that gnarly painting elephant creative, but innovative really. That’s why I believe some of my following suggestions should be give the green light to reality as soon as possible.
The Summer Snuggie. Now, I’m not sure who exactly came up with the original idea for these things, but I want to immediately find whoever did give him/her a big dirty open-mouth kiss. A blanket… with SLEEVES. However, come the summer months in Dallas, wrapping yourself in a blanket of any kind is akin to simply lighting oneself on fire. So, if the good people at Snuggie could start making them in lighter fabrics that breathe better, I could still wrap up on my couch in my underwear, mid-July and enjoy Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. Which brings me to my next point…
Charlie’s Angels: 3 (clearly only a working title). We (meaning me) all loved the first two. They were light on story, big on comedy, and over-the-top with action. I’m not asking for them to save time for Drew Barrymore’s Oscar acceptance speech and sure, John Forsyth is dead, but if watching Fox’s hit, 24, has taught me anything, we have the technology to recreate his voice. Hollywood has been letting Freddy Krueger terrorize Elm Street for the better part of my lifetime, but they can’t roll another one of these out? Drew Barrymore’s last movie was with that dumb Mac guy ex of hers, Cameron Diaz’s face is getting weirder every day, and Lucy Liu has like 5 failed TV shows under her belt. These women, (meaning me), need this movie!
And last but certainly not least, microwaveable bacon (that doesn’t suck). The microwave: awesome. I mean throw a butter knife into one, and set it on “Defrost” (I find this the most exciting setting) and you’re in for quite the show. Bacon: the best thing to happen to meat of ever. They don’t call it “The Candy of Meats” for nothing. We live in a world where iPods have become the size of one’s fat cousin’s pinky and recording studios can actually make Katy Perry’s voice NOT make my ears bleed. How is it scientists, engineers, and dreamers, really, can’t make a bacon product that tastes good and retains a delicious texture when popped into a fun cooker? The stuff out there now seems like a good idea, but just tastes downright insulting. Let’s just cancel NASA (no one cares anymore) and get those guys on this.
Here’s a short list of things that need to GO BACK to the way they were: iTunes, video games (they’re too hard now), Kelly Clarkson’s BMI, The Black Eyed Peas, movies (3D makes me wanna barf), the Acura TL, and Whitney Houston.
The Summer Snuggie. Now, I’m not sure who exactly came up with the original idea for these things, but I want to immediately find whoever did give him/her a big dirty open-mouth kiss. A blanket… with SLEEVES. However, come the summer months in Dallas, wrapping yourself in a blanket of any kind is akin to simply lighting oneself on fire. So, if the good people at Snuggie could start making them in lighter fabrics that breathe better, I could still wrap up on my couch in my underwear, mid-July and enjoy Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. Which brings me to my next point…
Charlie’s Angels: 3 (clearly only a working title). We (meaning me) all loved the first two. They were light on story, big on comedy, and over-the-top with action. I’m not asking for them to save time for Drew Barrymore’s Oscar acceptance speech and sure, John Forsyth is dead, but if watching Fox’s hit, 24, has taught me anything, we have the technology to recreate his voice. Hollywood has been letting Freddy Krueger terrorize Elm Street for the better part of my lifetime, but they can’t roll another one of these out? Drew Barrymore’s last movie was with that dumb Mac guy ex of hers, Cameron Diaz’s face is getting weirder every day, and Lucy Liu has like 5 failed TV shows under her belt. These women, (meaning me), need this movie!
And last but certainly not least, microwaveable bacon (that doesn’t suck). The microwave: awesome. I mean throw a butter knife into one, and set it on “Defrost” (I find this the most exciting setting) and you’re in for quite the show. Bacon: the best thing to happen to meat of ever. They don’t call it “The Candy of Meats” for nothing. We live in a world where iPods have become the size of one’s fat cousin’s pinky and recording studios can actually make Katy Perry’s voice NOT make my ears bleed. How is it scientists, engineers, and dreamers, really, can’t make a bacon product that tastes good and retains a delicious texture when popped into a fun cooker? The stuff out there now seems like a good idea, but just tastes downright insulting. Let’s just cancel NASA (no one cares anymore) and get those guys on this.
Here’s a short list of things that need to GO BACK to the way they were: iTunes, video games (they’re too hard now), Kelly Clarkson’s BMI, The Black Eyed Peas, movies (3D makes me wanna barf), the Acura TL, and Whitney Houston.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
great expectations.
Considering my expertise on classic literature consists of owning the movie “Little Women” and the last book I read was written by Chelsea Handler, it’s odd that my post was inspired by (the title, not the actual content (cause I have no idea what the content is)) the Charles Dickens’s classic, “Great Expectations.”
I live my life by expectations. In my personal opinion/experience, there is nothing worse than a surprise. Even events or things classified as “pleasant’ surprises make me more uncomfortable than riding coach between potential candidates for the “Biggest Loser.” While I have always craved a surprise birthday party, I think I would be horrified if it ever truly happened. My luck, I probably would be just in from the gym looking like I was rode hard and put to bed wet or walking in with some embarrassing CVS and/or KFC purchase and be mortified that all of my friends saw my jumbo tampons and/or me about to dive into a Double Down head first.
From those of you with personal experience, whether we are en route to a restaurant I’ve never been to, planning a new vacation, or a party where I don’t know a majority of the guest list, you might as well be Batman talking to the Riddler. I’m big on details and what to expect at any and all events, big or small, so I’m full of questions to prepare myself. A new experience without well outlined details makes me believe it’s very likely I would be Elle Woods in that Playgirl Bunny outfit. I doubt I would handle such a shocker with such class and grace. I like to feel mentally prepared for just about any good or bad thing that could/will happen. It’s a matter of feeling prepared.
Unfortunately, the real Band-Aid in the burrito is that this preparation often leads to my self-determined disappointment. On a frivolous note, new albums from artists I’ve loved forever face a set high expectations that usually lead to me not liking an otherwise excellent EP. Even this summer’s Lady GaGa concert was mildly disappointing because I had all these preconceptions about how her show should go… I felt the same way about the Glee finale overall as well.
Parties, vacations, music, and TV are one thing, but I inevitably apply this same mental exercise to people. Whether it is family, friends, or a potential Mr. John Boerger, I drown my mental image of them with heavy layers of expectations that are based on everything from past precedent or limited, fleeting interactions. I mentally storyboard an unrealistic idea of how people should treat me, respond to my personality, laugh at my jokes, etc. It’s mentally exhausting and emotionally draining when I have to rationalize that people aren’t jerks just because they didn’t live up to my overreaching, idealistic expectations I set for them.
There’s a wildly reasonable possibility I’m nutty as squirrel s***, but I think (a.k.a. expect) that there are other people out there who unfortunately apply this practice to their lives as well… If you are one of those people who are constantly carefree, go with the flow, and live life fast and loose, I envy/despise you. Maybe it’s a product of my need to be in control, my self-prescribed borderline OCD, or the fact that I watch way too much TV and movies that live in a land of idealism/predictability, but I’ve got to snap out of it and just let life happen.
PS - In the spirit of full disclosure, that last part is NEVER going to happen. But just like when I tell myself to simply order just 1 Whopper instead of 2 when I roll through the BK Drive-Thru, saying is the first step towards doing. Right?!
I live my life by expectations. In my personal opinion/experience, there is nothing worse than a surprise. Even events or things classified as “pleasant’ surprises make me more uncomfortable than riding coach between potential candidates for the “Biggest Loser.” While I have always craved a surprise birthday party, I think I would be horrified if it ever truly happened. My luck, I probably would be just in from the gym looking like I was rode hard and put to bed wet or walking in with some embarrassing CVS and/or KFC purchase and be mortified that all of my friends saw my jumbo tampons and/or me about to dive into a Double Down head first.
From those of you with personal experience, whether we are en route to a restaurant I’ve never been to, planning a new vacation, or a party where I don’t know a majority of the guest list, you might as well be Batman talking to the Riddler. I’m big on details and what to expect at any and all events, big or small, so I’m full of questions to prepare myself. A new experience without well outlined details makes me believe it’s very likely I would be Elle Woods in that Playgirl Bunny outfit. I doubt I would handle such a shocker with such class and grace. I like to feel mentally prepared for just about any good or bad thing that could/will happen. It’s a matter of feeling prepared.
Unfortunately, the real Band-Aid in the burrito is that this preparation often leads to my self-determined disappointment. On a frivolous note, new albums from artists I’ve loved forever face a set high expectations that usually lead to me not liking an otherwise excellent EP. Even this summer’s Lady GaGa concert was mildly disappointing because I had all these preconceptions about how her show should go… I felt the same way about the Glee finale overall as well.
Parties, vacations, music, and TV are one thing, but I inevitably apply this same mental exercise to people. Whether it is family, friends, or a potential Mr. John Boerger, I drown my mental image of them with heavy layers of expectations that are based on everything from past precedent or limited, fleeting interactions. I mentally storyboard an unrealistic idea of how people should treat me, respond to my personality, laugh at my jokes, etc. It’s mentally exhausting and emotionally draining when I have to rationalize that people aren’t jerks just because they didn’t live up to my overreaching, idealistic expectations I set for them.
There’s a wildly reasonable possibility I’m nutty as squirrel s***, but I think (a.k.a. expect) that there are other people out there who unfortunately apply this practice to their lives as well… If you are one of those people who are constantly carefree, go with the flow, and live life fast and loose, I envy/despise you. Maybe it’s a product of my need to be in control, my self-prescribed borderline OCD, or the fact that I watch way too much TV and movies that live in a land of idealism/predictability, but I’ve got to snap out of it and just let life happen.
PS - In the spirit of full disclosure, that last part is NEVER going to happen. But just like when I tell myself to simply order just 1 Whopper instead of 2 when I roll through the BK Drive-Thru, saying is the first step towards doing. Right?!
Monday, September 13, 2010
are you ready for some football?!
Facebook statuses, office water-cooler talk, and media airwaves a blaze makes just about anyone with a head realize that football season is in full swing. This fills me with a wide variety of mixed emotions...
This may come as a shock to some of you, but I particularly love football. Well… love could be a bit of a stretch… let’s call it a very strong ‘appreciation.’ I do know the ins and outs of the game (for the most part), and even have a system of favorite teams based on the hotness of the players. I enjoy college ball more than professional because it is more exciting and most of the players haven’t truly achieved the level of douche baggery that plagues professional teams. Yes, I’m looking at you Tom Brady and any receiver that has a victory dance named after you.
That picture aside, I do like football and most sports in general. Do I follow them with the weird quasi-religious fervor usually reserved Trekkies and/or cults that have high monthly dues and end in mass suicides? No. Can I name every position, player, and his personal stats all the way back to when they played high school ball? Absolutely not. Can I play even football?! Probably not, but if I were much larger I think I would want to play center for obvious reasons.
Anyway… all of this actually leads to why I absolutely hate football and/or most professional/popular sports (especially baseball). Those fans. I mean, I think it’s cool to have your passions. I am proud of the random knowledge I know about some of my favorite musical artists, TV shows, and, could be classified as 'Trekkie adjacent.' But, all of my knowledge of just about anything doesn’t rival the amount of mental energy and time some losers put into miscellaneous sports facts.
In fact, some of the dumbest people I know can easily recall figures, stats, and players about as well as I know no one looks sexy in a Bolo tie. In my personal experience 3 out of 5 of these insane fans don’t look like they could even play a football game (or even watch one for that matter) without getting short of breath. They have beer guts, little to no muscle mass or coordination, and are unfortunate looking at best. I mean, seriously, to be such an avid fan of something, you would think these people have some personal experience in a related field… (and having a Fantasy Football team does NOT count).
Finally, when it comes to college ball, you CANNOT be a die hard fan of a school you didn’t even go to. I’ll throw up a “Wreck ‘em Tech” status update if we’re playing a big game, but I went there and saying I “care” is even a stretch. So, for those of you whose SAT scores didn’t break 1,000 don’t even act like UT football is your bread and butter when that school wouldn’t even have admitted you.
When it comes to sports in general, I’m a lot like a lax-Christian who shows up on Christmas Eve and Easter or an average American who only cares about politics when Presidential elections roll around every 4 years. I know the big key players (e.g. – Jesus, Brett Favre, etc.). I enjoy the big events (e.g. – bowl games, the Rapture, etc.). But for the most part, I could care less about all of the in between.
This may come as a shock to some of you, but I particularly love football. Well… love could be a bit of a stretch… let’s call it a very strong ‘appreciation.’ I do know the ins and outs of the game (for the most part), and even have a system of favorite teams based on the hotness of the players. I enjoy college ball more than professional because it is more exciting and most of the players haven’t truly achieved the level of douche baggery that plagues professional teams. Yes, I’m looking at you Tom Brady and any receiver that has a victory dance named after you.
 |
| He's bringing 'sexy' back, y'all. |
Anyway… all of this actually leads to why I absolutely hate football and/or most professional/popular sports (especially baseball). Those fans. I mean, I think it’s cool to have your passions. I am proud of the random knowledge I know about some of my favorite musical artists, TV shows, and, could be classified as 'Trekkie adjacent.' But, all of my knowledge of just about anything doesn’t rival the amount of mental energy and time some losers put into miscellaneous sports facts.
In fact, some of the dumbest people I know can easily recall figures, stats, and players about as well as I know no one looks sexy in a Bolo tie. In my personal experience 3 out of 5 of these insane fans don’t look like they could even play a football game (or even watch one for that matter) without getting short of breath. They have beer guts, little to no muscle mass or coordination, and are unfortunate looking at best. I mean, seriously, to be such an avid fan of something, you would think these people have some personal experience in a related field… (and having a Fantasy Football team does NOT count).
Finally, when it comes to college ball, you CANNOT be a die hard fan of a school you didn’t even go to. I’ll throw up a “Wreck ‘em Tech” status update if we’re playing a big game, but I went there and saying I “care” is even a stretch. So, for those of you whose SAT scores didn’t break 1,000 don’t even act like UT football is your bread and butter when that school wouldn’t even have admitted you.
When it comes to sports in general, I’m a lot like a lax-Christian who shows up on Christmas Eve and Easter or an average American who only cares about politics when Presidential elections roll around every 4 years. I know the big key players (e.g. – Jesus, Brett Favre, etc.). I enjoy the big events (e.g. – bowl games, the Rapture, etc.). But for the most part, I could care less about all of the in between.
[ ree - yooz ]
After a Saturday full of shopping, yesterday I was on a mission: to clean out my bureau and closet. Outcome: failure. I only threw out a pair of practically nonfunctional boots from college years, a pair of American Eagle wind pants that were always too big, and a handful of “white” undershirts that were so dingy and covered in wine stains that Billy Mays, himself, (may he rest in peace) couldn’t have made them white again. I’m not exactly in line to appear on the next season of Hoarders, but I keep a lot of useless things in the hopes that the “less” part of that particular adjective will eventually become a “ful.”
Our closets aside, why do we savers/hoarders/hopelessly nostalgic souls save, set aside, and store some of the most senseless fragments of past purchases, parties, and people? I spent about 10 seconds scrolling through the 5,000+ songs in my iTunes (of which the 10.0 version I hate). I found that a vast majority of the songs had never been and probably never will be played. I download full albums or a single here and there thinking that it will be my new favorite song(s), but they are just space eaters on my hard drive. I even have a box full of archaic compact discs that were bought before iTunes was even a glimmer in Steve Jobs’s eye.
The drawers in my desk are full of cards. Whether they are thank you cards, old wedding invitations, well wishes from birthdays past, or sweet messages wishing heartfelt condolences, they stay tucked away and are rarely looked at. I have a cigar box in my room that has movie stubs of forgettable flicks that date all the way back to high school and fortune cookie messages from meals and heartburn from year’s past. Even my BlackBerry has countless contacts whose numbers haven’t been dialed since they were ported from multiple phone ago. I doubt they are even current/active phone numbers, but I can’t bring myself to delete them… I even have high heel, bright yellow Go-Go boots from last year’s Halloween costume in the trunk of my car. Because, hey, when DON’T I need those at a moment’s notice when I’m behind the wheel?
But, really, I don’t know if it’s the slight tinge nostalgia these items elicit or some quasi-utilitarian hope that these artifacts will be folded back into my life again at some point. I also find it incredibly ironic that I keep these things, and let so many other things fall away like friendships that were lost or intentionally cast aside for one reason or another. Old practices like regularly going to church and staying in better contact with my family hang by a thread, while the coconut bra from a pub crawl remain tucked away in my bedside drawer ready to be whipped out at the drop of a hat. On the uglier side of the same coin and useless crap aside, why do I keep the negative things in my life around? Smoking, drinking as if it were a competitive sport, and a number of other unhealthy/anti-productive habits that fill more time in my life than I care to admit.
Anyway, I guess the movie stubs, old playbills, VHS tapes (yeah… I don’t even own a VCR), and clothes I’ll never wear can stick around. On the deeper end of the ocean, the other, more important things will remain on a jumbled to-do/not to-do list that I’ll hopefully get to at some point. Until then, I’m gonna smoke a cigarette, throw on my Discman and listen to Alanis Morissette’s “Jagged Little Pill” while I see who was in the cast of the touring production of “Wicked.”
Our closets aside, why do we savers/hoarders/hopelessly nostalgic souls save, set aside, and store some of the most senseless fragments of past purchases, parties, and people? I spent about 10 seconds scrolling through the 5,000+ songs in my iTunes (of which the 10.0 version I hate). I found that a vast majority of the songs had never been and probably never will be played. I download full albums or a single here and there thinking that it will be my new favorite song(s), but they are just space eaters on my hard drive. I even have a box full of archaic compact discs that were bought before iTunes was even a glimmer in Steve Jobs’s eye.
The drawers in my desk are full of cards. Whether they are thank you cards, old wedding invitations, well wishes from birthdays past, or sweet messages wishing heartfelt condolences, they stay tucked away and are rarely looked at. I have a cigar box in my room that has movie stubs of forgettable flicks that date all the way back to high school and fortune cookie messages from meals and heartburn from year’s past. Even my BlackBerry has countless contacts whose numbers haven’t been dialed since they were ported from multiple phone ago. I doubt they are even current/active phone numbers, but I can’t bring myself to delete them… I even have high heel, bright yellow Go-Go boots from last year’s Halloween costume in the trunk of my car. Because, hey, when DON’T I need those at a moment’s notice when I’m behind the wheel?
But, really, I don’t know if it’s the slight tinge nostalgia these items elicit or some quasi-utilitarian hope that these artifacts will be folded back into my life again at some point. I also find it incredibly ironic that I keep these things, and let so many other things fall away like friendships that were lost or intentionally cast aside for one reason or another. Old practices like regularly going to church and staying in better contact with my family hang by a thread, while the coconut bra from a pub crawl remain tucked away in my bedside drawer ready to be whipped out at the drop of a hat. On the uglier side of the same coin and useless crap aside, why do I keep the negative things in my life around? Smoking, drinking as if it were a competitive sport, and a number of other unhealthy/anti-productive habits that fill more time in my life than I care to admit.
Anyway, I guess the movie stubs, old playbills, VHS tapes (yeah… I don’t even own a VCR), and clothes I’ll never wear can stick around. On the deeper end of the ocean, the other, more important things will remain on a jumbled to-do/not to-do list that I’ll hopefully get to at some point. Until then, I’m gonna smoke a cigarette, throw on my Discman and listen to Alanis Morissette’s “Jagged Little Pill” while I see who was in the cast of the touring production of “Wicked.”
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