Random Confessions

Confession: I don't care for Michael Buble.  I know I'm supposed to like him, but the truth is, I don't trust anyone who was born after 1970 but claims to be "nostalgic" for the 1940's.

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Confession: I love real butter.  Salted real butter.  Salted, ORGANIC real butter.  I have been known to bake a tube of pre-made biscuits and consume at least a half a stick of butter with those biscuits over the course of a day.  (Okay, it was yesterday.)

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Confession: I cried when I read about Jesse James cheating on Sandra Bullock.  I really thought they were the real deal.

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Confession: I think tattoos make a person look unprofessional, unless the tattoos are on the face.  Then the person just looks insane.

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Confession: I talk to myself, and occasionally say things that really surprise me.

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Confession: I have never dusted anything voluntarily.  When I was younger, I was firmly convinced that dusting accomplished nothing, and I have not changed that view.

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Confession: Chocolate icing is wasted on cake.  Straight from the tub is the way to go.

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Confession: When I learn that a celebrity has undergone cosmetic surgery, I think less of that person.

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Confession: My inner monologue swears a lot.

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Confession: I judge any celebrity or politician based on their performance on Saturday Night Live.  I still don't like Michael Buble, but the sketch he did with Jon Hamm entitled "Hamm and Buble" was hilarious.  I am now lukewarm on the Bubs.

That is all.

Spring Break in the Valley of the Dinosaurs

Little known fact: dinosaurs once lived in Texas.  And I don't mean H. Ross Perot.

No, I mean actual, real dinosaurs.  They roamed freely throughout the Texas Hill Country, presumably until hipsters opened too many coffee bars and they became extinct.  Fortunately, Dinosaur Valley State Park in beautiful Glen Rose, Texas, memorializes this lost time in history for those with patience and a full tank of gas.

Here is Princess sitting in the fossilized footprint of a Sauropod, the class of dinosaurs that include Brontosaurus.

Here are Sven and Princess crossing the river to see more fossilized dino prints.

 Here is Dexy, sitting with me with his feet in the water.  That's as far as I got.

After exhausting ourselves at Dinosaur Valley State Park, we visited Dino World, which features hundreds of life-size models of dinosaurs on an outdoor path.

Welcome to Dino World!

 I don't trust that one, Mommy.

Run! Quick! I don't want to end up like Newman!

 You guys are funny.

 And we're done.  Home again, now!

Unfortunately, pictures cannot capture the way Dexy ran from dinosaur to dinosaur, screaming in fright when he saw each new one, but saying, "Bye, Dinosaur!" in a very friendly way when we moved on.

Neither can pictures capture the elaborate narrative Princess crafted, in which each dinosaur we approached told us, "You will not pass!" and then she would say, "Yes, but I am Princess, and I am a friend to all the unicorns!  You must let me pass!"  And then they would have a conversation about all of their mutual acquaintances, and we would leave as soon as the dinosaur had told Princess how beautiful she is.

It runs in the family.

Truth, Lies, and Burgers

Scene: Deb's car, after day care.

Players:

• Deb, a ravishingly beautiful yet understated working mom who manages to juggle home, family, work, and church without letting it show (other than that pesky facial tic and a nagging tendency to laugh wildly to fill silence), 23*
• Princess, Deb's adorable daughter, 4
• Dexy, Deb's impish son (non-speaking role), 2

Princess: Mommy, I have to talk to you about something serious.

Deb: What is it, my baby?

Princess: If you tell someone you are going to do something, and you don't do it, that's a lie.

Deb: That's right.

Princess: If you tell someone you are going to do something, then you should do it, because if you don't, that's a lie, and you're a LIAR.

Deb: Yes, honey.

Princess: And I don't trust liars, because sometimes liars will tell you that you're going to get something, and then you don't get it, and they lied to you, and you can't trust them anymore.

Deb: What happened, honey?

Princess:  Someone lied to me.

Deb: Who?

Princess: Someone who I trusted to do something good and nice, but they lied to me and I don't trust them.

Deb: What are you talking about, sweetie?

Princess:  If I say I want a hamburger, and they say I'm going to get a hamburger, and they give me chicken, then they lied to me.

Deb: What-

Princess: And then when they tell me, "You're going to get a cookie," and then they don't give me a cookie, I can't trust them.

Deb: Huh?

Princess: And not just me...they lied to DADDY.  Which is the worst thing of all.

Deb: Princess, what are you talking about?

Princess: We can't go to Whataburger anymore. They are liars who I don't trust who lied to me and gave me CHICKEN.

Deb: We haven't been to Whataburger in two weeks.

Princess: Because they are LIARS.

Deb: Okay, no more Whataburger.

Princess: Let's go to McDonald's.

Fin.

*32**

**35

Hanging on

I have a cold, again.  I'm coughing and not sleeping well and living on a constant diet of Fruit Breezers and water.  Time to count blessings.

1. Conan O'Brien has started a wonderful running joke on Twitter involving Justin Bieber.

2. Kevin Federline had a really important breakthrough on Celebrity Fit Club this week.

3. That horribly obnoxious girl on Sober House has been kicked out for punching a cameraman (on-camera!).

4. Lost continues to confound me, in a wonderful way.

5. Bret Michaels' bandana is getting its own show on VH-1, "Baldness Camouflage of Love," in which it must choose between 17 handkerchiefs to find its true love.  (Not really, but it's a great show inside my head.)

6. The guy on Tool Academy who cries all the time is still there.

7. Sven has not, to my knowledge, had an affair with a tattoo model with the nickname "Bombshell" who claims to have been "raised Amish."

8. New Moon: The Movie has been released on home video, which has proved to be a surprisingly effective sleep-aid.  Seriously, I can't stay awake through it, and I loved it in the theater.  Sigh.

9. The Princess and the Frog was surprisingly watchable.

10. Dexy has learned several new words and phrases, most of which I find encouraging rather than alarming: "Fire, again, dinosaur, one more time, help, knife, purse."  He also puts on Princess' shoes, grabs one of her play purses and hoists in onto his shoulder, puts on a pair of my sunglasses, and shouts "Bye, Mommy!" before tromping his way to the door, pausing, then announcing, "I'm back!"

Awesome.  I already feel better.

Living On The Line

Oh, how I adore teh interwebz.  (That's "the internet" to those of you who are LOL-deficient.)  I have found several ways to make modern technology work for me, in terms of wasting time.

(For the record, I in no way consider blogging to be a waste of time, so that is definitely not on the list.  Anything that makes me think this hard is not a waste of time.)

Yesterday I took Sven to an appointment with a "pain management" doctor.  Finally, I thought, we were going to get some answers about his chronic back pain, maybe even some relief!  Instead, we experienced a cruel irony: we did paperwork for over an hour, waited another hour, got into the office at 3:15 for our 2:30 appointment, sat back with a nurse answering questions we had just spent over an hour answering, all to have the doctor come in at 3:45 and announce that he wouldn't have time to do Sven's appointment, but they would call that afternoon and schedule a new one.  (For the record, it is almost 9:00 a.m. the next day, and they still haven't called.  If they haven't called before I finish this entry, there will be Deb to pay.)

So, by my reckoning, we spent nearly 4 hours (including driving time) with this doctor in what turned out to be a colossal waste of time.  Here, in order, is how I could have spent those 4 hours far more productively:

1. iPod Apps: I have several, including TapWord, My Town, Sudoku, Ask the Hoff, and Flashlight, but my favorite has to be Tap Fish: This is an app on my iPod that allows me to feed, breed, buy, sell, and flush virtual fish.  They die if I don't check in every so often.  (One can revive the fish for coins, just like in real life!)

2. Island Paradise: This has to be my all-time favorite waste of time online.  I can spend hours and several REAL dollars updating and rearranging my personal island, accessed via Facebook.  Here is a recent photo:

I'm so proud.

3. Happy Island and Happy Aquarium: These Facebook Apps cannot suck up as much time as Island Paradise, but they each require me to check in a few times a day to get the maximum benefit.  I have, thus far, resisted spending any real money on either of these, though Happy Island now boasts a Lost-style foot statue that I simply must have.

4. Kindle: Also on my iPod is my Kindle app, which lets me purchase and download Kindle books and read them on my iPod.  I love this, particularly downloading free books.  I've paid for a couple, but the majority of my library is free books.  For the record, I have yet to actually read an entire book on my Kindle, but I'm about halfway through Bram Stoker's Dracula.  (The book, not the completely awesome terrible 1992 film starring Gary Oldman and Winona "I Had A Future" Ryder, not to mention Keanu Reeves boasting a "British" accent.  Now I'm inspired to shape my hair into buttocks and drift about in a red housecoat for the rest of the day.  But I digest.)

5. Twitter: I recently coerced Paul F. Tompkins, one of my favorite comedians, to respond to a tweet I sent to him.  His tweet to me: "Agreed."  That's just the encouragement I need to continue cyber-haunting my favorite celebrities, hoping they will respond to me with just as much feeling and consideration as Humanitarian of the Year Paul F. Tompkins.

They still haven't called.

In Which Deb Attempts to Do the Dishes

5:30 a.m.: It's Saturday, I could sleep longer, but maybe I'll be good today and go downstairs and get some housework done.  The dishes haven't been touched all week...maybe I can load up the dishwasher before the kids get out of bed.

5:35 a.m.: Back from the bathroom, now both children are in my bed, fast asleep with Sven.  Yep, might as well go downstairs.

5:40 a.m.: Having stubbed three toes and bruised two shins because I didn't want to turn on any lights, I arrive in the living room.

5:42 a.m.: Ah, an empty recliner and an unoccupied TV.  I'll watch the end of this Law & Order and then do the dishes.

5:45 a.m.: Hello, children.  Yes, you can have cheese.  Let me get up to get it for you, then I'll sit in the recliner until the end of Law & Order and do the dishes.

5:47 a.m.: Yes, you may have some water, I'll get it for you, then I'll sit in the recliner until the end of Law & Order and do the dishes.

5:49 a.m.: I'll help you clean up the water, then I'll sit in the recliner until the end of Law & Order and do the dishes.

5:50 a.m.: I'll change your clothes after your sister spilled ice cold water all over you, and you can sit in the recliner with me until the end of Law & Order.

5:57 a.m.: There, nice and dry, and we missed the verdict.  Oh, well, another one is coming on...

6:47 a.m.: I must have dozed off with a nice warm baby boy in the recliner.  I guess I can get the verdict on this one, even though I have no idea what the case is.

6:48 a.m.: Oh, it's this one.  Yeah, it's a good one.  I'll watch until the verdict, then get up and do the dishes.

6:59 a.m.: I knew she did it.  Now to the dishes!

7:00 a.m.: Having put away one clean plate, something explodes/bleeds/cries/complains.

Repeat every two minutes until 9:30 a.m.

9:30 a.m.: Good morning, Dear, would you like some breakfast?

9:35 a.m.: Serve breakfast to Sven and children.

9:37 a.m.: Sit down with my breakfast.

9:39 a.m.: Clean up milk spill.

9:41 a.m.: Sit back down with my breakfast.

9:42 a.m.: Kiss wounded finger; insist child come to me so I can stay seated.

9:45 a.m.: Having enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, I now proceed to the kitchen to finish the dishes, having gotten a momentous head start by putting away most of the clean dishes.  In the bottom rack, anyway.

9:52 a.m.: Sven falls asleep in the recliner.  Children discover cache of fireworks in dining room and begin to quietly construct elaborate pyrotechnic display.

9:53 a.m.: Choosing to ignore the fireworks because at least they are playing quietly, I scramble to finish the dishes.

10:00 a.m.: Demands for cheese resume and continue for the next two hours.

12:00 p.m.: The dishwasher loaded, I retreat up the stairs for a solitary nap, knowing I have accomplished something in my day.

12:02 p.m.: Dexy joins me for a solitary nap.

Fin

My Secret Blog Entries

One of the nice things about blogging, one of my prime defenses of it, you might say, is the catharsis that comes from writing about things.  Putting your thoughts or feelings down, particularly when things are careening around my brain.

If you ever read Stephen King's "Firestarter," you are familiar with the concept of "Ricochet."  In the book, Andy McGee, who participated in secret government drug tests in the 1960's, has the ability to "push" people into saying or doing things.  The talent is referred to as "mental domination."  There is a danger, though, that someone who has been "pushed" can develop a "ricochet," in which long-buried trauma, obsessions, or secrets emerge and begin careening around the person's brain until the person goes insane or worse.

I can relate.

I am a worrier.  When something bad happens to me, or to someone I know, I get upset about it.  I worry about it.  I get physically sick over it.  It goes, around and around in my brain, until I would do just about anything to forget about it.  Of course, over time it lessens, and eventually goes away.  It usually stays away, too, unless an almost identical problem pops up again.

One of the ways I cope with this is to write wordy, sometimes scathing blog entries in which I detail every single thing I could say if I was allowed to.  Then I delete the entry, so I can't go back over and obsess over it.  The ricochet now quieted, I can go back to my life.

Unfortunately, that is no longer working; the past two weeks have been that hard.  (Nothing huge, but just a lot of things happening at once.)  I'm feeling the need now to talk to an actual human being, an urge I almost never have.  Someone who will listen to me, provide some feedback about what is reasonable and what isn't, and give dispassionate, sensible advice with just a hint of caring.

Oprah, here I come.

Deb's Post-Oscar Round Up (Or, Tweet Your Heart Out)

(Spoiler alert: if you haven't watched this year's Oscars, now you won't have to.  Trust me, I'm doing you a favor.)

Twitter is a heckler's dream.  As long as each individual comment is 140 characters or less (and any good heckler knows that lengthy heckles lose their punch), Twitter provides a forum for real-time snark unparalleled by anything in real life.

When I think of all the heckles that have gone, unheard, into the ether, I get a little misty.  Now that I have Twitter, my heckles will all be as well-preserved as Barbara Streisand.

"Live tweeting" is when people participate in an event (movie, television show, reading of "Remembrance of Things Past") and tweet their responses in real time.  Some of the more memorable live tweets include "Twitflix," when several comedians attended a screening of some terrible films and all tweeted, to the possible litigation of the producing studio, and Al Sharpton giving commentary during Michael Jackson's funeral.

In this spirit, last night I live-tweeted the Oscars.  Full disclosure: it has been years since I saw all of the films in contention for Best Picture, and even then I watched most of the nominees after the awards.  For the last five years or so, I haven't even bothered to check out the nominees after the awards are given, and now that they have expanded the field to 10 nominees for best picture, I am even less likely to do so (though I did see "Up" this year).

Although I am not terribly invested in the awards themselves, I adore award shows as a form of entertainment in and of themselves.  That is the criteria I was using to judge last night's show: not whether or not the awards were right or fair, but how did the show rate as entertainment.

This year didn't even rate a "meh."  If I had to express my opinion of the show in one non-word sound, I would say, "phbbt."  It was, to put it bluntly, terrible.

Here, in no particular order, are my "beefs" with the Oscar telecast this year:

1. They cut out the performances of Best Original Song, but put in a bizarre, lengthy dance number to showcase Original Score.  If cutting Original Song was a way to cater to the audience's preference to avoid momentum-stopping music that no one cares about, their decision to keep the Original Score dance number is a mortal insult to all of the nominated songwriters.

2. Though they did John Hughes justice with a nice tribute to his work, the other memorialized actors were given very short shrift.  The focus seemed to be more on James Taylor, who performed the accompaniment to the montage; Patrick Swayze's two seconds, at the beginning of the montage, were not televised because they were still showing James.  In addition, the tribute did not mention Farrah Fawcett or Bea Arthur, who, though principally known for television work, did appear in at least as many films as Michael Jackson.

3. Though it was, apparently, too much trouble to properly memorialize the dead, the living got plenty of tributes. The 10 nominees for lead actor opened the show, onstage, each giving a little speech, then each was introduced by a co-star or producer or friend in a sometimes awkward "tribute" before each was, again, announced as a nominee, said announcement accompanied by a lengthy clip.  Enough already!  Please!  We get it!  They're better than us!  And everyone else!


4. Several of the "boring" categories (art direction, sound editing, etc.) were preceded by mini-documentaries that, again, wasted a great deal of time.  If, as they say, the Oscars are trying not to lose the mainstream public as a viewing audience, lay off!  If we care about that kind of stuff, we already know it.  If we don't care about it, you're wasting our time.


5. The "tribute to horror" was one of the worst tribute montages I've ever seen.  First, the adorable Taylor Lautner and heroin-chic poster girl Kristen Stewart give an introduction that states that the last time the Academy honored a horror film was "37 years ago," when The Exorcist won several awards.  The montage then went on to show footage from several Oscar-winning films, like "Silence of the Lambs" and "Misery."  I know those aren't new films, but they weren't made 38 years ago.  Also, the horror tribute included clips of things that are decidedly not horror, like Twilight, Twilight: New Moon, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Interview with the Vampire, Edward Scissorhands, and Chicken Run.  Okay, not Chicken Run, but only by the very loosest of definitions are any of those films "horror."  (Actually, I consider Chicken Run to be closer to horror than Edward Scissorhands.)  (Note to the Academy: having a vampire and/or werewolf in a film doesn't automatically make it horror.)


Highlights:


1. Tina Fey and Robert Downey, Jr. did a hilarious bit in which they discussed the "collaborative process" between actors and writers.  At one point, Tina fantasized about the day in which all actors would be CGI and would let the writers just do it alone, and Robert Downey Jr. referred to writers as "sickly little mole people" who allow the "handsome" people to do their job.


2. Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin taking a break backstage in a couple's Snuggie.

3. Sandra Bullock's speech.  She may not have deserved it, necessarily (I love her and think she's great, but there were definitely better performances this year), but her speech was touching, and tearful, and hilarious.  It showed why we all love her.

4. James Cameron losing to Wife No. 3.  I know the whole "ex-wife" thing was really played up, since Katherine Bigalow was the third of Cameron's five wives, they were only married for 2 years, and they have no children together, but I love to see James Cameron lose.  Losing to the first woman to ever win a Best Director Oscar was awesome, but having that woman be one of his ex-wives was really, really sweet.  (By the way, I loved how Barbara Streisand, who gave that award, wouldn't get out of the frame for a while and actually asked if she could hold the Oscar for Ms. Bigelow.  It made me smile.)

5. The John Hughes Tribute.  Or, as Sven said, "What happened to Judd Nelson?" 

But seriously, it was a touching tribute to a man who seemingly, judging by the clips, worked with everyone in Hollywood 25 years ago.

I may grouse and complain, but I'll be watching next year.  I still have to keep watching until Rob Pattinson gets the award, after all.  That pretty much guarantees I'll be watching for many, many years to come.