My Daily Office Complaint

My Daily Office Complaint

I really, REALLY hate it when people have hushed conversations right next to you. HATE. Seriously, what is that about? It puts you in that awkward position of trying to look like you're not listening, but in the meantime, you aren't DEAF, and it's just...gossipy and obnoxious. If you do this? Stop. You're not in jr. high. Or if you are, then...still stop.

Why I never!...? Part 2!

Before we begin, I must adjust points. As my friend Marc pointed out, every time we hang out and Danielle is there, we go to the bathroom together. Fair enough. I guess I was thinking more of the annoying girls at bars and clubs who pile into the bathroom together and think they're just so effing adorable and they are in there forEVER when you have to pee, yet will be the first ones to BANG ON THE DOOR the second you get in the bathroom.

So, points adjusted:

Maturity: 6, Me: 9

On with the show!


A Woman Over 30 Should Never:


16. Go braless, no matter her cup size.

Heh. Well, the key here is in the last half of the sentence. 'Cause going braless is a great dream of mine. And technically, I have some corset-style shirts that I don't wear a bra with, so YAY ME for fighting the system even in an event that should have been a lock!

Maturity: 6, Me: 10


17. Wear flip-flops in the office.

Now, I see that as being much more of an environment thing. At my old job, we were allow to wear flip-flops. Wait, actually we weren't, but everyone did, especially Babz, who wore ONLY flip-flops! I wore them sometimes too, and was 30 then. So pffft to that!

Maturity: 6, Me: 11


18. Play with her hair.

Wow, I'm surprised this doesn't say "have long hair," since we after 30 are apparently supposed to humbly accept our "Thanks for Playing, Old Lady" parting gifts to society. Anyway, whatever. I play with my hair. It's there, I'm fidgety, whatEVER! That's what she said.

Maturity: 6, Me: 12 (in more ways than one, it would seem)


19. Wear butterfly clips or thumb rings.

I'm a bit confused, 'cause to me, butterfly clips mean alligator clips. Do you follow? But I don't know if this just means clips with butterflies on them. Either way, whatever, I'll wear what I like, and I think thumb rings are sexy. Plus, have I mentioned that I need to be doing stuff with my hands at all times?

Maturity: 6, Me: 13


20. Expect Daddy to get her car fixed, towed, or purchased.

Agreed, but I don't think this is an age-30 thing. If a woman is old enough to drive, she should be old enough to be responsible for herself. Girls who "expect Daddy" to do anything irritate me to no end. And for that matter, so do girls who say "Daddy" to begin with. Especially to men they're sleeping with. *Shiver.*

Maturity: 7, Me: 13


21. Buy a "Happy Meal" for herself.

FIRST OF ALL, BOOK, there is NO NEED for the sarcastic quotation marks! Happy Meals are Happy Meals, and they are awesome. I buy them to get Hello, Kitty toys, for that matter! Although I guess the point of this is that since we're over 30, we shouldn't try to be hot, so we should go ahead and supersize it, 'cause who's looking anyway, right? RIGHT? A Happy Meal is the perfect size for me if I want to satisfy a McDonald's craving!

Maturity: 7, Me: 14


22. Wear a pair of pants that she has to lie down to zip.

Just reading that sentence made me feel claustrophobic. But is there really ever a need for that nowadays? I own some tight jeans, but can get them on standing upright. Not to mention again, why, exactly? My hero Lorelai Gilmore wore tight jeans in pretty much every scene she was in where she wasn't working, and she was in her 30s, and she looked way hotter than most 20-somethings! I think women in their 30s, if they're -- you know what, Ima wait till the end to talk about this. "Look, I don't want to go on a rant here..." ~ Tracy Jordan

Maturity: 8, Me: 14


23. Believe what salespeople tell her about how she looks in that outfit.

Yeah. I don't shop? In stores like that? To begin with? So. And anyway, I'm not an idiot, and I like what I like, period. I wouldn't listen to salespeople about things like that anyway.

Maturity: 9, Me: 14


24. Have big hair (The '80s are over!")

Well, sure.

Maturity: 10, Me: 14


WINNER: ME, WOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!


And yes, that was shorter than expected (that's what...), but here is where we find out how to be a MAN over 30! So I cannot play along, but you can play along at home, boys! (That's...HOW DO I STOP!!! Heh.)


Onward!




A Man Over 30 Should Never:


25. Give names to his private body parts.

Should they name their public ones? And what if they named them when they were 16? Should they hold a ceremony to un-name them? These are the hard questions that no one asks. No pun intended.


26. Wear pants low enough to reveal his brand of underwear.

Wasn't this covered in "Clueless?"


27. Wear baseball caps backwards.

Okay, this is a really tough one for me to answer. Because although I have really awesome friends who wear them and look good, I agree with the overall spirit of it. Like, it's really annoying when guys always wear backwards baseball caps, that's for sure.


28. Share alcohol with pets.

Hee! Again though, I must ask, is it okay to do it when you're under 30?


29. Wear more than one article of clothing with a sports team logo on it.

Eh. Whatever. If he wants to, I don't care.


30. Hang black light posters on his walls.

Hee! Well, you know, if a guy is awesome enough, I think he could pull it off! Black light can be a lot of fun!


31. Rely on someone else to feed, clothe, or bandage him.

Agreed. Although I like cooking for and taking care of my boyfriend :)


32. Wear ponytails. (This goes double if he's gray or follicularly challenged.)

You know, on the one hand, I agree with the spirit of this, but on the other hand, after 30, if a guy has a ponytail, he's really committed to that and chances are is either a musician or a hippie or both, and I'm not gonna step on that, he's loving life! Plus, are we really going to question the awesomeness of Willie Nelson?


33. Watch cartoons without any children present.

BOLLOCKS!!! Why? I personally want a guy who's in touch with joy, who is not childish, but childlike in lots of ways. I have never had any interest in pairing off with someone boring. I want my guy to be fun! And happy! So if cartoons makes him happy, whom does that hurt?


34. Live with his parents for any reason other than house arrest.

Nice in theory, but it's a brutal time, economically, and I am in no position to judge this. Unless he's just a douche, in which case, yeah, the mommy daddy thing isn't helping him.


35. Require house arrest.

Okay.


36. Skateboard.

Again, why??? Maybe if he has kids and is doing mad dangerous tricks, then sure, but that's a responsibility thing, not an age thing. If skateboarding makes a guy happy...he should skateboard.


37. Name pets after LORD OF THE RINGS characters.

Now here's where you should have used quotation marks, Book, not with the Happy Meals. Or italics. Not caps, though. Anyway, this is a pretty tough one. Guys over 30 who are too into LOTR can absolutely be creepy, but at the same time, they're amazing movies, and I've never read them, but amazing books from what I understand. Classics, at this point. Soooo, really, go with your heart on this one. If you're the creepy type, there's probably little hope for your acting right any time soon to begin with, so let's not belabor the issue.


38. Know all the characters in the Marvel universe.

So again, if they knew them when they were younger, should they seek out the Haitian Dude? Either way, I disagree. Guys who are super into comics and superheroes tend to be some of the coolest guys EVER. And no, I am not being sarcastic.


39. Read the comics first.

If this said, "Read only the comics in a newspaper," I'd say sure. But why shouldn't he read the comics first? Sheesh.


40. Suck the filling out of a snack cake.

I notice this wasn't on the women's list -- ahem.

But um, yeah, I'm not a fan of guys publicly...sucking, you know what I mean? Like who suck everything off their fingers and stuff like that. So I'd personally prefer to not witness this, but if you do it in private, I won't judge you.


41. Leave .2 ml of milk in a carton and put it back in the fridge.

Okay, "Everybody Loves Raymond" all of a sudden, Book. No, they should not. Are you happy? Can we move on?


42. Play air guitar.

I'm not gonna lie. I've always found air guitar a bit awkward, regardless of age. And real guitar playing is hot. So do that.


43. Suck helium from balloons.

Hee. Hee hee hee hee hee hee.


44. Wear anything with Velcro.

I disagree. If a guy makes it to 30 and wants to rock some Velcro, he is probably someone I'd like to have drinks with.


45. Determine cleanliness of clothing by the sniff test.

You can draw your own conclusions from this, but I'd just be grateful that he sniffed at all, if you know what I'm saying. Not Javier. He's sort of clean all the time in this surreal way. But others.


46. Antagonize zoo animals.

Not a fan of zoos myself, so I'm just gonna hush up.


47. Drink depth charges or do Jello shots.

I had to Google "depth charge," and got 2,700 different definitions, but I guess it could apply to any "bomb" (Jager, Irish car) type of drink. And whatever. I don't like overgrown frat boys, but I don't see why you can't have these types of shots for fun sometimes.


48. Spend an entire conversation reciting lines from movie dialogue instead of actually discussing something.

Wow, yeah, I agree with this wholeheartedly. I have a VERY low tolerance for this. I love geeks, and I love movies, but that drives me absolutely CRAZY.


49. Go on spring break to hit on 18-year-olds.

Um...well, no, of course not. Guys over 21 shouldn't be going anywhere to hit on 18-year-olds. It's REALLY CREEPY. Have I mentioned how creeped out I am by guys like that? It's like, fine you don't want a bitchy, haggard woman who's going to be a huge pain in the ass. So don't date one. But don't be That Guy, who doesn't realize how much he is embarrassing himself. All the high fives in the world from your buddies doesn't mean you're actually a stud. Also? 18-year-old girls? CRAZY. And not in the good way. I know from experience. Maybe I will write a blog on this...


50. Play videogames until crippled by carpal tunnel.

Oh, whatever. You're gonna get carpal tunnel somehow, you might as well have fun.


51. Wear leather pants.

The guys who can pull off leather pants are few and far between. But the ones who can aren't the kind to stop being able to at age 30.



And here's where we switch to what "grownups" should do. No telling what "grownups" means in this context, but apparently...


Grownups Should Never:


52. Follow Jimmy Buffett on tour.

Who else is going to though?


53. Use phrases like "fo' shizzle" and "da 'hood."

Um.


54. Go punk. (We repeat: the '80s are over!)

You can't really "go" punk, but I hear what you're saying, Book. But...I'm depressed now.


55. Add the word "like" to, like, anything they say.

I use it deliberately, Boook >:o


56. Dive into mosh pits or body surf at concerts.

'Cause of the fragile bones, prolly.


57. Ask parents for $20 to go out for dinner.

Well, no. And where are they going out for dinner with just $20? YOU HAVE TO LEAVE A GOOD TIP, DAMMIT!


58. Text, IM, or e-mail NE1 using 2 many Net abbreviations. LOL cu zzz

"Net"?

Although I agree with this one, sorry. It annoys the crap out of me when teenagers do it, but adults? No. I don't mean the lol here, or the btw there, etc. etc. but I knew a grown man who emailed like that and it was annoying like, he couldn't be bothered to type out a word. Nothing can make me lose a hard on like reading "Cya l8r."


59. Indulge in bubblegum--either the chewing or the listening kind.

WHY! WHY! WHY! WHY! WHY!


60. Display theme park paraphernalia in their homes or on their bodies.

Depends how, why, where, yada yada. Shannon has lots of Disney stuff displayed, because she loves it, and it's pretty! Some women wear Mickey sweatshirts and it's depressing. I think this is more of a case-by-case type of thing. Plus, I would never rule out the option of wearing or displaying something from Islands of Adventure , 'cause that place kicks all KINDS of ass.


61. Attempt to audition for "American Idol."

Well, yeah. You're not allowed if you're over 29. So again. WhatEVER.


62. Bite their nails and chew down their cuticles.

I don't really know what to say to this one. I don't do it, but...I just have nothing to say. This book is making me tired.


63. Use "Peace" as a greeting.

Do you mean as a salutation? Because I have never in my entire life heard someone use that as a greeting, only as a goodbye. And Jay just did it the other day on my voicemail, and I thought it was awesome! But I'd agree not to use it if it's to sound cool and it's not genuine. Like how some people can say "Later" and you will be like, "Bye," but others will say "Later" and you will want to kick them in the eye.


64. Buy an outfit for a night, wear it with the tags still on, then return it.

I just think that's wrong and unsanitary, period, but if you're not someone who cares about that when you're 24, you're probably not going to be someone who cares about that when you're...however old "grownup" means. Except you will probably be more orange.


65. Take any advice offered by a small gift book.

I am not even dignifying this with a rant.




~ THE END ~

Why, I never!...?

So recently at Borders, I came across this:





And since I am a masochist, I decided to buy it, and see how I measure up. But first, let me share with you an intro so horrifying, they may as well just hang it up at the entrance to the Haunted House at Adventureland:

Relinquish the rubber bracelets.
Kiss Hello Kitty goodbye.
Deep six the Xbox...
...Maturity is calling and it's asking for you by name.


Sooooo let's see if that's true! 'Cause I think I can outwit this "Maturity"!


A Woman Over 30 Should Never:


1. Dot her "i"s with little circles or hearts.

Heh. Well. Right away, I lose that one. I've been dotting my eyes with hearts since I was 13 and decided to teach myself every single handwriting from The Baby-Sitters Club. And like, Stacey was the coolest one, okay? And she had very neat handwriting AND was smart, good with numbers! Plus, her struggles with diabetes and her parents' divorce. I wasn't going to just like, abandon her hearted "i"s. Then it became more of an ironic thing, and now I do it just because it's ingrained in me.

Maturity: 0, Me: 1


2. Wear glittery nail polish.

Screw that! I am currently rocking my requisite chipped pink nail polish (awesomest thing ever: Danielle, holding up her own chipped nail-polished hands: "Judi, we match!") but if I was around glittery nail polish and felt like wearing it, I sure would! What, all of a sudden I am no longer Judi Posch but Judy Gellar? No.

Maturity: 0, Me: 2


3. Wear anything with Hello, Kitty on it.

Fuck YOU, little book! Hello, Kitty is my great love, my great joy, my raison d'etre, if you will. LOVE LOVE LOVE. This book wants to really steal a lot of my joy, it would seem.

Maturity: 0, Me: 3


4. Wear a skirt that's shorter than the height of her shoe heel.

Well...NO. No, she shouldn't. A woman over gastrula should never do that. So many things are wrong with that concept and I'm not saying that to harsh anyone's buzz, but either the shoe would have to be grotesquely high, or that chick has no ass. So either way, I see eye to eye with the book for the first time.

Maturity: 1, Me: 3


5. Pierce anything other than her ears.

I see the point of this, I do. It's one of the reasons I never re-pierced my tongue. But if you are the kind of woman who can rock another kind of ring (although I will call genital piercings gross until the day I die), then go for it! I'm not, but I still love my belly ring! So whatEVER.

Maturity: 1, Me: 4


6. See "Titanic" more than once.

Let's see, when was this book written...2007. Okay, that makes no sense and is a ridiculously outdated reference. Strangely enough though, I actually have only seen "Titanic" once, so...point for Maturity, I guess.

Maturity: 2, Me: 4


7. Get a lower back tattoo.

*Exhales.* Fair enough. Fair enough, little book. I'm still getting one though, if I so choose, but for now...

Maturity: 3, Me: 4


Uh-oh.


8. Blame anything on "baby fat."

That one just seems dumb to me. I've never blamed anything on baby fat, and if anything, now, I am thankful for slightly resembling a grown-up Gerber baby, so.

Maturity: 4, Me: 4


9. Put her hair in pigtails.

Heh.

Maturity: 4, Me: 5


10. Own a bike with a basket or tassels.

I would LOVE to own a bike, period, especially with a basket AND tassels! Alas, I do not.

Maturity: 5, Me: 5


11. Go to the bathroom in groups.

Okay, see this one, I actually get, believe it or not. I've done it, don't get me wrong, but that is something where if you do it past a point, you kind of become a bitch and sort of pathetic. Maybe I am basing too much of this on offices and Guido's, but I stand by it.

Maturity: 6, Me: 5


12. Try to get back into her prom dress.

WHY! See, this is why I knew this book was gonna be a lotta bullshit ™Lucio. There's a very "Abandon all hope, all ye who dare to muck up the kinderwhore landscape with your advanced age" vibe going on. Seriously, fuck off, Book. I'm not saying I'll ever wear it again, but I WILL fit into my prom dress again! Heck, I might now. Eh, I'll try once more in the summer.

Maturity: 6, Me: 6


13. Make cupcakes for a party that doesn't revolve around kids.

Again, why? Cupcakes are awesome! See, this is...I'll get into that more later.

Maturity: 6, Me: 7


14. Decorate with stuffed animals.

Fine, that is totally fine. I will always love stuffed animals, and will continue to buy and accept them if I feel like it, but I agree about the decorating thing, that's pretty creepy.

Maturity: 7, Me: 7


15. Sport anything decorated with unicorns, flying horses, or rainbows.

Okay, first of all? The word is Pegasus. (Pegasi?) Second, whatever. Ima make a shirt with all three now.

Maturity: 7, Me: 8



~ TO BE CONTINUED ~

A Thin Line Between Whee And Oops

I suck at sports.

No, really suck.

I'm athletic, and surprisingly strong. I was a cheerleader for six years, and can be coordinated. I can even do things that just require hitting things and running around, like racquetball and fencing, or like my beloved Zim-Zam of yore.

But I cannot throw, and I cannot catch. Period. So basically that meant that in gym class, unless we were doing gymnastics or aerobics or weight training, I was screwed. Hearing encouraging cries of "You can do it!" and "It's okay!" and "Good try!" could wake me from sleep like the darkest of night terrors. I hated gym. Because I hate to fail.

You can imagine, then, what I was going through in 1980 when I was on Romper Room. "Time to pair off!" Miss Mary Ann cheerfully declared, and first off, I HATE having to pair off. It's always just so awkward for everyone involved. Plus, I'm shy.

I did find a partner though, but the next battle was actually doing the paired activity, namely: throwing and catching.

And not even throwing a ball and catching a ball, NO. We were using those little plastic lacrosse-type sticks. So now you have a trifecta of terror for me: pairing off, throwing and catching, AND using sports equipment.

Brrrrrrrrrrr.

The next couple of minutes were spent throwing with mad caution, very gentle, tiny tosses to make up for my lack of aim. When the ball was thrown to me, I would of course miss, then have to run around for a bit as the plastic ball bounced all over those shiny TV-studio floors.

Until -- I CAUGHT IT!

I caught the ball! All by myself! And you should have seen the look of shock on my face.

That one minor success was enough for me. I LOVED sports now!!!

The shock on my face shifted quickly to EXCITEMENT! I was DONE with the dumb tiny tosses. I was a jock now, yo!

So I FLUNG that ball as though I were going for some kind of distance -- and height, for that matter -- record. I watched the ball fly through the air, admiring my newfound power, but as the people in the studio audience avoided getting hit by the rogue ball, the look on my face switched to one of fear.

Sure enough.

Miss Mary Ann: Now, Judith. We must remember that we are indoors.

My face fell, and I turned beet red. How humiliating! But at the same time, how exciting! How awesome it felt to just take something and throw it as hard as I could!


And thus it all began.





©2008

Whither Thou, Mr. Mendez?

So I realize that this blog might make me seem insane, and also that I've been watching a lot of "Heroes" lately (only Season One! Don't spoil me!), but the fact remains that I have a big doozie of a mental and spiritual conspiracy theory in my head.

Mind you, I'm neither drunk nor high.

But like, there has been so much stuff, my whole life that I've just *seen.* Not necessarily literally. But I've had a hell of a lot of dreams come true; my big thing has always been dreaming about plane crashes right before they happen. And all through my life, I will have moments of de ja vu that aren't de ja vu. They're real, honest-to-goodness, "rehappenings," whether from real life or a dream.

And it doesn't matter how many insanely detailed incidents I can recall from my entire childhood -- I still sound crazy. I realize this.

But you know how on "Heroes," how it's all very annoying how they can't get over themselves enough to band together and win? And you want to just shake them! ESPECIALLY when you realize that Isaac didn't have to die, dammit!!! If any one of these people could stop fighting their calling, they could do so much!

I wonder sometimes if that is how real life is. Not that I can fly (YET) or anything, but I do firmly believe in the idea of the more childlike a person is, the more he or she can see, can know. That's why I'll never poo-poo my hypothetical kids if they ever adamantly maintain that they see a monster. Maybe it is a monster, maybe it isn't. But they see SOMEthing.

I see SOMEthing. I'm just not sure what to do about it yet, so it's scary, like the cave in The Stand. I'm braving the gaseous, bloated heads because I have to believe that there is a light at the end. If I didn't believe that, I could just hang back, where the only option is certain death.

The thing is, the only option IS certain death. Heath Ledger's been dead for two hours and already there is a crowd outside his apartment. Already people are joking, and already someone posted a penis when you click -- you know what, I'm not telling y'all, 'cause I'm not encouraging this. But suffice it to say, a man is dead, and people are acting like buffoons.

Why?

Basically, this is me figuring out the dream.

To be honest, I kind of already knew the dream, but I had to dream it in order to understand it. You follow? It's much easier for me to wrap my brain around the theoretical when I have imagery to go along with it.

So I've figured out the dream, but now the question is where to go from here. What to do. The only other option is to go back to the basement and stick my head in the sand and...well, mix metaphors apparently, but more than that, wait to die.

Because we're all going to. Die. Yes, that's morbid. Life by its very nature and definition is morbid. But what if there's something -- something more. Something to do. And what if the only people who can see that are people who let themselves to begin with, and how many more of those lose their minds?

I believe it's because they're too close. We're too close. To something.

In a good way.





©2008

"In the clay, the holes of hands"

First dream, and an explanation

Second dream





Prithee, My Dear
Why Are We Here?



They were all there. Stuck in the basement. Like it was a bomb shelter -- not ideal, but necessary. For the time being.

And I was one of them, but one day I wondered why I accepted it so easily, that I had to stay there. There were people upstairs. Outside, even.

So I went upstairs. Just like that. And went back downstairs to see my friends, but grew increasingly frustrated.

Time passed, and more people went upstairs, but first they had to bleed somehow. I'd never bled; I just knew I could go upstairs. There were no guard dogs, no one waiting at the gate to shoot.

But it also wasn't easy living, upstairs. There was a war going on, of sorts. I didn't understand it, or even who was fighting whom. No one was bothering me. Something let me float above, unscathed. I just knew it was important to be careful.

And I knew that there was safety in numbers. The people in the basement no longer belonged there. They were starting to become gray and moldy, and their denial that anything was wrong maddened me to the point that I lost my temper.

"Why are you still sitting here, under the stairs! Why don't you just go up there?"

"We can't."
"We don't know how."
"We're safe here."

"You're not safe. You're letting yourself decay and soon it will be too late to do anything. If you go upstairs now, we all stand a chance. Why don't you just do it?"

"We can't get in. The only people that can get upstairs are the people who've shed blood."

"THEN PRICK YOURSELF WITH A PIN! IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL! IT IS JUST BLOOD."

I stabbed a pin in my finger, just to prove a point, and enjoyed watching how such a tiny cut could bleed so much. It was just blood. It didn't hurt at all. And anything was a welcome change from the gray, gray, gray, everywhere in the basement.


The next time I went upstairs though, things were different. I no longer floated above; they saw me.

And they were not pleased.

One of them chased me upstairs. I got away, but now I was really angry. Were the Basement People ever going to stop confusing their complacency with comfort? Because I could fight it out as long as possible, but really could use some help.

And no way was I going back to the basement now.












©2008

THIS Is Where We FIGHT! THIS Is Where NBC PAYS ITS DUE!

Okay. For real, hasn't NBC been a huge asshole long enough? It took me a long time to stop hating NBC for taking the Most Beautiful Show That Ever Was, aka "Freaks and Geeks," and gutting it in pure daylight for all of the world to witness. "This is what we do to those who dare CREATE."

Longer still for trying to gather 'round the "Gen X/Y" audience for the Salt Lakes Olympics by rallying under the awesome tagline...

...

...


..."Salt Lake's Bangin'."

Longer still, for their letting go their sole copy editor (yours truly) for certain cable projects because they were too busy spending budget on coke and glitter to check for spelling errors in their crappy campaigns.

I hated them for their cockiness. I hated them for their aggressive and active denial that they had any credibility, all colorful peacock aside, for anything other than tolerating what fell into their laps, that they tried to murder, only to have the populace cry "NO" when they were still floundering for a position in television.

Witness: "The Cosby Show." "Family Ties." "Seinfeld."

They let those shows continue out of *catering to an audience*, out of desperation. Those shows made their empire what it was today.

"Friends" was "Friends." No denying that. But like "Friends" would EVER have existed without "Seinfeld," which they wanted to cancel. "Friends" was its own pop-cultural-Wormwoodian genius. They didn't do it; they tried to copy it (Post-"Gimme a Break" Jonathan Silverman, Brooke Shields, mulleted Lea Thompson, Brooke Shields, Kirstie Alley), to varyingly horrifying results.

They failed.

NBC rode the talent of its redheaded stepchildren, its Harry-Potter-in-the-cupboard-esque non-desirables, to the top, where they took credit for the creations they never wanted.

Because they knew better.

They KNOW better.

Always. Which is why they cancelled "Freaks and Geeks." No matter that the show was across-the-board critically acclaimed as even better than the last prematurely aborted genius show, "My So-Called Life."

Why WOULD it matter, when NBC was still violently shaking the death rattles from its Must See TV lineup. Why WOULD viewers appreciate another show (ironically) ahead of its time? Who would want to watch a perfect show starring the unbankable likes of Seth Rogen, done by people including a no name such as "Judd Apatow"? Bollocks! Any suit worth two cents knows that audiences across the board clamor not for freshness, but for even more will-they-or-won't-they "Three's Company"-style raucousness with 27th season Frasier, Roz, Niles and Daphne!

Right?

RIGHT?!?!?!

Yeah. Not so much, NBC. You took one of the last, yet best shows to the guillotine before TV on DVD was a blip on the radar, and you came out with major egg on your face.

Years passed.

Hatred remained.

But then came "The Office."

You tried to take credit. You did take credit. It was Ricky Gervais's show, but you gave it an American time slot, so obviously, you WIN!!! YAY!!! Let's not mention the fact that Steve Carell, among other supremely qualified actors, turned Michael Scott and company into a whole new ball game. We wouldn't want to mention that. People might question your genius.

I questioned your genius.

But then? Came more. "My Name Is Earl." To be honest, still not my "thing," but it's a great show.

However. "30 Rock."

"30 ROCK."

"30 Rock" is one of the best shows ever to hit the air, any time, anywhere, ever. EVER. You are soooooo lucky to have had such an above-you talent like Tina Fey for so long now. Whatcha, a little upset that her Emmy-Award winning, Golden Globe-nominated show is sweeping anything and everything above your wildest dreams? You thought, much like Jack Donagy would have, if Jack Donagy weren't awesome, that mousy little Tina Fey would be satisfied Just! Having! A! Show! on such an *E*X*C*I*T*I*N*G* network like NBC, because, GAWSH!!!! Who EVER in LIFE gives such a boring little opinionated brunette her own show, I mean, she should be foaming at the mouth and bowing down, RIGHT!!!

RIGHT?!?!?!?!?!

WRONG!!!!

NBC, you are an idiot!!! Exactly how long? How long, did you think you could ride this brilliant cash cow? How long have you been seeing the talent on your network that you in no way deserved, AS a cash cow?

Too long.

The writers are striking. Yeah, you know, the writers? The ones you overlook in lieu of the vapid blondes and assorted others at your "jobs"? The ones who sit home at night and afford you your Ryan-esque lifestyles, replete with minions who hate you, and lap-dancing strippers who don't love you? The ones who make you feel all in the business? *Successful*?

Well, they are done with your bullshit. The emperor is wearing no clothes, and the writers have got your number. How long can you go with no writers? And yes, I am singling you, NBC. Everything you have is based on writers. Everything you've ever had has been based on other people's talents. Are you REALLY, in this time, going to spit at your writers and talent? The Golden Globes, a ratings and pop-cultural interest has been taken from you. How much further are you going to go?

"American Idol" is starting up again. "LOST" is starting up again. Are you REALLY so content in your bloated Ivory Towers, that you are going to ignore your competition, and toss away everything you've gained in the past 25 years again?

Time's running out. The WGA has your number. PAY them, dammit! PAY them for the work they are doing, for the artistry that they are bringing to your sorry ass, and for the interest they are captivating in a world that is increasingly disimpressed by The Big Networks.

Last chance, NBC. Because I'm getting off on whatever stop Tina Fey gets off on.

Anyone who agrees with me, change your avatar. Join the movement. Support the strike. Support entertainment.




©2008

Morning Shit List Awards II

Bronze Medal

People who will simply not stop saying "ironically." EVERYone uses it wrong! Well, not literally.* And don't get me wrong. I was an English major, and still get nervous when I try to figure out whether something's ironic. But I do know that "Jagged Little Pill" came out 13 years ago -- plenty of time to learn that "ironically" is not synonymous with "how 'bout that bug-infested chardonnay," you know? I proofread something today about the presidential elections and the writer used ironically completely inappropriately and it pissed me off, because like, credibility much? (Now, see, that was ironic. (I think.))

*Runner-up: People who keep saying literally when they mean figuratively, like "I LITERALLY have a thousand things to do." No.


Silver Medal

TRUCKS!!! Effing trucks!!! Good GRAVY, effing trucks.

Seriously. I work on Wellwood Avenue and have become firmly convinced that in order to get a truck driver's license in the armpit of life aka Farmingdale, all you have to do is show up drunk and on quaaludes, and they are all like, HERE YOU GO HERE IS A JOB START TODAY because holy CRAP, the truck drivers around here are horrendous, and not in the way that they tear around like Christine because that would be a welcome improvement. No. They go three miles an hour, literally. Just kidding. But they go really really slow and the wimpy drivers in this area, likely depressed by the fact that every deli around here is actually a front for crack, just let the trucks mosey on out in front of everyone, bringing traffic to a screeching halt when like, I HAVE TO GET TO WORK.

Runner-up: People who go 60 miles in the left lane on the parkway. That's all very WELL AND GOOD that you're so phlegmatic about life, how nice for you sir, ma'am, but not only is your behavior obnoxious; it is dangerous.


Gold Medal

The DJ on 106.1 and everything his statements reflect about why I am pissed off as a feminist in society. (Catchy!)

And right away, I know Ima piss people off right now, and right away, I'm pissed right back 'cause that is my point.

I am a feminist. And we can get the hair splitting out of the way while I say that yes, I know men tend to have stronger arms, woot woot. I don't think that men and women are exactly alike. But I believe in mutual respect and the deserving of equality for each gender. Dammit, if I have to haul my ass out of bed every day to go make less than I'm worth in order to pay my cell phone bill and generally be a cliché when truth be told, I would LOVE to stay home and cook and clean and write my book, then I damn well BETTER be given equal rights.

Part of why I am a feminist is that I have an insanely rebellious brain. I don't like being told what to do, but more than that, I really, really, REALLY don't like being told what to think. To me, that is the greatest insult of all. Maybe it has to do with learning how to read when I was three; I stopped relying on others for my information pretty early on and went and fetched it myself.

So it really chaps my ass when I get treated like a traitor to my people by not supporting Hillary Clinton for president. I believe that I am in a unique (not VERY unique, mind you; see bronze medal) position in that I grew up very conservative, and over the years have become a lot more liberal. Many see that as hypocritical. Many treat me like I'm letting them down. But whatever, because I am a truth-seeker above all, and I want, to quote Alanis given the theme, "to know why and how come about everything."

Meaning, I'm not towing your party line. And if I have to deal with getting shit from conservatives for not being conservative enough, I can come right out and say flat out that nothing pisses me off more than when a liberal is closed-minded and humorless. It's so disingenuous, and why I adore Tina Fey more than anyone. She owns her political beliefs, and actually lives by them, seeing humor in everyone regardless -- or because -- of their political beliefs. Because people are funny! And dumb! And think once they know one thing, they know everything!

Which is ridiculous! Almost as ridiculous as the backwards-ass notion that because I'm a woman, I should have to vote for Hillary because she IS a woman because hello, hi:

1) That defeats the entire purpose of feminism. Shouldn't I have just as much of a right to a free, informed vote as a man does?

2) I don't agree with her positions on gun control and partial birth abortion, two issues that directly relate to personal safety. Do I now have to compromise that safety by voting for someone who directly negates my personal beliefs, just because she is a woman?

3) I DO NOT WANT TO LIVE IN AN OLIGARCHICAL SOCIETY! I mean, really! Regardless of whether anyone was the worst or awesomest president in the whole wide world, I don't want to go Bush, Clinton, Bush, Clinton, for literally (NOT kidding) 20 years! That's ridiculous! Also, Clinton, as in Bill Clinton? Overrated! Yes, I said it! Not liking Bush does not mean we have to get all rose-colored glasses about good ol' Bill. I mean, I'm sure I could drink some beer with him and have a fun time, but that doesn't mean I have to want Clinton II: U.S.S. Cole Bugaloo, if you know what I'm saying. And you should.


All of which is to say that when this 106.1 DJ starts losing his shit at the notion that Hillary's headline-making news of her almost crying might have an effect on votes? Just dumb. Ignorant. He said, and I'm paraphrasing as best as I remember, "Her weight, her clothes, her crying, none of that should matter." Okay, in complete agreement about the first two, but of COURSE her crying could affect things. I've remained cold and detached (for me) through most of this blog, but I am an emotional person, and I do sympathize with her situation on a personal level. On a political level, however, not only do I want a strong commander-in-chief capable of emotional detachment, because that is his or her job, but most of all, I don't want freaking double standards! Perpetuating the idea that women are too emotional to be good presidents is something that Hillary absolutely had every responsibility to keep in mind from the get-go.

That is what it comes down to for me. The job is for president, not who we think seems like a swell person, not who can play the best saxophone, but who can be the best president. I'm not saying that I have omniscient knowledge on who that is, but I DO know that it is my right as an American -- not as a woman, as an American -- to decide on my own for whom I will vote for president. That is everyone's right. And we should all be doing it. Not ending friendships because opinions differ, but -- sorry for the cheese -- building bridges and realizing that the polarization of politics in this country has done way more harm than good. Maybe 2008 is the year we can pull our heads out of our asses and realize that we are not defined by our pins or our ribbons or our bumper stickers, but by our ability to become more informed and connected human beings with both the capability and the responsibility to create the government we'd like to see.


Runner-up: I think I've talked long enough.





©2008