Dear American Idol… May 20, 2009

I’ll admit it.  I’m a sucker for cheezy reality tv competition shows.  Project Runway (it’s a tranny mess!) , America’s Next Top Model (that’s why it’s called Covergirl…because it covers up the man in you), and yes, American Idol.  My favorite part of American Idol has to be the auditions, because who doesn’t like seeing people have their hopes and dreams smashed on national television?  But then I get sucked into watching the rest of the season because I have to know who wins (and it’s also one of missions in life to find out what is in Paula’s cup that she’s always drinking, cuz it aint Coke).  I don’t really care who wins (I’ve never voted for any of them), I just like seeing who wins.  Honestly, most of the people on this show are never heard from again (unless they have a weird guest judge appearance on ANTM *cough*clayaiken*cough*), so it doesn’t really matter who gets confetti dumped on them while singing some horribly cheezy “reach for your dreams” type song.  At least, I never really cared who wins until this season.  Actually, I really just want to see one person lose: Adam Lambert.  So I guess by default, I’m hoping Kris I’m-too-lazy-to-look-up-what-your-last-name-is wins tonight.

Now, if you can look past the awful emo hair, bad guyliner, and atrocious skinny jeans (no member of the male persuasion should ever wear skinny jeans) Adam Lambert can sing.  All season he’s put on some pretty decent performances (if you ignore the weird version of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire”, which I am pretending never happened).  However, Adam Lambert did the unforgivable last night when he completely butchered a perfectly good Sam Cooke song, “A Change is Gonna Come.”

I tried to find this performance on youtube, but everything has been taken down.  This was the best I could find, and the ending was cut off, so consider yourself lucky for not having to hear the entire song.  So enjoy this still shot of the bad emo hair while you listen to the essence of blasphemy.

No…just no.  The American Idol website said this about his performance: “Simon Fuller requested Sam Cooke’s ‘A Change is Gonna Come’ for Adam Lambert’s second song. Adam was able to show off his tremendous vocal range, and the judges thought this was Adam at his best.” *headdesk*

Dear Simon Fuller,

I don’t know who you are, but what were you thinking?  Right now you deserve to smacked upside the head, along with the judges for praising this atrocity.  And if you’re the one responsible for the week of Queen songs a few seasons ago, you deserve another smack upside the head.

Sincerely, Me

Because of this, I have taken it upon myself to make a list of artists American Idol contestants should stay away from, because whenever they try to sing these artists’ songs I just sadly shake my head and say, “Oh honey…no.”  So here it is, my list of artists whose songs should never be heard from the American Idol stage ever ever ever (feel free to add to this list, as I know there are some people I’ve left out):

Queen

Sam Cooke

Whitney Houston

Elton John

Aretha Franklin

Johnny Cash

Ray Charles

Can I Hear You Now?…Good! March 12, 2009

Confession: I love the commercials for all of the “As Seen on TV” crap such as the Snuggie (everyone’s favorite blanket with sleeves that’s really just a backwards robe) and the Stick Up Bulb (basically a flashlight without a handle).  I once watched an infomercial for the Tobi for about 20 minutes, completely mesmerized and thinking, “I would use that every day,” before I snapped out of it and went to bed.  In my defense, it was 2 in the morning, and as we all know, fatigue clouds judgment.  I think all of these products are absolutely ridiculous, and the commercials for them are even more ridiculous yet surprisingly enlightening.  For example, had it not been for the Snuggie commercial I would have never known just how cumbersome blankets are.  All my life I had believed that it was possible to answer the phone while snuggled under a blanket.  Oh how wrong I was!  Thank you, Snuggie, for showing me the truth.

Anyways, this past weekend it was brought to my attention that eavesdropping on other people’s conversations has apparently become increasingly difficult.  But no need to worry.  Now you can be a stalker too with your very own Loud ‘n Clear.

Here are a few of my favorite lines from the commercial.  “What can you do when it’s hard to hear, but you don’t want to miss hearing a word?…Simply turn up the volume on what people around you are saying!…So powerful you can even hear conversations from across the street….Ever wonder what people are saying when you can’t hear them?  With Loud ‘n Clear you can discretely listen in.”  If that doesn’t sound like something from a How-To-Be-A-Creepy-Stalker book, I don’t know what does.

But my favorite part about this ridiculous product is the fact that they made it look like a bluetooth headset.  Because if you’re hard of hearing, why would you want some small discrete hearing aid when you could wear this and look like one of the “cool kids” with their fancy bluetooth headsets?*see side rant*  So if you need help eavesdropping on what the neighbors have to say, just use the money you got from Cash4Gold and buy yourself a Loud ‘n Clear today! (Stalkers’ binoculars and how-to book not included)

*Side rant about bluetooth headsets* Ok…I have no problem with people using these so they can talk on their cell phones while driving, but is it really that difficult to switch back to a normal phone once you get out of your car?  Because half the time people don’t see the little thing attached to your ear and you just end up looking like some moron wandering around Wal-Mart talking to yourself.

Don’t Do That Ever Ever Ever… March 7, 2009

I tried putting this on my favorite quotes on facebook, but it wouldn’t let me. So I’m putting it here.

This was a conversation between my mom and my sister after my mom gave her cell number out to some stupid website quiz thing.  Her phone suddenly went nuts with text messages from this website, but since she didn’t know how to get them to stop,  I had to unsubscribe her number from it:

Traci – “And did we learn a lesson here?”
Mom – *grumbling* “Don’t do things I know I’m not supposed to do.”
Traci – “That’s a great generic life lesson. Care to narrow it down?”
Mom – “Don’t look at things on the internet.”
Traci – “How about you just don’t do the stupid quizzes on facebook.”
Mom – “But it’s there everyday! Just staring at me!”
Traci – “You can click ‘ignore’ and it will go away.”
Me – “Wait…was this a facebook application or one of those stupid ads on the side of the screen?”
Mom – *grumbling* “It was an ad.”
Traci – “You clicked on an ad? Didn’t you learn not to click ads in 1997?”
Mom – *sheepish* “No…I just wanted to know how many triangles there were.” *suddenly angry* “Great! Now my cell phone number is out there somewhere and I’ll probably get all of these stupid texts.” *brief pause, and then she gets this epiphany* “Oh, hey! Maybe I’ll get texts now!”

So the lesson is, don’t do things you know you’re not supposed to do ever ever ever ever…but hey, maybe someone will actually text my mom now (not that she knows how to text them back)

Sorry to Burst Your Bubble, But the Year is 2009…Not 9

Things I hate, in no particular order:

1.  Tomatoes

2.  Soprano Saxophones (and by extension, Kenny G)

3.  Babies dressed as plants *cough*anngeddes*cough*

4.  Gladiator Sandals

I don’t know who started the recent trend of the Gladiator Sandals, but they deserve to be locked in a room and forced to listen to Kenny G while eating tomatoes and staring at Ann Geddes pictures for hours on end.  And if that sounds good to you, you seriously need to rethink your standards of fun.  So what brought on this recent rant about gladiator sandals?  DSW, my favorite shoe store (and a little piece of heaven on earth) sends me emails about sales, trends, and what they call their “style guide.”  My sister asked me if I had seen the most recent style guide, so I logged into my email and was greeted by this atrocity:

Why?!  For some reason, the bottom of this picture got cut off, but at the bottom it said, “These shoes are great alternatives to flip flops. They’re so versatile, you can WEAR THEM WITH ALMOST ANYTHING!”  Ugh!  I will tolerate the wearing of these sandals under one condition:  It’s the first century a.d. and you’re fighting in the colloseum, because then maybe the lions will have a chance to eat these hideous shoes.

Things I Learned in Relief Society January 7, 2009

When I was 17 I was kicked out of Young Women promoted to Relief Society, and since then I have picked up some wonderful gems of wisdom.  A couple of years ago my neighbor and I began keeping a list of some of the more interesting things we have learned.  This year in my ward, the relief society presidency has decided to have one lesson a month about the Relief Society Theme/Motto/Declaration or whatever it’s called (which I didn’t even know existed until about a week ago).  Anyways, during the lesson the instructor asked us what were some things we had learned over the years in Relief Society.  The people who answered gave nice spiritual answers, and I had to keep myself from laughing because all I could think about was this list that I have decided to share here.

1. Satan is in charge of Victoria’s Secret. I think this one occurred during a lesson on modesty, or something like that.  One woman went off on the JC Penny’s catalogs and how scandalous it was that they included advertisements for bras and panties.  Somehow this led into some big discussion about how Satan is trying to poison our minds through these advertisements, and therefore Satan is in charge of Victoria’s Secret.  Umm…I’m thinking no.  However, if I’m wrong and Satan really is the mastermind behind Victoria’s Secret, then let me just say that he makes some really comfy pajamas.  Moving on, this discussion that Sunday also led to item 2 on the list.
2. Satan is in charge of NBC. This was concluded along the same lines as the previous item, during a discussion about Satan and the media.  But once again, I’m thinking no.
3. We should sin in moderation. Go ahead and sin, but do it sparingly.  To be fair, the teacher didn’t mean for this to sound like an open invitation to go crazy; she was trying to get the point across that we should be more aware of our actions and try to be more Christlike, but this line was just too good to pass up.
4. We should completely give up watching TV and reading because those are sins. Essentially, avoid all media.  Once again, to be fair, the person who made this wonderful blanket statement meant that we should be more aware of the things we watch and read.  However, for those who may be concerned, according to #3 these can still be done in moderation.
5. The Holy Ghost goes to bed at midnight. This is one of my favorites, and it’s one I heard more than once while I lived in a singles ward in Provo.  I never asked about what time he gets up.
6. Satan will appear in the form of a unicorn. This one was really just one of my snarky comments that I said to my neighbor, but she thought it was funny and put it on the list.  This is actually a written list that she keeps with her church stuff, and one day one of her cousins (who is about 9 years old) found the list and for a few minutes was afraid that Satan really was going to appear as a unicorn.

That’s all that’s on the list right now, but if I hear anything else I’ll let you know.

Stuck at the Gas Station December 15, 2008

So here’s how my night went last Monday.  My friend Jamie called me around 5 and asked if I wanted to come over.  We hung out at her house for a little while, but Jamie hadn’t been having the best day and needed to get out of her house.  So we decided to go to…brace yourself for the excitement…Wal-Mart (there’s not much else to do in Sonora).  We purchased an assortment of random things and then decided to get some dinner.  We went up the hill to Round Table and got a pizza and one of Jamie’s friends, I think her name was Sharon, met us there.  When Sharon arrived she announced that she wanted to do some Christmas shopping and wanted to know if we wanted to go with her.  We agreed and, surprise surprise, she wanted to shop at Wal-Mart.  Jamie and I got into her car only to find out that it wouldn’t start.  Well isn’t that just peachy.  We decided to hitch a ride to the store with Sharon, and then on our way back we could try to jump-start her car.

After spending about an hour in Wal-Mart (again), we made it back to Round Table, this time with Sharon’s husband who successfully managed to jump-start Jamie’s car.  Yay!  But then Jamie noticed she was very low on gas.  Boo!  Across the street from Round Table was a Shell station and a Taco Bell.  Jamie’s friends said that while we got gas, they would go to Taco Bell, and then once they got their food they would come over to make sure we got going again.  Apparently after jump-starting a car, you’re supposed to leave that car running for at least 15 minutes.  We were not aware of this rule, so, of course, Jamie’s car refused to start after we got gas.  We waited for her friends to get their food from the drive-through, and while we were waiting we noticed a strange ticking noise coming from Jamie’s car.  I told her it was Patrick the car gremlin.  Jamie opened the hood and found that the noise was coming from the fuse box (the natural habitat of the car gremlin), but since neither one of us are big car people, we were afraid to touch anything.

Meanwhile, as Patrick continued to type out his last will and testament in Morse Code, Jamie’s friends finally made it out of the drive -through (by now it’s around 9:30), but they said they wanted to eat before trying to jump-start Jamie’s car again.  I guess I missed the “thou shalt not eat and jump-start a car at the same time” commandment.  Whatever.  We waited.  And waited.   And waited.  That bag of food from Taco Bell turned into a clown car.  The burritos just kept coming!  Eventually they did finish eating, and Jamie and I thought we were finally going to be able to go home.  We were wrong.  Jamie’s car still refused to start.  I guess we had pissed off Patrick one too many times, and he was not going to let us leave.

Luckily (or so I thought) I have roadside assistance insurance through AT&T, so I figured it was a good time to use it and just get a tow truck.  After talking with Shakita for about 20 minutes, during which time I had to tell her about 3 times that I was in Sonora, not Sonoma, I was put on hold.  I got to listen to some stereotypical crappy jazz hold music (think Kenny G), followed by some blusey stripper song (that was kind of fun), and finally Shakita told me she would call once she was able to get us a tow truck.

And so we waited.  And waited.  And while we were waiting we suddenly heard: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!  You know that squealing sound hearing aids make when the battery is dying?  That’s what a dying car gremlin sounds like.  Fast forward to 11:30 (random fact: during our 2 hour wait Taco Bell’s door fell off, but don’t worry!  they fixed it), the tow truck finally came!  Yay!  Jason the nice tow truck man was greeted by me and Jamie jumping up and down, cheering and laughing like idiots.  We had never been so happy to see a tow truck.  Jason managed to get Jamie’s car going again, and after almost 2 1/2 hours at the gas station, we were able to go home.

When Furbies Attack December 1, 2008

Black Friday has come and gone, and with all the madness I’ve been curious as to what this year’s must-have toy is going to be.  You know, the one that all whiny five-year-olds want and soccer moms will have wrestling matches in the aisles of Toys R Us to get.  A few years ago, the big toy that everyone had to have was the Furby–those creepy talking owl type things.  Well, a few years ago during my junior year in high school, on a very bizarre school trip to San Francisco, I got bit by a Furby.

This trip was memorable for several reasons.  My friend Kira set off the emergency exit alarm on the way there, John (the bus driver) got pulled over, we passed a car that had been saran-wrapped to a tree (which really isn’t that odd to see in San Francisco), and at the end of the trip a very nice gay man sang Christmas songs to us while we waited for the bus.  Despite all of that, the most memorable part of the trip came on our way home.

The reason for the field trip to San Francisco was to visit the Museum of Modern Art.  After leaving the museum, we had a couple of hours to kill before getting back on the bus.  My friend Jamie and I decided to get some lunch and do some shopping.  We decided to go into FAO Schwartz, which ended up being a very very bad idea.  As we stepped onto the second floor of the store, I heard Jamie squeal, “Baby Furbies!  I’ve always wanted one of those!”  There was a mountain of Furbies in front of us, probably overstock from the previous Christmas, and they were on sale.  Naturally, Jamie had to get one, and a little while later we were back on the bus and headed home.  Here’s how the rest of the trip went:

“Does anyone have any batteries?” Jamie asked.

“I do,” I replied.  “What do you need them for?”

“I want to put them in the Furby.”

Why I gave her the batteries, I’ll never know.

Brandon, another friend on the trip, gave Jamie his pocketknife in order to get the screws out of the bottom of the Furby to put the batteries in.  As soon as the last battery was in the Furby came to life, and Jamie put the screws back in.

“Why did you put the screws back in?” I asked.  “What if you want to take the batteries back out?”

“I won’t need to take the batteries out,” Jamie said.  “If he gets annoying the instructions say to put him in a dark place and he’ll go to sleep.”

Ten minutes later…”Jamie, make that Furby shut up!”

The Furby had been talking non-stop and people were getting ready to chuck it out the window.  Jamie put the Furby behind us and covered it with a blanket so it would go to sleep.  According to the instructions, it should have gone to sleep in only a couple minutes.  They lied.  We tried piling blankets and sweatshirts on top of the Furby to block out the noise, but that probably just pissed it off.  Finally, after Jamie had been yelled at by just about everyone on the bus to shut her Furby up, I suggested she just take the batteries out.  Brandon gladly loaned us his pocketknife again.  Jamie had put the screws back in too tight and was having problems getting them out, so I offered to try.  This turned out to be another very bad idea.  Apparently I had placed by hand over the Furby’s face, and as I was trying to get the screws out that evil possessed gremlin chomped down on my finger!  I had been bit by a Furby.  However, victory was soon mine as I finally got the batteries out and a wonderful silence filled the air.

So what’s the moral of story?  Other than “don’t ever buy a Furby or any other creepy talking toy ever ever ever…,” there really is no moral.  And I am happy to report that since that day, the Furby has remained battery-free.

Don’t let it’s cute exterior fool you.  Inside, this demon gremlin is just waiting to annoy the crap out of you and bite your fingers off.

A Well-Deserved Fate November 24, 2008

Anyone who knows me knows that I hate crocs.  I do not care that they are supposedly the most comfortable shoes on the planet; they look like giant clown shoes made out of dried play-doh.  Thanks to stumbleupon, everyone’s favorite time waster, I found this comic that made my day.

The Great Jam Thief of 2008 November 20, 2008

I never thought I would be able to say the sentence, “A little old lady stole my jam.”  Well, now I can.

So on Saturday, I went to a Relief Society luncheon in Modesto.  On each table were two small bowls of butter and jam for the biscuits.  My mom and I were sitting at a table with about 5 or 6 other women, chatting and minding our own business while enjoying our bunny food lunch (seriously, this lunch was 2 kinds of salad and a piece of chicken.  why do women always insist on serving just salad at relief society activities?  i am not a rabbit!  give me real food).

Anyways, out of the corner of my eye I saw a hand reaching in between me and my mom.  I assumed this was someone who knew either my mom or me, and I thought she was going to tap one of us on the shoulder and say hi.  Nope!  Our entire table froze, some with forks hovering in the air mid-bite, as we watched this woman reach in, grasp her hand around the bowl of jam, jerk her arm back, and take off.  What?!  Everyone at our table just kind of looked at each other with “did that really just happen?” looks on their faces.  A little old lady stole our jam.  And I wanted that jam, too.

She could have asked to borrow the jam.  She could have walked across the hall to the kitchen and gotten more jam.  But no.  She decided to pull some weird Mission Impossible sneak-and-grab move to steal our jam.  One thing would have changed this whole situation from awkward to awesome, and that is if she had snuck up on us and started humming her own theme music, a la Kronk in The Emperor’s New Groove.

Marc Jacobs is My Current Favorite Ugly Shoe Designer November 19, 2008

Don’t get me wrong, Marc Jacobs has also designed some fabulous shoes, but occasionally he comes out with shoes that make you want to bang your head against the desk and say, “why? Why?!”

Allow me to present Exhibit A, the wedge tennis shoe:

Some things are great when combined.  Peanut butter and jelly.  Cookies and milk.  You get the idea.  However, some things are better left separate.  Tennis shoes should never have heels.  Ever.  Just stash these in the museum of bad ideas along with

New Coke, Crystal Pepsi, and these beauties.

Moving on to Exhibit B, the creepy Mary Jane boots:

Normally, I have nothing against Mary Janes (unless they have an ugly heel–Traci turned me into a heel snob).  In fact, after watching the movie Penelope I have been wanting my own pair of green Mary Janes.

So cute!

Anyways, these boots by Marc Jacobs creep me out.  Not as much as spiders or Richard Simmons, but they’re still creepy.  Why would anyone want a shoe that looks like it has half a leg sticking out of it is beyond me.

Finally, I give you Exhibit C, the backwards heel shoe:

Dear Marc Jacobs,

Seriously?

Sincerely, Me

’nuff said