Random Thoughts

Given my obvious penchant for reruns, you can see how this weekend might have turned in to an E! fest. Yes I did watch Veronica Mars, but I also had time to catch Taradise, E!’s new Wild On show hosted by Tara Reid. I wouldn’t call my self a fan, but I decided to tune in. Tara was on location in Greece and I kid you not Urkel was there too. I was actually impressed at how nice Tara was to some fans (from a docked cruise ship) she ran into while shopping. They asked her for a picture; she obliged. Then they proceeded to take a picture of each one of them (like 4 kids and 2 parents) with several different cameras and camera phones. Tara was gracious and way more patient than I would have thought. In short, she was incredibly kind to a rather undeserving group of people because they repaid her kindness by following her everywhere and photographing her every move. I know she is a celebrity and she was in public and that makes her fair game, but she gave them time, attention, and nice pictures and still they stalked her. What is wrong with people?

I am also addicted to true crime shows, especially Court TV. My mom thinks something is wrong with me and I am disturbed or something. She would freak if she knew I recognized a couple people from the Alabama shows. Back in the day I used to take criminal justice courses and part of the requirement took us to every prison in the state. I know, it is a stunning distinction. I have been inside every prison in the State of Alabama. I should put that on my resume. At least the curious would call me back. I still maintain I would rather be in Tutwiler than homeless, so if the situation ever arises, I am being somebody’s bitch and getting free courses in cosmetology. Plus you can get a bitchin’ haircut there for cheap!

Sadly, I checked out Celebrity Fit Club this weekend as well. Honestly half the freaks I don’t even recognize and I am sure they are all great people and who couldn’t drop a few pounds except maybe Mary Kate or Lindsay Lohan or Nicole Ritchie for that matter. Anyway, what the hell is Jani Lane doing there? First of all he doesn’t look fat, just fucked up. I am glad he is turning his life around and no longer cavorting with whores, drinking and cranking out crap pile records. But couldn’t he have gotten that at rehab like ever other washed up has been 80’s band leaders? Not to mention, sometimes we don’t really want to see how our idols and/or former crushes turned out after the all too bright light of fame has faded.

Now for the most important question of the day, what is up with tagless t-shirts? The whole idea is NO TAG, but all they did was move the damn thing- that does not qualify as tagless! How about some truth in advertising? I realize new “tag relocated shirts” doesn’t roll trippingly off the tongue, but don’t promise me something you have no intention of delivering. I am sure there is not much the fine folks at Hanes can do to spice up there product lines. I mean you have white shirts and colored shirts, then what? But don’t make up bullshit slogans that are completely untrue and expect me to be impressed by your forward thinking.

I am sick of the summer TV crapfest, enough with the repeats! I know we are half way to September, but I can hardly stand it anymore. What can I say? I love TV, and I love being a couch potato, but there is a limit to how many times I can watch the same shit. NBC is even replaying the first 2 episodes of Tommy Lee Goes to College. I mean really, that just aired on Tuesday! I suppose I can believe it is possible there are a few people out there who really wanted to see it and simply forgot, but I can’t believe there could be enough to merit showing it twice in one week. It is no secret I watched it, but it really wasn’t that great, and you could certainly catch up if you had missed an episode or two. There are built in recaps and previously on footage, not to mention the hundreds of commercials NBC has pimped out to promote it. Admittedly I am a professed addict of Veronica Mars repeats even though I have seen all of the episodes several times. Now CBS is done showing those on Fridays, so I am stuck getting them only on UPN. At least USA ia airing first run episodes of Monk, the 4400 and Dead Zone. Although I really only get a chance to catch Monk, and its season finale is next week. I am starting to understand why some of my fellow bloggers have countdown clocks to let them know the exact amount of time until new episodes start airing. Unfortunately, most of this year’s line up looks somewhat disappointing, so I am not sure my problem will fade with the onset of new stories, but at least I will have something new to talk about.

With that in mind, what’s with the onslaught of bad commercials? Has anyone seen the new Always ad where the maxi pad turns into a bed? I don’t think I have to tell you how sick that is on so many levels. And then there is Uncle Bens 90 Second Ready Rice. You know the one where the guy is a gourmet chef and his wife is hungrily waiting at home for him to get off work. When he finally gets there, he is too tired to fix her anything decent and he wasn’t smart enough to bring something home with him from the restaurant so they are stuck eating crappy microwave rice. Also Catherine Zeta Jones is freaking gorgeous, how the hell does T-Mobile always end up airing commercials where she looks like shit? How is that even possible? You don’t have to like her to realize she is beautiful, but either they’re not getting their money’s worth or she needs to fire her agent. On the good side of commercials is BP’s time saving ads which give you tips on how to shave time off your morning commute. My favorite ad suggests you forego taking that last look at yourself in the mirror before you rush out the door and instead wait until you stop off in their convenience store to check yourself out in the myriad of reflective surfaces they have strategically placed around the store. But a special note tells you not to stare to long or you will appear vain. Truthfully, I only like this commercial because it is so me. I check myself out in pretty much every reflective surface I have ever passed. I check myself out in the mirror at the car wash for god’s sake. Who cares if my car looks good and I don’t? Like that ever happens (ok maybe it happens more often than I would like).

In other good news, Friday Night Fever starts next week and I couldn’t be more excited. I love high school football, and no, it is not a sick obsession I have with teenage boys. I think it started somewhere between having 4 brothers and a referee father who took me to a LOT of games. Anyway, football rules and this year I have my very own player to root for! Woo Hoo! Speaking of which, I hope you make it to Green Day this weekend, Jarrod. So jealous!!!!

Was anyone watching Entertainment Tonight’s plastic surgery addicts last night? There was New York’s cat lady and the human Barbie doll (both of whom I have seen before), but they introduced a third spectacle as the human Ken doll. I actually thought he was much more attractive before the surgeries, but I am not sure he is interested in my opinion if you know what I mean. Anyway, this guy had butt implants and even bicep implants in addition to the plastic face he has acquired. So basically what I learned from this is, you can’t fix ugly, but you can fix tiny biceps. Good news!

My husband and I have this nightly ritual, we go to bed way too late and then lay around talking about whatever comes to mind. Sort of a stream of consciousness mind cleansing that can cover anything from familial updates, to the things we didn’t finish doing that day and ends up at things we’ve failed at or more of those questions I don’t want to know the answer to. It is never a good idea; sometimes we end up arguing or at the very least someone (usually me) gets hurt feelings.

Last night I was belaboring a point about my husband’s hesitance to admit to loving me at the beginning of our “relationship” and how embarrassed I was the first time I said it. Admittedly, I had no idea what love was at the time and clearly still have an issue with it now. Anyway, I told him I would have done anything to get out of there. “I just wished I could flick my ponytail and be instantly transported someplace else”. He responded with, “You had a ponytail in your hair that day”? To which I quipped, “No genius, I was talking about Jeannie! I would wear my hair in a ponytail everyday if that shit worked”. And thus the night ended not in anger or a fight, but in hysterical laughter as really all nights should yet seldom do.

In other news, I have the shortest attention span known to man. I would say I have ADD if I didn’t believe that was the most over diagnosed “disease” of the modern era. Seriously, who doesn’t have ADD? Maybe they should just put Ritalin in the water like fluoride, NOT. You know, I’ve stopped writing this like 10 times to watch TV or check a message board for entertainment updates. It is kinda pathetic.

BTW Days sucks! I don’t know why I even bother watching although I am starting to feel sorry for Grandma Caroline and Victor. They have been captured by Tony all this time and now that they have returned home; they have to separate. Poor Grandpa Shawn, his wife has been hanging out with her former paramour for the past year, and he has to be all grateful to him. At least they didn’t keep Alice locked up that long; poor Gran’s like 90 or something. That was just wrong, fake killing her. I could probably talk for a year about all the stupid gross stuff going on, but I will spare you-for now. I really am gonna stop watching if they don’t get a better hairstylist on staff. Everyone is starting to look like crap and Bonnie has a mullet for god’s sake!

Lastly, does anyone else get annoyed when people use expressions in the wrong context, or worse, they use the wrong expression all together? I mean I know we all do it, and it makes for really great comedy in movies, but don’t you ever just want to hit someone for being such a moron? Like when people say “for all intensive purposes” or “intended purposes”, it drives me crazy! I just want to scream it’s “intents and purposes”! Please don’t use what you can’t understand or at least do yourself a favor and buy a thesaurus or a dictionary of popular phrases.

OMG…What the hell?…Passions is so weird! I gotta go…

Why is it easy to spend 2 hours in Wal-mart until you have to? I thought I would kill myself with a knitting needle or at the very least a hunting knife before they got through with my car. Since I had already spent a crapload on my car this week and I still needed tires, Weezie suggested I go to Wal-mart. What she doesn’t know is, I live in hell. We have no Supercenters and very few locations with a Tire and Lube Express. So, I drove all the way across town to save a few bucks. Surprise, surprise, they didn’t have the tires I wanted, but they did have a 2 hour wait. I said screw it; I’m not waiting. I’ll come back tomorrow, and I left. Then I thought, what the fuck? You drove all the way over here. It can’t be that hard to kill a couple hours in Wal-mart. Admittedly, I did forget how crappy this particular one was. I also forgot how handy it can be to be a girl, especially when the guy behind the counter with the self professed speech impediment is trying to impress you. He really was trying so hard to be helpful; it was sweet. And I don’t even have the blonde hair anymore, so I have to work overtime to pull off the ditz thing. I did get my tires and about 40 bucks worth of stuff I could use but didn’t really have the money for. I also got a stern warning from my new friend because I need to replace my other tires soon and should really have my car realigned. Crap! It sucks when your new car is not so “new” anymore. Well, at least I don’t have to walk anymore, and it sure is easier to get to Alabama.

My husband is trying to take credit for teaching me the word “craptastic” like it is “his” word or something. Apparently he and his geek squad have been using it for years. He would take credit for the Declaration of Independence if it wasn’t signed. It is so annoying. Now he’s also all offended that I said I was Mrs. Nerd Hag, but I got him back because according to MSNBC.com, he is suffering from Irritable Male Syndrome. I would say the whole test was bullshit, but I live with him and the test kinda has a point. Besides, it makes me really happy to tease him about going through Male Menopause! I know, that’s mean, and I am screwed ’cause menopause will head my way someday (a long, long time from now)! Don’t you worry, I’ll get mine, but for now I’m gonna have some fun. On the flip side, I really can’t be too mean; after all, he is the one with the job.

I am headed to Bama next week, my nephew was finally released from the hospital, Weezie’s throwing a baby shower for her sister, and the Prattville Lions have their season opener in Wetumpka. If that wasn’t enough fun, my niece, Sr. Marie Therese, and some of the sisters from her convent in Portsmouth are going to be on “Life On The Rock” September 1st, and I am going to attend the taping. Don’t worry, I can watch my language and quit smoking when I have to. I will be perfectly respectable, just like Tommy Lee at college (well, almost).

Seriously, did you watch that show? It was sad, funny, pathetic and humbling all at the same time. I hate reality TV, but I have already watched Veronica Mars like a hundred times already, so I had to do something. Plus Tommy Lee is still kinda hot if you gave him a radiation shower and a flea dip. Speaking of which, you should see this dog on the news! It just won some ugliest dog contest out in California. I thought my drama teacher’s dog, Muffin, was hideous. WHOA! That reminds me, settle a bet; who gets credit for that phrase, Keanu Reeves or Joey (er Joseph) Lawrence?

So, I have never been skinny dipping. This probably would never have been an issue were it not for my current obsession with Veronica Mars. I was rewatching some of the early episodes this weekend when all of the sudden, I opened my mouth and out popped, “Hey Taine, have you ever been skinny dipping”? What the hell? Why do I keep asking questions I don’t want to know the answer to? Why can’t I just learn my lesson? Now, I have to make plans to lose my oceanic virginity post haste as I am definitely cooler than my husband. And there is no way he is going to have one up on me for long even if his does count double because he was with a girl. I am most definitely not going skinny dipping in Lake Erie, so I will just have to make plans to head for the beach in late September or early October before it gets too cold for that kinda stuff. My biggest problem now is who to go with. I mean I will end up doing the skinny part solo, and knowing my luck, I will also end up being arrested for public indecency. So I am going to need someone around to bail me out besides what fun is vacationing by yourself? Well Weezie? Got a free weekend coming up? And more importantly, have you lost your oceanic virginity? Do tell…

In other news, my car once lovingly referred to as “baby Echo” has officially been rechristened “craptastic” as it cost me (er…Taine) $350 in repairs today, and it still needs 2 tires and $700 worth of body work on the hood. But at least it gets really good gas mileage! And in fairness to Toyota, I drive the thing like it’s a tank, and it has been back and forth to Bama more times than I can count because I refuse to use my toes!

If the Beatles were right and “all you need is love”, then I am in serious trouble. My brain is in a permanent state of malfunction. Perhaps I am, as my husband says, Peter Pan in my emotions having never left my teenage years behind. I can’t imagine wanting to be a teenager again, I was ridiculously bad at it the first go round. I guess I know I have love, but it seems I have spent my whole life trying to feel it.

Lust one can feel. That is easy-a queasy stomach filled with butterflies, a lump in the throat, maybe even skipping a breath or two. Hell, lust you can get from a tv show, just watch Logan and Veronica’s first kiss. It’s like porn for teenage girls. But I’m talking about real honest to goodness love. The kind your parents are supposed to have for you, the kind you get from your family and friends, and if you’re lucky, your soul mate (if you believe in that kinda thing).

I am sure I have people that love me. Some of them might even be offended by this post. If so, please know I don’t mean it as an insult or a lessening of your feelings. In fact I am jealous of them. I never seem to be able to register love. I can’t feel it. I never know if it is there. It is like this void in my soul. Seemingly I don’t care, but it is strange to see everyone else experiencing something you just don’t get and it isn’t as if someone can explain it to you. I can comprehend the love other people have, but I can’t see my own.

Zach Braff beautifully expressed a similar understanding in the movie Garden State. In particular is a scene where Large is explaining to Sam about being home sick for a place that doesn’t exist. I keep meeting people in my generation who swear they can’t feel love either. It is like an overwhelming sense of loneliness and an inexplicable lack of feeling. Perhaps we are all home sick for a feeling that never existed. Not to say that love never existed, just not in the fairy tale way we expected. Certainly I believe in love, but I also believe it is possible that we have unrealistic expectations of love which make us unable to recognize and fully appreciate it. I would go so far as to say, in our quest to find love and define it, we missed the little doses along the way and are now so starved we can’t find a source large enough to feed our appetite.

In fact, one of the reasons I became an actress was because I craved the feelings of love and attention the stage can provide. Eventually the curtain falls however and the high subsides. You end up right back where you started from (if you are lucky). Sometimes you manage to land lower than you were when you began. Honestly, it is worse than a sugar high! But I loved it. You know, they say everyone wants to be famous, and maybe that is true. But I really think everyone just wants to love and be loved. Some of us just don’t know where to begin.

Does this mean I and countless others like me are cursed to walk alone? No, I don’t think so. At least I hope not. Does this mean people don’t love us and we don’t love them? I don’t believe that either. I think it just means we have a lot to work on and apparently a whole lot of baggage to deal with.

P.S. Did anyone else see Avril Lavigne on Jay Leno? She looks weird all blonde and grown up. So much for the alternative skater girl, but I guess we all have to grow up sooner or later. Clearly, I’m still working on it.

For the record, I have notoriously wacky dreams, not the least of which was attending my own funeral a’la “November Rain” (think GNR). At least my funeral wasn’t the result of being eaten alive by rats right in front of everyone at my high school. Yep, had that one, too. Last night, my dream almost reflected my wacky adult reality. Damn my husband for waking me up! I thought I would bore you with the details because it is funny how my mind works and because Weezie will get a good laugh, and be flattered she made it in.

Before you get too cocky, so did Barry Manilow! If you know me, then you know I am convinced he died about 20 years ago and they have been animating a wax statue ever since. That would explain “his” requirements for an extremely cold dressing room and stage as well as the shielded walkway from his dressing room to the stage (so none of us commoners can lay our eyes on him before his big entrance).

Back to the dream, my husband and I and my parents (for good measure) are at an old family home, Landover. It goes back several generations in my husband’s family and in my dream we are there to clean it out. Presumably we are selling it, though logically it isn’t ours. Anyway, my mom and I are cleaning up and packing stuff, and I tell her to be careful in her room because the floor boards are rotting away due to age. My husband comes over yelling at me not to say such things as we are in the new building. Landover he points out is out there (outside the big picture window). Oh, of course, now it all looks familiar-decaying house, a remnant of its former glory, guarded by attack cows in the middle of a field in Virginia. The cows are real by the way. So I politely tell my mother we should go up to the old house and look around one last time, and she can meet the cows. Now I get a good look at this beautiful new building. It is brick, built like a huge manor house or castle. There are chandeliers and Persian rugs, beautiful antiques, a large ball room, a fancy restaurant: the works. We are in moving clothes, but are not dirty or anything. The staff in their tuxedos and cummerbunds looks at us like we are street beggars who just wandered in. They clearly do not like us and want us to get our stuff and leave. My mother opines it is a shame the house is leaving the family after all these years which we all agree with, but rather half-heartedly as we are really trying to get finished.

Cut to my dad outside by the car being a childish jerk and throwing a fit. Nice to know some things are the same whether you are dreaming or not. Weezie and I bolt, so as not to deal with his drama. We get inside, past the hostess who is telling us what tables are available to dine at, round the corner, and remember the only entrance to the elevator is in the men’s restroom. Some one has made quite a stink in there and we are fighting over which one of us will go in a press the button. The apparent stinker leaves, and I shove her in and say, “just push the button”. She does and then runs back out to wait with me. The door is closing slowly and is still somewhat ajar when two, yes two, hot guys come around the corner from the urinals. As they are washing their hands (that’s how you know it is a dream) they are checking Weezie out. I am genuinely offended at the oversight, and the taller one smiles at me. Their girlfriends show up (arg!) and get on the elevator, pushing 3. Weezie and I jump in. I push 2; she pushes B, and says she wants to go to the basement and smoke. I agree and as the doors shut, my father enters. Oh joy. The elevator is taking a lifetime and when it finally stops, Weezie exclaims “oh, good the basement,” but alas we are on the 3rd floor. The bitches may have won the battle… We whine about the injustice of it all as the doors close again.

My cell phone rings. It is my mother asking if it is alright to bring her own ice up to the room as she knows we can’t bring our own drinks. I tell her I don’t know what she is talking about as Colette and Curtis (Weezie’s parents) have already done both. Don’t ask me where they came from. As I hang up the phone and relay the conversation, Carol (aka Weezie) says we should split a drink when we get to the basement because my mom will take forever to get inside, and we both like to drink Coke while we are smoking. I agree and then the phone rings again.

Big surprise it is my mother, only this time she is weeping.

“Barry Manilow has passed honey. I can’t believe it. He was so young”.

“What? Where did you hear that”?

“It was on Entertainment Tonight”!

“Mom, you’re watching tv? I thought you were bringing us something to drink”!

“I’m not watching TV! It was in this new magazine. Did you know Entertainment Tonight had their own magazine”?

“Uh, no mom, why do you care? I didn’t even think you liked Barry Manilow. Besides, didn’t he die years ago”?

“Of course not, you know that. AND I LOVED Barry Manilow. I always have”.

Cut to my husband waking me up and thus no conclusion to this crap fest. But the last part is very realistic, whenever someone dies, my mother is always shocked and then consequently their biggest fan. Just ask Tupac. That’s it for now, but I promise more rambling later my little chickies.

Why does it always take 45 minutes to mail something at the post office? The employees have such horrible attitudes, probably since there is never more than 2 of them on counter duty at a time, but there are 3 or 4 yelling to help you with held mail and otherwise staring at you. They installed these great new postage machines that are nicer robot versions of employees, and they do everything except sell postage for flat rate boxes! Why? What is the point of uncomplicated flat rates if a robot can’t be programmed to deal with it? No wonder everyone in there-customers, employees and people who apparently have no life and hang out at the post office are borderline homicidal. I feel like taking that machine outside and reenacting the fax scene from “Office Space”! Speaking of which, a hot guy once told me I would love that movie. I didn’t, but the flashbacks are coming in handy now! I wonder where he is these days. DC last I heard.

Anyway, while I am being pissy, what the fuck is so hard about making a right hand turn? Unless you are making a right on red, there is no need to come to a complete stop. Just turn!!! Get it over with!!!

P.S. Looks like those Jesus stickers aren’t working quite as well as I had hoped.

“Nobody likes you. Everyone left you. They’re all out without you having fun”. Who knew my life was a Green Day song. Who knew Green Day could still kick ass? The first question is rhetorical, but the second one, seriously, who knew?

So, I got the hair cut, but I didn’t get any sleep, and I didn’t breathe til it was over. The good news is, my hairdresser said I look sexy. The bad news is, I think that is what I am paying her to say. Seriously though, I like it, but I will reserve final judgement until I wash it and fix it myself. Doesn’t it suck when you leave the salon all hot and then you go to get ready the next day and you’re all not? Ok, really that doesn’t happen to me, but it must happen to some people, right? Just kidding. I’m not that vain. Yes, I am, but anyway. I will try to get a picture up later for those of you who care. For the rest of you who don’t care, you should. I am awesome!!! LOL…

I am not all vanity and ego. Sometimes I am nice too, but I prefer being bitchy. It is what comes naturally, but people seem to love me anyway. Even though you couldn’t tell from my opening statement. I guess it is because I mean well. I never intentionally try to hurt anyone. I am just self absorbed most of the time. My mom says I need children to draw the attention off myself. Why would I want to do that?

Anyway, I like elderly people. I love listening to their stories and making them feel loved (except when I am driving behind or next to them). I visit one of the local nursing homes here on Tuesdays. I don’t make balloon animals or do anything kooky, just listen and learn.

Since I am not working, I try to go to daily Mass whenever I can. There was this one lady there who I have been talking to on and off for a while. When my friend Fr. Michael killed himself, I went straight to church to pray and she was there. I asked her to pray for him, for his family and for me. She said the most comforting words to me. Then I left for his funeral and was gone for a few weeks. I haven’t seen her since. Today, I finally ran into a lady who remembers the woman I am talking about (so at least I know she wasn’t a figment of my overactive imagination), but no one seems to know what happened to her. Weird, huh? I hope she is ok. Looks like I have my own little mystery to solve…