Okay, y'all. I am mad. Lobster-faced rage monkey McFurious. We all know about a certain singer who was beaten senseless by her singer boyfriend, right? If the tabloids are to be believed, she took him back. Which makes her stupid. But what makes the blood shoot from my eyeballs?
A study of 500 teenagers found that 46% of them thought she brought it on. Provoked it in some way. In short, it's her fault that she walked into his fist.
Any guesses how many teens would think it's his fault if he walked into her knife?
I took a seminar on domestic violence, and several of the abused wives said that the abuse was cyclical- there was a gradual build-up of stress until an abusive episode occured that ironically relieved the tension. A number of the women admitted to provoking their abusive husbands when the stress was high, so that they could have some measure of control over when he blew. Knowing it was coming but not knowing when was almost worse than the actual abuse, so they pushed buttons they knew would burst the bubble.
I understand that. But even in these instances, IT WAS NOT THEIR FAULT. Good God, have we not moved past this by now? The discussion isn't even about why the abused stay with their tormentors- people, KIDS, still think it's somehow her fault that he's a coward and a bully?
Well if no one ever told you, I will. IT IS NOT HER FAULT. IT IS NEVER HER FAULT. I don't care if she is the biggest shrew alive with a voice that shatters glass. I don't care if she shoves her tongue down other men's throats. I don't care if she wrecks your car, ruins your credit, and lets your dog run away. Call the police, call her boss, call her a b*tch with a loudspeaker, but you are not justified to hit her. Never, ever, ever.
It's easy to blame the hip-hop culture, I suppose. Lyrics and lifestyles that promotes violence and objectifies women as B's and Ho's is bound to have an effect on the teen mind. But women get abused by rednecks, too. And gumbas. And just about every other segment of society. I just can't believe the generation with access to the most information than any other generation before them still has the nerve to think she deserved it.
Well she didn't. No one, man or woman, deserves to be afraid of their spouse. PERIOD. Chris Brown? He deserves to walk into a cast-iron skillet.
About ten times.
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Monday, March 16, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Things I Don't Understand
Wearing a dress that makes everyone want to sing the Oompa Loompa song while chewing gum
The appeal of the Jonas Brothers
The fact that Angelina grabs Brad's bohunkus in public actually makes me feel better about her
The appeal of the Jonas Brothers
Cloven-hoof boots
How Mark Harmon can still be so blasted cute
The appeal of the Jonas Brothers
But I especially don't understand how a woman could do this to herself ON PURPOSE and then ask us to pay for it via VISA, MasterCard, American Express, Discover, and PayPal.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
How Far Should I Go For A One-Finger Neighbor?
Perhaps I should explain the term. My dad maintains that there are levels of neighbors; when driving down your street, people may be out watering plants or washing cars or yelling at kids who have just knocked over the mailbox with their bikes, right? With your hands at the 2 and 10 o'clock positions, you can acknowledge the people you don't know that well with your pointer finger upraised. The ones whose names you know, whom you may have spoken with during a blackout or while the men are in the street looking up at the sky and discussing it when the tornado sirens are going off, deserve a two-finger wave. The neighbors that have actually been in your house for a football game and reciprocated with a barbeque get the whole hand.
Well, I have some One-Finger neighbors that have the most obnoxious dogs on the face of the earth. Seriously, I'd rather deal with the turkey-stealing Bumpus hounds from A Christmas Story. One is a Heinz 57 mix of Akita, Chow, and Satan; the other is a Napoleonic Dachsund. We have leash laws in our town, which are obeyed about as frequently as you think they are, and these dogs Own. The. Street.
When they are let out for a potty break (there's no fences in the back yards) the owners just stand there on the porch and hope for the best. If you happen to be out, the Dachsund will zero in on you like a tiny black yapping missile. He'll completely ignore the shouts of his people and run at you full speed until he reaches your leg, whereupon he quivers and growls. It's like facing a small junkie on a bad trip.
The other one is slower and not as loud, but he will stand about five feet away and stare at you. I kid you not, he'll just stare at you. Spookiest thing I've ever seen. The owners are pretty good about coming right over to take the dogs home, but just once I'd like to go out and get my mail without spying the land for hostiles first.
My little diva can be annoying; she hates big dogs, cats, and squirrels and she'll be all Barky McYipperson if the wind blows hard. But when I take her out I have her on a leash, a plastic baggie for her mess, and I don't let her bark very long. If she does manage to intrude on someone's rose bush, I apologise and try not to go past that yard again. But these One-Fingers? "I'll be right there. You better not move."
No. You'd better get a chain. If that Black Terror hallucinates that my leg is a big Milk Bone, or if your spook sacrifices a chicken on my front porch, I'll feel free to give you a different kind of one finger salute.
Well, I have some One-Finger neighbors that have the most obnoxious dogs on the face of the earth. Seriously, I'd rather deal with the turkey-stealing Bumpus hounds from A Christmas Story. One is a Heinz 57 mix of Akita, Chow, and Satan; the other is a Napoleonic Dachsund. We have leash laws in our town, which are obeyed about as frequently as you think they are, and these dogs Own. The. Street.
When they are let out for a potty break (there's no fences in the back yards) the owners just stand there on the porch and hope for the best. If you happen to be out, the Dachsund will zero in on you like a tiny black yapping missile. He'll completely ignore the shouts of his people and run at you full speed until he reaches your leg, whereupon he quivers and growls. It's like facing a small junkie on a bad trip.
The other one is slower and not as loud, but he will stand about five feet away and stare at you. I kid you not, he'll just stare at you. Spookiest thing I've ever seen. The owners are pretty good about coming right over to take the dogs home, but just once I'd like to go out and get my mail without spying the land for hostiles first.
My little diva can be annoying; she hates big dogs, cats, and squirrels and she'll be all Barky McYipperson if the wind blows hard. But when I take her out I have her on a leash, a plastic baggie for her mess, and I don't let her bark very long. If she does manage to intrude on someone's rose bush, I apologise and try not to go past that yard again. But these One-Fingers? "I'll be right there. You better not move."
No. You'd better get a chain. If that Black Terror hallucinates that my leg is a big Milk Bone, or if your spook sacrifices a chicken on my front porch, I'll feel free to give you a different kind of one finger salute.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Happy Whatever
And I truly mean that. This should be a season for celebrating, no matter what the faith or reason. This should be a time for sharing all that is good about our particular celebration, and even commiserating over the stresses. I read once of Christians who lived in the same community as their Jewish neighbors, and on the Sabbath the Christians would bring food to their friends because the Jews did no work on that day. That's the kind of world I want to live in.
I've heard news reports that say shopping is way down this year, which I guess is bad for the retailers. I can't help but think maybe it's a good thing for our souls, though. Not having the underside of the tree crammed with presents lets you focus a little more on the important stuff.
Charitable giving, though, has only dipped slightly. And the bell ringers have had diamond rings, watches, and extremely valuable old coins dropped in their kettles. Maybe we're not as bad as everyone says we are.
So whether it's Kwanzaa or Chanukah or Solstice or just enjoying the baked goodies around the fire- I mean, we need a few extra pounds to keep us warm over the coming winter- enjoy your family and your friends. I'll be offline till New Year's, so now I wish all of you a most blessed, Merry Christmas.
I've heard news reports that say shopping is way down this year, which I guess is bad for the retailers. I can't help but think maybe it's a good thing for our souls, though. Not having the underside of the tree crammed with presents lets you focus a little more on the important stuff.
Charitable giving, though, has only dipped slightly. And the bell ringers have had diamond rings, watches, and extremely valuable old coins dropped in their kettles. Maybe we're not as bad as everyone says we are.
So whether it's Kwanzaa or Chanukah or Solstice or just enjoying the baked goodies around the fire- I mean, we need a few extra pounds to keep us warm over the coming winter- enjoy your family and your friends. I'll be offline till New Year's, so now I wish all of you a most blessed, Merry Christmas.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Darn You, Global Warming!
I know, Kate, I know. It's so hard to find an outfit when your top half is cold and your feet are freezing, but you just don't want your legs to get too hot. I feel your pain.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Things I Sometimes Wonder
If someone knocked a vampire's teeth out, how would he eat?
If I'm 44 and very, very sure I don't want any more kids, why is there no switch to throw to jump-start menopause?
When a car pulled up next to me blasting loud enough to be heard in the next county, I couldn't help but notice the lyrics. It was someone screaming the alphabet. Yes, the literal alphabet. A-A-A-a-a-a, B-B-B-b-b-b, C-C-C-c-c-c, it throbbed. Does this mean we're in store for a new kids' educational show called Sesame Hood?
Would Cookie Monster push chocolate chips in front of Hooper's Store?
Will Christmas toy shelves be full of Pimp Me Elmo?
Why do I always buy two bags of candy "just in case" when I haven't had a trick-or-treater for 3 years?
Never mind, I know the answer to that one. Go about your business.
If I'm 44 and very, very sure I don't want any more kids, why is there no switch to throw to jump-start menopause?
When a car pulled up next to me blasting loud enough to be heard in the next county, I couldn't help but notice the lyrics. It was someone screaming the alphabet. Yes, the literal alphabet. A-A-A-a-a-a, B-B-B-b-b-b, C-C-C-c-c-c, it throbbed. Does this mean we're in store for a new kids' educational show called Sesame Hood?
Would Cookie Monster push chocolate chips in front of Hooper's Store?
Will Christmas toy shelves be full of Pimp Me Elmo?
Why do I always buy two bags of candy "just in case" when I haven't had a trick-or-treater for 3 years?
Never mind, I know the answer to that one. Go about your business.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Starship Troopers
I love a good space opera. From Star Trek to Serenity, I've always loved reading, and watching, stories set in the stars. Even though there will be butt-ugly aliens, political intrigue, daring escapes and swoony romance, these stories always seem to be about one thing: the human condition.
Things in space don't seem to be that different from things here on Earth, except that Earthlings are universally reviled. We're weak, young, arrogant, carbon-based bags of water that are far beneath the notice of superior species- but those species wrestle with the same things we do.
One thing I always appreciated about Star Trek: it was hopeful. We didn't push the button; we didn't drop the bomb. And I personally love the fact that network honchos were worried about the original Trek's diversity, but the public didn't march in protest as was feared. We all loved the crew, even the Russian. I hate that female writers like Dorothy Fontana had to use her initials, D.C., to get scripts to air, but at least she still got to write.
And of course, there are plenty of stories that have nothing whatsoever to do with Earth- but they still have our challenges. Vonda McIntire is a personal fave of mine; who do you like to read (or watch) when you feel planet-bound?
Things in space don't seem to be that different from things here on Earth, except that Earthlings are universally reviled. We're weak, young, arrogant, carbon-based bags of water that are far beneath the notice of superior species- but those species wrestle with the same things we do.
One thing I always appreciated about Star Trek: it was hopeful. We didn't push the button; we didn't drop the bomb. And I personally love the fact that network honchos were worried about the original Trek's diversity, but the public didn't march in protest as was feared. We all loved the crew, even the Russian. I hate that female writers like Dorothy Fontana had to use her initials, D.C., to get scripts to air, but at least she still got to write.
And of course, there are plenty of stories that have nothing whatsoever to do with Earth- but they still have our challenges. Vonda McIntire is a personal fave of mine; who do you like to read (or watch) when you feel planet-bound?
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Why I Love December Quinn
She wrote this awesome post, which led to me writing, and deleting, a huge comment. Rather than bleat all over her blog, I thought I’d write my own post.
December mentioned actors- actors who stump for candidates, specifically- and expect us to believe they somehow know more about the issues than the little people in flyover country. I got news for them. They don’t know anymore than anyone else. They just have a whole lot more money, which makes my blood boil when they pontificate about the needs of the poor. Come juggle my finances for awhile, Master Thespian. What gets me is how pissy some of them get when they are challenged. Why, don’t you know who I am? I am creative and talented and feel deeply about the deep things of the world. I’ve talked to actual scientists and been filmed while I felt my deep feelings in some third-world sinkhole. Celebrate me!
But even though I’d love to tell them to shut it, they are American citizens. (And I’m not talking about celebrities who are European, or live full time in Europe because it’s so much more civilized. Honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass what Europeans think of us.) Except for Wesley Snipes, they pay their taxes. They have the right to hold, and express, any opinion they please.
I remember Tim Robbins protesting the Iraq war, which he has a right to do. When people starting telling him they would no longer see any of his movies because of his views, he said there was a “cold wind blowing across the country” and the First Amendment was in jeopardy. Excuse me, Tim, but no it isn’t.
The First Amendment refers to freedom from the government censoring speech. His kids weren’t taken away. He wasn’t forced from his home. He can not only work in Hollywood, but he’s rather celebrated there. Even though I think the last movie he did was Zathura a few years ago. He can take out a front page ad in the Times telling his views; that is his right.
But it’s my right to think he’s a self-important gasbag. And if he creeps me out enough with his various political stances, or if not the opinion itself, how he expresses it, I also have the right to stay away from the theatre. I am not censoring him. The First Amendment guarantees freedom of speech, not freedom from every possible consequence.
What I think celebrities don’t realize is that their views aren’t necessarily what grate; it’s the I Know More Than You, You Pathetic Mouth Breathing Knuckle Dragger attitude. From what I’ve seen this election season, it’s not limited to TV’s talking heads. Which I guess only proves the point that actors do have influence.
December mentioned actors- actors who stump for candidates, specifically- and expect us to believe they somehow know more about the issues than the little people in flyover country. I got news for them. They don’t know anymore than anyone else. They just have a whole lot more money, which makes my blood boil when they pontificate about the needs of the poor. Come juggle my finances for awhile, Master Thespian. What gets me is how pissy some of them get when they are challenged. Why, don’t you know who I am? I am creative and talented and feel deeply about the deep things of the world. I’ve talked to actual scientists and been filmed while I felt my deep feelings in some third-world sinkhole. Celebrate me!
But even though I’d love to tell them to shut it, they are American citizens. (And I’m not talking about celebrities who are European, or live full time in Europe because it’s so much more civilized. Honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass what Europeans think of us.) Except for Wesley Snipes, they pay their taxes. They have the right to hold, and express, any opinion they please.
I remember Tim Robbins protesting the Iraq war, which he has a right to do. When people starting telling him they would no longer see any of his movies because of his views, he said there was a “cold wind blowing across the country” and the First Amendment was in jeopardy. Excuse me, Tim, but no it isn’t.
The First Amendment refers to freedom from the government censoring speech. His kids weren’t taken away. He wasn’t forced from his home. He can not only work in Hollywood, but he’s rather celebrated there. Even though I think the last movie he did was Zathura a few years ago. He can take out a front page ad in the Times telling his views; that is his right.
But it’s my right to think he’s a self-important gasbag. And if he creeps me out enough with his various political stances, or if not the opinion itself, how he expresses it, I also have the right to stay away from the theatre. I am not censoring him. The First Amendment guarantees freedom of speech, not freedom from every possible consequence.
What I think celebrities don’t realize is that their views aren’t necessarily what grate; it’s the I Know More Than You, You Pathetic Mouth Breathing Knuckle Dragger attitude. From what I’ve seen this election season, it’s not limited to TV’s talking heads. Which I guess only proves the point that actors do have influence.
Friday, October 3, 2008
What Do Horses Think?
"HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. Somebody pinch me. Scratch that, somebody slap me. Get me out of this nightmare! She's dressed me in bright pink. And silver. And- are those garters she's put on my hooves? Lady, not even Barbie rides horses in heels. She has tiny boots like any sane pers- oh, no. Please no. She's not going to try to ride me, is she? Even sidesaddle, in that skirt she'll wind up sticking to the saddle. Look, one of you humane people out there- do a poor beast a favor. Just shoot me."
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Don’t Try To Breathe My Rare Special Air
I got this letter the other day, from an earnest young woman named Katie. She said, “…we have just taken a closer look at your profile. It turns out you’re more special than any of us imagined!” I could have told her that.
She went on to plead with me to keep this all a secret, but you’re my special friends. I’m sure it will be all right. “There has existed for many years an exclusive association, a secret society, of some of the world’s most famous and powerful people. These include renowned actors and musicians, leading scientists and intellectuals, self-made entrepreneurs and artists, even some of the rare genuine astrologers and psychics.” Of course. Because those people HATE attention from the press.
This association has uncovered shockingly powerful secrets; that lead to prosperity, love, happiness, and total peace of mind. Secrets which they share only amongst themselves, and- what do you know? They analyzed my profile! Katie tells me that my hidden talents must be phenomenal for the members to select me!
I have been chosen to receive their book, Greatest Kept Secrets, absolutely free. How wonderful of them. And what happened for Katie can happen for me- she won when she gambled; she knew what other people were thinking; she started an incredibly successful business; she gained a photographic memory; and eliminated all addictions and bad habits.
Now, everyone wants to be her friend. She is the center of attention. But the best part? She is wanted by all men, including her husband. She, of course, has eyes only for him. She can play the piano and paint with no training, too! She can predict the future AND heal people. Goodness, but she must be busy. And I can certainly see why you’d want to keep healing disease to yourself.
When analyzing my profile, they discovered something else- I’m about to enter Cycle Two. That’s why the association is contacting me now. It’s all very exciting, but I’m afraid I shall have to pass. Why did they use the mail when they could have just contacted me telepathically? Sad waste of funds, that. Sorry, but I have standards, people.
She went on to plead with me to keep this all a secret, but you’re my special friends. I’m sure it will be all right. “There has existed for many years an exclusive association, a secret society, of some of the world’s most famous and powerful people. These include renowned actors and musicians, leading scientists and intellectuals, self-made entrepreneurs and artists, even some of the rare genuine astrologers and psychics.” Of course. Because those people HATE attention from the press.
This association has uncovered shockingly powerful secrets; that lead to prosperity, love, happiness, and total peace of mind. Secrets which they share only amongst themselves, and- what do you know? They analyzed my profile! Katie tells me that my hidden talents must be phenomenal for the members to select me!
I have been chosen to receive their book, Greatest Kept Secrets, absolutely free. How wonderful of them. And what happened for Katie can happen for me- she won when she gambled; she knew what other people were thinking; she started an incredibly successful business; she gained a photographic memory; and eliminated all addictions and bad habits.
Now, everyone wants to be her friend. She is the center of attention. But the best part? She is wanted by all men, including her husband. She, of course, has eyes only for him. She can play the piano and paint with no training, too! She can predict the future AND heal people. Goodness, but she must be busy. And I can certainly see why you’d want to keep healing disease to yourself.
When analyzing my profile, they discovered something else- I’m about to enter Cycle Two. That’s why the association is contacting me now. It’s all very exciting, but I’m afraid I shall have to pass. Why did they use the mail when they could have just contacted me telepathically? Sad waste of funds, that. Sorry, but I have standards, people.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
There's Something A Little Freaky Here
I just don't understand politics these days. Even with four-star scandals, romantic peccadilloes, and late night comic routines there used to be a certain respect for the presidency. Now?
Sarah Palin Action Figure!
John McCain Plushie!
Half Naked Soap Opera Stars in Obama Underwear!
I will admit that I kind of want the Sarah Palin action figure. But honestly, why all the debates and concerns over experience and foreign policy and Presidential Form when we the people think this is the way to put forward a candidate for the highest office in the land?
And is that actress on the right holding basketballs? Just asking.
Sarah Palin Action Figure!
John McCain Plushie!
Half Naked Soap Opera Stars in Obama Underwear!
I will admit that I kind of want the Sarah Palin action figure. But honestly, why all the debates and concerns over experience and foreign policy and Presidential Form when we the people think this is the way to put forward a candidate for the highest office in the land?
And is that actress on the right holding basketballs? Just asking.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
It's That Time Again!
There's not much time until the frenzy of Christmas shopping begins, so I thought I'd get a jump on it from my favorite gift extravaganza, The Harriet Carter Catalog.
A laser alarm clock, how fun! And practical. The alarm won't shut off until you hit the bullseye. Since most people can't even see until a shower and a cup of coffee, you're sure to be familiar with your neighbors when they come a knockin'!
A laser alarm clock, how fun! And practical. The alarm won't shut off until you hit the bullseye. Since most people can't even see until a shower and a cup of coffee, you're sure to be familiar with your neighbors when they come a knockin'!
Of course, Christmastime can also mean colds and flu. This clever and attractive tissue box makes sneezes and wheezes galore when dispensing your Kleenex! You'll be so comforted in your illness when mocked by fake respiratory distress.
Don't forget the holiday parties! The Season of Love and Giving will shine when your guests can help themselves to hors d'oerves by removing a spike impaled in a tiny body.
With all these bargains, you're sure to have a little change leftover for yourself. When you put your money in this fanny pack, it lets you know the deposit has been made by a cacophony of toots! There's just no better way to say, "I'm worth it!"
Only 100 shopping days left!
Sunday, August 10, 2008
If This Is Hollywood's Idea Of Hot I Need To Poke A Stick In My Eyes
So I decided to find out what the fuss is with the Twilight books by Stephenie Meyer. I'm about halfway through the first one and...I don't get it. Seriously, I don't get it.
Granted, I am not exactly in the target audience. Teen angst ceased to thrill me about ten years ago, and there's only so much she likes him and he asked her to the prom and did he kiss you OMG! OMG! I can take. The main character finding interesting ways to bend the truth around her dad so she can go out with the 'bad boy' while still getting A's on her math tests and term papers gave me hives. Probably because my own daughter is about this age, and it started to scare the crap out of me.
I think these books are termed YA, and aimed there, so I don't think I can fairly compare it to vamp romance novels. But having read my fair share in the past five years, I can't help but think I've seen this all before. And I have, in...almost every vamp romance novel I've read in the past five years. Just take them out of their 30's and shove them in high school, and viola! Megahit.
The book isn't bad, per se, but it isn't new. And I don't think the movie is going to help matters for me. To wit:
Good Grief. Okay, really? This is what passes for hot these days? Yes, I know that the vamp, Edward, is supposed to be pale but this dude would put a fish's belly in the Artic in the winter to shame. Or the current state of my legs, take your pick. Sexy, tousled hair is one thing; small animal got caught in it is another. And Edward's described as having dark circles under his eyes, but I don't think that comes from L'Oreal eyeliner. I want to know what shade his lipstick is, though. I've got a dress that would look great with it.
What gets me is that actor played Cedric Diggory in the Harry Potter movies, and he was all kinds of cute. They had to actually work to make him look this bad. Considering that Edward is misogynistic in the extreme, moody, borderline stalkerish and takes emo to the horrifying limit, he'd have to be waaaay hotter than that to make me swoon.
Kids today. What are you gonna do?
Granted, I am not exactly in the target audience. Teen angst ceased to thrill me about ten years ago, and there's only so much she likes him and he asked her to the prom and did he kiss you OMG! OMG! I can take. The main character finding interesting ways to bend the truth around her dad so she can go out with the 'bad boy' while still getting A's on her math tests and term papers gave me hives. Probably because my own daughter is about this age, and it started to scare the crap out of me.
I think these books are termed YA, and aimed there, so I don't think I can fairly compare it to vamp romance novels. But having read my fair share in the past five years, I can't help but think I've seen this all before. And I have, in...almost every vamp romance novel I've read in the past five years. Just take them out of their 30's and shove them in high school, and viola! Megahit.
The book isn't bad, per se, but it isn't new. And I don't think the movie is going to help matters for me. To wit:
Good Grief. Okay, really? This is what passes for hot these days? Yes, I know that the vamp, Edward, is supposed to be pale but this dude would put a fish's belly in the Artic in the winter to shame. Or the current state of my legs, take your pick. Sexy, tousled hair is one thing; small animal got caught in it is another. And Edward's described as having dark circles under his eyes, but I don't think that comes from L'Oreal eyeliner. I want to know what shade his lipstick is, though. I've got a dress that would look great with it.
What gets me is that actor played Cedric Diggory in the Harry Potter movies, and he was all kinds of cute. They had to actually work to make him look this bad. Considering that Edward is misogynistic in the extreme, moody, borderline stalkerish and takes emo to the horrifying limit, he'd have to be waaaay hotter than that to make me swoon.
Kids today. What are you gonna do?
Monday, August 4, 2008
Books: Dead Or Undead?
My daughter went to the release party for the new Twilight book, Breaking Dawn, Friday night at Borders. She had a blast. There were total strangers bonding over character dissections, the overpriced iced coffee in the cafe, and whether or not they thought the movie would be any good.
There were also frenzied groupies screaming in the parking lot. "Oh My God, this is the best book EVAAAHHHH!"
"SECONDED!"
"WOOOOHOOOO!"
She and her best friend had so much fun, and have had their noses stuck in the pages all weekend. Which leads me to ask:
Is the printed page truly going the way of the dodo, as has often been prophesied? If it is, then how could a book warrant this kind of fangurl squeeing? Especially from the text message-OMG-LOL-will not capitalize my i's-generation, who supposedly have the attention span of a gnat?
I will admit I do not understand people who hate reading. I'm sure they have their reasons; one friend of mine said it was because she couldn't take just sitting there. She got anxious if she just sat for too long. Nevermind that she and I could have an Antonio Banderas marathon with no problem.
But if Twilight and the Harry Potter phenomenon and even the Left Behind series (they had to build a 2,500 square foot warehouse just for the release of the last book) are any indication, books aren't going anywhere soon. Maybe it's just with all the competition, they have to be better.
There were also frenzied groupies screaming in the parking lot. "Oh My God, this is the best book EVAAAHHHH!"
"SECONDED!"
"WOOOOHOOOO!"
She and her best friend had so much fun, and have had their noses stuck in the pages all weekend. Which leads me to ask:
Is the printed page truly going the way of the dodo, as has often been prophesied? If it is, then how could a book warrant this kind of fangurl squeeing? Especially from the text message-OMG-LOL-will not capitalize my i's-generation, who supposedly have the attention span of a gnat?
I will admit I do not understand people who hate reading. I'm sure they have their reasons; one friend of mine said it was because she couldn't take just sitting there. She got anxious if she just sat for too long. Nevermind that she and I could have an Antonio Banderas marathon with no problem.
But if Twilight and the Harry Potter phenomenon and even the Left Behind series (they had to build a 2,500 square foot warehouse just for the release of the last book) are any indication, books aren't going anywhere soon. Maybe it's just with all the competition, they have to be better.
Friday, July 11, 2008
The Adventures of Grammar Girl And Spellcheck Boy
Dear internet,
After seeing a trillion forty-nine sentences like, "I hope he doesn't loose this contest," and "UR a looser," may I enlighten you on a small fact?
LOSE: (looz) vb. destroy, to miss from a customary place, to suffer deprivation of, to fail to use, to fail to win or obtain, to fail to keep or maintain, to wander from, to get rid of.
LOOSE: (loos) vb. not rigidly fastened, free from restraint or obligation, not dense or compact in structure, not chaste, slack, not precise or exact.
You will notice, internet, that not only do the words have different meanings they have different pronounciations as well. That means they are not homonyms, so from now on you will stop getting a free pass. Please stop. Losers.
Sincerely,
Grammar Girl and Spellcheck Boy
After seeing a trillion forty-nine sentences like, "I hope he doesn't loose this contest," and "UR a looser," may I enlighten you on a small fact?
LOSE: (looz) vb. destroy, to miss from a customary place, to suffer deprivation of, to fail to use, to fail to win or obtain, to fail to keep or maintain, to wander from, to get rid of.
LOOSE: (loos) vb. not rigidly fastened, free from restraint or obligation, not dense or compact in structure, not chaste, slack, not precise or exact.
You will notice, internet, that not only do the words have different meanings they have different pronounciations as well. That means they are not homonyms, so from now on you will stop getting a free pass. Please stop. Losers.
Sincerely,
Grammar Girl and Spellcheck Boy
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
More About Me, You Lucky Internet, You
Because there's no better subject than me, you know. And not because I ran out of ideas and stole Alice's meme. Of course not.
Let's go to the Movies!
1. One that made you laugh: Too many to count, but I have to give a shout out to YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN. When Kenneth Mars says, “…following in his grandfather’s voodshteps.” “What?” “Voodshteps, voodshteps!” “Oh! Footsteps!” I still have a Depends moment.
2. One that made you cry: CASABLANCA. Humphrey Bogart may not have had traditional romantic good looks, but he loved her, dammit! He deserved so much more than he got. When he delivers the classic “Here’s looking at you, kid” line I get weepy.
3. One movie you loved when you were a child: ESCAPE TO WITCH MOUNTAIN. Two kids who have telekinetic powers and ran circles around adults? I was so there.
4. One you’ve seen more than once: Yes, I am that geek who has seen MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL 247 times and can recite the whole thing. Nit!
5. One you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it: JUST ONE OF THE GUYS. Standard 80’s teen movie schtick, but I adored it.
6. One you hated: MOULIN ROUGE. I didn’t get what everyone was so darn thrilled with and I’d really like those two hours of my life back.
7. One that scared you: When I was 17, my parents had gone for the weekend. I decided to watch this horror flick I’d always heard about. I mean, I’d watched HALLOWEEN and CARRIE, so this movie couldn’t scare me, right? It was in black and white, for pity’s sake. PSYCHO certainly wouldn’t scare the crap out of me and make me mentally ill for the rest of the weekend and force me to bathe with the door wide open, curtain drawn back, dog leashed to the toilet, and biggest kitchen knife in one hand, would it? Nah.
8. One that bored you: Pink Floyd’s THE WALL. Liked the album, hated the movie. Yawn.
9. One that made you happy: THE SOUND OF MUSIC. I am a complete and total sucker for it. Julie Andrews, singing kids, and Christopher Plummer fighting off Nazis. And puppets. What more do you need?
10. One that made you miserable: SCHINDLER’S LIST. As far as I’m concerned that should be mandatory viewing for the entire world population.
11. One movie you weren’t brave enough to see: As it happens, the movie I actually did see. I was stupid enough to see a 5 o’clock matinee of POLTERGEIST by myself. There were about 6 people scattered about in the theater, and halfway through we were sitting in the same spot, clinging like old relatives.
12. One movie character you’ve fallen in love with: ONE?!? I can’t do that, I love too many! If pressed, though, I can probably say that in all his various movie appearances, THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA still gets me in sensitive places.
13. The last movie you saw: THE INCREDIBLE HULK, and I was enormously pleased. It had good action, good angst, but gave several respectful nods to the T.V. show, including a cameo by Lou Ferrigno! SO much better than the last one.
14. The next movie you hope to see: I’m going to be dragged to THE DARK KNIGHT. I love Christian Bale, and the first was very good, but seeing Heath Ledger will be sad. Plus he looks Cree. Pee.
Do the movie meme if you wish!
Let's go to the Movies!
1. One that made you laugh: Too many to count, but I have to give a shout out to YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN. When Kenneth Mars says, “…following in his grandfather’s voodshteps.” “What?” “Voodshteps, voodshteps!” “Oh! Footsteps!” I still have a Depends moment.
2. One that made you cry: CASABLANCA. Humphrey Bogart may not have had traditional romantic good looks, but he loved her, dammit! He deserved so much more than he got. When he delivers the classic “Here’s looking at you, kid” line I get weepy.
3. One movie you loved when you were a child: ESCAPE TO WITCH MOUNTAIN. Two kids who have telekinetic powers and ran circles around adults? I was so there.
4. One you’ve seen more than once: Yes, I am that geek who has seen MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL 247 times and can recite the whole thing. Nit!
5. One you loved, but were embarrassed to admit it: JUST ONE OF THE GUYS. Standard 80’s teen movie schtick, but I adored it.
6. One you hated: MOULIN ROUGE. I didn’t get what everyone was so darn thrilled with and I’d really like those two hours of my life back.
7. One that scared you: When I was 17, my parents had gone for the weekend. I decided to watch this horror flick I’d always heard about. I mean, I’d watched HALLOWEEN and CARRIE, so this movie couldn’t scare me, right? It was in black and white, for pity’s sake. PSYCHO certainly wouldn’t scare the crap out of me and make me mentally ill for the rest of the weekend and force me to bathe with the door wide open, curtain drawn back, dog leashed to the toilet, and biggest kitchen knife in one hand, would it? Nah.
8. One that bored you: Pink Floyd’s THE WALL. Liked the album, hated the movie. Yawn.
9. One that made you happy: THE SOUND OF MUSIC. I am a complete and total sucker for it. Julie Andrews, singing kids, and Christopher Plummer fighting off Nazis. And puppets. What more do you need?
10. One that made you miserable: SCHINDLER’S LIST. As far as I’m concerned that should be mandatory viewing for the entire world population.
11. One movie you weren’t brave enough to see: As it happens, the movie I actually did see. I was stupid enough to see a 5 o’clock matinee of POLTERGEIST by myself. There were about 6 people scattered about in the theater, and halfway through we were sitting in the same spot, clinging like old relatives.
12. One movie character you’ve fallen in love with: ONE?!? I can’t do that, I love too many! If pressed, though, I can probably say that in all his various movie appearances, THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA still gets me in sensitive places.
13. The last movie you saw: THE INCREDIBLE HULK, and I was enormously pleased. It had good action, good angst, but gave several respectful nods to the T.V. show, including a cameo by Lou Ferrigno! SO much better than the last one.
14. The next movie you hope to see: I’m going to be dragged to THE DARK KNIGHT. I love Christian Bale, and the first was very good, but seeing Heath Ledger will be sad. Plus he looks Cree. Pee.
Do the movie meme if you wish!
Monday, June 23, 2008
Please Tell Me I Didn’t Just Hear That
I’m not sure daytime television really needs Emmy awards. An Emmy is supposed to reward excellence in television. Daytime is, by many definitions, junk food. It’s like giving a James Beard award to Hostess for the Ding Dong.
But I watched some of the Daytime Emmys to make fun of the fashions, the only true reason for watching award shows, when the Emmy for Best Talk Show-Informative came up. They had to split talk shows into categories this year, Informative and Entertainment. I was remarking that TV was really bankrupt if they had so many shows they to make up more categories, when The Tyra Banks Show was nominated for Informative Talk Show. Tyra, informative? That officially marks the beginning of the apocalypse, right?
Now, I love Miss Tyra. I’ve got to love a woman who is not ashamed to be photographed eating a Twinkie during New York Fashion Week. My daughter and I are addicted to America’s Next Top Model, mostly because we know that after all the catfights, none of these women will ever be seen again. Tyra has accomplished one good thing, though- she champions the curvy girl every chance she gets.
Some magazine or other last year called her fat. Yeah, right. She’s fat. She may love her BBQ ribs, but that girl ain’t fat. I know what fat is. It’s in my mirror every time I can’t avoid a glance. But an angry Tyra yelled on her informative talk show, “Every woman who is built like me needs to tell those kind of people to KISS MY FAT *SS!” Number one, Tyra, please don’t lump yourself in with real fat people, but number two, I appreciate the sentiment. It’s about time that different body types are celebrated, especially in modeling and television and film.
She won an Emmy for that episode. That may be a tad unreal, but no one ever believes awards mean what they’re supposed to. What got me was her acceptance speech. She went on about how no one thought her show would last two weeks, but now it’s on the fourth season, and if you have a dream that no one else believes in you should tell them to, “Kiss your big, juicy, bootylicious,” and I changed the channel. Surely Tyra, who scolds the Top Model girls on their comportment, did not just accept her Emmy by telling people to kiss her big bouncy.
But I watched some of the Daytime Emmys to make fun of the fashions, the only true reason for watching award shows, when the Emmy for Best Talk Show-Informative came up. They had to split talk shows into categories this year, Informative and Entertainment. I was remarking that TV was really bankrupt if they had so many shows they to make up more categories, when The Tyra Banks Show was nominated for Informative Talk Show. Tyra, informative? That officially marks the beginning of the apocalypse, right?
Now, I love Miss Tyra. I’ve got to love a woman who is not ashamed to be photographed eating a Twinkie during New York Fashion Week. My daughter and I are addicted to America’s Next Top Model, mostly because we know that after all the catfights, none of these women will ever be seen again. Tyra has accomplished one good thing, though- she champions the curvy girl every chance she gets.
Some magazine or other last year called her fat. Yeah, right. She’s fat. She may love her BBQ ribs, but that girl ain’t fat. I know what fat is. It’s in my mirror every time I can’t avoid a glance. But an angry Tyra yelled on her informative talk show, “Every woman who is built like me needs to tell those kind of people to KISS MY FAT *SS!” Number one, Tyra, please don’t lump yourself in with real fat people, but number two, I appreciate the sentiment. It’s about time that different body types are celebrated, especially in modeling and television and film.
She won an Emmy for that episode. That may be a tad unreal, but no one ever believes awards mean what they’re supposed to. What got me was her acceptance speech. She went on about how no one thought her show would last two weeks, but now it’s on the fourth season, and if you have a dream that no one else believes in you should tell them to, “Kiss your big, juicy, bootylicious,” and I changed the channel. Surely Tyra, who scolds the Top Model girls on their comportment, did not just accept her Emmy by telling people to kiss her big bouncy.
Hey, I said I liked her. I never said she was classy.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
You Just Don’t Appreciate My Genius
With the opening of M. Night Shyamalan’s The Happening, I’ve seen buzz around Blogsylvania about what a total tool M. Night is. So, a big Hollywood director is a diva and a brat. What a surprise! Surely, that’s never happened before!
I couldn’t care less if he threw a fit in front of reporters, and thinks he deserves to have some poor flunky pick out all the red M&M’s in the green room before he’ll touch them. (No one reported the M&M thing. I’ve worked for some theatrical venues where the one-hit wonder coming to perform had that sort of thing in the contract.) As long as he loves his wife and kids, and does his job by giving me some good movies, he can pitch all the hissies he wants.
What annoys me is the bloggers writing about him. If they’re pro-Night, then everything he’s touched is absolute gold and he’s the bestest ever and if you didn’t like his film, you obviously just don’t Get It. You have a higher intuitive power if you do Get It, I guess. I’m sick enough to envision a group of Nightfans huddled in a cave somewhere, discussing the Greater Meaning of seeing dead people and waiting for the big computer generated bird to take them home.
The anti-Nights are worse. He’s pedestrian, predictable, and highly undeserving of his artistic reputation. Yeah. And how many billion-dollar movies have you made, again? “I figured out the plot twist to Sixth Sense in the first thirty minutes.” “It took you that long? Well, I figured out the twist to Signs in the first fifteen minutes.” “Idiot. I figured out The Village from the previews!”
I will admit it. I didn’t see any of that coming. I didn’t figure out the twist. Does that mean I’m some kind of stupid, knuckle-dragging regressive? I did catch the one in a non-Night movie, The Lake House. Even though I knew what was coming, I still enjoyed it.
Are we all saddled with such huge inferiority complexes that we have to beat up on movie watchers to feel better? I generally like M. Night’s movies. I don’t have to worship at his altar. If you don’t like his movies, fine. But don’t make insinuations about my intellect when I say I loved Lady in the Water. By the way, what does it say about yours when you say you hate him but you keep seeing the movies?
Why can’t we just say, “ I liked that,” and “Oh, really? I didn’t,” and go get a macchiato?
I couldn’t care less if he threw a fit in front of reporters, and thinks he deserves to have some poor flunky pick out all the red M&M’s in the green room before he’ll touch them. (No one reported the M&M thing. I’ve worked for some theatrical venues where the one-hit wonder coming to perform had that sort of thing in the contract.) As long as he loves his wife and kids, and does his job by giving me some good movies, he can pitch all the hissies he wants.
What annoys me is the bloggers writing about him. If they’re pro-Night, then everything he’s touched is absolute gold and he’s the bestest ever and if you didn’t like his film, you obviously just don’t Get It. You have a higher intuitive power if you do Get It, I guess. I’m sick enough to envision a group of Nightfans huddled in a cave somewhere, discussing the Greater Meaning of seeing dead people and waiting for the big computer generated bird to take them home.
The anti-Nights are worse. He’s pedestrian, predictable, and highly undeserving of his artistic reputation. Yeah. And how many billion-dollar movies have you made, again? “I figured out the plot twist to Sixth Sense in the first thirty minutes.” “It took you that long? Well, I figured out the twist to Signs in the first fifteen minutes.” “Idiot. I figured out The Village from the previews!”
I will admit it. I didn’t see any of that coming. I didn’t figure out the twist. Does that mean I’m some kind of stupid, knuckle-dragging regressive? I did catch the one in a non-Night movie, The Lake House. Even though I knew what was coming, I still enjoyed it.
Are we all saddled with such huge inferiority complexes that we have to beat up on movie watchers to feel better? I generally like M. Night’s movies. I don’t have to worship at his altar. If you don’t like his movies, fine. But don’t make insinuations about my intellect when I say I loved Lady in the Water. By the way, what does it say about yours when you say you hate him but you keep seeing the movies?
Why can’t we just say, “ I liked that,” and “Oh, really? I didn’t,” and go get a macchiato?
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A Discussion Worth Having
Ello is having a guest on her blog today, one Dr. Durham who wrote The Lolita Effect. It's about the media's sexualization of young girls, and I for one think it's a discussion worth having. There are many, many avenues that issue can take, but I have two thoughts.
First, even in adult circles it's not enough anymore to look groomed, or pretty, or attractive. It's all about looking sexy. My daughter bemoans this particular trend, as do I. See, I met my husband at work. I did not wear come hither clothing at work, yet somehow, surprise, surprise, he still found me attractive. My daughter (she's 16) told me once, "I can't find anything to wear. They are all made for a stick with boobs, and designed to make you look like a prostitute."
When did it become necessary for every woman to look as sexy as she possibly can, even when going to the grocery store?
Second, why do these girls have these outfits in the first place? Even though some corporate doofus will market them, the parents are footing this particular bill. Yes, I've given my kids money to do their own shopping, but when we got home I nixed anything I thought was inappropriate. Trying to explain to a 12-year-old why they don't need micro-mini club outfits is bad enough; but worse is mothers who buy leopard print undies and shorts with LUSH spelled out on the butt for their 4-year-olds. Come on Moms. Get a clue.
First, even in adult circles it's not enough anymore to look groomed, or pretty, or attractive. It's all about looking sexy. My daughter bemoans this particular trend, as do I. See, I met my husband at work. I did not wear come hither clothing at work, yet somehow, surprise, surprise, he still found me attractive. My daughter (she's 16) told me once, "I can't find anything to wear. They are all made for a stick with boobs, and designed to make you look like a prostitute."
When did it become necessary for every woman to look as sexy as she possibly can, even when going to the grocery store?
Second, why do these girls have these outfits in the first place? Even though some corporate doofus will market them, the parents are footing this particular bill. Yes, I've given my kids money to do their own shopping, but when we got home I nixed anything I thought was inappropriate. Trying to explain to a 12-year-old why they don't need micro-mini club outfits is bad enough; but worse is mothers who buy leopard print undies and shorts with LUSH spelled out on the butt for their 4-year-olds. Come on Moms. Get a clue.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
My Kids Are Deprived
December Quinn had this very interesting post about how maybe adults wouldn’t act like children if adulthood were more fun. And while I don’t drink or smoke, she made some good points. There used to be a mystique, a glamour, to being an adult. So many things my parents did I longed to- mysterious things like cocktail parties and R-rated movies. I would lie on my parent’s bed and watch my mother dress for their nights out; I loved her jewelry box. No treasure chest in the world could have held more fascination for me. Watching her put on a beautiful dress and dabbing perfume behind each ear was a ritual I yearned to perform someday. And the secret smile my father and mother would share before they left made me catch my breath even though I didn’t yet understand what it meant.
But even as a teen who snuck around to see movies I shouldn’t have, let Dwayne Buhler cop a feel at a dance, and forced down beer I hated just because of the glorious wickedness of it all, I understood that were rights and privileges to being an adult that I did not have. And should not expect. Why, beyond the un-funning of adulthood, do parents abdicate their right to be grownups who can do what they like, and the kids will just have to live with it?
Because now, kids run the freaking universe. I have been in children’s ministry for close to 12 years; I have seen toddlers who are wreaking havoc and they are told, firmly yet calmly, with no trace of censure that might injure their delicate feelings but with enough determination to let them see that you mean it, “No, Billy.” The experts say if you do this right the children will obey without having emotional damage. Apparently thousands of parents aren’t doing it right. My kids had two rules growing up- you cannot disobey and you cannot show disrespect/defiance. They didn’t have to like it, and they didn’t have to like me. They were allowed to feel whatever they felt- they could be mad and pouty if that’s how they felt about it- but they were not allowed to tell me that I was mean or they hated me; neither were they allowed to show me any kind of physical disrespect. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen 3 year olds hitting their parents and mom and dad think it’s funny or justified. And these are the kids who are never spanked, which supposedly causes such behavior.
Which, IMO, leads to school age kids who think they deserve anything they darn well want. What adult has time or energy for parties and old-fashioned romance when Bobby and Sissy have a different activity every night, sometimes two, and the weekend is completely taken up with things the kiddoes want to do? And you can’t blame them. Mom and Dad have trained them to believe they are the center of the universe. And that leads to teens who take adult rights and privileges without having any of the obligations and responsibilities. The day my high school aged self could have gone to another city, let alone state or country, for Spring Break, to dance and drink and have sex under the ‘watchful’ eye of the one or two poor chaperones, and my parents would have footed the bill? Shyeah. When donkeys fly. But when these kids get STD’s, get pregnant, or get killed? They pay. And it’s our fault.
So, yes, my poor kids are deprived. They will just have to look at us and dream of the day they can do cool stuff. But hopefully, they’ll also be relieved that they can spend a few more years without ultimate responsibility.
But even as a teen who snuck around to see movies I shouldn’t have, let Dwayne Buhler cop a feel at a dance, and forced down beer I hated just because of the glorious wickedness of it all, I understood that were rights and privileges to being an adult that I did not have. And should not expect. Why, beyond the un-funning of adulthood, do parents abdicate their right to be grownups who can do what they like, and the kids will just have to live with it?
Because now, kids run the freaking universe. I have been in children’s ministry for close to 12 years; I have seen toddlers who are wreaking havoc and they are told, firmly yet calmly, with no trace of censure that might injure their delicate feelings but with enough determination to let them see that you mean it, “No, Billy.” The experts say if you do this right the children will obey without having emotional damage. Apparently thousands of parents aren’t doing it right. My kids had two rules growing up- you cannot disobey and you cannot show disrespect/defiance. They didn’t have to like it, and they didn’t have to like me. They were allowed to feel whatever they felt- they could be mad and pouty if that’s how they felt about it- but they were not allowed to tell me that I was mean or they hated me; neither were they allowed to show me any kind of physical disrespect. I cannot tell you how many times I have seen 3 year olds hitting their parents and mom and dad think it’s funny or justified. And these are the kids who are never spanked, which supposedly causes such behavior.
Which, IMO, leads to school age kids who think they deserve anything they darn well want. What adult has time or energy for parties and old-fashioned romance when Bobby and Sissy have a different activity every night, sometimes two, and the weekend is completely taken up with things the kiddoes want to do? And you can’t blame them. Mom and Dad have trained them to believe they are the center of the universe. And that leads to teens who take adult rights and privileges without having any of the obligations and responsibilities. The day my high school aged self could have gone to another city, let alone state or country, for Spring Break, to dance and drink and have sex under the ‘watchful’ eye of the one or two poor chaperones, and my parents would have footed the bill? Shyeah. When donkeys fly. But when these kids get STD’s, get pregnant, or get killed? They pay. And it’s our fault.
So, yes, my poor kids are deprived. They will just have to look at us and dream of the day they can do cool stuff. But hopefully, they’ll also be relieved that they can spend a few more years without ultimate responsibility.
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