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Sitting at home on a Friday night, I managed to stumble across something wonderful on the television. I’m sure everyone has heard of the Lingerie Bowl–but did you know there’s actually Lingerie Football League? It’s was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in months…and not for the reasons you’d think.
The LFL is horrible, hideous, and the most pathetic business venture I’ve seen since my parents decided to open up their own restaurant. The football was beyond bad. The announcers took their job too seriously. And the uniforms looked like a pathetic attempt at creating risqué Halloween costumes. Maybe it’s the part of me that loves watching a train wreck, but I couldn’t look away. I found myself laughing, crying, and wishing I had a bunch of buddies over so I could watch the spectacle with other train wreck fans.
Where do I begin? Wow. Speechless–I feel speechless. I don’t know what to mock first!
I guess we’ll start with the football. As gridiron junkie, I can appreciate good football like a Frenchman saviors a fine cheese. What these girls were playing couldn’t be called football–ten-year olds play better football than what I saw (at least 10-year olds try . . . . .
Real quick. I’m going with Eagles vs. Patriots in the Super Bowl. I decided it last week before the weekend games but never got around to writing it. My Eagle prediction looks shaky given McNabb’s injury, but I made this before the season started and gotta stick with it (plan B: the Giants). As usual, I never pick the Super Bowl winner because anything can happen in a single game.
I am obsessed with Tetris.* There–I said it. I played the game religiously as a kid on my Game Boy. I sacrificed many dates and opportunities to interact with real human beings because of Tetris. I would rock out to the Tetris theme in my bedroom. I even wanted to name my firstborn child Tetris. Tetris was the video game equivalent of crack. I can’t even begin to guess how many months of my life I wasted playing Tetris (we’re way beyond hours and days). There were other video games, but nothing could compete with the rush I got from a game of Tetris. It was a staple–I took my Game Boy with me everywhere I went because the great thing about Tetris was its closure: a game of . . . . .
I took a special education class in the spring and I reluctantly hafta admit that I learned something from it. I am in no way more adept in confronting or talking to handicap people–but I did learn to realize not everyone is created equally. Learning disabilities don’t mean you’re a vegetable. There are some people out there–sharp as a tack–that simply can’t learn something. I know. It seems obvious. But this is a concept that I missed somewhere in life.
I know a lot of people say they can’t do math. I never understood it because math is so simple. Even though I majored in English, mathematics is the easiest concept for me to grasp because everything is so logical. I can visualize problems and numbers and figure out the answer because I am very comfortable with step-by-step processes.
Until recently, I believed there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do in school. Math is easy. Writing is simply BS-ing. And why in the world would anyone hate to read? I never thought I couldn’t do anything because academically there was little I couldn’t do (except for spelling–but I’ll admit most of that deficiency is due to laziness on my part). The . . . . .
When I was little, I thought Grownups knew everything. Whether it be a math problem, spelling a word, or trying to identify a rash, I felt like a Grownup would know the answer. Grownups were always so together–so calm and knowledgeable. That’s what made Grownups better than kids–they knew everything about everything. Maybe it’s because both of my parents were smart so I grew up in a home where knowledge was prevalent. Grownups weren’t just older kids–they were perfect people. They went to school, got smart, and became Grownups.
Six-year olds are naïve I was no different. I thought there was nothing a Grownup didn’t know or couldn’t do. My dad was always repairing the house, growing plants, and watching sports–it felt like he knew everything. My mom use to cook, fix all my booboos, and could answer any question I ever gave her. They were Grownups and in complete control of their lives.
My folks had me in their mid-20s–I’m getting close to an age when I can remember my parents being as old as I am now. I have memories dating back to when I was three-years old. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m older . . . . .
I am a big fan of crappy teen dramas. It started way back with the original “90210” and continues today with the new “90210.” When I was in the midst of my “Dawson’s Creek” phase, I wondered how these television producers could keep coming up with new teen drama plotlines. Every teenager in America goes through the same struggles. I don’t wanna lessen their trauma, but how different is the “Dawson” version of teen drinking compared to “One Tree Hill?” It’s hard to tell a story that’s already been told–at least hard to do and make it seem fresh and interesting.
Back in the original “90210” I remember losing one’s virginity was a major plotline. This theme eventually gets explored in every teen drama and to this 31-year old adult, it’s a little played out. I know I’m not the target audience of these shows, but I’m sure I’m not the only 30-something watching (and if I am, I really need to rethink my life). The shock value of teen sex is completely gone. I remember how controversial a 1991 episode of “Roseanne” was because 17-year old Becky wanted to go on birth control. Unfortunately, that sorta “shock” isn’t shocking . . . . .
I am perhaps the least celebrity-obsessed person in this country. I don’t visit TMZ or watch “Entertainment Tonight.” I think “US Weekly” is the worst magazine ever created. I don’t know who Jennifer Anniston is dating and couldn’t care less if Brangelina’s kids got eaten by a mountain lion.
I’m not saying this because I work at in television and come across third-rate celebrities on a weekly basis–it’s because I think being famous doesn’t make you any more interesting than everyone else. George Clooney is a movie star: his talent is to speak words written for him by someone else. The only difference between me and him is gorgeous looks and a bazillion dollars (it’s like we’re separated at birth). I don’t need to know his view on politics, whom he’s dating, or what he looks like without makeup. Celebrities are just people and no more fascinating than my next door neighbor whose name I don’t know. I don’t care what’s going on in my neighbor’s life–same goes true for George Clooney.
That’s why I’ll never be one to go gaga when seeing a celebrity. I really don’t care what they did to become famous. To me, a celebrity is . . . . .
Not being gay myself, I wouldn’t dare assume to know what gay people think. But I’m a compassionate individual and an observer of the world around me. In my opinion, there’s two kinds of gay people: those who were born that way and those who choose to be gay.
What’s that you say? I’m coping out on the world’s most controversial topic since Tastes Great vs. Less Filling? I don’t think of it as a copout…more like my way of saying everybody is right.
There are those who will tell you homosexuality is in your DNA–some people are born gay and some are not. I believe there are a lot of things out of an individual’s control. I wish I was taller. And no matter how much milk I drink or much I practice, I’ll never get taller. I think it’s the same way for a lot of gay folks. I don’t choose to be short; they don’t choose to be gay. Life can’t be easy as a homosexual. There’s the ridicule from parents and friends. They ugly stereotypes portrayed in Hollywood. The ruthless beatings from small-minded brutes. Why would anyone choose that lifestyle? All your inert desires contradict everything . . . . .
The elections might be finished–but I’m not. I’ve been complaining a lot about politics lately because politics is “in” nowadays. So before I return to the usual complaints and irritations, I have to get something else off my chest: people are stupid. Beyond stupid. To call people morons would be an insult to morons everywhere. No one has a dime of common sense. I simply cannot believe the stupidity in the world. People have no sense of cause and effect. Action and reaction. I don’t know how I can live in a world with people that are just so damn stupid. They make it worse for people like me–the nonstupids.
On Tuesday, California voters passed many wide-ranging measures–all of which have significant dollar amounts attached to them. “We” approved of $2 billion to go to children’s hospitals. “We” approved of $10 billon for a high speed train to connect LA and SF. I reluctantly used the word “we” because unfortunately, I get lumped together with these pinheads–but trust me, these are not measures I would have approved.
Meanwhile, Thursday–not even 48 hours after the polls closed–the governor announced that California is in serious debt and proposed a $4 billion tax . . . . .
When I came of age and cast my first ballot, I considered myself a Republican. Even though I despised the morality police tactics of the GOP, I believed in the Republican perspective with money and government. I always thought that you should work for what you get and get what you work for. Welfare, food stamps, and charity were all things I despised because I believed they catered towards the lazy and invited corruption. But above all, Democrats really pissed me off.
That’s why this pains me.
Now that I’m a full-fledged member of the workforce, I realize politics and government isn’t as simple as black and white (despite the fact our politicians only seem to know how to vote for partisan issues). I went to college. I work 40 hours a week. I feel like I’m doing my time…yet I feel like I can’t get ahead in this world. I doubt I’ll ever earn/save enough to buy a house. Having children will be a major fiscal strain. I’m trying to do all the right things I was taught to do as a kid. I got an education and a white collared job. And yet I’m making practically the same . . . . .
A coworker was telling me about his experience meeting Fergie (who–thanks to The Girlfriend–I recently learned is a musician and not an English aristocrat). He talked about her bodyguards, fancy cars, and massive, obviously expensive jewelry. “That girl is rolling in cash,” he said.
I’m tired of making other people rich. Actors, singers, sports stars, CEOs–all of them are getting rich on our dime. Every movie we see and every CD we buy makes the rich richer. We don’t think about it when we go shopping–we just buy stuff because as Americans we love buying stuff. But the entertainers we make rich are already loaded. They have more money than they could every possibly spend (well, except MC Hammer). Imagine what it’s like being Fergie. She doesn’t hafta worry about $4-a-gallon gas. She doesn’t complain about rising food costs or worry about whether or not her boss will give her a raise. That girl is rolling in cash.
Must be nice.
Meanwhile the rest of us–people who live in the real world–struggle to make ends meet. I don’t wanna get all communist here, but it’s a load of garbage. At some point is there ever enough? No one needs that . . . . .
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