Saturday, January 28, 2006


Questions and notions that have crossed my mind of late...

If we live in such a male-dominated society, why is it that men are yelled at for leaving the toilet seat up, instead of women being to blame for not returning it to the upright position?

I absolutely HATE when people pronounce teat as "teet". I know it's considered a correct pronunciation, but it didn't used to be. Then again, I went to school hearing, "Ain't ain't a word" and now it's in the freaking dictionary :~P It's "tit" people! You might not want to say it that way, but that's the historically correct pronunciation. Now quit being squeamish.

I continue to love Jason Priestley, and will watch pretty much any show (or tv movie) that he's in at least once.

I also love tv shows that are narrated by the main character. At least, they weigh in a little more positively than those that aren't.

Why is it that the *best* indicator that I've used my inhaler correctly is the fucking hand tremors? Couldn't I just briefly turn a shade of orange or something?

I don't know why, or where/how my mind/heart draws the distinction, but there are some people who I just like, and when (like right now) I'm in the middle of a massive perfume-packaging extravaganza, I tend to give them preference in terms of sending something that multiple people want. I'm not talking about people I've established a friendship with off the board, or even necessarily people I'm particularly chatty with on the board. And I'm not trying to establish a closer relationship. It's just that if I have to choose between 2 or more people when I'm sending a sample to a new home, these people tend to win out.

I recently discovered why the the Jitterbug was so popular - they were clapping ass back in the 30's! I feel woefully ignorant...

Why do I get so *personally* happy about things that have nothing to do with me? Like hearing the latest Depeche Mode single on tv shows. I have no personal stake in their success, yet my happiness hearing them played so widely goes beyond the fact that they're one of my favorite bands and I love hearing their music. It's not that their continued success means a higher likelihood that they'll keep making music together (though that DOES make me happy). I get happy FOR them, in some weird way, that they're still going strong. Like I'm their mom or something.

My current favorite quote: "Help control the local pet population. Teach your dog abstinence" - Stephen Colbert

Friday, January 27, 2006


I know it's just fiction, but I'm *glad* about the character on this week's episode of CSI: NY that was murdered after swallowing live bettas. Bastard.

And I'd also like to add at this point that any asshole frat pledge who dies during hazing after swallowing goldfish *also* has nothing but scorn from me. I know it (the dying) doesn't happen as often as tv dramas would like us to believe, but a girl can dream, right? Ditto to the matadors and picadors. And I wish someone would croak on Fear Factor after eating live insects.

Sorry, but eating something alive is just cruel, and killing for sport and entertainment is as well. I'm not stainless, considering that I love meat, but I draw my lines where I choose.

Monday, January 23, 2006

I am a child

I know any good shrink could explain why I'm in so many ways immature. Hell, *I* can explain it. The negative impacts of some of my life experiences are massive and far-reaching. One of those results is that I am not an adult, emotionally. But I see no real need to "grow up", "act my age", or in any way conform to any of the other myriad euphemisms out there for NOT being a kid. I'm able to experience things with a wonder I find sadly lacking on most "adult" perspectives, and my humor is equally childish. I can giggle till my belly hurts at the most inane things, like going frame-by-frame on poor Jennaphr Frederick (because while she's a decent-looking person, she makes some AWFUL faces when viewed that way). God, I love TiVo!

Which brings me to the purpose of this brief post. As I've said in the past, I *love* tv. I like all kinds of shows, especially medical dramas. Some medical dramas are excellent - from a technical/medical correctness AND character perspective, House is hands-down THE best. Others are so bad, they make me yell at the tv - I thank God that Medical Emergency was canceled! And then there are those that are mediocre/passable, but allow for a totally different sort of amusement. Like Crossing Jordan. For anyone with a quick eye and/or TiVo, this show is an excellent source of entertainment. Hell – it would be great fodder for a college drinking game! I would give the game a title that honors one of my all-time favorite movies – Monty Python and the Holy Grail – and call it "I'm Not Dead Yet!"

The game is simple – watch the show, and any time a corpse moves in some way, everyone drinks. Seriously – is there NO editing??? Are the extras THAT bad? How many takes would it require to get a shot where the dead body DOESN'T twitch in some way? Clearly the cost of editing/hiring decent extras/filming further takes is more than the producers are willing to spend, because the damn cadavers are ALWAYS moving. Breathing and eyelid twitching are the most common tics, but there are others to be found if one is observant. You can play this game with any of the CSI series too, but Crossing Jordan is the real gold mine. And now that it's in syndication on A&E, there are even more opportunities to participate!

See you on the playground!

Monday, January 09, 2006

I've been a bad, bad girl...

According to the dictionary, I am a profane individual, in that I am frequently irreverent in regard to what some (ok, many) people consider sacred. I am a Christian, though not in any traditional sense of the word. It would take *way* more space (and time and effort) than I have here, now, to explain my beliefs. I believe that other faiths have validity, and I don't mock the religious beliefs of others. However, I *do* laugh at the eternal human presumption to know what God is thinking and planning.

I personally believe that an all-knowing, all-present, all-powerful deity could only be amused at our attempts to know and understand the vastness that is Itself. And to *assume* that we could possibly know what this unknowable being's Will, Plan, motivation, and intentions are is ludicrous even to this lowly human. In this regard, I take Neil Gaiman's stance: "God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time."

This is all going somewhere, I promise.

When last I visited my brother's family in Illinois, he was in Biloxi for the month, helping clean up after that bitch hurricane who used my name. I was helping my SIL watch the amazing children I'm lucky enough to play Tía to. It was somewhat late in the evening, and we were flipping through channels when we stumbled across THE funniest show in human history. Made all the more funny, of course, by it's intended deep seriousness.

The show is called, "Kirk Cameron" and airs on TBN. What it IS, is Kirk Cameron and his associates basically wandering around with a decent videocamera, accosting people on the street and trying to "save" them. I'm talking in the mall, outside nightclubs, you name it!

Now, we *had* imbibed a few glasses of wine, so I think our fits of giggles at his earnestness can (and should) be forgiven. What I'm NOT so sure about is this - I have started tivo-ing the show (yes, it's a SERIES) purely for my own amusement. I watch it to laugh at the absurdity that's so terribly lacking in modern sitcoms. Some of the cultural ignorance displayed on this show is truly sad, and sometimes downright scary, but it's simultaneously so ridiculous that it's laughable.

So... am I going to Hell? Or, rather, if I *believed* in Hell (which I don't) do you think I'd be going there?

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

And they say poetry is a dying art...

The universe has thrown a number of stripper-related references in my path over the past 24 hours. Cases in point:

So after that second thread, I'm in the car headed to the store when the following song comes on the radio. I'm pretty sure it's not intended as a joke.

I'm N Love (Wit A Stripper) - by T-Pain ("lyrics" found on

Goddamn Lil Mama
U know u thick as hell u know what im sayin
Matter fact
After the club u know what im talkin bout
Me and my niggas gone be together u know what im sayin
I aint gon worry bout them really though
Im just lookin at u
Yea u know
U got them big ass hips god damn!

[Verse 1]
Got the body of a goddess
Got eyes butter pecan brown I see you girl
Droppin Low
She Comin Down from the ceiling
To tha floo
Yea She Know what she doin
Yea yea yea
She doin that right thang
Yea yea yea yea ea
I Need to get her over to my crib and do that night thang
Cause I'm N Luv wit a stripper

[Chorus x2]
She poppin she rollin she rollin
She climbin that pole and
Im N Luv with a stripper
She trippin she playin she playin
Im not goin nowhere girl im stayin
Im N Luv with a stripper

[Verse 2]
Out of all the girls she be the hottest
Like n the way she break it down I see u girl
Spinnin wide
And She lookin at me
Right in my eyes
Yea She got my attention
yea yea yea
Did I forget to mention
I Need to get her over to my crib and do that night thang
Cause Im N Luv Wit a Stripper

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3]
She can pop it she can lock it
Teddy Pendegrass down I'm bout to see this sexy girl
In My bed
She don't know what she is doin
To my head
Yea She turnin tricks on me
Yea Yea Yea
She dont even know me
Yea yea yea ea
I'd have got her over to my crib to do that night thing
Cause I'm N Luv Wit a Stripper

I didn't think it was possible to top "My Humps" (By the Black Eyed Peas, may they burn in perpetuity), but I'm pretty sure this song is worse. It's hard to convey how truly terrible it is here, but it may help to mention that it was sung in that overwrought R&B style often favored by Usher and his ilk.

I'm going to buy myself a motorcycle and become one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Terrible Song Lyrics. Definitely trumps Grievous Bodily Harm.