Sunday, March 29, 2009

Red, red, I want red

I just went through my facebook and my myspace...yes myspace...and deleted out people who I am not actually friends with or have some sort of connection to that is mutually beneficial. So there I am, deleting people and I was shocked to find out that other people don't do that. They just stay friends with all these people who aren't really their friends. I take issue with that.
These sites are for social networking, but if there is someone on there that you don't now, nor will you ever have a reason to network with, then why stay friends with them?
I just don't think its a big deal. We aren't friends to begin with so why do we have to continue on with this charade? I don't de-friend people who are actually my friend.
I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person. I am not a bad person.
We are not really friends. We are not really friends. We are not really friends.
I look good in red. I look good in red. I look good...sorry about that. Got a little carried away.

Saturday, March 28, 2009


So, I'm getting my car inspected and if you have been keeping up with this blog, you know that things happen when I get my car inspected.
First, it's the end of March and its cold in Texas. I mean, cold. I love the cold so it's great. I get to the place, I go to wait inside and what do I find? It's just as cold inside as it is outside because the air conditioning is blasting as if it was a Texas summer. So that's obnoxious but I can deal with it.
Inspection happens. Hooray! I passed! I get back in the car and I notice something. When I gave them my car, I had a stack of 6 CDs sitting in my passengers seat. When I got my car back, they were all laid out, as if they had been examined. So I look at them. Sarah Brightman, Kelly Clarkson, Britney, Chris Cornell, Tye Tribbett, and Jon McLaughlin. It was at that moment that I realized that these 5 "men" were looking at my CDs and judging me. You'd think I would feel violated but no. I feel empowered. Why? Because that's an awesome grouping of CDs. Only a really awesome person would have such a grouping of CDs in their car with them, not to mention the others that weren't laying out. So I feel great and I'm not afraid to say it. And thankfully, now I am also warm.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Kathy Griffin would be so proud

I'm going to be so politically incorrect in this post, you just know that it will offend you more than likely. I'm saying that up front.
I don't have anything against blind people. It's not their fault and they are just as great as anyone else. They are capable of doing anything I can do, save for driving and seeing. There was a blind girl in one of my classes last semester and she was brilliant. Much smarter than me. But come on Stevie Wonder. Come on. Shout outs to Barack Obama on American Idol? Come on. That's just plain stupid. It doesn't matter if he is watching. And think about it. Stevie Wonder can probably talk to Obama whenever he wants to. So why waste your phone-a-friend on a shout out on American Idol? Just sing the songs. (he sounds fantastic by the way)
And Scott. Come on America. The sympathy vote this is old now. It's not that he's terrible. That's not it. He's not good as compared to everyone else. I don't care that he's blind. The show isn't about that. It's about singing and he's not the best. So I get frustrated when people who are better end up going home.
I told you. So wrong. I'm being so wrong in this post. SO WRONG.
Really, I wouldn't have said anything if Wonder hadn't done the stupidest shout out ever. But he did. And it's my duty to call him out on it. Sorry Stevie.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

The Saget's guide

Bob Saget. Bob Saget. We don't need you. Go away.
Here I am, watching dumb Dancing with the Stars, and the commercial for his new show comes on. Wait a minute. Who green-lit this man's show? Who thought it would be a great idea to bring him back on television?
Look. Let's call a spade a spade. Full House was great in the moment. It was great television for being young and learning life lessons with a good synthesizer track behind it was great. But have you tried to watch a rerun of that show? It's one of the most painful experiences I've ever experienced. They should have used that in interrogating the Taliban. I'd talk.
Take this man off of my television. He's really dirty when he does stand up too. It's like, whoa Danny Tanner, censor what you say. Man, he needs to calm down. And get off the television. I mean, he will soon enough. The show starts in two weeks and we are only about a month away before the cancellation rumors start trying to revive the won't work.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Anything you can do, Harry can do better

Can I just ask this question please? Why is the woman who directed the first Twilight movie (to mediocre results) and who (stupidly) turned down the second movie, still in the press (annoyingly) talking about when she met the stars of the film. Who cares? You know what, this movie didn't do THAT well. The last Harry Potter movie made over 100 million dollars more than Twilight did. Worldwide, it did almost 600 million dollars more than Twilight. The books outsell the Twilight books, the characters are better, the story is more interesting, and the films are much more enjoyable.
Preface: I liked the Twilight movie an okay amount. No offense. But Harry is better. I probably should have put the preface at the beginning. But I digress.
I guess I don't get why it's being heralded as this enormous cultural phenomenon when in comparison to Harry, it's really just a side note. I can get past everyone liking it. There's a lot to like about it. Personally, I don't get it, but I know many people who do and that's great. I just don't understand why this director is out there like she is the queen bee when really, she's not going to be remembered by anyone for directing the first Twilight movie. But then again, she has been doing such a great job of making sure that no one forgets that A) She directed it B) She turned down the second one and C) She loved working with the cast. Gag.
Move on. Make a different movie and promote it this heavily. Remake Little Nicky or Nell. Do something. But please, know that the DVD is going to fly off shelves no matter what. It doesn't need your press. And I don't need your stress. And Harry is better.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The haunted man-son

Okay. So I'm physically in class yesterday, mentally, somewhere completely different. I'm sitting there, listening to the people in my class talk about all sorts of interesting things and I am genuinely interested in what they are saying. All the while, I feel like a balloon.
Next thing I know, my prof is calling on me, asking if I have anything to contribute to it. Without missing a beat, and in the groggiest voice I've ever heard come out of my mouth, I say, "I'm sorry. I'm so zoned out today. I have no idea."
I said that. To a prof. In class.
I'm always on the ball, I've always read, I've always done what I am supposed to do, but yesterday, I hadn't and it was the one day that I was called on. Karma and irony mixed together to create some sort of monster that was kin to that giant monster on top of the mountain from Fantasia. You know, the peak of the mountain that comes to life and is a giant monster? Right. That is what hit me yesterday. A giant monster. And I haven't been able to shake it since.
Grim, grinning ghosts have come out but NOT to socialize. No sir. To destroy my life. And my hair.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


I think I am the only person in America that liked Adam Lambert on Idol. Yes, I understand it was strange and yes I understand it was sex on stage. I'm fine with that.
I think he is cool. I like the over-the-top look. I like the screeching when I usually don't like screeching, even though tonight he wasn't screechy. AND - he is the first guy on American Idol that I have actually liked more than the girls. Yes, I understand that he has dressed like a girl before...but whatever.
I like him and this is my statement. I've liked him since I first saw him. I'm gonna stand by it.

Going green.

I am such a moron.
I woke up this morning, pissed that I was awake and having to go to class. So, to counter that feeling, I decided to dress nicer than I usually would. No T-shirt today. No. I put on jeans and a polo and headed to class. It was when I got out of the car that I realized it was St. Patrick's Day and I was wearing an obnoxious green polo. You know what everyone was thinking. They were all going, "He planned that." Which I didn't and now I'm angry at how sappy I look wearing this green shirt on this "holiday."
I will be the first to tell you that I like a good party. But come on. It's not even our national holiday. It's just an excuse to drink green beer, pinch people, and watch major cities waste money by dyeing rivers green. Does that not red-flag anyone else? Dyeing rivers green? There doesn't seem to be anything "green" about that at all. And that's not keeping in the spirit of this day. Rude.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Every day's a Holly day

So I'm watching Dancing with the Stars, the B-List dance show with the D-List "celebrities. The first person to dance is the girl from Playboy, Holly. I know. She's naked in a magazine, she looks like Los Angeles threw up on her, she's so fake looking and she's already behind because she joined in so late. You know, I don't watch The Girls Next Door, I have too many other smutty televisions shows that I allow to run my life. But you gotta admit, she's funny. Joking about her boobs and how big they are and just laughing it off? That's a good sense of humor. I mean, she knows what we are all thinking. She knows that we are thinking, "You and Heff...on repeat like Kelly Clarkson's album in my car."
I felt genuinely thrilled for Jewel's husband. Lets call a spade of spade, last week, he looked like taking a wet cat dancing. But this week, I was cheering for him. Me. I cheered for him. And it had nothing to do with his dancing partner...okay...maybe it did a little. Okay. A lot. Love. Her.
I am just horrified that I watch this show. Just horrified. I mean, I watch My Life of the D-List, I watch Make Me a Supermodel, I watch the Real World. But Dancing with the Stars? Come on. They aren't even real stars, most of them. I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed of me.

What goes around...

My comments about jello are coming back to haunt me. It's true gang. It's true.
I went to work and the server was down, and by down, I mean bottom of the barrel, stoned out of its mind, unable to speak, boils spitting puss, broke both legs, stuck in a pit of tar...down. So I split. No use sitting around, doing nothing.
Bam. Free afternoon. What to do? Go swim.
So there I am, swimming laps in the pool at the gym. It's awesome. I can't breathe, every part of me hurts, I think the muscles in my thighs tore into three. It was awesome. Until I got home and realized I had to walk up the stairs. You know in Harry Potter when his arm bones disappear and it's just a lifeless Stretch-Armstrong arm? Right. That's me. All over.
I go to take a shower to get the chlorine off and it dons on me that I just cleaned the tub. So on top of my jello legs, I can't stand up because I am slipping around on the slick tub. It was like a Benny Hill sketch.
Karma. Jello induced karma.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Listen to me

How do you tell someone the things that you know they need to hear? I mean, how do you go there with that person and say the most awkward things that you can say to a person, knowing that they need to be said but not knowing how they will react to them?
How do you say, "You embarrass me," "You need to grow up," "You aren't a teenager," "You are hurting yourself,"or "You need to listen to me for once." How do you say that to a person? Look. I have an awful tendency to say what I am thinking, no matter what it may be. I have had to teach myself to self-censor what I say or I wouldn't have any friends. But how do you say things to someone that you know they won't take well?
For instance. I have a friend. I mean, I have more than one, but this one in particular has a tendency to only think about what they want in that moment and to not think about how that will affect them in the future or how it affects those who love them. BUT, I can't really say anything to them about it because I know that it won't be taken well. As immature as it is, I know it won't be taken well. So I can''t say, "Act your age," "Listen to me," "Don't do that." And that sucks because I can see how their actions keep hurting them and they are doing things that they will regret later, but I know that they won't react well to the things that are said to them in love.
Love is a many splendid thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love. But what about when love isn't enough and you have to actually say it? What then?


I am uncontrollably happy right now. I wish I could tell you why, I wish I knew why. But I am shamelessly filled with joy. Do you remember Julia Roberts' Oscar acceptance speech? There she was, 20 pounds of fake hair and a stunning dress, teeth from one end of the stage to the other, and she is laughing because of how happy she was, stating that she was "shamelessly filled with joy." Do you remember that? If not, you should youtube it. It's really quite wonderful.
Well, I have been alone today for the past 12 hours. I've gotten things done, I've cleaned a little, I've listened to new music, I've got a chinese and watched TV. (Lily Allen. Chinese. Listen to it.) It's been a really fantastic day.
There is something to be said for a day being alone and productive. It's really nice. Not that being with people is a bad thing. Clearly, I'm a people person. But I think that because I am with people all the time, the time that I spend alone is really great. Well, either really great or really depressing. It's an either/or situation with me. But today was GREAT. So great that I wanted to shout about it. Figuratively. Not really. Though, I did shout today. I was watching something on youtube (where the Julia Roberts speech is...remember) and I was so...shamelessly filled with joy that I did shout a bit. If you know me, you know that's not strange. So here I am, watching a room full of Elvis' at a wedding on television, happy as can be. Soon, I will go to sleep. You know at the end of Mona Lisa Smile, when Julia is sitting in the back seat of the cab and all the girls are biking next to her, showing her that they love her? The music is swirling, the girls are crying, Julia reaches out of the car to touch Kirsten Dunst's hand and then she sits back in her seat. As the movie fades out, she looks to the side and smiles her famous smile. That's the smile I will smile as I lay down to fall asleep. Why? Because today has been so great. And I'm rehearsing for when I get my Oscar.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Garden variety

I got called a tool yesterday. Fun times.
You know, when I was in high school, I was on the yearbook staff. Editor, to be exact. (horn tooting is allowed in this instance) We had a wall in the staff room where we would hang all sorts of quotes and pictures that we thought were funny. It was innocent enough. Well, kinda.
We had this really awful picture of the cheerleaders that hung on the wall and the girls in the picture were not the most...moral...of individuals and some of the more vocal girls on staff decided that that particular picture needed a title. "Garden Tools."
Of course, the cheer leading coach came in the room for some terrible reason and saw it, got offended for some stupid reason, told the cheerleaders what it said, then they were all pissed and it became an early incarnation of a Gossip Girl subplot. I didn't write it but you know how that goes. I didn't prevent it from being on the wall either. My bad. Sorry girls. I actually like cheerleaders a lot now. I'm a big fan of the guys and gals that cheer for the sporting teams here at Baylor. Rah Rah and all of that. Big fan.
So yesterday, the tables were turned on me. Except I was verbally called a tool. Clearly, the know-it-alls that said it have been squelched from my life and shan't return, but still. (just kidding...) Since when did a one word text message answer constitute being a tool? I'm with people I usually don't get to hang out with, we are talking, I don't really want to be on my phone texting other people. So one word answers is what you get. I stand by it. I don't take it back. And if that makes me a tool, then so be it.

Love heals

"People who test positive have trouble getting insurance, jobs, it's terrible." That is what Blanche said to Rose on the Golden Girls when Rose had to go in for an HIV test. The episode aired around 1991. I knew that Rent made a big deal out of the AIDS crisis and by that, I mean that it splattered the AIDS culture on the public radar. But here I am, innocently watching these four older women talk about sex and I was hit by this real life issue. I've noticed that the double G puts social issues into many of its episodes, but this one was more real to me for some reason.
When I lived in New York, I was exposed to AIDS in a way that I had never been exposed to it before. Growing up in Texas, the extent of my knowledge of AIDS was limited to Magic Johnson and with that, came the shame-based knowledge that it was his whoring around that got him in that spot. That is all I knew. Now, I've met people who have AIDS, I know people with AIDS, and while some of them owe their present to their whorish pasts, some got it honestly. (Honest meaning transfusion or the lack of disclosure with a boyfriend or girlfriend) As I lived up there, my heart became heavier and heavier for people who deal with this issue. In the end, it doesn't really matter how you get it, it just matters how you deal with it.
I remember when I got back to Texas for school, I watched Angels in America and I was just captivated by the story. Again, a Hollywood version of it, but it was as real as it could have been. I've followed all of the latest updates on treatment and how they've cured it in rats, how crocodile blood carried immunities that kill the virus, and how a bone marrow transplant in a person rid him of the disease.
I know that I usually am making some sort of smart-ass comment related to television or someone wearing a stupid outfit, but for now, I just wanted to throw this out there. As much as television is great for entertainment, tonight, it has given me reason to pause and reflect.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

There's always room for jello...

Look. I went to Luby's yesterday. I know. But I did it. I went there.
That statement is the statement by which all others will be measured against for the rest of the week. I went to Luby's this week. Dear God.
I watched American Idol, not nearly as eventful as Luby's with the overzealous waitress that needed to be sedated. I am moderately obsessed with Adam. Couldn't tell you why but I am. I dig the whole Freddy Mercury thing. At least that is who I think he reminds me of and I'm fine with that. Then Kelly was on there and she was good and the album came out and it's good and everything is good. But still. I went to Luby's.
I'm sorry. I haven't been to Luby's since I was in elementary school and as fun as it was to randomly go there and be random (which I love), I was quickly reminded that for that same ten dollars, I could have eaten anywhere else. There is just this air about the place that caters to an older crowd and as much as I am sure they are all fantastic, there is no reason to eat that much jello. None at all.
Too much lime jello isn't good for anyone. Why would an establishment throw that much jello out into the world? I mean, its lime, lemon, and cherry. It's got whipped cream on top. It's on everything in the dessert shelves. It's everywhere. Why? Why do we need that much jello?
I guess, the point of all of this is: I went to Luby's. What did you do on your spring break? I went to Luby's.

Monday, March 9, 2009

...where are you?

I was rudely awakened this morning by the exterminator banging on my door. Granted, I should have been awake already anyways, but I wasn't. And then he came in spraying for bugs. Fine fine. So I'm awake. I turn on the television and I watch Scooby Doo and Tom & Jerry.
Right. Because I'm 8 on Spring Break. Apparently.
Then I'm watching the Real World. What is going on here? It's like I am becoming a child again, which is strange since I have been having such a complex over the past few days as pertains to my age. You know, within a month of graduating from grad school, I will be 27 years old. I know. That's not old. I don't think it's old. Its really quite young. I just don't know. I don't know where I thought I would be at this age, so I don't have anything to be upset about. But it's just strange.
Not as strange as the Scooby Doo that was on though. Really? You can't come up with anything better than a guy wearing a sheet, being a ghost? Lame.

Sunday, March 8, 2009 was such an easy game to play...

I had the most surreal experience over the past 2 days. It's as if I have been transported back in my life. 8 years back as a matter of fact.
8 years ago, I spent my summers at Six Flags. Season passes for all of us, going at least once a week, riding the coasters, seeing the shows, and having a great time. Skin was always tan, life was good. For three or four years, we did that. We went to Six Flags and then we would go swimming. As much as that might seem silly or pointless, I wouldn't change that for the world. Not one day of it.
It's a beautiful day outside. I was driving to get lunch and the windows were down. The weather and the smell of the road, as weird as that sounds, reminded me of driving to Arlington and walking around the park. You know how the cement at a theme park smells? It's that hot tar smell with a side of cigarette smoke? That's what it smelt like outside and while some people would find that to be annoying, it took me back. I have similar smell issues when it comes to the streets of New York. There is a certain smell that I find incredibly comforting. Sometimes, I find that smell when I am walking to get lunch inbetween classes and whenever I do, I take a minute, pause, and remind myself of where I've been and where I'm going. All because of a smell.
The other reason that 8 years became so important was because a friend, a really wonderful friend that I met 8 years ago came to see me. (Not really to see me, he had a job to do in Texas, but I like to believe that he came just to see me) It's one of those things where we can just pick up where we left off and it's great.
Oh. And did I mention that I watched my favorite episode of I Love Lucy? Did I mention that?
Look. There is just something about the past coming back. Except this isn't haunting me. This is this little blessing that made my weekend so great. I always say that it's the little things that mean the most to me and this is one of those things. The smell of an amusement park and a friend I haven't seen in years, and Lucy, the Queen of the Gypsies. That's what makes life good.
And life IS good. As much as there are things going on and things to think about and plenty of reasons for me to curl up and die, life is good. As long as the little things keep being great, then life will remain good.
Just thought I would share.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Never again...

My roommate saw a woodpecker for the first time today. Really. First time. How incredible is that? We grow up seeing cartoons about an obnoxious bird that pecks the life out of penguins and rodents, but at some point in real life, we hear those tappings outside and we look. There it is. The woodpecker.
It's actually an instrument of death if you think about it. It comes flying in at you, squawking and screeching. Then, it lands on you, it's miniature talons digging into your skin. Then it starts pecking away at your temples, causing you to go blind. Then you are stuck on the ground, blind and bleeding as it flies away, cawing to all its bird friends and showing off its kill. You recover but you never get your sight back. You can never see a new Britney Spears video again. Never again will you see Chandler in a box. Never again will you see a bad Oscar dress. All because of that woodpecker.
Next time I see that bird, I'm getting out my pellet gun. Eat your heart out PETA. That bird is goin down.