Gotta Have Some TLC

One of my guilty pleasures is television. And you might be saying, "That's not a guilty pleasure. Everyone loves TV! You idiot." First of all, watch your tone. Secondly, I would agree for the most part. The vast majority of the U.S. population could name more members of Jersey Shore than of President Obama's administration. But I can't say I don't feel slightly guilty (or lazy) when a TV reference comes up in conversation and I hear someone go, "Oh, I don't own a television. But I did finish three novels this week in between Habitat for Humanity projects." At which point, I usually stew in self-pity for a few seconds, then remember Parks and Recreation is on in three minutes and park it in front of the nearest TV with a Wawa shortie.

Recently though, I've been addicted to TLC. Every time I turn it on, whatever I was doing is put on the back burner. It's the ultimate procrastination station, which makes me think TLC probably stands for Too Little Completed. I blame Discovery for putting four of the most addictive shows ever on one channel. Alright, maybe not addictive... but you can't say you don't get sucked in, too.

What Not To Wear -  When I'm in a fashion dilemma, all I need to ask myself is WWSCD (What Would Stacy and Clinton Do?) They literally have all the answers. And they're funny as hell. I never get tired of watching them do their magic. Step 1: Ambush some middle-aged cat lady on the street and force her to watch hideous footage of herself. Step 2: Throw out her entire collection of polyester jackets, wool turtlenecks and pleated tapered pants. Step 3: Drop her off at the nearest H&M and watch her kick and scream about having to spend $5000 on anything she wants. Step 4: Return everything she bought. Buy her the wardrobe of Jennifer Aniston. Step 5: Cut her hair against her wishes, show her a makeup regimen she'll never use again, and show her off like a pageant queen. I'm telling you... whoever came up with this formula is a genius. I've learned a lot in between Stacy and Clinton's sarcastic remarks and singular conversations ("You can pair a great neutral pant with a classy wedge and a three-quarter sleeve.")

19 Kids and Counting - I'm torn between judgement and acceptance. Let's take a look at the arguments: Did one woman deliver 19 babies? Indeed, she did. However, they're all freakishly healthy and genetically perfect. Does this woman teach her kids that evolution doesn't exist and dinosaurs rode in on Noah's Ark? ......Yes. But these kids are as grateful, polite, kind-hearted and well-behaved as baby Jesus himself. So I say the lesson here, as in Sister Wives, is to look past the differences in belief and lifestyle, and see people as they are. Who am I to judge how people live their life? If you can find a way to financially support a family of 21 and build a giant house from the ground up, more power to ya. And to you, Sister Wives, I raise my glass. I have not the faintest idea why you've decided to share your husband with a handful of other chicks, but you know what? You do it. Everyone deserves to be happy!

Little People, Big World - Okay, let's get serious here. While this show's concept is entertaining - a couple of hard-working little people running an Oregon farm - the main reason why I tune in is the oldest and tallest member of the family, Jeremy. I know I'm a cradle robber and I'll never meet him, but he's gorgeous and that's all there is to it. Just one more reason to justify gluing my eyes to the TV screen.

Posts of Christmas Past

Before Facebook swallowed up MySpace and redefined our lives, there was an online outlet for every girl's inner-most thoughts: Xanga. From sophomore to senior year of high school, my friends and I would hang out, go home and write identical summaries of what we did, then comment on each other's like we weren't there. It was all in good fun, but when I left for college, I realized I had created an amazing chronicle of three years of my life. Let's take a walk down memory lane. Here are snapshots of my life around this time in December:

5 years ago - December 11, 2006

Wow it's been forev. I've been having a pretty good time.. I don't remember what i was talking about last time I wrote but Thanksgiving break was good and now I'm done classes for the semester. Three exams - one a day through Wednesday and then I'm goin home. I'm excited! I'm exempt from my Psych exam because I got A's on every test - which kicks ass - and I'm officially in Bonner. So I'm busy moving my shit and packing it to move out. Wonderful.

6 years ago - December 20, 2005

Just for kicks (or shits and giggles, if you're the overquoting movie type), go up to a college student and say "Hey, my school gets a whoooole week off! No school at all!". After several moments of condescending stares, you'll then be informed that after those pathetic nine days of boredom, you'll be back with your nose in a book while the rest of the college population is home free through January.

Whatever. I'm still psyched. I'm now going to give you the abridged version of what would surely be the longest entry of my life. I know you're all disappointed, but I just don't have the time. My little black book is full up with appointments to sleep and watch TV.

• Christmas is in 5 days and I've successfully bought two gifts. I know what you're saying... "There's not enough to go around, Jill." Well, I agree.
• Daria's tooth fell out and she was visited by the Tooth Fairy. Let me tell you... she was much less excited to get money under her pillow than I was at that age. She couldn't be bothered with it. Kids these days...
• I need a car. ASAP.
• My Senior Sem project is still in the early stages. Despite the fact that I present in less than a month. We'll see how it all comes together.
• Lily just threw up on my bedroom floor. As Amanda would say, "Magic!"
• I need to go to the gym again. I might be going with Perrin tonight....who knows?

7 years ago - December 22, 2004

Finally, winter break is here.
After a history presentation, physics test, Vector Day antics, and a visit to the dentist, I can finally relax. Until I begin my homework, which I have forced myself to put off until at least December 26th. Tonight the girls and I went out for some Chinese. After many a chicken platter, we stalked a group of boys in Starbucks who turned out to be pretty anti-social and unattractive. We explored O'Doodles, then walked down to Ted's house to interrupt his college apps process. He gave us a ride back, almost killing Katie along the way. Now I'm alone again and plan to do nothing but watch TV and sleep. Sound good?

8 years ago - December 22, 2003

Cant wait til xmas. cant wait til sunday. i could actually wait til work... but the entire xmas break overrules the right to mope about work. i hope the customers finally learn that all our pies and cakes are frozen and they don't come and we just get paid for sitting around and drawing santas and snagging bakery food when shes not looking.   

You'll Shoot Your Eye Out!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. The stockings are hung, the fake tree is lit, and the annual 24-hour marathon of A Christmas Story is poised to hit TBS. It's my favorite time of year, and it's gotten me thinking about my family's Christmas traditions growing up. It was always so magical and exciting; it's a wonder I didn't pee my pants more often. Although I'm sure Santa would not have passed judgement.

I would fall asleep listening for the sounds of hooves on the roof. Then my sister and I would wake up at the BUTTcrack of dawn and go join our older brothers, who were - of course - already awake. The sun wasn't up but why shouldn't we be? So we'd bide our time doing God-knows-what. Laughing, playing Nintendo, and pacing in anticipation of the magical hour - 8 AM. This was the time we were allowed to alert the media, ring the church bells, and .... yes, wake our parents. At 7:59 we would line up in age order and wait with bated breath for the eighth hour to strike. Mom and Dad's alarm clocks were rendered unnecessary; the cavalcade of our stampeding feet always did the trick.

As soon as we got the 'rents downstairs, it was time for Moses Masterpiece Theater. This was an adorably amateur skit written and performed each year by my older brothers. My sister would be roped in for cameos as needed, but I - being the baby and unable to remember lines or follow any type of direction - was always banished to the audience. After the curtain fell (no curtain) and roses were thrown on stage (no roses), the logical next step was to examine the presents.

Knowing their children's tendency to feel out gifts like Helen Keller reading Braille, my parents came up with a plan that was as ingenious as it was frustrating: color-coded labels. Even if one of us broke away and peeked under the tree ahead of schedule, we had no way of knowing which gifts were ours. It drove me up a wall. "I'm probably green this year. No, wait... I was green last year so I'm probably red. Except red is Tim's favorite color so maybe.....no..... wait, but what if..... aww, shit."

Eventually all was revealed and the gifts were doled out. And there was always a pile set aside from "Santa". Color me naive, but I genuinely thought these presents arrived separately from a fat bearded man whose sleigh was driven by a herd of flying deer. Why the hell wouldn't they be? Never mind the fact that his handwriting was suspiciously identical to my mother's.

Cue endless joy and merriment, mixed in with five loaves of my great-grandmother's Swedish Coffee Bread and a forest's worth of torn wrapping paper. I'd call that a pretty damn good way to spend a holiday with family. Over the years, the tradition has evolved. The setting and circumstances have changed but all the main characters remain the same. I feel extremely blessed and grateful and happy. If I was Santa, I would shake my belly like a bowl full of jelly. I might just, anyway.

Happy Festivus!

Happy Festivus! This fictional Seinfeld holiday involves erecting a steel pole instead of a tree and replacing childlike merriment with a tradition called the Airing of Grievances. Typically, telling everyone you love what's bothering you and in what ways they've disappointed you over the past year. Now, as a Christmas lover and overall good person, I won't go this far. But everyone's got a few things they could stand to get off their back. I've already expressed my feelings towards slow drivers and their lack of turn signals and other pet peeves behind the wheel. But when I started to examine what other grievances I had toward life in general, I surprised myself. Instead of a laundry list of Things I Despise, I landed on only three things that really make me wanna punch a baby. (Okay, no. I don't punch babies.)


Hideous Attempts at (or Total Disregard for) Proper Grammar
I can't. I just can't handle it. Despite the millions of bilingual people jetting around the world learning perfect English to communicate and succeed, we lazy Americans - who have been speaking just the one language our whole lives - couldn't be bothered. It bothers me so much. Yes, it's a difficult language with almost as many exceptions as there are rules. But that does not give you the liberty to send a text saying "their soooo kewl. your comingg too the party to? omggg".

I'm sorry?!  First of all, that looks like you just tried to text with your toes. It doesn't make you cool to use all the wrong spelling, grammar, and forms of a word. It just makes you illiterate. And I am genuinely nervous about this generation of kids. At some point, they're going to start handing in term papers with "lol" at the end and resumes that list their impressive "kwalifakations".

Secondly, if you're not 12 and trying to fit in by making one "s" into six and adding 37 exclamation points, that's even worse. I've edited some pretty awful college papers. Spelling, grammar, sentence structure, how to use a comma....  After 12+ years of English classes and basic communication with other humans, you'd think these things would be second nature. And if it's something that doesn't come easily, I don't see why it wouldn't be a priority. You're and your. Their, there, and they're. To, two, and too. Its and it's. It's not hard to pinpoint the rather glaring differences, and these words are ridiculously prevalent in almost every sentence you speak or write. Work it out, people.

Noisy Eaters
If I'm blindfolded, I shouldn't know that you're eating and what texture the food is. Even if I'm looking right at you, it's not attractive to be smacking your lips and chewing like a cow. I love food as much as the next person, but I'd love to focus on how delicious my meatball sub is and not that glob of mashed potato hanging off your lip.

To add insult to injury, someone I know has a habit of creating a symphony of sounds to show how much she's enjoying her meal. Also known as yummy noises. It's mostly unconscious, but equally distracting. Imagine a less exaggerated version of the following scene:

 Movie Talkers
Going to see a movie used to be a pretty common event. You'd scrounge up a five and a couple ones and go check out what's playing. Now, with prices over ten bucks, it's a serious commitment you're making to go sit in that theater with your 50-ounce "medium" soda and your $14 box of Bunch-a-Crunch. At least that's how I feel. So when people start talking behind me, I can't help but get upset. And it's usually one of three demographics: 1) teenagers treating the movie as background noise as they flirt and giggle about the latest 8th grade gossip, 2) a large group of unsupervised pre-teens shouting things at the screen and making uninformed jokes about the R-rated movie they weren't carded for, 3) an elderly couple who refuse to wear hearing aids and would rather loudly summarize every scene to each other.

 
Just like driving, it's all about courtesy to others. I don't appreciate you talking over my movie and I don't appreciate you running that stop sign.

Mario's Having a Party

Over the years, there have been so many video games and systems, it's hard to keep track. From Super Mario and Twisted Metal to Crazy Taxi and Wii Sports... entertainment's always evolving. But if you're lucky, you had one beloved game that followed you through every stage of life, stuck with you through thick and thin. For me, that was Mario Party 2.

After 10+ years of playing this game, my friends and I have it down to a science. Specifically, Horror Land. There are several other possible "lands", but they are excluded every time. It's understood that Horror Land is the only way to go. I've never spent more than five minutes in Western Land and would never give Peach the smug satisfaction of having visitors to her Birthday Cake.

I'm not sure exactly what the appeal of Horror Land is. But after hundreds of rounds played, it's got its own compartment in my brain. I sing the theme songs without knowing it. My thumb hits the "A" button unconsciously. Phrases like "handcar havoc", "platform peril" and "skateboard scamper" give me nightmares.
And you might think "Aw... what a sweet way to spend your childhood." If by childhood, you mean last week, then absolutely.

In freshmen year of college, a group of us took part in the ultimate battle royale called the Superstar Challenge. We would play MP2 every night for almost a month, and I don't think I need to tell you ... it got ugly. People were accused of sneaking tally marks onto the score sheet. Coins were fought over; mini-games were won; Boos were called near. But the ultimate offense was stealing your friend's star. After traveling days across barren graveyards, fighting tooth-and-nail for coins and suffering painful encounters with Bowser, any stars you managed to collect for yourself were as valuable as your first-born. So any attempted robberies by so-called "friends" of yours resulted in serious throwdowns.

During any game, tensions were high. It was not uncommon to find yourself at the edge of your seat and, depending on the mini-game, a fairly serious case of Carpel Tunnel in your right hand. By the third or fourth round, all sense of friendly game-playing was quickly replaced with greedy competition and childish name-calling ("Well, no wonder you won, Wario. Look at that fat ass.") And with stress levels at the tipping point, anthills became mountains pretty quickly. Once, in the middle of someone's turn with only two rounds left, her friend accidentally hit the power cord and froze the game. Time stood still. For about 10 minutes, those involved were no longer friends.

 But apart from bitter arguments like these, Mario Party brought everyone together and - whether you're aware of it or not - taught us some pretty important life lessons:

• Don't steal from your friends. (But it's okay to steal from others. They're just the Computer, after all.)
• Stay true to yourself (and your alter ego. Mine is Yoshi - everyone's favorite green dinosaur.)
• Accept others' differences. (Just because Wario's hideous, Luigi's an idiot and Peach is a selfish bitch... doesn't mean they don't deserve love.)
• Persevere to overcome life's toughest obstacles. (We've all been there - You raise the wrong flag in Shy Guy Says. You can't hang on during Shock, Drop and Roll. You can't quite get to pink fast enough in Hexagon Heat. Just gotta keep your head up and hope you land on the Bank.)
• Trust your instincts. (If you're not careful, Bowser's Big Blast will have you second guessing yourself. Just pick your favorite color and hope for a snort, not an eye roll.)
• Contrary to popular belief, skeleton keys are worthless. (Especially when compared to a golden mushroom or magic lamp.)
• If a giant eyeball asks to chase you, the answer is yes. If you're invited to a hootenanny, that's a firm no.

Lessons Learned

Who doesn't love a good movie? Sometimes you leave one thinking "I never thought of it that way" or "Makes me appreciate what I have" or "Wow, what a waste of eleven bucks." True - not all movies can earn an Oscar or record ticket sales or.... any critical acclaim.

But they always have some sort of impact on you. At least for the duration of the walk back to the car. So I thought I'd take a minute and share the lessons that can be learned from some of the greatest films of our generation  movies on my bookshelf:

CLUE - If you're invited by a total stranger to a creepy mansion in the dead of night and asked to remain anonymous, maybe opt out.

LOVE ACTUALLY - If you're Severus Snape or President of the United States, you can be sleazy and adulterous. Other than that, love actually is all around.

DEVIL WEARS PRADA - If you want to be a good person with admirable character, do your own thing and follow your heart. If you want to be successful, be a bitch, stop eating and kiss everyone's ass.

KNOCKED UP - At the bar, stick with a water and lemon.

BRIDESMAIDS - Steer clear of Brazilian meat kabobs, airline scotch and the unmarked pills that bitch just gave you.

17 AGAIN - If you happen to see an elderly janitor jumping off a bridge, keep driving.

THE ISLAND - I won the lottery and a free trip to an island?? I'll pass.

HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 3 - If you're nervous about graduating high school, just lead your classmates in a song & dance number and everything will work itself out naturally.

HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU - Let's all just be lesbians.

OCEAN'S ELEVEN - If you have Brad Pitt's jawline, you can rob a casino. Not a problem.

FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL - DRACULA MUSICAL!!!

EMPEROR'S NEW GROOVE - Avoid llamas and anyone described as "scary beyond all reason". Learn to speak Squirrel.

INCEPTION - Don't fall asleep. Ever, ever again.

 
SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS - File for legal emancipation, move to Maui and call it a day.

FORREST GUMP - When you encounter obstacles in life, the best thing to do is run as hard as you can in the opposite direction.


STEP UP - Vandalism and janitorial work are the way to a woman's heart.

OFFICE SPACE - If you're looking to score a promotion at work, hit the snooze and stop showing up.

THE NOTEBOOK - Do Ryan Gosling and live happily ever after.

Subbing Olympics

Just got home from yet another substitute teaching adventure. Today it was babysitting 8th grade English students all day. Essentially I showed up for 7 hours, watched them do PSSA practice packets, and read 120 pages of a Jodi Picoult book. Apart from a kid leap-frogging over his friend - both standing up - it was a pretty unremarkable day.

But before you go using the words "substituting" and "babysitting" interchangeably - as I just so carelessly did - think again. I have taught every grade from kindergarten anklebitters up through apathetic eight graders, and I have been put through the ringer more times than I can count. Well, that's an exaggeration; for as many students as I've wanted to "push into traffic blindfolded" (credit: Sam Ail), I've had just as many attentive angels. It's just more interesting, in the aftermath, to share stories about the kid that stuck spitballs in his belly button than the one that asked to borrow a pencil.

Kindergarten's rough. If it's your classroom and your kids - they're still climbing the walls but at least you can develop some day-to-day routines. When you're a sub, they quickly begin behaving like rabid sheep and you're the shepherd expected to corral them onto the alphabet carpet. One of the only times I taught kindergarten was in an urban area. The kids were as high as my shins and had attitude coming off of them like cologne. The moment they realized their teacher was gone, it was like the Shot Heard 'Round the World. They spent the next eight hours throwing things, screaming, dancing, scribbling, running and bleeding. Yes, bleeding. During an exasperated lesson on triangles, I had finally gotten them calm for a grand total of 45 seconds when a little girl goes "AHHHHHH!!!" Turns out the kid "accidentally" stabbed herself in the eye. Under WHAT circumstances one drives the point of a pencil into her cornea is beyond me.

Another time, I was teaching first grade. Towards the end of rather stressful day, some loud noises went off outside. I knew for a fact it was a car backfiring. Either that or some shoddy construction work happening down the street. I tried to calmly relay this to the class, but they decided to opt for insanity and began sprinting around the room yelling "GUNFIRE! GUNFIRE!". That's fine, guys. I'll just be over here reading The Giving Tree to myself. Oh, and then comes the cherry on the top of this dysfunctional sundae. I say, "You know what, guys? You wouldn't be behaving this way if your teacher was here," and they stop misbehaving just long enough to shoot me a glance and go, "We know."
 

For purposes of horror stories, I'll skip 2nd through 5th grade cause those are always great days. They're quirky, they're independent, they know how to sit in a chair for longer than sixteen seconds, and I don't need to use the words that invariably slip out of my mouth in most other classrooms: "Physically.... close... your mouths."

Then the kids hit middle school and they all go crazy again in new, undiscovered ways. They're each a unique combination of awkward, giggly, hormonal and rebellious. Once, I showed up at a middle school expecting to sub for an English teacher and was directed instead to the cooking lab in the dungeon  basement. Thankfully I just had to review a syllabus with them and not demonstrate how to make the best creme brulee. But once my spiel was over, there was still about 45 minutes left in the period. So the teens use this time to expand their horizons, a phrase which here means:  raid the kitchen cabinets, call each other "gay" and showcase their budding graffiti careers on all the desks.

So in conclusion, I should probably find another field. Maybe marine biology? I could save the whales. Just kidding... contrary to all of the above, I'm actually a good teacher. These kids just need less sugar and more hugs.

                           

Disney Brats

Before 3D Pixar was born, Disney princesses ruled over everyone. Most girls would prance around their bedrooms looking like some crazy combination of every princess put together: a fairy godmother wand, Cinderella slippers, a red Ariel wig, Snow White's dress, and a tiara that belonged to no one in particular. I guess I was more of a boy in that respect; I preferred some Mowgli and Baloo, with some Simba thrown in.

But for most girls, the Disney Princesses were gorgeous and brave and worthy of the hottest two-dimensional prince anyone could draw. Looking at them now, though, I can't help but think they'd be super annoying in real life.

1) Snow White - She's one of the only ones I idolized as a kid. Of all choices, I picked this girl. She's not even a princess. She literally stumbles into the forest and is so damn tired, she falls asleep in someone else's home. Then when eight midgets show up, she decides to stay. Absolutely. Why wouldn't you? With no other prospects in life, you might as well set up camp in a random cottage and undermine women's rights by doing housework for eight little men with adjectives for names. The only times she feels it necessary to take a break are to: 1) accept suspicious fruit from the hideous old woman outside, 2) hold discussions with various woodland creatures, or 3) whine to the wishing well about how she hasn't found love yet. Can you imagine if this girl actually existed? What would her Facebook status be?

Snow White                                                                                                                                                                     I'm wishing, i'm wishing, for the one I love to find me, to find me today, today. Just had a funky apple ... some ho was handin em out

                 Like · Comment · See Friendship · 18 hours ago near The Woods


2) Ariel - Okay, I don't care if this chick is daughter to some nautical King, she's got all the makings of your typical asshole teenager. She's flighty, self-involved and always off doing her own thing with a fish and a French lobster. Plus her time management is atrocious. Even when she knows she's expected in her conch shell at the undersea concert, she's off playing with dinglehoppers. In real life, she'd be that girl showing up halfway through class, copping attitude with the teacher and twirling her hair with a fork. Which brings us to her blatant lack of gratitude. She's got a whole cavern of treasures untold and she wants more? I'd kill for just one thingamabob. This girl's got twenty! Selfish. And don't even get me started on Prince Eric. He's a sexy sailor with a lovable dog. And Ariel's all "Oops, guess I forgot my clothes on the beach". Voice or no voice, you'd think you could mime a little better. Or heaven forbid you grab a notepad? There's not a single looseleaf in all of Prince Eric's palace?

Ariel                                                                                                                                                                           First day with the new legs. Eric's hot and all, but I can't say a damn thing and his chef tried to cook Sebastian. Cavern of whatzits ain't lookin so bad

Like · Comment · See Friendship · 6 hours ago near The Sea


3) Cinderella - From the outside looking in, Cinderella's an obvious victim. And yes, her life sucks. But if she would just grow a pair, maybe she could turn it around. "Evil" stepmother forces her to sweep? The broad's probably just got a 9-to-5 she hates and she's trying to take it out on her only pretty daughter. All Cindy's gotta do is tell her mom to take a hike, give those ugly stepsisters some tweezers and Invisalign, hit up the closest JC Penney for a gown, and hightail it over to that ball. Then when that fairy godmother shows up, all you gotta say is "No crazy for me, thanks" and take a taxi like a normal person. No curse, no curfew. Midnight will come and go and the party will still be hoppin'. (I'd skip the transparent heels though... shards of glass in your heel can really be a buzzkill.) Cut to 4 AM, Cindy and Charming on a horse, happily ever after.

Cinderella Charming                                                                                                                                       Woke up and a big pumpkin on wheels was outside the castle. Effing godmother won't take a hint.

Like · Comment · See Friendship · 6 hours ago near Happily Ever After