It's Funny Cuz They're FAT!

So I caught that show Mike and Molly, the show that was supposed to break all these societal rules by having an unconventional couple – a very overweight woman who falls in love with an even more overweight policeman.  I remember hearing all about it on the radio, how amazing it was that the show was turning things upside down by showing a woman that despite her weight, was empowered, confident and comfortable with whom she is.

And let’s not forget the overarching message, that this fat woman can find love. 

And when she did find love, it’d be with, of course, another fat person.  Because these are real Americans!  This represents the real world, people who don’t fit into the mainstream’s ideals but are still  normal, worth while human beings!!

Right?  RIGHT?  This is a show about a funny situationally comedic duo that upset the conventional expectations with humor!

Or… It’s a show about fat people.  And it’s funny, because they’re fat.  And they make jokes about how much they eat, or better, how much they lie about how much they eat until someone humorously points out how many times they have eaten, and now they are driven so heavily by food they can’t make logical decisions when a piece of cake is waved in front of them.

That’s literally what I saw.  Scene opens on “Molly” reviewing photos on a laptop with her friends of her now-husband from their wedding day.  In every photo, “Mike” either has his mouth open or his eyes closed, or both.   

Maybe he's faint, has he remembered to eat?

Every pictures looks like a mouth breather slipping into a diabetic coma.  She notes the only time he smiles is when a server, who happens to be female, is handing him a plate of food.  She wonders out loud if she can photoshop her face onto that woman’s body so that she’ll have one picture where he’s not slack faced, but actually smiling like a normal person. 

In walks Mike, slice of cake on a plate, shoveling it into his mouth.  Witty banter ensues as Molly looks shocked, interrogating him on where he got the piece of cake. 

Oh look, he's eating.

When told he’s eating the top of their wedding cake (that is traditionally eaten on the first anniversary, you know, when it’s totally hard, stale, and gross), he continues eating it and says it was like she was hiding it, he almost didn’t find it behind the ice cream trays, frozen turkey, and a load of other crap.  He complains he only had one piece at his own wedding, that it wasn't fair.  (Are you still with me? This WHOLE thing is about food…) 

Oh look, in this one, you can see your dignity slinking off to hide in a corner!!

She shows him picture after picture of him sneaking slices of wedding cake at the reception, “Here’s one of you hiding behind the band, eating cake…”  She went through 4 or 5 pics.  

That’s the longest I’ve ever watched the show.  There wasn’t one joke that wasn’t about being hungry, being out of control around food, or being motivated entirely by food.

So, kudos, entertainment industry.  Way to break ground on a new, incredible show where the punch line isn’t HAHA BECAUSE THEY’RE FAT.  Brilliant. 

There's Nothing Like the Sweet Taste of Justice...Porn

I came across a video about a really horrific event that I did not know about until I saw the video.  A woman was going to be moving to a new city so she left her daughter, 3 years old, in the care of another woman while she was preparing to move.  While in this woman’s care, she and another woman beat the child.  When EMTs were called to the house, the kid was in full cardiac arrest and died at the hospital. 

The video is of those 2 women being sentenced, their reactions of shock and desperation, and one of their mothers erupting in the courtroom.  One of the perps, “Erica,” goes into a hyperventilation fit and gets wheeled out in a chair.

Now… I’m not a huge fan of kids.  But I’m really not a fan of people who hurt kids, or anything dependent/innocent.  Old people, sick people, mentally challenged people, animals, babies, little kids – hell, even bigger kids, kids who believe adults are in charge and can’t see a way out.  I have no sympathy.

So… after seeing the video of their reactions (in a forum called “Justice Porn,” no less, where assholes get what’s coming to them), I go in search of the story about the girl.  And another thought struck me, a very unrelated thought that I can’t seem to make sound any less cynical and awful….

I believe in education – I think we should all have access to it, we should want it, we should want it for our kids, we should want it for …yes, even those annoying kids in my neighborhood, one of them may grow up to cure whatever I get struck down with in 40 years.  But there’s something really poetic about a stupid criminal… ignoring for a moment any sad sobby story about how an education might have changed their lives… the lack of one is often what makes is so fucking easy to nail someone with a criminal charge.

Really?  She just fell and hit her head?  You don’t think anyone is going to notice the giant burn on her leg, the cuts and bruises all over her body?  You don’t think someone with maybe a little medical/science knowledge isn’t going to be able to piece together how that fucking injury occurred, you imbecile? 

Well, maybe they did know. I’m making an assumption that they thought *anyone* would believe such as stupid story about how she got hurt, but I am willing to bet in every single hospital in every single city, every day there’s someone who – in the face of the obvious, staring at that x-ray of a hot wheel up their rear end or medical chart of, as this case, a beaten kid… and just lies their ass off about what happened.  Why do that?  Why bother?  In a criminal matter especially, does it not occur to them that attempting to cover it up is going to be just the thing the prosecution will salivate over to tell the jury??

So to the 2 women that told emergency responders that the little girl “hit her head,” fuck you, enjoy prison. 

Article about the little girl.

Video with serious justice porn credit.

Low carb Banana Muffins

 

Ingredients

 For coconut flour:

2-3 ripe, mashed bananas
1/3 c butter, melted
6 eggs
2 tbsp honey
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 c coconut flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp cinnamon
1/3 c nuts (optional)
(or)


 If you use almond flour instead of coconut flour:


2-3 ripe, mashed bananas
1/3 c butter, melted
4 eggs
2 tbsp honey
1 tsp vanilla
2 c almond flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp cinnamon
1/3 c nuts (optional)

Directions

Combine bananas and melted butter. Mix well. Add eggs, honey, and vanilla and whisk until eggs are combined.

In separate bowl stir together dry ingredients. Add to wet ingredients. Add nuts if using and stir in.

Transfer batter to greased loaf pan and bake at 350 for 45 minutes or until toothpick inserted in middle comes out clean.  Mini muffins cook in about 15-20 minutes.

Serving Size: makes 1 loaf or about 29 mini-muffins.

Number of Servings: 8

Note: If you replace the coconut flour with almond, use 2 cups of flour and take out two of the eggs.

My Banana Blueberry Walnut Recipe From My Mother

Banana bread

2 1/2 C flour

1 C sugar

3 1/2  tsp baking powder 

1 tsp salt

3 Tbsp salad oil.  

3/4 C milk

1 egg

1 C mashed banana 

1 C oatmeal or nuts

(optional: add cup of blueberries)

350 degrees

Grease and dust flour on pans

55-65 for loaf /15-20 for mini muffins

Topping: 1/3 cup Brown sugar,  2 tbsp flour,  1/8 tsp  cinnamon, mix in one tbsp of butter.

1.  Mix all dry ingredients (first 4)

2. Mix in all wet.  Moosh bananas up a little first. 

3. If you make the topping, pat it down into the bread mixture so it won't just crumble off as the bread rises.

4. Mini muffins cook in 15-20 mins, loafs 45-60 mins.  

To be honest I doubled the recipe and haphazardly threw in about 1.5 C banana, at least a cup of blueberries, and a cup of walnuts...recipe is very forgiving, original didn't even call for the blueberries but you'd never tell.

If out of milk, slightly watered yogurt works too.  I've done that and no 

one noticed.  I learned that from a professional baker.

Billionaire Plan

 

Most of us have one, I presume… you hear about the giant amount of money in whatever lottery… the one you probably don’t even buy a ticket for because you know the odds.  But I know I’m not alone in daydreaming about what I’d do.

For some reason, my “obvious first choice” is made fun of a lot.  I think it must be related to the things I have stress about, it just seems like the thing you have to do first and get it out of the way:  Mortgages.  Yes, suspending for the moment the idea that I’d simply move, mortgages are my first item on the list.  Mine, my siblings, my husband’s family, and then some of my extended family.  Yeah, I know, “some of my extended family” may cause some issue, but what can I say – I’m close to my dad’s sister’s extended family.  I’m not nearly so close with my Mom’s siblings’ kids, but there are certainly a few of them that I am.  My closest friends.  Either in getting started with that giant downpayment (as in, most of it), or paying off the one they have.  And I guess a little trust fund for whatever surprises arise from house ownership that weren’t foreseen, I don’t want this to turn into an Oprah car give away where the taxes surprise anyone.

Yes, I’m assuming I have enough that this is all possible.

Once that crap is out of the way…

ON TO THE IMPORTANT STUFF!!!  I will be known as the shady zoo dealer.  “Soo… you want a new gorilla enclosure?  How about I make that happen, but… you let me frolic with baby red pandas?”   

 Oh that’s right, your cute little penguin habitat comes at a cost.  I get to tickle their bellies and feed them fish.

What, you say? Your leopard just had kittens?  PERFECT!!  I’ll be there, holding the full bellied little bundles, while they break ground on that giant aviary you were hoping to start.  All zoo donations… be prepared to anti up some one on one time with your friendliest fuzzy and/or delightful beasts.

Then it’s on to the travel.  Galapagos, Madagascar, Australia, New Zealand, here I come.  You all house critters that get top billing for “ONLY HERE!”  I’ll be slumming it with Lonesome George, the only Giant Tortoise left, and comparing E.T. fingers with Aye-Ayes in Madagascar.  Then we’ll be on to some Koala cuddling, maybe some kiwi chasing, some platypus admiring.  

The Ultimate Forever Alone, last Giant Tortoise in the world.

My billionaire plan is apparently pretty boring.  Yeah, maybe I’d buy a new house, but nothing crazy.  Just one with one of those kitchen islands in it, I like those.  It’d have a nice floor plan for entertaining, and would most likely be on a larger plot of land – not for a huge house – but for chickens, maybe a donkey, some fainting goats.  I don’t want to be so far away from the things I like that I’d feel isolated.  I still wouldn’t like golf, investment bankers would still annoy the fuck out of me, and I still wouldn’t eat foie gras.  The tortoises would get a bigger enclosure, and maybe I’d have part of the yard caged in so that the indoor only kitties could sit outside safely. 

And probably for like the first year or so, I’d have sushi every day.  (Monterrey Bay Aquarium approved sushi!!).   

EDIT: when this was written, Lonesome George was still with us. :(  Sigh.

Connie Willis Should Be Imprisoned If She Ever Tries To Write Again

Doomsday Book, by Connie Willis

If you’re only going to read one book this year… Make sure this one is simply on hand in case you run out of toilet paper.  Because it’s long enough that you won’t run out any time soon, AND ITS GOING TO IRRITATE YOUR ASS it’s so terrible.

This book won a Nebula and Hugo award.  Oh swoon, right? OMG this must be awesome, right???  Well, no… it got about 48 1 star Amazon reviews and 57 2 star reviews, (contrasted with 270 5 star reviews, a bunch of wantonly stupid morons banding together and using crayon to write reviews, most likely).  I just don’t know if I have it in me to fully express how bad this book was. 

Let me start by setting the scene:  the only vaguely science-fictiony thing is attempting to take place, where some guy mans a console and a history student, in “authentic clothes” sits among already damaged crap so that when she’s sent back in time to a bit before the black plague, she’ll appear to be a high born woman attacked on the road, deserted by her help with a nasty bonk to her noggin from her contrived robbers.  The console man will be attempting to send her through.  In what can only be described as the “Crying Room” found in any church, a bunch of hen pecking, annoying as fuck scientists all talk over each other and do a terrible Acting 101 soliloquy in which they listen to no one and repeat themselves like some contemporary art performance where their next feat will be to pull a 10 foot poem out of their collective vaginas.  (That happened:  http://www.caroleeschneemann.com/interiorscroll.html)  Seriously, the book would have taken such a turn for the better if they read to each other from scrolls yanked out of each others’ twats. 

Okay, so what you want me to say is this: predictably, something goes wrong sending her back; despite the fact that ‘no viruses can get through the net,’ you as the reader are aware that the student went through and got flu-like symptoms pretty bad.  The scientists that were squabbling about nothing interesting (and not actually talking to each other anyway) go get a beer to wait for the “fix,” when console-man says “hey, I got a fix on her, we’re all good!” only… he shows up discombobulated to the pub, says “something went wrong… I got the fix…but…” runs off back to the console across the street and when they all get there, he never finishes his sentence but passes out ill.   And thus this amazing tension of OMG WHAT ILLNESS WHAT WHAT OMG OMG. The console man got very sick… panic and quarantine, AND A CAPER!!! Eh, why make it interesting, though?   

Buuuut… that’s not quite what happened.  I mean, it is, if you cut 300 pages out of the book.  In the first 200 pages, all that happens is they send the girl back, the guy collapses without telling them what was off about the send.  That’s it.  So far, nothing.   What DID happen 46 times in those 200 pages is they got him to say “something’s wrong…” before he’d pass out again.  Actually, he continued to say this up through page 600 out of 884, when he finally spat out more of that sentence.   

And what of the girl that was sent back?  Let’s just say it takes you oh, about… a page.. a whole page… to figure out “hmmm, yes, something IS wrong, and deducing from the fact that her ‘translator’ in her ear isn’t helping her speak the correct language, they must not have sent her to the right time!”  Honestly.  It took her half the 884 page book to realize oooOOOOoooh…they can’t understand me because I’M IN THE WRONG TIME!  Oh for Fucking Stab Your Eyes Out, could you really not figure this out??  She’s sick and delirious and OMG what an amazing historical novel, we’re seeing how they care for the sick and dying in the 1300s!  We’re witnessing the Black Plague all around her!!  Yes, the girl actually has a recording device on her that activates when she presses her hands together like she’s praying… so OF COURSE for science, she will occasionally document specifics.  Like… “I hear a rat gnawing under my bed.” 

Okay, so first of all… this book is touted as a historical masterpiece.  I am no expert on the 1300s.  but… UNDER YOUR BED?  Under?  What, where your cute little Tupperware tubs are filled with sweaters from last season?  WTF UNDER YOUR BED IT”S A PILE OF STRAW YOU FUCKING IDIOT CUNT.  I mean, seriously, didn’t the 1800s still have really shitty mattresses for poor people?  Under her bed?  COME ON.   I did ONE FUCKING GOOGLE SEARCH and found this:  http://www.oldandinteresting.com/medieval-renaissance-beds.aspx

THAT IS IN THE FUCKING 1400s!!!!  Poor people had mattresses on the fucking floor.  What, are you going to tell me that she magically had a future bed in 1330 something?  OMFG, how is this a historical novel?  By the way, my favorite amazon review mentioned that while this is touted as being a historical fiction novel, she sources ONE LIBRARIAN in the back of the book.  One.  ONE. 

Back to my point, while I get it that student idiot girl is delirious, but we’re told over and over how she was to learn old English, French, german, latin, her cover story, etc… and ALL SHE SAYS to these people is “I NEED TO GET BACK TO THE DROP SITE TO SEE PROFESSOR FUCKFACE”  over and over and over and over and…. Where the fuck is your training?  I HOPE YOU GET THE PLAGUE.  Omg I hope she dies of the plague. 

She doesn’t, by the way.  Fucking doesn’t.  It’s unjust. 

The author finds this amazing device to set a scene… we’ll call it Shitty Writing.  She’ll take one character, and make them crawl into their own mind, spinning out of control, thinking OMG what if something went wrong? What if the send didn’t go well?  What if there’s a problem???” and then a second character, completely immune to outside signals people are putting off, just barks at them about how “you’re always trying to mess up my experiments! You don’t respect me as a professor! Any mistake here is your fault!”  Now, these EXACT two sentiments… down to EXACTLY REPEATED SENTENCES will repeat for 8 pages.  One paragraph, inner soliloquy.  Next, berating asshole moron complaining without listening.  Soliloquy.  Barking.  Soliloquy.  Barking.  If at any one point in 1000 times this occurred, the person being barked at said “HEY.  STFU.” And then maybe answered them, the conversation would be over and not have to be repeated 8 million times, but no such luck.

You ever read a word in a book, and it's such a unique word, that you totally notice when the author uses it again?  I don't know if it's a british thing, but he never "dials" a phone, he punches it.  He punched numbers 31 times in the book.  OOoh, and my personal favorite, Rummage.  In the beginning of the book, one of the scientists waiting in the crying room has a "shopping bag," which is mentioned no less than 20 times in the first 150 pages... 32 times in the book.  But... this woman is constantly rummaging through this bag or some other bag, and rummaging is a word used 5 times on one page early on.  HOLY FUCK lady!  STOP RUMMAGING.  It's like the only way she builds tension into a scene.  She literally has someone talk at her, then in response she rummages.  So that person repeats themselves SO SHE FUCKING RUMMAGES SOME MORE oh come on!

But that’s not all.  This book, set in the future, spends much of it’s time with busy signals.  Yes, that’s right, pull that memory out of the back of your mind, the most annoying sound in the world, brought back to life.  The book was written in 1992, so, unfortunately the science fiction part wasn’t her strong suit, only masters like Gibson can get this one right… time travel, and no voice mail or cell phones.  EGADS.  And, every time he gets through somewhere, it’s to someone that I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP wants to update him on the toilet paper situation, and mention that some foreign guests are really pissed about being stuck in a quarantine.  The toilet paper and the grumpy guests have nothing to do with the story.  They are simply used as a device so that every time he calls this guy for info, these 2 problems will keep him from answering what he was supposed to answer, and then the call will end, with no one getting anywhere.  “Yes sir, but…the guests sir… the guests are upset”  OMG I WANT TO STAB THIS WRITER IN THE EYE SO FUCKING BADLY WHY DID I SPEND SO MUCH TIME ON THIS FUCKING BOOK.

Okay, so… remember how I mentioned the soliloquies?  Take the individuals constantly having ‘asides’ where they think the same thoughts… (I used the search feature and found whatever words in their thoughts repeated throughout the book, so I could see they thought about the same thing, but got interrupted, so they have to go back and think the same thing AGAIN), failed phone conversations, and the sick console man who keeps saying “SOMETHING WENT WRONG…” and you have a broadway musical number:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_KXx80zm-d0  Yes, it’s as easy to read as it is to stomach a high school rendition of that cacophonous medley. 

Fuck, I feel some of the fight drifting out of me.  My sister recommended this book, and I so wanted to like it so we could chat about it… but I am just so angry these words were allowed to be printed on a page!  It aggravates me!  From the beginning of the book, we know something went wrong about sending her back, but the guy who wants to tell you what happened gets sick… he says something went wrong 129 times BEFORE HE SAYS WHAT WENT WRONG by page 600.  By page 400, student girl finally figures out she must have been sent to the wrong time, and that’s why her translator won’t work.  By the end of the book you realize none of it matters.  At least, that’s what the shitty reviews on Amazon say, because I can’t be bothered to read any further. 

I recommend reading Amazon’s 1 star reviews, they’re written far better than the book and they tell a much better story. 

My Opinion Isn't Worth Shit

This ad speaks to me… it says… together…we’re gonna make a shit ton of money!!! Well, not really.  But I imagine that’s what an ad would say to me, if I were the spokesperson looking out from it.  Though I guess that’s not really correct, either.  Once you’re in the ad, you got paid already.  You did your job… it’s the people using ads to self-promote that are the ones crossing their fingers, they’re the ones with something to lose.

I get really tired of stupid people confusing 1^st amendment rights with advertising revenue.  Or even 1^st Amendment rights with business decisions.  They’re just not the same fucking thing, and you look like an idiot when you overlook that.  You can say what the hell you want whenever wherever…unless you’re in someone’s employ, where something you said could affect the corporate brand.  Money talks far louder than anyone’s concerns about your stupid opinions.

Here’s an easy example.  You have the right to call someone a “nappy headed ho.”  You don’t have the right to expect advertisers to want to pay for you to say it, if negative publicity about such a comment splashes over into their end of the pool.  And more importantly, your employers have the right to define their own brand, too.  They might look at the outcry and throw you under the bus because, short sided or not, it earns them goodwill/money.  Or, most likely, they take the long sided route and “fire” you for 3-4 days, and hire you back when the angry mob got distracted by some other shiny object.  It’s not about your 1^st Amendment right anymore, it’s about their bottom dollar.  Totally different things.

I have a friend that gets really pissed off when a celebrity is forced to apologize for something they said.  For the most part, I completely agree with her: they’re not being paid or employed by someone that might have to do damage control over it, right?  People should be allowed to hold onto whatever opinions they want, right?    

But it’s not like someone put a gun to their heads to apologize, so… my sympathy only goes so far.  Think about it.  They don’t have to apologize.  Fuck that.  Whatshisface Kramer could have just forged right ahead with his n-word flinging fail, and been unapologetic about it.  Who cares?  He didn’t say anything illegal… You know who cares? He fucking cares.  And this is why I’m not sympathetic to the celebrity that is “forced to apologize.”  The dumbfuck realized that with the viral nature of the interwebz, his stand-up bomb wasn’t just a passing review by a bored critic… he got mad at the crowd, and the crowd fucking memorialized his failure for all time.  Oooh, that stung a little, didn’t it Kramer?  Is THAT why you apologized?  Did that hurt the ol’ image… I mean pocketbook?

Fuck that, celebrities aren’t forced to say shit.  They just realized that the number of people backing them and whatever dumb shit they said don’t equal enough fans for them to continue with the lifestyle they have grown so accustomed to expect.  “I could just tell them to suck it up… or… I could try to win back over the public so that I can actually sell enough tickets to my next gig…”  Because a celebrity is their own brand.  They are their own advertiser and employer, and they are only too well aware that their marketability may have its limitations.  Age, relevance, talent… these qualities are all pretty fleeting (if present at all) and may give out if the public turns on them.  No one forced Oprah to apologize to the beef people, but in her branding wizardry, she found a way to turn the whole thing into some goodwill avalanche of actual cash right back into her empire. 

The whole thing sways on public opinion.  20 years ago, there’d be some angry letter campaigns and phone calls, and that was the main way the public communicated their anger.  Now?  Fuck letters, who the fuck cares that you can still write in cursive… now it’s twitter, facebook, blogs, and comment sections on articles… people’s opinions are so much more visible… you couldn’t see that 20,000 had written letters, but HOLY FUCK IT’S NOW A TRENDING TOPIC ZOMG PAY ATTENTION!  I think public opinion, with its power, visibility, and appetite, is pretty awesome.  And not because I think mob mentality usually has something coherent or intelligent to say, I don’t – it’s usually a drooling, stupid flatulence of a sentiment that we could really do without.  I like it because it’s this awkward phenomena of little people all realizing they can squawk about something and be get heard.  Corporate entities have to have whole Public Relations departments prepared 24/7 to react… imagine that… you’re on call at any moment to respond to some rage campaign on twitter that has decided you support skinning baby kangaroos for a hobby, forcing you to do a bunch of positive ad campaigns with you shaking hands with a perfectly fuzzy baby kangaroo. 

And just the same, that public outcry informs you about what kind of opinions are out there.  The Million Moms, all 40,000 of them or so, has let us know how much they hate gaywear, and how they won’t shop at JC Penney now that they’ve endorsed that militant gay Ellen.  And now, everyone else knows how they feel, and can form their own opinion about how they feel about the Million Moms.  Well, at least about gay apparel, they don’t really tell you much else about themselves, other than they presumably would not make out with me at a party so I’m sort of over them.   I’m curious to know how much support JCP received… because it was either such an overwhelming amount that they made the obvious choice of goodwill with the larger customer base, or, JC Penney decided they had the better of the two arguments and decided to stand by their guns in hopes society would grow up a little.  Of course, there could be a third option; JC Penney is a little strapped for cash, and already paid Ellen the endorsement money…maybe they don’t have the cash to start from scratch so they figure they’ll take the hit, use the advertising campaign, and go with something more banal the next round, something with little baby kangaroos in jackets.  I have my money on the first one, but you just never know.  I know I’ve certainly used something illfitting or illsuited because I already paid money for it and couldn’t return it. 

The downside of course, is the same upside.  It’s a stupid angry mob.  And like most stupid angry mobs, a group out there, somewhere, somehow, can and has figured out how easy it is to make an angry mob do their bidding.  (Stand behind it, tap it on the shoulder so it turns that direction, shove.)  Throw some political money at a small organization with a REALLY LOUD FUCKING WHINE and suddenly you can mimicry public outcry of millions with only a few thousands.  That’s not a bunch of people voicing an opinion, that’s a political machine focusing those dumb little mob-cogs all together like a desperate Who-Ville cry to be heard.  We are less informed about what the little individuals really want, and more informed about what their political organization of a brain needs them to think.  But hey, no one's paying me to have an opinion, so what do I know. 

Alcatraz Awakes from 1963; Has Not Yet Searched for New Apartment

The dreaded television slump.  Because of you, during that deluge of emptiness, we’re willing to add all sorts of stuff to our queue once shows start again, as a reactionary attempt to not suffer through the drought again.  Sure, we might watch a lot of tv… but if you’re not huge into a lot of reality TV, and not a fan of network sitcoms, there’s not always a ton of stuff out there.

And that’s what led us to watch Alcatraz.

On the outset, you know they’re throwing old Lost fans a bone.  It has Hurley, an island, a mystery, and some cagey behind the scenes guys who operate outside of the mainstream.  It’s not spectacular, but it fills space.  It’s entertaining, every week focusing on a simple crime investigation of yet another old Alcatraz prisoner, reappearing inexplicably the same age as they were in 1963, hell bent on doing the same stupid shit that got them there in the first place. 

It’s missable.  It’s passable.  It’s nothing to write home about.  But… being as though I used to live in San Francisco, and in fact, on the “other” rock, Treasure Island (half real island half landfill, looked out onto Alcatraz from the same section of the bay), there’s always that appeal based on familiarity. 

And here’s why it sucks.  WTF DO YOU MEAN THE HOUSE HE GREW UP IN IS STILL FUCKING ABANDONED, DO YOU HAVE ANY CLUE WHAT PROPERTY VALUES ARE AROUND HERE????

Yeah.  Some fuckwad that got himself thrown in prison in the 1960’s is not going to have the chance in 2012 to wander back into his childhood home complete with torn wallpaper and cutesy Fallout-esque pastille candy tins on the shelves.  You claim he lives in Daly City? Still a no-go.  Land costs too much to go sitting around, like that abandoned school or hospital.  At this point it’d be a bad restaurant location that got sold every 9 months with a few dismal apartments above it that charged extra because it was walking distance from a BART station. 

I like that they had episodes taking them to Walnut Creek or other surrounding areas, and that they don’t do stupid shit like “ooh, let’s drive to Marin” and show footage of them driving the toll direction on the Golden Gate, back into the city.  These things annoy the shit out of locals.  Like that terrible 2000 movie Boys and Girls (with Jason Biggs and that weird looking girl you can never remember her name), where they drove back and forth over the Golden Gate Bridge, NEVER GOING THE RIGHT DIRECTION.  Fucking irritating. 

I suppose that isn’t my biggest criticism of Alcatraz, it’s an okay show, it tries hard to have an over-arching mystery stringing them all together which only occasionally outweighs the fatigue of generic detective show from episode to episode.  And sometimes it tries too hard for that, and really, it’s just an episode of Charlie’s Angels without the cool synthesizer music during chase scenes. 

I can suspend a lot of belief, but unoccupied real estate in San Francisco area…not a chance.    

Modern Advancements Are Making Us Weak!!

A few hundred years ago, necessity was a fucking awesome motivator, for inventions that actually made a huge difference in our every day lives.  Early settlers in this country were doing shit the hard way.  Outhouses, butter churning, fuck, forget about refrigeration.  Salted meat and a fucking huge bonus to the whole inventors of canning (the French military! Who knew!!).   Sure, a lot of inventions were dependent upon progressing technology/electricity, but the difference between having and not having could actually be measured in days.  Weeks.  The amount of work one had to do before said invention.  Or, I suppose in some instances, you just went without.  

She's old and tired and sure as fuck not going to 

teach you how to do this.

I do actually think about these things more often than I should, especially when I think about the likely Zombocalypse, what skills we’re all going to need to survive.  And if you’re one of those “zombies will never happen” naysayers, then fine, in the event of an outbreak that kills 99.99% of the population, there, are you happy, Mr. Buzzkill?  You know who you are.   At least with an outbreak, the chances of outliving it exist.  With zombies it’s all just a nail biting matter of time unless we can figure out what it takes to make them starve.

Back to my point, when’s the last time you heard someone say, “I’m a blacksmith!”  “I know how to forge!”  “Hey, I can totally figure out where to start a quarry!”  “OMG, cheese?  Yeah, like I can totally do that without making everyone sick!”  “If the plumbing stopped working?  Yes, I could totally make a pump and I know where to find the right chemicals to make an outhouse something other than a festering bacteria filled germ pile!”  And hell, these are just some of the basic luxuries that I think would be the hardest to let go.

"I bet I'm looking pretty sexy to you right now, what with you needing my skills and all..."

And that’s the rub, isn’t it?  If the world as we know it ended tomorrow, what are you going to struggle not to give up?  Certainly eating has to be high up on that list… but just like the unhelpful phrase “I vow to lose weight!” unless you outline how you’re going to do that, it’s not enough.  Sure, foraging… breaking into the houses of the dead, because THAT will most likely occupy a lot of time… but eventually… All the inventions in the world aren’t going to suddenly teach you what you’d need to rebuild.  All this invention around us, making it easy for us to buy food and survive, and we know dick squat about animal husbandry, agriculture, carpentry, plumbing, irrigation, forging, making tools… (yeah, I know some of you have a few of those skills, but how many of us have packed our own bullets???)

There’s a lot to making your every day familiar, and still a lot to making it remotely livable.  I know what you’re thinking, we’ll be able to get into these facilities and keep shit going.  Like The Stand, we’ll figure out how to get Denver’s electricity up and running again, only we’ll have do-gooders on hand to go turn it on and not charge us for it!  Yeah, because there’s no way a power plant employs dozens of people with some sort of training or important job duties that make all of it happen safely, hell, there’s no way one of those pipeswould just accidentally explode, right?    And we’ll maintain indoor plumbing!  You think someone’s going to decide their number one job is to head down to the sanitation department and make sure shit is getting properly processed?  That process most likely requires chemicals that didn’t originate in that spot.  Someone delivered them.  Someone, who would most likely be dead/living dead.  All of that amazing technology, and it’s going to come down to heinous sewage, drinking water, decomposing non-survivors, a resurgence of natural predators (zombie or mountain lion, you pick).  Everything that is so easy now is going to suddenly be a monumental task.

Like it or not, current inventions won’t be any help after the apocalypse.  They’ll be way too technological for the basic needs we’ll have once the world falls apart.  Who’s going to need a heart surgery splint when all the doctors who know what to do with it are dead?  And the flip side of current inventions, the As Seen On TV variety, those are going to be part of a distant past where all we worried about was making our cush, First World Problem lives even that much more cush.  Omg! Every brownie is a side brownie!  I can strain pasta!  I no longer have to chew my food, thanks to the magic bullet food processor!  My Stopdrop™ is just a sand filled tube that keeps shit from falling between my car’s driver’s seat and center console…but if an apocalypse hits, and I can’t maintain the car or the gas… wtf is that going to be useful for?  NOTHING.

And the danger in all this is that we no longer have an understanding of the simple things we use every day, let alone the crazy cutting edge things.  We’ve crested a hill.  We’ve gone from the every day innovations that make life easier like indoor plumbing, water heaters, and mattresses that weren’t made out of straw, to developments that require specialized knowledge to refine the technology we have.  The average person can schedule a program in a DVR, but has zero survival skills to survive any -pocalypse, zombie or viral!  Sure, some people have random awesome skills, like that kick ass show, The Colony, where that pansy-ass metal working artist actually had this incredible viable skill and helped them make a forge and solder shit and all sorts of crazy awesome inventions in their little survival community.  Ugh, all the shit that would have to be done on a daily basis to survive; foraging, hunting, purifying water… you’d have to work as a group, AND THAT WOULD TOTALLY SUCK. 

We’ll be forced to gather together like  a group of MTV’s Real World survivors: hunters, metal workers, carpenters… naturalists to tell you what the fuck was poisonous… you’d better hope your back doesn’t go out, because chances are you’re going to be a worker ant, not a foreman. 

Douglas Adams was right, we’re all going to die from the germs spread on public pay phones. 

...It's Just That I Judge A Kid Like Anyone, And I Don't Like Just Anyone PART 2

 

The presumption that all kids are great or all kids are terrible is as inaccurate as saying the same thing about people.  Though, depending on mood, sometimes those can be true too… sometimes we really do just hate everyone.  I will jokingly say that I like animals, I hate people.  I will further say, to simplify things, that I hate kids.  The first statement has a lot more truth to it than the second one.   I instantly like most animals, because hey, they’re often so busy doing silly animally things, they have little purposeful lives of seemingly important things to do (hey, survival is no joke) and them doing their little jobs of stealing food or taking a bath, well, I find downright adorable.  Perhaps being a People, I don’t think we’re nearly so cute doing the same things.  I mean, FUCK, people, is it so hard to have a proper bath sometime recent BEFORE you get on the treadmill next to me at the gym?  Must I breathe in that level of mustiness? Yikes.  Even animals fucking bathe, you hobo.

Saying I hate kids, well, it’s an exaggeration.  It’s easier than saying I specifically hate irritating, tantrum throwing, over indulged, poor mannered, selfish, whiny, screaming, smelly, dirty, lazy, dull, annoying children.  Kids that stay on repeat and throw things and scream to be heard over you. Kids unfamiliar with being told no, or having to handle consequence.  Kids that do their best to be annoying because, like a poorly trained dog, any attention is good attention.  Can’t stand them.  I feel my tubal ligation scar tingle when I’m around them, an overwhelming urge to drink, and usually get an instant headache.  I’m not a fan of that.  So, yes, put simply, I hate kids, when kid is defined as the above underlined.  And to be even more specific, it’s not even always just a “hate” that’s happening, it’s that I’m not built to find any of that cute, nor to have patience for it.  It gives me an instant headache.  Honestly, who lies and says they like stuff that instantly gives them a headache and makes them want to punch a wall?     

I once had a 5 hour flight in a predominantly muslim, conservative country with a first born male lap child seated behind me...who screamed, hit his mother, and kicked my chair the ENTIRE five hours.  I watched as that woman was literally helpless to shut that little fuck up, all she could do was yell at her daughter to behave.  Yeah.  Sounds fair.  That kid? That kid was an asshole.  And maybe so was the dad for not giving her the go ahead to smack the Family Heir for being a little jerk. I'm pretty sure fear of whatever local laws existed kept me from snapping. 

Everything about this sets my teeth on edge.

First of all, I have a lot of nieces and nephews.  I like them all based on principle, they are “my people.” You know, we're from the same village.  They are being steeped in the things of my childhood, and I "get" them. When I have good friends, and they have kids, their kids will most likely fall into that same category.  I don't mean to make it sound like a bigoted conservative who says "I have gay friends!" but I do actually know quite a few kids that I think are pretty awesome.   I have found it is about 70-80% compulsory that I will love and adore those kids.  The attachment I have to their parents can't be the only hook, but I realize it's a significant part of it.  However… there’s a 20-30% chance that compulsory or not, I will realize that there’s just something about that kid that… hmmm… not a fan.  And this got me thinking… to be honest, that 20-30% could just as easily refer to the number of friends or family that for one reason or another, I am not always excited about sharing their company, either.  Maybe that connection gives them a leg up, but when it comes down to it, an douchebag is still a douchebag whether they're related to you or not, and whether they're 5 or 45.

It seems like such a taboo thing to dislike a specific kid.  It’s simply obnoxious when I say, hyperbolically, that I hate kids.  But it feels somewhat uncomfortable to say I hate THAT kid.  Maybe hate is too strong a word… ‘do not care for’ fits a lot better, but still makes me feel sort of rotten for admitting it.  I mean, what did that kid do to me? Other than demonstrate in action his parents' utter lack of attention for making that kid a civil, decent human being...

I don’t hate kids on principle any more than I hate anyone on principle, which is to say, not much, or maybe a lot, depending on my mood and the circumstance.  When I’m out and about, I could care less about the people around me.  I actually enjoy people watching.  When I’m at Costco (or Sam’s Club for you people further east, or Giant Wholesale Market for those outside the U.S.), when it’s crowded full of stupid fucking people that bring 3 generations of useless human beings to shop, push the carts in a different direction than where they’re eyes are looking so they crash into you and generally just take up space that would be better used as landfill… yeah, I hate people pretty fucking out loud. You don't need 7 kids with you.  They wander off.  Hell, in the parking lot, you have so many kids you don't even seem to notice when one wanders into traffic.  I guess you'll still have 6 so who cares, right?

I’ve begun to notice something, though.  Really, dumb phrase or not, kids are people too.  And we have no hesitation to admit when an adult rubs us the wrong way.  That guy is stupid, that woman is vapid, her friends are kind of stuck up, all that guy does is complain, that guy is rude to waiters, she’s just kind of… boring.  There is someone, somewhere, that hey – maybe you don’t hate them – but you have nothing in common with them, or find whatever their interests, sense of humor, or habits kind of off putting.  It happens!  We’re programmed to find and surround ourselves with people we like!!

Why are kids any different?

I have a group of friends that in all seriousness, I’m glad to be counted among them.  They’re all extremely smart, clever, interesting, creative.  As it turns out, as they have all started to have kids, they’re kids are like mini-versions of their parents.  They reflect everything that’s awesome about their parents, it’s like seeing brand new shiny soft versions of my friends that are still growing into their unique angles.  

Now this kid appears to have some personality.

Aaaaand then I have friends that while I adore, perhaps they’re my friends for one big area we have in common, and then we differ on a lot.  Or jwe're friends with them, but their spouse is just one of those things that comes with the relationship, not quite an option I’d have chosen if I had a choice.  Or it’s the a family member I don’t always mesh with very well.  What about those kids?  I’ve discovered in one such friendship that the little darling is becoming the spitting image of the spouse.  In fact, so much so, that you know what?  I really don’t like the kid all that much.  Reminds me of the spouse.  The kid is annoying, rude, obnoxious, and is one of those kids who finds herself so amusing and believes she must be adorable when acting out that I hate her even more. 

You can’t expect a kid at that super young age to reflect a personality completely outside his limited experience.  There are some people that are just so fucking irritating, how could they possibly have a child that rises above it at the ripe ol age of 3?  Hell, I even have some adult friends that, after meeting their parents, I now get where their terrible, not-funny jokes come from and their really annoying habits.  Dear ol mom and dad.  From an old person, it can be kinda endearing… "oh god… he’s telling jokes again…” From someone your age, it’s something that should have been beaten out of you on the playground.  Oh fuck, I think our friendship will finally be able to die if they have kids, I could not handle a room with 3 generations all asking me if it’s “hot enough for ya??”  Oh god no.

It’s taken me a while to come to grips with it, there are just certain kids that I don’t like that much.  And unfortunately for the kid, it appears to have a lot to do with how they were raised, or at least by whom…because even somewhat annoying kids raised by people I adore… I seem to give a lot more wiggle room too, and have some sort of giant cognitive dissonance that whatever behavior isn’t bad when coming from THIS kid, it’s just an off day… but put a smirk on that other kid, and I’m just certain he’s being smug on purpose, that rotten little brat.  

Notice the emblems on his shirt? Classy!!

But I suppose there’s still hope.  I can certainly think of a few people that I got off on the wrong foot when I first met them, and they grew on me.  And as far as kids being people too, I suppose the adults I liked most when I was little were the ones that treated me like an adult.  It's just the moment a kid starts to be a little jerk, it's soooo hard not to start flipping through my roladex of  “why I chose not to have any” reasons.  With most people, if they annoy you you can decide to avoid them.  If it's someone's kid that drives you nuts... well, I suppose the hope is the bond with the parent is enough to make it through those rough years and just hope the kid grows into a nicer person.

It's Not That I Hate Kids... PART 1

I know a lot of people with kids, but not having any of my own, I admit that can limit what I have in common depending on the person. 

Having hung out with some of my friends while they had a baby sitter, I noticed two things.  One, we had a great time, conversation was uber enjoyable, and the evening was a lot of fun.  Two, they made a big effort to avoid talking about their kids.  I suppose they’re on to something… we really didn’t talk about their kids, but… is this such a bad thing?  Well, I mean, to some degree?  Stick with me.

Usually you have friends that fall into different categories –work friends, family friends, sports friends, shopping friends, whatever.  You either met or fostered the connection based on some commonality.   I know plenty of people that when you ask, “how did you meet X?” will say from a Mommy’s club or as parents of kids in the same school/activity.  That’s a perfectly grand way to meet people!  In fact, if it wasn’t so fucking creepy, that’s almost an ideal way to branch out and meet some people that at that point, 3-4 years into the isolation of having a new kid, are BURSTING to meet new people and use words with multiple syllables.  You have so much in common, right?  Kids going through the same type of stuff… same age… and the friendship comes enriched with the benefits of sharing carpools and playdates, each giving the other a welcomed dose of OMG NO KID FOR A FEW HOURS.   Which, of course rules out trolling for new friends there as a childfree individual, either you have no interest in watching or hanging with their kids and therefore offer none of those benefits mentioned above, or you do, and that’s just inappropriate to be so obsessed with someone else's kids.

It makes sense to talk kid-shop with other kid bearers, and the friendships have a mutual pay off that makes them invaluable, something childless friends don’t often deliver.  One could argue that if you’re prepared for it, having your own kid and throwing them at another kid almost makes watching them easier.  You become referee instead of teammate.  However, kids fight dirty, and if you miss a call the other team’s owner is going to do more than ask you if you need your eyes checked. But at least the kids might occupy each other and give the parents a moment of rest?

I don’t mean to be a bad friend, it’s not that I don’t want to know what’s going on in your life.  Especially when it matters to you.  But let’s just say, I never went on and on about the achievements I earned in a video game to my professional work friends.  Somehow I doubted they’d be impressed that I had 126 companion pets and ranked second in my guild for achievement points… just really unlikely.  Likewise, without being rude, am I really the relevant audience for potty training tales?  I can nod and smile, but let’s be honest.  If you subject me to a conversation 100% full of stories that I will either have nothing to relate to or no real interest in, what have YOU just done to our friendship?  It’s one thing to ask me to take an interest, and I DO!  At least…well, I suppose non-parents have a lower tolerance for biological waste type stories… But it’s another to expect someone to develop an unnatural interest in something that is completely irrelevant to them, ie, child rearing.  Think about it – I made a serious life decision, getting my tubes tied.  I chose to specifically not lead the life that has some of those issues.  I’m not trying to be an ass about it, I'm not.  Really.  But you and I both know that there comes a sphere of problems where I'm a bad friend because I probably don't know how it is, and...to be honest, I enjoy not having to know.  Not that I won't take enjoyment hearing stories about it, I just... I guess there's no easier way to say it.  All those stories that make parents feel at the end of their rope, secretly, inwardly, stack up in the "why I didn't have them" column.   *sips coffee on quiet morning*

It might sound rude, but…it’s honest.  It’s not like someone put a gun to my head and said YOU CAN ONLY SEE ONE OF THESE TWO AWESOME MOVIES WHICH IS IT??? And I was terrified and I chose one and I enjoyed it and it was great… but I desperately want to find someone that can tell me all about the other one that I’ll never get to see, because I feel like I missed out.  No, this was a choice… I’m interested in hearing about why YOU liked the movie, sure – you’re my friend!  But… don’t try to get me to love it like you do.  Appreciate and Want are two different things.  I appreciate that my spouse enjoys certain literature, and love to hear why.  I don't want to read it myself.

But, going to an extreme example, wouldn’t it be weird if, after having my tubes tied, I was breathless, hanging on every word of someone's childcare stories?  I nodded excitedly anticipating OMG THE DIAPER GENIE WAS FULL!! WAS IT? I BET IT WAS!!  Go on!!!  If I sat on the edge of my seat, already laughing, because I just know how terrible and comical it is when you can’t get the fucking baby wipe to untwist and you’ve got a major explosion going on.  That I just KNEW the moment you finally got little timmy ready to go out the door, he’d throw up on your suit or fill yet another diaper.  It’d be weird, plain and simple.  (I have babysat before, I am aware those stupid twisted pull ones are terrible if you've only got one free hand.)

But, onto a more difficult subject… when you find that person that talks incessantly about your kids, and that person who wants you to become their kid's best friend...well, those are two totally different issues.  The first, well, it’s just a matter of etiquette and knowing your audience to know when one topic has become exhausted or over employed.  The second…getting me to love your kid…now that one is a whole other can of worms. 

My Obsession with (Bad) Plastic Surgery

Litigation has really gotten in the way of what is otherwise an enormously gratifying past time.  There used to be two websites, www.awfulplasticsurgery.com, and it’s corollary, www.goodplasticsurgery.com.  They were well organized sites, you could go by what were essentially dated blog entry scrolling, or you could look up specific people alphabetically.  I think even lovers of the website occasionally sent in pictures to help with the search, but it was usually some side by side comparison with some pictures – some better, some awesome, some eh… could be makeup, I’m not seeing it.  I liked the blog layout, then you could see what’s most recent.  The current metamorphasis is simply the list of names which you then click on, which a bunch of irritating ads that pop over the page and get in the way.  And the list is only about 20 people long, mostly filled with people that either don’t care or don’t have their shit together enough to organize a complaint. (That’s you, Courtney Love, and nothing could save that coke nose.)  Currently the “good” version is still set up like the blog.  

But the website was AAAWWWESOME.  Now, the websites have been scaled down, moved around, and turned to crap.  They’re not nearly so gratifying.  Celebrities and their stupid lawyers are ruining what really should be some good light hearted fun.  I don’t care when someone gets plastic surgery, but I do however get really bent out of shape when it’s obvious and they’re denying it.  So what, you had something done.  You can be vague about it.  But don’t tell me you had nothing done.  I’m not an idiot.  There were several girls in my high school that all had the same bargain basement nose.  It was a slight variance on the Tori Spelling nose, I think it was the standard removing-hook-nose surgery in the 1990’s.  This pic is to show the nose, but I must comment, why post a before/after pic about her breast size when your before pic is an amorphous black shirt that shows nothing?  Seriously, I'm sure Teen Beat had a better pic to use in comparison...

 

But at least one other girl had one after high school, and it only irks me because of how much denial she is in.  She had her mother’s fairly solid potato nose – similar to Gisele Bundchen’s original nose.  I have taken the liberty of saving these pics rather than links, because these most likely won’t stay where they are forever.  Enjoy.  Yes, that really is her in the before pic. 

She rather looks like Claire Danes in the before, I think (Bundchen, not the girl from high school).  No doubt that in the before shot, she still has a smoking hot body, and I think done up all super modelly her nose might not have been so obvious.  The girl in question that I know… her second nose is so tiny and low profile, if she wears too much under eye cover up, her face very nearly disappears now, because there’s very little on it that sticks out to any degree.  When she poses next to her mom now, who still has the same nose, it’s just awkward.  And don’t get me wrong, she was pretty in the before, but the after, well, it’s drastic.

I think noses are the most often thing tweaked.  They take something sort of bulbous and Muppet feature and make it more chiseled and angular.  And hey, the end result is usually pretty good.

The things that I don’t understand, though, are the fillers, cheek/chin implants, and face lifts… your skin grows in a certain direction.  Facelifts, to my knowledge, come in at least two types – cutting around the hair line and pulling that skin tighter, and “thread” ones that sound totally gnarly where they actually attach strings to parts of you and pull it taught to another spot.  Imagine one of those strings breaking and suddenly you go stroke victim on one side.  Egads gross.   But back to skin direction… the facelift pulls aren’t in the natural direction, so as an end result, everyone gets the same eye stretch.  From Jane Fonda, to Kenny Rogers, to Bruce Jenner, they’re eyes get the same fucked up squish look that just makes the whole thing not worth the effort.

The fillers puff them the fuck up – to smooth out wrinkles – but instead they look like what happens to a corpse when it’s stuck under water – that nasty bloated look that distorts their features and rather than making them look young, makes them look like raging alcoholic fat versions of themselves that have been beaten too many times about the head and shoulders.  Not a good look. 

Filler:

Facelift:

If you go to far, you end up looking nearly exactly alike.  There’s a branch of aging Hollywood that now all look alike, and it’s creepy!

Plastic surgery can totally make a difference in some subtle way, but jesus, the moment you tip the scales from tweaking a small percentage of what you naturally have to a large chance to what is barely original face, well, you’re going to fuck things up.