Wednesday, February 11, 2009

To grandmother's house we go.. sure has changed since I was a kid!

When I was a young girl, to Grandmother’s house we go, was a very different adventure then the one we have today. So as we contemplate a ten-hour road trip to my folks house, I can’t help but think about those trips back then and how much things have changed.

My family is very large, five kids, me being next to the youngest. We had a car similar to that of the Griswald's complete with fake wood trim on the sides and a third row that faced backwards. Us kids always fought over who had to sit on the hump and you knew you had no pull if you were in the very back hump (my designated spot). We had no portable DVDs, iPods and we all were forced to listen to the AM radio, station of my parent’s choice (summer - baseball, winter - easy listening).

We did load up on books, car games such as license plate bingo and find-a-words. And without fail, every trip, my parents would pull out the “count the cow” game. Which looking back on it, they must have had quite a laugh that they were able to pull this one over on us because it is the most ridiculous, pointless game ever conceived. We would drive from Pittsburgh to West Virginia most trips and endured a number of rural roads though a lot of farmland. The one thing you can count on is a lot of cows.

The game was played with two teams, the Right side and Left. Being the designated “hump person” it hardly mattered which team I joined in on, as for many of the early years, I wasn’t even able to count. There were only a few rules, one point for every cow you can count on your side. See a white horse, get 500 points, pass a cemetery and lose all your points.

We would pass herds of cattle; too many to count as you’re speeding down a two-lane highway doing 70. It was the folks in the very back who were expected to pick up the count after the front facers had lost their field of vision. It was quite amazing that the back seat kids knew exactly which animal to pick up the count again, but they always came through for their team.

It seems we would play that game for hours, but it was probably only for ten – twenty minutes at a time. I imagine that it got interrupted by my constant carsickness, someone complaining about being touched by another or a “I gotta go pee!” proclamation from one of the car’s occupants. And still, I’m sure my parents still get a good chuckle over getting all their kids to play a game that had no point, no real winner and play like it was the last game for the pennant.

Now that I have a child of my own, I’ve found a new respect for how brave my parents were! Five kids, packed in a station wagon? No way would I have the courage to do that… not with out my iPod, satellite radio, DVDs, aqua doodle, computer with air card and… front facing seat!

Nadya, oh Nadya...

REALLY? All that talk to Ann Curry about how you're going to take care of the kids, how you're so mature and so capable, so up to the challenge... and today I find:

So Octomom, I'll make you this promise: You check yourself into a long term, in patient mental health facility, and I'll donate some cold hard green stuff into your gimmefund. Heck, I'll even use Paypal so that you don't have to wait for credit card to process.

For the good of yourself, your kids, your mother... run, don't walk. Hell, call them up, the men in white jackets will come and pick your delusional ass up!

I will give you snaps for finding 8 names that all end in ah. I'm sure that took you a few weeks.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Psuedo-celebrities: my entertainment and some wisdom to a few in the limelight

Confession: I love pop culture, and especially now when seldom a week goes by when I’m not giddy about something stupid that ends up on our airwaves. Maybe I’m just older and have achieved a new level of cynicism, but seriously, some of the stuff people do is just beyond stupid, particularly those who are famous and those who want to be. The drive to be in the public’s eye has become such a force that it’s hard to imagine what people will do next.

Now, I’m not referring to MTV, music and fashion trends, in fact, with the exception of VH1’s Celebrity Rehab (now Sober House), I don’t even visit those channels (even Dr. Dru, I TiVo). I’m talking about how celebrity stupid is at an all time high, and folks willing to do anything to become celebrity has reached catastrophic levels. I take a sick pleasure in reading the drama of stars and those trying to become them. It boggles my mind and I find a certain peace with my own existence knowing that however fat, poor, and confused I am; there are people out there earning money for being self absorbed. And yeah, I’ll read about it every time! They don't live in my world, they are fabulously ridiculous and I won't say I love them, but I do love the entertainment they provide me!

Oh the joy I feel when I see Mariah and Nick wearing matching ski outfits, Pam Anderson showing off her camel toe in a bathing suit four sizes too small. Though perplexing, I enjoy seeing Adrianna and Kim dodge the paparazzi as though they were Hollywood royalty – and knowing that they probably called the press to alert them of their where-abouts. And you can argue about how these people deserve their privacy, but if you think about it, there are stars far more interesting then Paris or Brittney, with real careers of major accomplishment, that you seldom see in random photos coming out of the dry-cleaners. These people seek it out, and that’s why I find it so hilarious!

So it is with this in mind, I feel the need to have a little personal commentary on a few recent events.

First, Jessica Simpson, no, I don’t think that a size 8 is fat in the real world; frankly, a size 8 would be a personal victory for me. However, when your job, that you get paid butt-loads of money to do, is to be a hottie – then get on the flipping treadmill and stop with the Twinkies! And if that doesn’t seem to be with in your grasp, then at least hire a decent stylist to dress you in things that any respectable size 8 knows better then wearing in public. Sweetheart, high-wasited pants, not good on almost anyone. So dear Jessie, suck it up, stop buying the shoes, refrain from getting your hair colored every other day and call Nutri-System, it worked for Marie Osmond, it could work for you. Say what you will, but it’s not like she’s got some great voice, she gets paid for the way she looks, and that payday is going to end if she keeps expanding at this rate.

Second, Speidi, I really don’t know who you are or why you deserve to be on Yahoo!’s OMG four to five times a week, but go away. You both have a “almost anyone” look about you that isn't exactly special and what ever you’ve accomplished to be in the public eye is so mundane that it’s never even referred to. Any person who calls the media for a photo op at the dollar store is just sad, a couple that feels the need to do this… I shed a tear. Truth, I really don't follow the Speidi thing, But I do find it fascinating that these two fairly obscure random people have so much attention? When did Wonderbread become so fabulous?

Thirdly, and this probably requires it’s own dedicated post, Octo-mom. Please, for the sake of your children, your parents and all of us – run, don’t walk and check your very disturbed ass into a mental institution for a long in –patient stay. I’ve heard you speak; you’re confused on levels that only professionals can truly understand. You’re killing your mom, you live in a pig-sty, you’re the object of major public ridicule that I’m sure you justify by saying you’re misunderstood. You’re not qualified to give parenting advice; you don’t deserve the publicity you’re getting. My sincere hope is that the media will boycott you and stop feeding your sick desire to be the star of another large family reality show with a more advanced mathematical equation as the title (Jon and Kate plus eight minus Jon plus pissed of Grandmother plus six more with possibility of more eggs in a test tube in the future!). All the freebies and opportunities being provided this woman for running a personal puppy mill needs to stop! Give it to her poor mother, she deserves it and frankly, I'm afraid she's about to run - and then what will happen to those poor little babies!

Oh and by the way, please let me clarify something for you, Octomom, public assistance is the same as being on Welfare! And you’ve pissed me off that I have to pay for your delusions of grandeur. I’d be far more willing to pay for you to be locked up in a whacky ward for life – at least that way, I know that everyone, kids included, are cared for!