Somewhere between South Windsor, CT and Somerville, MA, the disease I previously thought to be terminal- the strain of intense anger known as Massholitis Road Ragemonia, which causes inexplicable flare ups of unreasonable bouts of madness while driving- ceased to exist within my system.
At exit 72 on route 84, when traffic screeched to a halt at 7:50pm on Sunday night, I thought for sure I would fly off the handle if I was forced to drive bumper to bumper with the world's worst drivers (The Moms and The Dads who drop their kids off at college after Easter/Spring Break) at 20 mph for the next 5 minutes. After following an idiot- no, make that a stupidiot- who preferred to chat with his friends instead of paying attention to the road forcing me to downshift unnecessarily 6 or 7 or 100 times, I waited for my blood to begin boiling. When I had gone only 7 miles in 30 minutes, and was only at Charleton Plaza(CHARLETON PLAZA) almost 2 hours into my journey, mainly due to the fact that nobody knows how to merge or pick up toll tickets in a quick and speedy manner, I expected the feeling of uncontrollable anger to take over my system in the form of laying my hand on the horn for 15 minutes straight, but that feeling never came.
Instead, I found myself looking at the positive side of things. It's not every day I get to practice driving in such horrendous traffic with such irresponsible drivers! After getting through the worst of it, I gave myself seventeen pats on the back and one high five (even though high fives aren't my style) because I did such a fantastic job coasting easily through the jam.
I also took advantage of the additional time I was in the car. That mix CD I made before I went home for Easter on Saturday? I now know the lyrics to every song, including "You Can Call Me Al." I am bringing up "You Can Call Me Al" specifically, because this is a song I have liked for many years, not because of the content of the lyrics or even the catchy tune but because I always found the music video hysterical. Tonight, for the first time ever, I actually took the time to listen to the words of the song, because I realized I only knew the first part and the chorus and during the rest of it I would hum along and wait until the "Na-na-na---na!" part. Do you know what I discovered after listening to this song repeatedly? The words make NO sense AT ALL.
When I finally made it home, I went immediately to my mactop to look up the meaning of the lyrics. The only tidbit of information Wikipedia gave me was this: "The names in the song came from an incident at a party that Simon went to with his wife Peggy Harper. The host of the party called Paul "Al", and Peggy "Betty", inspiring Simon to write a song." Well, Wiki, that doesn't nearly explain who the man is who walks down the street, soft in the middle and short of attention span who needs a photo opportunity and is worried about ending up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard. Why did his role model disappear with a roly poly bat-faced girl? How did he end up in a strange world (maybe it is the third world) without currency?
Actually, Wiki, the only part I didn't question was the chorus, because I figured that if you'll be my bodyguard then I'll be your long lost pal. I can call you Betty, and Betty, when you call me, you can call me Al.
I don't even know what this post is about anymore, but here is the video:
Sunday, 23 March 2008
Thursday, 13 March 2008
Horatio Caine: The new Chuck Norris?
Lately, I have become a little obsessed with CSI: Miami. I know, I know, I know, I know- that is a completely lame-o thing to say. But, what I am going to say next is even more lame than the fact that I like CSI: Miami (by and far nationally known as the CSI show with the least depth and with the most ridiculous plot lines), I love love love the character Horatio Caine.
Yes, Horatio Caine is the over-dramatic, not handsome (unless you like that sort of thing), redheaded (in Miami? How does he not have a sunburn all the time?), sunglass sporting, catch-phrase spouting, crime scene investigator. He is the head of his operation and does a mighty fine job.
Since I have started watching CSI: Miami (on A&E-- I don't watch new episodes; I prefer to watch reruns out of order so I can piece together the puzzle that is the drama of this show) I have come to the conclusion that Horatio Caine is the new Chuck Norris.
For starters, we need a replacement Chuck Norris. It has come to the point in time where drop kicking everything is starting to get old. Yes, I love the Chuck Norris anecdotes that are out there on the world wide web, but what we truly need is fresh meat. I nominate Horatio Caine, or H, as I fondly refer to him as, to step up to the plate. (H doesn't step up to the plate, actually, the plate steps up to him).
Horatio has what it takes to be the next Chuck Norris phenomena. He is dramatic. He wears sunglasses. He is so intimidating that he can say something like "See you later.... alligator" and make your hair curl. He stands on the top of buildings to survey the crime scene. He flies to Rio to avenge his brother and wife when the need arises.
Not only does he have intimidation down pat, he has a team of followers who are willing to support him on his journey of being the most redheaded, most dramatic CSI in the history of CSIs.
Finally, Chuck Norris is a redhead, so it only natural for him to be replaced by another redhead. It just makes sense. I wouldn't replace an apple with an orange, ya know?
In case you still weren't sure if Horatio Caine could be the new Chuck Norris, here are a few H facts for you to nibble on (mostly courtesy of my friend Heidi- a secret Horatio Caine impersonator- although yours truly did indeed come up with the last one).
In conclusion, if you are reading this and you have no idea what I am talking about, feast your eyes on the ultimate montage of Horatio Caine-isms:
And if you still aren't convinced, check out the sunglasses reel:
I think I made my point. 'Nuff said.
Yes, Horatio Caine is the over-dramatic, not handsome (unless you like that sort of thing), redheaded (in Miami? How does he not have a sunburn all the time?), sunglass sporting, catch-phrase spouting, crime scene investigator. He is the head of his operation and does a mighty fine job.
Since I have started watching CSI: Miami (on A&E-- I don't watch new episodes; I prefer to watch reruns out of order so I can piece together the puzzle that is the drama of this show) I have come to the conclusion that Horatio Caine is the new Chuck Norris.
For starters, we need a replacement Chuck Norris. It has come to the point in time where drop kicking everything is starting to get old. Yes, I love the Chuck Norris anecdotes that are out there on the world wide web, but what we truly need is fresh meat. I nominate Horatio Caine, or H, as I fondly refer to him as, to step up to the plate. (H doesn't step up to the plate, actually, the plate steps up to him).
Horatio has what it takes to be the next Chuck Norris phenomena. He is dramatic. He wears sunglasses. He is so intimidating that he can say something like "See you later.... alligator" and make your hair curl. He stands on the top of buildings to survey the crime scene. He flies to Rio to avenge his brother and wife when the need arises.
Not only does he have intimidation down pat, he has a team of followers who are willing to support him on his journey of being the most redheaded, most dramatic CSI in the history of CSIs.
Finally, Chuck Norris is a redhead, so it only natural for him to be replaced by another redhead. It just makes sense. I wouldn't replace an apple with an orange, ya know?
In case you still weren't sure if Horatio Caine could be the new Chuck Norris, here are a few H facts for you to nibble on (mostly courtesy of my friend Heidi- a secret Horatio Caine impersonator- although yours truly did indeed come up with the last one).
- There is no control button on Horatio Caine's computer. Horatio Caine is ALWAYS in control.
- Horatio Caine has destroyed the periodic table because he only recognizes the element of surprise.
- Horatio Caine doesn't listen to music. Music listens to Horatio Caine.
In conclusion, if you are reading this and you have no idea what I am talking about, feast your eyes on the ultimate montage of Horatio Caine-isms:
And if you still aren't convinced, check out the sunglasses reel:
I think I made my point. 'Nuff said.
Sunday, 2 March 2008
Why trying to meet a guy in Boston is like being on Rock of Love
Those of you who knew VH1 when it was still "Video Hits One" or even when it was referred to as "Music First" would be surprised to know it is now the place where washed up celebs go to star in their own reality TV shows. I'm not exaggerating. I watched VH1 for a few hours yesterday and did not see a single video hit. Not a one. I did, however, see Scott Baio and the actor who played Peter from the Brady Bunch.
Anyway, while I was watching what turned into a VH1 marathon session, I began to come to a few conclusions as to why the dating scene in Boston is so messed up. Why? All of the guys in Boston seem to think they are participating in the VH1 reality program Rock of Love.
Oh, you've never seen Rock of Love? Let me fill you in on the deets. It is basically a rock music inspired version of The Bachelor with Bret Michaels as the bachelor and a lot of girls all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed vying for the part of his future girlfriend. Instead of roses, at the end of every episode he hands out back stage passes and says "Will you stay here and continue to rock my world?" (Some of you may ask, 'who is Bret Michaels?' And although it has been posed 'Does anyone really know Bret Michaels?' the easy answer is that he is the former lead vocalist of the band Poison).
Here is how the Boston bar scene is like any episode of Rock of Love:
1. The Chase (or lack thereof). The guys just have to sit back and relax while the girls come to them. In any given bar in Boston on a Friday night, you will witness this phenomena. Like on Rock of Love, it doesn't matter what you look like if you are male- you could be a long locked, long lashed, bandanna wearing former lead singer of a band that I had to wikipedia to remember- and still have skinny girls in sparkly tops lined up in the hopes of getting your number.
2. The Competition. You might think talent shows and high kick competitions are limited to reality TV dating programs, but you are wrong. Have you heard of Karaoke night? What about dance-offs? Even twirling and mom-dancing aren't innocent moves. These are all ways the young ladies try to hook the young gentlemen. In real life, though, just as in TV, you need not be the best singer or the nicest person to win a date. I thought for surezies that Inna was toast because she was "rude to [my guest] Joan, and that is just disrespectful" but in the end Bret Michaels kept her on anyway.
3. The Drama. We like to blame the producers of the aforementioned reality TV show for keeping the drama queens on the program week after week after week. I mean, it does give us something to discuss the next morning at the water cooler if the "roller coaster of drama" is kept on even after Bret mislead us by saying "I like crazy girls, but this girl might be too crazy even for me." Come on. It's not the producers who want to keep Kristy Joe on the show, it is Bret Michaels himself. Bret, you wear mascara and I am pretty sure you make extra cash by being a hair model for Pantene, but I know your type. I'm almost a hundred percent wiki-certain that you used to blow up cars on stages for a living so I am confident that the fact Kristy Joe is a little melodramatic won't cramp your style. Boston men like drama, too. They aren't going to choose the wallflowers or the shrinking violets. No no no. They are going to choose the tall brunette who is having fun dancing with every guy while simultaneously looking mysterious with smoky eyes and choreographed hair flips... even though her ridiculously long nails reek of high maintenance and she didn't tip the bartender because he did not shake her cocktail with the proper amount of 'oompf.'
4. The Final Decision. That's as serious as it sounds. We all witnessed Bret this past week as he had to make the hard choice on who to send away. To quote Mr. Michaels himself: "I now need to shut down, go to my room, be alone, and think about this. Because somebody is going home." It is as though he is surprised he has to let someone go and he can't have them all "stay here and continue to rock [his] world." In Boston, most guys are shocked at the end of the night when the lights come on, the music turns off, and they are faced with sweaty girls and their surprisingly poor complexions with whom they have been flirting all night and now they have to decide whose number to ask for.
All in all, I'd say Rock of Love and the Boston bar scene are spitting images of each other. In either 4 years or 20 minutes from now, the whole concept of "I like you, you like me, let's get coffee" is going to become obsolete. Instead, we will be forced to mingle amongst our peers while being judged from afar on the length of our hair, the amount of sparkle in our eyes, and whether or not we can sing the Star Spangled Banner without using a cheat sheet. Only the lucky few will be plucked from the throngs to live in the promised land with Bret Michaels, where we will continue to rock his world.
Anyway, while I was watching what turned into a VH1 marathon session, I began to come to a few conclusions as to why the dating scene in Boston is so messed up. Why? All of the guys in Boston seem to think they are participating in the VH1 reality program Rock of Love.
Oh, you've never seen Rock of Love? Let me fill you in on the deets. It is basically a rock music inspired version of The Bachelor with Bret Michaels as the bachelor and a lot of girls all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed vying for the part of his future girlfriend. Instead of roses, at the end of every episode he hands out back stage passes and says "Will you stay here and continue to rock my world?" (Some of you may ask, 'who is Bret Michaels?' And although it has been posed 'Does anyone really know Bret Michaels?' the easy answer is that he is the former lead vocalist of the band Poison).
Here is how the Boston bar scene is like any episode of Rock of Love:
1. The Chase (or lack thereof). The guys just have to sit back and relax while the girls come to them. In any given bar in Boston on a Friday night, you will witness this phenomena. Like on Rock of Love, it doesn't matter what you look like if you are male- you could be a long locked, long lashed, bandanna wearing former lead singer of a band that I had to wikipedia to remember- and still have skinny girls in sparkly tops lined up in the hopes of getting your number.
2. The Competition. You might think talent shows and high kick competitions are limited to reality TV dating programs, but you are wrong. Have you heard of Karaoke night? What about dance-offs? Even twirling and mom-dancing aren't innocent moves. These are all ways the young ladies try to hook the young gentlemen. In real life, though, just as in TV, you need not be the best singer or the nicest person to win a date. I thought for surezies that Inna was toast because she was "rude to [my guest] Joan, and that is just disrespectful" but in the end Bret Michaels kept her on anyway.
3. The Drama. We like to blame the producers of the aforementioned reality TV show for keeping the drama queens on the program week after week after week. I mean, it does give us something to discuss the next morning at the water cooler if the "roller coaster of drama" is kept on even after Bret mislead us by saying "I like crazy girls, but this girl might be too crazy even for me." Come on. It's not the producers who want to keep Kristy Joe on the show, it is Bret Michaels himself. Bret, you wear mascara and I am pretty sure you make extra cash by being a hair model for Pantene, but I know your type. I'm almost a hundred percent wiki-certain that you used to blow up cars on stages for a living so I am confident that the fact Kristy Joe is a little melodramatic won't cramp your style. Boston men like drama, too. They aren't going to choose the wallflowers or the shrinking violets. No no no. They are going to choose the tall brunette who is having fun dancing with every guy while simultaneously looking mysterious with smoky eyes and choreographed hair flips... even though her ridiculously long nails reek of high maintenance and she didn't tip the bartender because he did not shake her cocktail with the proper amount of 'oompf.'
4. The Final Decision. That's as serious as it sounds. We all witnessed Bret this past week as he had to make the hard choice on who to send away. To quote Mr. Michaels himself: "I now need to shut down, go to my room, be alone, and think about this. Because somebody is going home." It is as though he is surprised he has to let someone go and he can't have them all "stay here and continue to rock [his] world." In Boston, most guys are shocked at the end of the night when the lights come on, the music turns off, and they are faced with sweaty girls and their surprisingly poor complexions with whom they have been flirting all night and now they have to decide whose number to ask for.
All in all, I'd say Rock of Love and the Boston bar scene are spitting images of each other. In either 4 years or 20 minutes from now, the whole concept of "I like you, you like me, let's get coffee" is going to become obsolete. Instead, we will be forced to mingle amongst our peers while being judged from afar on the length of our hair, the amount of sparkle in our eyes, and whether or not we can sing the Star Spangled Banner without using a cheat sheet. Only the lucky few will be plucked from the throngs to live in the promised land with Bret Michaels, where we will continue to rock his world.
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