Light at the end of the tunnel

Finally, something to look forward to. From People.com

New Kids On The Block Stage Comeback

After months of speculation and rumor, the Kids are coming back. A well-placed source tells PEOPLE exclusively that New Kids On The Block are indeed getting back together.

It's about damn time... after scouring the South side of Boston last October in hopes of glimpsing Jonathan Knight, it's possible he will be on tour. Apparently his social-phobia is in hibernation and we're reaping the benefits!

Quick observation

Because of several work commitments both yesterday and today, I wasn't able to properly comment on the untimely passing of Heath Ledger. While I never really disliked the actor, he wasn't one of my favorites. I feel he always looked dirty, like he went several weeks in between showering and that he generally didn't smell very good. 

Not that there's anything wrong with that. However, if Heath suffered from depression which led to his alleged drug overdose, I have read studies stating those symptoms could've been lightened by a simple shower once or twice a day. From a site called Holistic Online, which isn't the best URL because it took me awhile to realize it was actually Holistic Online dot com and not Ho List Icon Line dot com, I found the following:

Take a Stimulating Shower: Start showering with warm water, gradually making it hotter. Then decrease the temperature as low as you can stand it. Cold water stimulates the nerves close to the surface of the skin and is rejuvenating. Do not do this if you have a serious illness or are pregnant, premenstrual, or menstruating.

Maybe Heath Ledger had a serious illness or was pregnant, premenstrual or menstruating and couldn't practice this anti-depression technique.

Faith in television...

Since the writer's strike has made television completely abysmal this season, I am beginning to wonder if there will ever be anything other than reality tv ever again. Not to say I don't love reality shows, because I am a reality junkie, but I do look forward to regular episodes of Grey's Anatomy and Gossip Girl. Just when I thought I'd lost faith in non-reality television, I noticed a trailer for a new show called Eli Stone featuring, ironically, George Michael singing the song "Faith" in the premiere episode.

According to abc.com, Eli Stone is a quirky little dramady about an attorney (played by Jonny Lee Miller, one of the alive loves of my life. Not to be confused with the dead loves of my life list which includes Gene Kelly, Andy Warhol, Dean Martin and Jimmy Stewart) who turns out to be a prophet. To paraphrase the description on the Web site, apparently Eli has hallucinations and visions and ultimately is torn between being a lawyer and saving humanity. In the end, we learn a brain aneurysm is causing Eli's visions and he is further torn between his head and his heart; caught between two ends of a moral spectrum between spiritualism and logic. 

This looks like a pretty good show, and maybe I've been watching a few too many old episodes of Ally McBeal, but it appears Eli Stone is borrowing a lot from the quirky 90s hit. First off, the title is the name of the lead character. Second, the hallucinations and visions seen through music reek of Ally's hallucinations (can we say dancing baby?), also the use of music as a driving force in ones' mind was a tactic used weekly in Ally McBeal. Third, in both shows we see a fairly eccentric, yet unbelievably hip and good-looking attorney as they fumble through each trying to find a balance between fighting the "lawyer as a shark" stereotype and inspiring people to "do the right thing."

I hope I haven't put too high an expectation on Eli Stone, as I will always be a die-hard Ally McBeal fan, but I'm looking forward to the premiere on January 31. Since Grey's Anatomy has been a complete let down this season (even before the writer's strike), maybe this new show will give me the Thursday night fix I so richly crave. I am also looking forward to watching Jonny Lee Miller watching George Michael singing in the living room:

You're Killing Me!

Unless you've spent the weekend inside a refrigerator box, you're probably aware that Lindsay Lohan will be spending a little time working in the LA County morgue to use up some of that nasty public service time she got sentenced with her drunk driving arrest. Upon learning this (from a crawler at the bottom of the screen when I was drowning my sorrows in a Girls Next Door marathon on E!) I actually audibly laughed, then wondered, "What will Lindsay do in the morgue? Seriously?"

I envisioned Lindsay putting makeup on the cadavers, accessorizing outfits for the newly deceased, maybe stopping to take a hit or two of formaldehyde; then I started obsessing, "What will Lindsay do in the morgue?" I can't imagine the work a morgue worker could create for an untrained child star with a propensity for drinks, drugs and fast driving. In fact, if I were a creepy morgue worker, I wouldn't want a Disney Channel princess messing up my dead people. 

After a Google search of morgue, I got scared, and quit reading about decomposition and autopsies.

Then I found it, I found the perfect job for Lindsay Lohan-- The Los Angeles County Coroner's Office (morgue) where Lindsay will do her time has a gift shop! A gift shop! What better place for Lindsay to work than in retail? It's like Kitson for valley girls no longer walking this mortal coil! Let LiLo explain the fashionable benefits of purchasing a "Women's Fitted Tee" (Features "L.A. County Coroner" and "Body Logo" on front chest area, imprinted in silver glitter) or model a yellow sports bag featuring the Coroner's logo like the little Gold's Gym rat that she was last summer while trying to get through rehab in Utah County...

As much as I can't wait to see blackmail-worthy pictures of Lindsay elbow-deep in corpse goop, I am now far more disturbed that any coroner's office would have a gift shop. And to all my friends, I know what I'm getting you for Christmas next year.

Saving the Earth

Since I work for an organization which promotes eco-friendly, "green" behavior, I have been trying to do my part to help out the planet. I feel it's my duty to practice what I preach; I don't leave the water running while I brush my teeth, I have changed my light bulbs from standard bulbs to compact florescent bulbs, hell, I even remember to put recycling in the blue cans.

This is a big deal for me. A couple of years ago, I thought, "What I do doesn't make a difference." But it really does. Just one person making a conscious decision to do just one simple thing really can help the planet.

I have just discovered one more thing to add to my planet-helping plan: 360 Vodka. The first eco-friendly vodka. The distilling uses environmentally conscious methods and packaging whenever possible, and even chooses to use eco-friendly marketing materials. Not to mention the bottle is make from post-consumer waste and recycled glass and they donate profits back to environmental organizations.

Now, being green is even easier! And eco-friendly vodka certainly makes me want to toast a Cosmopolitan to Mother Earth.

The train wreck continues

...and it was everything I thought it would be.

After a month of looking forward to Rock of Love 2 with Bret Michaels, I was not disappointed. There were all the trashy women, strippers and idiots we have all come to expect when tuning into a show such as this. I found myself glued to the entire hour, every passing minute wondering, "Why am I watching this?" But I couldn't pull myself away. 

Seriously, who are these women in the world who throw themselves at Bret Michaels, not caring if some other slam-pig slipped him the tongue just ten seconds before? I am fascinated by this phenomenon; that women think all they have to do is audition for a reality show and suddenly they've made something out of themselves.

I'm all for healthy competition, however after viewing what's in store for the upcoming season, I just don't know if I can soberly watch this show. Greased pig competition? Mud football? Peep show talents? And yet I perpetuate the reality show viewership.

Gotta' go. The new and improved American Gladiators starts in two minutes. 

IT WILL NOT BURN!

Many years ago, usually during a punch-drunk closing of the store where we worked, a co-worker friend and I would joke about the infomercial for the buckwheat husk heating pads. The idea about the pillow is that you can put it in the microwave and heat it up so you've got a nice, toasty moist heat without catching on fire in the middle of the night if you fall asleep in bed with an electric heating pad.

On said infomercial, the heavily-accented man kept saying "Buckwheat husk, IT WILL NOT BURN!"

To which the woman standing next to him in the infomercial said, "But what if it burns me?"

"IT WILL NOT BURN!" the man forcefully repeated.

Since the buckwheat husk heating pads were infomercial fodder, it came as no surprise that my mother felt inclined to order several years ago, which was great the other night when I remembered I owned these things. A particularly strenuous dance class combined with lifelong bad dancing knees and a winter storm high-pressure system left me unable to even get upstairs. I thought, "IT WILL NOT BURN!" and threw two of the amazing things into the microwave before I settled into some couch time. Five minutes made them hot, but not so hot that they lasted through some television shows, so when I was getting ready for bed I decided I'd double the time and nuke the bastards for ten minutes.

Midway through brushing my teeth I noticed that the buckwheat husk was filling my apartment with a delightful organic and slightly lawn-ish scent. By the time I finished brushing my teeth, I thought, "Wow, the buckwheat husk. It smells like burn... shit!" I ran downstairs and saw that the buckwheat husk had ignited in the microwave and though the filler itself "WILL NOT BURN!" the material covering the outside most certainly "WILL FREAKING BECOME TINDER!"

After a few choice words, I threw open the microwave door, grabbed the smoldering buckwheat husk* by the handy carrying ropes, opened the front door and launched the damn thing into the snow. Damn you, buckwheat husk guy! 'Lo these many years later, I called your your bluff and you "WILL TOO BURN!" Now, where's my "unsafe" electric heating pad?

*For the record, this incident ended better than the time I attempted frying wontons and ended up evacuating all of the Gateway Apartments (including the mall) on Super Bowl Sunday a few years ago.

Congrats!

...to my friend Kelly, who just got published in Pearl, a literary magazine. I've known Kelly since middle school and am thrilled that we're still in touch and encouraging each other on our talents and writings. Go to the site and order yours now because when she's famous you'll wish you did.

She constantly inspires me to write (even outside this blog, go figure!) and with her kind suggestions I might even pull my head out of my ass and submit some of my own writing someday. Until then, I live vicariously... Congratulations!

"Scent"sory overload

Tonight was my monthly trek to Bath and Body Works, mostly because the yummy-smelling Wallflowers I have scenting my house, the same that I paid full price for less than a month ago, were on sale for only $5. In addition, many of the body sprays I have scenting my person, the same that I paid full price for less than a month ago, were on sale too.

As I walked through the store, dodging "helpful" salespeople who were bound and determined to spray me with smells I'd find in bordello, I settled on a few purchases and trudged up to the counter to pay. If I was going to pay full price for everything less than a month ago, I was bound and determined to pick up on a few sales tonight. (This also makes me a sucker just like everyone else who paid full price for the holidays and was also bound and determined to "save" now.) I even managed to make it to the counter without the scent of dirty hooker emanating from my pulse points.

As I've lamented before, I have one of those faces, I guess, that makes people want to talk to me and divulge things I'd rather not know. Tonight, it happened again.

Lady at the counter: Oooh, Wallflowers. These really make your house smell really good.

Me: Yep.

Lady at the counter: I have a broccoli-eating dog.

Me:

Lady at the counter: I mean, he really eats a lot of that stuff.

Me:

Lady at the counter: Sends you right out of the room.

Me:

Since it's the post-holiday retail lull I can only imagine the BBW had their B-team working tonight, but something inside made me wish for a spray to make people disappear.

Every rose...

On cold days like today, I have Bret Michaels to keep me warm... warm with laughing. While I've never been a fan of Poison and was "like, totally a new waver" in the 80s, I've been mildly amused at VH1's "Rock of Love" with Bret Michaels. Thank goodness they're doing another season, and we will all have a train wreck to watch once again.

A co-worker sent me this video today, and she's right, the chick in the beginning does look like Charlie Sheen in a wig. Even better, a quick Wikipedia search of Every Rose has its Thorn gives heartfelt information like the following:

Vocalist Bret Michaels wrote the song in response to a failed love affair with a Los Angeles stripper. Poison had been playing at a cowboy bar called "The Ritz" in Dallas, Texas. After the show, Michaels called the woman at her apartment and heard a man's voice in the background. Heartbroken, Michaels wrote the song with an acoustic guitar in a laundromat.

Guess that's what you get for falling for a stripper, right Bret? I do hope they use this song again in the new "Rock of Love" season because they played it in the first season when Bret chose Jes after kicking stripper Heather to the curb. Then Jes kicked him to the curb when she didn't hear from him for six months and she decided to go back to her boyfriend in Chicago.

I'm a pop culture slut.

Merry Christmas to all

This was one of the mellowest Christmas days I've had in my entire life. All month I've told people, "I just want my long winter's nap," and today I got it.

Nevermind I was probably a bit sleepy from all the "Holly Jollys" I concocted for my mom and I last night (a top-secret combination of pomegranate and cranberry juices along with Absolut Citron and a splashy grenadine topper), but I didn't want to do anything. I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted today to be a normal day. I think there is too much pressure put upon festivities and cheerfulness because that's what we're supposed to do; that's what we're conditioned to do from the time we are kids and we wake up at 4 in the morning to find what Santa brought us. (Unless you were me, and woke up at 2:30 in the morning if my parents had forgotten to give me my very own holiday Benadryl to keep me asleep.)

Christmas used to be filled with people and music and rushing from place to place, generally ending with my dad's band playing at a club. That club doesn't exist anymore either, the dark windows symbolizing more to me than any building owner could know. Today, I exorcised demons and dust bunnies and threw away dried roses from ghosts of relationships past. I hung up all the coats I'd been too lazy the past month to properly put away, and amazingly enough, I discovered I have dining room chairs that shouldn't have been coat racks for so long. 

Things have changed. My new holiday book I read today is Tim Burton's The Melancholy Story of Oyster Boy and Other Stories and I learned that "Stick Boy's festive season" ends up ashes like mine has. I think this is the coming year to rebuild my mojo, but first realizing today is a day just like any other day. Pretending to be festive when unbelievably sad is less comforting than imaginable, and finally admitting this has been cathartic. Last year I forced myself into a painted smile under curled hair, and this year, losses have sunk in much deeper. I'm finding out the abject permanence of life after we're left here flailing around. While situations haven't seemed real in the past 14 months, I'm learning this is the way it is.

Most years I've watched the holiday movies and played the music of the season, but this is the year to curl up and take those pressures off my mind. I watched Creepshow and laughed how I've never done any conventionally, and the holiday this year seems to have typified that. I know I will be okay, I know I will get through this, but why the hell does it have to hurt so much?

Something to look forward to

What big mountains you have

I was doing my nightly check of sciencedaily.com before bed and the article entitled Mountains Discovered on Titan, Saturn's Largest Moon piqued my interest. Unfortunately it was quickly overshadowed by the ultra-sassy photo accompanying it:

BYU professor Jani Radebaugh stands in front of an image of Titan taken with the Cassini Visual and Infrared Mapping Spectrometer (VIMS) instrument. "Bright features generally correspond to features of high topography, such as the mountains seen by the Radar instrument, and dark materials generally correspond to large dune fields made of organic particles," Radebaugh explains. "Thus, the rocky highlands are interspersed among the sand 'seas,' similar to Earth's continents and oceans." (Credit: Image courtesy of Brigham Young University)

While the article was extremely interesting and, after further reading, a giant step forward in understanding just how Earth was created, specifically in relation to the creation of Utah's mountains, I couldn't help but wonder why professor Radebaugh was posing like she was a member of the cast of Gossip Girl. If this is one of the first times an image of Titan was introduced into NASA's studies, why would we not see a picture of, oh I don't know, Titan?

Tomorrow we'll find a photo of the BYU professor clad in a cute tennis frock serving a three-love match on Saturn's rings. The day after that, we'll see Professor Radebaugh snowboarding through ice on Mars. The next day, perhaps, modeling a Victoria's Secret Canterbury nightdress while lounging in the ethereal gas giant of Uranus.

Would we ever see a picture of a male scientist posed in such a way? Nope. The typical arms folded, thoughtfully chewing on the glasses earpiece comes to mind there. In this case little Jani's Fergalicious Glamour Magazine cover pose overshadows and discredits the scientific breakthrough.

Workin' out

I found a new dance class last week that I'm obsessed about. It's called Zumba, the newest craze that's a mix of Latin, hip hop and high-intensity cardio steps. On the other hand, if I were in Japan, I might find a different kind of workout that might burn calories too:

Our love is here to stay?

Yesterday somewhere between a ginormous brunch at Sundance and a bottle of wine with my mom, I watched one of my favorite films, An American in Paris, and really realized how times have changed. I mean, this is no shock since the film came out in the mid-50s. It boggles my mind to think on what's come out since then: Lean Cuisine, diet soda, internet porn-- all the important things on which we've come to rely.

There is a scene in An American in Paris which was probably very romantic at the time, where Gene Kelly (who is the number three love of my life only behind Dean Martin and Jimmy Stewart) seemed the quintessential leading man in search of his love, but a scene I found particularly creepy now. Actions that simply would not fly in this time of technology and, well, stalking laws.

Let me summarize, Gene Kelly ends up at a bar with this chick who is quickly becoming his sugar-mama. While there, he ends up seeing a very French Leslie Caron from afar and all but kidnaps her to dance with him. (sidebar: I'm not a fan of Leslie Caron, and never have been. I much prefer the Gene Kelly/ Cyd Charisse pairings from both Brigadoon and Singing in the Rain and I also hated Caron in Gigi. Actually, I hate the movie Gigi.) The next day Kelly, still thinking of the lovely Caron, invades her privacy by dropping her an unwanted phone call while she's working at the perfume shop. Caron hangs up on him, telling him never to call her again.

Not taking the blatant hint, Kelly goes to her work to find her, woo her, then further annoy her. He finds her at work! Right at the perfume shop! The "Pop-In." This is not romantic. This is creepy. This is behavior exhibited by people who have addictions to things. This is not action of someone who respects the woman's wishes to be left alone.

I was watching this and getting mad at Gene Kelly. "How can you do this, Gene?" I asked the TV out loud. "How can you completely disrespect her wishes and continue to bother her time and time and time again?"

I continued, "You're a nice guy, Gene, a very nice guy. You're also a snappy dancer. But leave the poor girl alone if she doesn't want to talk to you. You're not a psycho, but you're acting like one."

If this were in today's world, I daresay Gene Kelly would be one jazz-step away from putting the lotion in the basket. Like all movies at that time, this relationship finally ended with a happy feel-good button and an old-time song and dance. Things I just don't see happening in this jaded world of 2007.

Take on me

There are ways to make a good impression, and ways to not make a good impression. I'll just let this one speak for itself:

Him: What was the first concert you went to?

Me: Ummm, A-Ha. The "Take on Me" concert. It was sponsored by Prell Shampoo.

Him: No way! That's awesome! What year?

Me: (Sadly, without thinking) 1985.

Him: Bwaaaahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! I was two!

First off, I was 10, not 25. They were my favorite band, because I was 10. I got free tickets from KCPX radio and my parents took me. Secondly, the reaction made me feel like I was a groupie, had German sex with the three members of A-ha, then somehow did Simon LeBon and Falco too. 

...or maybe I'm just highly sensitive this time of year.

Merry ho ho

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper, the more creative, the better. With good bows.
2. Real tree or artificial? Artificial, with only white lights. I hate colored lights. I even only like white bubble lights. No colors. None.
3. When do you put up the tree? I haven't for a few years. I'm not festive this time of year anymore.
4. When do you take the tree down? I think the last time I put one up I managed to forget about it until sometime in July.
5. Do you like eggnog? Yes. With rum. Or just rum. Plain.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Dancerella
7. Do you have a nativity scene? No. They scare me.
8. Hardest person to buy for? People I don't know well. I like to get pretty personalized, "special" gifts.
9. Easiest person to buy for? My dad. Sooooo, yeah.
10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? A blender from a boyfriend. I never want to get appliances from a boyfriend again.
11. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail if I think about it. Like I said, I haven't been festive for a few years.
12. Favorite Christmas movie? National Lampoons' Christmas Vacation and Scrooged
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas ? Just before I start to feel overwhelmed.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yes, generally it's one of those generic, neighborhood "hot chocolate in a cup" kind of gifts.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Shrimp and margaritas. We used to always do "shrimp-fest" for Christmas. And margaritas. Lots and lots of margaritas.
16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? See number 2. ONLY clear lights. Ever. Ever.
17. Favorite Christmas song? Good King Wenceslas, a jazz saxophone version.
18. Travel for Christmas or stay home? I used to like to stay home, now I like to travel as far away as schedule allows.
19. Can you name all of Santa's' reindeer? Yes. Even after a few beers.
20. Angel on the treetop or a star? Pink flamingo.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Open presents Christmas Eve. Drink. Sleep in Christmas morning.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? Wanting to feel festive, but not really feeling festive.
23. What I love most about Christmas? It doesn't last all year.

And we thought the snow was bad...

When I was a traffic reporter, I lived for the days something a bit out of the ordinary would happen. I relished whenever I would see "Moose on the Loose" or "Car on Fire" on my traffic script, and it was like Christmas on the one day I actually got to report a 10-80somethng; "Airplane Landing on Freeway." Particularly snowy days were another story. They basically entailed picking the worst clusters on the freeway, then eventually telling folks to "stay home." But when I saw this picture, I had to laugh because it reminded me of the times I wanting more from my traffic script than "Crash."

Since I'm a news junkie (for many reasons) I found this particularly funny. It's from a station in California, so I'm fairly confident that nothing like this would ever happen in the Land of Zion.

Still, there are apparently worse things to happen to the roads than the current wind, ice and snow we're seeing right now:

Separated at birth?

As I'm ditching the gym for the Top Chef: Holiday Special and Grey's Anatomy tonight, I couldn't help but think of two more people separated at birth.

Top Chef's Marcel and Spike, the evil gremlin, from Gremlins. I even like Marcel because of his quirky overconfidence and his ability to make an edible foam out of vienna sausage. But the resemblance is too uncanny.

It's funny because it's true.

Bad Senior Portraits

I got in a conversation tonight about how I was a little freaky-deaky as a high school Senior. I wore glasses, I played in the band and I felt horribly awkward. Looking back on my pictures, I realized I was still fun and cute-- and I only wish I could've realized that then.

It got me thinking about high school kids now. They all look so... old. It's either media influence or growth hormone build-up after years of fast food, but girls definitely look way more mature now than they did when I was in high school. Hell, I'm still waiting for my breasts to grow.

That brings me to a little search I did of high school Senior portraits which left me thinking, "What the hell?"

This girl is a high school senior? What was it I said about girls looking way more mature than I ever did when I was in high school?

Somewhere, High School Musical is missing Corbin Bleu. All the hip kids are doing it.

This pose does not make this baseball player cool. Baseball players are already cool without having to act like Wild Thing in Major League. He is going to look back at this and think, "I thought I was sooo cool. Turns out, notsomuch."

Shortly after this picture was taken, Snidley Whiplash came by and tied her up, yet, Dudley DoRight never came to her rescue.

What is it with posing these girls on the train tracks? I feel like they're all destined to jump into a car and join the circus.

Finally, this girl is going to graduate high school with a 3.9 average, go to a liberal arts college and regularly smoke cloves outside of a radio station. She reminds me of me.