Stupid Cucumbers, Stupider Skinny Jeans

After watching this overreaction to bloating, I don’t feel so bad. Damn skinny jeans. Who decided that they should come back in style anyway?

I love that commercial.

[Note: Should I consider it good or bad that my Editors wrote more about this post than I did? I’m conflicted…]

UPDATE 10AM: This is it for me here today, folks. I’m off for birthday frivolity until I decide said frivolity is done. And yeah, I’m happy to turn 33. It’s just one year closer to being a crotchety 60-something in a big old house with 84 cats most of whom will be named Leroy. Or Bocefus. I haven’t decided if I like Leroy or Bocefus better for the 84 cats. :D

Anyway! See y’all in October.

Engineer’s Guide To Cats

Ha! Beware! The cute-itude will sneak up and smack you on the fanny in this video.

Fair Warning: I almost sent strawberry soda out through my nose and onto my keyboard, such was the force with which I snorted in laughter at this. Put your drink down and swallow. Now go and watch the video.

Gas Envy

There’s a gas shortage here in metro-Atlanta. The local news is all over it. I don’t know if the national guys have picked it up. On Thursday, my mother waited in line for over an hour at a QT. This morning, my father did the same at Kroger. They keep saying that gas is on the way, whoever they are. And they say that the EPA has loosened regulations so we can get gas faster. Two weeks ago, they said that we’d have gas in a week.

Well, they  are full of it. It’s hard to find a gas station with gas here in Cobb County, Georgia.

Yesterday, the gas station across the street from the service station where I was getting an oil change/emission test, began announcing that they would only have gas for another hour. To say that the people who had been waiting for an hour plus were angry is an understatement. I thought that they were going to riot.

So while my baby Sol was getting an oil change we watched the line inch forward. The real fun was in watching the line creep out of the gas station lot and block Hwy 41 (Cobb Parkway).

I guess I should explain Cobb Pkwy. It’s a major 4-lane North-South artery in Cobb County, second only to I-75 which runs parallel to it. It’s also the site of the longest perpetual simultaneous games of chicken and road racing. People drive like crazy on Cobb Pkwy. Speed limit? What speed limit? Your gramma, the one who won’t drive above 35 MPH? She’ll turn into Evil Knievel on Cobb Pkwy. Left turn lanes are seen as opportunities to intimidate the drivers in the oncoming lanes. Right turn lanes are used as a means to go faster than traffic in the driving lanes.

Cobb Pkwy is like a rural interstate with traffic lights and interesting topography and obstacles. And those traffic lights are seen as slight suggestions. Green means keep going fast. Yellow means go even faster. And red… well, red is complicated. Oh, people will stop for red lights, but only after the light’s been red for a good ten seconds. This is handy information to know if you’re on a side street trying to cross Cobb Pkwy.

Cobb Pkwy is the Bermuda Triangle of roads. Strange events happen there. And you never know if you’ll return from it. I do not exaggerate. I’ve been in four car wrecks. Three of them were on Cobb Pkwy. 

So, back to the gas station line yesterday. At that particular place on Cobb Pkwy in Acworth, in addition to the regular dare-devil atmosphere, the sight distance is limited because that lane is on the down side of a steep hill. So yesterday, people were riding hell for leather on Cobb Parkway as usual heading up that hill, only to have to slam on the brakes heading down the hill at the last second to avoid hitting the last person in the gas station line. Skreeeeeeeeech!

Oy.

People were cutting in line from a side street, which only added to the tension in the line. Other people were leaving the line, which added to the tension on Cobb Pkwy. It was a mess. At least it wasn’t during rush hour, like when my mother was in line Thursday.

According to the local NBC station, it’s not going to end for a while.

My Celebrity BFF

Gag.

You know, I just don’t understand why people worship celebrities.

Take my Jane Seymour post, for example. I was bringing the funny (or so I thought) writing about my college horse-loving possibly-lesbian roommate who loved Jane Seymour so much, and subsequently watched Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman so much in our dorm room, that I developed a rather intense and totally irrational hatred for anything Jane Seymour related. And that immediately brought out the Jane Seymour fangirls/sycophants who insisted on this blog that I was an uninformed, petty bitch for the said hatred. On the Jane Seymour fansite forum that linked to my post, they insisted that I was a schizophrenic*, bitter, jealous, stupid, uneducated single woman with bad hair writing improper literature. All that just because I hate Jane Seymour?

Well.

Let me get one thing out of the way: Trolls don’t bother me. Differing opinions don’t bother me. I don’t care if you call me everything but a child of God because of my opinion. It just doesn’t bother me. I am confidant enough in my own opinion that it doesn’t bother me when people disagree or call me names because of it.

What bothers me is slavish devotion to celebrities. And people who personalize their “relationships” with celebrities bother me even more.

Oh sure, if you’re defending your sister or cousin or mother or pal or boyfriend or lover or something, I can understand getting all het up over a criticism of that personal relation. But owning the complete series of House  on Special Edition DVD does not make Hugh Laurie your pal. Meeting Nathan Fillion at a SciFi convention does not make him your boyfriend. Knowing who Hugh Jackman was (via Oklahoma)  before he became famous as Wolverine does not mean he knows about you. And getting Gerard Butler’s signature at some publicity thingie does not make him your lover.

And posting to a Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman Forum does not make Jane Seymour your BFF. (More important, criticism of Jane Seymour does not equal criticism of you.)

Though, certainly, you can dream. Just don’t think your “personal” knowledge of celebrities means that you know them personally.

Oh sure, a lot of celebrities make an effort to give “private” information about themselves to fans. And there’s a lot of “private” information that is “leaked” to the press. Most of that is nonsense generated to create publicity and is “leaked” with the celebrity’s full knowledge and consent. The whole thing is crazy.

So yeah. When a celebrity annoys me or pisses me off or something, I’m going to write about it. And likely, it’s not going to be nice because I think celebrities are narcissistic sacks of shit and shouldn’t be worshipped with the slavish devotion they’re given.

If you want nice stuff about celebrities, go somewhere else. Go visit fan club websites or even their own websites. You’ll find other celebrity worshippers there who are just as deluded as you are. I write deluded because what you’re worshipping is fake.

Celebrities, as we know them, aren’t real people. They’re made up of bits and pieces of other people’s ideas that have been glued together to make them marketable. 

You want to idolize someone? How about your mom? How about giving her some of that slavish devotion, huh? Why not follow what’s going on in your granny’s life with the fervor you give when following some idiot celebrity’s life? Why not have a family forum where you can post about what’s happening in your sister’s life? Hell, you’ve probably got nieces and nephews who would love some of that attention.

There are plenty of everyday people who do great things and go unrecognized. Find one of them. My guess is, you already know a few. Hell, you’ve probably got a couple in your immediate family. So go call your dad and tell him how great he is for putting up with your nonsense.

Leave the celebrities to their inbred nonsensical glittery elitist little world.


* NOTE: I’ll post later about how ugly it is to use schizophrenia (or any mental illness) to make fun of someone, even when they don’t have the mental illness. I won’t post about it right now because that’s something that really pisses me off. And I like to cool down for a couple of days before I post about topics that piss me off this much. It’s never a good idea to post pissed.