Apparently I was mistaken. The TP at work is actually 2-ply. However, they're really thin plies, and they are apparently made of ground up glass and broken dreams.
That is all.
Jan 292010
Jan 242010
In November 2003, Shawn, Emily, and I had Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment in Sevierville, Tennessee. Shawn and I had gone shopping a couple of nights before, I had done most of the cooking, and we ate ourselves sick. We had to have our dinner before Thanksgiving, since we had to perform shows all day on Thanksgiving day proper. In mid-meal, there was a knock on the door, and I got to learn, first hand, what Brown could do for me. It was the UPS man with a box for me. (I’m really fighting the urge to put a tasteless joke about a big package from the UPS man…and I’m failing.) Anyway, inside this large package (ahem) was a little invention that changed my life forever. The ever-blessed TiVo Series 2.
Since that day, I have never been without a TiVo in my life…except for that truly painful four months after I left hell Tennessee where I lived at home with my mom in Michigan. It wasn’t the living with my mom that was painful, it’s that a) my parents to this day still don’t have a DVR, and b) my mother is incapable of correctly channel surfing when commercials are on. She’s like a little kid who sees a bright shiny–she just flips to another channel and gets engrossed until a commercial comes on on that channel, then she’ll flip to a third channel, etc. The woman has never watched an entire television show from beginning to end in her whole adult life. It’s enough to drive me up the wall. (HI MOM!)
Anyway, since that wonderful day 6 1/2 (!) years ago when I waltzed from the world of the commercial watchers into the much more sophisticated and urbane world of the television time shifters, I nearly never watch commercials. If I can’t generate that satisfying little "bloop, bloop, bloop" sound and fast forward though 5 minutes of mind-meltingly stupid television advertising, then as far as I’m concerned, I’d rather not watch TV at all.
Every great once in a while, though, I run out of things to watch on my TiVo. It doesn’t happen that often, but with the truly abysmal quality of most of the primetime television on this season, I will often find myself flipping the channel to Food Network or HGTV and just letting it play in the background while I cook, eat, or pack up my life for the 5,000th time into boxes and prepare to move once again not that I’m bitter.
It was during one of these times of television background noise that a certain commercial was brought to my attention. And, my fellow Americans, It. Was. NOT. Okay.
Perhaps you have seen this commercial. It contains a couple of little animated bears hocking Charmin toilet paper. They’ve, apparently, been in a whole series of commercials, and they look like this:
Cute, right? Except in this particular commercial, a mother bear catches her young cub looking through a telescope at the ass of another bear who is sitting up in a tree and who, apparently , has toilet paper remnants stuck to said ass. There are many, many things wrong with this commercial. First, a voyeuristic child is using a telescope to spy on an adult going to the bathroom. And apparently, is getting so up close and personal that he can notice mini TP dingleberries in the adult’s butt hair. Secondly, the kid’s mother is RIGHT THERE. Wake up, mama bear! I don’t know about you, but if I had a kid who was so fascinated with watching the bathroom habits of the neighbors with a telescope, I’d have that kid in front of either a psychotherapist or priest so fast it would make his head spin. But no, you just sit there and think it’s cute. "Ah look honey. Little cubby’s got a sick fascination with the neighbor’s toilet time. Better call Dr. Freud!"
Apparently, this is not the only commercial where Charmin thinks it’s okay to go probing (ahem) through the annals (AHEM) of toilet paper posterior problems. Thanks to YouTube, I have since seen a mother chasing her cub (who, by the way, has the most annoying giggle ever recorded) around the forest with a dustpan and broom to remove "leftover pieces of toilet paper." Call me kooky, but somehow, I think that a hand broom and a dustpan aren’t really the best tools to take care of the problem of left over toilet paper.
And then there’s the commercial that spawned this screen capture, which I found by typing in the words "Charmin Bears":
![[charmin+bears.png]](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p1OBNr1Hz14/SfkkD1tbRLI/AAAAAAAAAPA/g70TSljeK6A/s1600/charmin%2Bbears.png)
Yikes. I don’t exactly know what’s going on in this picture, I’m pretty sure this is probably how most gay porn films start. "Hey coach, do I look like I have any extra toilet paper on my butt?"
Here’s my question, though: Is this really a problem? I mean, let’s be honest here. I’ve got a very screwed up digestive system. I visit the bathroom more times a day than anyone I know. I can manage to go through a truly heroic amount of toilet paper in a week. I’ve never had problems with leftover toilet paper sticking where it doesn’t belong. And I don’t use Charmin. I use Cottonelle. Exclusively. And I have for a long time. And I got to thinking: who, exactly, are these commercials trying to reach. What’s the intended audience? I’m set in my toilet paper ways. And I’m certainly not being swayed into switching by watching animated ursine fetishists.
Then there’s this:
Seriously, Charmin? SERIOUSLY? I’m sorry, but I’ve been using dry toilet paper for nearly 30 years now. I’m not going to start buying what are, in essence, baby wipes, even if the moron you’ve got doing your product demo is so mentally challenged he can’t get toothpaste off his hand with toilet tissue. For experimentation’s sake, I was able to get it off my hand in a single swipe, and my skin didn’t even taste like toothpaste afterwards. What’s your problem, dimwit?
All of this contemplation about toilet paper got my mind going. First, I needed to gather some information. Then, I needed to parse and mull on said information. Then I needed to take a good long look at why the subject of toilet paper preferences fascinates me so deeply and investigate the myriad of other things I could have spent my mental currency on that would have made a positive difference to the world or my personal life. But instead, I wrote a quick post in the middle last week to get some information about toilet paper. And I learned some interesting things:
- When it comes to toilet paper, there are generally two kinds of people: Those who have a single brand that they stand behind with a religious furvor, and those who buy whatever happens to be cheapest.
- Those people who buy specific toilet papers only because they’re cheap are horrible, horrible people, and we can no longer be friends.
- Surprisingly, Angel Soft seems to be the most popular brand. I don’t get it. Compared to Cottonelle or the TP of the creepy bears, Angel soft just doesn’t compare.
- One ply toilet paper is universally loathed, and the only people who think it is appropriate to buy, even despite it’s very low cost, are the people responsible for purchasing supplies for companies who obviously don’t give a rat’s ass (no pun intended) about the physical well-being of their employees. In fact, my employer, whose name rhymes with Nicroloft, buys toilet paper that is simultaneously so thin that you can see your own fingerprints through it and so roughly processed that it will give you splinters. I’m sorry, but if I wanted to rub wood pulp across my sphincter, I’d go outside, pull down my pants, and rub my butt up against a pine tree. For someone who has to go to the restroom as often as I do, (warning: overshare ahead) I have actually had the toilet paper at work make me bleed. Now, when someone says, "that really chaps my ass," I know first hand what they means.
- Toilet paper should always be hung with the leading squares coming up over the top of the roll. ALWAYS. If you do it any other way you’re wrong. If you ever come into my house and turn the toilet paper over so it’s coming out of the bottom of the roll, you’re forever uninvited from my house. Overhand only.
And finally, for the service of those readers who mentioned this in their comments, I would like to provide you a few rules about toilet paper etiquette which you must follow, at the risk of having your toilet paper privileges taken away forever.
- If you finish a roll of toilet paper, it is your responsibility to replace the roll of toilet paper. Failure to do so means that there will be no place in heaven for you in the next life. Fail to replace the roll and go to Hell. It’s that simple.
- Replacing the roll means taking off the old paper tube, and replacing the roll completely on the dispenser. It does not mean setting it on the counter. It does not mean placing it on the floor. It, under no circumstance, means simply placing it on top of the empty tube which your lazy rear end left in the dispenser. Failure to fully replace the empty roll will result in severe beatings.
- Please, for the love of all things good an holy, PLEASE leave at least one extra roll in the bathroom at all times. Do NOT keep all your extra toilet paper out in the hallway closet. Because if I run out TP in your house, and there’s not an extra roll in the bathroom, I will walk out of your bathroom with my pants around my ankles doing that bent-knee wide stance waddle so as not to cause any smearing. Then I will waddle into your living room, sit down, and start dragging my butt across the carpet like a dog with worms. You have been warned.
Now you know.
So, what did my mental foray into the world of toilet tissue teach me? First, that toilet tissue is very personal, and that the way I do it is right, and the way everyone else does it is wrong unless they do it just like me. That being cheap when it comes to toilet paper will only end in heartache. That it’s really hard to find a decent way to refer to your own anus as a "Brown-Eyed Susan" without making it sound forced. That the Charmin bears are freaky, and more than a little creepy, and most of all…
I need to start TiVo’ing more television shows.
Jan 222010
Dear Martin + Osa
I love your store. I really, really do. I shop there almost exclusively. I have brought my friends to meet you. I talk about you all the time. I’ve even introduced you to my mom. You’re the only store that manages to make stylish clothing for people who are too old to shop at American Eagle, but not old enough to shop at Mervyn’s, who aren’t interested in spending the equivalent of three month’s mortgage payments on a single jacket, and who don’t want to look as though they’re old enough to need black Velcro orthopedic shoes. You are reasonably priced, but your clothes are of very high quality, and of a design that real people would generally want to wear.
But I have to tell you. This season’s collection is a complete and total fail for me. I looks like a bad cross between hipster punk and snotty New England WASP. If I wanted to look like a stuck up, rich retiree in Nantucket, I would buy my clothes from Nautica. But a cable-knit navigator sweater with White Skinny Jeans (which should be outlawed entirely) is not a good look for anyone. There is so much wrong with this collection it’s hard to know where to begin.
It pains me to see you stumble so, especially after such an awesome holiday season. (I bought two shirts and four sweaters, so you know I’m devoted.) But I honestly can’t get behind these rejects from a Yale college bookstore circa 1936. I’m just glad that I was introduced to you before I saw these clothes, or I would probably never have bothered stopping by again.
Here’s to hoping that the Summer collection is little less embarrassing.
Love, Matt.
P.S., Please, for the love of all things good and holy, PLEASE make the skinny jean die a slow and painful death. Only 0.02% of the population has the body type capable of pulling off the skinny jean, and not a single one of those 0.02% is male.
Late last week, I stepped out my apartment door with the dog for our morning walk and saw this:
Sunrise over Lake Sammamish
1/14/2010
Redmond, WA
Canon 7d, ISO 400, 18mm, F6.3
Now, ask me if I miss Utah…
Jan 212010
I’m looking to get some information from my erudite and insightful reader about a particular subject. There is a blog post simmering in my mind on a particular subject, but before I begin writing, I need some data. Please answer these questions in the comments below:
- What brand of toilet paper do you use in your home
- Why did you choose that particular brand
- What is your #1 consideration when selecting toilet paper
- Are there any brands you refuse to use?
- Why?
- Which do you believe to be the right way to hang toilet paper: with the paper hanging over the top of the roll, or with the paper coming from underneath the roll?
- Are you (no pun intended) anal about the method of hanging toilet paper?
- Any other toilet paper-related stories, comments, or questions.
Thank you for your participation. Hopefully your efforts will yield fruit in a future blog post.
Jan 182010
Hello, blog readers and blog lurkers. Sorry I haven’t been writing much lately. I feel as though I’m having a difficult time coming up with pithy, insightful commentary about my life or the lives of those around me. And I don’t have any cute children to photograph and show off on my website. I’ve got a dog, but I already talk about him enough. I have toyed around with the idea of becoming a crazy cat lady, but my apartment isn’t big enough to have a litterbox laying around…especially since my dog has shown a marked interest in cat leavings, so that’s off the table for the short term, I believe.
My life has been relatively uneventful lately. I’m starting to decend into the annual Seattle Winter Doldrums, exacerbated by the fairly omni-present rain. This year it’s not bothering me as much as it has the last couple of years…probably because I’m on an earlier schedule at work, so I get to leave work while it’s still light outside. That, and I have a wall of windows in my cubicle, so I am able to see the sun for the 45 seconds a day it actually shines. The weather has been wet, but quite mild, and we’ve already got daffodils up at the apartment complex. They’re up about 2-3 inches already and we’re not even all the way through January yet.
I’m also getting ready for the big move. I’m excited for my new apartment, which I think will be extremely nice. I am ready to get over there. But I don’t like the moving process. I’m just moving 150 feet away, but I’ve already had to start packing up my stuff. I’ve done this enough that I’ve gotten pretty good at it, but it’s still a big time sink, my apartment is in a constant state of disarray, and I hate not knowing where all my stuff is when I need it. I sincerely hope that I can get the apartment complex to stop screwing me over when it comes to jacking up my rent every time my lease expires, because I’d like to stay in this new apartment for a good long while. Preferably until I get my bankruptcy off my credit history in a few years and have saved up enough money for a sizeable down payment. (Like that optimism? I’m working on it.)
Personally, things have been a little rocky. There are some family stresses right now which don’t affect (effect? I can never tell) me personally, but that have occupied my thoughts and worries quite a bit lately. I’ve been a little worried about money what with the double rent that I’ll be paying for two weeks next month. I should be fine, but I don’t like not having any cushion. I’ve gotten to the point of my diet exercise phase where I’m having a hard time sticking to my goals. And I’ve been pretty contemplative lately. I’ve been evaluating my status, adjusting my expectations, and in generally, trying to determine where I want the course of my personal life to lead me over the next few years of my life. All in all, it’s led me to feel relatively unsettled, and in some cases, a little discouraged.
At least I am able to look at the pattern, realize that this happens every year about this time, and recognize it for what it is. And I’m still able to be productive and work to be proactive.
I’m making some good progress on some of my resolutions, not so good progress (and in one case, regress) on others.
And the result of all of this is that I set in my apartment at 11:30, ripping audiobooks from CDs to listen to on my runs, and writing wishy-washing blog posts about how my life is a great big pile of "meh." Exciting reading, isn’t it? But, to quote the inestimable Stephen Sondheim, "I’m still here." Still keeping myself busy and working on plugging through the winter rain. Still working on audiobooks (which I just LOVE doing), and playing video games, and doing taxes, and packing, and all that fun stuff.
And hopefully, this fit of the "meh’s" will be a short one, and I’ll be back to my usual glowing, ebullient (and mildly sarcastic) self.
Jan 132010
OH HAI! Remember me? I used to blog here.
Well, when the holidays concluded, I weighed a hefty 198.6 pounds. DANGEROUSLY close to breaking my vow to myself that I would never cross over the 200 pound mark, ever in my life. So, starting on December 28th, I began Operation Fatty McFat-Fat Killer (working title.) The goal, as mentioned previously, is to lose approximately 20 pounds, getting down to a much more manageable 175, and to get more in shape in preparation for my big hike this summer. So far, so good. This morning, I weighed in at 189.0 pounds. That’s nearly 10 pounds in two weeks. I can’t complain too much.
I’ve also been exercising…some. I started by taking Luke running on the streets a few times, but then I got shin splints, and stopped doing that. I’ve been doing some treadmill running at my apartment complex, and I’m beating myself up on the stair-steppers at the gym. I’m also doing some very minor weight lifting…mostly core strength stuff. I’m far more focused on losing fat than I am on gaining a lot a muscle right now, so I’m doing a little lifting just to help improve my metabolism, but not enough to bulk up at all.
I really, really hate exercising. REALLY. HATE. IT. With a fiery passion. You know how most people say they feel great after working out, or they get that endorphin rush? I don’t. I never have. Not even when I had been doing 2-hour workouts five days a week for six months. I always feel like garbage after working out. I can’t possible exercise before work because after I’m done, I absolutely have to take a nap or I can’t function. So, working out is a major struggle for me, and will continue to be.
The eating thing, however, that’s become a whole lot easier. Back when I still had friends roommates, I would often do the cooking for the whole house. Because, with the possible exception of Nate and Brett, I don’t know that I’ve ever had roommates that were anywhere near as proficient in the kitchen as I was. Maybe I did, but I never found out, because I was always doing the cooking. Anyway, when you cook, it’s all about combining ingredients and flavors to make a fantastic meal. Eating for weight loss, for me, anyway, is a lot different. It’s extremely difficult to accurately track your calories when you’re cooking meals with tons of ingredients.
However, since living on my own, I’ve discovered that I don’t enjoy cooking as much for myself as I do for other people. So naturally, my eating had gotten a lot simpler. Previously, it was largely fast food. No cooking, no clean-up, no problem. But obviously, fast food isn’t so great for the whole weight loss thing, so that’s off the table. However, when you cook and serve ingredients separately, it’s much easier to track your caloric intake. For instance, if I wanted to make salmon before, I might have marinated the salmon in lime juice, honey, and green chile, then grill it, and serve it with a mango peach salsa and a large side of rich, cheesy risotto. That simple recipe is actually very difficult to calculate the actual nutritional value without having to find out the values of each individual ingredient, which could take 30 minutes to look up online. And if it takes longer to figure out the nutritional value of a recipe than it does to cook the meal, you’re not going to track your calories.
Instead, eating for weight loss is more about preparation methods than it is recipes. It’s about eating just the food without all the extras. For instance. I now have a salmon fillet grilled or baked, some plain brown rice with 1/2 a teaspoon of butter, and steamed cauliflower. Sure, it’s majorly lacking in the flavor department, but at least it’s easy to track exactly what I’m eating. And tracking what you eat really is the only way to really lose weight. There is a scientific principle (I can’t remember the name and Google failed me) which states that it is impossible to observer or measure something without changing it somewhat. That’s especially true when it comes to food intake. You begin change what you eat because you see your calorie allowance been raped and pillaged by excruciatingly small amounts of food, so you start eating lower calorie foods naturally. And by measuring, you actually limit your portions in a way that you wouldn’t if you weren’t tracking.
So my eating has become much more healthy in the last two weeks…even if it’s been somewhat lacking in variety.
Breakfast: Oatmeal with 1/2 a banana almost every day. Occasionally a "healthier" cold cereal with skim milk or peanut butter toast. Usually runs about 200-300 calories.
Lunch: Perhaps the greatest boon to my eating change is the presence of Chandry’s, a natural foods cafe in the food court in the commons at work. We just moved into a new building complex in May of last year, and it has a huge commons area with a bank, post office, salon, gift shop, outdoor shop, and about 20 different restaurants. Chandry’s has been my lifesaver. All of their food is all natural, prepared very simply. It’s a walk in the park to pick food to eat that is easy to measure. Most days, I’ll have either roasted turkey, grilled chicken, or grilled fish, usually Tilapia or Salmon. I’ll usually get some brown rice, a little fresh fruit, and some grilled veggies (carrots, zucchini, green beans). Lunch usually runs about 400 calories, and leaves me extremely full.
Dinner: This is where things get a little tricky for me. I’m on a strict no fast food diet except for my cheat days (more on that later.) So I’m cooking every single night. Or, at the very least, re-heating in the microwave. Occasionally I’ll have some baked salmon and rice for dinner, but usually, by the time I get home at the end of the day, I want something a little more "together." So, I’ve been trying to find some recipes that are healthy, and already have the nutritional information figured out. This week I had a stir-fry of steak strips with steamed veggies and soba noodles. Tonight I made Vermicelli with roasted veggies and parmesan. Next week I’m planning on making a pot of my amazing Turkey Meatball and Orzo soup which I will serve with steamed veggies on the side. It’s a little harder to track recipes like this, but I try to make an effort for dinner, at least, because having something that’s more like a meal than like a bunch of individual elements make me long for my Panda Express Orange Chicken just a little less. I usually try to keep my dinners to around 600 calories.
Snack: With the new year, work has axed the practice of allowing us lowly contractors to get overtime, which is totally fine for me, because I hate getting overtime. I’d rather have more time off than get more money, thanks. I also started on an earlier schedule (8-4) which means that I get home earlier in the day, and usually eat my dinner by 5:00 or 5:30. I absolutely must have something else to eat before I go to bed otherwise I’ll wake up hungry in the middle of the night, and end up eating something that a) probably isn’t all that healthy and b) I will forget to track in my calorie count. And usually, I try to satisfy my insatiable sweet tooth a little. This is my biggest hurdle. Most nights I have to talk myself down from the ledge of whipping up a quick Molten Chocolate Cake. I did try making a grilled Peanut Butter and Banana sandwich after watching a segment on the Food Network, and I’m completely hooked. I didn’t think I would like it, but it’s REALLY good. Plus, it’s less than 200 calories if you do it right. Either that, or I’ll have one of those 100 calorie bags of popcorn and an orange or apple.
For tracking my calorie spend, I’m using a really cool website called FitDay.com. It allows you to track your food, your activity, and your weight. And it’s free. And since it’s accessible when I am at work as well as at home, I seem to do a better job of entering my food that I eat during the day. In fact, since I eat my lunch at my desk, I usually take a few minutes to enter breakfast, lunch, and what I expect to have for dinner and my snack that night during my actual lunchtime. It works well for me.
So, it’s the 13th of January, and I’m already down 9.6 pounds. Just 14 more to go!
Jan 072010
Often, when I sit down to write a blog post, I have no idea what I’m going to write. I’ll just sit down and start writing, hit upon a vein I like, and then start the post over with a little more focus. Every so often, however, I actually mull over a topic for days. I stand in the show and come up with my snarky comments or arguments. I’ll start looking for funny pictures to include in my post. This post is one of the latter. I read a column from Orson Scott Card which got me thinking. I actually stood in the shower this morning and tried to determine how I wanted to express myself on the subject. So, imagine my surprise when I got to work, logged onto my computer, and found that my friend, WhiteEyebrows, had written a post that very closely matched my own thoughts. However, as I don’t really care if people think I’m a copycat, I’m going to write my post anyway.
I used to watch a lot of television. I used to really enjoy it. But over the last year or so, many of the shows that I used to love watching ended their runs. Others became so hackneyed and clunky that they quickly made their way off my TiVo season pass list. My TV watching has been whittled down to 3-4 hours of TV a day to 3-4 shows a week: I watch The Simpsons when I eat or cook meals. I watch Family Guy, The Biggest Loser, Good Eats, So You Think You Can Dance, and will watch Lost when it comes on in February. And starting this fall, I began watching Glee.
For those who don’t watch Glee, I’m not going to try and explain the premise of the show to you. If your television is EVER tuned to the Fox network, you have undoubtedly seen enough in the promos to get a fairly decent glimpse into the show. It is certainly not everybody’s cup of tea. I watch it every single week. But here’s the thing: I’m not really sure why I watch it every single week. The show simultaneously delights and infuriates me.
Wasted Potential. There is nothing more frustrating to me as a patron of the popular video arts than seen a very promising concept almost-but-not-quite reach its potential. And Glee just barely misses the mark pretty much every single time. It drives me nuts.
Despite having walked away from the performing arts, my heart is still much much among the musical theater nerds. I was never in choir, but I went to a university that has one of the most well-travelled and well-known show choirs in the world. They were an exclusive cult who never failed to engender both contempt and envy. And, if you were close enough to the action, they were a bundle of trashy drama so intense it could have put Jersey Shore or The Real Housewives of Orange County to shame. Despite multiple auditions, I was never allowed into the club, which left me frustrated and bitter, but in retrospect, probably a lot better off. So, when I get to see a show about a dysfunctional Glee Club, supposedly based in Lima, Ohio (the town where my parents grew up), and starring one of my all-time favorite actors, I have to be there.
Glee, in its best moments, shines mightily with energetic and snappy musical numbers, featuring a much wider variety of musical styles and eras than I expected. There are moments of such sublime hilarity and potent emotional truth, and the show swings back and forth between them fairly easily. Matthew Morrison, the teacher, is an extremely talented song and dance man from Broadway, and he pulls out everything he can from the scripts. The superb Chris Colfer gives such an amazing performance that it’s worth re-watching each episode and just following him in the background. That man never wastes an on-screen moment. Amber Riley and Lea Michele are FIERCE singers. They had Kristen Chenoweth as a guest star…something to which every television show should aspire. And best of all, it features one Jane Lynch, quite possibly the funniest woman to work on television since Lucille Ball.
But when the show isn’t hitting its high notes (*groan*), it’s wallowing in the mud. For about 70% the show, it begins to feel like what it really is: the result of a corporate boardroom meeting where someone said, "Hey. High School Musical was really big. Let’s see if we can’t make something like that and we’ll put it on opposite American Idol, because they’re, like, totally the same audience." And the writers, who never developed the skills of writing truly funny comedy for television because they were all out of work thanks to "reality TV", just grabbed as many stereotypes as they could muster, threw them into a blender, and turned it on high. The result is a cadre of unrealistic, one-dimensional, and COMPLETELY unbelievable characters stuck in ludicrous situations and reacting in thoroughly incomprehensible ways.
Some Examples:
- The Head Cheerleader (Bitchy Blonde) gets pregnant and convinces her boyfriend, the Star Quarterback (Dumb Jock) that he’s the father, even though they’ve never had sex. How does this happen? They were in a hottub together, and he had a premature ejaculation. And she got pregnant from that.
- The Head Cheerleader (Bitchy Blonde) actually got pregnant cheating on her boyfriend with another Football Player (Sex-addicted Bully). He’s upset because he knows he’s the baby daddy, and wants to support his child, despite the fact that he regularly sleeps with women old enough to be his mother. If Glee were to be believed, high school jocks could be having sex with a different woman every night of the week.
- The Guidance Counselor (Pretty Obsessive Compulsive) has a crush on The Teacher (Clueless Nice Guy) but instead decides to marry The Coach (Gruff Jerk with Small Shorts), who completely repulses her, just because she doesn’t want to die alone. The Coach agrees to marry her even though she won’t touch him, doesn’t want to be seen in public with him, they have nothing in common, and it’s obvious that she’s in love with The Teacher.
- The Teacher (Clueless Nice Guy) doesn’t realize that the child his Wife (Spoiled Princess Former Cheerleader) is carrying is actually just a ploy to keep their crumbling marriage together. Despite being six months pregnant, he has no idea that his wife is actually wearing padding under her shirt. And best of all, Wife is planning on adopting The Head Cheerleader’s baby and passing it off as her own, as though she had given birth to it without her husband ever knowing.
It’s like they were playing Hollywood Mad Libs.
This show perpetuates every single bad stereotype it can find, and does so with ferocity. As a result, all of the characters become cardboard cutouts, and not real characters. With very few exceptions, none of the characters ever get to step into the third dimension. It’s a shame really. It’s okay to start someone off as a stereotype, but if you don’t ever let them blossom beyond that, then what reason do you have to care about what happens to them? Take Phoebe from friends: she was a major stereotype–a dippy, ditzy earth child. It could have been so easy to let her be nothing more. But she ended up being one of the most lovable characters on TV in the 90s because she was so much more than that.
There are myriad other problems with the show as well:
- Uneven style – Sometimes the characters narrate their thoughts. Sometimes they don’t. Be consistent. If three episodes go by without any Wonder Years narration, and then one character does it for 30 seconds in the middle of an episode, it just stands out like a sore thumb.
- Unsatisfying story arcs – Coming from someone who actually likes happily ever afters, this show just mangles the stories of the characters. Each episode has fifteen different subplots going on simultaneously, and we never get to delve deeply enough to care about any of them. And at the end of every episode, there’s this giant leap from "mess" to "neat little package" as if the writers went, "Crap. We’re almost out of pages, and everything’s got to be wrapped up. I know! We’ll just throw in a musical montage!"
- Too Many Stories – With such a large ensemble cast, it’s not possible for us to care about every single person all the time. Focus!
- Characters have no redeeming values – With very few exceptions, most of the characters are grating, mean, bitchy, frosty, stupid, or ugly. Show us the GOOD!
- Flagrant abuse of auto-tune – The audio engineers for Glee appear to have attended the T-Pain school of pitch and noise management. They have auto-tuned the HELL out of these vocals. Even the few singers in the cast with amazing voices (Rachel, Will, Mercedes, Kurt, Artie) are auto-tuned so heavily you can actually hear the glitching. And if the good singer’s recordings are glitchy, imagine how heavily they auto-tuned the ones who can’t actually sing. (Emma, Puck, Quinn, Finn). If you’re going to put on a show about kids who can sing, how about you cast some kids who can sing. If you want to be true to life, how about letting some of the kids really stink? (At least in my high school, pretty much everyone in the choir was terrible.) Don’t cast people who can’t sing, and then auto-tune them so much they sound like ShowChoir by AppleTalk.™
- Stupid Men – There are few habits of television writers that drive me more bonkers than the portrayal of men as stupid, clueless oafs. Is someone REALLY going to believe that his wife has been pregnant for six months and not realize that it’s a fake? Is the high school quarterback really going to believe that he got his girlfriend pregnant by having a premature ejaculation in a hot tub? There are some stupid men out there, but there are also some really smart, observant ones. Stop making us all look like morons, please.
I wouldn’t get so up in arms about the quality of the show if I didn’t want it to be so much better than it is. I like the idea of this show. I like most of the musical numbers (despite the fact that nobody in the cast actually knows how to dance at all.) I like the potential it has. I wouldn’t have written such a butt-long blog post if I didn’t.
I’ve watched the first half of the first season religiously, even though I’m not really sure why. I enjoy it and I don’t. I’ll probably continue to watch it. But I’m not sure I can give it to many more chances. So please, Glee, please stop auto-tuning your singers to death, treating your characters like cardboard cutouts, and trying to wrap up 15 stories in a single episode.
And until then, I’ll just make myself happy by watching these:
Jan 062010
- Albion to Albion
- Albion to Battle Creek
- To Provo
- To Battle Creek
- To Provo
- To Mesa
- To Gilbert
- To Tempe
- To Show Low
- To Chandler
- To Mesa
- To Chandler
- To Battle Creek
- To Provo
- To Charlotte
- To the Cruise Ship
- To Provo
- To Provo
- To St. George
- To Sevierville
- To Battle Creek
- To Provo
- To Seattle
- To Redmond
- To Redmond
The above list consists of all the moves I’ve made since January 1996, when my family moved out of the beautiful, amazing 4,000 square foot, 1914-built, pre-Art Deco house on the 1.5 wooded acres with a river running through it in which we had lived for the previous nine years. Since then, I apparently haven’t been able to put down roots anywhere. And, to that list above, we will shortly be able to add #26: "To Redmond." That’s right folks, on February 6th, I will be moving AGAIN!
When I first moved to Redmond, I found an 1,000 sq. ft., 2 bed/2 bath apartment at a very pretty little apartment complex by the lake. I was paying $1320. Then, the next year, after my first lease was expired, they jacked up my rent by $220. I stuck with it for a while, but I felt like I was throwing away my money. (Not that paying $1300 a month for 1,000 square feet that you don’t own isn’t throwing away money too, but, you know…). So I decided that it was time to downsize. I made some Goodwill runs, rented a storage unit, and moved into a nice little 1 Bed / 1 Bath apartment for which I was only being charged $1,120. A $400 savings is nothing to shake a stick at. Of course, I didn’t save that $400. I instead used it to purchase stuff I didn’t really need. But financial self-flagellation is a topic for another blog post.
I like my apartment well enough. It’s got laminate floors, which is good for cleaning up after pets–although probably not the best on Luke’s joints, the way he scrabbles all over the place when he gets excited. It’s on ground floor, which I like, and it’s got a nice layout.
However, it’s cold, very dark (it’s hidden behind bushes on a shady drive), and very, very small. If I didn’t have a recording studio setup or ever use a computer, or want to cook, it would be a pretty usable size. It also has the problem of being on the main entry driveway to the complex, so when I’m recording I’ll often get automobile noise.
Monday I got a notice from the complex that my lease will be expiring in February. With the expiration of my lease, I will have to sign a new one, and my rent was scheduled to go from $1120 a month up to $1145 a month…nothing too terrible. But on a whim, I stopped by the complex office and asked what other units were available. (Heh. He said "unit.") It turns out that, in the building next to mine, just across a small quad, there is a very nice apartment available for $1225. It’s $80 more expensive than what I’m paying now. However, it’s a 1,050 sq ft, 2 Bed / 2 Bath (both bathrooms are En Suite) ground floor unit with an attached storage unit, fireplace, laminate floors, stainless appliances, 2 HUGE walk-in closets, and it gets a lot of light. (It’s on the Western Side of the building, and there aren’t any trees blocking the windows). Plus, with all the extra storage, I can close out my $55 a month off-site storage unit, so really, when all is said and done, I’d only be paying about $25 a month more for the giant two bedroom than I would for my dark, tiny 1 bedroom. And best of all, I know the person who will be living above me, and she isn’t a thoughtless jackass who considers it appropriate to sing traditional Hindi music at the top of her lungs at 2AM on a weeknight…not that I’m bitter or anything.
That’s a bargain in any language, as far as I’m concerned.
So, on February 6th, starting at 2PM or so, I’ll be starting the process of moving all of my stuff from my old apartment in building G to my new apartment in building I, 50 feet away. I’ll be providing free pizza for anyone who wants to help me move my stuff. I can’t imagine that it will take more than a couple of hours…I’ll have moved most of my stuff myself earlier that day. It’s just the big stuff that I’ll need help with. And if we don’t get it all, it doesn’t matter, because I don’t have to be out of my old place until the 18th!
Maybe this time I’ll stay put for a little while.
Jan 062010
Here are the next (and final) batch of "developed" photos from my Zoo Trip last weekend:
I was there at the zoo at penguin mealtime. Beside the process of penguins eating being really funny, I learned several new things. First: Penguins are picky eaters. Second: They each have unique personalities. Third: Penguins apparently recognize their names. Fourth: The guy who fed the penguins is a stud. Not only did he manage to hand feed about 30 penguins simultaneously, but he knew each and every one of their names by sight. I couldn’t tell them apart if I tried.
I just loved this elephant. This is the same one whose backside provided me that really cool shot from the last post. I de-colorized the elephant to make her stand out from the background.
It doesn’t matter what kind of cat…if there’s a sunny patch, they’ll find a way to sleep in it.
These last three photos are not great photos on their own, but I thought they were really quite funny. Anyone who knows my love for captioned animal photos will understand why it is I threw these up here as well. Any caption ideas would be greatly appreciated.
"What the hell is this on my ankle?"
Elephants don’t usually look happy, but this elephant looked like he was greeting an old friend.
"Ewwww! You want me to eat what? It’s not even cooked!"
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