Month: August 2011

You don’t realize what I do each day

Summer vacation is coming to an end today. To go out with a bang, I’m going to watch the full 4th hour of the Today show and blog as I watch.   I understand there will be something about arm toning. It’s the kind of tone one’s arm gets from lifting multiple glasses of alcohol. I imagine there will be drinking on “Wino Wednesday.” I imagine I will not make it the full hour.

4th interminable hour

Here we go!

Winesday Wednesday – I was close. Today was the county fair at Today and it just looks like the saddest crap fair. My high school Oklahoma set looked more professional. Hoda and Kathie Lee and other Today people are on the plaza rolling giant bales of hay. It’s funny because this is what we commoners do at our common county fairs. Hoda and Kathie Lee win. “You don’t realize what we do each day,” says Kathie. That is true.

Hoda tells us that women don’t like to take compliments. Hoda herself hates people who say “thank you” after receiving compliments. You should say “f*** off” instead (I’m paraphrasing).

Hoda and Kathie Lee made news yesterday on the Huffington Post according to them. We go to a video from yesterday’s show where they are beatboxing. No mention of how this is news, and I’m left feeling perplexed and wanting to break dance.

They show a Prince Harry dancing video. He dives into pool that’s in a club.

This show makes me feel like I have ADD.

Up next: Photobombing. “Is this new?” Hoda asks. Phyllis Diller story from Kathie so I guess no. Photobomb is finally defined as poking your head into a picture, and the Biebs did it to Russell Brand and a crazy person.

We learn that Meg Farris(?) is with us and Bill Graham’s great-grandson and his mother/grandmother (she is not identified) who looks angry. Kathie Lee loves her some Billy Graham. She took him up to the guest suite and he asked for a Big Mac. We never know why these people are in the studio. It’s a great cliffhanger because they are never mentioned again.

Breaking news: Victoria Beckham photographed in flats. Kathie bombs a Photobomb joke (do you see what I did there? I don’t know either). Hoda likes heels.

New words are in the dictionary: social media, tweet, bromance, cougar, crowdsourcing, helicopter parents, boomerang child, fistbump, boink. Language is dead.

They wrap these things around their heads. The things look like door draft guards.

Back to compliment problems. Kathie Lee and Hoda are getting to the bottom of this with the help of a blogger and an author. I missed their names so I will call them Blogger and Author. Blogger says something. Kathie compliments Blogger’s cleavage. Now Blogger’s talking about how someone said she had great legs. “We all have that inner body bully,” says Author. “We don’t want people to think that we think we’re all that.” Hoda says she likes people who don’t think so much of themselves. Here is my compliment for this segment: It couldn’t possibly suck anymore than it already does.

What the what? segment -  Pictures of “funny” things. There’s a sheep. Bwha-ha-ha-ha!!

Who knew? trivia “game” – Labor Day game with many questions that don’t focus on Labor Day. I’ve lost knowledge from this game.

How to transition your make up routine from summer to fall segment – This is something people are concerned about? The make up artist says “Hi lovers.” She seems drunk. She unironically uses the word “fierce.” Here’s what I learned: Bronzer is your friend.

Wine, wine, wine!!! Finally the drinking. They drink and eat and eat and drink. People talk while Kathie Lee and Hoda pour wine down their gullets. Another “nice cleavage” compliment from Kathie Lee. The woman says “thank you” and Hoda doesn’t criticize her. Progress.

Getting fit segment – arm toning. Shake weights! No, no shake weights. Yoga poses.

The end.

Going back to work no longer seems so dismal.

Strategy Breath™

If you hadn’t realized, episode 3 of Bachelor Pad ended with a “cliffhanger.”

I hadn’t realized. 

We open at the end of the last episode with the rose ceremony. The host says if you don’t hear your name called, you will be leaving bachelor pad immediately. He calls Kasey’s name. I swear I’ve seen this before. Oh that’s right, the end of the last episode.

Vienna breathes a sigh of relief and forces a hug onto Holly. Jake gives a speech:

“A bachelor pad divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this bachelor pad cannot endure permanently half Power Couple™, half non-Power Couple™. I do not expect the bachelor pad to be dissolved. It will become all one thing or all the other.” Or something along those lines and then he’s in the limo.

Kasey does some kind of gang symbol, says something incomprehensible “Shizzle shuz. The devil is gone. Shuz shizzle just euphoric sensations all over my body. Shushshuch niz. You’re a jackass. Later bro, like kid rocks, dude. I’m the strongest player. I’m the strongest competitor. I’m the stronger strategist.” He mispronounces that last word, but that is his strategy, bro. Okay, like kid rocks shushizzle. >gang sign<

Moving on. The next competition was the “most talked about” and “most popular” last season of Bachelor Pad, according to the host and I will have to take him at his word.

It’s the 2nd annual Kissing Contest!! Everyone looks miserable as if they heard Kasey was about to give them a promise ring along with a serenade.

“I know it’s early. I hope you all brushed,” the host says. This will become important later.

Michelle has made the decision not to do it because she wants to set a good example for her 6-year-old daughter. Um….hmm….okay. Can I just bring up one little thing? You’re saying this while appearing as a contestant on Bachelor Pad.

most "popular" competition

Kissy face, kissy face, tonguey face, tonguey face. Blindfolds. Blake jams his tongue down everyone’s collective throat. Ella chews on some guys’ faces. Erica has self-proclaimed good lips because of injections. Kasey has bad breath. That’s his strategy breath. And Blake and Ella are the winners.

Blake and Ella get to chose one person for a “romantic” one-on-one date. Ella chooses Kirk—wait, who’s that? Has he been on the show before? They go outside and find a red Ferrari parked in the driveway. This causes another guy…who is he? William? Okay… William is mad and said he would have been a manwhore if he knew it involved a Ferrari. I swear I have never seen either man before and I’ve watched 435 hours of this show.

Meanwhile Melissa is trying to wheedle a date out of Blake. They apparently have been partners since day 1. “This is epic,” Melissa says. “I don’t know how we pulled it off.” “I hate you,” Blake says.

Ella/Kirk date. It’s a really fun lighthearted time where Kirk mentions he was almost killed by mold and Ella tells how she watched her mother get murdered. There are s’mores.

Blake announces he is taking Holly on his date. Melissa is outraged. “Can you explain yourself because you gave 800 promises. You pinky-swore.” She has a point. The pinky-swear is nearly as binding as dibs. She has a meltdown in the bathroom. Bringing up the pinky-swear again, she announces “(Blake) is dead to me.” For some reason she goes looking for him to talk to him again and finds him doing something Kasey should do…brushing his teeth. He says “another 40 seconds” and we seriously wait with her and cut to commercial.

Next day: Holly/Blake date. We find a number of people in the house are unhappy about this mainly Melissa and Michael, who used to be engaged to Holly and still loves her. Blake says “Michael has called dibs on Holly.” Holy sh*t Blake, you are really playing with fire this episode. First you break a pinky-swear and now you’re not honoring dibs? The date is at a ski resort. Blake says “Our chemistry is impeccable” which is not at all an odd way of putting it. Holly says “I’ve never had so much fun in my life” and a knife is jammed into Michael’s heart. They stay overnight.

The show is playing music from The Cider House Rules while everyone talks about being confused and upset. It’s a real downer, but HOLD YOUR HORSES EVERYBODY….we’re about to find out half of the contestants on the next season of Dancing with the “Stars.” And its many “stars” I do not know. I’m not going to list them because it will require me exerting effort to find out how their names are spelled or who they even are. Excitement.

Nighttime rose ceremony. Kasey employs this strategy: He needs the money so his grandma will live (Strategy Death™). He’s a prince, that one. Melissa is slowly learning that all the men are voting for her.

But now we’re back to the rest of the DWTS cast!! And it’s….Nancy Grace…crap, now I’m actually going to want to watch this, and this show’s interminable. It would have been awesome if Casey Anthony had also been cast.

Shot of the moon and back to the rose ceremony. Dramatic music. Math. Eight people – six roses=zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

And it’s William..aw..I just feel like I got to know you…I’m kidding, I have no idea who you are. And Melissa. She cries and cries and cries.

But Kasey’s grandma lives on!

Love is patient, love is kind. . .

I’ve been thinking a lot about the sanctity of marriage. So has this guy. If you can make it past the first sentence, you will learn that God is the author of marriage.  He also wrote the Constitution and the chorus to “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” So God is clearly miffed that man is trying to rewrite His stuff by allowing gay and lesbian couples to marry.

How is marriage to survive?

Fret not, my friend. Marriage is alive and well, as I saw firsthand on last night’s episode of Bridezillas. Last night’s episode featured a sweet wallflower named Suzy who suffers from a terrible condition called Tourette’s syndrome.

Sweet, precious Suzy

"I will rip his f****** dick off."

Suzy, 19, is betrothed to her one true love Taylor. Her impending marriage is causing a wee bit of stress in the young lass’s life. She tells her mother to kindly “Leave me the f*** alone right now” and “I’ll do your make up. Two black eyes and a bloody lip” and “I’m not going to tolerate you, you old bitch.”

She tries vainly to come up with a proper seating arrangement for the reception. She wants both sets of parents to sit with the bridal couple. The only problem? Taylor’s parents have two small children.

“Kids ruin everything,” Suzy sighs. “I hate them.”

So what else can she do, but scream “I don’t give a f*** about this anymore!” and storm off. Her mother follows in the car, telling Suzy to get in. Suzy’s response is to flip her the double bird. Sugar and spice and everything nice…

There are other beautiful moments like the time Suzy tells her fiance “I hate you right now” and elbows him in the chest. There’s the time she dumps a glass of ice-cold water over the best man’s head at the rehearsal dinner. There’s the one time she addresses someone and does not use the word “F***.”

God’s hand is clearly in the vows Suzy writes for her wedding day. She makes no promises of love or devotion, but tells Taylor she will be just as awful as she is right now for the rest of her life. Masel tov!

I should mention that the show also featured another lovely bride.

Beautiful Brittany

"I am completely awful too"

She drank excessively, popped anti-anxiety medication and repeatedly instructed her fiance not to touch her. Sound advice.

There was more, but I do not have the strength to carry on.

I will let God carry on this blog post for me.

. . .

 

.

Happy Birthday to the Superior Sibling

This blog post is dedicated to my brother who turns 175 today. I like to make cracks about his age because it’s all I really have up on him, the fact that I’m younger.

My brother is smart. I mean he is really, really smart.

This is what he looks like:

The Mona Lisa

smartypants

He’s the kind of smart that people like Sarah Palin hate. She would say something like “Oh so you’re one of those gotcha elitists who like to smear blood libel in the great liberty bell of Paul Revere’s house.  Your kind is just.. um.. is just reprehendiculous.”

You know how there’s only one tenured college professor job for the thousands of people out there looking? Well my brother got that job. He first book of poetry won some big poetry award. I’m not really up on my knowledge of poetry awards, but I think it was something like the Shel Silverstein Ickle Me Tickle Me Award of Excellence. I, on the otherhand, have this published blog. My blog has 9 readers, and I know or am related to about half of them.

Like I mentioned before, I am younger–way, way younger like a little baby duckling or a Courtney Stodden–so I would inevitably get teachers who already had my brother as their student. It would go something like this:

“Oh! You’re ___’s sister! Well then I expect great things from you.” Whoa…hold on. Let’s not all get crazy here. Let’s just calm the #$@! down for a second. Can I put my pencil case in my desk, please? Can I just do that before we all lose our @$&! minds?

As the school year progressed, and their expectations dropped to the lowest pit of despair, they would occasionally reaffirm my relation to my brother. “You’re not adopted, right?”

So okay I’m not as smart as my brother. He got a 1580 on his SATs. I got a *cough* 990 the first time I took the test, but the next time, I studied my little head off. . . and I got a 990.

When I applied for college, my guidance counselor wrote a recommendation that perfectly encapsulated my experience growing up with a much smarter sibling. This was the first sentence: “As a freshman, [Speaker7] was a shy student in the shadow of her brother who was an exceptional student.” She went on to extol his brilliance and the accomplishments of my parents, “pillars of the community.” It was a nicer way of saying “[Speaker7] is pure crap. Maybe her brother or parents can do her classwork for her?”

For the record, I did actually get accepted into a college. I managed to eke out a living as a reporter covering landfills, wheat festivals and crow invasions, and now write a rarely-read blog. It hasn’t been all rainclouds (see: brother’s shadow).

So Happy Birthday brother! You don’t look a day older than 293!

The World Will End *insert date*

Okay so this hurricane is here, wreaking havoc and being a total bitch – this guy’s words not mine–and you may be wondering what you should do.

I would worry less about listening to the “meteorologists” and “public officials” and focus more on the people who are here to tell us what this storm really means. . . like radio personality Glenn Beck. Beck hasn’t always been accurate in his soothsaying in the past like when he predicted Aug. 22, 2006 was, “the day Israel’s going to be wiped off the map, leading to all out Armageddon.” Okay, so that didn’t happen. And usually when you say something like such-and-such date “is the day Israel’s going to wiped off the map, leading to all out Armageddon” and then that day passes with little fanfare, you’re likely going to look like an a-hole, and people may begin to second-guess the stuff you say. But Beck is really onto something this time.

I would get out your chalkboard to write this down. You don’t have a chalkboard!?! Go buy one. Right now! I’ll wait.

You’re back? Okay. So Beck basically said this hurricane was a “blessing from God” (I’d hate to see what it looks like when God is smiting someone). Just like with the earthquake, God is reminding us that we are not in control, which I imagine Beck needs little reminding.

Proof:

The Mona Lisa
Glenn Beck is crying. It is Saturday. 

Beck has been saying “for years” to be prepared for something like this to happen. And you’re a “dummy” if you haven’t been stocking up on guns, ammo, food and water.

Beck also has said this: “I just–I’m white. I’m human. There are a lot of environmentalists that don’t like humans, but within the humans that accept humans, I’m white. The majority of humans don’t like whites.”

Good to know. So how should you handle this impending blessing from God?

Do not, I repeat, do not go to the store to pick up food and water because you will seriously look like a “dummy” for not listening to Beck sooner. It’s better to save face. Here’s what you can do instead:

1. Trade your money in for gold coins.  Some possible places to get them? I’m just spitballing here, but try Goldline.

2. Buy a chalkboard. I’m really serious about this. I still can’t believe you haven’t gotten one yet. Oh. . .Staples won’t take gold coins? Shoot. Okay, well trade some of your gold coins in for cash to buy that chalkboard. What? You got less back then what you paid for? Not my problem.

3. Develop your own conspiracy theory about why this storm is happening. “God is reminding you you’re not in control” has already been taken. You can jump on that bandwagon, but if you want to get interviewed on TV or blogged about, try to outdo Beck. Some possible suggestions:

  • God hates the northeast because it’s filled with liberals
  • God hates the northeast because it’s filled with gays
  • God hates the northeast because it’s filled with Muslims
  • God hates the northeast because it’s filled with abortionists aborting all babies excepts ones that are liberal, gay or Muslim
  • God hates the northeast because it’s filled with illegal immigrants
  • God hates the northeast because it’s filled with liberal, gay, Muslim, abortion-loving illegal immigrants

That should do it. These tips will also work well in a variety of natural disasters, e.g. zombie apocalypse, Armageddon, Obama reelection, etc.

Reason #473 Why I’m No Longer a Reporter

I used to be a news reporter. Click this for one of my most compelling stories.

I kind of looked like this:

The Mona Lisa

When you are a reporter, you are at the whim of your editors. It’s really great. Like this one time when an editor sent me to a standoff in the middle of the night.

I was pretty thrilled when I got a call at 11 p.m. from an assistant night editor explaining that a man was in his house with a handgun and a standoff was in progress on some county road in the middle of nowhere, but that they were unable to get any information from the sheriff’s dispatch, and would I mind driving there and checking things out. It really wasn’t a request.

I got into my car and drove to the dark road, parking next to a few TV news vans. No law enforcement was in sight apart from the empty sheriff deputy cars parked in the driveway. The house was set back from the road and trees obscured its view.

I got out of the car and approached a newscaster, asking first for his autograph and then if he knew what was going on. He didn’t.

I called the newspaper back telling the assistant night editor that no one was around except for TV broadcasters who knew nothing.

“You can’t see any deputies?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Okay, hold tight. We have about a half-hour until deadline. See what you can get and call back.”

I didn’t quite know what to do so I stood in the same spot and looked at a house I couldn’t see.

The cell phone rang.

“Anything yet?”  she asked.

“Nope.”

I could hear her talking to someone in the background. She got back on the phone, sighed, and asked if I could go up to the door, knock and see what was going on.

What a fabulous idea! Why didn’t I think of that? I could just see it in my head. I’ll walk up the darkened driveway, bang on the screen door:

“Hello? Hi. Yes, you with the gun, I’m from The  . . . and we have a really tight deadline so we need to speed things up here. If I could first just get your name?”

“Could you spell that?”

“Great, um. .  so what are you feeling right now?”

“Sir, I’m having a little trouble understanding you with the sobbing. Could you say that again?”

“Oh you’re depressed. Yeah that’s not very descriptive. Could you say why you’re depressed?”

“How do you spell her name?”

“Do you have a contact number for her. I’d really like to get her side in this. Sir if you could just keep that gun pointed at your head, not at me.”

Easy, right? But for some reason my feet stayed on the road.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” I told the assistant editor.

“I didn’t think so,” she said. “Just stick tight until deadline and you can go home.”

So I did. I stood in the same spot, looking at a house I couldn’t see, waiting out the minutes. Nothing happened and I drove home.

I found out the next day, the man wasn’t even at the house.

Don’t be a gerbil in a cage

Ann Curry has a crisis. Her house is a mess although it’s unclear which of her houses she’s talking about–probably that unoccupied $2.9 million townhouse that’s been home to some squatters. Her photos aren’t even put in her photo albums!! They’re, like, stuffed in some box. Wait–people still have actual tangible photographs?

But it turns out it’s good that one of Ann’s houses are a mess because it shows she’s not trying to be a “supermom.” Today I learned from Today that some people actually think of themselves as supermoms and that these people are likely to be very depressed according to a supermom study. I personally have become depressed from just watching this Today show segment because I realized I was watching Today.

An assortment of supermom experts are interviewed (I believe it’s a major offered through the University of Phoenix). One says that if you are a mother who doesn’t mind that your husband is a lazy pile of garbage, you will feel less depression over having to do all the housework and childcare after toiling all day in the mines. I don’t see how that’s better than being a supermom, but okay.

Another supermom blogger says she embraces supermomdom. She says this via Skype because she’s trapped in her apartment with two young kids. She’s a happy mom, she says with a tight smile. Keep it together, Supermom…You are a SuperGODDESSmom. . .You can scream into your pillow when the camera’s off. . . okay make your eyes wide, but not too wide when you say “We certainly are not all depressed.”

So how did this supermomphenomenon get started?

Motivational speaker Lisa Earle Mcleod says that women visualize that their lives should look like magazine photo-ops. Hopefully not this one:

The Mona LisaWomen need to chill, says McLeod, author of the blog “How Smart People Can Get Better At Everything.” Women need to focus on purpose and not perfection and when they have a larger purpose, or special purpose if you are Navin R. Johnson, then they have a filter to focus on what’s important, according to McLeod. If you’re just focused on perfection, “you are a gerbil in a cage!” She kind of shouts that last part, but then I remember she is a “motivational” speaker.

So buck up, moms. You just have to find a larger purpose while you are working that job and raising those kids and doing that housework and finding that filter and avoiding that gerbil-in-a-cage thing. And then you can get better at everything.

This Post Will Be Unpopular

People seem to really like Twilight.

Like this person:


There are teams, I guess part of the vampire baseball league, that people sign up for, there are Twilight conventions, there is this:

The Mona Lisa

I am adding my own contribution to the the Twilibrary; a condensed Cliff Notes of all four books that I wrote after reading them in 2008. It’s a bit incomplete because I stopped summarizing about 334 pages into the third book.  Before you read it, I should say that I’m really not a fan of the books. Here’s the thing though, buddy. This is America. Love it or leave it pal or what I mean, is America is full of melting pots and salads bowls of differing opinions.  And if someone doesn’t agree with you then you call them a Communist or liberal pukeball or Volturi-lover (I’m imagining that is an insult).

Book 1: Twilight

Hi I’m Bella. I moved to Forks, WA, because my mom is obsessed with her new minor league hubby and since I’m so mature (a characteristic that will continue to be refuted by the next 2,500 pages of my insipid thoughts), I decided to hightail to my dad’s house. I’m clumsy and plain. Every boy in Forks loves me. Oh look there’s a hot guy with topaz eyes and really really white skin. His name is Edward and he has three equally pale-looking siblings. He’s hot, hot, hot!  Whoa, he like totally hates me, wtf? Oh now he saves me from being hit by a van. How did he move so fast? Oh, he’s a vampire. Who’s hot. He loves me because my blood is the sweetest blood he’s ever smelled (um yuck? I mean *sigh*) Oh here comes a plot…kind of…(on page 856) vampire baseball game..these other outta town vamps want to play, and one named James smells me and now must spend his life tracking me down. I flee with Edward’s “brother” Jasper and “sister” Alice, but then James calls and says he has my mom, so I leave defenseless because hmm. . . And now I’m being beaten to death and bitten, but Edward shows up at the last minute and sucks the vampire venom from my hand. We go to the prom. I want to be a vampire. That is my entire thought process on it well except for thoughts that I hope I’m pretty. Did I mention Edward was hot?

Book 2: New Moon

Edward, who is really, really good-looking,  is leaving me because Jasper wanted to kill me when I got a paper cut. This seems plausible. I become nothing.  I do some awesome things like ride a motorcycle, walk in dangerous neighborhoods where I’m almost gang-raped, and cliff dive because I can hallucinate Edward’s voice telling me to cut this shit out. This is the greatest love story ever with the exception of Sid and Nancy and OJ and Nicole. Oh and then I lob onto this friend of the family named Jacob who turns out to be a werewolf and he’s totally in love with me, because who isn’t? Did I mention I’m plain and clumsy. Werewolves hate vampires and there’s a treaty and zzzzzzzzzzz….  I cliff dive alone and then as I’m drowning, I see Edward and decide this is an awesome time to die, but then Jacob rescues me because otherwise the series would end. Alice can see into the future, but can’t see werewolves because necessary plot point and then she comes to Forks to comfort my dad. She finds out the Edward thinks I’m dead so he’s going to Italy to meet up with the royal vampire family the Volturi to request his death..and zzzzzzzzzzz……Vampires sparkle (seriously?) in the sunlight so he’s gonna step out into the public square at noon and force the Volturi to kill him. I save him and blah blah and now the Volturi want me to be vampire because I know too much…and Edward loves me so now I can live again because remember girls: You are nothing without a man even if his body is at room temperature and he does drink blood.  Yea for me!

Book 3: Eclipse

Edward’s hot, hot, hot. I’m plain. I want to be a vampire!!! Ed said he’d turn me only if I marry him first. OMG!!! I can’t marry him..that’s totally f***ed up, but what isn’t is the idea of ending my human life and spending eternity with him, that’s an easy decision like paper or plastic. Jacob wants me bad!!! But Edward wants to keep me from him so he removes my car battery and has Alice hold me hostage when he’s out hunting animals, and no one anywhere thinks that’s insane. Feminism is vanquished. I want to be a vampire!!! Uh-oh, a newborn vamp is killing people in Seattle. I totally want Edward’s marbled body. . .oh Jacob kisses me! What will I look like when I’m a vampire….

(editor’s note: the rest of this may or may not have happened)

I looked up into the grayish sky. The color reminded me of marble, which then made me think of Edward’s marbled arms holding and cradling me like a baby. He does that sometime because we have this weird father-daughter, abusive boyfriend-humiliated girlfriend kind of relationship. I was knocked out of my reverie by a shining white light in the sky.

“Edward, what’s that?” I asked him, marveling at his beautiful mouth and eyes and hair and ears and nose and teeth and eyelashes. I then tripped over a peddle and Edward caught me in his cold, marbled arms.

“I’m not sure. I like how you smell,” he said.

Just then Alice and the rest of the family came running into the clearing.

“It’s a nuclear bomb!” Alice screamed.

There was a terrible explosion and everyone died.

Book 4: Breaking dawn

……. (go watch Buffy)

Every Episode has its stink

Episode 3 of Bachelor Pad aired last night. I tried vainly to watch it, but only made it to the first three minutes. All big on the 42-inch screen and in HD made it feel incredibly likely I would catch crabs. So I watched it on my little computer today.

It begins with an establishing shot of the moon. People say things like “That was amazing.” “That was unreal.” “The game changes so fast, it’s crazy.” I don’t know what they’re talking about.

Pan to argument in the kitchen, which is “amazing.” The guy part of the couple looks like two other guys in the house. The woman is upset because he didn’t check on her in her room while she was crying. She gives a very specific time frame for it – 4 p.m.-11:30 p.m. That’s a lengthy time to be crying. Many doctors say you should only let a baby cry it out for an hour.

Challenge – synchronized swimming. Boys vs girls, one of each wins a rose. Lots of “I need to win this,” “He can’t win this,” “I’m going to win this because I was a cheerleader.” “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.” This goes on for seven days. They actually get some poor gold medalist to judge it and two random people who won Bachelor Pad I, which, I believe, garners one the bronze medal or complete obscurity. Two winners are chosen, they will go on a date with three other people.

Vienna and Kasey, the self-proclaimed Bachelor Pad power couple, proceed to have some powerful fights. Kasey is miffed that Vienna said “good job” to her former fiance Jake. Vienna brings up how Kasey is supposed to protect her. She says this a lot like she’s constantly being ambushed by ninjas. Kasey says something like “I protected you over BLEEP, nice and smelled to him. You shushree shizz schuzzle.” His voice makes me feel like I need a hearing test. This fight drags on for infinity, and even the cameraman becomes fatigued because he pans to a sharpie marker on the counter for a really long time. That is a really nice sharpie.

Boring date in vineyard. The word “connection” is used for the first time. Some making out with visible tongue…shudder.

Boring date on horseback, but then a bandana-ensconced Bret Michaels pulls up in a tour bus to give the saddest concert ever. He conducts an impromptu therapy session with Michael and Holly. He says “There’s a fork in the road” and the cameraman pans down to his crotch “and that’s the fork in the road where eventually you’ve got to say the heart wants what the heart wants.” Exactly. He then sings “Unskinny Bop” — I’m just kidding. He sings “Every Rose Has its Thorn” and do you see what the producers just did right there? Yeah, I don’t either.

I think time moves differently in Bachelor Pad because the timer tells me I’m only  8 minutes into part II and I’ve been sitting here for 10 days. Okay, where are we? Back to Power Couple™ Vienna and Kasey. Kasey says something about Vienna’s heart hurt causes his heart to hurt and “shushes shizzz shuzle shinzz.” Vienna looks like she smells something really awful. He produces a jewelry box, and Vienna causes heart hurt by saying “I don’t want it to be an engagement ring.” Hurted-heart Kasey is taken aback, but carries  on valiantly with a serenade that sounds like Rick Astley being smothered by a pillow.

Alliances are getting broken, new alliances are forming, conspiring, conspiring, drinking, people are being called “batshit crazy,” voting, spying in hot tubs, more drinking, crying, more conspiring, even more drinking, one of the contestants holds a prop from a Harry Potter movie and says “order has been restored,” drinky drinking, photos are dropped in a ballot box. It’s down to Jake vs. Kasey. Vienna says “I’m terrified of Jake.” This from the woman who just was serenaded by Kasey.

Jake interviews “If I’m leaving tonight, I’m going to take some people with me.” Okay, maybe Vienna’s on to something.

So who’s going home? Shot of Jake’s face, shot of Kasey’s face, shot of Jake’s face, shot of Kasey’s face, shot of Jake’s face, shot of Kasey’s face, shot of Jake’s face, shot of Kasey’s face, ad infinitum.

And it’s Jake. The screen goes black.

Do you see what the producers did right there? Yeah, I don’t either.

The Great NYS Fair

An apology to our readers: the following blog entry was inadvertently published whilst still in draft form therefore the post made as much sense as a grown woman covering a tween goat-herder for a news story. Here is the post in all its glorious entirety.

The main reason I agreed to have a baby was to have an excuse to never go anywhere again. But something happens when you have a child. You see nothing strange about keeping a log of your infant’s bowel movements. You use the word “poopy” a lot. You attend functions willingly that you normally wished you had a good excuse, like having a baby at home, to avoid attending. So I’m bringing my son to the NYS Fair.

I hate the fair.

I have only been a few times and the occasions have always been unpleasant.

Once I followed a 13-year-old goat herder around for a riveting news story about spending 14 hours with a 13-year-old goat herder (spoiler: lots of sitting in lawn chairs and looking at goats). I was a correspondent for the local newspaper so I was being paid for the article not my time–14 hours for $25, or $0.56 an hour. After about 20 minutes, you run out of questions to ask (so…why goat-herding?) and it’s mainly sitting around being uncomfortable, a situation made even worse by the powerful aroma of goat shit.

Another time, I paid $2 to see the “world’s littlest woman.” Having just left the Ripley’s Believe it or Not Tent, I thought I would see a Barbie Doll in a fish bowl–the Ripley’s tent was full of fakety fake fakery, but I chose to believe it rather than not, man–so I was horrified to come into the tent, and see an actual person sitting in a toddler-sized armchair, watching a mini-television and eating dinner. She was propped up on a table to be at eye-level. She looked wearily at me and said “hello.” I know I had a horrified look on my face because I just paid $2 to gawk at another human being who happens to be a little short. Instead of saying “I am a horrible, horrible person,” I mumbled “hi” and got the hell out of there.

Now for some completely illogical reason, I’m all pepped to go and expose my son to the urine-and-fecal-soaked barns and midway, the freak shows run by the worst people alive and the crown jewel–the butter sculpture, which I hope is just a giant stick of butter.

I am a horrible, horrible person.