But Halftime is When I Need to Pee

So much work and practice to go into an amazing thing and it's all just ten minutes. I think this deserves so much more applause than the Superbowl halftime shows. Especially the Black Eyed Peas one. And these guys don't even get paid. Let's celebrate their hard work.

Hey Everyone! Don't Look at Me!

My boss once said to me that no one over thirty should have a non-normal ringtone. Of course this was over four years ago and the theme from The Office was what told me someone wanted to chat with me. Oh, how the times have changed and now everyone in my office over forty has a personalized tone while I just have a default repetitive ring.

It may have to do with how easy it is to set up a personal tone. At least that would explain why my boss has ruined the beginning riff of Baba O'Riley for me. But why have I switched to a ringtone that screams "Hey you damn kids, get off my non existent lawn!"? Well, for starters, The Office jingle was fun, but since I don't watch it anymore, I feel like it isn't right to have that be my ringtone. I'm no longer The Simpsons girl I was in my youth despite the fact that tune is timeless. For a little while I had the theme from Entourage but that was me acknowledging this bond my brother and I had enjoying marathons of the show. After a while I felt like a poser using it. Since I got the new phone, I stayed on the most basic tune I could tolerate, though I did dabble with Mah Nà Mah Nà from The Muppets. (That got annoying after three calls).

What I've come to understand about me and personalization is that I like to blend in the crowd. I don't understand personalized license plates, bumper stickers that tell me that you're a closed minded douche bag (I'm translating the anti non Jesus ones.), plate frames that share that you whored yourself to your husband to get the car I'm behind, and so on. For a little while I needed a self esteem boost and put my University Alumni plate frame on my car of I can feel good about one of my greatest life accomplishments. Now I feel like I'm just trying to hold on to some glory of my youth. 

My wardrobe consists of just one T-shirt with writing on it.  I'm mildly uncomfortable wearing it because the display of my fondness for the geek culture is a little too "Look at me and the writing on my boobs!". That being said, you can be sure that I would never get a pair of pants that have "Princess" written on my ass. (Unless I was attempting to being a slut hipster.)

When I was planning my wedding, people kept trying to tell me that I needed a theme. The blogs kept showing these elaborate wedding decorations, invites, and cakes around one unifying pop culture reference or something. Cute for internet infamy, but I'm not sure how much I would like to be married by Admiral Ackbar.

I have friends with personalized plates and they are a special nod to them. It has to do with them and those don't bother me as much as the ones that have a vomit inducing seven character combo that they HEART their GR8 kids or something about their lord and savior. I think we need to go back to the days of it's no one's business, I think I'll leave these little things inside my head. That being said, I need to recheck my privacy settings on Facebook before I go submit my resume. That picture of me with a gun may give people the wrong impression. Or the right one.

Ewww...Disney

While on a trip to Fry's and hovering by the podium while three people attempted to authorize my requested price matching, I realized my elbows were on a list meant for inventory purposes. Fry's Electronics has been the spot of many computer, software, game, and DVD purchases in my adult life, but for those who do not know, they also have a special section for adults. They have the black plastic protecting the eyes of children who wander in, but it's a little fun at times to go in and think "some people pay for this?"

So this inventory list was filled with, you guessed it, DVDs with some amusing titles. Being an adult and all, I tried to ignore it, but it was more difficult to ignore (what I was assuming) two DVDs that were close to the list that I decided were returns and needed to be put back on the shelf. Looking closer I realized that one was not meant to be in the special section but was actually a Disney title that could be translated into porn. The best part was underneath it was a porn title that was taken from a popular Disney title. (I know it was public domain, but it was popularized by Disney.) This was the laugh I got for a very frustrating day. I'll let you enjoy it as well.

Can you imagine this in the Disney Vault?

Samples and Swatches

I have to give my love to Todd in the Shadows. Since watching his wonderful commentaries on pop music, my music wish list has grown. And a lot of the time, it is full of music I'm a little ashamed that I want. But in addition to that, my game of music roulette has morphed from will we hear Adele or Lady Gaga first to taking a running tally of songs reviewed by Todd to see which one wins.

His recent review of Pittbull's Back in Time (I must point out that I had never heard of Pitbull until I saw the review of Give Me Everything) had me revisit a previous observation I had that about remakes or songs that sample. When I was younger, I considered this practice blasphemy. I was too naive to understand this is a long time practice and sadly I admit that I was well into high school when I realized that Queen is responsible for Vanilla Ice's we'll call "fame". But many songs that I liked that I thought were pure were remakes of lesser know artists (I think is the best way to go. Enhance a little known song and improve. Or place a flavor and make it your own. It is really difficult to improve that which is already considered to be wonderful and what is the point if it is a generic version. Yeah I mean you, MADONNA!) So now that I've become less judgmental, I understand remakes and samples have their place in the world.

I will point out however, that most of the time remakes and samples not done with care will end up ruining both songs for me. If you did listen to Back in Time, the guitar riff from Mickey and Sylvia's Love is Strange is great. I do not know why he decided to take the same chorus and having a hard time figuring out how "you're the one" works with the rest of the song. I bet it was like the free pile at a garage sale. Pitbull was already picking so even though he didn't need it, he already stole the riff so might as well take the chorus. Well, the techno beat added to the song and speeding it up is now what has been pounded into my head. I'm a little ashamed to admit I like the song, but my husband points out that I like the original song so the sum of its parts is good if not better. But now if I go back and listen to the original, it's too damn slow for my enjoyment. So Back in Time leaves something to be desired and Love is Strange is too slow to be enjoyed. Screw you Pittbull. And while I'm at it, fuck you Sean Kingston for killing Ben E. King and a mild slap on the wrist to Me First andtThe Gimmee Gimmees for Walking on Sunshine. I like that song, but their version isn't on the radio as much as their now too slow predecessor. 

Some do get it right. The Fugees' Killing Me Softly does not step on Roberta Flack's version. The Fugees changed the pace but since it did not speed it up the delicacy of Roberta Flack's version remains in tact. In fact, they sped it up in some spots and slowed it down in others so how can we be pissed? Well, my mom is, but that's okay.

Lesson is be original, people. You will not have this problem with an original idea. You'll have other problems, but still. I know that it is difficult to hear a declaration to be original from someone who is half ripping off Todd in the Shadows. Fine, I'll take off my mask (As far as you know).

Magic Abs

The other night I had a dream that it would be a good idea to see Magic Mike. I do not care for Channing Tatum and he kind of annoys me because for someone who is very famous, he hasn't been in very much (sort of like Clive Owen) and it makes it difficult to explain who the hell he is. My husband thinks Dakota Fanning every time his name comes up. Makes sense since they both have last names as first names.

I think the hard part of the male stripper movie is that I will probably see this before Goodfellas or Apocalypse Now. Before you take away my Entertainment Junkie status, let me point out that these are very important movies that I hesitate to watch because they are considered to be holy in many circles. The last time I watched a movie that fit into the category of excellent film making, it was Glengarry Glen Ross and it hurt me to watch it.

I'll call it a great film, but I do not want to watch important films with my tiny window of time between work and sleep. I want to laugh or feel more than vicarious desperation. I will admit that while my time is precious, I took a weekend to watch three Twilight films. Again, before the outrage comes out, they were laced with Rifftrax. I made a decision to be an informed hater of Twilight and the jokes inter-spliced made it possible to not want to kill myself like Bella tried in the second one(or something).

You may be thinking, oh sure, you have time for the movies with guys who are constantly shirtless, what's up with that? Coincidence. I find that movie pulp seems to include shirtless men since women seem to have money too. Also, you people are sick because Taylor Lautner was underage in those movies and you know with my Josh Hutcherson crush, I like them legal and not Taylor Lautner. I sway more in the direction of Doctor Vampire or Mustache Dad. The point is they all have their clothes on so leave me alone.

God Bless Garfunkel and Oates

Eventually I will get to my post about the politics of Facebook and what one should post, but because the majority of my Facebook friends are mothers, it is best my thoughts are here instead.

Garfunkel and Oates have wonderfully captured my pain and put it in a song that had me feel a little better after having issues on Mother's Day. I had a theory that Mother's Day is to Valentine's Day as non-mothers are to singles, but then my husband pointed out that it shouldn't be non-mothers, it should be orphans. (This also explains why he did so much better on the SATs than I did. Also, I didn't study.)

So I would like to extend my gratitude to these two fantastic artist that have put a great spin on my issues. They are helping me not hate and instead laugh. 

Choices...Take Them Away!

May has been a tough month for me. I was anticipating the graduations and confirmations for months in advance so watching family members transition from one part of life to another was an expected punch to my brain. What I didn't expect was to come home to my husband with a concerned, but strangely happy look on his face with the news that he was to be laid off in two weeks. The smile was from all the perks they were throwing at him before they gave him the boot. "No paycheck, but whatever you can carry out of your office that isn't bolted down is yours." 

For two weeks I went through a nervous period of preparing myself with being the sole breadwinner. To soothe my control freak, my husband began his job search and through a series of calls, interviews, and negotiations, was hired on with a new company making very much more money and receiving better benefits. My sigh of relief very quickly turned into a downward spiral of cries from depression. What I knew since the day I met him was smacking me in the face eleven years later. This man has more potential, intelligence, and will accomplish more than I could ever hope. That's why I locked him down early while he was an insecure mess of a college freshman.

Of course this is good news for us and our familial unit. But as a hard nosed, "get the hell away from me I can do it myself" girl, this was a huge blow to my ego. My mother-in-law without knowing how much this has damaged my self esteem keeps telling me that it's okay, and he can take care of us when it's time to.....It occurred to me she hasn't blatantly stated let the man take care of you, and make some babies, but the words don't have to come out of her mouth for the message to sting my uterus.

So baby issues, job issues, I've taken a few blows from work it make me realize that I'm horribly unhappy there, but I've been testing myself to see what the breaking point is to leave a well paying job five minutes from home. Seeing other people's successes are enough to make me cry and throw tantrums like a five year old. Hearing my sister ask me what's wrong and relieved that it's only about work crushes me even more and teaches me that my first instinct to never share my petty problems with people who have children (and therefore real problems) was correct.

This has become a bit heavy for an entertainment blog so what is my point in sharing all this? Well, back in September I received a "gift" of a newspaper subscription from my boss. I quote the word gift because my boss didn't tell me when the paper started to come to the office that is was for me. When he did, he told me that he got it from my other bosses son's fund raiser, he already got the paper so, you know, Merry Christmas. Then December 28th rolled around and I realized he wasn't kidding. That was my Christmas present. It is a great present in general, but it was a steak served to me on a trash can. I keep getting letters telling me my subscription is about to end and I couldn't be happier because during my busy period I'm letting them stack up and can't get to them. I hate being wasteful and I will read all the articles I can. 

This weekend I left the office with a two week's worth of pile in the corner. I was pissed that I forgot them at the office and couldn't use the weekend to catch up. So I walk in and the pile is gone. It occurred to me that the cleaning service people saw them next to the recycling bin and not in their usual pile next to my filing cabinet so they gathered them up and took them away. Before I get judged that the maid stile my precious not appreciated present from my diamond encrusted cubicle, everyone shut up, this is my life.

I was pissed for about five seconds because my project was taken from me. Then I was happily relieved. Something thrown on me that I just let accumulate like the very reason I avoid a Netflix subscription was taken from my possession, against my choice, and it is glorious. If you were to read the blog Get Rich Slowly, this would be referred to as The Tyranny Of Stuff. But for me it was the Tyranny of Choice. I was happy to have this tiny burden lifted from me. It now makes me sad to have such a small thing bring me such great comfort. 

Sort of a sad commentary on my life as of late. But I will find courage to face my well paid husband and show him that if he wants to take care of me, he can go fuck himself. I'm just kidding, my husband is very supportive my bringing home the Bacos.