Thank Jesus H. Roman!

Thank you, America for that amazing backlash that let the RHW get the massive boot! Finally! I can watch the rest of the season without cringing. I cheered! Even my 4 year old daughter came out of her room to ask me to keep it down. Twice! I mean, even she knew he was awful. She has, more than once, turned to me and said, "Mommy, that boy can't sing" or "That's just painful." It's sad that my 4 year old knows more about music than the 4 million people who blindly voted for him last night. I mean, sure he's a nice kid and everyone loves his grandparents, but he's relieved to go home. Trust me. He wants to get back to his high school where all the girls who have ignored him for the past 10 years are suddenly clamoring to be in his presence. He wants to get back to his mom and dad so they can tell him what a "good boy" he is some more. You think his AI handlers told him what a good boy he was? Psha! They told him to make his hair more spiky and dress more like it's 2004. They also tried to make him "dance." That just ain't right. The boy has no soul. And I don't mean the kind of "soul" that we like to say that black people have and white people lack. I'm talking about the soul that humans have that make us living beings and able to relate to other humans, art, and sometimes even music. Music is a mechanical, scientific thing to this boy. And he's gone. So maybe I'll shut up about it. The End. For Now. (Hey, now there's a good sign off line!)

Please don't expect this post to have a point...

I've been chastised for not updating my blog as often as I should. Geez, sorry people! Not really. That just means that people are actually reading it and actually liking it. I like that you like it. I like that you like ME! Awww, puffy clouds and ponies everywhere! So I guess I'll just update you on what has happened since um....Thursday? Yes, Thursday was my last spot.

Friday: Went to the bar to play my usual Friday game of Abused News Trivia. I have gotten first place, like, 12 out of 13 weeks. Call me a nerd, you won't be the first. And that one time I didn't get first, I got a close second and was shocked and dismayed (not really since I lost to a cute, and obviously very smart, boy). Except on Friday. Friday I came in 6th out of 6. I couldn't believe it. I guess I was too busy working to actually read the news last week. Sucks. So then I find out that our "after-hours" bar has closed. See, it's not really an after-hours bar, it just stays open until 2 and we would go there because all the bars in my town close down at 12 on Fridays. Lame. So anyway, it's closed! What do we do at 12:01!?? Well, one guy decides to have some people over. It turns out, he has a super nice house with a really fat cat. It has a nice porch and a swimming pool in the back yard. Now, the cool thing is, we were under a tornado warning for pretty much the whole night. Storms everywhere, but obviously the worst stuff never got near us. That's the thing about tornadoes. They're so random, it's hardly worth getting worked up over unless you're basically right underneath one. This coming from someone who freaked out about RAIN for a good 20 years of her life. ANYWAY! So it was very cool with the rain and the lighting and the porch-sitting until 4:30 a.m. And of course The One I Love was there and momentarily held my hand. SIGH! He has soft hands. But we didn't make out or anything. That part sucked. But I was in his presence, so it was good enough for me. Take this time to go puke. When you get back, I'll be on Saturday.

Saturday: I spent most of Saturday hung over and taking naps. Then I went out again. This time with my homegirl Jessica. Now, I have been friends with Jessica for at least 11 years and I can't fathom being angry with her. She is really one of the funniest people I've ever met and I feel like I can truly be myself around her. So we laugh very loudly when we're together. Backtrack. The weekend before, The One I Love (TOIL for short....ironic? Possibly.) was out. OK, so he works at the bar, but he was a regular there before he started working there, so for him to be hanging out there sounds weird, but it isn't. Well, like a total dumbass, I tell him I had a dream about him. It wasn't dirty or anything, just very sweet. In my dream, we had snuck (sneaked?? nobody knows) (Thanks, Shane for the rad website!) onto a golf course and we were just playing the greens. Sort of a midnight putt-putt game. Well, that's all I told him, even though in the dream we had like, the best kiss ever (keep that puke bucket near). So we discussed the ins and outs of dream analysis and determined that there was no clear-cut meaning in dreams of miniature golf. I told him it was very pleasant and he said good and that was the end of it. I felt like a dork of about a C level. I really really don't want him to know that I'm crushing on him. I know it's very 7th grade, but I'd like for him to come to like me on his own, if he so wishes, without any sort of pressure. So, back to this past Saturday and TOIL is working the main register. Well, he breaks the key off in the register. It turns out that, much to his chagrin, not only was this a very old key, it was the ONLY key! So the register is stuck. He never feels guilty, as he should not have, since the manager failed to have a spare. So as the manager is trying to pry the damn thing open with a screwdriver, TOIL steps off to the side and says "You know, I just had a dream last night that I broke the key to that thing." And I perk up, "Oh, so dreams really do come true?" Graduate to Grade A Dork! He manages a slight laugh because he is the nicest guy ever as I frame my diploma. Mental note: Feign drunkenness and lack of memory next time you talk to TOIL. I am such a dork.

Sunday: Sat around feeling like a dork.

Monday: I won burritos for me and everyone in my office! I'm the most popular girl at work! Yay burritos!

Today: Went to work and organized burrito lunch. I make lots of jokes and the people at work suddenly notice I have a sense of humor. After 3 years. Oh! And I realized that on Internet Man Mark's website, there is a fantastic picture of him and he just happens to be wearing the jacket I bought for him. This makes me feel super-cool. OK, don't go thinking that I am tripped up stupid for purchasing clothing for a man I've never met. Sometimes I go out to the thrift stores and I see things that I think he might like so I buy them. You'd do the same thing! It was the right size and color and had little fake bottle openers on the sides. How can you pass that up? Ok, what else....We came home, watched American Idol (go La Toya). If any of you vote for John Stevens, I'm spending the money to have your dialing fingers broken. I know people. Don't doubt me. DON'T! Then I watched 24 which literally made me stop breathing a total of 3 times, at least. I think I was so far off the edge of my seat that I actually fell down. I'm not sure because I was paying attention to the story. It was that good. So then I went to one of my favorite websites ever, TWoP to read the AI recap from LAST week. It literally had me in tears I was laughing so hard. Please, if you have time, and you watch the show, follow that link and scroll down to the recap titled "It's the End of the World as We Know it. I Feel Fine." It's sort of long, but you can print it out and read it when you're bored, or over lunch or something. I know long articles don't bother you because you're still reading this. Speaking of which, I should wrap this thing up. I promise I'll try to have one topic tomorrow. Until then, cupcakes and unicorns!!

Who listens to Blender anyway

So Blender released their top 10 worst songs ever. Here I thought the listing belonged to VH1. Anyway, they actually ranked the top (bottom) 50 worst songs, but only released the top 10. I suppose they think I'm going to buy their magazine for the other 40. But they are wrong. Seven of those songs were from the 80's. I take issue with that. Sure the 80's were rampant with one-hit wonders, but they still managed to produce some of the best synthesizer riffs ever! And Starship as #1?? I'm incensed! I mean, we're all knee-deep in the hoopla, aren't we? AREN'T WE?

So Internet Man Sevi and I decided that we cannot resist a list of our own. He's already started on his. I've spent some time spacing out about mine and I'm not sure of the direction I want to take with this. I mean, there are plenty of songs that just grate on my nerves like nothing else (Neil Diamond). But this isn't the most annoying song list or it'd be the easiest list ever. All I'd have to do was bring up the entire discography of Creed. Cut. Paste. Done. But I can't do that with this list because some of their songs, although hard to admit, are actually musically decent. If that makes any sense at all. Just like Linkin Park. I don't find them entirely enjoyable, but their arrangements and musicality are actually very good. So, I have to go with songs that are just plain bad. Like that damn song from Las Ketchup from last year or maybe the year before....who cares, it was awful. What were they saying? Was it in english? They named themselves after a condiment. They shan't be taken seriously. Yes, I'm talking to you, Salt n "Pepa." Push it good. Speaking of which, I also really really hate it when popular songs insist on using poor grammar. Ain't no mountain high enough. Now, I live in Texas, so I use "ain't" more than I should, but that double negative was just way too much for me to stomach. Should some poor grammar squeeze its way into a song I really like, I will stop singing at the point of poor grammar. I just can't do it!

Well, the good news is, a while back I created a music list at launch.yahoo.com to listen to at work because, sadly, I had no radio. Basically, you rate all these songs that you like and you want to listen to and then you have songs "suggested" to you. Well, a number of those songs I hated and rated them as "don't ever ever play this song in my playlist." So all I have to do, is go to the very end of my list and remember all these songs I despise! This makes this list so much easier! "Hot in Herre" There's really no reason to intentionally misspell anything. Even for your homies. Both "Hero"s. One by Enrique Iglesias and one by Chad Kroeger of Nickelback. Two very different songs. One very painful theme. Suckage. "It wasn't me" by Shaggy. Glorifying infidelity tends to piss me off and the song was oh so stupid. "When it's Over" by Sugar Ray. Mark McGrath, you're not even pretty enough for me to pretend that you have a good "band." Ugh, Staind. You are so whiny. Take some uppers, man! Have a Coke and a smile! Something!!! And Cat's in the Cradle. I feel for the kid and the dad involved in this song, but it is sooooooooo long and soooooooo annoying. Ironic by Alannis Morissette. Now, I like Alannis. Not so much in her angry days, but she's a great musician and a fabulous vocalist. Just try singing one of her songs, she's amazing. But this song? Should've been called "Unfortunate" because none of those scenarios that she sings about are ironic, just horribly unfortunate. Especially when her wine gets ruined. I'm all about fishing that fly out and complaining to the waiter so I get a new glass and then chugging it while he's away getting my replacement wine. See? That's not unfortunate! Everybody wins! I know what you're thinking...Ew! A fly was in that! Tell me the last time you heard of someone dying because a fly landed on/in something they ingested. Or even getting sick! I mean, I bet we've all eaten bugs without even knowing it and we're fine! I realize this is assuming that everyone reading this is still alive. It's a chance I'll just have to take.

OK, I think I've got a good start. I'll post the finished list when I'm finished. Until then, I need a sign off line. How about.....um....Fly with the pretty glitter ponies!!! Good? Good.

Dear American Idol Voters,

How can this be? How can I talk to people, hear things on the radio, and read a myriad of articles about this show, all of which love the triumverate of "divas" (as everyone likes to call them) and hate the Red Headed Wonder? How is it that all of these people know what decent singing is? And yet, you seem to have no clue? Are we watching the same show? How could you un-vote the top three singers in the competition into the bottom three? Am I going to write this entire thing in questions? Why are you listening to Paula instead of Simon? Because Paula's so "cute"? Is that why you vote for the RHW?

Here's the deal: The RHW has two gimmicks. He has red hair and he sings Frank Sinatra. Kooky hair is not criterion for an American Idol. For example: Justin Guarini. Sure he made the top two, but where is he now? Chained up in Nigel Lythgoe's basement, that's where. And guess who should be singing Frank Sinatra? FRANK SINATRA! There's a huge difference between the RHW and The Chairman of the Board. Frank had what we like to call "a personality." He was interesting and made funny jokes. The RHW sits on a soda-shop stool and snaps his fingers. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz.........The guy is a total snore! You won't buy his CD! Straight to the clearance bin, I tell you! I mean, maybe I could fathom your "logic" if the guy had a personality. Yes, we had the "nerd turned star" with Clay Aiken, but at least Clay is good at interviewing and has a great voice, even though his range of style (or his "box") is small. The RHW barely even has a box. And did you see his face tonight? He KNEW he sucked and that he should have at least been in the bottom three. Why were all the kids crying? I'll tell you. It's because YOU PEOPLE dial ruthlessly!!! We were doing so well, getting rid of the caucasians and Pacific Islanders! I was really looking forward to African American Idol. But you people have ruined it. You've ruined EVERYTHING! Don't you realize that we are voting for the person that will be over-exposed and shoved in our face for at least a summer??? I don't want to look at the RHW all summer! Please have some sense! Think about the future of America!! The RHW just wants to go home. Didn't you see his face tonight? He just wants out of the varmint-ridden mansion. He wants to go home. He wants America to stop hating him. And it's not so much that we hate him, we actually just hate you for voting for him. Now, let's all get together and vote for someone we can all agree on.

LA TOYA '04

Spaceship Noises and the women who won't tell their kids to can it

I was going to write about how stupid boys are. The only problem is, I really like them. Men, that is. I hate stupid punks who think they need to blare their music on 11 at 3 a.m. These are the same punks who, two Halloweens ago, smashed my pumpkin that I spent 3 hours carving with my daughter. That really pissed me off. But those punks are in like, the seventh grade. I want to talk about men. Men who kill bugs and fix things. Men who move large objects for you. Men who smell so incredibly good even after they've been working for eight hours. Luckily, I have many good men in my life. There are a couple who are allegedly in love with me. That feels good even though I'm pretty sure they're nuts. They have yet to move any large objects for me, though. Then there is the One I'm totally in love with. Don't worry, Men Who Are Allegedly In Love With Me, he doesn't know I'm alive. How can that be, you say? I hear that subtlety is really not my best attribute, but I've really done a good job of keeping this thing under wraps. I think. Then I have my Internet Men. Men who I met in a certain room we'll just call Ocrisis. I only call it that because in the past, there have been some drama-mongers in the bunch. I really think we've got that problem under control. At least for now (oh please I hope). So anyway, it's not like I met these men randomly through IM or anything and they were all "Hey baby, nice pic." Those guys are annoying. Please, don't ever be that guy. Anyway, it was in a group setting and we just talk and goof off and sometimes, those acquaintances spin off into actual friendships. Just like the Jeffersons spun off of Archie Bunker. Some of them I co-watch TV with. Some of them I make fun of other people in Ocrisis with. Some of them I email all day long making fun of TV and Ocrisis.

So, I'm in a restaurant having dinner with my daughter tonight (this has a point, I swear, just go with me here), and there was this little boy. Maybe four years old or so. He kept making these really really loud spaceship noises the WHOLE TIME! At first I was like, is this kid not getting on his mother's nerves? Because he sure as hell is getting on mine. I turn around to check it out only to discover that his mother was not trying at all to shoosh him. As a mother, the first thing I think is, Man, if that was my kid....Then I got on this random train of thought (shocking for me, I know) about how this kid is going to grow up into one of those punks who smashes precious pumpkins. Then he's going to grow up into one of those punks who gets 27 inch woofers in his car to piss off old people (like me). But then he'll probably go off to college and end up like my Internet Man Mark. Mark is the most perfect human I've never met. He lives a good solid 1200 miles away and we'll probably never meet, but he never fails to make me laugh. I keep an article he wrote pinned up in my cubicle for when I'm so mad and frustrated I can't think straight. After I was done thinking about how wonderful Mark is, I realized that Mark was probably a lot like that spaceship kid when he was little. But cuter. So alas, hope was restored for all the pumpkin smashing, 27-inch-woofer-having punks of the world. I mean, I know that not all punks grow up to be witty, smart, very good smelling men. Some of them just grow up to be jerks. And I hate jerks. (Especially the jerks at Bravo who pushed back West Wing to midnight on the East Coast. I don't really care, but Internet Man Sevi cares a lot). Maybe another night, when I'm not so enamored with the members of the opposite gender, I'll have a column just on how much I hate jerks. But for now, it's all about how wonderful men are for all the dinners they buy and doors they open. And how giddy they get over fantasy baseball (something I will never ever understand) and their strange obsessions with motorized vehicles and electronics. I love you all! Except the jerks. I still hate you.

Wacky is SO Overrated

I guess this is supposed to be some sort of introduction? I'm making this blog about my issues, because I have many. In a way, that makes me frighteningly normal. Let's get real here. Everyone has issues and everyone is "psycho" at some point in their life. I often say I'm the most sane person I know. Others would disagree, but that's incongruous because those people don't know everyone I know. All that says is that I'm more sane than that person. Which I am. In a world where everyone's supposed to be crazy and wacky and as "individual" as possible, I feel like I'm this normal, down the middle person who just wants to make fun of the absurdity. Because people really do absurd things to try to project how awesomely original they are. I like to observe. And then I like to make fun of people. So this is perfect! Gosh, how long can these things be? Infinity? Well, this was just a test entry. Hopefully, the next posts will have some sort of structure or train of thought. Although, I'm pretty sure that "stream-of-consciousness" is my best format. You've been warned.