No PopCast for this week, as I am up to my backside in moving. Instead, today we'll tackle a topic I've been meaning to get to for months, and ask a question for the ages.
Do I sound too gay when I sing "Midnight Train To Georgia?"
Girlfriend Kimberly responds in a definite affirmative, and says it just sounds downright odd when I perform it without changing the pronouns. I, on the other hand, grew up wanting to be a Pip and feel like it should be done in the traditional manner.
Side note, I really did want to be a Pip. I didn't realize it was a family title, I was hoping it was either a job I could apply for, or possibly an elected office.
Anyway, here's the song. The PopCast will return next week, assuming I can find and unpack it.
Catching up on some television over the weekend, I think I've hit upon why real life is so frustrating. There are things that happen all the time on television that just don't happen to us in real life.
Cars Exploding - I've mentioned this one before, but cars explode on every single cop and detective show on TV. Every week, a dozen cars go up in a giant fireball. I've never seen one, not even once. I feel like I've been gypped.
People Angrily Leaving a Restaurant Without Eating - This happens a lot, especially in romantic comedies. there's a meal, the food is served, and then someone gets upset and storms out. I don't think I've ever been angry enough to leave without eating. And for that matter, who's paying for that meal? I don't care how angry you get during the appetizer, most maitre d' are instructed to tackle you if you try to leave without paying for that prime rib you ordered.
Overturning A Table - Here's another one. I've been waiting for somebody to get in an argument and flip a table ever since I saw Duran Duran's "Rio" video. Doesn't happen in real life, at least not on purpose.
Phone Manners - Nobody ever says "good-bye" on the phone. They just hang up and walk off. I can't help but imagine the person on the other end of that call saying "Hello? Hello? Why, you rude bastard!"
Paternity Tests - I've never known anybody who needed one except Anna Nicole Smith, but there's one a month on soap operas. And also, every paternity test is wrong. Every single one is compromised. No soap opera fan was surprised when OJ was acquitted,because they're used to things always being wrong.
Haircuts - No one every gets a haircut in an episode, nor does anyone's hair ever change from episode to episode unless it's a plot point.
Groceries in Paper Bags - I know as viewers, we have to see that somebody's bought groceries. Apparently we're too stupid to know that unless we see the characters walking in with the same type of grocery-carrying-apparatus that June Cleaver used forty years ago. To heck with recycling.
I'll freely admit it, I'm a dog person. Having a cat has been a new experience for me, and while I certainly do enjoy your softness and companionship, taking you in has raised some questions.
I'm unfamiliar with cats, are you supposed to sleep 32 hours a day? I worry about you to the point where I'm considering bringing home mice from the pet shop just to see if you'll wake up.
In the stores, there are all sorts of toys and climbing materials for cats. Why don't you ever do anything like that? I bought you a jingly toy and you just looked at me like I was an idiot. Is there anything else I can bring home you might enjoy, like a rubber mouse or a Rubic's Cube?
After a few weeks of having to sweep a half-mile radius around your litter box, I get it. You need a bigger place to poop. I'll take care of it. How an animal so finicky she barely eats can lay more poop than a rabid wolverine, I'll never know, but I'll keep sweeping.
You know those pointy things on your front feet? You should probably be aware you can retract those any time you want to. When you get them stuck in the couch, or the blanket, or the carpet, you don't have to sit there pulling and flopping like you've been glued to the ground.
Thank you so much for the cameo appearance you put in every night in my bed. Each night as I lay down and you hop on the bed, I feel so warmed by your love and devotion. Then thirty seconds later when you climb out from under my loving hands, jump down and run off, I wonder why I couldn't get the cat from the commercials.
I assure you, I really enjoy scratching you behind your ears in that spot you like. However, your insistence on laying down two inches away from my reach just baffles me. I'm used to dogs, which are veritable fountains of attention and affection, so I apologize if I'm not reading your signals correctly.
I should also assure you I have learned my lesson, and will not attempt to whistle for you or snap my fingers to get you to "come" ever again.
I'd like to welcome a new sponsor here to Reid About It.com. This week's blogs are brought to you by Designs By Appletree. DbA designs and makes cool necklaces out of scrabble tiles.
No, seriously. That's what I thought when I first heard about it, but they really look cool.
Check out the website here. She's having a sale, buy three necklaces and the fourth one is free, but I can do even better than that. If you order from them by next Friday (5/9/08) and mention ReidAboutIt.com in your payment, you'll get free shipping. Just tell them I sent you. Enjoy!
The PopCast is back, this week touching on such varying topics as Hannah Montana, Big Brother, and Iron Man. Oh, and also how Robert Downey Jr, the Rasputin of Hollywood, is living proof that women are irresistibly drawn to guys who are no good for them.
Greater detail and even more sarcasm available on the PopCast.
I had several other things I wanted to write about today, but I woke up consumed with something. Yesterday a song came on my car radio that I hadn't heard since it came out long ago.
Unfortunately, it was by Jewel.
For those of you who may not remember, Jewel was a pretty little former van-sleeping Alaskan singer whose trademark was writing the same kind of awful poetry normally embraced by creepy weird chicks with leghair who live in the dorms for all four years of college.
One of her songs came on, and I made the mistake of listening to it. Twice last night, I awoke in utter absolute feverish confusion, with her song in my mind.
My hands are small I know But they're not yours they are my own They're not yours they are my own And I am never broken
What the Hell was she talking about?
Eh? "They're not yours they are my own"? Well, if it makes no sense, say it twice, that'll straighten everything up. Whose hands are you talking about? Was there a doubt as to which hands you were referring to at the end of your arms?
She goes on to refer to praying, and being God's eyes, hands, and mind. So they're God's hands?
No. They're still her hands. And she's pretty fervent about it, because she says the same thing eight times in the song.
"If I could tell the world just one thing It would be that we're all OK And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful"
Apparently, Jewel was truly inspired by the philosophical musings of Bobby McFerrin.
This was Jewel's last popular song, except for "Intuition", which I believe was actually a love song written about a razor.
We're missing a golden opportunity here, we should translate her poetry, and drop it into Iraq. If we can get an Arabic version of lines like "poverty stole your golden shoes," they'll be so confused, we can control the country without loss of life.
I was out doing some shopping yesterday, and I stopped in the bathroom at one of the stores. When I walked in one of the stalls, I realized it was only about as wide as my shoulders. The door latch didn't fit and wouldn't fasten, and when I bumped the toilet paper hoder, the entire mechanism fell off onto the floor.
As I was fleeing the hamper-sized stall, I stopped to wash my hands. The automatic water worked only long enough for me to get my hands soapy, then would not engage again, leaving me waving my hands frantically like I was directing a plane on to the runway. I turned to leave, only to find the automatic hand dryer was set at an angle that required me to bump my hands on the wall to get it to turn on.
And where was I, experiencing this modern marvel of short-sighted planning and inconvenient toiletry?
Lowe's.
Let's build something together, Lowe's. Let's start with an outhouse for practice, and once we've got the plans together we can try and move it inside.
Saturday, 7:30 a.m. - - A predraft catastrophe occurs when the hair of Mel Kiper, Draft Expert is damaged in transit. Luckily, a strike team consisting of a stylist, a makeup artist, and an arc welder are on hand to avert the tragedy.
2:00 p.m. - ESPN's official coverage of the draft begins, as opposed to the unofficial coverage they've been immersed in for the last two weeks.
2:01 p.m. - NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell welcomes us all to the the NFL Draft, telling everyone that the new "streamlined" format of the draft will make things go quicker. That's a good thing, since last year's draft finished during the halftime show of Super Bowl XLII.
2:02 p.m. - Goodell launches right in, announcing the Dolphins pick of Jake Long as the number one pick. To show his approval, Miami's Bill Parcells smiles so briefly, it can only be seen in HD.
2:10 p.m. - ESPN analyst Steve Young says the St. Louis Rams lack heart, and says that Jerry Rice brought heart to his 49ers teams of the 90's. Young has now officially crossed the line from thoughtful analyst to the bitter, doddering old "back in my day" guy. He then calls Chris Long "Chris Young," tells a rambling story about George Seifert's driving, and leaves to go take a nap.
2:12 p.m. - The Rams select Chris Long, son of Howie Long.
2:13 p.m. - The Raiders attempt to select Howie Long, father of Chris Long. Raiders owner Al Davis justifies the decision by saying Howie would "look good in black and silver."
2:14 p.m. - A cutaway shot of Chris Long shows him being interviewed by the NFL Network's Deion Sanders. This serves the twofold purpose of a) reminding football fans everywhere that the NFL Network is also providing draft day coverage, and b) reminding football fans that they don't want to watch it, because Deion Sanders is on it.
2:16 p.m. - A video recap of the past year for the Atlanta Falcons airs, leading Falcons fans to weep like they've just watched a double bill of "Steel Magnolias" and "Terms of Endearment."
2:18 p.m. - ESPN provides a close up of analyst Keyshawn Johnson, who is wearing a pinstriped suit, plaid shirt, and pink polka dotted tie. ESPN HD viewers everywhere throw up.
2:19 p.m. - The Falcons select quarterback Matt Ryan. Somewhere, Michael Vick's cellmate offers to cheer him up by shanking a prison guard for him.
2:27 p.m. - ESPN analysts discuss running back Darren McFadden's past, including character concerns, nightclub altercations, and paternity suit problems.
2:28 p.m. - Raiders owner Al Davis responds, "You had me at character concerns," and drafts McFadden.
2:35 p.m. - ESPN analyst Wendy Nix in Kansas City announces the Chiefs want to trade their pick, and will take the entire ten minutes before selecting a player.
2:36 p.m. - The Chiefs, who clearly weren't listening, draft Glenn Dorsey less than sixty seconds after Nix makes her report.
2:37 p.m. - Steve Young talks about Dorsey's "heart," then slips away to drink a cup of hot tea with this month's Reader's Digest.
2:44 p.m. - With the Jets on the clock, New York fans in attendance boo. No reason, just warming up.
2:46 p.m. - The Jets take defensive end Vernon Gholston, and Jets fans break out in hearty cheers that last nearly a minute, until they notice New England has the next pick and start booing again.
2:50 p.m. - ESPN has to use on-screen graphics to explain how last year, the New England Patriots somehow wound up trading draft picks for Randy Moss and losing their first round draft pick for cheating, yet somehow still wound up almost undefeated and have the seventh overall pick.
2:52 p.m. - The Patriots make another monster trade, sending their pick to New Orleans. In exchange, evil genius Bill Belichick gets the Saints next pick, a pick next year, and Harry Connick Junior.
2:57 p.m. - A flurry of trade fever breaks out, as the Jaguars trade up to get defensive end Derrick Harvey. Baltimore swaps with them in exchange for four draft picks, Keyshawn Johnson's polka dot tie, and a top secret ABC memo that explains what's happening on "Lost."
3:08 p.m. - Cincinnati goes on the clock, and selects linebacker Keith Rivers. Analyst Ron Jaworski says he's a player that can "blow up the running back," which is one of the few crimes that haven't yet been associated with the Bengals.
3:16 p.m. - An onscreen graphic shows the Buffalo Bills were 30th in the league in offense, and 31st in defense. The Bills top secret draft folder holds a single piece of paper that says "Draft Needs: Everything."
3:37 p.m. - The Chicago Bears select offensive lineman Chris Williams in an attempt to keep their stable of awful quarterbacks conscious.
3:43 p.m. - With their first round pick, the Detroit Lions draft a wide receiver. Ha-HA! Just kidding. The Lions break with tradition, and just trade the pick rather than screw it up.
3:50 p.m. - An on-screen graphic indicates Arizona's 8-8 finish last year was their best season since 1998, thus reminding Cardinal fans their team has completed their decade-long march back to mediocrity.
3:55 p.m. - The Cardinals draft Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie, a player who sounds like a top choice in the WNBA.
4:04 p.m. - The Ravens draft quarterback Joe Flacco, who Mel Kiper, Draft Expert refers to as "an athlete." Detroit Lions general manager Matt Millen sends an assistant to research whether that's important or not.
4:30 p.m. - The Dallas Cowboys go on the clock. ESPN mentions that the Cowboys trade for frequently arrested cornerback Pacman Jones is complete, thus simultaneously exciting fans and terrifying strippers all over the Dallas area.
4:39 p.m. - With the loss of running back Julius Jones, the Cowboys elect to replace him. After considering Davey Jones, Jesus Jones, Quincy Jones, and Blackbelt Jones, Dallas settles on Felix Jones.
5:10 p.m. - The Texans make their pick, which they obtained from Baltimore, who got it from Jacksonville, who won it on "Deal or No Deal."
5:35 p.m. - The first round ends with the perfect storm of NFL fanship, as the New York Jets and Giants have back-to-back picks. When the crowd realizes New York gets the final two selections because the Patriots forfeited their pick for cheating, the fans begin what can be described as the world's most overweight, alcoholic victory dance.
Previous NFL Draft Timelines: 2007: Brady Quinn goes into lockdown. 2006: Reggie becomes New Orleans' favorite Bush. 2005: Funny nicknames and falling QBs. 2004: The Great Manning controversy. 2003: The Bengals remain on the clock. 2002: David Carr's biomechanics are questioned. 2001: Ryan Leaf makes Michael Vick a Falcon. 2000: Janikowski, baby. 1999: The Saints give it all for Ricky. Even funnier in retrospect, eh?
Some times, I really have to think about what to discuss on the PopCast. Then some days, right when I'm getting ready to record a PopCast Wesley Snipes gets three years for tax evasion. Que sara, sara.
Greater detail and even more sarcasm available on the PopCast.
There's an internet list going around right now trying to list, in great detail, the worst songs of all time. Never one to resist ripping off a pop culture idea, I thought I'd chime in here with my own personal favorite least favorites.
One caveat, though. Quite often, these kind of lists just become chances to bash songs that once were popular. Nobody thinks "Ice Ice Baby" or "Achy Breaky Heart" were songs that would stand the test of time. They came, they sucked, they sold millions, they were gone, and we were all embarrassed about liking it for a little while. Don't get preachy about how bad they were when they were disposable in the first place.
For example, Hanson's "Mmm-Bop". Nobody wants to relive Hanson's three weeks of popularity, true, but that has to be one of the best pop song hooks I've ever heard. Don't hate something just because it's popular. Unless it sucks.
Here's my quick rules. No cover songs. Generally speaking, no country, rap, or anything else that's supposed to be stupid in the first place.
Reid's Worst Songs Of All Time
Elton John - "Your Song" "If I was a sculptor/but then again, no" Then why even mention it? You know, Mr. Taupin, there's something on the other end of your pencil called an eraser. And if you don't like a line, you can just erase it. Or even just scratch it out. You don't have to actually have to keep it in the final draft of the song.
Steve Miller Band - "Take The Money And Run" "Billy Mack is a detective down in Texas/You know he knows just exactly what the facts is/He ain't gonna let those two escape justice/He makes his livin' off of the people's taxes" If Billy Shakespeare had murdered rhyme schemes like Steve Miller did, every Lit class would be two weeks shorter.
Paul Simon - "50 Ways To Leave Your Lover" "Just slip out the back, Jack/Make a new plan, Stan/You don't need to be coy, Roy" I'm a big fan of Paul Simon, and I think most of this song is really well-written. But the laundry list of rhyming names just makes me cringe. Just shut the fuck up, Buck.
Wang Chung - "Everybody Have Fun Tonight" "Everybody have fun tonight/Everybody Wang Chung tonight" Not only was this song a complete turnaround from their other songs ("Dancing Days", "To Live And Die In LA"), it also breaks my #1 rock and roll rule. Don't name check your own band in one of your songs.
Def Leppard - "Let's Get Rocked" "He said mow the lawn/Walk the dog/Take out the trash/Tidy your room/Sorry dad, gotta disappear/Let's get the rock out of here" This is my rock and roll rule #2. Don't sing about being in school or your dad hassling you if you're in your thirties. This also applies to Stray Cats "She's Sexy & 17", and Extreme's "Mutha (Don't Want To Go To School Today)".
Like Steely Dan said, never go back to your old school.
Ram Jam - "Black Betty" No lyrics need to be included here. It's got harmonized guitar solos, a drum break, and the refrain "bam-a-lam." What more could you have for an over-the-top 70's song?
Huey Lewis & The News - "Walking On A Thin Line" "Taught me how to shoot to kill/A specialist with a deadly skill/A skill I needed to have to be a survivor/It's over now or so they say/Well, sometimes, it don't turn out that way/Cause your never the same when you've been under fire" Huey led the 80's with inoffensive pop music that was only occasionally ripped off by Ray Parker Jr. So why not get socially conscious once in a while, and do a song about the plight of Vietnam vets? This is the equivalent of Rage Against The Machine covering "My Humps."
Beach Boys - "Kokomo" "Aruba, Jamaica, Ooh I want to take you" Bad to start with, but after Natalie Hollowell, just creepy.
John Mayer - "Your Body Is A Wonderland" "Your body is a wonderland/Your body is a wonder aarrccg grgg gllgg hands" What? Huh? Enunciate, dammit!
Young MC - "Bust A Move" "Your best friend Harry has a brother Larry/In five days from now he's gonna marry/He's hopin' you can make it there if you can/'Cause in the ceremony you'll be the best man" This is so vague, it always throws me off. Who's getting married? Is it your best friend Harry, or is brother Larry? If it's Larry, why would you be his best man, when your best friend isn't Larry, it's his brother? And if it's Harry, why wouldn't he choose his brother Larry for his best man?
There are far far too many others to list as dishonorable mentions, but I'd love to hear your own favorites.
It's been a heck of weekend for CNN. First, anchor Richard Quest got arrested in Central Park for loitering and possession of meth. The report says he had meth in his pocket, a sex toy in his boot, and a rope around his neck that was tied to his genitals.
I've never heard of anything like this. Ever. I guess I grew up in a better neighborhood than I thought. The notion of lassoing up my old John Hancock and tying it around my neck never even occurred to me as something that might be pleasurable, much less the notion to lace 'em up and do-si-do down to the local park.
Anyway, while CNN was trying to figure out some way to make that story not quite as creepy as it really was, then another one of their talking heads almost causes an international incident.
Commentator Jack Cafferty called China's products "junk" and its leaders a "bunch of goons and thugs," sparking a wave of protests and calls for his firing.
I guess when you export a few million dollars worth of lead-painted children's toys and poisoned dog food, suddenly you're the bad guy, eh?
Anyway, CNN is having a bad week. I'll bet the head of the network is afraid to answer his phone right now. He'd probably get the news that Anderson Cooper just fell into a volcano, and Larry King just ate a guy.
The new Popcast is up, a smorgasbord of random pop culture ramblings. This week, it's "Lost," the Olympics, home repair TV, and the phrase "cornucopia of dumbassery." I don't have much of an attention span these days, I suppose.
Greater detail and even more sarcasm available on the PopCast.
The great adventure known as "House Quest '08" continues, as I search on and on for the next big House O' Reid. Prospects are getting better, if for no other reason than I'm running out of comically bad houses.
For those of you keeping score at home, I had to pull my offer on the house with the leak. I was willing to overlook a lot, but I just wasn't ready to live somewhere where the rain came right up inside the house to say hello.
Again, here's some tips.
If you're going to use one of your allotted pictures to show a selling point of your house, you'd better damn sure make sure people can tell what it is.
Would I buy this house? Well, the first thing I'd find out is if the rug goes with the house, or is it's just for display purposes. Otherwise, I don't have any idea why I'm seeing a picture of it.
It sure does spruce up that random corner of the house, doesn't it?
If it's not something that people would want in their house, don't promote it.
When I'm looking for a house, I want to see pictures of living spaces, floors, and kitchens. I'm not hoping to find a picture like this, which just screams out "NOW AVAILABLE! THE WORLD'S BIGGEST GNARLED BRUSH PILE! Tangled foliage will convey with a full price offer."
Again, weird colors should be avoided. If you've decided to paint up one of your bedrooms like a big blue Easter Egg so you and your wife can go hoppin' down the bunny trail all year long, perhaps you might want to slap a coat of eggshell white on it and pretend it never happened.
That's also a good thing to consider if the previous bedroom belonged to a Washington Redskins fan.
The repainting tip is also a good one if you kept one of your bedrooms decorated just in case Prince wanted to come over and spend the night.
And finally, bear in mind that small decor changes can make a big difference. For example, in the above picture, perhaps a darker curtain on the door by the toilet would give a better first impression of the bathroom.
Not only would it set the room off, but it would also keep the light from shining through the windows on that French door, and also keep me from realizing that toilet sits right next to an exterior door.
That's really not a selling point for me. If I'm looking specifically for a house with a toilet as the very first thing I encounter when I enter, perhaps I should just reduce the amount of bran in my diet. Maybe eating a wicker basket for breakfast isn't getting my day started in the right way.
My local Wal-Mart now has those automated check-out lines, where you go through, you run your groceries across the scanner, you sack them, you pay for them, and then you take them out to the parking lot. What a great idea this is! I was so thrilled to get that "working at Wal-Mart experience," when I was finished, I stocked the shelves in housewares and then mopped the cosmetics aisles before rounding up the buggies in the parking lot on the way to my car.
The people these stores hire to check out your items are paid by the company, and most of the time, they still don't have any idea how to do it correctly. Why should I have to do their work for them?
I figure Wal-Mart thinks if they can just get us to ring our own groceries up, they can fire the rest of the night shift, replace them with underage illegal aliens smuggled in from Cambodia as indentured servants to the Sam Walton Foundation For Global Economic Control, and then generate nothing but profit.
I've posted before about my "Trolling" game, which is going to Wal-Mart late at night and trying to find one single person that you would sleep with and admit to later. To take it a step further, I actually like going to Wal-Mart late at night. It raises your self-esteem like no diet or new wardrobe ever could.
When I feel like I need to lose weight, or I don't feel good about myself, I just stroll through the doors of Wal-Mart about one a.m. and take a good look around the store and think to myself, "My God. I am the most attractive person in a two-mile radius."
"I could have any woman in this Wal-Mart right now. That woman so big she's using the handicapped wheelchair, wearing the giant stained t-shirt with Tweety on it that says '51% Angel, 49% Bitch'? Even with all of my faults, I could literally be the most attractive person she's ever seen. That meth-mouthed woman with the pointy teeth and the skin stretched across her bones? I could rip that NASCAR t-shirt off her right now, and take her on this big pile of 'Ol' Roy' discount dog food. The woman with the muumuu, and the misspelled tattoo? Mine, all mine."
Who needs Atkins, when you've got Wal-Mart to boost your self-worth?
For the past two years, I have been living in an apartment the size of a prison cell. My apartment is so small, you could stand in the middle and touch both sides of it, although you certainly wouldn't want to without a tetanus shot.
One good thing about living somewhere small enough to qualify as a P.O. box is that cleaning is a breeze, and not just for the fact that you can clean the walls with the spray from the kitchen faucet.
Here's a few easy cleaning tips, all inspired from desperation.
If you have a small kitchen, it may be best to not waste counter space on appliances. It may be prudent to outsource your toast.
Stains in the microwave are easy to loosen up. First, cook a wet sponge on high for two minutes, then wipe the microwave down thoroughly and place a plate of bacon in there. Because, you know, bacon's really good and cleaning makes you hungry.
Whatever that is in on the bottom of the oven, it can be treated with a mixture of baking soda and water. If not, it's best to move and never speak of it again.
If your dryer doesn't vent outside, place a tub of water underneath the exhaust to catch the lint. If your washer doesn't vent outside, you should probably buy some flippers and a snorkel.
Lipstick on clothing can be removed with petroleum jelly, vegetable shortening, or by hiring a higher class of prostitute.
To clean a George Foreman Grill, wet a paper towel and put it inside the grill for a half hour while it cools. To clean George Foreman, scrub him vigorously behind the ears with a loofah and let him air dry.
Clean your rings with toothpaste and a toothbrush. It will make both your rings and your teeth much shinier.
To get rid of bathroom odors in the short term, place an opened box of baking soda behind the toilet. In the long term, stop eating more than a pound of red meat and taking a year's worth of Sports Illustrated into the john at a time.
If a child has drawn on your walls in crayon, it can be removed with WD-40. Barring that, you can always put a frame around it and pretend the little bugger was being cute.
To remove cat hair, wrap a piece of tape around your fingers and pat down your shirt or blouse. Then, wrap the cat in the remainder of the tape and deposit him on the back porch.
Instead of paper towels, clean your windows with crumpled up newspaper funnies. The leftover angst from "Peanuts" will keep your glass shiny and gleaming.
No PopCast for this week, as I am up to my backside in moving. Instead, today we'll tackle a topic I've been meaning to get to for months, and ask a question for the ages.
