It is What it Is

Enough Already

We all know I love me some infomercials, but perhaps what you don't know is that my favorite aspect of the infomercial is how they portray life as so hard without the product being advertised -- as if everything sold on television is the equivalent of sliced bread or the light bulb.

My first example? The Snuggie, of course. Watching this now infamous infomercial, you'd think the most difficult task in the world was holding a phone while covered in a blanket.

And we thought the wheel changed the world.

If anyone actually finds it that taxing to grab the phone while covered in a blanket, they have much bigger problems than anything a Snuggie can fix. Every time I see the Snuggie advertised, and the travails of handling a remote control or phone while covered in a blanket are extolled, I can't help but think of the Friends episode when Joey starred on the infomercial touting a product that made it easier to open milk. Because everyone has so much trouble opening milk to begin with.

If you watch the commercial for Aqua Globes, you might think that watering plants is also one of the most painful and difficult tasks on the planet. At one point, the female actress is seen struggling with a dead fern -- like the rotting plant has attacked her or tried to drag her into its water-less and angry clutches.

Is watering plants easy to forget? Sure. Is it a life or death struggle along the lines of a real-life Little Shop of Horrors? Hardly.

Bad Jokes*

While I appreciate a good joke as much as the next person, I've never been much of an actual joke-teller. Most of my humor is anecdotal, in case no one noticed, and when it comes to jokes, I tend to forget the punch lines, so the whole enterprise becomes pretty anti-climactic pretty quickly.

I've also never really been into potty humor -- and my mother will back me up on the fact that even as a child, farts and burps did not make me giggle; I just seemed uncomfortable and ready to move on. Physical comedy irks me, too. I don't laugh when people trip or get hit in the face with hams. For both of these reasons, I've never enjoyed a Ben Stiller movie.

I could pretend that my sense of humor is sophisticated, but that would be a lie. You have no idea how much I enjoyed the movie Corky Romano. Chris Kattan dressed as a girl scout? Too much!

Basically, this is all a really long intro into what are, despite these general biases, my two favorite clean jokes:

Major Awards

I'm not one to let a chain letter die. (Are you surprised considering all this anxiety? I can't risk death by steamroller, exploding gas pipes or break-ups for failing to do something as simple as send a letter. P.S. Sorry e-mail contact list!) And while the "major award" is not a chain letter, I still feel like I have to keep it going.

Thank you, Tina, for bestowing this blessed honor upon me. I haven't won anything in a really long time -- unless you count the $20 Omaha Steaks gift card I received for all my coke rewards points, which I don't -- so I'm going to have to milk this one for all it's worth. Let me say that Tina is just one of the most awesome people I know. When we worked together at Lipstick, people used to ask if we were sisters. I took it as a huge compliment. 

Now, on to the first requirement of the award: I will now share five random facts about me. (I know, I know, as if you all don't know too much already. Is it hard to sleep yet?)

1. When I was little, I wanted to be an actress. I read biographies of Katherine Hepburn and Tallulah Bankhead for school projects. I attended drama classes, and I wrote and starred in my own plays. Then, I realized that I didn't like people looking at me. (Kind of an obstacle in that career trajectory.) Plus, I decided I couldn't deal with all of the rejection. So, I decided to be a writer. Great call on that rejection nonsense, right?

2. What I miss most in the Great Recession is my bi-weekly pedicures. I take great pride in my toes, and seeing them without color makes me sad.

My (Brief) Life in Politics

I've had some bad job interviews -- and some bad dates, which are really a whole lot like interviews, if you think about it, except that money is rarely discussed upfront. (Unless, of course, you're on one of those kinds of "dates," which are something I, fortunately, know nothing about other than what I see on Law & Order: SVU.)

I once had a 45-minute date. That one even included a sit-down dinner, so I'm guessing I didn't look the way he remembered, or my meal-time conversation is not nearly as entertaining as I thought. During an adventure in speed dating, I was fist-bumped by one guy, informed by another that he "hated children," "like really hated them," loudly and to the point where other people stared, and sat across from a man who was, at best, extremely rude ("What could you possibly have to offer me?") and, at worst, off his meds and in need of professional help ("Should I really even bother talking to you?"). On a double date, the couple I was with had a loud argument that ended with a slap. (About that last one, I've said it before, and I'll say it again, there is little shame like the shame of realizing you are the most conspicuous table in the Olive Garden.)  

But, of the two categories of getting-to-know-yous, it's my worst job interview that always stands out.

Poor Products

I love animals, I really do. My dog is one of the most spoiled creatures on the planet. (Only, though, if you count her wardrobe and chest of toys; she in no way has the demeanor of a spoiled dog because she is sweet, loving and perfect.)

I didn't even like cats until I got my own, but now I am enamored, and he regularly sleeps on my chest. Hell, the cat isn't even litter-box trained, and I still love him, and I think we all know there's no true test of one's devotion and affection like finding random puddles of pee -- or worse.

If you were to hurt one of my pets, you would most definitely know my wrath. But, despite how strongly I feel about animals, I'm not so sure where I fall on the spectrum of animal rights. If you abuse an animal, you should go to jail, and I think people who hurt animals deserve a special, fire-filled place in the great beyond, too. However, I also have no problem with the food chain. Mama loves her meat, after all. I own leather handbags (and once upon a time, I had a pair of leather pants).I never objected to a biology class dissection, and when it comes to life-saving, cancer-fighting kinds of drugs, I'm pretty OK with what it takes to make sure those are safe for humans.

Romance

You would be hard-pressed to find a copy of Love Story or The Bridges of Madison County in my house. The only romance novels I have would fall under the category of gag gifts, and while I know many people who love the books, I don't read Nora Roberts. I'm also not touchy-feely, I don't hold hands and sing in the round and I've never been a fan of Grey's Anatomy.   

That being said, apart from Nights in Rodanthe, I have seen every movie ever made from a Nicholas Sparks book. In the theater. Multiple times. And cried. 

It's easy to see why I'd like The Notebook. I think Rachel McAdams is awesome, and I think we all know that Ryan Gosling is hot. I also have a not-so-secret old man crush on James Garner. Judge me if you want, but that man is still darn charming. And if you doubt me, find some pictures of Mr. Garner circa 1962.

In a few words: Hubba. Hubba.

I didn't know what to expect with A Walk to Remember, but something in my gut told me that this was a movie I needed to see. At the time the movie was released, I had two male roommates (platonic) and was living in D.C. While one of my roommates had accompanied me to Legally Blonde and Unfaithful, I was still pretty sure that A Walk to Remember would be a hard sell. So, one Saturday afternoon, I snuck out of the house without telling anyone where I was headed and made my way to the movie theater at Union Station.

My House is so Cold

How cold is it? you say.

My house is so cold, I've taken to closing off rooms so that I can try to concentrate the little heat I do have into a couple of rooms where I spend the most time.

Closing off rooms for the winter makes me feel like I'm in some fabulous 18th or 19th century Victorian novel. Of course, I don't have help I can order to re-open the rooms in the spring. (Picture maids taking the sheets off my chaises and settees and throwing open the shutters.)

I also don't remember any classic novels taking place in 3/1s just down the road from JoJo's Gun and Pawn, but maybe that's just me.

You Need Us, You Really Do

A few months ago, I shared some thoughts on the movie The Hangover. While I completely stick by what I said then, I also don't want to give the impression that I was only dogging on women. By no means is the other gender off the hook.

I love movies like Old School, Knocked Up and The Hangover. I saw Old School twice in the theater, and both times, I laughed so hard that I was crying. To this day, listening to Kansas can always make me smile.

And one of the tried and true archetypes in these films is the girlfriend/wife who always gets in the way of fun. She nags. She's skeptical. She's forever anti-guys' weekend. And in all of these films, she's also absolutely right.

Taking The Hangover as an example, let's look at just a few of the situations the male characters get themselves into when left to their own devices (and in case you haven't figured it out yet: SPOILER ALERT):

I Don't Do Lines

I believe there are certain attributes we're allotted fixed quantities of each day -- cleanliness, courtesy, tolerance for TNT promos. No matter what we do, only a new night will refresh our stores and allow us to again be thoughtful, caring members of the human race. I think patience is one such attribute.

I usually have a wealth of patience for children and animals. For everyone else, it's a crap shoot. Normally, I can allot my patience throughout the day -- an extra five minutes waiting in traffic, a few more minutes for the cashier in training at the BP station, deep breaths when someone asks how I ever expect to earn a living as a writer. But, if anything exceptionally time-consuming happens, my patience for the whole day is shot.

If the pharmacists takes 45 minutes to fill a prescription he or she promised in 10 minutes, I'll be perfectly cordial to that pharmacist. (Should I be worried that all of my anecdotes take place in the pharmacy? I guess we all write what we now.) I'll thank him or her and take my meds without complaint.

However, the next person to slow me down is out of luck.

New Year, Same Me

I'm not much for New Year's Resolutions. Since I tend to find enough fault with myself as is, I prefer not to set myself up for failure with half-hearted proclamations that usually result from peer pressure. I've seen plenty of commercials for gyms, Nutri System and Wii Fit in the weeks leading up to today, but I don't think targeted ads and social norms are enough to bring about the will power I've lacked for the past 30 years. (Plus, chocolate-covered cherries are still half-price at Wal-Mart, and there aren't enough marketing dollars and judgmental stares for me to fight that kind of temptation.)

I also think the world is too hard on vices. Everything in moderation, as they say. Plus, I can't help but think the occasional vice -- whether it's a cocktail or some celebrity gossip -- keeps us all sane. I worked for a woman who did not drink, smoke, gamble or eat meat. She was one of the meanest and most difficult women I've ever known. If you ask me, a cheeseburger and a martini would have made all of our lives far better. 

It's not that I don't think about self-improvement, I just prefer to do it in a different way. For example, I've spent the last year or so of my life working on approval. In the past couple of years, I've realized that there isn't an amount of praise that's enough for me.

If someone says that a story I wrote is "good," I want to know why they didn't use "great." If it's "great," I want to know why it wasn't "awesome." And if it's "the best work they've ever read and they bow down to me as the next great literary genius," I figure they're lying and trying to make me stop asking questions. (Not that the last comment has ever happened, but I wanted to paint a clear picture.)