One of my most irritating qualities is my refusal to zip through commercial breaks. Obviously, this admitted character flaw is somewhat understandable given my profession, but if you just zip through commercials, you run the risk of missing gems like this:
My gut instinct wants to file this under "Badvertising", but I can't. This thing is the advertising equivalent of deep fried bacon - terrible, yet awesome. From the arguably racist caller IDs ("Baby's Momma"?) to what might be the greatest line of copy ever written ("This ain't T. You been DRAMATELLED, playa!") this spot is greatness from beginning to end. Not only that, but it actually makes you consider buying the product. We all know when our calls are being screened, and here's the solution. And this commercial, with its Sister Cleo-esque production quality, illustrates this "almost illegal" solution beautifully. Granted, actually utilizing this product would make you look both desperate and psychotic, but if there was a commercial to compel me to put those fears aside, this is it. If nothing else, I want a Dramatel just to screw with my friends and then shout, "You been DRAMATELLED, playa!"
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Completely Adorable? Meet Bat-Shit Nuts.
Okay, just to prove that 1. I haven't forgotten this blog completely, and 2. I don't have a lump of coal for a heart, I bring you the following (which Blogger regrettably won't let me embed):
http://www.ustream.tv/videoplayerpopup/channel/317016
I'm not sure how this could get any more adorable. Maybe if pink butterflies were fluttering around them, or if the puppies were sleeping on a bed of marshmallows? Maybe adding a couple of baby bunnies in there would make this cuter? And maybe that would be a bad idea for the bunnies...
Regardless, that's the cutest damn thing I've seen in ages. But just so you don't think I've gone all fuzzy on you, here's a little jolt to the ol' system:
http://www.ustream.tv/videoplayerpopup/channel/317016
I'm not sure how this could get any more adorable. Maybe if pink butterflies were fluttering around them, or if the puppies were sleeping on a bed of marshmallows? Maybe adding a couple of baby bunnies in there would make this cuter? And maybe that would be a bad idea for the bunnies...
Regardless, that's the cutest damn thing I've seen in ages. But just so you don't think I've gone all fuzzy on you, here's a little jolt to the ol' system:
This is a picture of my mother. (Sorta puts things into perspective, doesn't it.) Obviously it's a picture of her at Halloween, not that this picture portrays her as any less crazy than she actually is. I asked her what the hell she was supposed to be. Her e-mailed response: "Kermit the Frog! Or with sunglasses...the UniBomber."
And here I was, stupidly thinking she was a homeless person with multiple organ failure who'd just received her next meal from a passerby trying to unload some of their kid's candy to save their own ever-expanding ass.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Obama/Huxtable '08
Since the moment McCain announced Sarah Palin as his running mate, I wanted to write a blog about it. I knew more than your average "Lower-48" American about Mrs. Palin, but I still wanted to do a little research before putting pen to paper, so to speak. While researching, I also debated writing anything at all because politics isn't the most entertaining topic, and there have been quite a few blog-worthy things going on of late: my sister's wedding planning, my travels through the remnants of Hurrican Gustav to Bentonville, AR, my subsequent introduction to the Wal-Mart corporate cheer, my discovery of the Intervention episode featuring an anorexic who inhales up to ten cans of computer duster a day, my horror at some of the items offered in the Sky Mall catalog...
But no. I have decided Mrs. Palin needs to be addressed. First, while I sincerely doubt anyone who has read this blog questions my political affiliations, it should be said that I...ahem...tend to lean toward the Democratic side of things. With that said, I'm also a female. Some might argue I'm a strong female. As such, I appreciate the drive and moxie Mrs. Palin brings to the table.
And that's pretty much where the appreciation ends.
With each passing day, I keep expecting Palin fever to end. I definitely understood the initial excitment. She was the dark horse. She's a GILF. She's a supermom. She's "folksy". But since then, people have had enough time to see where she stands on the issues, learn more about her, and frankly come to their senses.
While The Beverly Hillbillies were great entertainment, I don't think anyone would have considered Elly May Clampett a viable candidate for Vice President. And that's exactly what we have here, right down to her success resting on black gold. I can't imagine that any female supporting Hillary would vote for the Republican ticket based on the VP candidate being a fellow "Vagina American" (as Samantha Bee so brilliantly put it). However, I absolutely believe there are a lot of blue collar American men who are currently thinking with the wrong head, and that scares the shit out of me, particularly since she's been so shielded from any form of direct media scrutiny.
But luckily, McCain's team can't keep her in a bubble and away from the media forever, though after the grilling she received last week from Charlie Gibson, I have to imagine they wish they could. The woman is so clueless, so chock-full of soundbites, so in over her head, the interview would have been painful to watch had it not filled me with glee to watch the Palin mysitque come crashing down. It also confirmed my long-standing desire to have Charlie Gibson adopt me.
GIBSON: "Did you ever travel outside the country prior to your trip to Kuwait and Germany last year?"
PALIN: "Canada, Mexico, and then, yes, that trip, that was the trip of a lifetime to visit our troops in Kuwait and stop and visit our injured soldiers in Germany. That was the trip of a lifetime and it changed my life."
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sarah Palin, head of the Department of Redundancy Department. Oh, and Sarah - everyone knows that Canada and Mexico don't count.
GIBSON: What insight into Russian actions, particularly in the last couple of weeks, does the proximity of the state give you?
PALIN: They're our next door neighbors and you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska, from an island in Alaska.
Wheeeeeeeee!!!
GIBSON: What insight does that give you into what they're doing in Georgia?
(Which, for the record, you can't see from any island in Alaska.)
PALIN: Well, I'm giving you that perspective of how small our world is and how important it is that we work with our allies to keep good relation with all of these countries, especially Russia.
So that's why you're supporting Georgia? To keep good relations with all countries, especially Russia? Well, then I hate to tell you but the Russians probably won't appreciate your Georgian support on a matter that arguably doesn't affect our country in any way. Just sayin'.
This next exchange would have really cracked me up, were I not so terrified someone [this close] to the presidency is this retarded.
GIBSON: Do you agree with the Bush doctrine?
PALIN: In what respect, Charlie?
GIBSON: The Bush -- well, what do you -- what do you interpret it to be?
PALIN: His world view.
GIBSON: No, the Bush doctrine, enunciated September 2002, before the Iraq war.
You could tell Charlie wanted to finish that last statement up with a giant sigh and, "DUMBASS," but as a professional journalist, he kept his reserve and his complete and total annoyance with her was only marginally, and by that I mean completely, obvious.
PALIN: I believe that what President Bush has attempted to do is rid this world of Islamic extremism, terrorists who are hell bent on destroying our nation. There have been blunders along the way, though. There have been mistakes made. And with new leadership, and that's the beauty of American elections, of course, and democracy, is with new leadership comes opportunity to do things better.
Wheeeeeeee!!!
GIBSON: The Bush doctrine, as I understand it, is that we have the right of anticipatory self-defense, that we have the right to a preemptive strike against any other country that we think is going to attack us. Do you agree with that?
PALIN: I agree that a president's job, when they swear in their oath to uphold our Constitution, their top priority is to defend the United States of America.
I know that John McCain will do that and I, as his vice president, families we are blessed with that vote of the American people and are elected to serve and are sworn in on January 20, that will be our top priority is to defend the American people.
GIBSON: Do we have a right to anticipatory self-defense? Do we have a right to make a preemptive strike again another country if we feel that country might strike us?
PALIN: Charlie, if there is legitimate and enough intelligence that tells us that a strike is imminent against American people, we have every right to defend our country. In fact, the president has the obligation, the duty to defend.
This whole exchange went on for quite awhile and absolutely killed me. It reminded me of that episode of The Cosby Show where Vanessa tells her parents she's at a slumber party and she and her friends drive to Baltimore to see "The Wretched" instead. When they eventually get busted for lying, Cliff tries to stay calm even though he's clearly pissed and annoyed, while Vanessa stammers and tries to explain herself. I kept wishing Clair Huxtable would burst into the interview, lose her shit and say all the things you know Charlie was thinking.
"Here you think you because you've been cramming for a week that you know ALLLLLL about international politics and the Bush Doctrine, when your entire career, you've just been havin' BIG FUN in Alaska. Weren't you, Sarah? Having BIG FUN in Alaska. Ridin' snowmobiles, eatin' moose burgers, shootin' guns and killin' caribou. You don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about, do you?"
"But, Clair," Sarah would stammer.
"SHUT UP! Don't you DARE open your mouth when I'm asking you a question! RUDY, GO TO BED!"
But no. I have decided Mrs. Palin needs to be addressed. First, while I sincerely doubt anyone who has read this blog questions my political affiliations, it should be said that I...ahem...tend to lean toward the Democratic side of things. With that said, I'm also a female. Some might argue I'm a strong female. As such, I appreciate the drive and moxie Mrs. Palin brings to the table.
And that's pretty much where the appreciation ends.
With each passing day, I keep expecting Palin fever to end. I definitely understood the initial excitment. She was the dark horse. She's a GILF. She's a supermom. She's "folksy". But since then, people have had enough time to see where she stands on the issues, learn more about her, and frankly come to their senses.
While The Beverly Hillbillies were great entertainment, I don't think anyone would have considered Elly May Clampett a viable candidate for Vice President. And that's exactly what we have here, right down to her success resting on black gold. I can't imagine that any female supporting Hillary would vote for the Republican ticket based on the VP candidate being a fellow "Vagina American" (as Samantha Bee so brilliantly put it). However, I absolutely believe there are a lot of blue collar American men who are currently thinking with the wrong head, and that scares the shit out of me, particularly since she's been so shielded from any form of direct media scrutiny.
But luckily, McCain's team can't keep her in a bubble and away from the media forever, though after the grilling she received last week from Charlie Gibson, I have to imagine they wish they could. The woman is so clueless, so chock-full of soundbites, so in over her head, the interview would have been painful to watch had it not filled me with glee to watch the Palin mysitque come crashing down. It also confirmed my long-standing desire to have Charlie Gibson adopt me.
GIBSON: "Did you ever travel outside the country prior to your trip to Kuwait and Germany last year?"
PALIN: "Canada, Mexico, and then, yes, that trip, that was the trip of a lifetime to visit our troops in Kuwait and stop and visit our injured soldiers in Germany. That was the trip of a lifetime and it changed my life."
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Sarah Palin, head of the Department of Redundancy Department. Oh, and Sarah - everyone knows that Canada and Mexico don't count.
GIBSON: What insight into Russian actions, particularly in the last couple of weeks, does the proximity of the state give you?
PALIN: They're our next door neighbors and you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska, from an island in Alaska.
Wheeeeeeeee!!!
GIBSON: What insight does that give you into what they're doing in Georgia?
(Which, for the record, you can't see from any island in Alaska.)
PALIN: Well, I'm giving you that perspective of how small our world is and how important it is that we work with our allies to keep good relation with all of these countries, especially Russia.
So that's why you're supporting Georgia? To keep good relations with all countries, especially Russia? Well, then I hate to tell you but the Russians probably won't appreciate your Georgian support on a matter that arguably doesn't affect our country in any way. Just sayin'.
This next exchange would have really cracked me up, were I not so terrified someone [this close] to the presidency is this retarded.
GIBSON: Do you agree with the Bush doctrine?
PALIN: In what respect, Charlie?
GIBSON: The Bush -- well, what do you -- what do you interpret it to be?
PALIN: His world view.
GIBSON: No, the Bush doctrine, enunciated September 2002, before the Iraq war.
You could tell Charlie wanted to finish that last statement up with a giant sigh and, "DUMBASS," but as a professional journalist, he kept his reserve and his complete and total annoyance with her was only marginally, and by that I mean completely, obvious.
PALIN: I believe that what President Bush has attempted to do is rid this world of Islamic extremism, terrorists who are hell bent on destroying our nation. There have been blunders along the way, though. There have been mistakes made. And with new leadership, and that's the beauty of American elections, of course, and democracy, is with new leadership comes opportunity to do things better.
Wheeeeeeee!!!
GIBSON: The Bush doctrine, as I understand it, is that we have the right of anticipatory self-defense, that we have the right to a preemptive strike against any other country that we think is going to attack us. Do you agree with that?
PALIN: I agree that a president's job, when they swear in their oath to uphold our Constitution, their top priority is to defend the United States of America.
I know that John McCain will do that and I, as his vice president, families we are blessed with that vote of the American people and are elected to serve and are sworn in on January 20, that will be our top priority is to defend the American people.
GIBSON: Do we have a right to anticipatory self-defense? Do we have a right to make a preemptive strike again another country if we feel that country might strike us?
PALIN: Charlie, if there is legitimate and enough intelligence that tells us that a strike is imminent against American people, we have every right to defend our country. In fact, the president has the obligation, the duty to defend.
This whole exchange went on for quite awhile and absolutely killed me. It reminded me of that episode of The Cosby Show where Vanessa tells her parents she's at a slumber party and she and her friends drive to Baltimore to see "The Wretched" instead. When they eventually get busted for lying, Cliff tries to stay calm even though he's clearly pissed and annoyed, while Vanessa stammers and tries to explain herself. I kept wishing Clair Huxtable would burst into the interview, lose her shit and say all the things you know Charlie was thinking.
"Here you think you because you've been cramming for a week that you know ALLLLLL about international politics and the Bush Doctrine, when your entire career, you've just been havin' BIG FUN in Alaska. Weren't you, Sarah? Having BIG FUN in Alaska. Ridin' snowmobiles, eatin' moose burgers, shootin' guns and killin' caribou. You don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about, do you?"
"But, Clair," Sarah would stammer.
"SHUT UP! Don't you DARE open your mouth when I'm asking you a question! RUDY, GO TO BED!"
Monday, September 1, 2008
Maybe she should wear pearls with her tape?
A few days ago, I spent the night at my aunt's house and she and I ended up talking late into the night. My uncle had fallen asleep in his chair, and as we sat there drinking wine and chatting, I suddenly interrupted her.
"I'm sorry, but how do you sleep with that???" I asked, nodding to my uncle whose snoring was causing the windows to vibrate.
And with her response, I got one of those weird glimpses into married life that, as a single person, leaves you completely befuddled.
"Oh, I tape his lips shut," she explained, and took a sip of wine.
...
"Wait, you do what?" I asked, with a horrified look on my face.
"Well," she explained as though this was all perfectly normal, "you know, he sleeps with a CPAP machine, but even with that mask on, he's just soooooo LOUD." She began to imitate my uncle by putting her lips together, then blowing air through her mouth which created this horrible sputtering noise. "So after a couple of nights of that, I decided if I taped his lips shut, he wouldn't be able to make that awful sound."
"Clearly, that was the next step," I deadpanned.
Unfazed, she continued. "Bless his heart, when we first got married, he made this styrofoam box that only his engineering mind could have, because he wanted a sound-proof...well, a sound-proof box, I guess...so he wouldn't disturb me. It was so cute," she remembered with obvious fondness, "Here he'd taken one of those gas station coolers and made this box, and he called me from the bedroom one day, and I walked in and he was lying in the bed with all this styrofoam around his head. It really was so precious. Of course it was also so funny, I had to take a picture of it. Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to that picture..." she trailed off.
While I briefly considered my uncle lying in bed with his head shoved in a styrofoam cooler, I was still confused. "Sorry, can we go back to the fact you tape his lips shut at night?" I asked, clearly perplexed.
"You know, the lady at the CPAP store the other day also thought that was strange, though I assured her I fold the ends under so he can rip it off more easily. I used to not do that and he had a terrible time getting it off in the morning..."
"Hang on, how did all of this even come up with the lady at the CPAP store?" I inquired.
"Well, I'd looked at his machine and saw it had this filter on it, and thought to myself, 'I bet that needs to be changed.' And sure enough, when I pulled it out, it disintegrated..."
Usually not a good sign.
"...So I went to the CPAP store, and told her I needed a new filter, that this one had disintegrated. Then she asked me how long it had been since we'd changed it, and I told her we'd never changed it. She gave me this puzzled look, and then asked how long we'd had the machine. When I told her we'd had it twenty years..."
Oh god.
"...then she seemed really troubled, because I guess you're supposed to change it every three months."
Oh GOD.
"So after she'd gotten my new filter for me, we were discussing what a great machine it is, and I told her that while I do think it's a good machine, it still doesn't keep him from snoring and that's why I have to tape his lips together. When I told her this, she looked at me like I was a murderer or something and said, 'M'am, if the electricity ever went out, he would die!' I mean, she really seemed upset about this! And I just laughed and said, 'Well, I guess we're lucky that hasn't happened!'"
My poor uncle.
A few days later, I was at dinner with them, when my uncle held up his wristwatch. "Dear, do you like my repair job?" Sure enough, around the clasp of his wristwatch was suspicious-looking tape.
"That's the stuff, isn't it," I asked.
"Oh, ha, yes! It is!" my aunt replied, and started laughing. I told my uncle I'd heard about his sleeping conditions and was concerned.
"You know, I'm not the only one who snores," he said with a groan, "But your aunt refuses to acknowledge that she could possibly make any noise at all while she's sleeping, but I assure you she does. And I've suggested perhaps she try sleeping with her lips taped shut, or at the very least with a CPAP mask on, but she won't do it."
With this, she gave him a knowing look, patted his arm and said, "Well, dear, that's just not very ladylike," and they went back to eating their meals.
"I'm sorry, but how do you sleep with that???" I asked, nodding to my uncle whose snoring was causing the windows to vibrate.
And with her response, I got one of those weird glimpses into married life that, as a single person, leaves you completely befuddled.
"Oh, I tape his lips shut," she explained, and took a sip of wine.
...
"Wait, you do what?" I asked, with a horrified look on my face.
"Well," she explained as though this was all perfectly normal, "you know, he sleeps with a CPAP machine, but even with that mask on, he's just soooooo LOUD." She began to imitate my uncle by putting her lips together, then blowing air through her mouth which created this horrible sputtering noise. "So after a couple of nights of that, I decided if I taped his lips shut, he wouldn't be able to make that awful sound."
"Clearly, that was the next step," I deadpanned.
Unfazed, she continued. "Bless his heart, when we first got married, he made this styrofoam box that only his engineering mind could have, because he wanted a sound-proof...well, a sound-proof box, I guess...so he wouldn't disturb me. It was so cute," she remembered with obvious fondness, "Here he'd taken one of those gas station coolers and made this box, and he called me from the bedroom one day, and I walked in and he was lying in the bed with all this styrofoam around his head. It really was so precious. Of course it was also so funny, I had to take a picture of it. Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to that picture..." she trailed off.
While I briefly considered my uncle lying in bed with his head shoved in a styrofoam cooler, I was still confused. "Sorry, can we go back to the fact you tape his lips shut at night?" I asked, clearly perplexed.
"You know, the lady at the CPAP store the other day also thought that was strange, though I assured her I fold the ends under so he can rip it off more easily. I used to not do that and he had a terrible time getting it off in the morning..."
"Hang on, how did all of this even come up with the lady at the CPAP store?" I inquired.
"Well, I'd looked at his machine and saw it had this filter on it, and thought to myself, 'I bet that needs to be changed.' And sure enough, when I pulled it out, it disintegrated..."
Usually not a good sign.
"...So I went to the CPAP store, and told her I needed a new filter, that this one had disintegrated. Then she asked me how long it had been since we'd changed it, and I told her we'd never changed it. She gave me this puzzled look, and then asked how long we'd had the machine. When I told her we'd had it twenty years..."
Oh god.
"...then she seemed really troubled, because I guess you're supposed to change it every three months."
Oh GOD.
"So after she'd gotten my new filter for me, we were discussing what a great machine it is, and I told her that while I do think it's a good machine, it still doesn't keep him from snoring and that's why I have to tape his lips together. When I told her this, she looked at me like I was a murderer or something and said, 'M'am, if the electricity ever went out, he would die!' I mean, she really seemed upset about this! And I just laughed and said, 'Well, I guess we're lucky that hasn't happened!'"
My poor uncle.
A few days later, I was at dinner with them, when my uncle held up his wristwatch. "Dear, do you like my repair job?" Sure enough, around the clasp of his wristwatch was suspicious-looking tape.
"That's the stuff, isn't it," I asked.
"Oh, ha, yes! It is!" my aunt replied, and started laughing. I told my uncle I'd heard about his sleeping conditions and was concerned.
"You know, I'm not the only one who snores," he said with a groan, "But your aunt refuses to acknowledge that she could possibly make any noise at all while she's sleeping, but I assure you she does. And I've suggested perhaps she try sleeping with her lips taped shut, or at the very least with a CPAP mask on, but she won't do it."
With this, she gave him a knowing look, patted his arm and said, "Well, dear, that's just not very ladylike," and they went back to eating their meals.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
The ties we find.
I've been hanging out a lot this week with a few of my aunts - two aunts and one great aunt - and have had a blast. Of course when you hang out with family, you end up talking about family and in our case, family history. Which made me curious to know more, so I joined a website called ancestry.com to do some research.
A couple of years ago, an episode of THS had me convinced I was related to Anna Nicole Smith. They had interviewed her hillbilly cousins and they all had the same last name some of my relatives in that area of Texas. So I figured if nothing else, doing a little research could help me solve the Anna Nicole mystery, as I haven't slept soundly since my initial realization.
I will also confess another reason for my ancestral interest is joining the Daughters of the American Revolution. We have a cousin that's very involved with DAR and after doing some research, I want a piece of the action. I found a couple of local chapters with some wonderful programs such as "Historical Shoes" and "White House China: A Retrospective". I'm only kicking myself that I didn't attempt to join sooner.
"Now these shoes belonged to Millicent Butts, of the Baldwin County Butts. And I think I speak for the room when I say, 'Thank the good Lord for Manolo Blahnik!'"
Surprisingly, I've found this whole ancestry thing mildly addictive. It's fascinating what, rather who, you'll find. Obviously, the first order of business was establishing my "patriot", so that when I attend the meeting on "How to Mark a Patriot's Grave", I'll know who the hell's grave I'm supposed to be marking. And sure enough, within a couple of days I'd established that I'll be riding into the DAR on the coattails of Private Evan Shelby.
But I didn't stop at the 1700s with my searching. On my paternal side, I was able to trace my family back to the 900s. We were Italian then, but sadly that was soon buried under 1000 years-worth of English and Scottish heritage, explaining why I can't get a tan to save myself.
Other interesting finds have been famous relatives I've come across. I'm related to an alarming amount of famous writers/publishers (William Randolph Hearst, Gore Vidal, Geoffery Chaucer, Mark Twain, Elizabeth Browning, and Robert Louis Stevenson, to name a few) which have given me comfort that genetically-speaking, there's no way this blog can suck. Other than writers, I learned most of my famous relatives fall into the categories of actors (Jimmy Stewart, Mae West), political figures (Zachary Taylor, Woodrow Wilson, Lady Bird Johnson, BOTH Bushes) and outlaws/robbers (Pretty Boy Floyd, Frank James, Butch Cassidy, at lease one of the Bushes).
But today I found something even more horrifying than discovering I was related to President Bush (my seventh cousin, twice removed).
At the time, I was working on the heritage of my sixth great grandmother, Susanna Clement, when suddenly I saw names that looked familiar: Simon Clement and Susannah Lockett. Why did they look familiar? I backed out for a bigger picture view and proceeded to throw up in my mouth.
A couple of years ago, an episode of THS had me convinced I was related to Anna Nicole Smith. They had interviewed her hillbilly cousins and they all had the same last name some of my relatives in that area of Texas. So I figured if nothing else, doing a little research could help me solve the Anna Nicole mystery, as I haven't slept soundly since my initial realization.
I will also confess another reason for my ancestral interest is joining the Daughters of the American Revolution. We have a cousin that's very involved with DAR and after doing some research, I want a piece of the action. I found a couple of local chapters with some wonderful programs such as "Historical Shoes" and "White House China: A Retrospective". I'm only kicking myself that I didn't attempt to join sooner.
"Now these shoes belonged to Millicent Butts, of the Baldwin County Butts. And I think I speak for the room when I say, 'Thank the good Lord for Manolo Blahnik!'"
Surprisingly, I've found this whole ancestry thing mildly addictive. It's fascinating what, rather who, you'll find. Obviously, the first order of business was establishing my "patriot", so that when I attend the meeting on "How to Mark a Patriot's Grave", I'll know who the hell's grave I'm supposed to be marking. And sure enough, within a couple of days I'd established that I'll be riding into the DAR on the coattails of Private Evan Shelby.
But I didn't stop at the 1700s with my searching. On my paternal side, I was able to trace my family back to the 900s. We were Italian then, but sadly that was soon buried under 1000 years-worth of English and Scottish heritage, explaining why I can't get a tan to save myself.
Other interesting finds have been famous relatives I've come across. I'm related to an alarming amount of famous writers/publishers (William Randolph Hearst, Gore Vidal, Geoffery Chaucer, Mark Twain, Elizabeth Browning, and Robert Louis Stevenson, to name a few) which have given me comfort that genetically-speaking, there's no way this blog can suck. Other than writers, I learned most of my famous relatives fall into the categories of actors (Jimmy Stewart, Mae West), political figures (Zachary Taylor, Woodrow Wilson, Lady Bird Johnson, BOTH Bushes) and outlaws/robbers (Pretty Boy Floyd, Frank James, Butch Cassidy, at lease one of the Bushes).
But today I found something even more horrifying than discovering I was related to President Bush (my seventh cousin, twice removed).
At the time, I was working on the heritage of my sixth great grandmother, Susanna Clement, when suddenly I saw names that looked familiar: Simon Clement and Susannah Lockett. Why did they look familiar? I backed out for a bigger picture view and proceeded to throw up in my mouth.
They sounded familiar, because they were ALREADY ON MY TREE!!! My sixth great-grandmother married her goddamn COUSIN!!! And a first cousin, at that! I'm a product of incest, and not the ancient-European-royalty-keep-the-bloodlines-pure kind of incest, but the backwoods, Appalachian, cousins-screwin'-in-the-woods kind. Only in my case, they married each other.
I didn't even know what to do with this info. Part of me wanted to run to the bathroom like Fergus in The Crying Game, while the other wanted to run to the mirror to relish the fact I don't have three eyes.
So before you judge or yell at me for what my cousin has done to the economy, please keep in mind that unlike you, I'm just lucky to have opposable thumbs.
Monday, August 18, 2008
The glamorous world of advertising.
When I was in high school, I absolutely loved Melrose Place. Amanda and Courtney worked at D&D Advertising, and it was, like, the coolest thing ever. The pages of a magazine brought to life.
Now that I'm actually in advertising, I'm constantly irritated by the glamour conveyed on television and movies when it comes to representing my profession. I love advertising and can't imagine doing anything else, but it's still nothing close to what's shown on TV. And to illustrate my point I bring you the following...
"My Monday: A Story in 25 Acts"
Wake up at 3:30 after about 3 and a half hours of sleep.
Get to airport by 5am.
Fly to Dallas at 6:30am.
Eat a nasty breakfast at Chili's Too.
Board a plane at 8:30am to fly to Kansas City for a 10:30 meeting.
Take a seat on the last row by the shitter, behind a screaming child.
Get nauseated by the smell of the toilet.
Check out the cute guy across the aisle, and wonder if I could get past the fact he's missing a hand.
Decide I could live with the stub and proceed to flirt.
Bitch about screaming toddler with flight attendant in line to small/smelly lavatory.
Wonder what's going on with the plane.
Get excited the one-hand man is flirting back. (Yes, he was just. that. cute.)
Deplane an hour later due to "computer issues".
Realize we'll be missing the meeting if we try to fly now.
Watch my airplane crush board the next flight without me. *sniff*
Call-in to meeting.
Have an hour-and-a-half long conference call on consumer segmentation at Gate 8, while a creepy man stares at me.
Eat a nasty lunch at same Chili's Too.
Board flight home in a thunderstorm.
Experience heavy turbulence the entire way home.
Convince myself I'm about to die in a plane crash.
Embarrass myself by babbling nonsense to the co-worker seated next to me in a desperate attempt to distract myself from our impending demise.
Land safely and am back in the office at 3pm.
Eat two bags of popcorn for "dinner".
Finish working at 8pm.
-THE END-
Amanda never would have had a day this un-sexy at D&D. That said, she also never would've received an e-mail this awesome from her travel agent.
To: Liz
From: Travel*
Subject: since you had a bad day, hopefully this will make you smile
Here's a picture of a rabbit with a pancake on its head...enjoy.
Now that I'm actually in advertising, I'm constantly irritated by the glamour conveyed on television and movies when it comes to representing my profession. I love advertising and can't imagine doing anything else, but it's still nothing close to what's shown on TV. And to illustrate my point I bring you the following...
"My Monday: A Story in 25 Acts"
Wake up at 3:30 after about 3 and a half hours of sleep.
Get to airport by 5am.
Fly to Dallas at 6:30am.
Eat a nasty breakfast at Chili's Too.
Board a plane at 8:30am to fly to Kansas City for a 10:30 meeting.
Take a seat on the last row by the shitter, behind a screaming child.
Get nauseated by the smell of the toilet.
Check out the cute guy across the aisle, and wonder if I could get past the fact he's missing a hand.
Decide I could live with the stub and proceed to flirt.
Bitch about screaming toddler with flight attendant in line to small/smelly lavatory.
Wonder what's going on with the plane.
Get excited the one-hand man is flirting back. (Yes, he was just. that. cute.)
Deplane an hour later due to "computer issues".
Realize we'll be missing the meeting if we try to fly now.
Watch my airplane crush board the next flight without me. *sniff*
Call-in to meeting.
Have an hour-and-a-half long conference call on consumer segmentation at Gate 8, while a creepy man stares at me.
Eat a nasty lunch at same Chili's Too.
Board flight home in a thunderstorm.
Experience heavy turbulence the entire way home.
Convince myself I'm about to die in a plane crash.
Embarrass myself by babbling nonsense to the co-worker seated next to me in a desperate attempt to distract myself from our impending demise.
Land safely and am back in the office at 3pm.
Eat two bags of popcorn for "dinner".
Finish working at 8pm.
-THE END-
Amanda never would have had a day this un-sexy at D&D. That said, she also never would've received an e-mail this awesome from her travel agent.
To: Liz
From: Travel*
Subject: since you had a bad day, hopefully this will make you smile
Here's a picture of a rabbit with a pancake on its head...enjoy.
*Not his real name.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Crack attack.
Speaking of unflattering pictures, here's one I snapped the other night at dinner with my mother.
This ass belongs to a 60-ish woman who came into our restaurant wearing a tunic over black tights. About thirty minutes into the accidental peep show, our waiter (who had been sending his other server friends through our area to enjoy the view) came over to our table.
"How."
"Man, I don't know what you do here," I replied.
"I mean, do I say, 'Excuse me m'am, but I think your dress is maybe riding up a little in the back.'??? How do I address this tactfully?"
"Sorry, you're asking the wrong person. I just took a picture of it."
"Well, it is funny," he sighed.
At this point, my mom chimed in. "I was awlready enjoyin' the sunset. Now I get to enjoy a full moon, too!"
Yes, mother. There's nothing like staring at the smashed ass of a senior while eating ravioli...
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