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What's bugging me today?

This is totally bugging me:

This picture was in an article from Us Weekly about Taylor Swift and John Mayer possibly dating.  Which, ew, he's old enough to be her, well, older brother I guess, since he's only 12 years older than her.  Still, ew.  BUT, do you see what the caption says?  "She was so blatant!" 

What the hell is that supposed to mean?  It doesn't really explain it in the article.  All it says is they ate dinner with 8 other people and she giggled at him.  It also says that she made "sexy faces" at him when they performed together in December.  Is that what she's doing in the picture?  Making blatantly sexy faces?  Was she blatantly holding the mic like she was practicing to give John a handy backstage after the show? Was she blatantly showing off her armpits... because that's sexy?  What's up with that?

It's 7 o'clock. Do you know where my husband is?

Did I ever tell you the story of when a Salt Lake City police officer came to our house to question me about the whereabouts of my husband?  The husband to whom I had not spoken since shouting "I love you!" before slamming the door on my way to work, more than 12 hours earlier.  The husband who was not answering his work or cell phones.  The husband who owns the same make and model of car the cop was telling me had been involved in a hit-and-run accident.  Did I know where he was?  Did I know if he had any business in Bountiful (which is about 15 minutes north of our house)?  Did I know his license plate number?  Could he be mistaken for a average height woman, with long blond curly hair?

With the exception of the last question, I didn't have any answers for the police officer that day.  (And if you're wondering: Joel is a tall drink of water with short brown hair and a beard.  Nobody's confusing him with a lady.  Unless we're killing Nazi Zombies and then he's my bitch.  Just kidding!) It turned out to be some weird case of mistaken identity (note: eye witness accounts are notoriously unreliable), but for about half an hour I was convinced, CONVINCED, that my precious husband had been carjacked and was lying in a ditch somewhere between our house and work.  I called his cell phone about a million times in that 30 minutes and finally, when I heard the key turn the lock in our door, I flung the door open and I squeezed him harder than anyone has ever been squozen in the history of the world.  I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life!  Phew!

So, it's times like today when I have to think back on that day and remember how scared I was at the thought of losing him.  I have to remember how much I love him and how I'd be lost without him.  Really, I would.  I've only known him for, what, like 4 years?  And, at the risk of sounding (even more) overly schmoopy, he makes me really understand what all the fuss is about; I finally know why so many books and movies and plays and songs have been written about love.  I've never been more happy in my life, which is why my family has embraced Joel so wholeheartedly.  They can see how happy he makes me and it makes them love him because I'm not such an almighty bitch anymore.

What the Bloody?: Christmas Edition

I have been very "busy" (read: lazy) as of late and have not actually gone to any actual stores to purchase Christmas gifts. Instead, I've been getting them all from Amazon because I can get free two day shipping as I am a member of Amazon Prime.  Actually, ordering from Amazon serves two purposes: assisting me with my attempt to stay out of the mall during Christmas shopping season AND showing Joel that it was totally worth the $80 I had to shell out to become a member of Amazon Prime to begin with.  (JOEL PLEASE DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING SENTENCE: it was probably totally not worth it, but I won't be admitting that to my husband any time soon.)

Today, as I was looking for presents for my two 5-year-old nephews, I came across this little peach in the 5-7 year old TOY section:

 

You might be asking yourself, "What, pray tell, is this?"  Well, friends, this is a "Marshall Mathers Slim Shady Show Eminem Head Knocker."  This is a real thing.  Here is the link to its info on Amazon.com.

You might still be asking yourself, "Um... so, what the hell is this, exactly?"  The manufacturer says this:  "The new marshall mathers slim shady eminem bobble head knocker #2 doll by neca and is made of heavy thick resin, the eminem bobble head is highly detailed and stands 8 inches tall and is an awesome collectible! "

Ok, then.  It's a bobblehead doll of Eminem/Slim Shady.  I can see where, somewhere, there is someone who might want this item in their Christmas stocking.  Who?  Can't really say.  I can tell you who shouldn't be getting this: ANYONE WHO IS BETWEEN THE AGES OF FIVE AND SEVEN YEARS OLD.  Really, Eminem is most definitely not for children what with his constant references to drugs and sex and bitches and hos and his threatening to kill and/or rape his ex-wife and any other number of things to which children between the ages of 5 and 7 should probably not be privy.

Am I wrong?  If I was a parent and someone gave this to my 5-year-old, that person would probably leave with it shoved up their behind.  Have you ever received, or know someone who has received, a wholly inappropriate gift?  Do you think that someone would see this in the 5-7 year old toy section on Amazon and say to themselves, "Yeah, that looks like a great gift for a kindergartner!"?

Your Target Audience: Not Me.

This morning, when I was putting some change in the parking meter so I don't get yet another ticket while parked in front of my building*, I saw that someone had put some advertising crap under my windshield wiper.  Usually, I automatically throw these away because, no, I do not want to make $200,000 a month using your real estate investment software.

(*A few weeks ago I got 4 tickets in one week.  Usually at 8:09 in the morning, 2 minutes before I leave for work.  I've been pretty good about sticking a quarter in when I take Lucy down right before I leave lately, so I've been ticket free for a while.  This morning, I put money in the meter and was lucky enough to see the parking enforcement officer's face fall when she saw she couldn't give me a ticket.  It was glorious.)

This morning's advertisements stuck on my widow were for a tattoo parlor and something called the "Heaven on Earth Festival" which is being presented by Wind Walker Learning Center.  This flier exclaims "Vision and creation, awakening the concious [sic] mind!" At this festival, one will find workshops on:

• Theta and Crystal healing
• Alchemy of Quantum Mind Feng Shui
• Queer Spirit
• Drumming
• Shamanism healing
• Earth ceremonies
• Sacred sexuality
• Medicine wheel visioning
• Sacred vortex walks
• How to survive with your food storage (which I think should be a fairly short workshop in that all they will have to say is, "If you eat your food storage, you will likely survive until a giant tidal wave/glacier comes to wipe you out or a T-Rex/chupacabra comes to eat you and your family and the rest of your food storage.")
• And more

I wish there was some way that I could have told the kind people at the Wind Walker Learning Center that they shouldn't have wasted one of their fliers on me.  Even though the price of the ticket covers one night of camping, I would not be caught dead anywhere near your hippie-fest.  I can find better things to do with my time on May 23-25, like, oh, getting a root canal or cleaning my cat's litter box with my bare hands.

You see, I am no fan of the hippie.  I do agree with some of their beliefs, like peace and love, but I take SHOWERS and go to work at a JOB.  I also do not spend the better part of my Sundays in Liberty Park kicking the old hackey sack around and talking about how my chakras are totally out of alignment.  I also brush my hair on a (semi) regular basis and have never stunk of patchouli.  In short, Carrie no likey the hippies.

Plus, they say they're trying to be "eco friendly" but they've put who knows how many fliers on people's cars.  That is wasting a lot of paper!  AND the fliers don't even tell you where this thing is going to be!  It says "Wind Walker Ranch, Spring City, UT" and I'm assuming this is where it's going to take place, but it's not exactly clear from the flier. 

I think this is a pretty important detail, too, and apparently one which (surprise, surprise) the hippies have failed to recognize.  How am I supposed to go to the workshop on Queer Spirit when I don't know where it is?!?  I'm sure they probably just expect the time and location to come to people in a vision quest while they're in their Native American sweat lodge, but it would probably be helpful to put an address or something on the actual flier.  Yes, it's got the website address, but let's think about this for a second: since when do hippies use the Internet?  They DON'T.  They're hippies.

I think this festival has failure written all over it.  Poor, sad hippies.  Next time, they should probably take a workshop on the "Sacred Art of Properly Publicizing Your Event."  In the meantime, please refrain from putting your crappy fliers on my car.  I hate when I don't see them until I get in the car and then I can't reach them and have to get out of the car to take it off the windshield and I can't throw it on the ground because I don't litter so they just sit in my car until I clean it out, which everyone knows I hardly ever do.  God!  Damn hippies.

An Open Letter to Janice Min, Editor in Chief of US Magazine

Dear Ms. Min:

First let me say that I love your magazine.  I buy it almost every week.  I won't get a subscription because then I wouldn't get it until the Monday after it comes out and I can't wait that long to read it!  I would see it there on the stands every Saturday and Sunday, taunting me with its juicy stories that I couldn't read for two more days.  That would be absolute torture.  So, I've spent $3.50 every week since that weekend in 2003, when I fell in love with US after the frame-by-frame breakdown of Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me a River" video to show the readers exactly how Justin was outing Britney as a common whooore.  Man, that was awesome.

However, my feelings have started to change in the past few months.  I still look to US every week to give me the shiny, flashy, informative celebrity gossip that I have come to know and trust... but it's not the same.  This is mainly because, for some reason, you keep putting Lauren Conrad, Heidi Montag, or Spencer Pratt (or some unholy combination thereof) on the cover.  Whenever I see anything about "The Hills" or any of its "stars" on the cover of US, I refuse to buy it.

I don't want to read about how LC felt betrayed by something something something.  I DON'T CARE whether Spencer and Heidi "broke up" or if they are just "taking a break."  I wish they would break up with the human race and take a break from the EARTH because they are a complete waste of our time and attention.  What do they do that merits being on the cover of any major weekly magazine?  Let alone one that purports to write about celebrities.

As a celebrity weekly magazine, you should be focusing on celebrities.  (Using that term loosely, this would include Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie, but I'm not too happy about that, either.)  What has anyone from The Hills ever done except appear on a "reality" show about... God, what's it even about?  Lauren Conrad fake-working at a fake-job and talking about her fake-problems and her "rivalries" with a number of other people who are also taking part in this fake reality.  I mean, who really has arch-enemies?  Who?  Besides comic book superheroes, that is.  So, until Lauren Conrad is battling Heidi Montag in a death match to save the planet from horrible music videos or overpriced jersey garbage sack dresses,I don't want to hear about it!

Furthermore, I understand that you are trying to market your magazine to those youngsters who do like this show, but you shouldn't.  I am exactly the person who you want to buy your magazine.  I'm still fairly young-- I'm only 32!-- and I have loads of disposable income.  I want to buy crap from your advertisers!  Especially all of those weight-loss pills at the back of the magazine.  Those look like they work fantastically!  I can lose 40 pounds in one week?  It must be true because they printed it right there!  Sign me up!  (And THAT should make you realize that I believe anything I read.  Thus, I  am the perfect reader and you should be courting me.) 

So, please, please, please, pleeeaaaasssseee stop putting anything or anyone related to "The Hills" on the cover of your magazine.  I wouldn't begrudge you a small piece on the inside, one that I can skip over fairly easily, but ENOUGH with the cover!  I will hold you responsible if I have to gouge my eyes out because I can't stand to look at Spencer Pratt's poor attempt at a white man's 'fro one more time.  Also, we'll be sending you the bills for the mental hospital when I go nut-balls crazy because I have to see yet another story about how poor Heidi had to get plastic surgery to feel better about the fact that she was born chestily-challenged.  Seriously.

"But," you say, "we put other reality stars on the cover!  Like Tori Spelling!"  Oh, Janice.  Tori Spelling was Donna FREAKING Martin!  She deserves to be on the cover because she waited so long before she gave her precious flower to David Silver.  And she's got some skeletons in her closet what with the adultery and leaving her first husband for her current husband even though her parents spent over $1,000,000 on their wedding and she had a baby and then lost weight and now is pregnant again.  Not to mention the fact that her father was richer than God, but she couldn't seem to get a good boob job.  What's that about?  See!  That's newsworthy!

Also, I'm kind of getting annoyed with you acting like you're so above it all when you point out how the other gossip rags got it all wrong.  This is mainly with stories about Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt when you put other magazine's covers in your magazine and point out how they are sooo wrong and they just print lies, lies, lies.  It just makes you look petty.

Also also, I don't believe that Stars are just like me.  "They shop for boots!"  Well, yes, I do shop for boots, but I'm usually doing it at Payless or Big Lots and they cost a hell of a lot less than anything Lindsay Lohan is buying.  Now, if you had a picture of Lindsay Lohan eating an entire pizza in one sitting?  Then I would believe she was just like me.  Until then, please stop patronizing me.

Finally, I don't want to quit you, US magazine.  There are many places I can get my Hollywood gossip but I'm pretty loyal, so I'll stick with you, but don't push it.  Even I have my breaking point.  Here's a little advice: If you get stuck and can't find a good story, just go to Perez Hilton like everyone else.  He's bound to have something you can use.  You're welcome.

Love,
Carrie

The End of the Trend

Are you lucky enough to live in a city with a jewelry store called "The Shane Company"? If so, then you have probably heard radio commercials featuring the owner, Tom Shane. If you haven’t heard these commercials, Tom Shane’s voice is a mix between Andy Rooney (do kids these days know who Andy Rooney is?) from 60 Minutes and Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. Kind of whiny and slow, with a little nasal thrown in for good measure.

Usually, he talks about diamonds and other gems and how they take trips to Belgium or China or South America or Cleveland to impress upon the audience how much everyone at Shane Co. cares about your jewelry purchases. But, sometimes he talks about how their salespeople are not paid on commission and how this is great because there’s no high-pressure sales tactics. And it’s here where the latest commercial just went off the rails and barreled right into Crazy Town.

He starts out normally, discussing how his salespeople don’t put any pressure on you to buy your engagement ring, anniversary gift, or "I’m sorry I slept with my secretary" pendant. Great, normal Shane Co. commercial. Then he says something like, "This makes the whole atmosphere ‘chill’ because nobody gets ‘all up in your grill’ while you’re trying to decide." Jesus.

This only bugs me because I'm fairly certain that Tom Shane doesn’t look like this:

       Where can Li'l John get a grill up in this bitch?

I feel bad for him! He doesn’t know that he’s recycling slang from 2002!  He’s just saying what some "advertising professional" has told him to say, but it still made me roll my eyes. Hard enough that I think I sprained them. What’s next? Is he going to tell people to come into the Shane Co. to get their bling-bling on, fo’ shizzle? Will he start bringing out the Fly Girls to entertain us during the commercial?

I mean, sure I’ll bust out with some ghetto slang every now and again, but only when I’m hanging on the corner with my 40 and I’m pouring a little out for my homies, yo. I think it’s perfectly acceptable in that situation. But you know when it’s never acceptable? When you’re Tom Shane trying to get people to come into your store to buy diamonds. In Utah, no less, where our whites are the whitest of them all. He just sounds silly, like when any parents (or, in this case, grandparents) try to be "hip" and "down" with all the new "lingo" the kids are using these days.

Thankfully, there’s this thing called the "Internet" wherein people have made lists of all sorts of slang that would be better suited for a Shane Co. commercial. Might I suggest this dictionary of old hobo slang? If all else fails, try this or even this, if you're not too comfortable with the internet.  Or perhaps, this dictionary of slang used in the U.K., which might not be understood by many Americans, but at least you wouldn’t be trying to sound like you were on Pimp My Ride or something.

So, R.I.P. "all up in my grill" because, in my opinion, you are officially over.

Hate Couture

Now, I can't do what these girls do as well as they do, so I won't even try.  But I saw something yesterday that just made me scratch my head (after I got done banging it against the wall) and I wanted to see if it was just me.  The reason for my confusion, lo these many years, is how Chloe Sevigny has attained some sort of fashion icon status. 

As an actress, she is great; I love her in Big Love.  That's an awesome show and she is pretty good in it.  But... have you seen how she dresses herself when she's out in the real world?  It's not good, you guys.  And now she's designing for a company called Opening Ceremony.  You can find the entire collection here. Please find below the exhibits in my prosecution of Chloe's crimes against fashion:

Exhibit 1:

Ok, so, here she appears to be wearing some sort of turban?  I don't know.  It looks to me like she might be indicating, through her pose, that this is swimwear.  Is it some kind of swim-cap and old time-ey bathing suit?  Who can say?  I will say this, though, I do love those shoes.  They are c-u-t-e.

In any case, I wasn't really sure what the hell this was until I saw another photo of it later on in the look book, and then it all made sense.

Oh, ok.  Um.  They're some sort of Lycra short-alls?  Accessorized with... a belt and a turban.  Yes, well, this does make sense in that it doesn't make any sort of sense at all.  That is the magic of Chloe. 

But this is not all!  Nooooo!  There is more.  So much more that I don't even think I'll be able to fit it all here because my head would go boom.

Exhibit 2:

Here we find Chloe doing some kind of crazy cha-cha, because isn't that the only kind of cha-cha she could do?  A crazy one?  Is this formal wear?  If not, why the bow tie?

I'm sorry about all of the questions, but looking at this stuff just leaves me bewildered.  Does she expect people to wear this?  In a few months, will I see people showing up at the grocery store looking like some kind of deranged maitre d'?

And what's with those shoes?  I think I had a pair like that in the 8th grade.  What?  I went through a ill-advised Stray Cats period.  Stop looking at me like that!  Like you weren't doing the Stray Cat Strut your own self.  No?  Jeebus, I was lame.

Exhibit 3: 

To your right, please find the next example of why Chloe rules.  What the hell?  There are people who act like she is some kind of Fashion Savior come to Earth to save us from eternal damnation and banishment to the bowels of hell, forced to wear clothes from Wal*Mart forever and ever, Amen. And from what I can see, that reputation is well deserved, no?

I mean, who doesn't want to wear a spaghetti-strap bustier and completely mismatching skin-tight, high-waisted pants?  AND, clompy wedge lace-up ankle boot things!  Those are the shoe-cherries on top of this crap sundae!  Not that I can really say whether there are any shoes that would look acceptable with this.  I just... don't think there are, really, so we're just going to move on.

Exhibit 4:

Again with the dancing.  Is she trying to get me to pull a Footloose and ban all dancing from occurring in this county?  Because I'll do it, Chloe!

And that skirt is so short!  I'm usually not a prude or anything, but that's taking it a bit too far, I think.  Is she wearing spanky pants under there?  She's like one Herkie away from flashing her lady parts to everyone here on the interwebs.  Not that it hasn't been done before, but... just, no, Chloe. 

And, please, won't somebody think of the children?!?  I wouldn't want them to think that wearing a super short skirt with white socks and retro rockabilly shoes is acceptable behavior.  That won't do, Chloe.  That won't do at all.

And, finally, I give to you Exhibit 6:

The hell?  This is like when you're trying on a dress and you don't have the right bra on, so it kind of sticks out all funny.  I've done that before.  This is just like that, except it's an entire shirt.  I can't figure this one out.  Like, is the shirt part of the outfit?  Did they take a picture of her before she was totally ready? 

I think that's probably what happened here.  The photographer got so confused about these outfits that he didn't know she was just goofing around and he took the picture.  I know he was thinking, "Ok, well, is she going to take the shirt off?  Why isn't she taking off the shirt?  Is she posing for me?  Oh, God, should I take a picture of this?  This is the last time I answer an add for a fashion photographer on Craigslist."

There's so much more, too, but I think I've given you a representation of what's there.  So, you tell me, why.  Why is she a fashion icon?  It looks like she's just gone through a thrift store and thrown stuff together willy-nilly.  Any homeless guy on the street can do that!  What does she have that a thousand homeless people don't have?  Well, besides a TV show.  And a home. 

Seriously, though, someone please help a sister out here.  What's the appeal?  Because I just don't get it.  Of course, I'm usually found in a t-shirt and some stretchy pants, so I'm no fashion plate myself, but I still know that one should not be walking around outside with glorified bike shorts, complete with belt and turban.  At least not until after Memorial Day.  That is just simply not done.

Our State Legislature: Doing Utah Proud Since... Never.

I'm not usually one to complain about our lawmakers here in Utah.  What's the point, really?  They are mostly white, male, mormon, Republicans who just don't get it.  They are generally only really concerned about two things: (1) making sure that gay men and women can't have anything that even resembles the same rights as anyone else, AND (2) making it impossible for anyone to go out and get a drink without first having to jump through hoops of fire and memorize secret handshakes.  Then, after all that, they've ensured that said drink is as weak as it can be.  Thanks for going the extra mile, Legislature!  You've made the world safe for absolutely no one!

So, for 2 months every year during the regular session, my head explodes about once a week because someone has done something up on the Hill that just goes so far beyond the pale that it seems that it couldn't get worse. 

Then something like this happens: http://www.sltrib.com/ci_8246963

Every damn year, this guy gets reelected and I just don't understand why people out there think that's a good idea.  What in THE hell are they thinking?  My parents live in the city this asshat "represents."  I'm going to ask if they voted for him and if they did, I'm going to write them a very strongly worded letter.  Maybe I'll even shake my fist at them.  I don't know, I haven't decided yet.

There are so many worrisome things going on in our legislature right now that I can't even get into it.  I'd love to do it now, but my head really would explode; I have to go to work in a minute and I can't go to work with an exploded head.  Normally, I don't need my head to work, but I actually have crap to do today, so it would be useful to have it.

I've got great knife skillz.

No, really.  A couple of years ago, I was cutting up some potatoes and sliced right through the top of my left thumb, taking off a pretty sizeable portion.  For a couple of months, one side of my left thumb had a very pronounced diagonal edge to it.  I will spare you the pictures, but they were awesome.

Jump to this morning, when I ran home from work to put our dinner in the crockpot (because I am a housewife from the '50s), I was trying to chop an onion and I was in a hurry so I wasn't really paying much attention.  Well, the knife slipped and my finger slipped and now I have a very angry ring finger.  I just sliced through my nail and the side of my finger, so it's not as bad as my thumb, but it hurt like a bastard!  But did I let that stop me from chopping that onion?  No!  I chopped the hell out of that thing!

I've decided that, for my own safety, we have to get rid of that knife.  It's a Santoku knife and looks a little something like this:

Chop chop! Scary, no?  If you listen closely, you can hear it laughing.

Here comes the sun... and it's going to kill us all.

So, it’s snowing.  Again.  It’s times like these that I just cannot stand living in Utah.  It is February, it’s been cold for a million months already, and, according to that bastard of a groundhog in Pennsylvania, it’s going to be cold for about a million more.  It’s enough to make me want to get in my snow covered car and drive until I see some palm trees and the thermometer gets above 50 degrees.  Hell, I’d even take 40 degrees at this point.

I’ve read all of the literature about global warming.  Ok, that’s a lie.  I watched An Inconvenient Truth (and I didn’t even fall asleep!).  So, I think I know all about it.  The polar icecaps?  They are MELTING.  The penguins in all of those movies (live “action” and animated) will soon have to grow some gills or learn to like serving tropical drinks, because they are going to be screwed if they don’t.  I know that if this trend continues, it will end in a catastrophe the likes of which have never been seen outside of a Michael Bay movie.  Global warming is bad!  If you don’t do something to reduce your carbon footprint, you should just go out and kick some puppies, because it’s basically the same thing.

However, I don’t care.  Nope.  Call me crazy, but I’d like a little global warming up in here.  Can global warming make it so my car isn’t buried in 3 feet of snow every morning?  Can it make it so I don’t have to carve a path in a glacier so my dog can find a place to pee?  If so, I’d like global warming to come on over for a nice long visit.  Would global warming like some lemonade?  Of course it would!  It’s really parched! 

Now, before you start, I understand the implications of the melting icecaps and the sea level rising and the horrible storms and locusts and frogs falling from the sky.  I really do.  But, I’m a horrible person and I’m selfish and I just don’t really care about anything but my own comfort.  If you know me in real life, you can back me up on this.  I suck and I don’t care about much else but myself and a few other important people in my life, like Jack Daniels. (Like I've said before, I’m really more of a gin girl, but I couldn’t think of a gin with a person’s name.)

I don’t want to get all bundled up to go outside and take out the trash!  I don’t want to worry about breaking my neck when I go out to get the mail!  I have a hard enough time not falling down when the ground is dry.  I don’t need nature to make some kind of icy obstacle course for me.  I don’t want to have to wear boots to dig out my car and then bring another pair of shoes in my bag so I don’t look like some yeti when I get to my office.  I have cute shoes and this weather is seriously impeding my ability to show them off!

And that is what’s really important, isn’t it?  I get really sick of just wearing those cute pony skin cheetah print pumps around my house.  And, believe me, my husband gets just as sick of me prancing around and ordering him to compliment my taste in footwear.  Plus, he just doesn’t put as much heart into it as my girlfriends, so it’s really not as fulfilling.  At least he tries, though, god love him.

All that being said, I do hope that the earth doesn’t turn into some gigantic ball of lava, sentencing us all to die a horrible firey death.  But right about now I would give my left ovary for it to just stop snowing for one damn minute.  If it doesn’t, I’d better go now, because I have a long drive ahead of me and I’ve got to go pack up all my shoes.