Lori's Stories

The Vacation Edition

2008-09-15T22:48:00Z

     I just got back from vacation, which of course allowed me plenty of time to think about the most trivial of things. I had anticipated a whole lot of blog entries upon my return, but then realized pretty much none of what I thought of could be fleshed out to become something longer than a couple of sentences, so I'll group them. OK, I'll group the few things that I can actually still remember.
     First off, I noticed something very interesting during my first day on the beach. It seems to be my experience that the amount of clothing you wear on the beach seems to increase with each year of age. I wanted to take pictures to illustrate my point, but I'm not exactly comfortable with taking pictures of strangers, especially for the purposes of posting them online, especially my first subject, which was a naked toddler. When the day started, he was running around in his diaper, loving life. The next thing I knew, I turned my head, and there he was in all his shiny glory. Immediately I looked away, feeling as if looking at someone else's naked little boy instantly put me in danger of being arrested. I tried to avoid looking at him as much as possible because, legal liabilities or not, I had no desire to see a little boy's tiny package. But, there he was, running all over the beach and enjoying his freedom. I was pretty successful in averting my gaze until they decided to leave. They walked right in front of us, and he threw up his hand and exclaimed, "HI!" "Hey, buddy," my husband calmly replied. Apparently, I get flustered by naked children, because I was still stammering after they had passed. We went back a couple of days later and, lo and behold, who should be there but Baby Godiva. Luckily, they didn't stick around long that day, but he was the perfect first example of my point. Everything between, say, 6 and 18 gets a little cloudy. It's just a sea of tiny swimsuits. Once the twenties come into view, you start to see signs of the mellowing - more guys in t-shirts and girls with shorts over their suits until they're ready to get in the water. Add a few more years, and you get the one-piece suit, followed soon by the skirted one-piece suit. Once a woman has passed that stage, you'll probably never see her in a suit again. That's when we move into the shorts and t-shirt phase, sometimes complete with hats.

In the final stage of my beach-wear evolution, I saw an older couple fully dressed and wrapped in a comforter on the sand. It was over 80 degrees out there. Of course, there are always exceptions. I saw a woman who was easily in her 50's walking around in a bikini. But, more often than not, I saw these rules played out again and again in our days by the ocean.

     I haven't had much experience with beach houses, but what I've experienced has taught me that beach houses are decorated unlike anything else on earth. For example, this was the upholstery on the sofa.

I couldn't help but wonder as I looked at the sofa and the surrounding furnishings...
...where do people find this stuff? I don't recall ever walking into a store and seeing beach-themed upholstery and shell lamps. I wondered if there were special stores just for beachy furnishings and accessories. A day or so later, I was flipping through the local guide and saw this.

SHELL LAMP OUTLET! There really is a haven just for these ocean-themed items! I've lived in a beach town most of my life and have never seen anything like this, so I wonder if this is the central headquarters for beach decor. No, seriously. Maybe this is where it all comes from. Regardless, I find it fascinating. When you go to the mountains, are the sofas upholstered in rocky prints? Are there leaf-filled lamps on the tables? That has not been the case in my experience. Beach vacations are definitely unique.

     Our final story actually begins a couple of weeks before vacation. Mike treated himself to a cream soda from 7-11 and won one under the cap. He went online, put in his code, and they sent him a coupon for his free 20 oz. bottle from any of the 7-Up products. There were several bottles pictured on the coupon, including Sunkist Grape and Sunkist Fruit Punch. When I saw the coupon, I immediately asked Mike about it. "Did you see this?" "Yeah." "Is that Grape Sunkist?" "It looks like it." "Where do you get Grape Sunkist?" "I have no idea." I was beyond intrigued. After all, Sunkist is the quintessential orange soda. I could only imagine what they would do with a flavor I really liked, like grape. Fast forward to last week (let's go back....to the future!) We're in the local K-Mart picking up things we didn't bring for the beach house, but ended up needing. As usual, Mike went to the soda aisle to see if they had cans of A&W cream soda (you just never know where you'll be able to get it, and it's so impossible to find around here that we've learned to get it whenever we can.) No luck on the cream soda, but when I came down the aisle to find out what the verdict was, my eyes were immediately drawn to the purple box with the Sunkist logo. I gasped as if I'd seen a vision of the virgin Mary in the middle of a waffle. "Mike, look!" I exclaimed. Our excitement was only beginning.

Oh yeah. OH....YEAH!!!!!!! We were hoping for a six pack of bottles so we wouldn't have to buy three 12-packs of soda, but that's all that were available. But, luckily for us, these may just be the most delicious fruit sodas we've ever had the pleasure to consume. In fact, Sunkist Cherry Limeade has moved up my list as one of my favorite sodas ever. It's so amazingly cherry and good. The only tragedy is that I have no idea where I could get these around here if I wanted them. Yes, I said tragedy. Seriously, you have no idea how good these sodas are, and I don't even drink soda usually. That's evidenced by the fact that my resting pulse was 88 after consuming one yesterday. I'm really not used to all that sugar. It's so hard to restrain myself though.

     So, that's my vacation observations in a nutshell. If I remember something later, I'll create the sequel.

I Heart VHS

2008-08-20T16:33:00Z

I had to work with VHS last week. I very rarely deal with VHS anymore. I only pull them out when I'm looking for something buried in one of my beloved tapes. While few would argue the supremacy of DVDs, there are just some things about VHS that I will always love. Here are my top 5.

1. Unlimited Recordability
I can fill a VHS tape with movies and TV shows, keep it for 10 years, then decide I don't want any of those things anymore and record over the whole tape. If I want to record something that's two minutes long, I don't have to pull out a fresh tape just for that. I can find any tape that has two free minutes on it. If I go to make a dub and there's a hiccup in the process, I don't have to throw the whole tape away. I just rewind and start over. I love VHS for that. Plus, if someone gave you a promotional tape that you had no interest in, you could just put a piece of masking tape over that record-protection tab and use it for Thursday night's very special episode of The Cosby Show. That's much better than those useless AOL discs that serve no purpose. (Seriously. I wouldn't even recommend you use them to try AOL.)

2. Durability
It's hard to kill a VHS tape. If you crush the shell of the tape, it will probably still play. If it doesn't, most (if not all) VHS tapes are held together with screws. You can put the actual tape into a different shell if you need to. While it's not recommended, you can leave tapes in piles on the floor (just watch for that static electricity), stacked on shelves, shoved in boxes, or stashed under the bed. The actual tape is protected inside the shell. If you accidentally drop something on a DVD and it cracks, forget about it. That thing is done. The readable part of a disc is always exposed (even if it's to the inside of a case or disc album) and susceptible to dirt, dust, scratches, or other damage. If one part of a DVD gets damaged, the whole disc, and all the information contained on it, is no longer useful. If the tape inside a VHS cassette breaks, as is prone to happen after time, you can just splice it back together with something as simple as transparent tape. Forget about cockroaches, VHS tapes will survive the nuclear holocaust.

3. Capacity
I can make a two-hour tape hold six hours by using the SLP setting. There will be a slight degradation in quality, but nothing significant (keen-eyed videophiles may disagree, but they're probably not reading this, so I stand by my point.) I have used the SLP setting on my DVD recorder, and the video was so compressed it was practically unwatchable. Figuring out that I'm going to need 3-6 DVDs for every one VHS tape I own has slowed my enthusiasm for converting them.

4. They Always Come With a Case
Spools of DVDs may be convenient, but they're not exactly practical for storage. That's why they sell separate jewel cases. But, if I'm going to need the cases anyway, WHY DON'T THEY JUST SELL THE BLASTED DISCS WITH THE CASES? I hate when I have to make a copy of something for someone and I have to hand them a plain disc (which could be easily scratched and rendered unusable, see point #2) because I don't have any spare cases around.

5. You Can Always Pick Up Where You Left Off
You can start watching something, stop in the middle, take the tape out of the VCR so you can use it for something else, put the tape back in, and it's right where you left it. There may be few advantages to linear recording, but darn if that isn't one of them.

BONUS: I just love them. VHS tapes have character. I love the weight when I hold them in my hand. I love the clicky, springy sound of the reels if you bounce them in and out with your fingers, I love the sound a VCR makes when you first put the tape in, I love the way they sit on shelves like library books and the large, labeled spines that make it easy for me to know exactly what's on the tape, I love their shiny black exteriors, and I love all of the seemingly mundane things that the limitations of linear recording forced me to keep on tape that are now some of my favorite things in my VHS collection. I may backup my tapes, but I can't see ever getting rid of them completely. Each cassette serves as a tiny time capsule, and I love each and every one.

My Tivolympics

2008-08-12T18:06:00Z

     People may complain about all the advertising Coke has done during these Olympics, but let me tell you something - it works. I was only 5, but I can tell you that Beatrice was one of the main sponsors of the 1984 Olympic coverage. I don't have the faintest idea what they did (do? Is Beatrice still around?), I just remember that I'd see the name once in a while in places like restaurant bathrooms (maybe they made those giant toilet paper roll dispensers?) and think, "Beatrice. From the Olympics." To this day, it's one of the few memories I still retain from watching my first real Olympics.
     I have been spared the onslaught of advertising this year, however, because it is my first Olympics with TiVo and, let me say, it's everything I dreamed it would be. I fell in love with the Olympics during the 1984 summer games. It was a double whammy for me because not only were they the first games I was aware of, they were in our home country that year - Los Angeles if you recall - so the hype was even bigger. It was a huge event. We visited my grandparents during that time, and the Olympics were on all evening. That was when I learned how special the Olympics were. I still love the Olympics, especially the summer games. They're the only events that the whole world cares about simultaneously. My attention span waned a bit around 1992, but came back big time in 1996 thanks to a gorgeous specimen of a male gymnast named Kip Simons. Though his dashing good looks brought me to the sport of men's gymnastics, I actually stuck around because of the fabulous athletes on the team that year. I got really into it, watching all the meets on ESPN and NBC Sports in the years following. Once most of those guys retired, I waned again. In fact, I recall little of the 2000 and 2004 games. After all, by then I was an adult, and spending all night in front of the TV for two weeks or staying up late to watch those last few hours of coverage was really impractical. Still, when the games were over, I always felt like I'd missed out on something. Then, something wonderful happened. TiVo be thy name.
    Thanks to my beloved TiVo, I have recorded almost every minute of NBC's coverage. I've learned that I enjoy watching beach volleyball, and that water polo can't hold my attention. I haven't been subjected to heart-wrenching back stories of determined athletes, and I don't have to watch gymnasts make the same mistake 20 times from multiple angles. I've been able to skip the coverage of events that didn't interest me (I admire the road racers, but I can only watch them pedal for so long) to get to what I wanted to see, even when they were all sandwiched together. I watched the USA vs. China basketball game in double time, nicely bridging the difference between watching a sport I have never enjoyed and anticlimactically reading the results on the internet. The seemingly endless commercial breaks? Wonderfully, they are no longer an issue. Fear not, Coke and John McCain. I've noticed all of your spots and your advertising messages are duly noted. In fact, I may buy a Coke or two just to prove that TV advertising and TiVo can harmoniously coexist. I have watched hours upon hours of footage that would have been nearly impossible to watch in their entirety, allowing me to have a well-rounded, satisfying Olympic experience that I only imagined. And it's only Day 5!
     My only sobering thought is that had TiVo existed 12 years ago, I wouldn't have those VHS tapes of Kip Simons. Ahhh....Kip.

I'm Here. Did I Miss Anything?

2008-08-12T03:05:00Z

My mother pointed out to me that I hadn't updated my blog in 8 months. I'm aware of that, and I apologize. The cold, hard truth is that this is a light-hearted blog and I haven't been the most light-hearted person this year. I chose to stay silent rather than blog about annoyances and rants all the time. There are enough blogs like that.
I've been wanting to get back to the blog, but I wanted to wait until I felt like I could update with some sort of consistency. So, I'm going to bite the bullet and start updating again. I must have some weird memory I haven't shared with you all yet...

These Are The Posts That Make You Love Me

2007-12-22T08:58:00Z

     I'm on a bit of a Fioricet buzz as a write this. Something tells me that I shouldn't blog when I'm on pain medication, but I've decided to live dangerously.
     A certain thoughtful brother-in-law gave me a fabulous set of old commercials as a Christmas gift. Yeah, I know it's only the 21st...oh wait...the 22nd, but the postal service pretty much destroyed the packaging, which gave me an excuse to pull an Uncle Melvin and decide I should go ahead and open it (yes, I know only about three of my closest family members will understand what that means, but I'm making the reference anyway.) So anyway, I retreated to bed and watched disc two of the set, and now I've developed a need for the weirdest thing. For reasons I can't explain, I must have a vintage Flintstones vitamin bottle.
    The fact that I just wrote "for reasons I can't explain" leads me to believe that maybe I should have gone with my gut and not tried to blog about this, but I just have to get this out. For those of us who have spent most of our lives in the plastic container/child-proof top era, it's easy to forget that once upon a time, everything came in glass bottles. I remember that a little because I remember being so relieved when certain products started being sold in plastic so I didn't have to be so anxious when I handled them. But, for the most part, it's been all plastic all the time. As for Flintstones Vitamins, I can never recall a time when they were in glass. I can only picture them in those white plastic cylinders. Tonight, however, my eyes were opened. I saw the commercial where Fred and Barney were peddling their wares to the children of the early 70's, and I saw the most adorable little glass bottles I ever could have imagined. They made the vitamins look so inviting. I can't explain it, but something told me I had to have it. For curiosity's sake, I checked eBay. If you can believe it, there wasn't a single vintage bottle of vitamins. I didn't expect any that were full of vitamins, but surely there are more people like my grandma who keep every glass bottle they run across. The fact that my eBay search came up empty almost seemed to cement my need for this bottle. Now it's not just a desire, it's a mission.
     Only time will tell if my fascination with this bottle continues, or if I wake up in the morning with a pop-culture addict's version of a "what was I thinking" hangover. For now, though, I must settle for pictures. Maybe one day, Fred and Barney. Maybe one day...

Days of Whine and Grouses

2007-12-12T00:07:00Z

     Lately, the entertainment headlines are reminding me why it took less than two years in the industry to make me abandon my dream of working in television. Most of the people who work in entertainment take themselves way too seriously and are completely out of touch with anything resembling reality.
    I've been observing the strike and reading all the support there is out there for the writers. I understand it. The writers are the clear underdogs in the fight. Studios have plenty of money to go around and yet they're holding out on these lowly scribes who are just trying to make a living. It's seems almost too easy. There's a reason for that. The writers make a lot of good points, I will admit. However, and I'm going to duck flying produce as I say this, I think people are being too hard on the studios. How can I say such a thing? Well, people are getting angry at the studios for only caring about themselves. Duh. That's kind of what we expect them to do. Writers are doing the exact same thing, only they're treated more sympathetically because they're not the symbol of greed and power. Now you're asking how I can be so insensitive when writers are just going in there to fight for what's rightfully theirs...I know, I know. Case in point, when Carson Daly, a non-WGA member whose late night program is barely a blip on the radar screen, said that after weeks of supporting his writers he was going back to his show to preserve the jobs of his non-writing staff, he was completely lambasted for it. At the beginning of the strike, Ellen Degeneres made the same decision and was also treated like a pariah. The writers bully anyone who dares to try to keep working in the industry while they are on strike. After all, where would the industry be without writers. Yeah, I get it. I also have to wonder where the industry would be without...oh...cameramen, lighting directors...people who actually get the printed words on film. The truth is, it's easier to make TV without writers than it is to make them without studio technicians. Let's not forget that striking writers are still earning residuals on their previous work while all of this is going on. The "evil" networks even kept non-writing staffers on the payroll for many weeks, even though they weren't getting any work out of them, and then were treated like the portrait of evil when they decided it wasn't in their best interest to continue doing that anymore. Hello, it's the entertainment BUSINESS. Why do we expect them to be anything more than the corporate, bottom-line watchers that they are. Granted, the studios have been hypocritical on some of the issues. As one writer famously pointed out, they claim internet broadcasting is promotion that does nothing for them financially, then sue YouTube for millions in damages over their programs being broadcast without their consent. If what the studios say is true, then shouldn't they be thrilled at all the "free promotion"? Studios claim that they make nothing from the internet and writers believe they make a small fortune. The truth lies somewhere in the middle and it amazes me that no one's been able to figure out the truth and present it with facts. Meanwhile, the writers try to paint this picture that they're only asking for a few crumbs that fall to the floor from the studios' banquet, but in reality some of their demands are really out there. I'm not sure where the idea of forcing writers that are currently under the jurisdiction of other unions to be under the authority of the WGA falls into their "we're just trying to make a decent living for our families" sob story. I keep reading on these industry sites how "the public is with the writers", and I wonder how true that is. Are we talking the New York and LA "public" or the public in general - the people who work every day to build their employers' companies for a modest paycheck, hoping to unwind to a little TV at night only to find nothing but reruns because the writers believe that they aren't getting enough every time someone makes money off of their work. That's what most of America deals with every day.
    Similarly, I read today about freelancers in New York complaining about benefits. That in and of itself confused me. I've never heard of freelancers getting benefits. Apparently, Viacom utilizes the help of freelancers on a full-time basis and offers them some benefits in return for their steady work. Now they've cut those benefits, so the "permalancers", as they call themselves, walked out and took to the streets to protest their unfair treatment. "This company that doesn't officially employ us has cut our benefits!" they could have chanted. A blog even had the nerve to refer to them as slaves. When I freelance, and this is pretty much true for every freelancer I know of, it is known that you are a contractor. You pay your own taxes, you are responsible for your own retirement savings, and you take care of your own insurance needs. There are also advantages to being a freelancer over an employee. You can say, "I don't want to work here anymore" and leave. Since you are not officially employed, there's not much they can say to you about that. You are officially your own boss and you can choose to sell your services to someone else. That seems to directly contradict that whole "slave" mentality this underappreciative group seems to have. If you want retirement savings, then save your money. Put it in an IRA or other savings plan like every other freelancer in the country has to do. In fact, that's the responsible choice for anyone who isn't officially employed by a company. As a freelancer, you are responsible for your own well-being. That's the way it works. I don't care if the years you've spent working there makes you feel like you're more of an employee than a freelancer - if that's what you are officially, then that's what you are and you need to be aware of what that entails. You may be used to the benefits Viacom has given you, but they are in no way required to give them to you. By the way, is there any way we can get "Roots" played on the big screen in Times Square, where the walkout is going on, to put the suffering of these Viacom "slaves" into perspective?
    I feel the most appropriate way to end this is the way I started this: Most of the people who work in entertainment take themselves way too seriously and are completely out of touch with anything resembling reality. It's entertainment, people. You make entertainment. Maybe it's time you all chilled out and got a little perspective.

A Thanksgiving Treat

2007-11-22T00:41:00Z

Hi-o! I don't know why, I just felt like giving a McMahon-style greeting to all this Thanksgiving Eve. I found this on YouTube. I know it's a bit choppy, but I thought that most of the people that visit the blog would enjoy it. Have a fun Thanksgiving, everyone!

You Don't Know What You Got 'Til It's Gone

2007-11-13T19:06:00Z

     The older I get, the dumber other adults get.
     When we were walking the strip in Las Vegas this past April, I took pictures of every remnant of old Vegas I could find, and there wasn't much. Thank goodness for digital because I think I took the equivalent of a roll of film just of the newly imploded Stardust, the bottom half of the sign still standing there like some sort of cemetery marker. Signs seem to be some of the last things to go, as next door to the former Stardust was an empty lot with the skeleton of a sign out front - the former Westward Ho which was demolished in late 2006. I even photographed a towering, deteriorating sign for El Rancho, a hotel demolished way back in 2000. After snapping away at the sites for Stardust and Westward Ho, we crossed the street to the Frontier. My dad said something to the effect of, "I bet this one's days are numbered." We had no idea how right he was.
    What was a fully-functioning hotel and casino just seven months ago is today a pile of debris. They imploded it just hours ago. In its place will be yet another obscenely extravagant hotel for people with more money than sense. In reference to the new hotel, the Associated Press quoted owner Yitzhak Tshuva as saying, in a way that couldn't possibly be seen as flaunting his greed and materialism in the face of God, "I think that there should be no price tag for a place with such enormous potential." I'm normally no prude, but we're not talking about a community center or hospital or research facility here, we're talking about a casino - a virtual palace of debauchery. Is that the enormous potential of which he speaks? Now people can get drunk, lose insane amounts of money, and wallow in complete hedonism in a much more expensive building than they did before? Put me on the waiting list! It says that Tshuva gave hugs as the hotel came down. Yeah, eradicating a piece of modern history warms the cockles of my heart too.
     I guess it shouldn't be all that surprising that a town built on indulgence loses more of its past with each generation. It is somewhat ironic that the attitudes that built the glitzy, eye-popping hotels 40-some years ago are the same ones that are calling for those buildings to be rendered obsolete and replaced with something glitzier and more eye-popping. In 40 years, should God withhold his judgment that long, our children will be calling for multi-billion dollar spectacles to built in place of outdated eyesores like the Venetian, the Bellagio and, yes, even The Plaza Hotel that will be built in the spot where the Frontier stood a mere 24 hours ago. I guess I should expect nothing less from a town that lives by the unofficial mottoes "Live in the moment" and "If it feels good do it", yet it probably surprises you to hear that every time another piece of Vegas history topples, my heart breaks a little.
     When I was a kid, too young to even remember the year, my dad went to Las Vegas. One of the things he brought back was a souvenir pictorial - essentially a bunch of post cards attached to each other and folded up in an accordion style. As a kid whose trips had never gotten more exotic than seeing the bright lights of Dairy Queen on Rt. 460 between home and Grandma's, I was mesmerized that such a place could actually exist. I looked at the postcards often and wondered what it must be like to see a place like that in real life. Over 20 years later, when I finally got the chance to see it for myself, most of the hotels that mesmerized me as a kid - hotels like The Sands and The Dunes - were long gone. Even some of the hotels that remained, like The Riviera, which were once flagships on the strip, had been reverted to also-rans, so hidden among the bigger, more bankable hotels that I sometimes had to look at my pictures to realize I'd even seen them. That's why I was so happy when I'd get to sneak a peek at something that resembled the Vegas of those postcards - the larger than life marquees advertising cheap buffets and B-list (if you're lucky) entertainment, skyscraping signs lit up by individual tiny bulbs and not high-tech LED, architectural details that had managed to escape remodeling and remained to hold testament to that hotel's golden age. I'd find some sort of satisfaction in a seeing where a newer sign facade or banner had fallen off, revealing a rusty sign from some long-since forgotten hotel. It was like the proverbial tell-tale heart, not letting the "onward and upward" Vegas developers forget the history they were trying to erase with their latest pet projects. They almost seemed to be coming back from the dead to warn these trendy new attractions that they were once the trendy new attractions too, and someday their fates would be the same.
     Spectacular implosions may make Las Vegas one of the most high profile cities when it comes to tearing down the old to build the new, but they're certainly not alone. Many east coast beach towns are experiencing the same fate. I see it every year in my town - another quaint motor inn from the 60's comes down so a behemoth, view-blocking hotel can replace it. Homes built for the baby boom are unceremoniously bulldozed to make way for town plazas and condos, more pieces of another era completely gone. Unfortunately, these projects also mean converting the affordable to the upscale. One $200,000 dollar home is replaced with condos going for $450,000+ a piece. A $79 a night motel is replaced by a $300 a night hotel. Post-war bungalows are flattened to make space for high-end boutiques. This is another reason I find today's decision-makers dumber and dumber. By replacing everything with "bigger and better" (i.e. more expensive), they are contributing to making life harder. People will have to work longer hours at more jobs to be able to afford anything. How does it improve life when you have to save up for a year to be able to afford any type of vacation that doesn't involve an air mattress on your parents' floor? Nowadays, parents practically have to sacrifice the experience of their children's childhoods just to be able to afford a roof over their heads. Our generation is criticized for owning homes that have been obnoxiously dubbed "McMansions", but it's hard to avoid them when the smaller homes that our parents and grandparents successfully raised families in are being razed and the only thing being built in their places are these excessive houses. For whatever reason, we keep insisting on erasing our past so that we can improve upon it. Does anyone stop to think that maybe the past doesn't need our improving? Maybe it's fine the way it is.
    I would not suggest that every old building be saved. That's not only unrealistic and impractical, but just as ignorant as tearing down every old building. I would encourage people to break out of the mentality that old is bad simply because it's old. We shoot dirty looks at people who throw away an aluminum can instead of recycling, but we think nothing of turning a usable building into a pile of debris because it can be replaced with something that looks more modern. We also need to stop being so near-sighted when it comes to history. I wish so badly I could find the article, but I read not too long ago about internet groups that are trying to chronicle the endangered species that is the enclosed shopping mall, a big piece of late '70's-early'90's American culture. When a member of some large preservation group was asked if they might ever look into saving some of these malls, the woman pretty much sniffed at the idea that they would be interested in preserving a [shudder] mall! These same groups rally to save things like single-family residences, buildings that were only significant to a handful of people, simply because of their age and the fact that they are some of the last remaining edifices of their time. Yet the idea that something like a shopping mall, which in some places were social centers of the community, could be of historical significance in 50 years is so absurd?
     Buildings that the greatest generation built with their own hands have stood for years as monuments to optimism and the desire for the American dream. They are quickly becoming no more than memories, making way for new buildings that stand as monuments for gluttony and trendiness. I hate to think it, but maybe that is the new American dream. I wonder how Canada is this time of year...

One Strike, You're Out

2007-11-07T04:20:00Z

        I was playing video games last night around 11:30. I usually watch The Tonight Show on Monday nights, but I knew it was a rerun, so I just kept doing what I was doing. To me, that is the main weakness of the latest writer's strike.
     There are lots of little details to the strike, most of which turn my brain to pudding, but the gist is that television and film writers want a piece of the pie when their creations are rebroadcast over the internet and all sorts of other digital avenues that are developing as we speak. As for which side has the strongest case, well, let's just say there are plenty of valid points and greed to go around. The nuances of the strike aren't really the point of this little article.
     Because the movie studios have plenty of stockpiled scripts, the immediate effects will be felt more strongly in the television industry. Late-night programming was brought to a stand-still almost immediately. The last time the writers had a strike of this magnitude was 1988. Nearly a decade later, they've decided that this is still the best way to resolve their differences. The irony is, the main reason for this strike is the same issue that makes me wonder if it will backfire for the Writers Guild of America. The internet wasn't a threat to television in 1988. In fact, I dare say there are more alternatives to television than ever before. In the short run, that may seem like a good thing for the writers - in theory, people will stop watching more quickly, and the quicker people stop watching television the quicker the studios will do whatever it takes to get the shows, and subsequently the viewers, back. The problem is, we may not care anymore when, in fact, those shows do come back. The popularity of digital video recorders shows that our current culture is making television fit its schedule instead of the old-style way of appointment viewing. No new programs on the TiVo means more time for other things. Aside from that, the current season has done little more than tie up last season's cliffhangers or set-up the premises of the new shows. There's a reason seasons end with cliffhangers - to keep people interested over the hiatus. If the strike drags on as long or longer than the 1988 strike (22 weeks), we'll be asked to return to shows, characters, and/or storylines we barely got familiar with. Hollywood is like an angry spouse that walks out on its family, then returns months later expecting everything to be the way it was before. That's not the way life works.
     In today's world, there is a lot of competition for our time and attention. Television is not the go-to source for entertainment it once was. Even those of us who love TV don't watch it the same way we did nine years ago. That leads me to the aforementioned digital video recorders. I would guess that there are many people with a TiVo backlog that can get them through the first week or two of the strike. There's also video on demand. In 1988, viewers didn't have complete seasons of TV shows at their fingertips. If we want to watch TV and the networks will just be showing reruns anyway, we might as well watch the DVDs with bonus content and no commercials. Though cable was very present in 1988, it didn't pose nearly the same threat it does today. Cable will also see a lot of its original programming on indefinite hiatus, but without the competition from first-run network programs, the reruns may find new life. Let's not forget the channels that pretty much survive on the replaying of beloved shows that people may enjoy getting reacquainted with. The sheer ratio of cable channels to network channels suggests that if the networks get mired in reruns, television-hungry viewers will be able to find something to watch that they haven't seen before, or a sentimental favorite they haven't seen in years.
     Younger viewers will probably just tune out altogether. In a world where every college student with a webcam views himself as a "filmmaker", the web is chock full of free content. Granted, a lot of it is mediocre at best, but there are a few diamonds hiding in the rough, and they'll have plenty of time to find them. I'll even go so far as to suggest that the networks could start filling time with viewer-submitted content. With current home video equipment producing footage equivalent to broadcast standards of the not-so-distant past, that's a very real possibility. There will also be plenty who'll just use the time to get better acquainted with their computers and video game consoles. Why not schedule an all-night session of Halo 3? There's nothing good on TV anyway.
     Older viewers may also opt to tune out, but those that don't will pose a different threat to the WGA. You see, the networks have another tool at their disposal that wasn't around in 1988 - reality TV. Sure, there were news programs and true life stories back then, but today there are also endless competition shows that consistently top the ratings, and that's with first-run scripted shows vying for the same viewers. In the beginning, many people will watch the shows because they're there, but then they'll get hooked in. That's the way these things go.
     As viewers stay tuned in, and the networks continue to survive without the help of a single television writer, the bargaining power of the WGA gets weakened. I won't suggest that scripted television is obsolete or even that the major networks can survive long term without it, but the strike may prove just how well the networks can get along without writers when necessary, something that may be more damaging to the WGA in the long run than the actual issues for which they're striking.

Oh, Rob!

2007-10-22T18:36:00Z

    In shopping for a reunion dress last week, I was forced to come face to face with a reality about myself. I want to be Laura Petrie.
This is not new information for me. It's something I've always thought in the recesses of my mind, but I've never admitted it to myself, at least not out loud. I've always thought of Laura as the perfect housewife (not that I like admitting that I'm a housewife. I'm a freelancer who tends to the house between jobs, which just happens to be most of the time.) She was cute, sexy, witty, supportive, and every bit Rob's intellectual equal. Not only that, she had an adorable wardrobe. Her clothes were always attractive, but they were also practical for whatever she was doing. I've often dreamed of having her wardrobe. I don't mean an updated version of her wardrobe. I want the authentic, 1960's, Laura Petrie collection. It's always something that has resided in my fantasy world, but it's never seeped its way into reality. However, something happened last Friday that made me confront this truth head on.
I was perusing the racks at Macy's and saw a dress that took my breath away. It was a classic, silk chiffon cocktail dress - like something out of my Laura Petrie fantasies. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the dress actually called my name. But I got one look at the price tag - $160 - and I was gone. I couldn't mess around with a dress that costly. Still, as I kept walking around looking for dresses better suited to my budget, I kept hearing, "Oh, just put it on. You'll always wonder what you would have looked like in it." I knew it was true. I can remember specific dresses I fell in love with 10 or even 15 years ago, sometimes better than dresses I've actually owned. Quickly, before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed the dress and headed into the fitting room. I put it on, zipped it up, and looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn't stop smiling. I was Laura Petrie, and I loved it. It wasn't about what people would think if they saw me in it - for once I didn't care about that. It wasn't even about the way it looked on me so much, even though I liked it. It was about the way I felt when I put it on. It felt good to wear something that suited my personality so much as opposed to trying to find something with hints of my personality in the midst of whatever fashion is being mass produced that season. I've never before had the experience of putting on something that looks like I could have imagined it into being. I couldn't even resist whispering the words, "I love this dress", as if the feeling were so strong that I couldn't contain it in my head any longer and it overflowed to my lips. After some lingering in front of the mirror, I realized I had to move on, so the dress went back to the hanger and I went back out into the store.
     If you're waiting for the moment where I decide to do something for myself and buy the dress anyway, I hate to disappoint you. As much happiness as I felt wearing it, I know that the happiness would have been greatly diminished by the knowledge that I'd paid $160 for the privilege. But, I've been on eBay every day watching for it, hoping someone will wear it once, decide to sell it, and pass the savings on to me. The dream isn't over. I may just have that little silk chiffon number yet. Then I'll throw a dinner party to celebrate. Of course we'll invite Buddy and Sally. Tell Buddy that Pickles can come too.

R.I.P., Big Bacon Classic

2007-09-25T16:31:00Z

      This blog is about nothing if not the little things that are important to me (and few other people). So, since this is my own private forum, I'll use it to shout out my grief for the loss of the Big Bacon Classic at Wendy's.
       How can they get rid of the Big Bacon Classic, you ask? It's easy. There was only room for one supreme bacon cheeseburger and they opted for The Baconator. How could they do this? Where the Big Bacon Classic was, as the name implied, a classic bacon cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, and onion on a kaiser roll, the Baconator is like the epitome of everything making Americans obese - two beef patties, multiple cheese slices, SIX slices of bacon, and not a vegetable in sight. Granted, health isn't foremost in my mind when I choose to walk into a Wendy's, but there's eating something that isn't all that good for you, and eating something that seems equivalent to poison. I find the idea that these sandwiches are interchangeable preposterous and a painful reminder that Dave Thomas isn't holding down the fort anymore. But this isn't about the Baconator, this is about the Big Bacon Classic, the burger I proclaimed as my favorite fast food burger for many years.
    My love for the Big Bacon Classic (heretofore referred to as the BBC, not to be confused with the television networks) started a long, long time ago (you know, the '80s.) Actually, it started with the Big Classic. I think it was around 1986. I was a young kid and my dad was making a burger run to Wendy's. All the adults were getting the Big Classic. I was excited because I wanted one too. I'd been mesmerized by the commercials. I don't remember getting as excited about the sandwich as I did about the packaging. This was back in the days of styrofoam burger boxes, and in order to accommodate the large kaiser roll, the Big Classic was served in something that can only be described as a styrofoam dome. The commercials captivated me (see one here.) This was something new, something to be experienced. Finally, I had my chance. I told my dad I wanted what everyone else was having. "No," he said like I was a complete idiot for even trying. My heart was broken. Sweet Big Classic, you would never be mine. I'm not sure if they took it off the menu or if I was too blinded by the Superbar to remember my unfulfilled burger desire, but I didn't revisit the issue until the early 90s. I believe that's when the Big Bacon Classic was introduced, and I took notice. By this time I was in my early teens and finally ready to make up for lost time. There was no styrofoam dome anymore, but it was no longer about that. Now it was the principle of the thing. It was actually at this point that I rediscovered a love for burgers that McDonald's had killed long ago with its "food". Wendy's became my favorite place. As a growing girl with an insatiable appetite, the BBC was my favorite thing to order, usually Biggie-sized. It was great not to finish a meal and still be hungry. There was actually a point in my life where it wasn't unheard of for me to eat Wendy's for lunch and dinner. I'll probably pay for those days in a few years... But, in more recent times, Wendy's has become a much more rare excursion, and even though I always expected the BBC to taste good, with the first bite I was reminded that it was always going to taste better than my mind could remember. It was the perfect fast food burger, and now it's gone.
   I've heard there's been an online insurgence to get the BBC back. I hope it's true, and I hope it proves to be successful. In an era where all the fast food restaurants are trying to position themselves as either extremely health-conscious or the place to indulge your most gluttonous tendencies, there are still some of us who just want a decent bacon cheeseburger. For here or to go.

No, It's Not Your Imagination

2007-09-13T00:13:00Z

We got a new look! (By "we" I mean the blog. I guess we've become one now.) Go Daddy was telling me that I needed to update my theme if I wanted to take advantage of the cool new blog features. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not actually going to do anything cool with the blog, I just wanted the option. So, enjoy. I hope you like what I've done with the place.

No One Else Likes Your Dog

2007-09-12T23:09:00Z

    I should begin this with the disclaimer that I have dog-owning friends who respect that not everyone loves their dogs as much as they do, and friends whose dogs know how to act around people. This isn't aimed at them, but for the remaining 70-75% of dog owners I encounter on a fairly regular basis.
     When I was a little girl I was petrified of dogs. I was accidentally knocked over one time and that was enough for me. But, as I grew up, I went into something of a cooling off period. I became more or less indifferent to them. Now, I'm heading back into that completely anti-dog territory.
      Mike and I were mowing the lawn a few weeks ago shortly after the "Under Contract" sign went up next door. After we were done, I turned to Mike with a big grin on my face and said, "Do you realize that we're not going to have to deal with those yippy mongrels anymore?" We basked in the happy thought. Imagine, being able to actually go outside in our own yard without being barked at through the fence the whole time. Sure enough, our neighbors left and took the Yiptastic Two with them. We got new neighbors and everything was great until they got settled in and realized the only thing that would make their new home picture perfect was a dog. I don't know, maybe they always had the dog and just waited until everything was ready to bring him home. All I know is that I was living the cautionary sentence: "Be careful what you wish for." There's only one thing I hate more than a tiny ankle biter, and that's a big dog. Today I took some trash out to the side of the house and instead of the old, high-pitched barks, I was greeted with a terrifying, deep bark. It was the kind of bark that reverberates through your whole body. It certainly got my attention. I actually whipped around to make sure he wasn't there, ready to attack. Thankfully, the fence seemed to be holding him quite well. I wasted no time getting back in the house, lamenting the fact that there was now a new dog whose whole life purpose seems to be sitting in the backyard and barking at the neighbors (i.e.: us.)
     I guess I can't blame the dogs too much. Most of the blame lies with the owners. Maybe they're too blinded with love and affection to see what's going on. (Hmmm...not unlike some parents I know...but that's another blog entry.) If your dog is 10 lbs. and runs up to greet me at the door, I'm not going to care that much. If that dog completely lost its mind and started attacking me, the worst I'd be dealing with would probably be some stitches and maybe some shots depending on what made your dog go crazy. When your dog weighs more than I do and comes running up at me at full speed to say hello, I'm going to get scared. Don't be offended, don't try to make me feel silly because "she wouldn't hurt anyone" - your dog could kill me. Heck, your dog could actually love me to death. I know someone whose dog is so big it practically knocks me over just nudging me with its nose. It's very unsettling. Now, if I'm at someone's house, there's not a lot I can say. That's my friend's house and my friend's dog, and I'm just going to have to grin and bear it. It bothers me the most when I'm out in public, or when people take it upon themselves to bring their dog because "he's a member of the family." No, he's not. I doubt I'd feel the cold, wet nose of your kid on my arm while I was trying to eat (that has happened so many times, I can't even tell you...with the dogs, I mean.)
     So, here are my parting thoughts. First of all, remember that you live with the dog every day and have a comfortable relationship with him. No one else has that. Don't take for granted that other people aren't going to be as OK with him being all up in their space as you are. It may seem ridiculous to you because you know your dog and know he wouldn't hurt a fly, but it's not all about you or your dog. For some people, violent tendencies aren't the issue. Any animal that can overpower me is intimidating to me, I don't care how friendly. In fact, it's the extra-affectionate dogs that usually bother me the most. Second of all, no matter how much he may seem like a family member to you, he's still an animal. Maybe keep him away from the table while other people are eating, or remember that other people won't find his affectionate face licking as adorable as you do. Thirdly, safety isn't just a priority for you. You may buy a big hulking dog because you want to feel safe, but if he growls at barks at everyone in proximity - including the neighbors in their own yards - then that's a problem because you're taking away their feeling of safety and security. You may be too self-centered to appreciate that it's a problem, or may just write it off because you know your dog is all bark and no bite (see parting thought #1), but it's a problem. Finally, this may seem inconceivable to you, but some people don't love animals. It's not a character flaw, a quirk, or something they can be cured of with enough exposure to your precious little puppy. Please respect that next time you think about bringing your pooch to what is expected to be an all-human event.
     Thank you. That is all.

Yes, I Remember I Have A Blog

2007-09-10T21:00:00Z

Hi, everyone! I'm really sorry I haven't blogged lately. I've really wanted to, but I haven't had anything to write about. Well, that's not exactly true, but...OK, for example, say I go out to dinner with you tonight, then tomorrow you read on my blog something like, "Don't you hate it when someone you only kind of like invites you to dinner and you feel obligated to say yes?" You'd pretty much figure that was about you, huh? Well, I've had a lot of moments like that (but none that even closely resemble that specific one, so if I've eaten with you, don't sweat it.)
So, with that said, I wanted to say something here so people wouldn't quit checking this page from time to time. Yes, there will be more stuff here, hopefully in the not-to-distant future. Until then, thanks for being faithful.

Do You Believe In Magic, In A Young Girl's Heart...

2007-07-25T21:02:00Z

     I went to good ol' Kings Dominion this weekend. I'm so glad I don't have to worry about saying "Paramount's" anymore. It always felt unnatural.
     I'd been working on a tribute to KD's big stage show of 1992, "It's Magic", for a while, but I got stuck on something and let it sit. Then, when I was back there this weekend, sitting in the old theatre and letting their cast of six make me wistful for the big production numbers of yore, I was inspired to finish it. I still didn't. Today when I was on X-Entertainment reading Matt's tribute to his own summer of '92, I made up my mind once and for all to finish my tribute. So here it is, complete with personal stories, lots of pictures, and even the entire show available to stream or download.
     It was way too much to be contained on this blog, so I made a separate page for it. Enjoy!

Mike and Lori Simpson

2007-07-24T19:34:00Z

As part of the Simpsons Movie media blitz, Burger King has launched simpsonizeme.com, a place where you can upload your pictures and Simpsonize yourself. Clearly people have been waiting years for this because I've been trying for days to get on. I think the time spent was worth it. What do you think?

The Taste of Childhood Birthdays

2007-07-13T17:08:00Z

     Sorry about yesterday. I got busy doing something and the next thing I knew it was 5:00. Yes, I spent eight hours doing one thing. Just like a real job! (D'oh!)
      It's probably just as well because I only had one more idea and I wasn't sure what I was going to write about after that. We've covered the presents, so today is a tribute to the other staple of childhood birthday parties: the cake. Growing up, we didn't do the traditional cake. We had something so much more awesome...

Behold the Friendly's Wattamelon Roll! Just looking at that picture I can almost taste it. We first started having these when we moved to my grandparents' house. We hadn't had any Friendly's near us, but they had a couple relatively close. I was always a big fan of ice cream cake, and my guess is that they went to get an ice cream cake, saw how expensive they were, and opted for the cheaper sherbet roll. Thankfully, it did not disappoint.
     It's an amazing feat of confectionary engineering. The "rind" is made of lime sherbet, the "fruit" of watermelon sherbet, and the seeds of chocolate chips. I'm not sure who decided to first attempt that combination, but hopefully we'll meet in heaven one day. Not only is it tasty, but it adds the perfect amount of culinary atmosphere to a summer birthday. Biting a Wattamelon Roll makes me think of sitting at my grandparents' picnic table under the string of party lights with lightning bugs flying all around. It was my compensation for having a birthday in the summer when no one was around to come to a party.
     As years went by, we still had the Wattamelon Roll for Tracy's birthday, but I had found something else to make my taste buds dance.

Oh, Dutch Fudge Roll. How I love thee. There's one drawback to the Dutch Fudge Roll - it can only serve, at most, about eight people, and that's if you slice it pretty thin. However, as I mentioned before, none of my friends partied with me anyway so...the parents, Grandma, Grandpa...yep, perfect for six. I didn't know where I was going to get a picture of this for the blog, so I started searching archive.com, Yahoo! images, and anything else I could think of. I didn't think I was going to have any luck. On a lark, I decided to try Friendlys.com. They still make these! I can't believe it! Our stupid Friendly's doesn't seem to have anything in the freezer case but half gallons, so I thought the whole chain had simplified their take home treats. Nope, apparently there are still decent restaurants out there where you can pick up your roll of choice or one of those sundae cups that I still crave from time to time. Friendly's used to be my favorite restaurant. Knowing that there may be some out there that still have that old spirit renews my faith a little.
     Well, it's Friday, and I'm not going to pretend that I might post tomorrow. So, this has been birthday week. Thinking of these things has gotten me a little more into the spirit, at least as much as you can when you're about to turn 28. Maybe this year I can party like it's 1989.

Birth-day

2007-07-11T16:50:00Z

     Birthday week continues. I promised yesterday not to leave you hanging about my other birthday list item, and I know you've been waiting with baited breath to find out more.
     I used to tell my mom I wasn't going to have kids. I may have been young, but I knew enough about childbirth to know I didn't want any part of that. However, when it came to make-believe, having children involved no pain or invasive exams, so I was all about it. I loved being mother to all my dolls and was pretty attached to all of them. I asked for a baby doll every birthday and Christmas so I could look forward to the "birth" of another member of the family. Now, of course, those dates are pretty close together in terms of gestation, so when I was old enough to figure that out, I decided that I had a rare disease that made my babies develop abnormally quickly, thus reducing pregnancy time and allowing me to justify having babies in July and December of every year. I've said it before and I'll say it again - WEIRD KID.
     There was a bit of a process. Sometimes I would actually stuff clothes inside my pajamas on nights close to my birthday and fall asleep rubbing my "belly". I'd have names picked out, and when my baby arrived, I'd decide whether it was a boy or a girl and name it accordingly. Then, that night, I'd fall asleep with my newborn in my arms, feeling the joy of having a new family member. I'd usually wake up in the morning to the guilt of seeing my vinyl bundle of joy face down on the carpet where I had knocked it out of the bed. Oops.
    So, you see, July 15th isn't just my birthday, but my babies' birthdays too. Jeffery Alan will be 19, Phyllis Virginia will be 18, and there are others, of course, that I can't remember right now. I'm a terrible mother.

We Girls Could Do Anything, Right Barbie?

2007-07-10T15:35:00Z

     As a kid, I said it would never happen to me, but that's just the way life is. I just don't get that excited about my birthday anymore. I remember when the countdown started shortly after Christmas. Now it's not unusual for me to go, "Hey, my birthday's in a week. How about that." When I think about looking forward to my birthday as a kid, the first thing I think about is presents. A kid with no allowance didn't get the opportunity for new stuff all that often, so birthdays and Christmas were known as the days when I got enough stuff to last me the next 6 months. There were two things you could count on me asking for on every gift-giving holiday, and one of them was a new Barbie (I won't leave you hanging about the second one, but I won't go into it today.) Actually, it was usually Barbie's friend. I may have gone into this during the Christmas Countdown, but I never liked Barbie as much as her friends. They were usually prettier and wore very similar clothes, but they were never allowed to be as popular. Why? Because they didn't follow the stereotype that the prettiest girls have to be fair skinned, blonde-haired, and draped in pink. That may seem hypocritical coming from a fair-skinned blonde (I can't help genetics), but it still made me mad. Besides, once you have one Barbie, why do you need several more? At least with her friends, you could diversify the neighborhood a bit. Otherwise it would feel a little bit like a toy version of the Stepford wives with Ken in the middle, goofy smile molded onto his face.
     I remember really wanting Tropical Miko one year.

It must have been 1987, because that was the year I was living with my grandparents over my birthday. To make things easier on everyone, I taped my birthday list up in the hall where everyone could see it. How's that for brazen? Anyway, I remember that a man from the church came by shortly before my birthday, and in making conversation with me found out about the list and asked to see it. He asked me what a "Tropical MY-ko" was. "It's MEE-ko," I quickly corrected him. He could have just told me that 2+2=5 and my nearly eight-year-old self couldn't have thought he was any dumber. Looking back, of course, I see it was a pretty easy mistake to make, yet for some reason, my perception of him has never been able to fully recover from that day when I lost nearly all respect for him. By the way, I didn't get a Miko that year. It was either that year or the next, however, when I got my favorite Barbie ever.

Ahhh...Jewel Secrets Whitney. Isn't she beautiful? Well, imagine her without the goofy backwards jacket. What a dumb look. Stupid 80's fashion.
     Whitney was the crown jewel of my collection. In my world, Barbie was trying desperately to get Ken's attention, but he was too smitten with the brunette beauty. Barbies were a dime a dozen, but Whitney...she was something different. Poor Barbie even had to look happy as she stood by Saturday after Saturday and watch Ken and Whitney get married yet again. Barbie never won. It was my world and I made the rules. Not even having her foot chewed off by my little sister could diminish her beauty. She was truly one of my favorite gifts. Of course, as any girl (any girl who played with Barbies anyway) can tell you, there was more to getting a new Barbie than the doll.

     Accessories were always exciting. This particular accessory came with Barbie (which my sister had), but Whitney came with the tiara you see her wearing, that jacket, and this weird, ribbed cape thing which always made me crave Ruffles potato chips. That last part isn't a joke.

I remember she also came with a storybook which didn't interest me at all. For one, I liked coming up with my own stories. Second, I hated that no matter which doll you bought, Barbie was always the heroine, or at least front and center. Barbie was annoying.
     Not only were there accessories, but there was the one thing I looked forward to almost as much as the doll...the fashion booklet!

I don't know if they even bother with these anymore. Barbie fashion isn't what it used to be and has probably rendered these things obsolete. I remember looking through them as a kid and picking out all the outfits I'd love to have. I pretty much never got any of them because they were rather impossible to ask for on a list (the outfits didn't have names anymore by the mid 80's) and I didn't have the means to get them myself. Still, I marveled at the beautiful clothes and managed to be impressed at how they could make Barbie dolls with all the same hair and features look so different from each other with poses, lighting, and hair styling. I can't believe I noticed that. What a weird kid. Anyway, in an effort to find pictures of one of these booklets, I found one from 1984 that was only $4 (incl. shipping), and I couldn't help myself. It's a birthday treat to myself. Besides, on eBay there were pages of "rare" booklets from the 60's, but hardly any from the 80's. If they're that hard to find, that means this is less of a luxury purchase and more of an investment. Yeah, that's it. In any case, now I get to spend at least part of my 28th birthday much like I did my 8th, perusing a Barbie fashion booklet and picking out my favorite outfits. Birthdays rule.

Birthday Week!

2007-07-09T19:50:00Z

It's my birthday week and I thought it would be fun to do something every day that's purely for my own enjoyment. The problem is, I came up with this idea 15 minutes ago, so it's a little late. Whether or not I post anything new over the next several days remains to be seen and, admittedly, this is a lame excuse for an entry. Still, the love is there.

Ever wonder what I would be like if I were a guy who smokes, drinks, and swears too much? Um...probably not. Still, that incarnation of me exists in Matt, the guy who runs my absolute favorite site, X-Entertainment. In thinking of what I would want to do here, I thought of this entry from the early days of the site, and thought I'd take an easy way out and just link to his instead of writing my own. Warning: there is some foul language on there (he swore even more seven years ago than he does now), but if you can get past that, I hope you can appreciate his 8th birthday party as much as I do. If you find what I write entertaining, then you just might.