Winter Classic: Expounding on the Merits of Ice Hockey

I’m sure you already have Monday, January 2 starred, circled, and highlighted on your calendar. I know I have ever since the announcement that this season’s Winter Classic NHL game would feature the Flyers and be held in Philadelphia.

In case you’re not up on all things NHL, the Winter Classic is a relatively new annual event where two NHL teams play their scheduled New Year’s game at an outdoor venue. The day is long, cold, expensive… and incredibly popular. HBO even covers the participating teams in a short miniseries which is a fascinating behind the scenes documentary even if you don’t follow hockey.

Having said all that, it’s no secret that I’m an avid fan of many sports, not just hockey. After some careful analysis and unbiased contemplation, I’ve come to the conclusion that hockey may not be the most popular sport in the USA, but objectively speaking, it’s the most impressive.

1. The Athletes:

Hockey players get a bad rap for their missing teeth and stitched faces, but the reality is, they are probably the best conditioned athletes of any sport as a whole. Hockey players require the cardio training of basketball and soccer players, the strength and toughness of football players, and the agility and coordination of baseball, tennis, and most other sports.

In most other sports, you can compensate for missing pieces of the puzzle with other skills. Not the greatest runner? That’s ok, you can play first base. Not the strongest guy on the team? That’s ok, you can play wide receiver. A little overweight? No problem, you’re a pitcher, or a lineman, or an outfielder.

Not in hockey. You better be tough, strong, well-conditioned, and agile. That’s a minimum. Specific skills and positions are the icing, not the cake like in other sports. Oh, and you have to do it all on skates at break neck speeds.

Have you ever seen the inside of a hockey locker room? From the neck down it’s like a waiting room for a Calvin Klein casting. Perfectly muscular, Greek warrior physiques isn’t a plus, but a requirement. Check out a baseball or football locker room. With several exceptions, it’s more of a casting for a Hardees commercial.

2. Watchability/Pacing:

I love baseball. I love baseball because I love numbers, stats, and white noise. There’s something comforting about having the TV on even if you’re not watching it. It’s a reminder that there’s a bigger world outside of your own little microcosm which helps put the stress of everyday life in perspective. The baseball season is great for that. For several months out of the year there is something to glow on my TV every night while I do laundry, clean up from dinner, take care of the kids, prepare for work the next day, eventually doze off on the couch… Baseball: the sport you can watch without watching.

From a pure watchability and pacing standpoint, however, hockey is the opposite and superior to other sports. Intense from buzzer to buzzer. Rife with momentums shifts, physical confrontation, sleek scoring plays, impressive skill and stick handling. It’s the perfect mix of team effort and individual expertise compacted into nonstop action.

Football is 45 minutes of movement and 3 hours of standing around. Baseball is 3 hours of standing around. Soccer is 1.5 hours of movement and 38 seconds of excitement.

Hockey is the only sport that combines nearly constant action with constant excitement. Sure there are whistles, but they’re not built into the game like football. I guess a similar argument could be made for basketball, although there are many more stoppages than in hockey. Plus, a basketball game is meaningless until the last two minutes, unlike hockey where every play matters. More importantly, I don’t like basketball.

Love it or hate it, it’s hard to argue that hockey isn’t the most fast-paced, intense, and action-packed of all the major sports.

3. Atmosphere/Fans:

There are several other arguments we could make about the superiority of hockey, but I will leave you with just one more point to keep the magic number to three.

I don’t care if you hate hockey and swore you’d never go to a game. It’s true they’re expensive, and if your local team is beloved like ours, they’re crowded and difficult to attend. But I promise you, there is nothing, NOTHING, like seeing a home team score a goal live.

I’ve been to many sporting events and my favorite experience of all is the eruption of a hockey stadium when your team scores. There is no word other than eruption to describe it. The air horn blares, every fan jumps to his or her feet in one collective, unanimous scream that echoes throughout the indoor stadium. I get chills just thinking about it. Watching on TV can’t replicate that feeling of elation, that roar, that instant connection with twenty thousand other fans who are now your best friends for two hours.

Hockey fans are hardcore. You don’t spend $80 for two tickets, $15 for parking, $125 for a jersey, and $75 for food because it’s a fun thing to do with the guys after work (baseball). You don’t tag along with your neighbors because there’s going to be a kickin’ tailgate party beforehand and you always said you wanted to try a game at least once in your lifetime (football). You go because you love hockey and you know you’ll be surrounded by several thousand other people who love hockey.

This is a not a casual Sunday afternoon at the ballpark. When I go to games, I don’t leave my seat. At the end of regulation you stand and stretch, your rear sore from balancing on the edge of that hard plastic seat for two and a half hours. Your voice is hoarse from screaming. You’ve exchanged smiles, high fives, and conversation with at least a dozen strangers around you. And you don’t even care that you’re going to sit in the parking lot for an hour trying to get out of your space.

You don’t care, because you just watched some of the best athletes in the world compete in one of the most intense, exciting games on the planet.

Monday is the Winter Classic. Go Flyers.

Adventures in Zoology: A Wildlife Observation of the Simon Property

When you live on a farm, you expect to be surrounded by animals. When you live in a remote mountainside cabin, you expect to be surrounded by animals. When you live on a large tropical estate, you expect to be surrounded by animals. When you live on a third of an acre in a populated eastern Pennsylvanian suburban development, you expect to be surrounded by shrubs and nosy neighbors.

Not us.

How we ended up somewhere between a Hitchcock movie and Snow White’s fairyland forest is beyond me, but our little piece of the pie must break some kind of record for wild fauna per square foot. We have an entire woodland ecosystem coexisting in our fifteen trees lining the edge of our backyard. This is the story of what lies behind the sliding glass patio door that serves as a portal into this strange, unexpected world.

1. The Squirrels

It could have been cute.  We actually have frolicking squirrels. They don’t run, they don’t work, they actually frolic. One of these days they WILL burst into song and my poor tortured cat will be even more frantic locked behind the glass door as they taunt her from the safety of our yard.

I remember one day in spring when a handful of young ones darted past the window. Then another. Then this terrifying flood of squirrel nation tore by, frolicking gaily with their little evil squirrel grins because somehow they know we don’t have a BB gun and we wouldn’t have the guts to use it if we did.

Even on Christmas day with temperatures hovering in the 30’s and 40’s we watched them parade around the patio, daring us to protest their presence. Daring us to face them like men. Of course, we cowered behind the glass as usual. My father seemed to think squirrels were supposed to hibernate. Not our squirrels. They never rest. Score one for Hitchcock.

2. The Groundhog

This is not your neighborhood groundhog. This is a suburban walrus. I still remember the day it first waddled up to the infamous sliding glass door, taking its turn at approaching the entrance to the human world. I don’t know what it was trying to do, or where it was trying to go, or why it chose our door of all places, but my first instinct was to marvel at the otter. I took some pictures, my cat went nuts, and yes, I thought about rabies. But then again, for four years I’ve lived with a door that attracts everything from frogs to stray cats to snakes to yes, squirrel hordes, so having strange animals hovering around outside is par for the course.

Upon later reflection, my superior reasoning skills determined it was probably not an otter. Or a beaver (my second choice). I also ruled out land-dwelling manatee and trunkless elephant. To be fair, I’d forgotten about the existence of groundhogs. When I remembered, groundhog seemed more responsible. Thirty pounds of groundhog.

I’ve since discovered its home by our neighbor’s fence. It does kind of resemble a beached sea creature when it lounges in the sun. Lazy thing. Snow White would have no use for it. Score two for Hitchcock.

3. The Fox

As if it’s not strange enough to have a fox roaming around your small yard, ours only has three legs. I’m sure there’s a story there. I’m sure I don’t care.

Have you ever heard a fox bark? We were terrified the first time we heard a blood-curdling screaming child in our driveway. We sped to the window only to see this scraggly rat of a thing chatting with the neighbor’s dogs. It was not the sleek, fuzzy animal you’ve seen in cartoons and on National Geographic. It was more of large matted cat. With a pointy nose and three legs. It’s hard to imagine it seducing another animal into conforming to its will a la the classic fables. (Except maybe out of pity.)

I can’t see Hitchcock doing much with such an unappetizing, pathetic villain. I can’t see Snow White including it in her circle of dancing forest friends. No, the fox is just another of the woodland abnormalities unique to our yard.

Listed above are just a few of the highlights of what you can expect from our small urban wonderland. We also have deer, snakes, birds of every variety, chipmunks, a mole, a frog, and a giant toad. And all of these (except the mole) have been observed from behind the sliding glass door. I hate to imagine what we’d find if we actually lived in the woods.

Call Me Scrooge

Ok, I’ll admit it. I may need a visit from the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future. Actually, that’s not true if their main purpose is to turn a raisin of a weasel into a legitimate human being. But if they’re also supposed to make people like Christmas movies, then they should fly in and take the guest room. They’ve got their work cut out for them.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the Christmas holiday. It’s a time for family, celebration, and for us, has strong religious implications. In fact, we just had a Christmas baby. Our very own Christmas angel, Gabriel.

But Christmas movies. And they’re on an endless loop not for a couple days. Not even a week. Now it’s like two months. Soon we’ll be counting down to Christmas on ABC Family starting in September.

I was going to review some movies in the spirit of the season, but it’s impossible. I don’t know enough adjectives to write multiple reviews of the exact same movie with different actors and slightly different plot points.

There’s only been one good Christmas movie in the past twenty years – Elf. Everything else is straight up cheese and a complete waste of time. Don’t try to convince me otherwise. I unknowingly married the president of Santa’s fan club. I’ve been tortured with pieces of all of them for several years now. I lose complete control of the TV and DVR for the entire month of December.

That may be harsh. Maybe it’s my scrooginess whining in generalities. Maybe it’s from too much cable guide scrolling on the upstairs TV looking for ANYTHING other than titles like Christmas in Handcuffs, 25 Dates for Christmas, A Career Woman Thinks She Has It All Until It’s Christmas And She’s Alone And Realizes There’s So Much More To Life (Oh, And The Humble Plumber Is Totally Hot And Shows Her The Real Meaning Of Christmas).

Ok, so those may not be actual titles, but you’re nodding because you know exactly what I’m talking about and they very well could be. Those are the ones that ruin the genre for jaded skeptics like me. There may still be good ones out there, but I will miss them because I’ll be darned if I spend two hours of my precious little free time watching a waitress plot with her friends to trick the cute bartender into posing under the mistletoe only to find out in the end that she only had to ask. See, he liked her too.

Wait… no! No! Scrooge would have fired her butt in the opening scene for sexual harassment, lack of productivity, and creating a disruptive work environment. As he should have. I can’t argue with that.

My equally skeptical college roommate and I had a phrase for this phenomenon of Hollywood and cable assuming the laws of physics and the universe no longer apply from December 1 to December 25 (and that their audience suddenly loses 20 IQ points). We called it “Christmas Magic” and wryly applied the label to every unlikely event that occurred during the season. From an unexpected good grade on an exam to a flirty glance from the crush of the week, we would toss “Christmas Magic” as loosely as the season seemed to demand.

So here’s my review of every Christmas movie except Elf: Don’t. Watch Elf instead. After that, go buy Switchfoot’s latest album “Vice Verses.” It’s a better use of your time and money. Oh, and it’s a gift that will keep on giving long after December 25. Now that’s Christmas magic.

Weighing in on Generational Angst

There’s a generational war going on. Nothing new, and no surprise to the history books. The “Occupy” protests is our generation’s youth movement, I guess. We all think we’re more enlightened than our parents and we prove it by camping out on government property. I'm of the generation involved in the latest, and I’m torn on this one.

A big part of me wants to grab a megaphone and call my peers to attention. As a full-time working, married, young mother, it’s irritating to watch my peers demand handouts for things I worked hard for, my parents struggled for, and my grandparents never even imagined.

I want to force them into reality. That our expectations as life-starters are too high and unrealistic. We demand the life our parents have now and forget that they worked many years to get there.

Look, I get it. It’s tough, but when has it ever been easy? When has a cushy job ever been guaranteed? A house? A nice car? Some people get lucky, most don’t. It’s always been that way. People used to dig ditches in rat-infested mud holes for a living. The daily grind of going to work wasn’t battling an annoying alarm clock, it was fighting death and disease.

I graduated college at the top of my class and ended up with a low-paying admin assistant job. It wasn't ideal, but I worked hard for a few years and gained as much experience in as many areas as possible. I've since moved up into a decent wage in a good admin job. Nothing spectacular, but I'm grateful. So yeah, it's still possible to work your way up as our parents did, and most people will have to.

Remember, our parents are probably only making $50-60k after decades of working. Why are we expecting to make that straight out of the box? I read an article sympathizing with the protestors and their plight. The jobs available to them are only in the $25-30k range. How can they be expected to build a life on that?

Really? $25-30k for a first job sounds pretty darn good. How much do you think our parents were getting at the bottom of their corporate ladders? Proportional to that, I suspect. Probably less, actually. The article was right, you can’t raise a family comfortably on that. Our parents couldn’t either. That’s why they struggled to make ends meet when we were children. My parents chose to get married, pool resources, live frugally, and make it work.

Why can’t we do that? We can, but we don’t want to. We want our cake with extra frosting, whipped cream and a cherry. Maybe a few cherries. After all, our elders are chowing down in front of us. What about us? We’ve earned….oh wait, we haven’t done anything yet. We haven’t earned anything but delusional entitlement.

So it’s simple, right? My generation is a bunch of spoiled brat lazy punks hanging out on sidewalks and tweeting about our “socioeconomic last stand” on our iPhones. It’s a revolution! Turn on your cigarette lighter app!

It’s tempting to go there, but that’s not entirely fair. It’s not so simple. Nothing ever is. Do I wish those people would clear off the streets and apply for one of the many low-paying, but steady jobs out there? Yes, of course. But I can’t help but think maybe things are different now. Maybe they kind of have a point.

As always I can only look at myself and my journey. In the end, that’s all I have to answer for. Ethically and morally. It’s also the only life I can speak about with any authority. And when I embark on self-examination, I do wonder if I was forced to enter a different world than my parents.

It’s not pleasant to confront, but here’s the dismal truth: we’re a generation of kids raised on hopes, dreams, and promises of self-esteem and fulfillment. We were promised a world that doesn’t exist. The rainbow and kitten fantasies fed to us in school and by well-meaning caretakers and counselors have probably done us a disservice. I’m not saying we shouldn’t teach our kids to have confidence in themselves and shoot as high as they can, but telling each of us that we’re special and smart no matter how dumb and ordinary we are kind of set us up for unrealistic expectations. It was an illusion, but somewhere along the line our society decided it’s better to lie to our children and then blame and criticize them for believing us.

The adults before us have pushed out a generation of delusional dreamers. We’re kids who were never allowed to fail, never faced criticism, never told no, never glimpsed reality. We never learned how to win or lose, only that we should have fun playing the game. We were raised by Hollywood, mathematics based on feelings, trophies for breathing, subjective truth with an unhealthy fear of offending anyone by making claims of right and wrong.

We were prepared for a world that didn’t exist, sucker punched from a cushioned bubble we didn’t ask to encase us. Now we feel like we have to quit jobs when we don’t advance and give up after a few rejections because we’ve been taught to pursue success, but lied to about the failure that goes with it. The ultimate sin ingrained in our heads isn’t dependency, but spending our days being unsatisfied. And so here we are, camping out in protest of a world we were promised, but never existed.

I doubt our parents were “fulfilled” working for minimum wage on the line back in the 70's and 80's. They recognized it was a paycheck and helped make the rest of their lives possible. Our grandparents fought to put food on the table. They didn’t surf iPhones at a coffee shop. I recognize that, and maybe I’ve adapted to the real world better than some of my peers. At the same time, I can’t entirely blame them for believing the lies we were fed. They were guaranteed happiness, not the pursuit of it. Our parents were probably better prepared for their world than we are. Most of us can’t even do laundry. Forget balancing a check book or understanding the concept of sacrifice.

I’m one of the fortunate ones. Raised by “old fashioned parents” who expected me to be an adult before I was one, just like they’d been. Somehow I was ready for the world when it smacked me in the face. Somehow I learned integrity, conscientiousness, work ethic, and loyalty. Somehow I only expected what I earned, realized I wasn’t entitled to anything, that there are no free passes. That no matter how bad things are, they could always be worse. I should be grateful for what I have, generous with what I’ve been given. There are many others like me. There’s hope.

And I’ll admit, those of us who took the hard road battle frustration with young friends and family who flounder in victimhood instead of getting their hands dirty like we did. It’s not easy to surrender to early mornings and late nights while they lounge in front of gaming consoles in their parents’ house, bemoaning their lack of opportunity and all the reasons it’s not their fault.

So maybe we are just a generation of whiny youth after all, even if we have an excuse. Maybe, but when I turn back to the story of my life it seems to get more complicated yet again. Maybe our parents not only were better prepared to enter their world as adults, maybe they also entered a different one altogether.

Our older critics have conveniently not mentioned the fact that we now live in a society where you need a college degree to work at McDonalds. Those $25-30k low-paying sales, admin, and customer service jobs? Yeah, they exist. And yeah, you can work your way up. But you probably won’t get one anymore without a college degree that could put you back as much as $40-60k even if you chose the less-glamorous public university option.

My husband and I had that debt. We watched every little extra penny we were given and every little bonus we earned for several years go toward those massive bills instead of a down-payment on a house. The jobs our parents could get as an 18-year-old out of free, government-funded high school either no longer exist or generally require expensive advanced degrees now. Even though the jobs themselves may not require the knowledge and skill of a college degree, with so much competition, companies can afford to be picky. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.

And it’s all financially downhill from there. Our parents think we’re crazy for spending as much as we do starter homes compared to what they paid for theirs. I have no doubt that’s true. It is crazy, but what choice do we have? Show us the houses available for what they paid. Even with the real estate crash, housing isn't nearly as affordable as it was even 15 years ago, let alone 25 when they were looking. Maybe in some parts of the country it is, but in the northeast/mid-Atlantic region even condos are two-income burdens.

Based on what you can expect for starting salaries these days, two incomes are needed to survive anyway. This becomes particularly tricky when you introduce children to the mix. Want to know why most of us young people are starting our lives later and later? Want to know why we’re still renting apartments and not even thinking about kids well into our thirties? Because we can’t afford houses.  We especially can’t afford kids.

So you do get married. You do have a kid as a mid-twenties couple. You do both work to survive. Guess what? You get slammed again. Even though we’ve created a society where both parents have to work to get by, few families can afford to do it. Most of my salary goes to childcare costs even though we send our son to one of the least expensive, reputable daycares in the area.  We don't have the friends and family to help with childcare that the generations before us had.

Communities used to raise children, provide casseroles, relieve collective burdens. Now we’re all on our own. More expectations, less resources, less time, very little support. And yet, families can no longer survive on one income, so we have to scrape by. We make out our monstrous weekly check to the daycare and monthly payment to the mortgage company.

What do we do? We can't afford to work. We can't afford not to. We need to take on massive debt to get a job that won’t pay back the loan. If we wait to start the lives we can’t afford, we get criticized for being lazy, selfish, and immature. We don’t understand the world around us, the world that is nothing like what we were taught to expect. It’s scary, depressing, and confusing. We don’t know what to do so a lot of us do nothing.

Some of us took to the streets. I’m still not exactly sure what my peers are trying to prove with these protests and I’m fuzzy on the details of the revolution they’re trying to instigate. I can make the argument that they’re immature, entitled, self-centered, and misguided. But maybe somewhere deep down in that messy pool of generational warfare there is a glimmer of truth. Maybe the older generation criticizing the movement is partially responsible for creating the monster.

Then again, tell that to our grandparents who survived the Great Depression only to be drafted into WWII.

Like I said, I’m torn.

More Little Known Bands You Should Know

Thousand Foot Krutch

Why this band didn’t make my first post (Bands You Should Know), I have no idea. TFK is my longest running favorite band, and the only one to survive my changing tastes since those fickle teenage years. Heck, they even made my random post on Tim Horton’s.

TFK is also one of the few bands I can confidently introduce to any fan of alternative music and witness an instant connection. They have uncanny ability to combine lyrics, vocals, and instruments into a unique sense of rhythm that’s as catchy as it is hard.

You can’t go wrong with any of their albums. If I had to give one favorite, it would probably be “Phenomenon” based solely on the merits of the title song, “Bounce,” and the iconic “Rawkfist.”

If you can sit still through “Bounce,” “Move,” “Rawkfist,” or “Smack Down” you’re probably dead. Their albums are stuffed with the adrenaline-infused car ride songs that make you want to clean your garage or rake leaves.

Check out “Rawkfist” if you can only sample one song and get a crash course in the rhythmic magic that is TFK.

Ok, now I have to go for a long drive with my TFK mix.

House of Heroes

Panic! at the Disco’s “Vices & Virtues” has officially reached gold status in my mp3-player (mainly because my preschooler has latched onto “Memories” and forces an endless loop of track 4 when he’s in the car). But this blog is about bands you don’t know, not bands you do, which brings us to one of my favorites: House of Heroes.

I have a thing for alternative bands with leads who can actually sing. Not just sing well enough for an alternative band, but actually sing sing. Think Incubus, not Weezer. I like a good Weezer song as much as the next person, but you’re not on board to be blown away by vocals.

House of Heroes can sing. They are also quirky and fun, similar to the style of Panic! at the Disco (hence the correlation). Yet, many of their songs have an edge missing from Panic! which better fits my tastes. Without hesitation I recommend “The End is Not the End.” It’s not their latest, but by far their best, and it’s the album that set-off our love affair. This is a band for those who like clever tongue-in-cheek lyrics, funky beats, and slick harmonies.

If you like Panic! at the Disco, you will like House of Heroes. If you don’t, you will probably still like House of Heroes.

Blindside

While we’re celebrating mp3-player gold status, it’s time to give proper accolades to Blindside and welcome them back after a short hiatus. This Swedish band had a bit of a stumble on their last album and then disappeared for a while which turned out to be a wise move.

Their latest offering, “With Shivering Hearts We Wait,” put them back into old form and reminded me why I never gave up hope.

“Silence” will always be my favorite album, with “About a Burning Fire” a close second. But the newest release stays true to their hard alternative roots as well and comfortably fits into my 80/20 singing to screaming ratio. (Ironically, most of the other bands I’ve mentioned on this blog do not, but I like them anyway).

Their lyrics are in English, so don’t let the Swedish background scare you away. They mix melody and alternative edge about as well as any band I’ve heard. Not every song on the album is a homerun (some are), but they’re all at least solid doubles.

Still, there’s some great music coming out of Sweden, and this is the band that’s hooked me.

SciFi Movie Reviews

For whatever reason I found myself indulging in a SciFi weekend. So without further ado, here’s my take.

Tron: Legacy (2010)

What a pretty movie. I’m sure all the killer robots and egomaniacal minds would cringe to hear me say that, but it was. The world they created was stunning. I enjoyed the unique transportation of each scene and watching the place come to life. I also had no clue what was going on.

I guess that doesn’t matter. There was a Cute Guy and a Cute Girl and a Long-Lost Father and an Evil Villain. You already know the plot from that information alone. The rest I’m sure is Tron lore which probably made total sense to fans of the original film and the game. (Is there even a real game? I’m in my 20’s so I grew up on Mario Bros, not blinking dots.) Stuff happens, things blow up, people race around chasing each other. That’s usually not my thing, but when it was so darn pretty to look at, I forgot that for a while. For a while.

Was it weird watching Garrett Hedlund parade around in the same body pads my parents made me wear to rollerblade as a kid? Surprisingly, no. Am I glad I saw it? Yes. Would I see it again? No.

I Am Number Four (2011)

First off, I’ll say this: I didn’t think the first two-thirds were as bad as everyone said. (The ending: ok, yeah.) As a life-long fan of many escapist CW (formerly WB) cheese, I’d be a hypocrite to decry the familiar formula of 20-something beautiful actors pretending to do teenage things real teenagers don’t actually do.

Having said that, I got the sense early on that I’d seen this movie before. And it was better. Probably because I did. It was a series called Roswell and ran for a few seasons on the WB. I really liked it. I even have the first season on DVD. It made a whole lot more sense than this movie and the characters were much more interesting versions of the same clichés.

Alex Pettyfer is a very attractive young man. A little old for a high school kid, but they all are. Hollywood has established a different conception of what high school “kids” look like so we don’t even notice anymore that the boys need to shave twice a day and the girls have figures like no 15-year-old I ever knew. John (Alex Pettyfer) also clearly isn’t from Sante Fe as he tries to convince his new classmates. The accent that slips out in several heated seats indicates he’s probably not even from this country. (Although England is a lot closer than whatever galaxy he’s supposedly from, so there’s that).

Still, young girls aren’t watching this movie for the superior writing and acting. They’re watching because there’s a totally hot alien in love with a totally hot non-alien and they can’t be together which totally sucks.

Oh, and they’re both outcasts. Right. Like anyone would believe 25-yr-old blond bombshell Dianna Agron is an outcast. I don’t care who dumped whom or who said what about whom “way-in-the-past-so-you-should-just-take-our-word-for-it-that-she’s-an- outcast.” There’s no high school in this country where that girl would be sitting on her own at lunch scribbling in a notebook. That’s where I was in high school and there were no supermodel blonds nearby. (Well, figuratively. We weren’t allowed outside.) 

And sorry, Alex Pettyfer wouldn’t have found himself in loner purgatory either. If you’re super hot and mysterious, coming to the aid of the weird kid only bumps you into the extra-super hot and mysterious category. Hottness elevates the status of your non-hot friends. Not the other way around.

But again, why am I even trying to insert logic into a plot that doesn’t pretend to be anything but ludicrous. Well, maybe it does. Maybe that’s why I struggled with the ending. It took itself very seriously and even tried to convince me I’d want a sequel.

No thanks. I’d rather watch Season 1 of Roswell again.

Message to the Texting Driver on Route 309

 Look, I get it. You’ve been making googly eyes at Tommy all summer at the Subway where you both worked and he finally noticed you. That’s awesome. Really. He’s totally cute and I’m sure if I were 10 years younger, I’d think so too. Plus, he wears those cool graphic tees that make him look hot, but not at all like he’s trying.

And yeah, I know Tabitha has to know what he said in the parking lot at school which could mean, like, 500 different things. Only a 4hr conversation with her is going to sort out the true meaning behind “I like your shirt.” That’s so cryptic. I bet it means he wants to marry you or something.

But here’s the thing, I’m guessing you’re not one of those rare people whose brain has the ability to separate and direct visual stimuli from each eye. I can tell this because you almost killed three people in the last two minutes. If you’re looking at your phone to spread this delightfully confusing message to all your friends, you’re not looking at the road.

You know how you said your new iPhone is magic? You think it’s so awesome that ever since you got it there’s no traffic on the road. You’re queen of the highway. Sorry to ruin the royal fantasy, but we’re still there. We’re just scared to death of you.

You don’t notice us because you’re too busy typing on your phone as we hang back an extra 600 yards or so. We’ve been watching you ride the shoulder every ten seconds for the last four miles, and then swerve back into the other lanes as you overcompensate. Shoulders are for cars in trouble or kids who have to pee. The D.O.T. gods aren’t smiling down on you, they’re terrified.

I get it. I do. The crap in your life is so important that it can’t wait until you get home to call your friends. If you don’t sort out Graphic Tee Tommy’s comment now, it might be too late to connect with your obvious soul-mate. The problem is, the crap in everyone else’s life is important too and we’d really like to get to our own destination to deal with it.

Get. Off. Your. Phone.

September Movie Reviews

Here are last month’s movie reviews. As always, they’re the best and worst I saw in the previous month (September).

Best Movie I Saw in September: Black Swan (2010)

This film was captivating and visually stunning. It was also terrifying. Sure the concept’s been done before: writer/musician/artist/actor goes to the brink of madness and obsession for their craft, but it still felt fresh, edgy and dark. That’s an accomplishment in itself.

I was thinking about why I found it so scary. There were some intentional bumps in the night and deliberate camera angles to generate scares, but it was mostly a psychological terror. That’s even scarier.

It occurred to me that watching a dark side emerge is instinctively horrifying because there’s a small ember of conscience that we’re all vulnerable. Anyone striving to be the best will have to walk a fine line between dedication and obsession, devotion and madness.

Some tread it well, usually those grounded elsewhere. But those are probably the ones who are very good at something, not the best. Can you truly be the best without falling into obsession with your craft? Without delving into insanity to some extent? I don’t know the answer to that. History’s common theme of the big names and madness must mean something.

I think even though most of us strive for accomplishment, we’re not truly dedicated to the pursuit of being the best at one particular goal. And that’s a good thing. We need people to be the best and advance our society, even if slightly crazy. But for our world to function, most of us need to stay well-rounded, and yes, sane. That means striving to be good at a lot, but not insane about anything.

And that’s why Black Swan was so disturbing and so beautiful.

Worst Movie I Saw in the Month of September: You Again (2010)

This actually wasn’t a terrible movie, but made the list because of lost potential to be a good one. The premise is interesting and relatable. Who doesn’t have someone from their high school days they’d rather not see again. Ever. If you don’t have one of those people, you probably are one of those people.

Toss that premise with Kristen Bell and it should work. I love Kristen Bell. If you’ve never watched Veronica Mars, rent Season 1 now. You won’t be disappointed.

The problem I had was the way they squandered the premise. A better movie would be Bell’s character meeting a truly reformed bully from her past. Joanna (Odette Annable – who is unbelievably beautiful by the way), should have been legitimately sweet, regretful, and striving to make amends. In that movie a paranoid Marni (Kristen Bell) keeps reading into each situation the duplicitous nature of each well-intentioned gesture only to learn in the end that people can change.

Instead, we were given several reasons to believe Joanna hadn’t changed and was just as cruel as ever. Automatically the jokes became less funny. It killed the obligatory “change of heart scene” at the conclusion. Nothing even remotely rang true or seemed cathartic in any way.

The other major problem I had was the moms’ past feuds. Even after a few flashbacks, it wasn’t clear to me whether Gail (Jamie Lee Curtis) had reason to hate Romana (Sigourney Weaver) or the other way around until the final flashback that rehashed the whole story. It made the tension between both women awkward because we couldn’t identify the aggressor and the victim. Whose motives do we question? Who do we root for to be vindicated?

This could have been a good movie. It wasn’t.

Writers' Math

Editing + Perfectionism = More Editing

Editing + Frozen Pizza = More Editing

Therefore:

Perfectionism = Frozen Pizza

Letter To My Ignored Fans

I have an apology to make to a large segment of my fan base. Yes, I’m talking about you spammers and spam bots. I’ve been deleting your comments on a mass scale. Ignoring them even. It’s terrible, and I apologize. It occurred to me recently that you may be the only ones visiting my site. We’ve already established my mother doesn’t even check in. (Prove me wrong, Mom. C’mon!) In light of that fact, it seems the least I can do is acknowledge this group on a collective level. So here we go:

To My Previously Ignored Fans: The Spamming Community

Thank you for your diligence in perusing my site. Not only do you take the time to spam the main page, you dedicate yourselves to spamming every post and sub-page as well. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to come up with enough variations of the same sentence to cover so much ground.

I must admit, however, that I’m a bit bothered by the fact that my site is the best one you’ve encountered on the web. I know I should be flattered, but I was kind of under the impression that those people over at MSN and Google really knew what they were doing. What with there multi-million dollar web development budgets, I figured there was no way my $15 annual budget could compete, but apparently I’m doing better than I thought. Thanks for enthusiastically recognizing my minimal funds and effort.

I agree with you that my posts are full of “mcuh imagine to cover all this subject” and I’m so happy you think “it asnwers many of question on this particular topic.” I know I’m brilliant, beautiful, talented, and insightful. I won’t let myself believe I’m the most brilliant, beautiful, talented, and insightful person in the world as you so adamantly attest, but thank you for the encouragement. Really. It makes my day to think some bot chose me (ME!) of all the millions of sites out there.

To those posting in Russian and Arabic, I think that’s fantastic. I love languages and studying other cultures. I’m surprised you didn’t have more to say on my posts about international films. I devour them. Having said that, I have no clue what you wrote. Actually, that’s not true, I do have a clue. I just can’t read it.

And thank you for the countless offers to indulge in your incredible cost-saving opportunity for C^I a Li S. I’ve been meaning to look into that for quite some time, but you know how schedules go. One minute you’re brushing your teeth after breakfast, and the next, you’re brushing your teeth for bed. It’s only then that I realized I missed the chance for that free trial you so generously offered. What a relief to wake up the next morning and find the opportunity within my grasp once again.

I also appreciate the many offers to raise my Google rankings. Marketing is extremely important to me. I have no desire to have my work sell itself based on its quality and appeal to those who read it. Word of mouth is pointless. No, my aim is to shove it in the face of every person who searches on the letter “A” or “S.” Because let’s be honest, it’s more important that people click a link, realize they made a mistake, and leave, than actually read my posts and my books. And of course, when I decide to spend my $7 marketing budget at some point this year, it will definitely be on your solid, upstanding enterprise. I can’t wait to sit down and discuss the business plan.

To those who hate me and are offended by all aspects of the content, I appreciate you taking the time to write as well. I’m sorry you had trouble spelling those tricky four letter words, but I applaud you for thinking outside the box. If I don’t post all those positive comments extolling my many many countless virtues as a person, web designer, and writer, then perhaps I will acknowledge those who despise everything about me and my work, which I’m sure you’ve read and reviewed thoroughly.

So to all of you: “much thanks and happy to you very smrat.” Thank you for keeping my overall stats up and skyrocketing the unique domains served each week. I couldn’t do it without you.

P.S. I don’t want to cause any embarrassment, but I feel like we’re close enough now for me to let you know that I’m female. You can stop calling me “pal,” “sir,” and “dude.” It’s a bit off-putting.