Shiny Suds

I hate it when my cleaning products turn into perverts.

Whine, whine, whine

It's been a while since I complained. Something must be wrong with me. I ALWAYS complain. I need to rectify the situation. So here goes - the latest list of things that are cheesing me off today.

-It's called the fast lane for a reason. If you want to go 60, get out of the fast lane. 60 is not fast. Especially when the speed limit is 65. Speed up, change lanes, or be prepared for a vicious tailgating.
-I hate it when I want to read a book that has been made into a film or TV show and I can't find a copy at the store that doesn't have Jennifer Aniston's dumb face on the front. Famous actors and actresses rarely look the way I imagine characters to be, and I'm buying the dang book, people, not the movie. They are rarely the same. Did you know they changed the whole bloody end of "My Sister's Keeper"? And Cameron Diaz is SO not the mother I pictured.
-While I'm on the subject, I bought "Flash Forward" at Barnes & Noble the other day and the description on the back of the book is a description of THE TV SHOW. Not the book, the TV show. And they are not the same thing. The book is very different.
-It's not irritating, but when I was at the zoo last, I walked past the primate exhibits, and a zoo employee nearby asked me, "Do you want to go in the monkey house?" which wouldn't have been funny except his tone of voice made it sound like the worst chat-up line in history. I don't think he said it that way intentionally, because he looked confused when I laughed and declined his offer.
-I got a new debit card a few months ago because the old one finally expired. I didn't just get a new card, though, I got a new PIN. I didn't want a new PIN. I'd had the old PIN for 10 years. I wrote the new one down somewhere but I lost it and it's really irritating. I tell cashiers to run the card through as credit but they always forget, and they have to cancel what they did, and sometimes my card won't work again so quickly, and I have to use another card.
-I seem to be missing $600 from my savings account. Last time I checked, I had $700 in savings. Now I have $123. I'd check out my transaction record, but the credit union website no longer likes my password and I'm too lazy to call their corporate office and fix it. I shouldn't have to! I KNOW I have the right password.
-I'm not very funny anymore. I used to be funny. Then people started telling me I was funny. The more people told me, the less funny I got. Now I'm about as humorous as cancer.
-TV Guide magazine keeps cheating and putting together these double issues. It's a double issue because they put two weeks in one. Which means two weeks of listings but only half the other content I'm paying for. And they got rid of the "Is It Just Me?" column, which was my favorite.
-I've had a migraine for three weeks.
-Did you know that the Salvation Army bell ringers make like $7.25 an hour? They can't even be bringing that much in with those little buckets. Which makes me suspect that the money I donate goes to pay bell ringer salaries and not to help the homeless. The bells were irritating enough when I thought they were helping society. Now that I know it's not a volunteer operation, it's extra irritating.
-I hope I never meet Stephenie Meyer, because if I do, I'm likely to hurt her. If I have to hear the words "Twilight," "New Moon," "Jacob," "Edward," or "Sparkly Vampire" one more time I will bloody lose it. It is a bloody stupid book, people! And yet there are women - grown women in their forties and fifties, puff-painting t-shirts and screaming about Robert Pattinson. Can you imagine if the genders were reversed? It wouldn't be cute if a bunch of middle aged men lined up to see Miley Cyrus walk the red carpet.
-Speaking of, WTH happened to Miley? She used to be this cute, age-appropriate, normal little thing. Now she's a cheap skank. I cringe when I hear my 7-year-old niece talking about Hannah Montana.
-I am only going to say this once (once today, anyway): Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, looks good in skinny jeans. Skinny jeans are gross. I'm looking at you, Jonas Brothers.
-Fibromyalgia sucks. I sleep for ten hours and wake up feeling like it was closer to 10 minutes. And I feel like someone was beating me with a sack of unripe fruit while I slept. And you know how sometimes you don't feel like exercising but you know that if you do, you'll get this nice energy rush? Fibro ruins that. I exercise and feel like crap. Worse than crap. Crap squared.
-People keep feeling the need to chastise me for complaining. Because it could be worse and I could be homeless and disabled and have no family and no food, or because I don't live in the coldest place in the world, or because I'm not fat enough to require surgery. Well you know what folks? If I want to complain, I can complain. I don't care if there are people who are worse off than me, I don't care if I'm not the fattest person in the world, and I don't care if you don't consider 50* to be sufficiently cold. I'm crabby and tired and thoroughly miserable and a size 18, and if I want to whine, I'm by gosh going to whine. I'm allowed to, and you can't stop me.
-Someone asked me the other day about "giving away" my baby. Excuse me? I did not give her away. I placed her for adoption with a wonderful couple. I did not put an ad on Craigslist.
-I used to be able to wear my contacts for days, even sleep in them, and these days I get five, maybe six hours of comfortable wear out of them and then they hurt my eyes. Well, that was a fun fourteen years.

Enough about me. I've found a new way to annoy others - or to trick them, in any case. When I'm at the zoo, I'll pick an empty patch of land to stare at and photograph, and I'll see how many people stop to stare, too. My record is five.

Talk Like a Pirate Day

Today is, apparently, Talk Like a Pirate Day.

I don't know how I missed this earlier. I can't believe it's not printed on my Audobon Backyard Birds calendar. And it wasn't in the newspaper.

Maybe if I'd turned on the TV. I think this sort of thing is right up Channel 3's alley. They've probably got Beverly Kidd on location somewhere in a tricorn hat and an eyepatch.

You may say, Jill, isn't this the sort of ludicrous hilarity in which you typically revel? Well, if you do, you'll have to speak up, because I can't hear you. Maybe consider sending it by e-mail next time so my ears don't strain.

But I digress. I do indeed enjoy a bit of juvenile frivolity every now and then. But I do not participate in Talk Like a Pirate Day.

There are two main reasons for this, which I shall elaborate for your reading pleasure. The first is that, despite the recent pop-culture success that it has enjoyed, I do not think piracy is funny or cool. Perhaps if actual piracy was a thing of the past I could bring myself to laugh about it. But there are plenty of places in the world where actual human beings are attacked, brutalized, and killed by actual pirates, and I don't find it the least bit funny or cute. These pirates do not have a skull-and-crossbones flag on their ships, and they do not dress like Johnny Depp in one of the wildly popular Disney films based on an amusement park ride. Real pirates are much more dangerous and ruthless than that. They are cruel, they are terribly violent, and some of them are downright evil.

So forgive me if I don't think that pirates are cute or funny or simply pop-culture. I haven't been able to forget an article I read about a British civilian who was savagely and brutally slain in front of his terrified wife. Maybe when I can, I will find pirates cute and amusing.

The second reason I will be speaking in my normal hybrid of American and British English today is because of the TV show "Wife Swap." Yes, "Wife Swap." I'm rather embarrassed to admit that I have actually seen that show, but the fact remains that I have actually seen probably a dozen episodes. There was a time when I needed something to fill my TV-watching gap of 4 to 6pm, and Lifetime had the answer in the form of shrill, nasty women torturing the families of other shrill, nasty women.

In one episode, one of the families involved in the swap is headed by a man whose real name eludes me because he insisted on being called Chumbucket. Yes, *the* Chumbucket. The one responsible for this august occasion known as Talk Like a Pirate Day.

How can I describe Chumbucket? Out of touch with reality is the first phrase that comes to mind. Chumbucket, and his wench - I mean, wife - are a good argument for fewer personal freedoms in America. They dress like pirates (or rather, like the Disney version of pirates), talk like pirates (or rather, like Disney pirates), annoy their neighbors, and raise their psychologically damaged children by ignoring their problems, allowing them to curse wildly, and teaching them that there is no reason to aspire to do anything to contribute meaningfully to society (or "pirattitude," as they call it). They stage pirate plays in the backyard of the hovel they call a house, they have pirate friends (Say hello to Cap'n Slappy), they wave swords. Here's a family begging for matching prescriptions for lithium if ever I've seen one.

I won't go into detail on the episode featuring this family. Suffice it to say that Chumbucket and Mrs. Chumbucket are two of the most reprehensible human beings I have ever encountered (and I went to a community college). The fact that one of them created this holiday and stands to profit from it, even in a non-monetary fashion, repulses me like a pus-oozing face wound.

So no, I will not be talking like a pirate today. And be advised, those of you who know me, that if I hear that you have spoken like a pirate today, you will land on my spreadsheet of respect somewhere in between Dr. Phil and the man who invented Esperanto. And I think we all know how I feel about Dr. Phil

Confessions

I'm working on a few new rants, but in the meantime, here are a few random items from my list of deep, dark secrets (so deep they squeak).

-I have no idea what “3G” means.
-I didn’t know how to pronounce the word “mojito” until about three months ago.
-I have two Hannah Montana songs on my iPod (but I won’t say which two).
-I have had the game of football explained to me more than seven times, but I still couldn’t tell you which guy does what and for which reason.
-When people in public places ask me to sign a petition, I tell them I am Canadian so that I don’t have to sign without hurting their feelings.
-I cried at the end of “Nanny McPhee.” I cry every single time at the end of “Nanny McPhee.” I have seen "Nanny McPhee" about ten times.
-I joke about my fear of fish, but I am seriously terrified of the things. If I ever had to touch one I think I’d have a seizure.
-I think that pigeons are adorable. Also, chickens. Farm animals in general get me very excited. I think they are fantastic.
-I do not understand the cultural appeal of the zombie. Or the pirate, or the ninja.
-I once kicked a dog. The dog had it coming, and if I had the chance, I would kick it again. It was a horrible beast.
-It's not really a secret anymore, but I watch "SpongeBob SquarePants" with alarming regularity.
-I enjoy watching TV infomercials.
-I screen my phone calls.
-I am addicted to celebrity gossip. I waste my money on at least two scandal rags every week.
-I faint at the sight of my own blood.
-I'm not sure what it says about me that the preceding are some of my deepest, darkest secrets.

It’s that time again, boys and girls!

It’s been well over a month since the last list, so here we are: things that are bothering me right now!

-What is the point of a heat advisory in the Phoenix area? It’s Phoenix. It’s hot. Don’t we all know that? But Jill, you might say (which would be stupid because I can’t hear you), sometimes it gets a bit hotter than normal, and people need to know to stay indoors. To which I say (or I would, if I’d heard you object), is 114* really that much more dangerous than 110? Do the risks of heat rise exponentially with every degree of heat over 109? And do people really need to be told to stay inside when it’s really, really hot? I think that if you don’t know that, that if you’re the sort of person who would cheerfully go for a run when it’s hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk, this is what’s known as natural selection. Survival of the smart-enough-to-avoid-heat-stroke.
-When someone admits to being an unapologetic (fill-in-the-blank), it tends to be the sort of thing for which they should probably consider apologizing.
-I’m never sure whether, when writing, I should use the passive voice or end a sentence with a preposition.
-Ninety-five percent of the American population wouldn’t know a preposition if it bit them in the collective arse.
-The difference between a perfectly browned grilled cheese sandwich and a blackened mess seems to be about ten seconds. Maybe it’s my stove. Maybe I’m too bloody stupid to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Either way, I’m irked.
-I want to smack the next person to speak or write the phrase “natural childbirth.” Ten times out of ten these people think that childbirth is only natural if it’s drug-free, and that the only admirable, good, acceptable birth is a natural one - otherwise, you have failed as a woman. I had an IV painkiller and an epidural and finally a C-section because my body didn’t want to birth a baby. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that and I’m sick of certain people judging me for not wanting to be in excruciating pain. They’ll say that drugs aren’t good for the baby. Well how the hell is my suffering and being exhausted any good for the baby? I got drugged and I got sliced and my baby was pink and healthy and aced her APGAR. I’ll probably blog about all this later because it really bothers me.
-I watched a few episodes of “Toddlers & Tiaras” last Saturday. The fact that this show exists at all just kills me. (In my defense, there wasn’t anything else on TV.)
-The media seem incapable of using the right words when discussing Twitter. The verb is “tweet,” not “twitter.”
-The fact that the preceding bothers me, bothers me.
-My neighbors’ dogs are at it again, which mystifies me. Doesn’t the barking at 3am bother them, too? Because it sure as heck bothers me. I need to replace the battery in my Dog Silencer Pro, and all will be right with the world again.
-A few days ago “Access Hollywood” named Madonna as one of the sexiest women over 40 in show business. They said she had the body of a woman half her age, or something like that. This makes me wonder if they have seen Madonna lately, because as near as I can tell she has the body of a med school skeleton.
-I had a funnier comparison than “med school skeleton” yesterday but I’ve forgotten what it was.
-I have the Stanley Steemer jingle stuck in my head.
-I’m not very funny anymore.

Ripped pants and other occupational hazards

I have a confession to make.

I have been doing something lately that I am in no way proud of, and I'm not even sure I should admit to it.

I have been watching "SpongeBob SquarePants." A lot.

I used to hate SpongeBob. I first watched the show when I worked for the Horribly Managed Children's Salon. I had heard of SpongeBob but hadn't been subjected to the questionable humor and inane story lines. Then came HMCS and their DVD collection, which included one disc of SpongeBob. You'd think that only one DVD would be a godsend, but the fact is I'd have been happier with about twenty SpongeBob DVDs. The fact that there was only one meant I had to watch the same ten episodes over and over, and mostly I only saw the first one on the disc ("Ripped Pants," in case you were wondering) because every kid wanted to watch it from the beginning.

I began to loathe SpongeBob. I found myself suggesting other shows to children, hoping against hope that even one of them that I talked to would choose something that would offend my ears less, like, say, fingernails on a chalkboard. But I was never able to talk more than one child out of watching it in the nearly two years I spent at HMCS.

I was terribly relieved, therefore, when HMCS got another SpongeBob DVD. At last, I thought, new episodes to get sick of. I eagerly slid the disc into the DVD player, wondering what childish adventures awaited me. I'm sure you can guess what came on, though.

That's right. "Ripped Pants." It was the first episode on this DVD as well. I think a little part of me died that day. Incidentally, during the time I worked for HMCS, I did tune in to SpongeBob at home once. The episode that aired was "Ripped Pants."

So, how did I end up watching SpongeBob SquarePants voluntarily; purposely? Well, the problem is that if you don't watch Oprah or soap operas, daytime and afternoon TV is a scary, boring place. SpongeBob is one of the more sane, normal, entertaining programs on the air between 2 and 7 or so. When I channel-surfed last week, my best TV prospects were a fishing show, a Bruce Willis movie dubbed (poorly) into Spanish, a show about people who had things left in them after surgery, and (I wish I was making this up) a cartoon of the crucifixion. Yes, that crucifixion.

Can you blame me for taking refuge in Bikini Bottom? No, it's not the smartest show on TV. It isn't even *a* smart show. But things could be worse. I could still work at HMCS. Frankly, ripped pants were the least of my worries there. I was about as happy there as Squidward at the Krusty Krab.

Did I really just compare myself to Squidward? I think I've been thinking too much. I need a TV break. I think there's an episode of SpongeBob on ...



I still have all of "Ripped Pants" memorized, for the record.

It's that time again ...

Time for a few things that have been bothering me lately. Yay!

-This whole swine flu thing. Let’s stop blaming our porcine friends, okay? I’ve heard about human cases and fatalities but I haven’t heard of a single sick pig. And I think I would. News stations seem to enjoy using stock footage of farm animals.
-Every time I hear “Love Train” by the O’Jays, a song I used to like, I think of Coors Light, thanks to that stupid commercial where people are playing in the snow. It seems to me that inebriation and extreme temperatures are a poor mix on account of the risk of accident and injury.
-Something hasn’t really been said that really needs to be said some time, by someone, and soon, so I’m going to say it: “The Office” just isn’t funny anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. Period.
-Fringe is rated TV-14 for language, violence, etc. But they need to add another letter to the TV rating system so I’ll know if I shouldn’t be eating while watching. Like a G for gore, so I don’t spit out half my ice-cream sandwich upon seeing a dead animal’s exposed spinal cord.
-Fox needs to stop advertising their new show “Glee.” Quickly. It hasn’t aired yet and I’m already sick of it, mostly because I’ve had “Don’t Stop Believin’” stuck in my head for two weeks now.
-I don't know who is responsible for the proliferation of so-called "skinny jeans" on men these days - Pete Wentz? The Jonas Brothers? - but this person needs a sound beating. Men do not look good in skinny jeans. Women do not look good in skinny jeans. No one looks good in skinny jeans. Skinny jeans are evil. Pass it on.
-I watched a lot of dumb shows when I was a kid - hey most kids' shows are dumb. But it's always disheartening to see exactly how stupid they were when you're an adult and time has clouded your memory. Case in point: I caught "The Snorks" on Boomerang a few months ago and I had to turn it off after five minutes. That show made "The Smurfs" look like "CSI: Miami."
-You know those Sonic commercials, the ones with two idiots sitting in a car and talking? I hate those commercials. I hate them!
-Also, pretty much every Wendy's commercial ever made is stupid. I've never seen a commercial for Wendy's that ever made me want to eat there.
-I can sort of understand people's outrage at the Fox network's refusal to air the president's speech and show "Lie to Me" instead. But at the same time, his speech is going to be on every other channel at that time, so it's not like if you want to watch it you can't. Just don't watch Fox. I don't think that every single channel that airs needs to have the president's speech. It's sort of annoying when they do, because I'm the sort of person who would rather read his speech the next day, where I can digest it at my own pace, and I'd rather watch regular TV in prime time. I'm going to be one of those people watching "Lie to Me." Sorry, America.
-Bea Arthur died. She was my favorite Golden Girl. I've always thought that I'd like to be like Dorothy Zbornak when I get older. Only, you know, happy.
-I still can't seem to write worth crap lately.
-I'm never tired at 1am.

Can you hear me now, Chad?

I've been with Alltel for almost six years. Yes, the company with that annoying guy with Ryan Seacrest's hair. In my defense, he wasn't part of their ad campaign in 2003.

Verizon, the company with that annoying guy who used to ask if we could hear him now, recently bought Alltel. I spent about fifteen minutes on-line trying to figure out if that meant I was going to be a Verizon customer or if I'd still be one of Chad's people. It became obvious that neither company wanted me to know. I don’t know why. Maybe they weren’t sure, themselves.

So the other day, when I went into an Alltel store (still said Alltel all over the place, but it had Verizon posters on the walls) for help with a problem with my 2-year-old LG (they were no help at all), I picked up a Verizon brochure and looked at Alltel phones. Once the first guy I talked to (whose job was to direct store traffic, according to another, more helpful employee named Steve) proved useless, a second man (the aforementioned Steve) asked if I'd thought about upgrading my phone. I told him I wasn’t sure if I could yet, because I got my last phone at the end of May – the 25th, to be exact, and here’s the picture to prove it:



Although I guess it would help you to know that the file is named “052507_1357” wouldn’t it?

I digress. Steve looked it up in the computer and apparently I’ve been eligible for a new phone since January. And the store had a deal going where if I bought a Blackberry, I could get a second phone (of equal or lesser value) for free. Oh, and would I be sticking with Alltel or did I want to switch to Verizon?

Apparently it’s my choice. The phones are cooler on Verizon but Alltel is cheaper (and though the commercials do feature Chad, they are blessedly tuba-free). Part of my problem in deciding is I have no idea what the bleep I’m signed up for with Alltel. For all I know, my Alltel contract has a clause where the CEO gets one of my kidneys if his fail, and I’m paying three bucks a month for it. I know I have unlimited text-messaging, but beyond that, it’s a mystery to me. Mobile phone bills were one of those things, like motor oil changes and mowing the lawn, that my dad took care of. Any emotions aside, his being dead is a major inconvenience in that I now have to figure these things out on my own, and I find myself unable to make head or tail of a single mobile phone plan offered by either Verizon or Alltel.

Normally in this situation I’d ask my brother Scott (my own personal Geek Squad) for his opinion. But I know what his opinion is – he thinks I should switch to T-Mobile or AT&T and buy a used iPhone on Craigslist so he can hack it and play with it for a while. That’s what he did and he likes it so much that at one point his wife referred to his iPhone as his girlfriend. But I don’t want to switch to T-Mobile or AT&T. I’m happy with Alltel, kidney clause or no.

Of course, I could be just as happy with Verizon, too. And I might be no matter what. Steve made it sound like my Alltel bill would eventually be a Verizon bill. He was a bit hazy on the details. I’m not sure he understood it himself. He sure as heck wasn’t going to get any help from the company websites. But he did seem knowledgeable on the pricing for the Verizon plans. I’m thinking I’ll just go back and see Steve and let him figure it out for me. He might end up talking me into giving my bone marrow as well, but he was able to solve the problem I came into the store with, and that’s more than I can say for anyone else. And he had nice hair.

True Ugly

Disclaimer: this isn't the most eloquent rant I've ever pieced together. And there's no point to it. But it was on my mind and - all together now, children - if it's bothering me, it's going to bother you as well.


I’ll admit it – I watch ABC’s “True Beauty.”

I don’t know exactly why. It's not as rewarding an experience as I'd hoped. The fact that it’s executive-produced by both Tyra Banks and Ashton Kutcher – both of whom are known for looking good and acting dumb – should have tipped me off. Somehow I thought it would be fun to watch good-looking people act like jerks. And don’t get me wrong, it really is. But I’m not sure what the real point of the show is in the end.

I’m getting ahead of myself. In case you’ve not heard of it, I should explain that “True Beauty” is a reality show in which beautiful people compete for the chance to win a boatload of cash and a spot in People magazine’s 100 Most Beautiful People issue. But the twist is that the contestants are really being judged on their inner beauty, not their outer beauty, or something like that. The winner of each challenge is determined not by who looked the best but by who was the least unbearably obnoxious.

Here’s the problem: someone’s going to win, and yet they’re all awful people. This is the first time I’ve watched a reality show and not wanted any of the contestants to win. I don’t think any of them deserve to. They’re all phony narcissists. Oh, I suppose Julia (the beauty queen) isn’t all bad. But it’s hard to tell with her what behavior is a result of her pageant training and what’s just her being insincere.

If this show is a search for people with inner beauty, why did they cast good-looking people with no redeeming qualities? I suppose the show is meant to teach viewers about inner beauty, but it should teach by example - good example, not bad. But while the contestants to possess some quantity of outer beauty most of the program seems to showcase their inner ugly. And to what point? Not one ousted contestant has shown the slightest bit of remorse when faced with incriminating footage of their appalling behavior. Some, like Monique, actually seem amused by it, as though they think their petty nastiness Is cute.

What’s more, in the interviews and commentary mixed in with challenge footage, contestants have prattled on about inner beauty, seemingly unaware that their catty behavior on film is a blinding example of the exact opposite. Perhaps they mistakenly believe that inner beauty is achieved through good dental hygiene and regular colonics. They have no real concept of what quote-unquote inner beauty is.

I think that responsibility and accountability are part of inner beauty. Yet there are always excuses for their actions, too – someone was asking for it, or needed to be dressed down. So why is it that the ones who are most convinced of their inner beauty are the ones who, when confronted with anything short of perfection, blame everyone but themselves for whatever doesn’t meet their excruciating standards of personal worthiness?

The show is educational in the sense that it tells the viewer, please don't act like this. But studies have shown that people respond better to good examples rather than bad. Instead of showing me how inconsiderate these people are, how about showing me how a decent, truly beautiful person would act?

I'm asking way too much. I know that. So why do I watch? Because it's on TV. And because I've known outwardly beautiful people who are ugly on the inside, and I like to think that they're stabbed in the back by other beautiful people the way contestants are on the show. It does my heart good. I think that most socially inept people enjoy watching socially adroit people treating each other like crap. It makes for good TV. And personally I like seeing conceited people getting kicked off and told basically, it doesn't matter that you're good looking, because you're a horrible person. And we're throwing your picture in the trash.

Oh, and Billy? Two things. 1) You’re obviously trying to compensate for your latent homosexuality. Give it up already. America won't like you any less - and how could they? They don't like you much now. 2) Calling it a “murse” does not make it better. It just makes you sound like a jackass. Bad enough you carry a murse. But to call it a murse? Sigh. Give it up, little buddy. Have you considered a Jack Bauer-style messenger bag instead?

Crikey!

I miss Steve Irwin.

I was channel-surfing a few days ago in the late afternoon and the only show on television that didn’t involve murder, police brutality, or illegal activities was “The Crocodile Hunter.” Not just any episode, either, but a special on baby animals.

I hadn’t watched the show in ages – probably not since the death of its star. I’d forgotten how insane Steve was. And how insightful, and knowledgeable - about every creature on God’s green earth.

He had no natural fear. He reached into a den of baby rattlesnakes and pointed to the mother snake’s monstrous teeth. “Never, ever try this. I’m a professional … no one should ever touch a rattlesnake.” He wrestled with crocodiles. He stuck fingers into mouths full of sharp teeth. He rubbed the bellies of big cats. “Lion cubs have got a great bite!” He picked up and carried hungry young black bears.

Steve found beauty in even the most hideous of animals. He pointed out the delicate nose of an orangutan, the tiny venomous teeth of a baby diamondback, the clumsy elegance of an elephant’s stride. He could find the hiding place of the stealthiest of animals, lure the shiest of marsupials from their home, identify specifically the most hideous and generic looking insect. He let iguanas sit on his arm and head or bats hang from his shirt while he explained to the camera the creature’s preferred diet (which seemed at time to include Steve’s hair and khaki shirt).

He used words like gorgeous, glorious, magnificent, beautiful, lovely.

Steve loved animals and he respected them. He didn’t fault an animal for behaving like an animal as so many idiots seem to do these days. If an animal bit him, he knew it was his fault for not being more careful. And he didn’t let bodily harm stop whatever he was doing.

“The Crocodile Hunter” was one of those shows that always seemed to be on. Anytime I needed something to watch, I could turn to animal planet and there it was. I watched a lot of television many years ago – much of it educational, believe it or not. I watched the Discovery Channel, the Learning Channel, the History Channel. I didn’t learn much. But somehow when I watched “The Crocodile Hunter” I remembered. I learned about the wombat, the iguana, the sloth, the possum, the sun bear, the armadillo and about twenty other animals. What Steve said stuck with me – perhaps because he said it with such enthusiasm.

It seemed particularly ironic that he died from the sting of a normally docile creature. I always thought he’d be eaten by a crocodile or torn apart by Tasmanian devils. But a stingray? It didn’t seem right.

I still watch Animal Planet sometimes, but it’s not the same without Steve. I miss his child-like delight and wonder and unwavering enthusiasm. No one on TV has been able to match it, and I don’t think anyone ever will.

A little something to think about

There is a show on television called The Big Bang Theory. I’ve never seen it myself on account of it’s on at the same time as another show I watch and I didn’t used to have DVR.

But I did (and do) subscribe to Entertainment Weekly, which means that if something exceptionally hilarious is said on any TV show at all, it might be printed in a little TV quotes section in the next issue of EW.

Such is the case with Big Bang Theory. I wish I’d had DVR a month or so ago just so I could hear this line spoken aloud.

Sheldon (played by Jim Parsons) is explaining a new game he’s come up with called Rock Paper Scissors Lizard Spock. The rules are as follows:

“It’s very simple. Scissors cuts paper, paper covers rock, rock crushes lizard, lizard poisons Spock, Spock smashes scissors, scissors decapitates lizard, lizard eats paper, paper disproves Spock, Spock vaporizes rock, and, as it always has, rock crushes scissors.”

I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. And if I could figure out how to shape my hand for lizard (I figure Spock is the “live long and prosper” hand sign), I would totally make someone play this with me.

And people say there’s nothing good on TV anymore.

Timing is everything

I couldn’t sleep a few nights ago. This is nothing new, really, but usually when I can’t sleep I’m in bed reading or playing a video game, and a few nights ago I was downstairs on the couch, eating cookies and wondering how often Barack Obama gets a haircut.

I’d been watching “House” on the USA Network. I own all 4 seasons on DVD but I only ever watch it when it airs on TV (which I suppose means I’ve wasted a great deal of money, but I digress). In any case, house ended at 12, and was followed by an episode of “Law & Order: Criminal Intent.”

I’ve watched many episodes of the show before, and it happens that this particular episode was one I’d seen before – but only the first half. I never knew how it ended. So I watched, and it turns out it was the mom, not the grandmother, who killed all those parents.

“L&O:CI” was followed by two episodes of “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.” I can’t watch this one most of the time because it’s about, as the announcer guy says, sexually-based offenses, and I don’t have the stomach or mind for that. But the second one was particularly interesting. It was about a doctor (played by Martin Mull) who was prescribing fake and ineffective treatments for HIV. People died, he was convicted, etc, etc. Very captivating. Also very depressing.

But I was watching the second episode because of the first, and it is in fact the first episode that caught my attention. The gist of it is that a woman in the Marines had been raped and was pregnant and missing, and they found her dead, and in the search for her killer we learn all about the corruption and cover-ups in the military vis-à-vis female soldiers and sexual abuse. And apparently if you’re a female soldier, the men see you as either a b***h or a slut, and you’ll be subject to sexual harassment and any number of unpleasantries.

What caught my attention was actually a commercial that aired I think three times during the show. It was a commercial for the Army, and it showed a young woman and her parents, who had been unsure about her decision to join the armed forces. The point of the commercial was how mature and responsible the young woman was for having enlisted, and how proud her parents were of their soldier daughter.

And then the commercial break ended, and we went back to how female soldiers rarely report their rapes by superior officers.

I found that ironic and hilarious. Three times! I think that during prime time these things are probably screened a bit more carefully – what commercials air during what program about what, and that sort of thing. But when you’re watching USA at 2am, all bets are off. And I don’t know about you, but I’m hoping that woman who joined the Army knows what she’s got herself into. If she doesn’t, Mariska Hargitay could tell her for sure – right after these messages.

Ron, Rick and ... Barbie

I’m watching "Seinfeld" on channel 10 and during the commercial break there are ads for the station’s news team. The morning idiots are Ron and Rick, and a series of blonde dodos. The blondes are all interchangeable and if they didn’t have names I don’t think I’d have noticed them changing.
There used to be Ron, Rick and Ilona. Then out of nowhere, they canned Ilona and it was Ron, Rick and Jen. And it was the three of them as far as I knew until just now when I saw an ad for Ron, Rick and Alexis.

Is there some rule that TV anchorwomen have to be blonde? Oh, there are a few brunettes out there, to be sure - minorities, mostly. But not a single fecking redhead and heaven forbid any of them should have curly hair.
And I can guarantee you that once the Fox 10 morons tire of Alexis they’ll shove her aside for a newer model blonde idiot - Tiffany, perhaps, or Jessica. She’ll have no personality, perky breasts and heavily peroxided hair. I don’t know where they’ll find her - Stepford, perhaps. I think there’s some kind of lab where Fox 10 grows these little idiots.
And they lease the lab space from Mattel.