Archive for the ‘The Telly’ Category

A couple of things.

Sunday, August 28th, 2011

First of all, apparently we are all going to die as Hurricane Irene waltzes over the tri-state area, and the people who remain will have to rebuild civilization, so good luck to them. I’m going to share a few things and then go to bed and hope that all the old-growth trees around my apartment building do not uproot themselves and plunge through my window (which would totally bum me out). First:

A website called Winning at Everything. I believe it was started by the same people who made Regretsy, a favorite of mine. Here are a few choice selections.

And my personal favorite of all time:

The other thing I wanted to share I do with a heavy heart. As much as I have tried, I do not like Doctor Who. I don’t. The problem with that is many people who I enjoy being around and who’s opinions of things matter to me adore Doctor Who. Like, crazy obsessive adoration. And I cannot for the life of me get into it. I’ve watched all of Season One (Eccleston) and all of Season Two (Tennant) and I give up. I have a hard time getting into science fiction at the best of times. The science fiction on Doctor Who is so wacky and the special effects are so cheese-tastic – maybe that’s part of its charm, but it just makes me miss Firefly. I never liked Star Trek, I guess it’s like the same thing. Sigh.

Adore the theme song, though.

People who are unnecessarily talented. Not fair.

Thursday, August 18th, 2011

First of all, a video that made me laugh for a solid five minutes. Anyone wonder what a horse race looks like inside my head? Well, wonder no more.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/chrismenning/typical-horse-racing-in-japan

Now, on to the talent portion of our competition. I like to think I have some skills in some areas. However, often I am shown that I am not awesome in any way, shape or form. I would like to share some videos of people making me feel useless right now.

1. Some Japanese men making mochi. Be sure to watch the bit between the pounder thing and the bare hands.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HKnHnUk0S8&

2. This policeman riding a motorcycle all smooth-like around super-tight turns. You know how this would go for me? Get on motorcycle. Progress five feet forward. Fall over, most likely with the motorcycle on top of me. Moan until someone rescues me. The end.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJxOsYh12yY&

3. And finally, the Nike basketball commercial from 2001. Damn. DAMN. It made me want to learn how to bounce that tangerine orb like a pro.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kSmis2g3SI&

Happy Birthday to me, plus reality TV and a fascinator.

Monday, August 1st, 2011

It’s my birthday today! Very exciting. I had cake and grilled meats (not at the same time), it was all very lovely. The finest present I received, however, was this on the TV when I got home.

Has everything been made for TV that’s going to be? Because I feel like we’re bottom-feeding in the Marianas Trench now. For you kids at home that managed to make it through the Nineties without hearing about Heidi Fleiss, she was a real famous madam in New York who had a bevy of faaaahne women working for her, but alas she was caught and went to prison and got hooked on drugs…and if you look at the picture I’ve included, she clearly, at some point, had a whole bunch of face work done. Watching her smile is like watching a spectre trying to grin after a root canal. Geesh.

And now she has twenty parrots (loud ones, macaws) hanging out in her house. I’m glad I know this now.

More importantly, I made myself a festive fascinator (translation: stuff stuck to a headband). I saw this on a crafting blog:

http://news.holidash.com//2010/04/23/mothers-day-corsage/

And I didn’t want a big brooch, but I did want a shnazzy headband, so I adapted it for headband use. First, I individually dyed each petal with alcohol and ink.

Then I glued them all together but because they were stiff from the alcohol, they didn’t mash together, causing gaps. To make the gaps less…gap-y, I made dark purple polymer clay twisty thorns and scattered them in and out and all around. Finally, I thought it needed leaves so I found some super-green peacock feathers and made some orange wire stems and poof, fancy headdress for me.

Now I just needed to get invited to a party with a Frida Kahlo theme or something so I have a reason to rock this thing in public.

Ugh. Must remember not to watch reality TV.

Thursday, June 30th, 2011

I got home last night from a rather grueling week of work and I flipped on the TV just to cool and down and relax and possibly fall asleep. There was nothing, and I mean NOTHING worth watching, so I didn’t bother to change the channel from what I had been watching the night before (TLC). Here’s the problem: Toddlers and Tiaras was on. You could actually hear the “shlupth” of me getting sucked in against my will. I kept saying things like, “Okay, seriously, next commercial break, I’m changing the channel.” But I didn’t. And so I got to see a few things I didn’t want to see. And one thing I did. The episode I was watching was a Halloween pageant, so the little girls got to dress up in costumes. One was a bride, one was Little Bo Peep, etc. But there was one who was…different, and when they lined up on the stage, you could clearly see which kid that was.

I think of two things when I look at her: One, the Bee Girl from that Blind Melon video, and the girl from Little Miss Sunshine. I really wanted her to break into either “No Rain” or “Superfreak”, but if she did do either of those things, we didn’t get to see it.

I did, however get to see the worst thing ever in the history of the world. It actually caught me off-guard and I jerked back and said, “Whoa” to the invisible people who watch TV with me in my apartment. I tried to capture it with an animated gif, but I don’t think I did it justice. It’s a girl, about four years old, dressed as a kitty-kat. I think her mom told her to pantomime licking her paw or something, but that is not what it looked like. THAT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKED LIKE. Even thinking about it, I gotta go wash my hands.

As an added bonus, here’s a video of Eden, one of the most famous pageant-circuit girls. I can’t stop laughing every time I watch this.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/theuniblogger/disturbing-toddler-beauty-queen-slowed-down-to-a-bhd

Torchwood and Winter’s Bone.

Monday, June 20th, 2011

How is it that there is nothing good on TV, like, ever anymore? House is tragically sinking into the mire like a baby mammoth in a tar pit; Castle, while starring the charming Nathan Fillion (browncoats forever!), has some of the hokiest writing this side of the galaxy; Law and Order SVU has totally jumped the shark and is completely cringe-worthy and unwatchable, and I am just not diggin’ Modern Family – everyone is a bit whiny. If it wasn’t for Tosh.0, Mad Men, Community, 30 Rock and Nurse Jackie I would have nothing to watch. So I have now turned to Netflix for all my TV needs. Did you know they have TV shows in their entirety on there? Very exciting. I decided to watch a show called Torchwood. I read on a blog that I like that Torchwood is a snazzy show, and indeed, the first two seasons were pretty good. It’s a spin-off of Dr. Who (which I totally need to get to watchin’) and it reminds me of The X Files, if The X Files were set in Cardiff, Wales. Here’s some interesting info on Torchwood: It’s a UK show, so the rules are different. And we here in the U.S. have a lot to learn. For example, everybody’s pretty bisexual. Seriously. It’s a cast of about five people, and all of them have made out with each other and everyone else in Cardiff. And no one cares. I would like to believe that homosexual behavior is regarded as normal there, that no one looks at it funny and the show is reflecting their society. That would be terrific. Also, sometimes people use the F word and the S word. They don’t bandy it about willy-nilly, but occasionally one pops up in a heated scene. And no one bursts into flame. You hear me, FCC? The earth continues to rotate. Stop being so puritanical.

Next I intend to watch Battlestar Galactica (also based on a recommendation). If anyone has any other TV shows, preferably on the instant queue of Netflix, for me to watch, I would love to hear it.

I saw the Oscar-nominated film Winter’s Bone last week. I used to try to see all the Oscar films that are nominated for Best Picture the week before the Oscars took place so I would be able to make intelligent choices as I yell at the television, but I don’t now for two reasons: one, there are ten of them now, and that’s too much film-watching for me, and two, apparently one of the qualifications for being a Best Picture nominee is being a soul-crushingly, depressingly sad film. Like chug-a-fifth-of-gin-to-forget depressing. So I space them out over a large period of time to soften the pain. Winter’s Bone was anywhere near as sad as, say, The Reader or Slumdog Millionaire, but it sure wasn’t happy. It’s about life in the Meth Belt. (Remember the Bread Belt? We now have a Meth Belt. Progress!) Quick plot summary: poor white teen girl supporting her whole family goes looking for her missing father all over the Ozarks, meeting many grim-faced white people along the way. There are no leaves on the trees. There are no plants in the ground. There are no pleasantries exchanged. No one smiles, ever. It’s a chipper film. That being said, I liked it. I was interested the whole time. It’s so incredibly foreign to me, the way they live and co-exist, it was like watching a foreign film in English. I recommend it, but don’t watch it waiting for explosions or nothing. It’s a quiet film.

London, Part 1.

Thursday, February 17th, 2011

I’m back from London, and I have brought with me the dreaded Lung Rattle, Accompanied by Nasal Snot. I make this upsetting horking noise, like a cat regurgitating lawn clippings, it’s not good. But other than that, it was a great trip. I have sorted through all the pictures, and I will end up blogging about 110 of them. They’re all cropped and organized, but first I want to talk about the picture-free aspects of the trip. I was in London for six days. I had been there before, but Cricket had not, so we did all the tourist attractions, and since I hadn’t been there in eight years it was nice to have the refresher course. London is a wonderful city, but it has one huge tragic flaw in my book: its street layout. Here’s the city planning of London – Romans arrive and name it Londinium in 43 A.D. There are some houses. They put a street near those houses. Then there are more houses. Another street appears near them. And so on and so forth, with absolutely no concern whatsoever for, you know, any kind of order or anything. It’s a horror to navigate. A street map of London looks like Dr. Seuss took some acid and dropped uncooked spaghetti on the floor. Here’s a map I found on the web.

See? The streets change names and have odd angles, and they’re leaving out all the smaller streets and alleys and dead ends. It’s like Lower Manhattan, but all over. I was so sad. If I lived there, I would have to have a chip put in my neck so people could find me after I wandered off so I wouldn’t get mired in a peat bog and be found perfectly preserved thousands of years later.

My favorite comedian in the whole wide world is Patton Oswalt, and I have a bootleg performance of him in Atlanta in 2002. He talks about one of his trips to England and Ireland, and I pulled a small chunk out for you to listen to. Warning: some coarse words.

patton-oswalt

Now, I’ve heard that for years, and I was like, oh, game shows can’t be that different in England. Hoo boy, was I wrong. I was in the hotel one afternoon and I caught a bit of a show called Countdown. First of all, it’s like the SATs. You have to be good with both letters and numbers. Second, they have a resident lexicographer named Susie Dent, who they occasionally go to for fun word info (in the episode I caught, she explained the origins of some of our favorite dinosaur names for a good three minutes, which in game show time is a month and a half). There’s no background music. There’s no cheering. Watching it is like penance for a crime. These two contestants bust their humps with word and number problems for a half-hour. The loser got (I’m not making this up) the Oxford Dictionary and a mug with the Countdown logo on it. The winner, who was on his eighth day, they didn’t even mention what he was going to win, whenever that happened. I had to look it up. Brace yourself: He or she wins a leather-bound copy of the twenty-volume Oxford English Dictionary, worth £4,000, which is about $6,000 (okay) and THE UGLIEST TEAPOT IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

So let’s review: The contestant I saw had been on the show for eight straight days, I have no idea how many more days he has to be on to win, and when he does wins, finally, he will bring home $6,000 worth of books and an affront to mankind masquerading as a teapot which he will most likely display on his mantle to appall people’s good taste for years to come. I’d like to see this show last on American television for two episodes. On the Game Show channel, at 2:00 in the morning. Even then, it wouldn’t happen.

Tomorrow, I’ll start on the many cultural wonders I saw, but for now, after editing all those pics, I’m going to bed.

A whole pile of random television-related items.

Wednesday, December 8th, 2010

1. I do not like football, but I love the little Fox robot that dances on the side of the screen from time to time. If I am forced to watch a football game, the robot is usually all I enjoy.

Robot doin’ his thang.

I have just found out the robot’s name is Cletus. This only further endears him to me.

2. Remember back when I complained about the wallpaper in the Eminem video? Here’s the entry. I guess there must be a discount on that wallpaper for TV decorators, because I’ve been seeing it everywhere. I was watching Scrubs, and there it was. And a few days later I caught a JCPenney’s commercial, and whaddya know, my nemesis Beautiful But Too Expensive Wallpaper is in the background. We meet again. *slitted eyes*

3. I was channel-flipping and stopped upon Hoarding; Buried Alive, and while they were interviewing this woman, I couldn’t stop staring at the thing behind her.

What the hell is that thing? I thought it looked like a startled Uruk Hai. Uruk Hai, in case you don’t know, are these profoundly icky war creatures from Lord of the Rings. Here’s a picture of one.

Still don’t see it? I photoshopped the original image to help you out.

Now? With the ganked-up teeth/buttons? Well, I have no idea what this woman was saying because I spent the whole time saying, “IT’S LOOKING AT ME. MAKE IT STOP LOOKING AT ME.”

4. A while back Snorth introduced me to this playwright named Edgar Oliver. Edgar has the most bizarre speech pattern. I was like, yeah, whatever, he’s a big hairy bucket of odd. And then, I was watching a show called Oddities on Discovery and poof! there was Edgar. It was like a switch was flipped. I am obsessed with him now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmIq3paht2U

It’s such an unhealthy obsession, I have made an mp3 of all of his dialog from this episode where he rents a strait jacket for his play. I want to turn it into a ringtone or something. Especially when he says, “Yes,” around the 46-second mark. So, so very creepy and awesome.

Edgar at Obscura

Hoarders: I want to look away… but I cannot…

Thursday, September 16th, 2010

There’s a show on A&E called Hoarders. I occasionally watch it from time to time, and sure enough, people keep stuff. Lots of stuff. Stuff that breeds bugs. It can be gross. But I had never seen I house like this one before. This is… intense. Conveniently, A&E had it posted on their website, so I could take screengrabs and share it with you now.

There is the opener.

And there is the description of a hoarder.

Unsanitary? Oh, you ain’t kiddin’. Let’s meet Robin. This is Robin.

And this is Robin’s house.

Let’s stop here for a second. I understand keeping lots of things for the sentimental value or whatever, but this woman kept trash. I was screaming at the TV, “The garbage trucks come right up to the house! You don’t gotta bring it nowhere! They come to you! There’s a schedule and everything!!” Robin’s house was reported because the neighbors could smell it. They could smell it through the walls and down the street. Holy guacamole.

If you also plan to purge your collections and declutter, consider renting skip bins from https://www.ozoneskips.com.au/skip-bins-woodcroft/.

Robin also had an unknown number of cats, for whom the whole house was a litter box. They had been going to the bathroom all over the house for the last ten years. I had the distinct pleasure of hearing the clean-up guy say, “This is her dining room table. And this is three-and-a-half feet of cat feces on it.”

Cat feces in a pile.

Cat feces in a heap.

Cat feces on top of the washing machine with broken jar.

I feel like I could write an ode to cat feces now, I know so much about it.

Robin would have happily continued living like this for all eternity, except the city came to visit and found her house unlivable and unless she got it up to code it would be demolished and she would be fined $30,000. That’s some real deal stuff. Normally, the city complains and you get a fine or something, or they take your house away from you, something like that. Robin’s house is so foulsome they want to bulldoze it and possibly set it on fire to kill the demons that live within. You know it’s bad if people from Calcutta were to come to see it and their response would be, “Yeah, I don’t want to live there. It’s kinda grody. There’s a funk.” That’s a good standard to use. Here’s the sign in the window.

Brief diversion: Robin’s father is named Festus and her brother is named Snuffy. Festus and Snuffy.

Diversion over. During the cleaning process, the cleaning people found a myriad of horrors. Mainly extremely deceased cats. Visit https://garrettsmaintenance.com/residential/ professional cleaning services.

Dead Cat #1.

Dead Cat #2.

Dead Cat #3 – now with mummification!

The worst thing of all was by far the poop closet. Oh God, the poop closet. I will not show you any pictures of the poop closet, but the backstory is her plumbing hasn’t worked in ten years, so she’s been doing her business in supermarket bags and then tossing the bags in the stairwell. Ten years’ worth of bags. Sometimes, when I’m alone, I’ll hear voices, and they’ll say, softly, “…poop…closet…”

The episode ends in a very unfinished way, the city inspector came and even though the house was very clearly rotting, he didn’t specifically say that it needed to come down. Which I think is bullcrap. I want to know if they really did demolish her house. A&E doesn’t have any further information on her. I hope they’ll do a follow-up episode or something. Many people now benefit from the time savings they get from having a professional home cleaner in Blackpool.

Update on 9/19/2010: They tore Robin’s house down and fined her $10,000. I am pleased. Seriously, her house was like the most unsafe dwelling ever, aside from building your house on the tippity-tip of Niagara Falls.

Spam, wallpaper, and the Great Beetle Failure of ’10.

Friday, August 20th, 2010

1. I received a the best piece of spam ever today. I made me ever so happy.

I am a tickety-boo site. Don’t you wish you were a tickety-boo site? I bet you do.

2. I was watching Eminem’s new video which is supposed to be taking place in a crappy wood-paneled double-wide, and in one scene Megan Fox is getting beaten up by Dominic Monaghan and he puts his fist through the drywall in their living room and – hey, what’s up with that wallpaper?

I remember that wallpaper. I saw it on a design blog somewhere and I thought it was gorgeous and then I saw the price, which was $250 a roll and I was like, oooh, a little too rich for my blood. And now I’m supposed to believe a crappity trailer has that wallpaper in it? I think not. I could no longer suspend my disbelief. Bad set decorator. Baaaaaaad set decorator.

3. A while back I decided to incorporate different materials in my art, like eggshells and insect exoskeletons and tin cans, stuff like that. So recently I thought, hey, there are Japanese beetles everywhere, they’re not indigenous, they’re a scourge, I should collect their deceased bodies, remove their wing casings, and use it in my art. Here is a photo so you can appreciate their bronze-colored elytra.

So while I was in Massachusetts this weekend, I took my neighbor’s full bug bag. I brought it home, and yesterday Cricket and I opened it in the driveway. The good news: there were about 400 beetles in there. The bad news: they were actively rotting, all squishy and stinky. Gross. I asked Cricket what I should do. He decided I should go outside to his rose bushes in the morning, flick the drowsy beetles into a jar, put the jar in the freezer, and then remove their wing casings later in the day. I shouted, “Genius!” and went to bed. This morning I set the alarm for mad-early and when it went off, I went outside to capture my beetles. If you were Cricket’s neighbor and looking out your window at 7:15 this morning, this is what you would have seen: a sleepy woman wearing a crumpled t-shirt, her hair all jinky and unbrushed, her face all puffy, standing motionless outside with a jar in her hand, staring intently at a rosebush for ten minutes. If this was a movie, that would be the point when someone would come outside with a shawl, wrap it around my shoulders and lead me slowly inside while saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I have since learned that this wasn’t a dramatically bad season for Japanese beetles, and the season’s over now anyway. So to drown my sorrows I went on good ole eBay and found people selling environmentally-harvested beetle elytra, so I bought them. It wasn’t quite how I wanted this to go, but when life gives you lemons, you buy stuff online. Here’s what fifty bucks can get you – two of these sets (20 elytra total):

Two of these sets (20 elytra total):

And a pile of 200 random non-matching elytra.

They should be here next week. We’ll see if I can get them to do what I need them to do.

“We don’t pump our gas, we pump our fists!”*

Monday, July 19th, 2010

*lyrics from a Jersey-type dance song I heard recently. How fabulous are those lyrics, really?

I went to a Jersey Shore-themed party this weekend, and for those of you living under a rock, or perhaps behind it, there is a show on MTV about American-Italians who go to the Jersey Shore every summer. Let’s be polite: they have a distinct “look”.

There’s a great deal of hair care product and bronzer and tattoos and drinking and steroids and lasagna and house music. This show became insanely popular. So there were spinoffs, like Jerseylicious:

And Jersey Couture:

And suddenly these orange Oompa-Loompa people took over the world. So, many people have had Jersey Shore-themed parties this summer, and I went to one of them. And Lordy, I went all out. I got a Bump-It for my hair, and four-inch-high gold stilleto heels (I wore them for a total of 300 feet, from the car to the front door, then those shoes were OFF). I got bronzer to make my face all roasty-toasty-brown, and… well, see for yourself.

Cricket took that while we were stuck in traffic on the Cross Island Expressway with no air conditioning. And people in the other cars were laughing at me. I took a slightly better picture about fifteen minutes later, but you can’t appreciate the poofy hair.

I found it rather humorous how much, in the upper picture, I resemble Ursula from The Little Mermaid. Apparently it’s my destiny.