Trends That I'm (Almost) Violently Opposed To...

...But Which Look Pretty Cute on Babies

I believe most of you are familiar with this post. This is a follow-up post. Which is not happening because I promised myself I would write at least one blog post a week and am currently two posts behind.

Rompers

Don't put this:

on your body.

Put it on your baby instead:

Infinitely cuter. And an easy diaper change when the time comes; which it invariably will.

Overalls

Not this:

Or this:

 

This:

Or even this:

Leggings As Pants

I didn't mention this one in my original post, but I should have. LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS. I get it-- they're easy and comfortable. But, ladies--please, I implore you-- let's be mindful of the length of the tops we're wearing with them. It should be more on the tunic-y side and at least cover your butt. If not, it's supremely trashy.

So unless you want to look like this:

Or this:

Hello, Camel-toe!

Don't do it. 

Unless you look like this:

Because it's not a big deal if people can see your diaper.

While we're on the subject, 

these are leggings:

 

These are not:

legwarmers

So, in closing: do not ever, ever, ever, like, EVER put any of these articles of clothing on your own body, unless you want to look trashy or take longer going to the bathroom; you may, however, put them on your baby; leggings are not pants and legwarmers are not leggings. 

Stay classy, my friends.

You Have to Be One Sick Puppy

For some reason I've been thinking a lot about Chitty Chitty Bang Bang recently. It's probably because I've always wanted a name like Truly Scrumptious, even though Truly Scrumptious could just as easily be a stripper or a Bond villain; which makes sense because the guy who wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is the same guy who wrote the James Bond novels.

While I love this movie and hold that no home's DVD collection--and no one's childhood-- is complete without it, it is a supremely strange movie. Though it did give us a glimpse into what Michael Jackson's life would be like ten years before Michael Jackson was even born.

I just question some peoples' world view, I guess. Though some people are definitely more off than others.

This past week, as I was eating bags of day-after-Halloween-super-sale-candy, I saw at least two different videos on Facebook of people finding razor blades in their kids' candy. Who would do something like that? It just boggles my mind that there are people out there who go to all the trouble of unsealing individually wrapped candy, slipping razor blades (which they have been saving, presumably, for months to have enough) into the candy, sliding the candy back into their wrappers, and resealing them so that they can hurt children who they have probably never met and will never see again. WHY? You have to be one sick puppy.

I wonder what these peoples' reality is like, you know? It's like those people who think that Josh Hutcherson is more attractive than Liam Hemsworth. It's a Hemsworth, for Heaven's sake! Though I do feel badly for the third Hemsworth brother. On his own he's a reasonably attractive fella; but up next to his brothers he's markedly less attractive. And shorter.

Idiosyncrasies

I love Aldi. For those who don't know, Aldi is a grocery store with crazy low prices. One of the ways they keep the prices down is that you have to put a quarter into a mechanism on the shopping carts to take them out of line. When you're done shopping, you put the cart back in line, chain it to the others by the mechanism, and reclaim your quarter. It works; there are never ever empty unattended carts in the Aldi parking lot.

I have a whole theory about this that I'm currently working on. Either, it restores my faith in humanity because we only need a very small incentive to do the right thing; or, it reinforces my negative perception of the human race because we will do anything to get back what belongs to us, even if what belongs to us is only worth 25 cents.

I'm an observer of humankind, you see. A student of humanity if you will. You would think I would understand them better after having been raised by them and living among them for so long. I find idiosyncrasies and quirks fascinating. So, for your reading pleasure, I have compiled a list of 13 things about me. Why 13? Because it's my blog and I can do whatever I feel like, that's why.

1. I would be crazy easy to stalk should someone feel inclined. This thought struck me yesterday morning as I was sitting in the same building I always sit in on Tuesday mornings, doing the same thing that I always do. I am a creature of habit. I do things a certain way, usually at a certain time, and therefore am highly stalkable. If the hypothetical stalker didn't die of boredom, anyways; highly probable.

2. I have an unnatural affinity for fake cheese. Not Velveeta, but Ritz bits and Cheetos. Can you imagine the pitch meeting for Cheetos? "Picture, if you will, packing peanuts, sprayed with cheese. But wait, wait! I haven't told you the best part: it's not real cheese. That's right, they're sprayed with cheese-like product." Then the makers would just pause and let that mind-bomb take effect. Obviously it was unanimously approved and we can now enjoy the product in a party sized bag of deliciousness; puffy or squookally variety.

3. I hate Remember the Titans. And all inspirational sports movies, if we're being real with each other; and I know we are. Except for The Blind Side. That biz is poignant. Michael never had a bed before Sandra Bullock gave him one!

4. I secretly want a pot-bellied pig. With the acreage we have, by our city's statutes, we could have two pot-bellied pigs.

5. I hate white chocolate. Unless it's on or in something I think is delicious, like strawberries or cookies. In that case, the deliciousness overpowers and cancels out the nasty.

6. I don't really like to talk but I have a lot to say. I'm really much more reserved by nature, but I'm really opinionated. I usually avoid speaking my mind on little things, like my dislike of white chocolate (which, by the way, shouldn't even be called chocolate; it's nothing more than a chocolate derivative. If you wouldn't feed derivatives to your dog, you probably shouldn't eat them yourself) because I don't want to offend or alienate people. This blog is an exception because, well, you can stop reading any time you want and be offended in private. We'll see how that goes when I'm old, cantankerous, and don't care about other people's feelings any more.

7. I put great stock in Briggs-Myers Tests. They're ridiculously accurate and, therefore, great for personal awareness. They pick up on little quirks in your personality that nobody else would know about; it's scary. If you've never taken one, I highly recommend it. Less than one percent of the population has my personality type. Find the one I took at the link above.

8. I'm a hard money kind of person. If I could feasibly carry around a brick of gold and pay my expenses that way, I'd be all over it. I can't think of a single country that's still on the gold standard, which is tragic. We need the gold and silver standard if we want a stable economy. That's not news to anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of economics (like me). I just read an interesting article about it here.

9. I am a chronic procrastinator. Give me six weeks to do something and I will show you an all-nighter the day before it's due. This past week I had a Halloween party to go to on Wednesday night. I started working on the costumes that Monday. And we all looked fantastic. Maybe if it didn't work out for me once, I'd stop. I've been that way ever since elementary school, though. Everyone in my family, really, suffers from the same affliction; except my Mom. So, as my Dad says, at least I come by it honestly.

10. I feel like a have some sort of circadian rhythm disorder. Like a blind person. Sometimes, I wake up really early in the morning and am totally awake and ready to get up and start the day. Other days, I can sleep in until noon and still not be ready to get up. Certain nights I can't fall asleep at all, but then I'm fine in the morning. Clearly, my body is very confused.

11. I like knowing. Whether it's how to do something or how something works, I just like knowing. I like to know how to make things from scratch; I like knowing how to jump a car battery; I like knowing how to sew, knit, and crochet; I like knowing how football works. I'm naturally independent and I like to be self-reliant and self-sufficient; like a pioneer. If I had my pot-bellied pig and my brick of gold, I'd be really self-sufficient; like a pioneer.

12. I wish, with every fiber of my being, that I was ambidextrous. Enough said. It would just be undeniably rad.

13. I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside. Give them a sense of pride to make it easier. Let the children's laughter remind  us how we used to be.

Inconsistencies

You know what I hate? Inconsistencies.

Mostly in tv shows.

Like, remember how on Boy Meets World, Topanga was originally one of the weird kids in class?

Her relationship with Cory developed naturally over time.

First, she was weird:

Then she was less weird; then she was almost normal and they were friends:

Then they dated:

But on later episodes, everyone always said that Cory and Topanga had been together since they were two. FALSE. You can't fool me, ABC; I've watched this thing from the beginning.

Also, the other weird kid, Minkus, completely disappeared after, like, the second season. Though he did make a reappearance in a later episode right before graduation. And mentioned Mr. Turner, which made me very happy.

Shawn originally had an older sister named Stacey. She never appeared on screen, but on this episode...

...when Cory doesn't want his curly, Brillo pad hair, Shawn comes up with the solution because his sister uses a chemical straightener on her hair. When they leave the solution on little Cory's head and it starts tingling, Shawn calls his sister and asks if it's supposed to do that; she tells them they were only supposed to leave it on for 20 minutes. And voila:

Topanga also had an older sister during the first season--Nebbie (short for Nebula). She made a brief appearance on the episode where Topanga had a crush on Eric; Eric tried to let her down easy but failed miserably when her hot older sister showed up at the Matthews' house to pick up Topanga.


Also, remember when Topanga had three dads, and it wasn't progressive?:

The many faces of Jedidiah

I mean, the first one was Peter Tork, so I understand him only being a guest star on the one episode. But still.

And then there were her moms (still just inconsistent):

Remember when Morgan was this kid:

Before she disappeared for a season or two and then reappeared as this kid:

Speaking of disappearing kids-- Judy Winslow from Family Matters:

She just kind of went upstairs one day and never came back down. And whenever Harriet and Carl were having a Proud Parent Moment, they would always refer to their "two great kids." I guess she just couldn't bring it next to Urkel. But don't worry about Jaimee Foxworth. I heard somewhere that she got involved in a lucrative career in the adult entertainment business.

Also, am I the only one who remembers Chuck from Happy Days?

This was almost a write-off, which is what my nit-picky soul craves from a cast change on a tv show.

He went off to college and-- for a while at least-- every once in a while, he would send home a letter; but eventually the letters stopped and Fonzie became the Cunningham's oldest son (if only adoptive).

I could go on and on.... but the longer this post gets, the more pathetic I seem.

Memoirs of a Sunday

Because the entire police force of my small town has nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon than set up a speed trap on a back road that has a ridiculous speed limit, I got a ticket today. Also because I was going 37 in a 25 zone. What can I say? I have a lead foot; I had been out late last night; I had to get up early this morning for church, where I spent two hours making sure that 15 children between the ages of 18 months and 3 years old didn't kill each other before their parents came to pick them up; I also needed to make an apple pie for dessert.

But I also needed a nap. I figured that I could make the pie fairly quickly and still have a little time left before my brother and his family came. So, after church, I took the back way home-- a route that usually takes about 2 minutes less than the conventional way. Unless every police officer in town decides to set up a sting operation; then it takes 20 minutes more than the conventional way.

About a block away from the turn-off to the turn-off to my street, I was directed to a side road, through the parking lot of the high school and right back up the side road in the opposite direction.

I was fourth or fifth in line for my accounting. By the time they got to me [for having every cop in the city there, you would think they would be more efficient with their process], I was almost nodding off at the wheel.

"Did you know it's 25 along this road?" the officer asked me when I had finally cranked the driver's side window down.

"I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that it was a lower speed along here," I answered, using my arm to prop up my head and looking at the tiny me reflected in his sunglasses. "But I honestly wasn't paying attention to how fast I was going." Also, that's a stupid speed for a back road on a Sunday, I added mentally.

It was true-- I hadn't even glanced at my speedometer since pulling out of the church parking lot.

After approximately 10 minutes of looking through the tiny glove box to find the truck's registration (I finally just gave the dude one of the insurance cards, of which there were copious amounts), and another fifteen minutes of processing (how hard is it to write all that biz down? It was long enough that I finally found the registration), and a five minute lecture on the anatomy of a ticket (not my first time, pal) and on how I would have gotten a non-moving violation for not having my registration handy* (it's not my truck, guy; who knows where my Dad put that thing?) I was free to go.

[*Side-bar: This is a ridiculous rule. A ticket for not being able to produce a vehicle's registration in a timely manner? I can see you're really pressed for time. All thirty of you! And obviously you don't want to be here-- you just set up a speed trap as a public service, not because you have some sort of quota to fill. And this official documentation that you want me to produce (in a timely manner) doesn't even have to say that the vehicle belongs to me-- just that it belongs to someone. The whole thing is outrageous, really.]

I've been stewing about this for hours now. I can take my medicine-- I broke the rule; I'll take my punishment now--but speed traps annoy the crap out of me. You have nothing better to do with your time and resources than pull people over for speeding on a road with no one on it. I'm not being a danger to anyone; I'm not being a danger to myself. I'm not infringing upon anyone else's rights, which is-- honestly and truly-- the reason we have and enforce laws in the first place: to protect the rights of the people.

As I pulled away from the encounter, at a reasonable 40 miles per hour,

"But didn't you learn your lesson?"
"NOPE! HAHAHA!"

the thought crossed my mind that I wasn't sorry I had broken the law; I was sorry I had gotten caught.

Which isn't godly sorrow.

I didn't want to change; I wanted the rules to change. It's a curious and universal truth: when we've been wronged, we want justice; when we're in the wrong, we want mercy.

Why They Would Have Gotten Away With It...

I watched an episode* from the first season of Scooby Doo this week.

 In this particular episode, we find Scooby and the gang on their way to Franken Castle (the only castle ever transported stone-by-stone from Transylvania, don't cha know), when they decide to stop off and have their fortunes told by a gypsy woman who happens to have set up shop on the side of the road. She foretells their doom should they go to the castle.

 Being that fortune-telling is all nonsense anyways, the kids continue on their way and arrive at the castle, where they are met by Dracula, Frankenstein's monster, and the Wolfman (in that order).

Obviously something is going on at Franken Castle, so the gang investigates. Somehow during the hijinks and clue-gathering, Daphne (as Daphne is wont to do) ends up in the dungeon, where she happens upon a message written in 1668, which reads: "I've fooled them all, I may perish, but I'll be as rich as KING TUT!" (The awful punctuation almost killed me to write; but that's what it looks like in the episode; and I am nothing if not accurate).

This clue leads the gang inexorably to the Franken family crypt, where they are able to find more clues, all of which point to-- who else?-- the gypsy woman. The rest of the episode is pretty pat: they pay another visit to the gypsy, discover more damning evidence linking her to the castle/crime scene; she makes a break for it; Scooby gives chase and apprehends her just in time for local law enforcement to arrive and finger the gypsy woman as Big Bob Oakley, aka "The Actor", wanted in seven states. Big Bob and the evidence is taken into custody and the gang celebrates nailing that perp with a picnic supper on the castle grounds.

I actually had to re-watch this episode to figure out how they figured it out. Not because it was a fast-paced, penetratingly observant deductive process, but because I was stuck on the message that Daphne found etched into the dungeon wall.

Let me take you through my process:

King Tutankhamun only ruled for nine years before dying mysteriously, leaving no heirs. He was a minor pharaoh. So minor, in fact, that, after he died, everyone forgot about him until Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon discovered his largely untouched tomb in the 1920's. 

The reason Tut is so famous nowadays, ironically, is because he was so un-famous in his own day; because he was mostly forgotten until the early 20th century, no one thought to rob his tomb, leaving it almost perfectly intact for Carter and his team to discover. King Tut's tomb was really the first tomb of an ancient Egyptian king that was discovered by archeologists before it was discovered by grave-robbers, giving modern researchers their first glimpse into what kind of treasure these people were buried with (if they were important people).

My point? NO ONE would have known about King Tut in the 17th century-- no one. And if they did, they certainly wouldn't have referred to him as "King Tut" instead of King Tutankhamun.

I immediately deemed that clue as fake; a pitifully concocted piece of evidence to throw people off the criminal's (or criminals') real scent. 

Fred and the rest of gang were able to take the message, a few precious gemstones, and a golden earring (not to be confused with any of these guys)...

 ...and connect it back to a hardened criminal on the lam, then bring said criminal to justice-- all within the last fifteen minutes of the episode. 

Big Bob didn't get away with it, thanks to those meddling kids.

Now for the tragic part of this post:

If I had been working that case, I would have never bagged Big Bob Oakley and he would probably still be at large. He would have gotten away with it because I'm not a meddling kid. 

I could never be an ace sleuth because I get caught up in the minutia of whether or not a clue can be considered a clue if it's historically inaccurate. 

And also because I watch syndicated animated television shows from over 40 years ago while real crimes are being committed.

*If you're interested (and I know you are) the full episode can be found here.

Of Melting Faces and Divine Potential

I'm constantly struck by the singularity of individuals. I mean, there are certain people who use the words "awkward" and "random" to excess; or who say "amazing" to describe everything until the word no longer has meaning. Some people are all about mustaches of the handlebar variety (can we stop with that already?); some get crazy with the emoticons (on the interweb computer system [Please read in George Costanza's mother's voice]).

Where was I going with this before I started making fun of hipsters?

Oh, yeah-- individuality.

***SPOILER ALERT***

Though, to be fair, the movies discussed have been available for private use for some time. Also, if you've never seen them THIS LATE IN THE GAME, you can't have had any semblance of a decent childhood/young adulthood, depending, of course, on how old you are.

Last weekend my nieces came over. They wanted to watch a movie. The Bug had picked out Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. As I wondered why we even own this movie (I guess to complete our set...), I steered her towards the much more quintessential-- and much more palatable-- Raiders of the Lost Ark. She asked me if there were any scary parts.

We had previously viewed The Temple of Doom and I think she was worried about a similar experience.

During that movie, the Bug had an episode: squealing and writhing, almost as if in pain, and-- at one point-- leaving the room for the safe haven of Grandma's bedroom.

Lest you think I'm a horrible person and even worse aunt, none of this happened during the part you're thinking; the scene pictured above.

Remember the part where Short Round and Indy find the secret passage in Willie's room and follow the tunnel deep under the palace to the catacombs, until they accidentally get trapped in the room with the collapsing ceiling studded with spikes?

You may or may not remember that the tunnel was no ordinary tunnel; no sir. It was a tunnel filled with large, crawly bugs.

It is these bugs that Willie has to slog through in order to pull the lever-- the chamber of which is likewise full of many-legged insects-- in order to open the door to the room and rescue Indy and his side-kick.

This whole two minute sequence was WAY too much for the Bug to handle (she's six). I didn't think she would have a problem with it. She watches Shark Week and River Monsters with genuine excitement and glee. Glee, I say!

All of this notwithstanding, I think her trust in me was so shaken that when the part I was initially concerned about her watching came on (the heart-ripping, sacrifice to Kali scene), she immediately booked it into Grandma's room. She could just tell it was coming and she ran.

There was also a moment of panic when she witnessed the child slavery. ("WHAT ARE THEY DOING??!!!"; but she had a comparable experience while watching Joe Pesci pull a gun on Macaulay Culkin in Central Park in Home Alone II, so I really should have seen that one coming.)

Her four-year-old sister, the Bean, on the other hand, watched the entire movie, start to finish, from the same spot on the couch, her face impassive.

"Are you okay, baby?" I kept asking her. She barely moved her field of vision from the screen to nod her head and grunt, "Mmhmm."

So when the time came to watch Raiders, I knew I needed to think a little harder about what the Bug might possibly consider "scary".

After giving it due consideration, I answered, "There's one part at the end that you might think is scary. Just close your eyes when he tells Marion to close her eyes."

"Who's Marion?"

"Just his girlfriend in this movie."

Satisfied, she skipped to the Blu-ray player and started the movie.

They kept asking me about "Mary"-- "When is Mary gonna be on?"; "What is Mary doing?"

I reminded them that her name is "Marion", and told them to "Just keep watching; you'll see later."

The whole thing went off without a hitch and, finally, we were at the end of the movie.

When the time came, Bug clapped her hands over the top half of her face and said, "COVER YOUR EYES, SISSY!"

Bean remained as she was, eyes fixed on the screen. The Bug kept urging her every few seconds to cover her eyes as she peeked through her own fingers.

The only change in the Bean was that she uttered a "HA HA!" as Arnold Toht's face melted off. The sort of mean, teasing "ha ha" that has the same cadence and modulation as "Na na nuh boo boo" (a taunt that the Bug insisted was, "Na na nuh goo goo" until fairly recently; but that's a story for another day). I didn't have a problem with that. The guy was a Nazi.

It hit me then, and a few times since, how very unique and individual we all are-- in our circumstances, experiences, and reactions. And it starts so young. The girls' eight month old sister, Baby V, is already starting to exhibit her own preferences, characteristics, and mannerisms-- mostly sassy (why is it we only get the sassy ones in our family?). Eight months isn't a long time in which to develop all of those things.

That's how I know that there's more to us than just this life. We were definitely around before; and if that's the case (which it is), we will definitely be around when our life here is over. We are eternal beings, with the opportunity to progress eternally. There is so much more to us than here and now. While our circumstances and experiences here contribute to our whole selves, I know that this life is not the beginning of who we are, nor is it the end.

As we learn to recognize, and be more cognizant of this fact on a regular basis, the less frustrating this mortal experience will be and the more we'll be able to gain from it.