|No, no Rihanna... it's fine. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this.|
Listen, I get it. Not everything in life is supposed to have an easy answer. Or any answer for that. Much of life is a mystery and moves in mysterious ways and yadda yadda yadda but some things on this planet need to be called to the carpet. Like the post picture above. Why for does the Bahamian songstress have "Thug Life" tattooed on her fingers? Did the ghost of Tupac come down from Thug-heaven and personally request she do so? Did she lose a bet with Mike Tyson? Is she planning on leaving this backwards imprint on Chris Brown's forehead as some kind of payback? I just do... not... get... it. Sadly, the answer to this vexing conundrum would probably not satisfy me or most other common sense having people. Hell, I once dated a dude with a Johnny Cash tattoo on his leg so I understand young folks making dummy moves. He got it after we were already going out a while but the fact remains, I dated somebody capable of making such bad decisions. I know that that reflects poorly on my judgement skills all the same. Still, there are things in life that are crystal clear to me. Like why it's a bad idea to strap fire works to one's nether regions and sing I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy in a crowded movie theatre or why trying to cram for the MCAT's the night before the exam with your little cousin's fifth grade level flash cards and the game Operation may not get you into Harvard Medical. Or why dating Snookie is not the best way to keep your genitals rabies-free. I'm not saying all life's whodunits and why need to be solved today. I'm just saying some things this week upset me in ways I can't understand. Like what? Glad you asked...
Why are we buying cars from the guy that had heart to hearts with Wilson? The other day I was sitting down to watch the exceptionally heinous offences that take place in the SVU Dept of Law and Order when I noticed during the commercial for the Chevy Shazbot (that may or may not be the correct model) that Tim the Tool-man Taylor was doing the voice-over work. I usually channel surf during commercials or at best go momentarily brain-dead so the fact that I actually was aware enough to notice his voice stunned and impressed the heck out of me. But then again, I did watch a large amount of Home Improvement when I was a wee bit. Jonathon Taylor Thomas was my future husband. Don't judge me. Thing is, why does Tim Allen need to be trying to sell me a car? (yes, I am quite pleased with the sentence structure of that last line, thank you very much) If I need advice on purchasing a car with good gas mileage at a reasonable rate I'll ask my man Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs. When and if I ever need advice on how to get caught trying to traffic over 650 grams of cocaine (too infinity and beyond, yo!!!) I will give Mr. Allen the old ringy ding ding. I don't want to make it seem like I'm just picking on this particular actor either. In the past six months I've noticed Allen, Robert Downey Jr, Jeff Bridges (The Dude for crying out loud?!) and none other than Mr. Murder Miami himself, Dexter Morgan hawking new wheels. I know companies have used celebrity endorsements since like forever but what's weird about these ads is that they have absolutely zero screen time. They're just providing the voice-over. It's like the ad execs are trying to subliminally persuade us to purchase because the voice sounds familiar. Me no likey.
|I'm a horrible person.|
- Why must the promo for every television show in America include the phrase; "Don't miss the episode you've got to see to believe!"
Have you seen that show on Lifetime called Dance Moms yet? Of course you haven't. Because you're a good person. I don't have the testicular fortitude to weather some wannabe starlet 40 years past her prime screaming and barking orders at child pageant contestants and their enabling stage moms but I have witnessed the numerous commercials that the network plugs in between reruns of The New Adventures of Old Christine. This lady seems horrible. And even worse, she seems proud of it as she stands there in the promotional bumps with her arms folded in front of her and that satisfied look on her face. And then in chimes the announcer with his "this is the episode you've got to see to believe!" malarkey. I think I can believe that a fat, crabby, aging talent agent who's usually crabby and bloaty can be even more crabby and bloaty when the cameras are rolling... especially if it's sweeps. Like it's that tough to make an 8 year old girl cry. I spent half of the third grade in tears and I had no discernible talents whatsoever! This overused and over-dramatized television phrase needs to go the way of the dodo.
|Not in my Netflix queue.|
- Why must every romantic comedy be a steaming piece of Pomeranian doodie? Is it really that hard to make a witty, funny, heart-felt movie about two people getting it on (I'm aware that's not all couples do in romantic comedies. I believe we classify those type of movies in an entirely different category that you need to be over 18 and have a credit card to view)? What's so vexing about the classic tale of boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back that it requires most romcoms to be about as deep as [? Just the other day I watched the commercial for some new movie starring Rachel McAdams and Channing Tatum, who really needs to do his country a favor by going back to stripping for tuition money (be seen, not heard) and I broke out into a damn rash. A rash of anger, I tell you! Really Hollywood? We're actually supposed to believe that a married man upon learning that his boring wife has developed amnesia and no longer knows who he is would spend an entire second act trying to remind her of their marriage vows instead of ... you know, going through their life savings and banging every single girl in the Tri-state area. pulease! Gimme a Break and tell 'em Nell Carter sent you. Granted, there are actually romcoms that aren't god-awful: 50 First Dates, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and 500 Days of Summer spring to mind. All the rest though, crap city. Is it really too much to ask that they stop making these stinkers and finally send Katherine Heigl to the unemployment line where she belongs?
--- Vanity in Peril