Sunday, February 28, 2010
O Canada!
Thank you, Team USA and Team Canada, for the most thrilling series of Olympic hockey games I have ever beheld. You deserve those medals and more.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Natural Disasters Suck
Again, if you want to help and need a suggestion, I support and recommend AmeriCares for their disaster relief emergency response efforts.
Spiritual and political beliefs aside, we are all members of this planet. Let's try to keep it whole and help each other out.
Spiritual and political beliefs aside, we are all members of this planet. Let's try to keep it whole and help each other out.
Helter Shelter
You know how most people lay in provisions when they hear a giant storm is coming? Well, just to prove to all of you out there (by which I mean, all 6 of you who actually read my daily nonsense) that I march to the beat of a different (by which I mean, stupid) drum, allow me to elucidate for you the exact contents currently contained in my kitchen:
Refrigerator
half a loaf of whole wheat bread
salad dressing
one slice of leftover pizza
spinach artichoke hummus (unopened)
butter
half-empty jar of tomato sauce
Cupboards
half-empty box of cereal
about a third of a box of whole wheat spaghetti
one can of peas
parmesan cheese
olive oil (empty)
honey
half-eaten jar of peanut butter
oregano
Given the possibility of an impending weather emergency, I'm sure there's a way to make at least a weekend's worth of nutritious meals out of all that, no...?
Refrigerator
half a loaf of whole wheat bread
salad dressing
one slice of leftover pizza
spinach artichoke hummus (unopened)
butter
half-empty jar of tomato sauce
Cupboards
half-empty box of cereal
about a third of a box of whole wheat spaghetti
one can of peas
parmesan cheese
olive oil (empty)
honey
half-eaten jar of peanut butter
oregano
Given the possibility of an impending weather emergency, I'm sure there's a way to make at least a weekend's worth of nutritious meals out of all that, no...?
Friday, February 26, 2010
Snow Day
This morning, I actually braved OMG SNOWPOCALYPSE!!! and forged my way to work because I have no vacation days left. Already. Yes, it's only February and I haven't even gone on a vacation yet. It's a long story...
So anyway, upon waking up, I call the office weather hotline, which clearly states that we are still open. Bastards. I call again — just in case — right before I leave: "Today is Friday, February 26th. The office is open for regular business hours." Bastards.
The cool part about going out in this ZOMG BLIZZARD!!! is that I get to wear my funky leopard-print snow boots. The not-so-cool part is that apparently no one in the vicinity knows how to properly utilize a snow shovel or operate a plow.
Amazingly, I don't break any bones or nails navigating the ice fields, though I do pull out a few impromptu crazy-slide dance moves. Also amazingly, the subways are running on or close to schedule, so I get to work at my regular time of 9:00.
And there is literally NO ONE on my floor.
My entire department: missing. Every surrounding cubicle: empty. My boss and my boss's boss: gone.
Maybe three people, max, wander in during the next 15 to 20 minutes. I figure, as long as I'm here, I might as well do something. Turn on my computer, open up my e-mail...
...and read a message from the executive director, sent at 8am, after I had already left the house, stating that we don't have to come in if the weather is bad.
God damn it.
About 15 minutes later, another message goes out, stating that the office will be closing at 10:30 due to inclement weather.
God damn it!
So, basically, I battled my way through SNOWMAGEDDON!!! HALP!!! for a whole lousy hour and a half.
...which I spent on Twitter.
So anyway, upon waking up, I call the office weather hotline, which clearly states that we are still open. Bastards. I call again — just in case — right before I leave: "Today is Friday, February 26th. The office is open for regular business hours." Bastards.
The cool part about going out in this ZOMG BLIZZARD!!! is that I get to wear my funky leopard-print snow boots. The not-so-cool part is that apparently no one in the vicinity knows how to properly utilize a snow shovel or operate a plow.
Amazingly, I don't break any bones or nails navigating the ice fields, though I do pull out a few impromptu crazy-slide dance moves. Also amazingly, the subways are running on or close to schedule, so I get to work at my regular time of 9:00.
And there is literally NO ONE on my floor.
My entire department: missing. Every surrounding cubicle: empty. My boss and my boss's boss: gone.
Maybe three people, max, wander in during the next 15 to 20 minutes. I figure, as long as I'm here, I might as well do something. Turn on my computer, open up my e-mail...
...and read a message from the executive director, sent at 8am, after I had already left the house, stating that we don't have to come in if the weather is bad.
God damn it.
About 15 minutes later, another message goes out, stating that the office will be closing at 10:30 due to inclement weather.
God damn it!
So, basically, I battled my way through SNOWMAGEDDON!!! HALP!!! for a whole lousy hour and a half.
...which I spent on Twitter.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
You Say "Gaddafi," I Say "God-Daffy"...
Headline: Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi calls for a jihad against Switzerland.
SWITZERLAND.
I'd love to hear the reasoning behind that one: "Yeah! We've got to get those militant Swiss bitches! They're gonna PAY for being so damn neutral!"
Muammar, buddy, stop trying so hard. It's just not sexy...
SWITZERLAND.
I'd love to hear the reasoning behind that one: "Yeah! We've got to get those militant Swiss bitches! They're gonna PAY for being so damn neutral!"
Muammar, buddy, stop trying so hard. It's just not sexy...
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Go Go Roller Girl!
I forgot to mention in the last post the tradition of extending derby names to friends and family members. Among many others, we had:
* Roxie Heartless and her fiance, Greg Heartless
* Summer Slam and her sister, Sister Slam (Sister Slam is now also my sister-in-law — I knew my brother only got involved to meet girls...)
* Raven Madd and her husband, Mr. Madd
* Jager Bombshell and her toddler-aged son, Skater Tot
* Amaretto Sourpuss and her boyfriend, Rusty Gunns
* Peta Sassin and my mom, Mama Sassin
* Holly Cide and her (ex-)boyfriend, Pee Wee Hurt' Em
and...
* Trixie Timebomb and her fans, The Bomb Squad
Also, some of my favorite derby slogans:
"Give Blood — Play Roller Derby"
"Skate Fast. Turn Left."
"Roller Derby: It's Like A Sorority Without The Date Rape."
...and, as mentioned previously:
"Roll Out With Your Hole Out!"
* Roxie Heartless and her fiance, Greg Heartless
* Summer Slam and her sister, Sister Slam (Sister Slam is now also my sister-in-law — I knew my brother only got involved to meet girls...)
* Raven Madd and her husband, Mr. Madd
* Jager Bombshell and her toddler-aged son, Skater Tot
* Amaretto Sourpuss and her boyfriend, Rusty Gunns
* Peta Sassin and my mom, Mama Sassin
* Holly Cide and her (ex-)boyfriend, Pee Wee Hurt' Em
and...
* Trixie Timebomb and her fans, The Bomb Squad
Also, some of my favorite derby slogans:
"Give Blood — Play Roller Derby"
"Skate Fast. Turn Left."
"Roller Derby: It's Like A Sorority Without The Date Rape."
...and, as mentioned previously:
"Roll Out With Your Hole Out!"
What's In A Name?
A comment from a web friend (that sounds much less creepy than "follower," no?) on yesterday's post made mention of roller derby, specifically derby names, and now I'm all nostalgaic.
For those of you who don't know, I used to be a roller girl. For about 2 years I played for the Long Island Roller Rebels, Long Island's only all-female flat-track roller derby league. I skated in two full bouts and one exhibition at Warped Tour. Admittedly, I wasn't very good — my signature move was falling down; if I was lucky I took an opposing player down with me — which is why I only lasted 2 years. These girls are FIERCE. This is a real sport, requiring training, strategy, and physical skill. If you're only in it for the culture, you'll get schooled pretty fast.
Which I did.
Still, I got to work the door at bouts, sell merch, and do publicity, which was awesome enough. I learned a helluva lot, my teammates more than earned my respect, and I still love this crazy pastime with all my heart.
One of my favorite things about it was the names. I'm a word person, after all. Some of my favorites included:
* Carnage Electra
* Butterscotch Cripple
* Iris Carbomb
* Roxie Heartless
* SnuffAnothaBitch
* Regine Bull
* Mary Jane Rottencrotch
* Alison Chains
* Lauren Disorder
* Domestic Violet
* Amaretto Sourpuss
...and my personal favorite:
* Helluva Bottom Carter
I was Peta Sassin (pronounced "Paid-a" — get it??), number AK-47. Some of my other choices had been Thea Pocalypse, Scarlett O'Horror, and Kitty Porn. I really wanted Sybil Disobedience, but it had already been claimed by a girl in Arizona. My sister, Courtney, is Courter Pound-Her. My brother, whose career as a ref was even briefer than mine, was Guy N'Cologist. New players come up with even more outstanding ones everyday. It's infinitely amusing to me.
So when Diablo Cody started trending "#celebritybabyrollerderbynames" on Twitter a while back, I was all over it.
And here, for your entertainment, the fruits of my labor:
* Violent Affleck (Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck)
* Surly Cruise (Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise)
* Zoom-a Rossdale (Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale)
* Grapple Martin (Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin)
* Rocco-'Em Sock-'Em Ritchie (Madonna and Guy Ritchie)
* Lourdes-Have-Mercy Leon (Madonna and Carlos Leon)
* Fighter-Pilot Inspektor Lee (Beth Riesgraf and Jason Lee)
* Rough Ryder Robinson (Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson)
* Rumble-In-The-Bronx Wentz (Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz)
* Nail-Her Aubry (Halle Berry and Gabriel Aubry)
* Bank-It Jackson (Michael Jackson and ...?)
* Indio-Face Downey (Deborah Falconer and Robert Downey, Jr.)
* Honor Killing Warren (Jessica Alba and Cash Warren)
* Cruz-in' For A Bruisin' Beckham (Victoria and David Beckham)
* HardBlow Madden (Nicole Richie and Joel Madden)
* Deck-'Em Phillippe (Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe)
* Kyd Vicious Duchovny (Tea Leoni and David Duchovny)
* StunRay Urban (Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban)
* Max Iron-Fist Bratman (Christina Aguilera and Jordan Bratman)
* Coco-Loco Arquette (Courteney Cox and David Arquette)
* Harper's Bizarre Grohl (Jordyn and Dave Grohl)
* Alabama Slamma Barker (Shanna Moakler and Travis Barker)
* Moxie Crimefighter Jilette [no change necessary] (Emily Zolten and Penn Jillette)
The Deadly Duo:
* Purple Hazel and Phinneaus Him! Moder (Julia Roberts and Danny Moder)
Triple Threat:
* Tallulah Hell, Scout LaRue-The-Day and Doom-Her Glenn Willis (Demi Moore and Bruce Willis)
The Sin City Squad:
* Rocket, Racer, Rebel and Rogue Rodriguez [again, no changes necessary] (Elizabeth Avellan and Robert Rodriguez)
And finally, fielding their own entire team...
The Holy Shit!/Jolie-Pitts:
* Mad Maddox
* Zahara Show
* Shiloh-Can-U-Go
* Pax-A-Punch
...and the Twins of Terror:
* Vivisection and Knox-'Em-Out
Roll out with your hole out, bitches... >:)
For those of you who don't know, I used to be a roller girl. For about 2 years I played for the Long Island Roller Rebels, Long Island's only all-female flat-track roller derby league. I skated in two full bouts and one exhibition at Warped Tour. Admittedly, I wasn't very good — my signature move was falling down; if I was lucky I took an opposing player down with me — which is why I only lasted 2 years. These girls are FIERCE. This is a real sport, requiring training, strategy, and physical skill. If you're only in it for the culture, you'll get schooled pretty fast.
Which I did.
Still, I got to work the door at bouts, sell merch, and do publicity, which was awesome enough. I learned a helluva lot, my teammates more than earned my respect, and I still love this crazy pastime with all my heart.
One of my favorite things about it was the names. I'm a word person, after all. Some of my favorites included:
* Carnage Electra
* Butterscotch Cripple
* Iris Carbomb
* Roxie Heartless
* SnuffAnothaBitch
* Regine Bull
* Mary Jane Rottencrotch
* Alison Chains
* Lauren Disorder
* Domestic Violet
* Amaretto Sourpuss
...and my personal favorite:
* Helluva Bottom Carter
I was Peta Sassin (pronounced "Paid-a" — get it??), number AK-47. Some of my other choices had been Thea Pocalypse, Scarlett O'Horror, and Kitty Porn. I really wanted Sybil Disobedience, but it had already been claimed by a girl in Arizona. My sister, Courtney, is Courter Pound-Her. My brother, whose career as a ref was even briefer than mine, was Guy N'Cologist. New players come up with even more outstanding ones everyday. It's infinitely amusing to me.
So when Diablo Cody started trending "#celebritybabyrollerderbynames" on Twitter a while back, I was all over it.
And here, for your entertainment, the fruits of my labor:
* Violent Affleck (Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck)
* Surly Cruise (Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise)
* Zoom-a Rossdale (Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale)
* Grapple Martin (Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin)
* Rocco-'Em Sock-'Em Ritchie (Madonna and Guy Ritchie)
* Lourdes-Have-Mercy Leon (Madonna and Carlos Leon)
* Fighter-Pilot Inspektor Lee (Beth Riesgraf and Jason Lee)
* Rough Ryder Robinson (Kate Hudson and Chris Robinson)
* Rumble-In-The-Bronx Wentz (Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz)
* Nail-Her Aubry (Halle Berry and Gabriel Aubry)
* Bank-It Jackson (Michael Jackson and ...?)
* Indio-Face Downey (Deborah Falconer and Robert Downey, Jr.)
* Honor Killing Warren (Jessica Alba and Cash Warren)
* Cruz-in' For A Bruisin' Beckham (Victoria and David Beckham)
* HardBlow Madden (Nicole Richie and Joel Madden)
* Deck-'Em Phillippe (Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillippe)
* Kyd Vicious Duchovny (Tea Leoni and David Duchovny)
* StunRay Urban (Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban)
* Max Iron-Fist Bratman (Christina Aguilera and Jordan Bratman)
* Coco-Loco Arquette (Courteney Cox and David Arquette)
* Harper's Bizarre Grohl (Jordyn and Dave Grohl)
* Alabama Slamma Barker (Shanna Moakler and Travis Barker)
* Moxie Crimefighter Jilette [no change necessary] (Emily Zolten and Penn Jillette)
The Deadly Duo:
* Purple Hazel and Phinneaus Him! Moder (Julia Roberts and Danny Moder)
Triple Threat:
* Tallulah Hell, Scout LaRue-The-Day and Doom-Her Glenn Willis (Demi Moore and Bruce Willis)
The Sin City Squad:
* Rocket, Racer, Rebel and Rogue Rodriguez [again, no changes necessary] (Elizabeth Avellan and Robert Rodriguez)
And finally, fielding their own entire team...
The Holy Shit!/Jolie-Pitts:
* Mad Maddox
* Zahara Show
* Shiloh-Can-U-Go
* Pax-A-Punch
...and the Twins of Terror:
* Vivisection and Knox-'Em-Out
Roll out with your hole out, bitches... >:)
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
iGot The Music In Me
I finally got my new iPod yesterday — I've been without for almost a year (A YEAR!) — so, of course, after about 2 and a half hours of bewildered fiddling with iTunes and LimeWire (I am the most technologically-impaired person you will ever meet — you should see my antiquated cell phone), I loaded it to the max.
And this morning's commute was glorious.
I forgot how empowering it is to stomp down the city streets to "Army Of Me," and how soothing it is to be able to block out the noise of other people's obnoxious iPods with "#1 Crush" and "Bombs Over Baghdad."
I'm also a great lover of paradoxes, which is why I'm such a fan of roller derby (tough sport/sexy outfits), Diablo Cody (former stripper/Oscar winner), and pretty gay boys (um...pretty/boys), so it gives me no greater joy than to be sitting next to some stuffy middle-aged businessman on the subway, in my pinstriped dress pants and pointy-toed flats, with my "status" handbag and a blank expression, hands and newspaper folded primly in my lap, and blasting Nine Inch Nails.
I'm so badass.
Thank you, Cleveland!
And this morning's commute was glorious.
I forgot how empowering it is to stomp down the city streets to "Army Of Me," and how soothing it is to be able to block out the noise of other people's obnoxious iPods with "#1 Crush" and "Bombs Over Baghdad."
I'm also a great lover of paradoxes, which is why I'm such a fan of roller derby (tough sport/sexy outfits), Diablo Cody (former stripper/Oscar winner), and pretty gay boys (um...pretty/boys), so it gives me no greater joy than to be sitting next to some stuffy middle-aged businessman on the subway, in my pinstriped dress pants and pointy-toed flats, with my "status" handbag and a blank expression, hands and newspaper folded primly in my lap, and blasting Nine Inch Nails.
I'm so badass.
Thank you, Cleveland!
Monday, February 22, 2010
My Life In Song Titles
I love these stupid things. This one worked out particularly well.
Pick your Artist:
No Doubt
Are you a male or female:
Just A Girl
Describe yourself:
Hella Good
How do you feel:
Happy Now?
Describe where you currently live:
Tragic Kingdom
If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Home Now
Your favourite form of transportation:
Running
Your best friend is:
Rock Steady
You and your best friends are:
Different People
What's the weather like:
Blue In The Face
Favourite time of day:
Too Late
If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Simple Kind Of Life
What is life to you:
It's My Life
Your relationship:
Ex-Girlfriend
Your fear:
Trapped In A Box
What is the best advice you have to give:
You Can Do It
Thought for the Day:
In My Head
How I would like to die:
Making Out
My soul's present condition:
Comforting Lie
My motto:
Hey Baby
Thank you, Cleveland!
Pick your Artist:
No Doubt
Are you a male or female:
Just A Girl
Describe yourself:
Hella Good
How do you feel:
Happy Now?
Describe where you currently live:
Tragic Kingdom
If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Home Now
Your favourite form of transportation:
Running
Your best friend is:
Rock Steady
You and your best friends are:
Different People
What's the weather like:
Blue In The Face
Favourite time of day:
Too Late
If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Simple Kind Of Life
What is life to you:
It's My Life
Your relationship:
Ex-Girlfriend
Your fear:
Trapped In A Box
What is the best advice you have to give:
You Can Do It
Thought for the Day:
In My Head
How I would like to die:
Making Out
My soul's present condition:
Comforting Lie
My motto:
Hey Baby
Thank you, Cleveland!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Ice Hockey Terms That Make Me Snicker
...despite the fact that I've been following this sport since I was 5 (GO RANGERS!).
In honor of today's marquee Olympic match-ups between the Czech Republic and Russia, and the US and Canada (GO CZECHS! GO CANUCKS!), some of my favorite funny phrases:
* stick handling
* puck handling
* power play
* shorthanded
* hooking
* holding
* back checking
* in the crease
* bouncing puck
* slow whistle
* slapshot
* poke check
* penalty box
* first period
* snow shower
* two-man advantage
* pulling the goalie
* waffle pads
* Zamboni
In honor of today's marquee Olympic match-ups between the Czech Republic and Russia, and the US and Canada (GO CZECHS! GO CANUCKS!), some of my favorite funny phrases:
* stick handling
* puck handling
* power play
* shorthanded
* hooking
* holding
* back checking
* in the crease
* bouncing puck
* slow whistle
* slapshot
* poke check
* penalty box
* first period
* snow shower
* two-man advantage
* pulling the goalie
* waffle pads
* Zamboni
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Winter Wardrobe Woes
Dear Michael Kors:
I would like to wear this to work every single day. In olive green and camel, too. Please send me one of each. Thanks.
Sincerely,
BeccaGo
P.S.: And a few of these in various shades for my "red carpet events," too, please. Much appreciated.
I would like to wear this to work every single day. In olive green and camel, too. Please send me one of each. Thanks.
Sincerely,BeccaGo
P.S.: And a few of these in various shades for my "red carpet events," too, please. Much appreciated.
Friday, February 19, 2010
We Are The World
"Save The Children" street-corner harasser: "Excuse me, ma'am, if I could have—"
Me, not slowing down: "No."
Harasser, following me to the subway: "—just one minute of your—"
Me, still walking: "NO."
Harasser: "But the children are starving!"
Me: "I'M starving! If you don't let me get home and eat, you're buying me dinner, so shut the fuck up!"
This happens at least once a week as I'm leaving work. Get a job, hippy.
Me, not slowing down: "No."
Harasser, following me to the subway: "—just one minute of your—"
Me, still walking: "NO."
Harasser: "But the children are starving!"
Me: "I'M starving! If you don't let me get home and eat, you're buying me dinner, so shut the fuck up!"
This happens at least once a week as I'm leaving work. Get a job, hippy.
The Two Best Things I've Heard Shouted From The Street Outside My Apartment Since I've Been Living Here
"VANESSA!* I LOVE YOU! I'M SORRY I CHEATED ON YOU! I WANT YOU BACK!"
*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.
"THE PRESIDENT IS BLACK, MOTHERFUCKERS!"
*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.
"THE PRESIDENT IS BLACK, MOTHERFUCKERS!"
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Screw It!
More on-the-job raunch!!! (I never tire of this stuff. I'm such a child.):
"NUM-III-7944.2 Rotating Shafts. Rotating shafts shall be supported by anti-friction, lubricated or self-lubricated bushings. All sliding surfaces shall be lubricated."
"These elements shall have stiffnesses that are an order of magnitude higher than the stiffest member."
"Provision shall be made to guard against load jamming."
"The valve shall be guarded to minimize the entrance of foreign objects."
"Describe all components that contribute significantly to the stiffness."
"(a) Full Penetration
(b) Partial Penetration"
"NB-4660: Electroslag Welds" ["Electroslag" would make a great band name...]
"(1) Shaft Bushings"
"Section 3: Fungus Protection"
"Fig. NB-3545-1: Model For Determining Secondary Stress In Valve Crotch Region"
"finger probe"
"body entrapment"
"submerged suction outlets"
"nozzles joined by full penetration butt welds"
And finally, not dirty but made me giggle:
"...grooving towards the center of the drum."
"NUM-III-7944.2 Rotating Shafts. Rotating shafts shall be supported by anti-friction, lubricated or self-lubricated bushings. All sliding surfaces shall be lubricated."
"These elements shall have stiffnesses that are an order of magnitude higher than the stiffest member."
"Provision shall be made to guard against load jamming."
"The valve shall be guarded to minimize the entrance of foreign objects."
"Describe all components that contribute significantly to the stiffness."
"(a) Full Penetration
(b) Partial Penetration"
"NB-4660: Electroslag Welds" ["Electroslag" would make a great band name...]
"(1) Shaft Bushings"
"Section 3: Fungus Protection"
"Fig. NB-3545-1: Model For Determining Secondary Stress In Valve Crotch Region"
"finger probe"
"body entrapment"
"submerged suction outlets"
"nozzles joined by full penetration butt welds"
And finally, not dirty but made me giggle:
"...grooving towards the center of the drum."
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
America Runs On It All Right
I am convinced that Dunkin' Donuts White Hot Chocolate is made of liquid marshmallows.
And it tastes almost just as good coming back up.
And it tastes almost just as good coming back up.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Trashy Romance
A new Subway opened up across the street from me a few weeks ago. Since it's so conveniently nearby, hasn't been around long enough to turn seedy yet, offers somewhat healthier fare than the Burger King and KFC just around the corner, and saves me from the chore of actually having to cook something for myself (let's put it this way: I make really great omelets...and that's it), I've patronized this establishment pretty often already. I decided to pick something up from there on my way home tonight.
Incidentally, I live in a pretty trashy neighborhood. Literally. As in, there's garbage all over the place. The sidewalks can get pretty hazardous on sanitation day. They're usually streaked with rivulets of what I can only imagine is toxic sludge leaking from the mountains of plastic bags piled up on the curbs. Then there are all the other obstacles blocking the path and requiring avoidance — you know, those common, everyday yet unwieldy items, like...mattresses. There's never a scarcity of paper plates, plastic bags and empty bottles on the ground, pick-up day or not. And during the summer, all pet owners within a 10-mile radius collectively forget about the "curb your dog" laws.
So, expectedly, during the winter, not every walkway gets shoveled in a timely or efficient manner after it snows. In the half a block I need to traverse to get to the Subway, there are about 8 slush puddles, a couple patches of black ice, and a gigantic plow-created drift spilling into the crosswalk on the corner.
As I'm waiting for the light and devising a strategem to somehow get over or around the pile of snow in front of me, I notice a cute guy walking in my direction. I'm brazenly gazing at him in admiration as he passes by, when he suddenly stops and turns around, heading back in my direction. OMG — did he notice me?? Is he coming back to say I've so stunned him with my beauty and superb fashion sense that he simply couldn't resist the opportunity to steal another look and get my number?!? How does my hair look??
He stops a few steps away from me, bends down, picks a cigarette butt out of the snow drift, and tosses it in the trash can behind him. Then he smiles right at me before walking away.
This small act so warms my heart I'm almost sure it could melt all the snow in my way.
I totally should have got his number.
Incidentally, I live in a pretty trashy neighborhood. Literally. As in, there's garbage all over the place. The sidewalks can get pretty hazardous on sanitation day. They're usually streaked with rivulets of what I can only imagine is toxic sludge leaking from the mountains of plastic bags piled up on the curbs. Then there are all the other obstacles blocking the path and requiring avoidance — you know, those common, everyday yet unwieldy items, like...mattresses. There's never a scarcity of paper plates, plastic bags and empty bottles on the ground, pick-up day or not. And during the summer, all pet owners within a 10-mile radius collectively forget about the "curb your dog" laws.
So, expectedly, during the winter, not every walkway gets shoveled in a timely or efficient manner after it snows. In the half a block I need to traverse to get to the Subway, there are about 8 slush puddles, a couple patches of black ice, and a gigantic plow-created drift spilling into the crosswalk on the corner.
As I'm waiting for the light and devising a strategem to somehow get over or around the pile of snow in front of me, I notice a cute guy walking in my direction. I'm brazenly gazing at him in admiration as he passes by, when he suddenly stops and turns around, heading back in my direction. OMG — did he notice me?? Is he coming back to say I've so stunned him with my beauty and superb fashion sense that he simply couldn't resist the opportunity to steal another look and get my number?!? How does my hair look??
He stops a few steps away from me, bends down, picks a cigarette butt out of the snow drift, and tosses it in the trash can behind him. Then he smiles right at me before walking away.
This small act so warms my heart I'm almost sure it could melt all the snow in my way.
I totally should have got his number.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Happy Birthday, Mr. President(s)
I am currently wearing flip-flops, pajama pants, a sports bra, and a towel on my head; eating cereal out of the box; and have been watching the Olympics and playing First-Person Tetris for 4 hours straight. It is 5 pm on a Monday.
God, I love 3-day weekends.
UPDATE: To somewhat redeem my joyfully wasted day, I will post this vaguely presidential-ish link in honor of our national holiday:
Official Republican Party Teabags!
God, I love 3-day weekends.
UPDATE: To somewhat redeem my joyfully wasted day, I will post this vaguely presidential-ish link in honor of our national holiday:
Official Republican Party Teabags!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Winter (Of My Discontent) Games
21-year-old Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili died yesterday before the official start of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics during a practice run because he crashed at about 95 mph and flew into an unpadded steel support post.
So basically, he died for a really fast sled ride.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be callous. I feel terrible for his family, friends and teammates. It's sad that such a joyous occasion as the Opening Ceremonies was shadowed by such a tragic event. I teared up when the Georgian delegation entered the arena and the crowd gave them a standing ovation. It breaks my heart that someone so young came so close only for a terrible accident to rob him of his chance to compete. And I can understand the desire to represent your country and be a part of the Olympic Games in any way you can.
But the fact that luge is even considered an Olympic sport pisses me off. It's basically just a really dangerous amusement park ride. I feel like even ice dancing requires more skill and training. And say all you want about curling, but at least it's the "athlete" that's doing most of the work, not gravity and a big twisty slide.
Please, correct me if I'm wrong — I'm not presenting myself as an authority by any means. These are only my impressions from watching the races on television. However, according to The Washington Post, Svein Romstad of the International Luge Federation said that when Kumaritashvili flew off the track, he experienced "a G-force that literally collapsed his body, rendering it difficult to control the sled." Sounds to me like I'm pretty much (forgive the pun) on track.
So women's ski jumping is still not allowed, but being crushed by the G-force created by sliding downhill on a sharply curved track surrounded by giant steel posts at 95 mph on a sled over which you have no control — that embodies the grand Olympic spirit of the Winter Games.
Go world.
So basically, he died for a really fast sled ride.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be callous. I feel terrible for his family, friends and teammates. It's sad that such a joyous occasion as the Opening Ceremonies was shadowed by such a tragic event. I teared up when the Georgian delegation entered the arena and the crowd gave them a standing ovation. It breaks my heart that someone so young came so close only for a terrible accident to rob him of his chance to compete. And I can understand the desire to represent your country and be a part of the Olympic Games in any way you can.
But the fact that luge is even considered an Olympic sport pisses me off. It's basically just a really dangerous amusement park ride. I feel like even ice dancing requires more skill and training. And say all you want about curling, but at least it's the "athlete" that's doing most of the work, not gravity and a big twisty slide.
Please, correct me if I'm wrong — I'm not presenting myself as an authority by any means. These are only my impressions from watching the races on television. However, according to The Washington Post, Svein Romstad of the International Luge Federation said that when Kumaritashvili flew off the track, he experienced "a G-force that literally collapsed his body, rendering it difficult to control the sled." Sounds to me like I'm pretty much (forgive the pun) on track.
So women's ski jumping is still not allowed, but being crushed by the G-force created by sliding downhill on a sharply curved track surrounded by giant steel posts at 95 mph on a sled over which you have no control — that embodies the grand Olympic spirit of the Winter Games.
Go world.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Why I Am Excited To An Unhealthy Level About Survivor 20: Heroes vs. Villains
First challenge, only about 20 minutes in: one dislocated (and relocated) shoulder [Stephenie is one tough chick], one broken toe, and one topless chick flipping everyone the bird.
That helicopter entrance was intense. And the Villains have the much cooler theme music.
Probst: "How does it feel to be labeled a villain?"
Boston Rob: "Wait — I'm a villain?"
TYSON IS BACK!
No way should Candice be a Hero. I will never forgive her for jumping ship back to the White People team on her season. And I have no idea who Danielle is. Anyone...?
Tom: The Chicken Stalker. (I'm pretty sure those are Shambo's escaped chickens from last season.)
Love Connection: Coach and Jerri are the new Rob and Amber — the disturbing version.
Sandra: "I'll bet you a dollar he falls in the water." LOL!
Cirie vs. Amanda: The Revenge — this time, it's personal.
Heroes LOSE the first immunity challenge!
GO VILLAINS! Get your evil on. >:)
That helicopter entrance was intense. And the Villains have the much cooler theme music.
Probst: "How does it feel to be labeled a villain?"
Boston Rob: "Wait — I'm a villain?"
TYSON IS BACK!
No way should Candice be a Hero. I will never forgive her for jumping ship back to the White People team on her season. And I have no idea who Danielle is. Anyone...?
Tom: The Chicken Stalker. (I'm pretty sure those are Shambo's escaped chickens from last season.)
Love Connection: Coach and Jerri are the new Rob and Amber — the disturbing version.
Sandra: "I'll bet you a dollar he falls in the water." LOL!
Cirie vs. Amanda: The Revenge — this time, it's personal.
Heroes LOSE the first immunity challenge!
GO VILLAINS! Get your evil on. >:)
Thursday, February 11, 2010
RIP Alexander McQueen
I'd like to apologize for making fun of your shoes in a past post. You will be missed.
Operation Insect Relocation: Success
"Do cockroaches have wings?"
"Eww. I don't know — why?"
"Because I can't tell if this is a cricket or a cockroach."
Always a fun way to interrupt a co-worker's lunch.
So, yeah, I had been innocently reaching up to grab my 2007 Edition BPVC Section III-NE off my shelf (you know, like you do...), when I suddenly found myself face-to-antennae with an unidentified winged object. If I hadn't looked up to make sure I was grabbing Section NE and not Section ND (trust me — do NOT confuse the two), I probably would have had bug guts in my hands right now. And even though he freaked me out, I just couldn't bring myself to kill him (maybe because I had already anthropomorphized "him"), so I trapped him in the empty plastic fruit cup from my lunch (which was cool, because it was clear plastic so I could still see him crawling around inside), covered it with a tissue, and did what anyone else in my situation would have done: walked up to the desks of everyone else in my department and asked, "Hey — wanna see something cool??"
But since none of us could agree on exactly what kind of bug it was, this being an office building in New York City, not exactly affording its inhabitants everyday exposure to the wonders of Nature, we again did what anyone else in our situation would have done: we Googled it.
There was consensus on at least one topic, however; that being, "Whatever it is, get it out of here!" So I grabbed my building pass, took the elevator down 22 floors [tall, solidly-built male in a suit and tie and a panicked voice after getting on at 17: "That's not a spider, is it??"], swiped out at the front desk, exited to the street through the revolving doors and, again, did what anyone else in my situation would have done: set him free in front of Starbucks.
Bugs are fun. :)
"Eww. I don't know — why?"
"Because I can't tell if this is a cricket or a cockroach."
Always a fun way to interrupt a co-worker's lunch.
So, yeah, I had been innocently reaching up to grab my 2007 Edition BPVC Section III-NE off my shelf (you know, like you do...), when I suddenly found myself face-to-antennae with an unidentified winged object. If I hadn't looked up to make sure I was grabbing Section NE and not Section ND (trust me — do NOT confuse the two), I probably would have had bug guts in my hands right now. And even though he freaked me out, I just couldn't bring myself to kill him (maybe because I had already anthropomorphized "him"), so I trapped him in the empty plastic fruit cup from my lunch (which was cool, because it was clear plastic so I could still see him crawling around inside), covered it with a tissue, and did what anyone else in my situation would have done: walked up to the desks of everyone else in my department and asked, "Hey — wanna see something cool??"
But since none of us could agree on exactly what kind of bug it was, this being an office building in New York City, not exactly affording its inhabitants everyday exposure to the wonders of Nature, we again did what anyone else in our situation would have done: we Googled it.
There was consensus on at least one topic, however; that being, "Whatever it is, get it out of here!" So I grabbed my building pass, took the elevator down 22 floors [tall, solidly-built male in a suit and tie and a panicked voice after getting on at 17: "That's not a spider, is it??"], swiped out at the front desk, exited to the street through the revolving doors and, again, did what anyone else in my situation would have done: set him free in front of Starbucks.
Bugs are fun. :)
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Perfect Timing
Just when I thought nothing could possibly make me angrier than that crap I posted yesterday, along comes this fresh new hell:
The new Louis Vuitton NINETEEN HUNDRED FREAKIN' DOLLAR trash bag purse.
Please picture me screaming as if I were in the casino scene of Run Lola Run right now. Thank you.
The new Louis Vuitton NINETEEN HUNDRED FREAKIN' DOLLAR trash bag purse.
Please picture me screaming as if I were in the casino scene of Run Lola Run right now. Thank you.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
People Like You Are The Reason People Like Me Need Medication
There's a scene in The Robber Bride where Zenia asks Tony which she would rather have from other people: love, respect, or fear?
I always picked fear.
There's a lot of turmoil going on beneath my surface. I've been known to claim righteous indignation as one of my favorite emotions. I literally hiss at people who piss me off on the subway. I burn things when I need to vent. One time, when I was mad at my college roommate over a boy, she stayed in a friend's dorm for a week because, as she later admitted, she was afraid I might kill her in her sleep. So when I came across the link to this blog on The Sassy Curmudgeon (which, BTW, is AWESOME!) this morning, it was like some sort of Bizarro Christmas. It made me so angry that it made me happy again — kinda like drinking yourself sober. It completed me.
I will not be re-posting the link, however, because, if she's not trolling, I don't want to be responsible for giving this bitch any more traffic. Instead, I will simply paste here the content that fueled my outrage for your own delectation.
WARNING: Obnoxious content ahead...
January 10, 2010
I recently moved here from Santa Monica California. I grew up in Rochester, so I am no stranger to the east coast. But I was in SoCal for ten years. Saying it's a big adjustment is an understatement. But this is something that I noticed today.
Why I don't think I belong here in Park Slope...
I think fur is fabulous (please don't yell at me this isn’t about PETA). And I believe that being fabulous is FUN.
I could really just say that and be done with this whole essay on why the hell I stick out like a sore thumb here in this Brooklyn town. But since I have nothing else to do but wait for the season premier of Big Love, I’ll go on...
I have a sick 18 month old and a husband that would be happy just sitting on the couch watching youtube.com all Sunday. I had to get out of the house. And this wasn't easy, because reason number two I don't belong here is that it's 25 degrees. Umm, that's just not okay for me. Which is why I thought that putting on my mother's J. Mendel Mink Coat with my over the knee Prada boots was SO necessary for my walk.
Apparently, I'm the only one in Park Slope who wants to stay warm...and fabulous at the same time. I got some pretty interesting looks on my outing, and it's about time. To be honest, I was happy that they were taking notice that there is something else out there than long black The North Face down coats and mittens made in Nepal. I don't understand, you are missing out on all the fun it is to be Fabulous! I miss seeing other people all dolled up, contemplating what the new "it" bag is, and seeing the most incredible new Louboutins on the girl across the street.
I know what you'll say...go into Manhattan. Thing is, I have a baby and it's difficult to make the trek with him. And to be honest, I'm not sure that I'd find what I'm looking there either, because it's too damn cold! It's too cold to wear the newest spring collection pieces before spring (because they are coming out NOW!). It's too cold to wear my new Stella McCartney Navy bubble rain coat, or my sexy new Alexander Wang cowl neck tank.
So, like the rest of the group, I'll be wearing my JCrew turtleneck sweater, jeans and uggs. I'll sit at the playground with all the other kids who are cold and have running noses. And I'll stand there while the moms with the hipster combat boots, and knit caps don't talk to me.
But I'll know that I'm still fun and fabulous...I'll be wearing the inappropriate fur.
Oh, honey. Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry...
BeccaGo said:
Hmm...
Maybe your 18-month-old is sick because, like me, he/she read your post and it made him/her so?
And maybe your husband spends all his time on “youtube.com” because, based on the name-dropping, limited vocabulary, and mindless subject matter of your post, it's more entertaining than you are?
And maybe those moms on the playground aren't talking to you because they're paying attention to their KIDS? You know, like PARENTS do?
Wait — what am I saying? I read your post. You obviously don't know that. Parents are only there to hand down FABULOUS J. Mendel mink coats! And you're just so FABULOUS, that yours must have done a FABULOUS job!
Go get smacked in the face with a knock-off bag.
Welcome to Brooklyn!
I always picked fear.
There's a lot of turmoil going on beneath my surface. I've been known to claim righteous indignation as one of my favorite emotions. I literally hiss at people who piss me off on the subway. I burn things when I need to vent. One time, when I was mad at my college roommate over a boy, she stayed in a friend's dorm for a week because, as she later admitted, she was afraid I might kill her in her sleep. So when I came across the link to this blog on The Sassy Curmudgeon (which, BTW, is AWESOME!) this morning, it was like some sort of Bizarro Christmas. It made me so angry that it made me happy again — kinda like drinking yourself sober. It completed me.
I will not be re-posting the link, however, because, if she's not trolling, I don't want to be responsible for giving this bitch any more traffic. Instead, I will simply paste here the content that fueled my outrage for your own delectation.
WARNING: Obnoxious content ahead...
January 10, 2010
I recently moved here from Santa Monica California. I grew up in Rochester, so I am no stranger to the east coast. But I was in SoCal for ten years. Saying it's a big adjustment is an understatement. But this is something that I noticed today.
Why I don't think I belong here in Park Slope...
I think fur is fabulous (please don't yell at me this isn’t about PETA). And I believe that being fabulous is FUN.
I could really just say that and be done with this whole essay on why the hell I stick out like a sore thumb here in this Brooklyn town. But since I have nothing else to do but wait for the season premier of Big Love, I’ll go on...
I have a sick 18 month old and a husband that would be happy just sitting on the couch watching youtube.com all Sunday. I had to get out of the house. And this wasn't easy, because reason number two I don't belong here is that it's 25 degrees. Umm, that's just not okay for me. Which is why I thought that putting on my mother's J. Mendel Mink Coat with my over the knee Prada boots was SO necessary for my walk.
Apparently, I'm the only one in Park Slope who wants to stay warm...and fabulous at the same time. I got some pretty interesting looks on my outing, and it's about time. To be honest, I was happy that they were taking notice that there is something else out there than long black The North Face down coats and mittens made in Nepal. I don't understand, you are missing out on all the fun it is to be Fabulous! I miss seeing other people all dolled up, contemplating what the new "it" bag is, and seeing the most incredible new Louboutins on the girl across the street.
I know what you'll say...go into Manhattan. Thing is, I have a baby and it's difficult to make the trek with him. And to be honest, I'm not sure that I'd find what I'm looking there either, because it's too damn cold! It's too cold to wear the newest spring collection pieces before spring (because they are coming out NOW!). It's too cold to wear my new Stella McCartney Navy bubble rain coat, or my sexy new Alexander Wang cowl neck tank.
So, like the rest of the group, I'll be wearing my JCrew turtleneck sweater, jeans and uggs. I'll sit at the playground with all the other kids who are cold and have running noses. And I'll stand there while the moms with the hipster combat boots, and knit caps don't talk to me.
But I'll know that I'm still fun and fabulous...I'll be wearing the inappropriate fur.
Oh, honey. Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry...
BeccaGo said:
Hmm...
Maybe your 18-month-old is sick because, like me, he/she read your post and it made him/her so?
And maybe your husband spends all his time on “youtube.com” because, based on the name-dropping, limited vocabulary, and mindless subject matter of your post, it's more entertaining than you are?
And maybe those moms on the playground aren't talking to you because they're paying attention to their KIDS? You know, like PARENTS do?
Wait — what am I saying? I read your post. You obviously don't know that. Parents are only there to hand down FABULOUS J. Mendel mink coats! And you're just so FABULOUS, that yours must have done a FABULOUS job!
Go get smacked in the face with a knock-off bag.
Welcome to Brooklyn!
Monday, February 8, 2010
The (Crown) Heights Of Fashion
Armchair fashion critic that I am, I can not let this pass without remark:
Just what every runway show needs — heavy artillery as footwear! Bravo, Bravo! Way to raise that tackiness bar!
In recognition of your fashion-forward ghetto-fabulousness, please accept this Official Alexander McQueen Deer Hoof/Ballet Slipper Award For Crazy-Ass Shoe Design:
FIERCE!
Friday, February 5, 2010
Superb Owl Sunday
Important Super Bowl XLIV Betting Information:
The over/under on the total length of Carrie Underwood's performance of the national anthem: 1 minute, 42 seconds
The favorite for first commercial following kick-off: Budweiser
The line on how many times announcers will mention Hurricane Katrina between kick-off and final whistle [must be full phrase]: 2.5
Odds that the first song played during The Who's halftime medley will be "Baba O'Reilly": 9/4
Spread on whether the sum total of Kim Kardashian's measurements (34-26-39 = 99) will be higher than her boyfriend Reggie Bush's total rushing and receiving yards: 38.5
The more you know...
The over/under on the total length of Carrie Underwood's performance of the national anthem: 1 minute, 42 seconds
The favorite for first commercial following kick-off: Budweiser
The line on how many times announcers will mention Hurricane Katrina between kick-off and final whistle [must be full phrase]: 2.5
Odds that the first song played during The Who's halftime medley will be "Baba O'Reilly": 9/4
Spread on whether the sum total of Kim Kardashian's measurements (34-26-39 = 99) will be higher than her boyfriend Reggie Bush's total rushing and receiving yards: 38.5
The more you know...
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Lame Claims To Fame: Volume V
Flashback: January 2008...
So, for those of you who don't travel in these sorts of circles, the Tony award-winning Broadway musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will be closing on January 20th after a two-and-a-half year run. Upon hearing this news about three weeks ago — especially as an actress, a singer, and the bearer of an English degree, who lives for all things quirky — I was kicking myself for having missed the chance to see it.
Until I realized that I have a sister who does travel in these sorts of circles.
And who happened to be paying attention during this particular lament of mine, and who remembered it come Christmas present-buying time.
Which is how I came to be onstage with the cast, under the spotlights of the Circle in the Square Theater, beaming from ear to ear during yesterday evening's performance.
But let me back up a bit...
Technically, this is not the first time I've been in this sort of situation. For my 20th birthday, my mom took me to see Grease (with Rosie O'Donnell — remember that??), and when I made a request to the guy playing Vince Fontaine, who was spinning rock 'n' roll records before the show, I mentioned that it was my birthday, and he pulled me up onstage to dance (of course, I can't prove this because when Mom tried to take a picture of it, security confiscated her camera). And when I had front-row seats for the Broadway revival of The Rocky Horror Show about 8 years ago, I managed to jump onstage to dance with one of the Phantoms during the Time Warp — but then again, we are talking about Rocky Horror.* As for the Bee, I've only heard rumors of audience participation, so I'm not getting my hopes up.
*Case in point: When I saw it again the next year (with Sebastian Bach — remember that??) and somehow ended up being the only one in the audience who yelled out (per "the script") "What's your favorite toothpaste?" right before the word "gleam" in "I Can Make You A Man," and then "Mine's Crest — I like the PUMP!" right after it, Terrance Mann as Dr. Frank broke character to look right at me and shout back "Get your own damn show!"
The lobby of the theater is decorated like the hallways of a real middle school. Handwritten signs and posters advertising bake sales and club meetings, "Read to Achieve!" and all those other cheesy inspirational slogans plastered everywhere, actual rows of lockers, and — my personal favorite — a "Putnam County Lady Pirhanas — 1998 Field Hockey Champions" banner hanging from the ceiling. Against one wall is a "Volunteer Speller Registration" table, so, curious, I get in line. The cute gay boy with the clipboard asks me my name, where I'm from, if I'm a good speller, if I ever do word puzzles, if I think I'd be nervous on a stage in front of about 500 people. I feel like answering every question with, "Are you kidding me?? Do you even know who you're talking to here??" He thanks me for volunteering and I am then told that only four people will be picked to be a part of the show. Four people out of about 500. Everyone waiting in the lobby has been on this line. There are still people waiting behind me. Registration eventually closes and they have to turn people away. When they come back out to announce the winners, I try to ready myself for the inevitable disappointment.
My name is the first one they call. >:)
My fellow spellers are another girl, about my age, maybe younger, with dark curly hair, who is actually taller than me (!); a precocious and adorably geek-chic, 10- or 11-year-old boy named Jack; and an older, somewhat Middle Eastern-looking man with a name I'm not even going to attempt to spell. Hopefully, it won't be the word I'm given during the competition. We are escorted to a small backstage office full of technical equipment for our "orientation." We are told where to come onstage, what to do once we're up there, how to adjust the microphone. We are told not to bring any electronic devices with us, to just react naturally and enjoy the show, and that the actors will help us. It is repeated several times, with great emphasis, that before we spell the word we're given, no matter how hard or easy a word it may be, we MUST ask two questions: "Can I have the definition, please?" and "Can you please use it in a sentence?" — and in that EXACT order. Then we are instructed very explicitly to NOT try to be funny: "Don't tell jokes or stay up there longer than you need to when you're done spelling. As funny as it may seem in your head, trust me, it's not going to be that funny. There are trained professionals up there for that; they don't need your help."
On my way back to my seat, I decide to try and play it like I wasn't picked after all, like I was just in the bathroom the whole time or something, so it will be a total surprise to my mom when they call me up, but she knows right away: "Well, first of all, you didn't come back in with the rest of them, and second, you're grinning like an idiot."
I am so excited I barely even hear the opening number; I'm focused solely on waiting for my cue. The "moderator" finally announces my name and the whole theater starts rustling and whispering and turning around to look as I jump out of my seat, plow past the rest of my row and skip down the aisle...then practically trip onto the stage. Yep, I definitely belong here — I am a true dork.
My number, as indicated by the enormous square of bright yellow cardboard hung around my neck, is 28 — coincidentally, the same number Al Sharpton was given when he was a guest speller during the Tony Awards performance. "Chip," the Cub Scout and "reigning champion," shows me where to sit on the bleachers. There's a musical number, I'm involved in a sight gag which I pull off like a pro, two actors are called up to spell, and then it's my turn.
I make my way a little nervously to the microphone at the front of the stage as the moderator perkily announces, "Miss Godan was voted 'Miss Congeniality' by her class for inviting the entire football team to her slumber party!" I play along with a demure little smile, and the audience cracks up. Man, I am loving this!
And then my word is "pakapu."
I am crestfallen. I have never heard this word before in my life. At least the audience seems to be enjoying/sharing in my reaction of utter confusion. I ask for the definition, as instructed (apparently it's some sort of Chinese lottery). I ask for a sentence, but the audience starts laughing so loudly I don't even hear it. Not like it would have even helped — the girl before me whose word was "jihad" got something like, "Mohammed always prepared the camel meat fresh each day at Ahmed's Jihad Deli."
[On a similar note: A few rounds later, another volunteer speller gets the word "cow," and sheepishly asks — as he's been told he absolutely MUST do — for the definition and for use in a sentence. The responses to these questions are, respectively: "It's a cow!" and "Spell the word 'cow'!"]
I tentatively repeat the word ("pock-a-poo...?"), then string together some reasonable-sounding letters and glance back at the judges hopefully.
*ding*
"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."
Devastation — I am the first contestant to be eliminated.
My mom tells me later that my face at that moment was perfect, that I really looked like a sad little girl. The audience gets a big laugh out of the "comfort counselor" — a large, thugged-out black man who is supposedly on parole and performing his "community service" — as he gives me a hug and a juice box before sending me back to my seat. At least I'm the first person to get "comforted," I think; the joke hasn't gotten old yet. Strangely, I do take some comfort in this. And maybe now I'll actually be able to hear the show — when you're onstage, everyone is singing with their backs to you, and I'm part-deaf as it is. And I was getting thirsty...
Afterwards, for the whole walk back to the train station, I can't stop giggling and asking did I sound ok and are you sure it was funny? I mean, people were laughing, right? I am so ridiculously proud of myself I'm practically floating down the streets of Manhattan.
I owe Courtney something REALLY good for Christmas next year. :)
So, for those of you who don't travel in these sorts of circles, the Tony award-winning Broadway musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will be closing on January 20th after a two-and-a-half year run. Upon hearing this news about three weeks ago — especially as an actress, a singer, and the bearer of an English degree, who lives for all things quirky — I was kicking myself for having missed the chance to see it.
Until I realized that I have a sister who does travel in these sorts of circles.
And who happened to be paying attention during this particular lament of mine, and who remembered it come Christmas present-buying time.
Which is how I came to be onstage with the cast, under the spotlights of the Circle in the Square Theater, beaming from ear to ear during yesterday evening's performance.
But let me back up a bit...
Technically, this is not the first time I've been in this sort of situation. For my 20th birthday, my mom took me to see Grease (with Rosie O'Donnell — remember that??), and when I made a request to the guy playing Vince Fontaine, who was spinning rock 'n' roll records before the show, I mentioned that it was my birthday, and he pulled me up onstage to dance (of course, I can't prove this because when Mom tried to take a picture of it, security confiscated her camera). And when I had front-row seats for the Broadway revival of The Rocky Horror Show about 8 years ago, I managed to jump onstage to dance with one of the Phantoms during the Time Warp — but then again, we are talking about Rocky Horror.* As for the Bee, I've only heard rumors of audience participation, so I'm not getting my hopes up.
*Case in point: When I saw it again the next year (with Sebastian Bach — remember that??) and somehow ended up being the only one in the audience who yelled out (per "the script") "What's your favorite toothpaste?" right before the word "gleam" in "I Can Make You A Man," and then "Mine's Crest — I like the PUMP!" right after it, Terrance Mann as Dr. Frank broke character to look right at me and shout back "Get your own damn show!"
The lobby of the theater is decorated like the hallways of a real middle school. Handwritten signs and posters advertising bake sales and club meetings, "Read to Achieve!" and all those other cheesy inspirational slogans plastered everywhere, actual rows of lockers, and — my personal favorite — a "Putnam County Lady Pirhanas — 1998 Field Hockey Champions" banner hanging from the ceiling. Against one wall is a "Volunteer Speller Registration" table, so, curious, I get in line. The cute gay boy with the clipboard asks me my name, where I'm from, if I'm a good speller, if I ever do word puzzles, if I think I'd be nervous on a stage in front of about 500 people. I feel like answering every question with, "Are you kidding me?? Do you even know who you're talking to here??" He thanks me for volunteering and I am then told that only four people will be picked to be a part of the show. Four people out of about 500. Everyone waiting in the lobby has been on this line. There are still people waiting behind me. Registration eventually closes and they have to turn people away. When they come back out to announce the winners, I try to ready myself for the inevitable disappointment.
My name is the first one they call. >:)
My fellow spellers are another girl, about my age, maybe younger, with dark curly hair, who is actually taller than me (!); a precocious and adorably geek-chic, 10- or 11-year-old boy named Jack; and an older, somewhat Middle Eastern-looking man with a name I'm not even going to attempt to spell. Hopefully, it won't be the word I'm given during the competition. We are escorted to a small backstage office full of technical equipment for our "orientation." We are told where to come onstage, what to do once we're up there, how to adjust the microphone. We are told not to bring any electronic devices with us, to just react naturally and enjoy the show, and that the actors will help us. It is repeated several times, with great emphasis, that before we spell the word we're given, no matter how hard or easy a word it may be, we MUST ask two questions: "Can I have the definition, please?" and "Can you please use it in a sentence?" — and in that EXACT order. Then we are instructed very explicitly to NOT try to be funny: "Don't tell jokes or stay up there longer than you need to when you're done spelling. As funny as it may seem in your head, trust me, it's not going to be that funny. There are trained professionals up there for that; they don't need your help."
On my way back to my seat, I decide to try and play it like I wasn't picked after all, like I was just in the bathroom the whole time or something, so it will be a total surprise to my mom when they call me up, but she knows right away: "Well, first of all, you didn't come back in with the rest of them, and second, you're grinning like an idiot."
I am so excited I barely even hear the opening number; I'm focused solely on waiting for my cue. The "moderator" finally announces my name and the whole theater starts rustling and whispering and turning around to look as I jump out of my seat, plow past the rest of my row and skip down the aisle...then practically trip onto the stage. Yep, I definitely belong here — I am a true dork.
My number, as indicated by the enormous square of bright yellow cardboard hung around my neck, is 28 — coincidentally, the same number Al Sharpton was given when he was a guest speller during the Tony Awards performance. "Chip," the Cub Scout and "reigning champion," shows me where to sit on the bleachers. There's a musical number, I'm involved in a sight gag which I pull off like a pro, two actors are called up to spell, and then it's my turn.
I make my way a little nervously to the microphone at the front of the stage as the moderator perkily announces, "Miss Godan was voted 'Miss Congeniality' by her class for inviting the entire football team to her slumber party!" I play along with a demure little smile, and the audience cracks up. Man, I am loving this!
And then my word is "pakapu."
I am crestfallen. I have never heard this word before in my life. At least the audience seems to be enjoying/sharing in my reaction of utter confusion. I ask for the definition, as instructed (apparently it's some sort of Chinese lottery). I ask for a sentence, but the audience starts laughing so loudly I don't even hear it. Not like it would have even helped — the girl before me whose word was "jihad" got something like, "Mohammed always prepared the camel meat fresh each day at Ahmed's Jihad Deli."
[On a similar note: A few rounds later, another volunteer speller gets the word "cow," and sheepishly asks — as he's been told he absolutely MUST do — for the definition and for use in a sentence. The responses to these questions are, respectively: "It's a cow!" and "Spell the word 'cow'!"]
I tentatively repeat the word ("pock-a-poo...?"), then string together some reasonable-sounding letters and glance back at the judges hopefully.
*ding*
"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."
Devastation — I am the first contestant to be eliminated.
My mom tells me later that my face at that moment was perfect, that I really looked like a sad little girl. The audience gets a big laugh out of the "comfort counselor" — a large, thugged-out black man who is supposedly on parole and performing his "community service" — as he gives me a hug and a juice box before sending me back to my seat. At least I'm the first person to get "comforted," I think; the joke hasn't gotten old yet. Strangely, I do take some comfort in this. And maybe now I'll actually be able to hear the show — when you're onstage, everyone is singing with their backs to you, and I'm part-deaf as it is. And I was getting thirsty...
Afterwards, for the whole walk back to the train station, I can't stop giggling and asking did I sound ok and are you sure it was funny? I mean, people were laughing, right? I am so ridiculously proud of myself I'm practically floating down the streets of Manhattan.
I owe Courtney something REALLY good for Christmas next year. :)
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Highlights
In honor of tonight's season premiere of Shear Genius on Bravo, here are some remarks I had previously made in response to Tom & Lorenzo's "Meet The Stylists!" post on Project RunGay:
JOEYOriginal bio:
Joey's affinity for luscious locks began at the age of 14, initially as a way to practice flirting with girls. But while sweeping hair at a family member's hairdressing business, he discovered his passion for hair went deeper. He soon left secondary school and took the plunge into professional hairdressing — which kept him both out of trouble and in with the ladies. Joey has since made a name for himself by directing hair for the Perth Fashion Festival, styling hair for "Precinct and Cream." He was recently honored as one of four finalists at this year's prestigious Hair Expo Australian Hairdresser of the Year Awards. Joey is currently the artistic director and part owner of Rokk Ebony salon and has won accolades at several cutting competitions including Hair Expo, Wella Trend Visions and Star Search Collections.
My value-added version:
Joey's affinity for luscious WOMEN began at the age of 14, initially as a way to practice flirting with GIRLS, BECAUSE HE IS STRAIGHT. But while sweeping hair at a family member's hairdressing business, AND NOT IN A SWISHY GAY WAY EITHER, he discovered his passion for WOMEN went deeper. He soon left secondary school and took the plunge into VAGINA and professional hairdressing — which kept him both out of GAY BARS and in with THE LADIES, BECAUSE HE IS STRAIGHT AND LOVES WOMEN. Joey has since made a name for himself by directing hair for the Perth Fashion Festival, styling hair for "Precinct and Cream," AND FUCKING WOMEN. He was recently honored as one of four finalists at this year's prestigious Hair Expo Australian Hairdresser of the Year Awards AND HIS DATE FOR THE EVENT WAS A SMOKIN' HOT BABE. Joey is currently the artistic director and part owner of Rokk Ebony salon and TOTALLY STRAIGHT. He has won accolades at several cutting competitions including Hair Expo, Wella Trend Visions and Star Search Collections AND HE IS A STRAIGHT MAN WHO LOVES THE LADIES.
Joey's affinity for luscious locks began at the age of 14, initially as a way to practice flirting with girls. But while sweeping hair at a family member's hairdressing business, he discovered his passion for hair went deeper. He soon left secondary school and took the plunge into professional hairdressing — which kept him both out of trouble and in with the ladies. Joey has since made a name for himself by directing hair for the Perth Fashion Festival, styling hair for "Precinct and Cream." He was recently honored as one of four finalists at this year's prestigious Hair Expo Australian Hairdresser of the Year Awards. Joey is currently the artistic director and part owner of Rokk Ebony salon and has won accolades at several cutting competitions including Hair Expo, Wella Trend Visions and Star Search Collections.
My value-added version:
Joey's affinity for luscious WOMEN began at the age of 14, initially as a way to practice flirting with GIRLS, BECAUSE HE IS STRAIGHT. But while sweeping hair at a family member's hairdressing business, AND NOT IN A SWISHY GAY WAY EITHER, he discovered his passion for WOMEN went deeper. He soon left secondary school and took the plunge into VAGINA and professional hairdressing — which kept him both out of GAY BARS and in with THE LADIES, BECAUSE HE IS STRAIGHT AND LOVES WOMEN. Joey has since made a name for himself by directing hair for the Perth Fashion Festival, styling hair for "Precinct and Cream," AND FUCKING WOMEN. He was recently honored as one of four finalists at this year's prestigious Hair Expo Australian Hairdresser of the Year Awards AND HIS DATE FOR THE EVENT WAS A SMOKIN' HOT BABE. Joey is currently the artistic director and part owner of Rokk Ebony salon and TOTALLY STRAIGHT. He has won accolades at several cutting competitions including Hair Expo, Wella Trend Visions and Star Search Collections AND HE IS A STRAIGHT MAN WHO LOVES THE LADIES.
BRIGOriginal bio:
Owner of P!ay Hair Lounge, Brig has worked in the beauty industry for 13 years. After moving salons six times and growing frustrated with a traditional salon model that seemed to leave the stylists and the clients unsatisfied, Brig decided to change the mold. She is known for providing honest opinions and helping her clients recreate a professional hairstyle at home. Brig stays current by attending monthly classes, including instruction at Bumble & Bumble University in New York. She also spends time behind the camera photographing models and helping promote the work of other P!ay stylists. Brig has been featured in Life & Style Magazine, and her work has been seen in Modern Salon, American Salon Magazine, and on the television series What Not to Wear.
My value-added version:
Owner of P!#%ay Hair Lounge, Brig has worked in the beauty industry for 13 years AND IS OUT OF HER GODDAMN MIND. After moving salons six times BECAUSE SHE SCARED HER CUSTOMERS' SMALL CHILDREN and growing frustrated with traditional PUNCTUATION that seemed to leave the stylists LEGALLY BLIND and the clients FRIGHTENED, Brig decided to change the mold INTO PENICILLIN. She is known for BEING BATSHIT INSANE, providing BIZARRE opinions and helping her clients recreate a professional CYNDI-LAUPER-IMPERSONATOR hairstyle at home. Brig stays current by attending monthly CULT MEETINGS, including instruction at THE OFF-BROADWAY SHOW AWESOME '80s PROM in New York. She also spends time behind the camera SMOKING CRACK and helping promote the work of other P!#%@^&ay stylists. Brig has been ASKED "WHAT THE HELL KIND OF NAME IS 'BRIG' ANYWAY?", and her work has been seen in Modern Salon, American Salon Magazine, and HER WARDROBE HAS BEEN FEATURED on the television series What Not to Wear.
Owner of P!ay Hair Lounge, Brig has worked in the beauty industry for 13 years. After moving salons six times and growing frustrated with a traditional salon model that seemed to leave the stylists and the clients unsatisfied, Brig decided to change the mold. She is known for providing honest opinions and helping her clients recreate a professional hairstyle at home. Brig stays current by attending monthly classes, including instruction at Bumble & Bumble University in New York. She also spends time behind the camera photographing models and helping promote the work of other P!ay stylists. Brig has been featured in Life & Style Magazine, and her work has been seen in Modern Salon, American Salon Magazine, and on the television series What Not to Wear.
My value-added version:
Owner of P!#%ay Hair Lounge, Brig has worked in the beauty industry for 13 years AND IS OUT OF HER GODDAMN MIND. After moving salons six times BECAUSE SHE SCARED HER CUSTOMERS' SMALL CHILDREN and growing frustrated with traditional PUNCTUATION that seemed to leave the stylists LEGALLY BLIND and the clients FRIGHTENED, Brig decided to change the mold INTO PENICILLIN. She is known for BEING BATSHIT INSANE, providing BIZARRE opinions and helping her clients recreate a professional CYNDI-LAUPER-IMPERSONATOR hairstyle at home. Brig stays current by attending monthly CULT MEETINGS, including instruction at THE OFF-BROADWAY SHOW AWESOME '80s PROM in New York. She also spends time behind the camera SMOKING CRACK and helping promote the work of other P!#%@^&ay stylists. Brig has been ASKED "WHAT THE HELL KIND OF NAME IS 'BRIG' ANYWAY?", and her work has been seen in Modern Salon, American Salon Magazine, and HER WARDROBE HAS BEEN FEATURED on the television series What Not to Wear.
JANINEOriginal bio:
When she's not circling the globe running from photo shoot to fashion show, Janine can be found giving her clients their "mane" fix at her Hollywood salon, Hairroin. She has been experimenting with hair design and technique since the age of 14 and enrolled in cosmetology school soon after graduating high school. Within her first five years, Janine had styled some of Hollywood's hottest stars including Fergie, Britney Spears, Scarlett Johansson and Christina Applegate. She served as the go-to stylist for Carmen Electra and the sexy burlesque group The Pussycat Dolls, whom she styled through their transition from vaudeville act to MTV video vixens. From 2000 to 2007, Janine worked alongside her two mentors at Sexy Hair products, assisting in the development and launching of new product lines, as well as in the role of elite platform and international educator. In 2009, Janine joined the Sebastian Professional Design Team and now represents the brand on the West Coast.
My value-added version:
When she's not circling the globe running from STREET CORNER TO STRIPPER POLE, Janine can be found giving her clients HEAD at her Hollywood salon, HAIRROIN [NOTE: I did not have to change that part]. She has been experimenting with DRUGS and SEXUAL technique since the age of 14 and enrolled in cosmetology school soon after FLUNKING OUT OF high school AND APPLYING FOR A JOB AT HOOTERS. Within her first five years, Janine had HERPES, JUST LIKE some of Hollywood's hottest stars including Fergie, Britney Spears, Scarlett Johansson and Christina Applegate. She served as the go-to stylist for CARMEN ELECTRA [I didn't have to change that part either] and the sexy burlesque group The Pussycat Dolls, whom she styled through their transition from vaudeville act to TOTAL WHORES. From 2000 to 2007, Janine worked UNDERNEATH her two mentors at SEXY HAIR PRODUCTS [This shit just gets better and better!], assisting in the development and launching of new SEX TOY lines, as well as in the role of elite CALL GIRL and international SEX educator. In 2009, Janine joined the ADULT FILM ACTORS UNION and now IMPERSONATES TIFFANI-AMBER THEISSEN on the West Coast.
My value-added version:
When she's not circling the globe running from STREET CORNER TO STRIPPER POLE, Janine can be found giving her clients HEAD at her Hollywood salon, HAIRROIN [NOTE: I did not have to change that part]. She has been experimenting with DRUGS and SEXUAL technique since the age of 14 and enrolled in cosmetology school soon after FLUNKING OUT OF high school AND APPLYING FOR A JOB AT HOOTERS. Within her first five years, Janine had HERPES, JUST LIKE some of Hollywood's hottest stars including Fergie, Britney Spears, Scarlett Johansson and Christina Applegate. She served as the go-to stylist for CARMEN ELECTRA [I didn't have to change that part either] and the sexy burlesque group The Pussycat Dolls, whom she styled through their transition from vaudeville act to TOTAL WHORES. From 2000 to 2007, Janine worked UNDERNEATH her two mentors at SEXY HAIR PRODUCTS [This shit just gets better and better!], assisting in the development and launching of new SEX TOY lines, as well as in the role of elite CALL GIRL and international SEX educator. In 2009, Janine joined the ADULT FILM ACTORS UNION and now IMPERSONATES TIFFANI-AMBER THEISSEN on the West Coast.
APRIL
Way-too-easy version:
April began her career in the late eighties AND HAS BEEN STUCK THERE EVER SINCE.
Also, if I could be this chick...
...for just ONE DAY of my life, it would be the most fabulous day ever. *sigh*
Phrases In Spanish That I Remember Solely To Confuse People
Yo tengo queso en mis ojos.
¿Quieres albóndigas? ¡Si, siempre!
¿La basura, por favor?
¡Las balsas salvavidas!
¿Donde están mis zapatos? ¡En la biblioteca con mi gato!
¿Qué hora es? Queso.
¿Quieres albóndigas? ¡Si, siempre!
¿La basura, por favor?
¡Las balsas salvavidas!
¿Donde están mis zapatos? ¡En la biblioteca con mi gato!
¿Qué hora es? Queso.
Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming
NeuroticGirl began its life as a prospective band name. Of course, I don't write music, and while I may be a karaoke goddess, I've never been in a band, but that never stopped me from visualizing a life of fame and really cool stage outfits. I was particularly fond of coming up with ideas for album covers. My eponymous debut was going to be a picture of the mini-fridge in my college dorm room with "NeuroticGirl" spelled out on it in crooked, colorful alphabet magnets. And before (of all freakin' people) Fountains Of Wayne stole the idea, my follow-up was going to be called "Utopia Parkway," and the cover would have been a shot of the actual Utopia Parkway exit sign with "NeuroticGirl" spray-painted across it. Genius, right?
As a word person as well, I also spent a lot of time coming up with catchy, cryptic-sounding song titles, like "The Devil You Know" and "If Not Now." These "songs" had no lyrics or melodies, and I had no idea what they might even be about, but they kept me amused. Or delusional, however you choose to see it.
My sister, however, is in a band, and she's kind of my hero for that. She writes lyrics and sings and she just looks like a rock star. Their sound is kind of ska-punk-pop, and they kick ass. I'm not just saying that either — after seeing them play for the first time, my brother confessed to me, "You know, I just came to this show thinking, ok, it's my sister, this is just some thing she's doing, I'll be nice, but they're actually good!"
They've gone through a lot of personnel changes since their inception. Originally, they included 3 Johns; now there are 2 Mikes. And there was more than a little confusion at the start on the issue of a name. They went through a few incarnations, but someone always thought it didn't feel right. This is when inspiration struck — for me, that is. Scrolling back through my mental list of phantom song titles, I made a suggestion, and they hit upon a solution.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you: All Out Riot.
Knowing I've contributed in some small way to their existence makes me feel a little less sheepish about living vicariously through their experiences. I sing along to every song out in the crowd, and like any proud and fame(-by-proxy)-craving sibling, I love shouting "That's my little sister!" when she's up there onstage.
My new imaginary band name is "Very Small Monster." Thank you, Cleveland!
As a word person as well, I also spent a lot of time coming up with catchy, cryptic-sounding song titles, like "The Devil You Know" and "If Not Now." These "songs" had no lyrics or melodies, and I had no idea what they might even be about, but they kept me amused. Or delusional, however you choose to see it.
My sister, however, is in a band, and she's kind of my hero for that. She writes lyrics and sings and she just looks like a rock star. Their sound is kind of ska-punk-pop, and they kick ass. I'm not just saying that either — after seeing them play for the first time, my brother confessed to me, "You know, I just came to this show thinking, ok, it's my sister, this is just some thing she's doing, I'll be nice, but they're actually good!"
They've gone through a lot of personnel changes since their inception. Originally, they included 3 Johns; now there are 2 Mikes. And there was more than a little confusion at the start on the issue of a name. They went through a few incarnations, but someone always thought it didn't feel right. This is when inspiration struck — for me, that is. Scrolling back through my mental list of phantom song titles, I made a suggestion, and they hit upon a solution.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you: All Out Riot.
Knowing I've contributed in some small way to their existence makes me feel a little less sheepish about living vicariously through their experiences. I sing along to every song out in the crowd, and like any proud and fame(-by-proxy)-craving sibling, I love shouting "That's my little sister!" when she's up there onstage.
My new imaginary band name is "Very Small Monster." Thank you, Cleveland!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Scattered Thoughts On The 2010 Miss America Pageant (Continued)
This dance number is the most awkward thing ever.
I hate when they say "YOUR Miss Wisconsin!" I'm not from Wisconsin. You're not "my" anything. I don't want you.
Jesus! New Jersey scared the crap out of me.
Some of these girls sound really bitchy — "No, I CAN'T see Russia from my house," "Yes, security IS tighter here than at the White House state dinner," "The only state where you have the FREEDOM to be smart" — stop trying to be political. I don't care what they call it nowadays, it's a damn beauty pageant.
Miss Nevada's "World Series/Pokerface" line: WIN.
"Taylor-Treat-and-I-love-sweets!" needs to shut the fuck up right now.
For Christ's sake, Kelly, the girl's in a state of shock and has 3 minutes to glue her ass into a bikini — stop trying to interview her!
Jesus! Miss Colorado is 8 feet tall.
Dancer, singer, singer, singer, dancer, singer, singer, pianist, singer, singer. Why do we never get to see a chick Jello-wrestle or rock a drum solo or solve a Rubik's cube for their talent? Even a violinist would be a nice change of pace.
And of course, Miss Hawaii is going to do the hula. There's no way she tops this:
Last year's Miss Hawaii
Clinton needs to stop talking about how they won't let him into the dressing room. It's getting creepy.
Dang, these gowns are hideous. Get these chicks on Project Runway STAT!
Oh good! Here comes the really uncomfortable part!
Jesus! What the hell is Louisiana wearing?
God, this is like when they make the Victoria's Secret models talk.
YES!!! Mario Lopez: "What must you be thinking right now?" Miss D.C.: "Hurry up." LMAO!
New Mexico's on quaaludes.
I guess I'm rooting for California.
...so of course, she comes in second.
Annnnnd Virginia takes the pot.
Aww, her mom is crying. I can totally picture her shouting "My baby is Miss America!" just like Danielle crying "I'm a Cover Girl, mommy!" when she won Top Model.
...even though her baby looks like a beaded banana.
[Special thanks to Astra for that great line.]
I hate when they say "YOUR Miss Wisconsin!" I'm not from Wisconsin. You're not "my" anything. I don't want you.
Jesus! New Jersey scared the crap out of me.
Some of these girls sound really bitchy — "No, I CAN'T see Russia from my house," "Yes, security IS tighter here than at the White House state dinner," "The only state where you have the FREEDOM to be smart" — stop trying to be political. I don't care what they call it nowadays, it's a damn beauty pageant.
Miss Nevada's "World Series/Pokerface" line: WIN.
"Taylor-Treat-and-I-love-sweets!" needs to shut the fuck up right now.
For Christ's sake, Kelly, the girl's in a state of shock and has 3 minutes to glue her ass into a bikini — stop trying to interview her!
Jesus! Miss Colorado is 8 feet tall.
Dancer, singer, singer, singer, dancer, singer, singer, pianist, singer, singer. Why do we never get to see a chick Jello-wrestle or rock a drum solo or solve a Rubik's cube for their talent? Even a violinist would be a nice change of pace.
And of course, Miss Hawaii is going to do the hula. There's no way she tops this:
Last year's Miss Hawaii
Clinton needs to stop talking about how they won't let him into the dressing room. It's getting creepy.
Dang, these gowns are hideous. Get these chicks on Project Runway STAT!
Oh good! Here comes the really uncomfortable part!
Jesus! What the hell is Louisiana wearing?
God, this is like when they make the Victoria's Secret models talk.
YES!!! Mario Lopez: "What must you be thinking right now?" Miss D.C.: "Hurry up." LMAO!
New Mexico's on quaaludes.
I guess I'm rooting for California.
...so of course, she comes in second.
Annnnnd Virginia takes the pot.
Aww, her mom is crying. I can totally picture her shouting "My baby is Miss America!" just like Danielle crying "I'm a Cover Girl, mommy!" when she won Top Model.
...even though her baby looks like a beaded banana.
[Special thanks to Astra for that great line.]
Scattered Thoughts On The 2010 Miss America Pageant
Pre-show (yes, I am such a fanatic that I watch the pre-show):
Good lord, since when does Clinton Kelly have facial hair? He looks horrible. You host a makeover show, dude! Didn't you look in the mirror?
Damn it, I was really hoping he was actually going to change into a bathing suit for his "swimsuit walk" lesson.
Hot DAMN! Miss Puerto Rico is GORGEOUS!
Are those clear stripper heels they're all wearing? Classy!
And Miss New York wins the preliminary swimsuit competition — heck yeah! REPRESENT!
OMG, Miss Puerto Rico's evening gown is GORGEOUS! I hope she takes this whole thing down.
Why does "the only redhead in the competition" have to look like Allison Janney?
I hate when they wear white. Bah.
Oh God, that ruffled periwinkle thing is atrocious. What is that, acetate?
Susan Powell says it's not all about the dresses and she wouldn't take points off if a girl stumbles. What's the freaking point of the whole evening gown competition then?
Jeez, none of these girls know how to work a runway. Totally stiff walks and frozen smiles.
...except, of course, Miss Puerto Rico. Strut that stuff, girl!
Holy shit, Miss New York's gown is FABULOUS! REPRESENT!
RUSH LIMBAUGH is a judge?? WTF??
I cringe every time one of these girls says "I, personally, am pro-life." I bet Rush is keeping tabs.
Oh, Christ: "It is my belief that marriage is the union between a man and a woman." Thank you, Carrie Prejean — NEXT!
Miss New York seems pretty chill and normal. Cool. REPRESENT!
Vivica Fox: "You aren't allowed to touch us." LMAO!
Ugh, stop calling them "chicken cutlets." That grosses me out. And how is that not cheating?
"Butt glue" sounds like a phrase I'd find in one of my engineering manuals. Or something really, really disgusting.
YES!!! WE HAVE A BATON TWIRLER!!!
Dang, Miss California! That was some back bend!
Speaking of flexibility, Miss New Mexico can tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue, and Miss Kentucky can zip herself into a suitcase. Just like Yen in Ocean's Twelve! How funny would it be if Clinton just left her in there for a few hours?
Oh my God, crazy eyes! Who the hell is this, Rhode Island? And she can recite like, a thousand decimals of pi? In a creepy monotone while staring into my soul, too? Good lord, this girl is scary.
"I believe I can be the next Miss America because it has been my dream ever since I was a little girl and I know I would be great at it." That's nice. I believe I could be a neurosurgeon because I've always wanted to be one and I think I'd be pretty good at it — hand me a scalpel!
More to come...
Good lord, since when does Clinton Kelly have facial hair? He looks horrible. You host a makeover show, dude! Didn't you look in the mirror?
Damn it, I was really hoping he was actually going to change into a bathing suit for his "swimsuit walk" lesson.
Hot DAMN! Miss Puerto Rico is GORGEOUS!
Are those clear stripper heels they're all wearing? Classy!
And Miss New York wins the preliminary swimsuit competition — heck yeah! REPRESENT!
OMG, Miss Puerto Rico's evening gown is GORGEOUS! I hope she takes this whole thing down.
Why does "the only redhead in the competition" have to look like Allison Janney?
I hate when they wear white. Bah.
Oh God, that ruffled periwinkle thing is atrocious. What is that, acetate?
Susan Powell says it's not all about the dresses and she wouldn't take points off if a girl stumbles. What's the freaking point of the whole evening gown competition then?
Jeez, none of these girls know how to work a runway. Totally stiff walks and frozen smiles.
...except, of course, Miss Puerto Rico. Strut that stuff, girl!
Holy shit, Miss New York's gown is FABULOUS! REPRESENT!
RUSH LIMBAUGH is a judge?? WTF??
I cringe every time one of these girls says "I, personally, am pro-life." I bet Rush is keeping tabs.
Oh, Christ: "It is my belief that marriage is the union between a man and a woman." Thank you, Carrie Prejean — NEXT!
Miss New York seems pretty chill and normal. Cool. REPRESENT!
Vivica Fox: "You aren't allowed to touch us." LMAO!
Ugh, stop calling them "chicken cutlets." That grosses me out. And how is that not cheating?
"Butt glue" sounds like a phrase I'd find in one of my engineering manuals. Or something really, really disgusting.
YES!!! WE HAVE A BATON TWIRLER!!!
Dang, Miss California! That was some back bend!
Speaking of flexibility, Miss New Mexico can tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue, and Miss Kentucky can zip herself into a suitcase. Just like Yen in Ocean's Twelve! How funny would it be if Clinton just left her in there for a few hours?
Oh my God, crazy eyes! Who the hell is this, Rhode Island? And she can recite like, a thousand decimals of pi? In a creepy monotone while staring into my soul, too? Good lord, this girl is scary.
"I believe I can be the next Miss America because it has been my dream ever since I was a little girl and I know I would be great at it." That's nice. I believe I could be a neurosurgeon because I've always wanted to be one and I think I'd be pretty good at it — hand me a scalpel!
More to come...
Monday, February 1, 2010
Scattered Thoughts On The 2010 Grammy Awards
In roughly chronological order:
GAGA!!!
Holy crap — Elton John! Genius!
Amazing. As always.
Colbert disses Adam. Grrr...
It took 4 people to write "Single Ladies"? It only has 4 lines!
Beyonce wins the first award of the night and she's backstage getting dressed. Well done, Grammy Award scheduler.
Why is J-Lo still relevant?
GREEN DAY!!!
Really cool performance. Soloist girl reminds me of someone from Rent. I will be seeing that show.
Sasha Fierce is HERE, bitches! I think she's wearing Atelier Versace.
Did she just grab her crotch?
What?? ALANIS?!? Is she there?!?!
No...?
NOOO!!! Stop! You’re KILLING it! GAH!
[This is when I text my sister, who was on DVR delay: "Are you up to Beyonce yet?" She responds: "Yeah. Not impressed." I respond: "Just wait." Sure enough, a few minutes later I get: "WHAT. THE. F??"]
Yeah, not impressed either. Too affected. All spectacle, no substance.
When did P!nk become a pagan priestess?
When did P!nk join Cirque du Soleil?
Have to give her props for still singing live while doing all that. Go on, girl!
[This is when my mom texts me: "Everyone's just trying to be more shocking than the last one. Doesn't anyone just SING anymore?"]
OMG SURVIVOR FEBRUARY 11TH!
AND COACH IS BACK!!!
Black-Eyed Peas — best entrance EVER!
...and all downhill from there.
Kings of Leon — best speech of the night.
Green Day — second-best speech of the night.
OMG AMAZING RACE FEBRUARY 14TH!
The singers they chose for this Michael Jackson tribute are the musical equivalent of that "A priest, a rabbi, and a duck" joke.
Jesus, stop dragging his kids out for this shit! Enough with the forced sympathy already. Anyone else want to exploit the man's legacy and capitalize on his death??
[Somewhere in here I completely fast-forwarded through Lady Antebellum and the Zac Brown Band. I'm sure you understand.]
Wow, Sheryl Crow is friends with some guy who won an award! Good for her!!!
HAI GUISE U THINK WYCLEF IS FROM HAITI? "I'mma speak some Creole now because I just murdered English."
Why do they keep pairing Andrea Boccelli with Mary J. Blige? They don't go together at all. In fact, why do they keep pairing Mary J. Blige with anyone? She always sounds like she's in pain.
[This is where my mom texts me: "See? Great performance and no swinging from the ceiling." I respond "That's because he's blind. He might fall." I am going to hell for this.]
Jamie Foxx and Slash...?
Mos Def and Placido Domingo...?
Katy Perry and Alice Cooper...? Man, this just keeps getting better!
Taylor Swift is no Stevie Nicks.
This is fucking ridiculous. SHE'S A GODDAMN TEENAGER, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
And I'm getting really tired of these "She's a cheerleader but I wear jeans and t-shirts so he'll never notice how special I am/Ha ha, you're a cheerleader but I wear jeans and t-shirts and he likes me better" lyrics. Paramore did it recently, Avril Lavigne did it 8 years ago, and it was just as annoying then. None of you will ever be Watts from Some Kind Of Wonderful, so try something original for a change.
Jesus, Kanye West is featured in EVERY ONE OF THESE SONGS!
Random little kid at the mic with Jay-Z and Rihanna — new best speech of the night.
Aww, Dave Matthews Band. That was sweet. Simple, nice little performance. Love Boyd the violinist.
Jeff Bridges is awesome.
I like this rockabilly girl.
Quentin Tarantino is obnoxious.
I don’t know or care to know who "Drake" is. I thought they said Dre. Dang.
[This is when my mom and I simultaneously text each other: "PULL YOUR DAMN PANTS UP!"]
Oh my goodness, that old man looked so handsome in his little white hat! Precious!
Ke$ha looks like she's been in, or is shortly going to be in, a bar fight.
Who is this kid? God, he's a mess. Just read the teleprompter!
YESSS! "Living On A Prayer" wins!
...and they only play one verse? WTF, Jon?
GaGa looks INCREDIBLE! Feel bad for anyone sitting behind her, though.
John Legend's a classy guy.
Taylor Swift blah blah fairy tale blah blah.
Conclusion: GaGa was robbed, and I should have just gone to bed after Green Day.
Thank you, Cleveland!
GAGA!!!
Holy crap — Elton John! Genius!
Amazing. As always.
Colbert disses Adam. Grrr...
It took 4 people to write "Single Ladies"? It only has 4 lines!
Beyonce wins the first award of the night and she's backstage getting dressed. Well done, Grammy Award scheduler.
Why is J-Lo still relevant?
GREEN DAY!!!
Really cool performance. Soloist girl reminds me of someone from Rent. I will be seeing that show.
Sasha Fierce is HERE, bitches! I think she's wearing Atelier Versace.
Did she just grab her crotch?
What?? ALANIS?!? Is she there?!?!
No...?
NOOO!!! Stop! You’re KILLING it! GAH!
[This is when I text my sister, who was on DVR delay: "Are you up to Beyonce yet?" She responds: "Yeah. Not impressed." I respond: "Just wait." Sure enough, a few minutes later I get: "WHAT. THE. F??"]
Yeah, not impressed either. Too affected. All spectacle, no substance.
When did P!nk become a pagan priestess?
When did P!nk join Cirque du Soleil?
Have to give her props for still singing live while doing all that. Go on, girl!
[This is when my mom texts me: "Everyone's just trying to be more shocking than the last one. Doesn't anyone just SING anymore?"]
OMG SURVIVOR FEBRUARY 11TH!
AND COACH IS BACK!!!
Black-Eyed Peas — best entrance EVER!
...and all downhill from there.
Kings of Leon — best speech of the night.
Green Day — second-best speech of the night.
OMG AMAZING RACE FEBRUARY 14TH!
The singers they chose for this Michael Jackson tribute are the musical equivalent of that "A priest, a rabbi, and a duck" joke.
Jesus, stop dragging his kids out for this shit! Enough with the forced sympathy already. Anyone else want to exploit the man's legacy and capitalize on his death??
[Somewhere in here I completely fast-forwarded through Lady Antebellum and the Zac Brown Band. I'm sure you understand.]
Wow, Sheryl Crow is friends with some guy who won an award! Good for her!!!
HAI GUISE U THINK WYCLEF IS FROM HAITI? "I'mma speak some Creole now because I just murdered English."
Why do they keep pairing Andrea Boccelli with Mary J. Blige? They don't go together at all. In fact, why do they keep pairing Mary J. Blige with anyone? She always sounds like she's in pain.
[This is where my mom texts me: "See? Great performance and no swinging from the ceiling." I respond "That's because he's blind. He might fall." I am going to hell for this.]
Jamie Foxx and Slash...?
Mos Def and Placido Domingo...?
Katy Perry and Alice Cooper...? Man, this just keeps getting better!
Taylor Swift is no Stevie Nicks.
This is fucking ridiculous. SHE'S A GODDAMN TEENAGER, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
And I'm getting really tired of these "She's a cheerleader but I wear jeans and t-shirts so he'll never notice how special I am/Ha ha, you're a cheerleader but I wear jeans and t-shirts and he likes me better" lyrics. Paramore did it recently, Avril Lavigne did it 8 years ago, and it was just as annoying then. None of you will ever be Watts from Some Kind Of Wonderful, so try something original for a change.
Jesus, Kanye West is featured in EVERY ONE OF THESE SONGS!
Random little kid at the mic with Jay-Z and Rihanna — new best speech of the night.
Aww, Dave Matthews Band. That was sweet. Simple, nice little performance. Love Boyd the violinist.
Jeff Bridges is awesome.
I like this rockabilly girl.
Quentin Tarantino is obnoxious.
I don’t know or care to know who "Drake" is. I thought they said Dre. Dang.
[This is when my mom and I simultaneously text each other: "PULL YOUR DAMN PANTS UP!"]
Oh my goodness, that old man looked so handsome in his little white hat! Precious!
Ke$ha looks like she's been in, or is shortly going to be in, a bar fight.
Who is this kid? God, he's a mess. Just read the teleprompter!
YESSS! "Living On A Prayer" wins!
...and they only play one verse? WTF, Jon?
GaGa looks INCREDIBLE! Feel bad for anyone sitting behind her, though.
John Legend's a classy guy.
Taylor Swift blah blah fairy tale blah blah.
Conclusion: GaGa was robbed, and I should have just gone to bed after Green Day.
Thank you, Cleveland!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
