Freaking real(ity) TV

So, I'm fascinated by this show I'm watching on A&E right now called "Intervention." Basically, the premise is they focus on someone with an addiction and then they follow them from the beginning, to the intervention, to treatment, etc.

Right now I'm watching this girl named Cristy who wanted to be a fashion designer, but got all addicated to crystal meth and alcohol and now she's a stripper. Her sister just came to try to make her eat lunch and she was so messed up she ended up beating her sister -- all of this while naked. In a house that looked like a hurricane had been through it and she was just living in the piles.

I don't know, really, what it's like to be in a situation where you have a family member who's so bad off that you have to just swoop in and haul them off to the rehab. I never had an immediate family member who was addicted to hard drugs ... it's all normal, run of the mill stuff.

So, as fascinated as I am, I'm sad. I can't imagine something having that kind of control over you. I make jokes about meth all the time (because it's a HUGE problem where I live) by saying that if it didn't make you ugly, I'd be all over it to make me thin, but after seeing this, I sort of feel bad for saying it.

And then there's the part of me that's wrestling with why I'm watching it. I mean, it's somewhat educational and I'm learning something, but then again, I feel like I'm watching someone else's life blow up for the sake of entertainment.

I've had a rough couple of days, so I think it goes back to the, "Well, it's nice to know that somebody's worse off than you, Jacque." I mean, isn't that why we watch "Maury" or "Jerry Springer"? There's part of us that likes to know that somewhere, someone's having a worse day than you are.

But it's kind of sad. I can't even imagine just drinking vodka like it's bottled water, and that's what she's doing. She's just drinking it right out of the bottle. It blows my mind.

Christmas *IS* only six weeks away

This is on the list.

This guy ...










Is ... a freakin' beast. In the last 45 seconds of the game Saturday night against the Devils, he probably had five saves to keep them from tying it. Out of my long-standing tradition of goalie love, Rick DiPietro's been it for the past couple of years.

Tonight's game is against the Flyers, which as much as I love Philadelphia, I'll be going against them tonight. :) (Sorry, Ang. But the next time the Islanders are in town, I totally need to come over and we can go!!)

That's right ... sadly, my interest in football is waning now that hockey's getting into full swing. Julie and I are even going on a semi-pro hockey tour in two weeks. Maybe it's my Canadiophilia ...

Truth through art

Just so you know, it's not out of the realm of possibility that something very similar to this has happened with my friends and me. I, of course, would be the one holding the flame thrower.

We have a lot of great ideas ... it's a shame most of them suck.

Happy birthday, Angie!!

The beautiful girl on the left is celebrating her birthday today in Philadelphia. I'm unfortunately not in Philadelphia today to help her, but I think she knows that I'm there in spirit. This picture was from her bachelorette party March 31, 2007.

Happy birthday to someone who really has seen it all with me and never left my side through any of it. You are simply the best, ever.

And I hope you at least go buy a cute coat today or something ... Maybe hang out with Lord Hauser. :)

So if you're one of my readers and inclined, leave Angie some birthday love!

First Song Friday (11-09-07)

Oh, kids. If this morning's pick is any indication, today could be off the charts in fantastic.

Today's pick, courtesy of the 1980s Music Choice channel on my digital cable provided by Suddenlink, a company for which I am like a battered wife.

The first song I heard today is, "We Built This City" by Starship. A song, by most accounts (including this one where Blender magazine named it pretty much the worst song ever), that represented all that was wrong with pop music, even though the song railed against it.

For your singalong pleasure:

We Built This City

Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Say you don't know me or recognize my face
Say you don't care who goes to that kind of place
Knee deep in the hoopla, sinking in your fight
Too many runaways eating up the night

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Someone always playing corporation games
Who cares they're always changing corporation names
We just want to dance here, someone stole the stage
They call us irresponsible, write us off the page

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

It's just another Sunday, in a tired old street
Police have got the choke hold, oh then we just lost the beat

Who counts the money underneath the bar
Who rides the wrecking ball in two rock guitars
Don't tell us you need us, cos were the ship of fools
Looking for America, coming through your schools

(I'm looking out over that Golden Gate Bridge
Out on another gorgeous sunny Saturday, not seein' that bumper to bumper traffic)

Don't you remember ('member)('member)

(what's your favorite radio station, in your favorite radio city
The city by the bay, the city that rocks, the city that never sleeps)

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

(we built, we built this city) built this city (we built, we built this city)

I makes me wish my open fingered gloves were here already!!

'Your next wedding invitation ...'

My friend Amber makes me laugh really hard. She sent this to me. She said she anticipates this is in my future.

Give it up, bro

Julie sent me a story from Newsweek online today about -- man boobs.

Not a tasty post-lunch treat, that's for sure. But it's kind of interesting.

Most of us would naturally presume that man boobs show up because you get fat. And while yeah, that's true, it's not just because you're packing it on, it's because of the estrogen that extra fat brings with it. I was fascinated.

Anyway, if you're interested, you can read the entire article here. It's actually pretty interesting, but I'm a science geek. And it contains the pop-culture "Seinfeld" reference to the "bro."

Ten more simple rules to live by

My friend Amber sent me a story today from the London Daily Mail. A mafia Godfather was arrested in Sicily, and when they took him into custody, they found the Ten Commandments of mafioso.

It's always good to be more informed than less informed, you know.

The 10 'Mafiosi' commandments are:

1. No one can present himself directly to another of our friends. There must be a third person to do it.

2. Never look at the wives of friends.

3. Never be seen with cops.

4. Don't go to pubs and clubs.

5. Always be available for Cosa Nostra, even if your wife's about to give birth.

6. Appointments must be respected.

7. Wives must be treated with respect.

8. When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth.

9. Money cannot be appropriated if it belongs to others or to other families.

10. People who can't be part of Cosa Nostra are anyone with a close relative in the police, with a two-timing relative in the family, anyone who behaves badly and doesn't hold to moral values.

Ooof. I'm gonna have a problem with 3, 4 and 6 ...

Reason No. 1,724 why I love the New York Post

Excellence in headline writing, served fresh daily.

*giggle*

I'm so ordering this shirt for myself on Friday when I get paid. Especially since it's 'Surfolk' County Public Schools. And it's 1987.

Personally, I celebrate the man's entire catalog

Although he wasn't talking about the same Michael, Bob Slydell in "Office Space" definitely said it best.

But I don't celebrate Michael Bolton.

I celebrate Michael McDonald.

To me, it doesn't get any better than when he sings, "Ain't No Mountain High Enough."

And, yes. I own BOTH Motown CDs.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

"Jacque ... that man ruined the Doobie Brothers. He destroyed an American institution."

You call this destroying?



That is musical magic. Much like Ricky Bobby in "Talledega Nights," when Michael McDonald wakes up in the morning, he pisses excellence.

Excellence like this gem from the 1986 movie, "Running Scared."



I know what you're thinking.

"Jacque, that movie is great on its own. It didn't need a song to make it better! It's got Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines for the love of God."

You ... would be wrong. That song makes the perfect compliment to an already fantastic flick.

Play that YouTube vid and you try to tell me you're not chair dancing -- even a little. It's impossible. The power of Michael compels you. You can't sit there with a frown when "Sweet Freedom" starts to play. You'll be humming it and realizing that all of those times you thought that genius destoryed the Doobie Brothers, you were very, very wrong.

The Dead Neighbor Proxy

Seeing this post about the word "vajayjay" on my friend Jim's blog this morning reminded me of one of my life-governing principles.

Sure, I've got the life-governing principles on men.

1. Don't trust a man with two first names, or a man who has a first name for a last name.
2. Don't trust a man with a standalone mustache.
3. Don't trust a man who has, or had (and found it to be the pinnacle of fashion) a mullet.
4. Don't trust a man who wears douchebag sunglasses.
5. Don't trust a man who uses more styling products than you do.

But one of my other life-governing principles involves this woman. Oprah.

Maybe it's not JUST Oprah, but she is the most powerful vehicle for the proxy.

Oprah is a very, very powerful woman.

In token, most American women are sheep.

Oprah puts her "O" on a book, and millions of people run to the closest Barnes and Noble, Wal-Mart, Target, grocery store, flea market and what-have-you to buy a copy.

Oprah says, "Ham will make you lose weight! I love ham!" and no grocery store in suburbia has ham on the shelves.

Oprah says, "Stripes are the hot fashion this season" and every woman you pass who isn't in a velvet track suit is wearing stripes of various widths and colors.

Oprah says, "HEEEEEYYYYY! LAAAADIEEEES!! GO KILL YA' NAAAAAY-BOR!!" and I swear to GOD as I sit here, there would be dead neighbors all over the United States. Everywhere you went, there would be dead neighbors.

All because of the power she wields. Hence the "Dead Neighbor Proxy." This, naturally, leads me to label her as a terrorist. I have middle-aged women in my neighborhood. I'm a moving target.

Don't get me wrong, though. It's not just Oprah's fault. It's her legion of militant, sheep-like followers that are equally at fault. It's not going to be Oprah that kills me by poisoning my banana bread with strychnine. It's going to be the sweet older lady who lives two townhouses down from me. It could be my mother or my sister, who are both HUGE, HUGE Oprah devotees. I can't tell you how many times I've been handed a book because, "I saw it on Oprah," or had a story start out with, "I was watching Oprah today after work, and ..."

But I am wearing stripes today. Not because Oprah told me. Because I haven't worn this shirt yet and I got it for $1.99 at New York and Co.

Follow up file: You're suing the wrong guy, Amy.

Ah, friends. It's time for another visit from the Lou-meister. And now, it's getting even better.

You know how you ask yourself, "Could this get any better?"

It just has.

For those of you who are new, we've previously established that Lou Bellera, husband of Amy Fisher, shouldn't be trusted under any circumstances.

The reason?

1. His name is Lou.

2. That hair is a dead giveaway.

3. Those f-ing sunglasses.

I also learned that Lou used to be a cop. This may open up a whole new category of men that shouldn't be trusted (in addition to the universally accepted men with two first names, men with stand alone moustaches and men who have, or used to have, mullets), but more on that should the need arise.

Today, TMZ.com (a site to which I am hopelessly addicted) reports that Amy and her husband have filed suit in federal court in New York to stop the distribution of this tape.

Here's where I really wish I lived on Long Island and Amy and I could push our carts around at King Kullen and talk this through. I'd talk to her about what was bothering me that day, likely that I had to wait 35 minutes to get my acrylics filled at the strip mall that morning and that my Dolce and Gabbana velvet track suit was STILL at the cleaners after one of the twins threw up all over it ... again ... at the Catholic school fundraiser. Then I'd be quiet and listen to what was troubling her. In this case, she'd clearly be the winner.

I'd tell her that she's suing the wrong person.

I mean, I'm no lawyer, but I'd say the problem here far more rests with her douchewagon of a husband than the distributor. I mean, after all, he sold it to them fair and square as a way to get back at his estranged wife. He knew exactly what he was doing when he sold it.

In the lawsuit (which you can read at TMZ.com), it says that he didn't have the right to sell it without her permission, so when he did it, he wasn't cleared to do so, so the distributor can't legally distribute what they technically weren't able to legally buy in the first place.

Oh, COME ON.

I would tell Amy while we hung out at Starbucks that afternoon that I respect being through a lot with your man, and I understand wanting to keep your family in tact, but some things are unforgivable. His hair is unforgivable, but let's look past the physical for a minute. I stand by what I said earlier -- I'd f-ing kill him. I wouldn't need a lawyer to stop the tape, I'd need a lawyer to stop me from 20 to life at Albion for dismembering my husband in a way that people only write books about.

I would say, Amy, you said that you just wanted to hide out in your house and let this blow over (pardon the pun). Filing a lawsuit trying to block something that probably can't be stopped at this point isn't the way to have that happen.

You also may want to read my various writings on the specific types of men to NOT trust. You're lax in that department.

'Local Lawmaker Punished for Honesty'

So, my political leanings aren't what you'd call "run of the mill."

On paper, I'm Libertarian. Basically, I'm kind of like, "OK, government, build my roads and stuff, but I can take care of me. Really. Just back off."

Socially, I'm very liberal. Fiscally, I'm very conservative. This often provides great fire for debate.

However, liberal or conservative, Republican or Democrat, you get my undying support if you're just honest.

Let's take my pal, beleaguered Republican Idaho Sen. Larry Craig for example.

Dude, it's cool. You were trolling for ass in an airport bathroom. I'm for you and your right to happiness. Just don't be a douche about it when you're caught. Nut up. Take responsibility. Move on. Don't go on TV and cry. Don't toss about the idea of rehab. For the love of God, don't say you've found Jesus. Just shrug your shoulders, smile sheepishly and say, "Eeesh, sorry 'bout that. It seemed like a great idea at the time."

That's why this story caught my eye:

OLYMPIA, Wash. (AP) - Minority House Republicans, already reeling from a sex scandal that prompted one member to quit, have severely disciplined a Vancouver lawmaker for inappropriate remarks to a female staffer.
Rep. Jim Dunn was stripped of all committee assignments on Monday, and will be required to attend sensitivity training, said House Minority Leader Richard DeBolt, R-Chehalis. Dunn had been the ranking Republican on the Housing Committee, and sat on the powerful House spending committee.
"We know that society has moved beyond off-color remarks between men and women," DeBolt said Monday evening. "We're big kids, so we need to act like that."
The strength of the discipline raised the possibility that Dunn could resign.
Dunn, reached at home Monday evening, said he had not read DeBolt's letter of reprimand. Dunn said he had no plans to resign.
Dunn said he already has apologized to the woman who was the target of his remark, which came at a gathering after a House Appropriations subcommittee meeting in the Tri-Cities last week.
Dunn also said he could not exactly recall what he said to the woman, but said he was "sure it was very inappropriate, because I do that kind of thing." He also acknowledged it could have been interpreted as sexual harassment.

Thank you, Jim Dunn. Thank you for your honesty. Rather than hemming and hawing and giving a bunch of "aww, jeez, I mean, Um ... well, I wouldn't say ... well, in that context, um, uhhh," you stood up and said (in some fashion), "Yeah, it's not UNlike me to call someone sugartits."

I salute you.

Today's poll is brought to you by ...

I fell asleep last night watching "When Harry Met Sally" because it was on one of the channels. I blame it for being top-of-mind when I was thinking of a poll question.

I'm curious about the results of this one. I know my vote. :) My vote is a resounding "hell yes." Some of my closest friends are men, and there's no "ooh, I could date them" undertone.

Or am I kidding myself 'cause I'm not a man? Maybe all men see women in the "I could date them" undertone.

The results are in: You hate 'em all!

In the ol' bloggeriffic poll this week, I asked:

Which of these celebutards are likely to die first? (Either by their own hand or an equally awesome circumstance.)

Here's how you voted:

Britney Spears -- 36 percent (4 votes)
Paris Hilton -- GOOSE EGG!
Lindsay Lohan -- 9 percent (1 vote ... I'm glad there's still hope!)
One of those adorable Olsen twins -- 9 percent (1 vote ... which one?)
Can we be lucky enough to have them all wiped out at once? -- 45 percent (5 votes)

It's comforting to know you're hoping to make the world a better place in one fell swoop!

... Oh NO she didn't

Me (at hair salon): Hi. Do you have time to fit in a color? Not highlights. Just single process?

Stylist: Are you looking for something different or just to cover up your gray?

Me: Um ... Uh ... Just darker.

I have visible gray and nobody told me?? My closest girls KNOW that gray at 28 is something I will not accept!

"... just to cover up your gray."

Screw you, aging. You aren't taking me that easily. I will fight you like we're in a trailer park and you're sleeping with my man. I don't want to break a Bud Light bottle across your face, but I will.

Hrmph.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Why! Why ... it's ... it's a MAJOR AWARD!

Oh, and you better believe it's cooler than that. Although that's still on my Top Five list of wants of all time.

Angela, the writer of a fanastic blog I read called "Blog It Like You Mean It" has bestowed upon little ol' me a "Best Kept Secret" award.

So, naturally, since it's a secret, the first thing I'm gonna do is tell YOU.

I'm excited. Of course, now, this means I've peaked at 28 and I'm opening the door wide open for continued disappointment from here forward. Unless I get that drum set for Christmas, and then ... GAME ON!

Born a 10-year-old, but still a kid

We've been talking love songs lately. Namely that Billy Joel song, "She's Always a Woman."

Beth brought in her copy of Madonna's compilation CD from the early '90s, "The Immaculate Collection."

I've been listening to it most of the afternoon. Much like other artists who allowed fame to ruin them, it's nice to remember a time when she actually produced fun things that didn't involve a bunch of pretentious studio artists putting their own unique touch on it.

But, anyway, on this CD, track six is "Crazy for You," which is a beautiful love song that I believe was on the "Mystic Pizza" soundtrack. That takes me back. Wow.

But I've listened to this song a dozen times today. I think it's beautiful. And it's like when I listen to the song, I can see pictures of what the song's talking about in my head. I think everybody can. I think everybody's been there.

The song "Open Your Heart" ... another classic. It's another one of those unrequited "just give me a chance" kind of love songs.

If you think about it, love songs all have about the same thread -- either come back to me, don't leave me or just notice me! I'm a huge fan of "just notice me." I mean, so much of this world would find love if they just noticed what was around them. There are entire Web sites dedicated to this concept -- chance meetings, random occurrences. I love reading them. They're both fascinating and sad all at the same time.

Of course, I'm not normal.

I've been listening to a lot of 1980s radio lately thanks to my pals at XM. It makes me realize how much I hate music today. That makes me old and crotchety, I know. I'm not even in my 30s and I think about how great life would be if we all still had banana clips and jelly sandals and the legal drinking age was 18.

If I had leg warmers, I'd be all over it right now. I've said this a hundred times ... I'm sure I was born a 10-year-old. Something got mixed up in shipping and receiving and I really should have been born in 1969, not 1979. I should have been going to high school in the mid-1980s, not the mid-1990s.

But then again, if that were true, I'd be kissing 40 rather than 30, and I'm not sure if that's any better.

What's puzzling you is the nature of my game

Today, I got a new watch at Target, because I can't find any of my watches from the move.

So, I got this really pretty stainless steel one because that's just how I roll. It's stylish, yet very grown up.

And it's about four sizes too big.

Oh, sure, they give you 'easy' directions on how to remove links. Easy if you're a freaking jeweler.

I also saw a Hello Kitty watch for about $3.99. I had it in my hand before I went the adult route and got the stainless one.

As I lamented to Paige about my huge watch with impossible-to-remove links, I made the observation that "no move toward adulthood goes unpunished." She agreed.

My family was here today, which was nice. I had my sister here overnight. My sister and I have an odd relationship, but a close one. I don't get her, she doesn't get me. We're OK with that. Last night we saw a friend of mine from Pilates class and she said we looked alike. It always seems that people who don't know us are the ones who say we look alike. My sister's a little taller than I am, she's got blonde hair, blue eyes and a little darker complected. I'm about as pale as they come, auburn hair, bright green eyes. Rarely, if ever, do I get "Oh, you look just alike."

But we had a good time. We went for dinner and ice cream and then came back here where both of us fell asleep almost immediately from full bellies. My parents joined us today and we all had dinner for Dad's birthday. He's a year away from retirement, but convinced he's not going to live that long. My Dad and I are alike in that way ... He says he won't make it to 62. He said he wouldn't make it to 60. I can remember when I was a kid him saying he didn't believe he'd make it to 40.

I always say that I won't make it past 30. And it's going to be in some amazing blaze of glory fashion that I go out. Hahaha ... Likely after saying, "Guys! Seriously! Check this out!"

But tonight, I've found myself giving up on getting the links out of the watch and watching "Kingpin" which combines two of my most favorite things -- bowling and the Amish. You could say I'm obsessed with both, along with drumming and Kiefer Sutherland. I mean, the bowling is something people laugh about. One morning, I actually was almost late for work because I was watching the end of a professional bowling match. I'll watch professional bowling almost every time it's on TV. That makes me ... ridiculous.

Most people find this movie to be really, really stupid. And it is. But there's also some comedic gold in that film, and some of the best one-liners ever. I started it last night, but my sister wanted to watch "Tommy Boy" instead. So, because it's just me and Inky holding down the fort tonight, we're watching the kind of crap we want to watch. Well, to be fair, Inky isn't watching anything. She's asleep in front of the heater vent where it's warm.

When I lived in my old apartment five years ago, I'd sleep on the couch on the weekends. It was my weekend ritual. I don't know why it felt so good to sleep on the couch after a week's worth of work, but it did. I'd sleep on the couch with the TV on channel that was showing infomercials. I figure that's to blame for 90 percent of my desire to own a Showtime Rotisserie Grill and a Juice Tiger.

But the last weekend I spent in my house, I tried to sleep on the couch and couldn't do it. I woke up around 2 and went up to my bed and crawled between the sheets and fell back into a really deep sleep. Tonight may be the next attempt at couch sleeping, because as I'm writing this, it's sucking me in and telling me to stay.

Ah, Saturday night on your own. It's a hell of a party. :)