The Big Picture

Some people pay incredible attention to detail, have an awesome memory, and are generally observant of the world around them. The rest of the population are still looking for their keys.

I'm in that latter category and I like to call it living in "The Big Picture". My attention to detail and observation skills are awful, and my memory is a crapshoot. But the difference between me and say, a dementia patient, is that I could see everything differently if I wanted to. If I spent energy trying to process my surroundings more efficiently, I could be freakin' Rain Man. We all have it in us. But having lived this way for almost 23 years, I'd say it's workin' for me!

Detail is overrated. Being excessively observant of my surroundings is a waste; I focus on the information that I need at any given moment and simply work with that. And while it would be super nice and sentimental to remember detailed sense memories from age 4, I remember enough. And when I need it, my short-term memory and rote memorization skills are bangin'.

It is a wonder, though, how I pulled a 3.9 GPA in college, but don't notice a thing when my bff Amanda walks in with an entirely different hair color. I wish I could tell you the dye job was only a shade or two lighter, but I'm almost certain she switched from brunette to blonde one time. She might as well have turned into Michelle Obama. I didn't notice. In my defense, that was a few years ago and while I still suck at being observant, I'd like to think I've evolved enough to notice something as drastic as that.

And if I haven't, turns out I'm not alone. Here's a real psychological study and I'd like to use it as justification for the next time I miss some giant, conspicuous, embarrassingly-obvious detail in my environment:

Pentatonix

The third season of The Sing-Off is over and - thank God - the best group came out victorious. The judges (and America) got it right. Even in a season sprinkled with the most vocal talent yet, Pentatonix consistently showed up their competition. This acapella group from small-town Texas is just unstoppable, and I can't say enough about their performances. They're five people who create the sound of twenty. A quintet on a bare stage with nothing but their voices, and what comes out sounds like a bonafide track.

The lead and back-up vocals are shared by the group's original three members: Scott, Kirstie and Mitch. They're insanely talented. For most performances, Scott's generally the frontman. He's sexy as hell (fingers crossed he's not gay), made sexier by his pitch-perfect voice. Kirstie and Mitch grab time in the spotlight when the song calls for it, but shine even in the background. Their blend is gorgeous. And I expect to be engaged to Scott any day now ------->

Then there's the two newest members who make up the rhythm & bass section: Kevin and Avi. I'm convinced they're not real. Judge Shawn Stockman deemed them "Meat" and "Potatoes", praising them on being the heart of every track and creating so much depth. Avi's speaking voice is reminiscent of Barry White, which makes him an insane bass. And Kevin does some of the best beatboxing I've ever witnessed in my life. So when these two talented guys lay the groundwork beneath the layered harmonies of the other three - they're no competition. Their arrangements every week were risky and unique. They showcased everyone's talents and kept everyone on the edge of their seats.

In my opinion, here are their top four performances (in order):

4) "ET" - Katy Perry

 

3) "Video Killed The Radio Star" - The Buggles

2) "Dog Days Are Over" - Florence & The Machine

1) "Love Lockdown" - Kanye West

The Crushes of Yesteryear

Somehow it's been almost 12 years since the glorious age of the 90's came to a close. Boy bands and candy pop have been replaced by techno beats and hip hop. And ever since Edward Cullen made sparkly pale skin appealing and Justin induced a nationwide case of Bieber Fever, there are a few boys that have been left in the dust.

Here are some of the crushes you forgot you had back in the 90's:

1) Devon Sawa - He was the boy with the perfectly cow-licked blonde head. He was the swoon-inducing quarterback in Little Giants that made even the Icebox nervous. He was one of the Wormers in Now & Then, who got his clothes stolen while skinny-dipping but made up with Christina Ricci over a Classic Coke and a kiss. And lest we forget CASPER! He was in about 4 minutes of the movie as the human version of the Friendly Ghost. But there he was dancing with Ricci again, 2 feet off the ground, whispering "Can I keep you?" Yes, Devon, you may.

2) JTT - Jonathan Taylor Thomas's name was taking up too much room on the covers of Tiger Beat, BOP and J14. So someone shortened it and everyone jumped on board. No one could deny how precious this kid was. He was in a few Disney movies like Tom and Huck and Man of the House (picture the rain dance to "Everybody Dance Now"). Oh, and a little indie flick called Lion King as SIMBA. Insane. Then, for good measure, he played Tim "the Tool Man"'s middle son for like 7 years... the perfect complement to Mark, who got gangly and goth, and Brad, who just stayed a blonde jock the whole show.

3) Matthew Lawrence - He was pretty adorable in Mrs. Doubtfire, but when he showed up on Boy Meets World, I was glued to the TV. This show had already solidified itself in the 90's Hall of Fame, but add on this cute blonde guy as a roommate? I'm sold. Middle child syndrome be gone; this kid far outshone his celebrity brothers. Sense of humor doesn't hurt.


4) Your Choice of Boy Band Member - This one was a toss-up. Once you chose your allegiances, you never faltered:

N*Sync - You would never admit it at the time, but if you were an N*Sync fan you had far less choices to drool over. Only JC or Justin, really. The other three were back-up and they knew it. Kudos to you if you picked Timberlake in that 50/50 toss-up because now he's a billionaire and no one's seen JC since the millenium hit. Granted they did put out some timeless pop hits and the entire "No Strings Attached" album is pure gold.   

Backstreet Boys - If you were on my team and thought Backstreet won out, congratulations. Not only were you correct then, but JT left N*Sync in the dust years ago and BSB is still touring / recording today. Not to mention they've all gotten even sexier over time. At the height of the pop craze, BSB was like the appetizer sampler at Applebee's - something there for everyone. Nick was fun-loving, blonde and got to say "Am I sexual?" in their first hit. AJ was the tattooed and dangerous one. Brian was goofy and I was certain we'd be engaged by the time middle school was out. He and his jawline were plastered all over my bedroom walls. Kevin was the tall, dark and brooding one. And no one liked Howie.  

 

98 Degrees - Then there were the wayward 98 Degrees fans. I would poke fun here, but if I'm being honest - I'd still marry Nick Lachey in a second. I wouldn't throw Jeff outta bed either. In terms of popularity, though, I can't (and never could) name all four. 

Hanson - There's no excuse for this. Their hair alone! If approached from behind, they might've been mistaken as Britney, Christina & Jessica. Somehow these Oklahoma-raised girls boys burst onto the scene with "MmmBop" and they've still got an incredibly loyal fan base today. It's a good thing they stuck around - they've actually evolved to an impressive level of talent and with a good pair of shears, they emerged as super handsome.

5) Leonardo DiCaprio -  In 1997, every girl was suddenly dying to go hang off the edge of a cruise liner in the hopes of Leo coming to her rescue. He came out of nowhere and romanced Kate Winslet straight into the Atlantic Ocean. And he played Romeo to Claire Danes's Juliet. Not even iambic pentameter could get in the way of his charm. Don't tell me you didn't have posters of him up. You did.

6) Uncle Jesse - I don't know about your past experiences, but he's certainly the first Greek mullet-bearing motorcycle-riding Elvis-loving womanizer that I've ever been obsessed with. I literally couldn't take my eyes off him for eight seasons of Full House. And he's only gotten better with age.

Camp: A Memoir

It’s the summer of 2011 and I decide that a 2-month overnight summer camp is the perfect next adventure for me. A brand new experience, completely out of my comfort zone. And I think “This’ll take some getting used to, but hey! I know kids. I’ve subbed, I’ve...... had siblings, I’m good to go.”

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

The first week was just staff. About 100 people – mostly counselors, some head staff and some other randos. You’d think “staff week” would be fun! Icebreakers, trying out the different activities, running around, getting cabins decorated. No, not really. There were some icebreakers, sure. But they were few and far between, scattered between 6 full days of lecture-style orientation sessions where they talked and we listened. The seating provided was not, of course, a series of plush sofas, but instead a small set of stone bleachers that fit roughly half the staff. So either your back hurt or your back hurt really badly.

 But I was determined to have a good experience. I had already prepared myself to get adjusted slowly and meet new people and learn the laws of the land. A series of rules were repeated six to seven hundred times over that first week. Ignorance is bliss, and I was blissfully ignorant to the fact that not many other camps were as strict and structured as ours. I’ll get to the rules and pet peeves in a bit, but first.... the pick-up.

One of my co-counselors Alysha (otherwise known as Lysh) and I were a part of a 30-person group going to New York to pick up about a third of the campers. For whatever reason – either my teaching experience or God's desire to test me – I was assigned 4B. This bunk would later become infamous. Fourteen 13-year-old girls and five counselors in one room. Holy hell.

So we slept over on a hard carpetless floor in a tiny nursery school owned by the camp. Super uncomfortable, as you would imagine. At least they bought us a full dinner out, which (without exaggeration) must’ve come out to about a thousand bucks. I would later earn slightly more than that for my services to the camp. (Don’t even get me started. We haven’t even scratched the surface...) The next day, I stood dutifully in the hot summer sun waiting for my girls to arrive, singing about how exciting 4B is and holding up a homemade sign. The other counselors were quickly surrounded by their campers as they began to arrive, so I started to wonder: “Where are my girls?” I would later learn that all of them are best friends forever and totally self-absorbed and were 5-year-veterans at this camp, so they met for breakfast at a nearby diner and didn’t think it necessary to show up until the buses were about to pull out. A few things I noticed right off the bat: They’re identical. They’re all Jewish. They’re all wearing the exact same thing – a Sweet Lips tank top with a bandaux over it, and tight rolled-up shorts. I had no idea what any of those things were now, let alone at age thirteen. I greeted them with the appropriate enthusiasm and excitement about beginning our summer together, and they responded by giving Twizzlers blow-jobs. I shit you not.

I will now summarize the worst, most infuriating, labor-intensive, frustrating parts of my summer .... and a few good stuff.

BEST:

• Met some really nice people and made a lot of great friends for the summer that unfortunately all live in other countries
• Lived out of my comfort zone and pushed my limits
• Free meals and free ice cream every single night
• Fun activities
• Free trip to Canada
• Color War and Color Olympics (Orange Egyptians and the Gold Past both won!)
• Running the bungee trampolines
• Awesome tan

WORST:

•  Rule of Three – No camper may ever be by themselves. Ever. No camper may ever be with just one other counselor. At ALL times, at least two counselors are on duty. If you need to take a kid somewhere, you need to bring another counselor or a second kid. I called the second kid my “plus one”, which is my feeble, witty attempt to coax a stubborn pubescent girl to follow her friend and I somewhere away from her iPod and make-up. For example, if a kid needs a Band-Aid, I am required to not say “Suck it up”, and instead bring a random perfectly-uninjured child to the nurse with us. Daily struggle.

•  Peanut Free Zone – The whole camp was peanut-free. No serving peanuts. No eating peanuts. No talking about peanuts. No thinking about what a peanut used to look or taste like. It literally took me a full month after camp to eat a Reese’s without feeling guilty.

•  Locked Up – The following items were under lock-and-key at all times: razors, hair dryers, sports equipment, straighteners, scissors. Turns out thirteen-year-olds need all of these things at frequent intervals throughout the day. So we’d need to stop what we were doing, answer their every beckoned call, and unlock / relock the bins for them. Quickly became a hair-pulling nuisance.

•  Mealtime – I could write a novel the size of War & Peace about mealtimes at camp, but I’ll try to spare you. Essentially the way the camp directors see it, these kids are used to being given everything they ask on a silver platter. Their parents are paying $10,000 to send them away so we’d better keep that trend alive. This boiled down to me catering to 14 whiny pubescent girls and their hearts’ every desire. Three times a day. Which made me want to stab myself in the eye with the nearest spork. These girls would not eat what was provided for them, nor did they have any respect for their counselors’ desire to sit down and eat. If we were serving them escargot and lima beans, I’d understand a bit of hesitation on their part. But we were giving them chicken nuggets, pizza, pasta, and desserts. I’d set up three long tables of forks, plates, spoons, cups and family-style food platters, then escape to the salad bar. Just as I’d return to my seat and bring the fork to my mouth, there’d be a tap on the shoulder and an E-Z-Mac shoved into my face.  (This was a cue to go stand in line at the microwave for 15 minutes waiting and watching their processed pasta spin in circles.) Or I’d get a barrage of requests to make them grilled cheeses, which I’d spend 20 minutes making from scratch. Never mind the fact that the entire dining hall was half the size it needed to be, so the place was like Macy’s on Christmas Eve every day.

•  The Infirmary – This is the fancy name for the nurse’s office. And children of every age, race and gender thought they were dying of cancer. I’d get a request every ten minutes from one of my girls. “I’ve got sun burn. I need lotion.” “I scratched my mosquito bite ‘til it bled.” “My ear hurts; I think I’m dying.” “I was screaming all yesterday and now my throat huuuuuurts.” “I think my eyelashes are growing too fast.” Eff you all. No, really. I took kids every single day for seven weeks and in restrospect, only needed to go twice. One girl had a fever one day and another got a bee sting. Done and done. The rest must've just seen Ferris Bueller one too many times.

• Days and Nights Off – You’d think this would be under the “good” list, but you’d be sorely mistaken. I learned quickly not to look forward to these times. It helped to get time away from the girls, but there was nowhere to go. On nights off, you could either: 1) drive or hitch a ride to the nearest ice cream stand or gas station, or 2) go hang out in the “staff lounge” which was a rickety old unkempt cabin that was infested with mice and was decorated with nothing more than two bedbug-ridden couches and an empty shelf. And days off were given to you assuming you had money to make your day interesting. We’d all carpool to Scranton where we’d have 28 hours on our own to do anything we wanted. Which would be fun if there was anything to do within a 15-mile radius. For me, this day off was Thursday and it was spent in this order: 1) Pretend to have fun at a bar, 2) Pitch in $20 to sleep on a dirty hotel floor in a room with 12 other drunken half-naked people because the other room we reserved is where the couples’ sex is taking place. 3) Wake up and wander around Scranton buying food and using computers at the local library and reading in the grass. You know... livin' the dream. And that's just a general itinerary. There were lots of specifics I won't go into including the night I got stranded on the side of a mountain with two flat tires. Or the night five counselors got fired for underage drinking and we had to hide from townies who were trying to beat us up for getting their bar shut down by the Control Board.

•  Living in the Bunk – I’ve tried to explain these creatures and I can’t. You’d had to have lived it. There were fourteen of them and they were all insane, ADHD, sex-crazed, potty-mouthed, dirty naked animals. None of those descriptors are a stretch. They had limitless energy except when I had to get them all out of bed in the morning, which took all my patience and at least 30 minutes of my time. They spoke in strings of obscene, age-inappropriate slang that generally came out of hookers’ mouths. All three toilets in the bathroom were stained at all times with various types of bodily secretions, as well as a fair amount of Justin Bieber posters. The cabin floor was covered entirely by wet towels growing bacteria and other miscellaneous items that no one will claim. And then there’s the nudity. If the girls were in the cabin and the door was at least half-closed, they were naked. Full-frontal, unabashed nudity as they danced and pranced and gossiped and procrastinated dressing. I don’t have a problem with nudity, per se, but your clothes are sitting right next to you on the bed and I don’t need to know exactly what each of your va-jay-jays look like. I don’t.

• Trip Days - Every Tuesday was Trip Day. It was a time to get away from camp, which was fun! ...If you were a camper. Usually we'd go to a theme park like Dorney or Hershey and once we went shopping at outlets. For counselors, trip days included the following: 1) following your assigned small group of girls around and doing everything they want to do and nothing you want to do, 2) being their personal accountant by manually keeping track on a piece of paper how much cash they started with, at what increments they spent it, if they were given extra cash at any point, and how much each individual girl is left with, and 3) driving 1-3 hours there and back on a school bus full of screaming banshees.

While I didn’t exaggerate any of that, I did focus on the bad aspects of the summer in my lengthy summary. So, surprisingly enough, I do not regret my decision to be a counselor. I had a brand-new, boundary-pushing experience. I did what I set out to do, had some unforgettable moments along the way, and met a lot of really great friends. Hell, even with the worst-behaved bunk at camp, I did grow to care for almost all the girls after spending so much time with them. They were really fun and sweet one-on-one, but together they were like the Power Rangers who all combined to make one big PMS-ing robot monster. And even though I only received roughly $1300 for the whole infuriating, back-breaking summer, I don’t regret it. Gave me a lifetime's worth of memories and stories.

Will I be returning next summer? Nope.

I Need Earmuffs

Has anyone heard what's on the radio recently? I have two little sisters - 11 years old - and the lyrics that are floating into their ears and coming out of their mouths are bananas. It's got me thinking about what kind of music I was raised on. Love has always been a theme, but either I was too naive (absolutely true) or the top 40 really weren't that scandalous.

We'll be hanging out now and my sister will start spouting off the latest trashy pop hit. Not that "Sexy and I Know It" isn't appropriate for the family dinner table....

Just for a little retrospective, here's a sample through the decades:

Someday when I'm awfully low
When the world is cold
I will feel a glow just thinking of you
and the way you look tonight   
- Frank Sinatra, 1964

Keep smiling, keep shining
Knowing you can always count on me, for sure
That's what friends are for
In good times, in bad times
I'll be on your side forever more
Oh, that's what friends are for   
- Dionne Warwick, 1986

Mmm bop, ba duba dop
Ba doo bop, duba dop ba
Doo bop, ba duba dop, ba doo
Yeah yeah                                
- Hanson, 1997

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back
I'm talking pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy
- Ke$ha with a dollar sign, 2009


To be honest, Ke$ha's lyrics really aren't a fair representation of our current era of music. No, the rest is much worse. Don't make me pull out Chris Brown or some Kanye. If it isn't explicit sexual lyrics, it's some Auto-Tuned pop song from a girl wearing too much glitter and not enough bra. At least music videos have all but disappeared from MTV or else my Granny would be getting an eyeful and an earful.

Growing up, the worst I remember hearing was like "2 Become 1" by the Spice Girls. (Blissfully unaware of what was going on there.) At 11 years old, I was innocently dancing around my living room singing "Bye Bye Bye" into a hairbrush. Now I really think I need to just pop some earmuffs on my sisters until they turn 18. It's the only way. Thank God for the Taylor Swifts and the Adeles of the world.

What Is She Wearing?!

Every decade has had its fair share of ridiculous fads. Granted, I've only been alive for two of them. But all I needed was an old photo of my mom in bedazzled bell-bottoms and I got the gist.

Unfortunately whatever decade we're currently in is no exception. I look around all the time and wonder where these fashion fads came from and how much longer I'll need to endure the sight of them. Here are the current trends I just can't get behind:

Summertime Uggs - When these little furry boots appeared on the fashion scene, I thought "What a nice practical boot for the winter. Makes sense." Then all of a sudden, chicks started wearing them almost exclusively in the summer. Since when have you ever sunbathed poolside on a hot summer day with sheepskin hugging your feet? The sheer ridiculousness of Eskimo boots in July is one thing. Add on the image of Uggs with Daisy Dukes, spaghetti straps, and sunglasses. I can't....


Expensive Ass Purses - I'm biased to begin with cause I dislike toting a purse around. Obviously it's practical and yes, they look good with outfits. Personally, I'd so much rather stuff my keys, phone & a twenty in my jeans pocket and be on my way. But the Second Amendment recognizes the right to bear arms, so I'll acknowledge a woman's right to bear a purse. The issue is the insane price of these bags. Splurging on a $45 bag from Target and using it for a couple years.... totally cool. Buying seventeen $250 bags in one month because they were "calling out to you"..... not so cool. Also, you don't get bonus points for brand names. That Coach clutch doesn't up your social status any more than your Aeropostale tee did in 5th grade.

Orange Spray Tans- I could talk about this one all day. When did Oompa Loompas become sexy? Personally I don't condone artificial tanning at all. If a teenager wants to not look like a polar bear on her prom night... fine. In general though, we'd all be better off if we forwent the skin cancer. The reason Snooki is popular is not because her neon orange skin and hair pouf remind everyone of the understated grace of icons past. It's because no one can look away from a trainwreck. You've gotta be happy in your own skin. Literally.

Clothes That Don't Fit - Ill-fitting clothes are ubiquitous. And the two extremes are happening at the same time: tight vs. super baggy. Appropriately-sized outfits have apparently become the minority. It's either: 1) a middle-aged mom sporting some major plumber's crack and a muffin top in jeans that belong on her prepubescent daughter, or 2) a potato sack top and MC Hammer gaucho pants a la Mary-Kate Olsen. I think we'd all look a little snazzier as a whole if we wore stuff that fit and complemented our bodies. Makes sense.


Tights as Pants - When in public, I shouldn't know the color & style of your underwear. Period. If you're wearing a cute dress and want to throw on some Spandex underneath to complete the look... you do it. But if you're showing up at a sorority party in a belted T-shirt masquerading as a tube dress, with pantyhose to boot, I can see. your. ass. It's just common sense. Leave something to the imagination. Try some skinny jeans, for discretion's sake.

Crocs - "But they're comfortable!" shout the rubber clog's avid supporters. I hear 'ya, and trust me - I'm as big a fan of comfort as the next girl. But I'm relatively sure encasing your feet in TemperPedic pillows would be comfortable too. Ooo... how about little mini bean bags for your feet?! Sometimes we have to pick style over practicality. So unless you're going clamming, you don't need to be wearing Crocs. The one exception here are kids under the age of, say... ten. They're playing hide-and-seek tag at recess and showing off the Crocs that match their adorable overalls. You're meeting friends for dinner and sporting neon Crocs with the business slacks you wore to work. Not the same.

The Show You Should Be Watching

So for most of my life, I've had two favorite TV shows: Friends and Seinfeld. And for a while, it was just me jumping back and forth between Central Perk and Monk's Coffee Shop.

Then a new contender entered the ring. Parks & Recreation. It's only in it's fourth season, but it's the greatest thing I've ever seen. There isn't a weak link in this cast. The writing is brilliant and I laugh out loud at every episode without fail.

So here are my top ten moments. I dare you not to fall in love.
 1)

 

Leslie Knope, head of the Parks & Rec department. Lovably neurotic.

2)

The entire department goes on a camping trip & ends up at a sketchy colonial inn called "The Quiet Corn".

3)

    Jean Ralphio. Has no idea what a tool he is. Here he is trying to rap but can't quite get 'em to end right.

4)

The whole department decides to kick back at the sketchy Snakehole Lounge and all end up drunk in their own special ways.

5)

April & Andy are the best couple ever. April - deadpan, sarcastic and dry. Andy - lovable, well-intentioned, slow.

6)

 Ann is one of the only rational employees in the P&R Dept. She can tell a bad snack when she sees one. Leslie Knope, not so much.

7)

  Tom & Jean Ralphio invested their entire life savings in a business called Entertainment 720. After having no business plan or product and going bankrupt in a matter of weeks, they throw one final party with whatever money they have left. This is their legacy.

8)

  Leslie's various accents. They come out every now and then, regardless of whether she's been drinking.

9)

 To win Ron back from the clutches of his crazy ex-wife & mother, Leslie agrees to take shots of the Swanson family blend of grain alcohol. This is the messy drunken result.

10)

 The infamous Tom Haverford face. Used to share barely-suppressed glee with the viewers.
  Then once, Leslie tries to take a crack at it: