That’s right! I said bullshit! I have to admit that I am a paranormal junky–I watch all things ghostly, alien, foreign, disgusting, and creepy. I have watched the same haunted house stories on the history channel, the travel channel, the sci-fi channel, and “the Shining” about as repeatedly as a lonely teenage geek on a Friday night, or Saturday night, or any night for that matter. Sometimes there’s nothing else on, other times I am simply fascinated by the paranormal and why others are freaks just like me. Which is why I was so interested and intrigued by the new movie “Paranormal Activity.” How can I not spend my bank card award money on that? It has been a must-see movie all the rave, and my husband and I were determined to “must-see” it. That is, until we saw it.
It was Sunday night. Sunday is pretty scary–it’s the last day of the weekend. I’m in my glasses and pajamas (minus underwear) and am very comfortable with my boxed Merlot when my husband and I decided to escape into the paranormal. We’ve heard nothing but rave reviews and decided to review it for ourselves with great judgement, but not until he put on underwear too. We both put on pants and take the drive up the street to the local theatric watering hole where so many have met their demise. Psyched and carrying an obscenely huge tub of popcorn and diet sodas, we were surprised by the full theater and decided to pick seats up close in the line of fire expecting to jump out of our seats. Umm, that was what we were hoping.
Instead, it went more like this: we sit down, we start snarling at our popcorn as if food is a foreign, tasty substance, we laugh at a preview, we laugh at the teenagers laughing at the preview, then without warning, two dumb twenty-somethings appear on the screen and start talking to each other incoherently. “Um, honey?” I say. “Yeah, babe.” My husband says. “Is this the movie?” He says, “I think so.” Okay then, “this popcorn is delicious.” We watch and wait like a hunter hoping for a gruesome, bloody, obnoxcious death with a dear. Little did we know.
We hear some young woman’s squeeky voice bitch and moan at her boyfriend. My husband does not need to pay nine dollars to appreciate this. As a woman, even I’m rolling my eyes at her. The young, dumb man is defending himself–when will men learn? This goes on for a while; until bedtime. We hear a distant noise. It’s morning. Repeat. Always repeat. The couple’s friend comes over. She thinks the phenomenon is “weird.” She leaves after having a bucket of wine. What? I said one bucket. A psychic comes over. He says very vague things like “this thing is following you, then?” He’s the psychic, doesn’t he know? Then he leaves. This is my cue to go to the bathroom.
I sit back down and foolishly ask if I’ve missed anything. My husband: “No, not a thing.” It’s night time again in the movie and a camera is placed in the couple’s bedroom. We hear noises from outside the bedroom. The movie is called “Paranormal Acitivity” so of course the noises can’t be a mouse, or burglar, or the house settling. It must be an invisible goblin causing mischief in the kitchen looking for something to eat.
Surprisingly, the noises from another room are not terrifying me the way blood spattering out of the walls for no apparent reason could. My husband gets up to go the bathroom and to get more popcorn. He doesn’t even bother to ask if he missed anything. I resume eating my Dots out of boredom. More noises happen. Then, sheets magically lift up on their own, then a leg is lifted. No, it’s not what you think. We are supposed be afraid because her leg is moving and being dragged down a hallway. By this point, the audience is determined not to be afraid at all. We’re bored, and we’re pissed. One hour and twenty minutes later the boyfriend is thrown into the camera and that is the only time anyone jumped. One hour and twenty-one minutes later the movie ended.
I couldn’t help but think of the disappointment. I put my underwear on for this? I want my money back.
There are several shows that revolve around having many, many children. There’s the one with 14 kids–boring. There’s the one with 18–exhausting and loud and boring. Then we have the most memorable “Jon & Kate Plus 8.” For some reason this family is fascinating to the American people. This particular family can’t teach us much except that if you have 6 or more kids you are guaranteed your own reality show and an obscene amount of publicity. I first took a glimpse at the show a couple of years ago to see what all the hubub was about. I caught the episode where Kate exposed her extremely stretched out stomach to the camera. It was gross and I never tuned in again, until a couple of weeks ago where it was very unmemorable. I don’t understand what’s wrong with you people. What makes this family so great to watch?
Jon & Kate take the kids to an amusement park. The kids cry and argue about which shoes to where. Kate gives up the arguement because with 8 kids it’s just not worth it. The kids have breakfast in the car. The kids cry some more on the way to the amusement park. They go on rides. No one gets lost. Jon & Kate look as though they are at boot camp versus a happy, go-lucky day with the family going on rides. Jon & Kate do not act like a couple. They go home and the kids cry some more. The end. Of that episode. Oooh, I can’t wait ’till next week when they do something else completely mundane.
Next, Jon & Kate separate from their marriage. This becomes a “Paris Hilton in jail” kind of media circus that is the top news story before something much more important like the thousands of people who just DIED in an earthquake on the other side of the world. I’d tell you where, but there was a commercial break. Why is this anti-couple so damn important?! They broke up. Whoopty-doo. Thousands of Americans divorce every year (or is it every day–does it really matter?), but for some boring reason these two guys matter enough to be breaking news. If anything, the media is encouraging them to f*** up for our sheer amusement. “Oh no, Kate got her period, better call Fox News!”
Now the we have the famous show where we watch Kate take her 8 to the beach soon after plastic surgery for that really gross stomach. Everyone thinks she looks great. Wow. Groundbreaking entertainment. Jon is elsewhere philandering with who knows who. Some woman. And he’s not complaining about being without 8. Really? I can see why someone might get “separated” for an escape. It’s the only way to take a vacation without paying for childcare. He just fooled around to seal the deal. Kate’s just pissed she didn’t think of it first.
I was watching the news this morning, well, “Showbiz Tonight,” and for some reason Jon’s philandering is all they can talk about. Jon is not in show business and he never will be with that beer belly, short stature, and no acting ability whatsoever. Okay, whatever, I don’t produce the “news.” Anyway, what the hell is the appeal of this guy? So far I have heard of at least three woman Jon has had on the side. He’s not particularly attractive. He’s not talented in anything. Hmm, does he have a big shlong? Probably not, so I think it’s because he’s a television reality star. If they actually watched the show, they’d see that he’s kind of lazy, let’s Kate do most of the work, Jon moans a lot about doing stuff, had 8 kids with his wife then repeatedly CHEATED on her. This wasn’t “just a slip.” Come on ladies, this guy’s a loser. Plus, all of his new flings look kinda like his future x-wife, but not quite so “used.” Coincidence?
Now Kate might get her own talk show. Does she want to talk to real celebrities? What are her kids going to do? Be in the band in the corner? Who’s going to take care of them? Maybe Kate has found her own way of escaping her children, except a talk show has just as much responsibility. She likes the responsibility but doesn’t want to deal with bedtime? She has a taste of the negative limelight television has to offer and wants it to get worse and keep going? Maybe these people should be on T.V. 24 hours a day like that one Jim Carrey movie and call it “24: Jon & Kate Plus 8 Boring All The Time.” This is not the least bit interesting. Kate’s show will be cancelled before the premiere. Hard-working mothers all over the country will spill out into the streets wailing uncontrollably in protest of her neglecting her children. Some will be injured, many will die . . . from boredom.
If I had my own show where I was legally allowed to exploit my children and spouse, I might think I was special too. Maybe even occasionally entertaining. Occasionally. But I don’t have a show, and I’m not special. Jon & Kate Plus 8 is special, I guess, but not to me. Theyre eSPECIALly oblivious to the fact that they are like everybody else and seriously need to get over themselves. I just don’t care about their troubles and neither should you. We have our own struggles to deal with. This is just another story of a broken family in America. A sad story a lot of people have without having a show and legions of fans making fun of them and curious about their every move, not at all thinking about the children.
Do: Watch a lot of T.V. because what else is there to do? Dishes and laundry and bills will always be there.
Don’t: Watch a lot of T.V. because it makes you look like a monkey at the zoo learning sign language.
Once upon a time there lived a single woman who could watch “E.R.” every Thursday as her own personal religion and no one said a thing. Then she met a guy, married him willingly, and got sucked away from George Clooney and into the arms unwillingly of Captain Picard from “The Next Generation.” However, David Duchovny from the “X-Files” wasn’t so bad–he was a geeky version of Clooney. When given lemons . . .
I did, however, sneek in a few Hugh Grant movies to help my husband with his guilt after tying me up and taping my eyelids open to force me to watch reruns of “The Twilight Zone” all New Year’s Eve. Jerk. He thinks Hugh stands for all sappy guys who get the hot chick through no fault of their own. He feels there is no point and nothing original about:
1. Goofy British guy runs around town like an idiot.
2. Beautiful, unattainable woman notices goofy guy because of his accent.
3. Accent boy dates hot girl briefly then has sex even though only a half hour of screen time has gone by.
4. Goofy British guy does something stupid.
5. Beautiful, unattainable woman sits around eating ice cream and staring at the phone.
6. They both tell each other what idiots they are and fall in love and kiss and preferably happens in front of the world press.
My husband has no idea what he’s talking about. I know, because he was once an idiot too. Well, I use the term was loosely. The key here is to find a common ground usually with force in finding shows both husband and wife can watch together without whining. We like cooking shows. It sounds boring, but Gordan Ramsey can be pretty charismatic. “Project Runway” has Heidi Klum/”Die Hard” has Bruce Willis–need I say more?
Most of the time we’re lucky to even see each other and have two seconds to talk let alone watch “The Dark Knight” or “Top Chef,” but as a couple you’ve got to do it. We are part of the television generation since Clooney was on the “Facts Of Life.” So tell the kids to pick up their rooms (even though they won’t) and snuggle up on the couch like a couple of idiots.
Movies don’t make memories, you do.
“Don’t wish for things, let life evolve.” –Julia Roberts (Says the rich, beautiful, unattainable woman. What the hell does she know?)
My husband and I are huge “Terminator” fans so naturally we were curious about the new “Sara Conner Chronicles” hour long show that has a lot to do with a teenage boy, a hot robot, mom, and time travel that makes no sense. It’s way cool . . . by the fifth episode. We were half way through when it dawned on me: you know, with a teenage boy in the house and a hot teenage girl robot that does anything you command, you’d think he’d be taking advantage of the situation, but alas, network television doesn’t allow robot porn, not even on FOX. It’s okay if the robot kills people, though, and tears fistfulls of flesh off the corpse, but oh no, not hot robot sex! You know because that would just be WRONG.
Think about it–a teenage boy and a hot robot chick. She doesnt’t get her period, headaches, or nag you about dirty socks next to the bed. The kid doesn’t even have to worry about her orgasm — she can’t! You don’t have to worry about STDs or knocking her up, and she never sleeps or eats or gets tired. My husband was more than enthusiastic about this idea. Go figure.
Then I said, “What about a man robot? How come they’re not hot and doing whatever you say?” My husband kind of agreed and turned it into a point of “Why is the woman robot the good one on T.V. when she was the enemy in Terminator 3?” That’s not exactly what I was trying to say, but it’s nice to know that technology has it’s own double-standards too. Of course, like a typical woman, I would have a male robot fix my roof, clean up the monsoon of was once a basement, reaarange furniture until everything was perfect, plant a garden, bathe the kids, rob a bank, vacuum under beds, and talk to it about my problems and feelings, among other things. Gee wiz, I’d be too exhausted uploading demands to take it to bed. I think your typical woman would cause the robot to self-terminate in order to escape.
A hot chick robot wouldn’t care about escaping because guys only want a couple of things and those things are easy to program. Great. Now I have to compete with Heidi Klum and hot chick robots. It’s so unfair! Well, those are probably the same thing anyway. Only a robot could be that hot all of the time; even the Stepford Wives have their work cut out for them. I’m lucky if I can put in a pony tail without pulling a muscle.
Still, The Sarah Conner Chronicles does have an interesting gender dynamic going on. John, the future leader of humanity, spends his time going to school and taking orders from a hot robot and mom, neither of whom will let the kid take a pee without authorization. You gotta wonder how this is going to help train him for the war against the machines….probably pent up sexual frustration, and pissed off he didn’t think to get some from his hot robot. Life’s such a bitch.
I was watching Dr. Phil the other day and was astounded that such a popular show could donate an entire hour discussing the pros and cons of men wearing baggy pants, as in showing off their boxer shorts to leave very little to the imagination. Here I thought Oprah was the fashion guru. I can’t believe this is how America is spending its free time! With all the problems in this country, I think we could make better use of it discussing how to feed the hungry, clothe the poor, build homes for the homeless, create jobs for the unemployed, and even who really is the better candidate. Baggy pants? This is the least of our problems, but Dr. Phil’s guests turned it into a race, discrimination, freedom of choice issue. I can sort of see why, but come on! So what if more African-Americans where their pants below the belt, but has anyone really done an accurate count? Does it really matter? Does anyone really care?
Moms seem to care. They don’t want their sons walking around with their butt hangin’ out or girls to be oogling. Dads, on the other hand, seem to embrace this fashion trend and join in on the youthful fun. Some moms think it looks like they’re carrying a “load” for safe keeping in the back. Guys like to show off their boxers with paisleys, polk-a-dots, stripes, cartoon characters, hearts, and Merry Christmas slogans. I guess real men aren’t afraid to show their softer side, at least butt. Apparently, you’re not supposed to wear this style with tighty whiteys, but some do anyway; usually white folk.
The discrimination associated with saggy pants apparently — according to the show – has to do with the ease of concealing a weapon in the trousers of a black guy. I can see why that would urk some people off. I can hide a small pistol in my breasts, but no one is looking at me suspiciously. I can also hide a knife in my sock, or a shotgun in my purse–we can fit anything in there! Not one person looks at me funny. That’s not true, all people look at me a little funny, but they don’t think I’m carrying a cargo of ammunition in my panties. At least I don’t think so.
I don’t think this fashion statement should be banned. I wouldn’t wear my clothes this way, but I’m a white girl living in the suburbs. How would I feel if people were offended by my khakis or Burberry scarf? Actually, I’d feel fine about it–screw ‘em! I make no judgements on how guys wear their pants, but it looks so uncomfortable! My pants hangin’ off my butt would be so difficult to manuever, and imagine all the guys staring at me at the grocery store. Gross! In any case, I think we have more important things to worry about like getting along, paying it forward, banning mini-vans, and finally getting that dork out of the White House. What’s next Dr. Phil? Wearing your hat sideways? Stick to troubled marriages and feuding in-laws instead. Psychiatrists should stay away from fashion. Baggy pants is out of your league.