Way back in the uncharted backwaters of time (the mid-90s), I graduated from Syracuse with what is maybe the most ridiculous degree ever: a B.S. in “Writing for Telecommunications” -- i.e., writing for television, radio, and film. I am proud of my degree, of course, but to say that it goes unutilized in my current field of employment is probably the greatest understatement in the history of ever.
I mean, really: I do billing for a technology company. Aside from the occasional nastygram to particularly belligerent salespeople, I don’t do much writing at my day job.
But back in the day, I had aspirations. One of my professors, who is now one of the world’s leading experts on TV criticism (yes, really), said once that I might have had a future in that business, but I guess it’s pretty fair to say that life got in the way. Not that I will ever let that stop me from having opinions (see: “Dancing with the Dorks”). I love the movies, always have, always will, and I generally have some strong opinions about them. There are films that are beloved that I can’t stand (“Gone with the Wind,” “Forrest Gump,” “Titanic,” just to name a few), and I tend to champion little bitty things that nobody but me has seen (“Searching for Bobby Fischer”). If you have a week and a half and enough booze to get us through it all, I could tell you where the Academy has gotten it wrong and where they have gotten it right in the last 20 years.
3.04.2010
Sparkle and Shine
I am not 100% sure, but I am starting to think that Shae is maybe a "genius," kind of in the same way that I am a "genius." You know, like she knows and understands words like "herbivore" and "carnivore," and just yesterday she watched an episode of NOVA about Pluto -- the ex-planet, not the cartoon dog -- and yet she still can't seem to master some of the more important life skills ...
... like maybe not sticking the bubble wand directly on your mouth if you expect something to happen. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. There are days when neither one of us has a lick of common sense.
(But I would like to point out that only one of us still eats Play-Doh. Although I do love the smell of it, especially when it's new.) We're getting excited about the weekend, too. There's a chance of snow late tomorrow, but it's supposed to be clear and above freezing on Saturday and Sunday, which is always a good thing.
I know I'm not the only one who is looking forward to getting out of the house for a little while. Fresh air. Sunshine. Hooray!
Winter is almost over! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! Let us chortle in our joy.
... like maybe not sticking the bubble wand directly on your mouth if you expect something to happen. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. There are days when neither one of us has a lick of common sense.
(But I would like to point out that only one of us still eats Play-Doh. Although I do love the smell of it, especially when it's new.) We're getting excited about the weekend, too. There's a chance of snow late tomorrow, but it's supposed to be clear and above freezing on Saturday and Sunday, which is always a good thing.
I know I'm not the only one who is looking forward to getting out of the house for a little while. Fresh air. Sunshine. Hooray!
Winter is almost over! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! Let us chortle in our joy.
3.03.2010
Survival Guide: Giant Stuffed Bear Attack
At some point in your life, you may find yourself suddenly under attack from a giant stuffed bear that came from your mom's cousin's boyfriend or something. But anyway.
The most important thing to remember in these situations is to ALWAYS REMAIN CALM. Important studies conducted by vitally important people have recently shown that these so-called attacks are actually hugs that are misinterpreted. Do not yell, or attempt to run in fear, but try to laugh, and make the bear believe that you are actually having a nice time with him.
In extreme cases, you might try to offer the bear a piece of candy, and perhaps take some time to quietly read him a story, while you want for park rangers or other professional people to assist you. Most North American giant stuffed polar bears are partial to books by Mo Willems about Pigeon.
Should you manage to survive, you might find that you have a new best friend, perfect for snuggles and warmth on cold and rainy winter nights.
This "Survival Guide" was made possible by Jellystone National Park and Viewers Like You. (And also the cousin's boyfriend who donated the bear.)
The most important thing to remember in these situations is to ALWAYS REMAIN CALM. Important studies conducted by vitally important people have recently shown that these so-called attacks are actually hugs that are misinterpreted. Do not yell, or attempt to run in fear, but try to laugh, and make the bear believe that you are actually having a nice time with him.
In extreme cases, you might try to offer the bear a piece of candy, and perhaps take some time to quietly read him a story, while you want for park rangers or other professional people to assist you. Most North American giant stuffed polar bears are partial to books by Mo Willems about Pigeon.
Should you manage to survive, you might find that you have a new best friend, perfect for snuggles and warmth on cold and rainy winter nights.
This "Survival Guide" was made possible by Jellystone National Park and Viewers Like You. (And also the cousin's boyfriend who donated the bear.)
3.02.2010
Dancing with the Dorks
I admit to watching almost every competitive reality program on television -- my on-again-off-again love affair with "Survivor" goes back to Season 2 in Australia, and I keep lobbying friends, relatives, neighbors, co-workers, random strangers on the Internet, etc., to be on "The Amazing Race" with me, and the number of text-message votes I have cast for "American Idol" borders on the irrational, just to give you a few examples -- but I have never really gotten into "Dancing with the Stars."
I'm not sure why, because I'm pretty sure that I am exactly the target audience for that show. I mean, why wouldn't I be? I enjoy dancing, corny jokes, people acting like fools on national TV, dinging gaydar, handsome Russians, perky Mormons, that wacky Bruno guy (especially when he appears on "The Soup"), swirly skirts, tuxedo unitards, and of course glitter, plus I find Tom Bergeron to be basically inoffensive as it appears the Constitution requires, so this show should be right up my alley. Except ...
I'm not sure why, because I'm pretty sure that I am exactly the target audience for that show. I mean, why wouldn't I be? I enjoy dancing, corny jokes, people acting like fools on national TV, dinging gaydar, handsome Russians, perky Mormons, that wacky Bruno guy (especially when he appears on "The Soup"), swirly skirts, tuxedo unitards, and of course glitter, plus I find Tom Bergeron to be basically inoffensive as it appears the Constitution requires, so this show should be right up my alley. Except ...
3.01.2010
Dangerously Clever
It's been kind of boring up in this joint lately, what with the winter and the weather and the whatever. So we're getting creative. Improvising. Just the other day Shae decided to do a little treasure hunting, wherein she basically emptied her toybox ...
... and decided to make herself a boat.
Sorry, excuse me, it was a "yacht." I don't know why my 3-year-old even knows the word "yacht," let alone that there is a difference between a yacht and a really big boat, but she does. I blame global warming, public television, and cheese.
We are finding her toys in the weirdest places, like her pants pockets and, for some reason, the bathtub. I mean, there's nothing wrong with Mrs. Godzilla taking a bath once in a while, but who looks at a pink plastic dinosaur and says, "Hey, excellent idea, let's take this in the tub!"
It's even stranger to watch her in the tub "making dinner" for this dinosaur out of bubbles and water, and trying to feed it with a measuring spoon. Yes, I think plastic measuring spoons make perfectly reasonable tub toys. Don't you judge me. (We practice our colors.)
She's also decided to do a little redecorating by moving her little papasan chair so she can get a better view of the TV.
It was a very busy weekend, don't you think?
... and decided to make herself a boat.
Sorry, excuse me, it was a "yacht." I don't know why my 3-year-old even knows the word "yacht," let alone that there is a difference between a yacht and a really big boat, but she does. I blame global warming, public television, and cheese.
We are finding her toys in the weirdest places, like her pants pockets and, for some reason, the bathtub. I mean, there's nothing wrong with Mrs. Godzilla taking a bath once in a while, but who looks at a pink plastic dinosaur and says, "Hey, excellent idea, let's take this in the tub!"
It's even stranger to watch her in the tub "making dinner" for this dinosaur out of bubbles and water, and trying to feed it with a measuring spoon. Yes, I think plastic measuring spoons make perfectly reasonable tub toys. Don't you judge me. (We practice our colors.)
She's also decided to do a little redecorating by moving her little papasan chair so she can get a better view of the TV.
It was a very busy weekend, don't you think?
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