My Own Planet

The most amazing thing I saw on three weeks' worth of The Amazing Race
Yes, I'm finally caught up (woo hoo!) (or, in the words of Jonathan, "WOOOOOO!"), and if I had to name some overarching amazingness for all of the four hours of TAR6 I've watched in the past few days, it would definitely be how much I really love Jonathan. Wait, what? This isn't Opposite Day? Ohhhh.

Yeah. Jonathan is not so much every single racer I've ever hated (Flo, Ian, Mirna, Colin) rolled into one nice little randomly blue-haired package; he's more like every single person I've ever hated in my entire life rolled into said package. Wow.

And then there's Victoria, the chump who married him. Some have suggested that having decided to marry Jonathan is Victoria's only flaw, but I beg to differ. The constant whining and incessant overreacting are also terribly grating. However, I almost think it might be worth having these two in the race simply for the benefit of the hilarious reactions they garner from other teams. I know, I know, I'm totally going to regret saying that very, very soon.

Also amazing: The fact that Kristen's husband has managed to turn up on yet another reality show, this time under the alias of "Aaron." Kristen, you need to keep better tabs on your man!

Love and...Pigeons?
While watching tonight's episode of The Amazing Race, I happened to see a new DeBeers commercial, in which a man proposes to his wife that they get married again in Trafalgar Square in London. It's quite similar to the former DeBeers commercial, where the guy screams how much he loves his wife in the middle of St. Mark's Square in Venice. Now, I have never been to Venice, but I know that St. Mark's Square is famous for having a lot of pigeons. And I have been to Trafalgar Square and can attest that it too has a good number of pigeons. I know these ads are supposed to be about grand declarations of love in very public places, but seriously. What's with all the pigeons? Pigeons are not romantic; they're vermin with wings. If some guy tried something like that with me, I'd be all, "That's nice, honey, but ew, can we get away from the pigeons?" So if you're planning on trying to romance me (which I highly recommend, by the way), please do not let pigeons in any way figure into the equation. Because pigeons and love just don't mix.

Oh, and that, too
I forgot to mention in my last post that I was also thankful for finally getting to see the first Spider-Man movie so I could witness firsthand Peter Parker's prowess with the auto-timer. In addition to auto-timer, it appears he was also aided in taking pictures of himself by some sort of wireless remote, because how else would he have been able to take the pictures at exactly the right moment? Unless that's another one of his super powers.

While the movie did answer some questions, it also raised others. Namely, how does Spider-Man know when someone needs help? I mean, he doesn't have super hearing like Superman, right? So does he just fly around the city during his downtime, looking for people in peril? You'd think that might get in the way of, you know, Peter Parker having a life and stuff. Or is this where the whole "Spidey Sense" concept comes into play?

I'm also thankful that I know people like Doug, who can provide answers to these questions.

And I'm thankful for samples of pumpkin pie at the grocery store. Not that that has anything to do with Doug or Spider-Man, but I'm thankful nonetheless.

Giving thanks
Here are some things I was thankful for this weekend:

-My family, for providing some wonderfully entertaining conversation over Thanksgiving dinner. (The main topic of discussion centered around my grandparents' minister, whom the Baptist and Methodist churches wanted to bar from participating in the Thanksgiving unity service because he had been divorced, allegedly because he was cheating on his wife. My sister deemed this conversation inappropriate for Thanksgiving dinner, but I thought it was awesome.)

-My sister and my cousin, for agreeing to play board games with me when we got tired of listening to everyone talk about the possibly adulterous minister.

-Church suppers (at which I got to meet the possibly adulterous minister).

-My grandparents, for having cable TV so I could catch up on my latest guilty pleasure, Laguna Beach.

-My dad, for taking me on a well-timed ride in my parents' new car so we could get out of having to help put up the outdoor Christmas decorations.

-My grandmother, for gossiping with me about my sister while we decorated the Christmas tree.

-My uncle, for still having his very awesome knock-off Atari, which my sister and I spent much time playing.

-A new bedside table, courtesy of my grandparents.

-Ten whole hours of driving/daydreaming/singing at the top of my lungs time.

Amazing-less
I regret to inform you, dear readers, that for the second week in a row, there will be no Most Amazing Thing I Saw Last Night on The Amazing Race because, once again, I did not actually watch The Amazing Race. I was in fact home when it came on, but, not having had a chance to watch my tape from last week yet, I didn't want to watch the second episode before I saw the first. In addition, I had many more pressing activities to occupy my time, so I just taped the second episode, too. Someday, when I have a chance (maybe this weekend, although I'm starting to fear that it might actually be months from now), I'll sit down and watch the tape and give you a big super-sized edition of The Most Amazing Thing I Saw Last Night on The Amazing Race. Until then, you'll just have to wait. This means you, Heather.

I can't believe I own the same shirt as Paris Hilton




But as you can see, I do. And I love it! Props to Kate for taking me to Urban Outfitters, as well as many other stores with authentically cool (as opposed to mass-market faux-vintage cool) merchandise. I bought more things for myself than is strictly decent this close to Christmas, but I rationalized this by a) remembering that the last time I went on a shopping spree for myself was right after Christmas last year, and b) buying at least one Christmas present for someone other than myself.

We also went out to a very cool bar on Saturday night, then capped off our evening by going through the drive-thru at Krispy Kreme for pumpkin spice doughnuts (heavenly), which we ate while watching Swingers. It was all very college, except for the doughnuts. (I think Steak & Shake would have been required for the full college-esque experience.)

I also got to eat at the restaurant where, as Kate put it, “the Bush twins ran afoul of the law.” And we had a drink at the super-swanky hotel where all the stars stay when they come to Austin. Unfortunately, we did not see any stars, but we did spot a guy that looked vaguely like Jude Law and tried in vain to pretend that it was actually him.

In the midst of all this drinking and eating and shopping, we went to see the much-anticipated Bridget Jones sequel. My verdict? It did have its problems, to be sure, but I didn’t think it was complete crap. (And I have to say, if this movie is Dave’s idea of romantic-comedy crap, it’s obvious he’s never had to sit through an entire Brittany Murphy movie. I wish I were so lucky.) Anyway, I found the sequel to be a bit too obvious and heavy-handed, and it seemed overly zealous in its penchant for referencing the first film. But there were still some funny and endearing moments. Plus, Hugh Grant. And Colin Firth. Mmmm. The fact of the matter is, I could spend two full hours just watching those two “fight” to the tune of ridiculously campy music. Now that's my idea of quality entertainment.

Whew!
For a second there, I thought I was actually going to have to go on reality TV.

I’ve totally been wanting one of those green “Gettin’ Lucky in Kentucky” shirts (for obvious reasons, although I have to admit that even though I did grow up in Kentucky, I’ve never really gotten particularly lucky there, which might be due in large part to the fact that my high-school sweetheart turned out to be gay). Anyway, the problem is, I never seem to see them anywhere but on reality TV.

I first noticed the shirt quite a while ago, when Christina was wearing it on The Real World: Paris. Since then, I had kind of forgotten about it, but lately, I’ve seen them popping up everywhere on reality TV. Norelle was wearing one a few weeks ago on America’s Next Top Model. Then on Wednesday night, I was flipping channels and happened to land on Fox, which was inexplicably showing bonus footage from The Simple Life 2, and I spotted Paris Hilton wearing one. And last night, in the previews for next week’s Apprentice, Ivana was sporting one, too.

I was dismayed, and not just because the shirt I wanted was being worn by people of the caliber of Ivana and Paris Hilton (although, rationally speaking, I guess Norelle [who is fabulous] and Christina [who’s not all that bad, I guess] cancel out the horribleness of the other two). No, I was upset to find that apparently this shirt was being handed out in some sort of reality-show-participant goody bag, and if I wanted the shirt, I would have to actually be on a reality show, too. And I can’t be on a reality show! Do you realize how much time that would take out of my busy schedule of making fun of people who are on reality shows?

Fortunately, after some Internet research, I learned that the shirt is in fact available to people of the non-fame-whore variety at Urban Outfitters (which would have been really helpful to know when I was actually at Urban Outfitters this summer with Chase, not that I would have been able to purchase it then since I was broke and unemployed). So instead of going on a reality show, I just have to go to Atlanta. Which, considering the usual volume of traffic in that city, should be only slightly less painful.

And while we're on the subject...
Word.

Janice-Dickinson-in-Traning’s Quote of the Week
This week, I’m taking the honor of JDQotW away from its namesake (although I was quite amused when she said of Ann, “This picture could be on any iodine bottle”) and bestowing it upon Norelle, who is quickly revealing herself to be somewhat of a young Janice Dickinson in training. In fact, give her about 30 years and a loooot of drugs, and you’ll hardly be able to tell the difference.

So cluelessly hilarious is the young Norelle that she gets not one, but two quotes this week, a feat never achieved by her Botox-laden doppelganger.

“I am so not a good die-er.” –Norelle, freaking out about her big scene with Taye Diggs

“They want me to speak Japanese? I can barely speak English!” –Norelle, freaking out about the Japanese Campbell’s Soup commercial (which, I’m sorry, did seem like an incredibly unfair thing to make them do, even if it did make me laugh because it reminded me of Joey’s “Ichiban: Lipstick for Men” commercial on Friends)

By the way, you know who else is really funny? Taye Diggs. His acting in that completely over-the-top melodramatic scene was too hilarious, especially when Amanda moved after she was supposed to be dead. You know who’s not funny? Amanda. Because she passed up an excellent opportunity to say, “Don’t worry, baby. It’s just rigor mortis.”

Brilliant
This is why I love the E! Online Fashion Police and read it religiously every week. And also why one of my dream jobs is to one day be the person who writes the E! Online Fashion Police blurbs. (My other dream job, incidentally, is to be one of the people who does the NPR/National Geographic Radio Expeditions, which is about as far, journalistically speaking, from the E! Online Fashion Police as you can get. And that's assuming you even consider the E! Online Fashion Police to be journalism in the first place.)

This is why I love the Irish*: One of their curses is, “May the cat eat you, and may the cat be eaten by the devil.” How awesome is that? I do feel kind of sorry for the cat, though. He was really just the middleman.

This is why I love the Tyrant: Because she stepped up with plenty of wonderfully sarcastic comments about last night’s premiere of The Amazing Race when I was unable to. She is quite amazing.

This is why I love Doug: Because he did, too. Also very amazing. (And I agree: “Bolo” is not a name. It’s a very, very unwise fashion decision.)

Actually, no, this is why I love Doug. Because, ha!

*Those of you who had the distinct pleasure of accompanying me to Ireland know that I do not in fact love the Irish, specifically their crappy hostels and their annoying bus tour guides. However, this was such an incredibly awesome insult that it has redeemed them somewhat in my mind. But I do hope that that bus tour guide gets eaten by a cat and that the cat then gets eaten by the devil.

Crisis narrowly averted (almost)
Props to Heather (who e-mailed me) and Doug (who wrote about it on his blog) for reminding me about tonight’s premiere of The Amazing Race 6, which had managed to completely slip my mind. However, it would have been slightly better had I remembered it last week, before I scheduled an Ed2010 event for tonight. Oh, well. Thank God for VCRs.

This does mean, however, that the triumphant return of The Most Amazing Thing I Saw Last Night on The Amazing Race will be delayed until I can watch my tape of the episode. Which, considering that I’m spending this weekend in Austin with Kate and next weekend at my grandmother’s for Thanksgiving, could be quite a while. In fact, by the time I get a chance to watch the tape, it will be more like The Most Amazing Thing I Saw on That One Episode of The Amazing Race That the Rest of You Watched, Like, Three Weeks Ago. In light of this fact, I’m bringing you a special, once-in-a-lifetime offer: If any of my faithful readers/fellow Amazing Race watchers would like to guest write this week’s edition of The Most Amazing Thing I Saw Last Night on The Amazing Race, please let me know.

Have I become so busy/apathetic/lazy that I’m actually trying to get other people to write my blog for me? It would appear so.

Some days
You just want to curl up into a ball and listen to Jeff Buckley and cry.

Today is one of those days.

Art Opening of Extreme Awkwardness
So last night I went with a couple of my friends to an opening at my favorite art gallery (which has moved and is now conveniently located a short distance from my apartment, yay!). The same people tend to come to these events every time, so I was unsurprised to run into many people I know at the opening. However, of all people, I did not expect to run into this guy. Remember him? The "as friends" guy? (Heretofore known as the AFG, for the purposes of simplicity and not having to use quotation marks.) He was obviously there on assignment for work, which doesn't really make his presence any less surprising, since why would a sports photographer be shooting an art gallery event? But anyway. He was there.

I was standing around talking to Terri, Danielle and Danielle's boss (who's also my freelance boss) when I first saw him walk by. I whispered this to Danielle, who obviously wanted to know which guy I was talking about. He had already moved on to another room of the gallery, so I told her he was the one walking around with a camera. She had been there awhile and had noticed him and thought he was hot (although we later deduced that she was talking about a different guy who was hotter than the guy I was talking about, but when we figured that out, she still allowed that the AFG was very cute), so she responded with an approving, "Snap!" This caught the attention of her boss, who had momentarily turned away to talk to someone else, and she immediately demanded to know who the "Snap!" was in reference to, turning around and scanning the gallery, asking, "Who is he? Which one?" Oh. My God. Thankfully, the AFG was still in another room and was not there to witness this display, and eventually I was able to put her off without having to repeat the details of the whole non-saga saga.

I spent the rest of the evening artfully avoiding the AFG, as I had used up my quota of Doing Brave Things in Regard to the Opposite Sex when I asked him out and therefore couldn't bring myself to go up and talk to him after not having heard from him at all following our non-date date. The avoiding was a bit tricky, because I was also trying to avoid the girl that I accidentally called Anna Nicole Smith at a Halloween party two years ago, which was one of the most embarrassing foot-in-mouth moments of my life, and that's saying a lot for someone who has quite a few of those moments. However, because we live in the same neighborhood and have some of the same friends, I tend to run into this girl a lot, so I've become pretty adept at avoiding her. Still, every time I run into her, my embarrassment at having called her Anna Nicole Smith comes bubbling back to the surface. So, combined with trying to avoid the AFG, it made for a very awkward evening. Ah well, at least I got to catch up with some people I have not yet humiliated myself in front of. And I got a free beer!

Oh, Seth. Poor, gay Seth.
Either Chris’s power of suggestion is pretty potent and I’m now unnaturally attuned to any signs of homosexuality on The O.C., or the writers really are trying to set Seth up for some sort of sexual revelation this season. Either way, you have to admit that this little exchange brought another black mark into the Seth Cohen Heterosexuality Column:

Seth (on Summer’s new beau): “I can’t believe she’s dating that guy!”
Ryan: “Five minutes ago, you wanted to date that guy.”

I must say, I was a bit surprised when Zach was revealed to be Summer’s new boyfriend, mostly because I expected him to end up as Seth’s new boyfriend. Of course, I’m still not ruling out that possibility. Because Summer walking in on Zach and Seth in the middle of a passionate embrace? Would be sooo O.C.

Speaking of Zach, I was inordinately pleased (as I suspect all SBTB fans were) when Seth referred to him as “the Zach [sic] Attack.” Never mind the fact that Seth Cohen is arguably too young to have ever even watched Saved by the Bell in its initial run.

Finally, because I can’t think of anything to talk about other than The O.C., last week we were treated to Mischa Barton’s interpretation of “angry.” This week, we got “sad.” I ask you, when will these attempts at “acting” ever end? Sadly, I suspect the answer is “never.”

Janice Dickinson’s Quote of the Week

“Try posing on top of a crocodile!” –Janice, to the girls who were complaining about having to pose with a tarantula

Sadly, this comment was not immediately followed by a cut to a picture of Janice riding some poor crocodile, so we can’t say for sure whether she really has posed on a crocodile, or if, in her drug-induced state, what she thought was a crocodile was actually, say, a sofa.

Did anyone else think it was totally rude of Ann to be making fun of Eva and calling her a baby because she has a fear of spiders? I mean, back in the second episode when Ann was all freaking out and crying on the plane, did anyone make fun of her and call her a baby because she has a fear of flying? OK, actually, I think someone might have, but whatever. The point is, we all have our paralyzing fears, and sometimes we can’t explain them and they seem stupid to people on the outside, but that doesn’t make them any less real. For example, I have a fear of being trapped in a car underwater. Now, I can’t imagine any circumstances in which I would be required to model while trapped in a car underwater (nor, for that matter, any circumstance in which I would actually enter a modeling competition), but if such a circumstance should arise, you can bet I’d probably be freaking out about it. And I wouldn’t appreciate anyone making fun of me because of it.

Also, just in case you care, I actually interviewed one of the PR guys who came over the loft to coach the girls on interviewing techniques (the younger one) for a story for J105. As I recall, he responded to half of the questions I asked with a terse, “No comment,” so I was unsurprised that he instructed the girls to be as vague as humanly possible when talking to journalists.

What a difference a letter makes
One of the most popular pieces of campaign paraphernalia among Bush supporters in Birmingham has been the black “W The President” bumper sticker. For a while (until this morning, as a matter of fact, when I found them on the Internet), I thought this was a Birmingham-specific trend, as both my boss (who lives in North Carolina) and my parents (who live in Kentucky) told me they had never seen this sticker anywhere other than Birmingham.

I’ve hated this sticker ever since I first spotted it on a luxury SUV in my neighborhood sometime this summer. My problem with the sticker is twofold. First, as a piece of campaign paraphernalia, I find it pretentious and obnoxious. It’s as if it’s saying, “We don’t even need to bother campaigning, because Bush is and will always be the president.” Every time I saw one of these stickers on a parked car, I was tempted to get one of those little white-out pens and write on the bottom, “Not for long!” In retrospect, I’m kind of glad I didn’t do that. It would have taken a lot of white-out.

My second problem with this sticker is that I generally abhor all references to Bush simply by his middle initial. (While we’re on the subject, I also hate all references to Bush Senior as “Bush 41.”) During the 2000 campaign, I gradually got used to “Dubya” (not that I ever really liked it), but I just can’t abide by “W.”

Last night I was out walking around my neighborhood when I spotted a car parked in front of my building, sporting one of these heinous stickers. I got ready to fly into my usual fit of rage when I noticed there was something different about this particular sticker. I did a double take and noticed that the letter was different—instead of a “W,” it was an “F.”

Now that’s awesome.

Quote happy
I promise, my blog is not about to devolve into a list of my favorite quotes from (or about) TV shows. But there were so many good ones from last night’s OC premiere party (such as when Danielle randomly screamed at the television, “Eat a burger, Mischa!”) that I just can’t resist. After much consideration, I’ve decided that my favorite quote of the night was the following musing on the unusually close relationship between Ryan and Seth:

Danielle: “But they’re like brothers.”
Chris: “Yeah, who fuck.”

Obviously, Chris is convinced that Ryan and Seth are secretly gay lovers, claiming that two straight boys would never be as affectionate as they are with each other. As Chris himself is gay, you’ve got to give some credit to his gaydar. Plus, there was that romantic scene where Seth went running after Ryan, only to find that Ryan had come running after him. And when you stop to think about it, why would Seth pick up and abandon his family and the girl he loves just because Ryan was moving away? I mean, I could see him running away in a fit of anger, but to then stay gone for the entire summer? And to choose to run away to Portland to live with Luke and his Big Gay Dad? All in all, you have to admit that things aren’t stacking up too well in the Seth Cohen Heterosexuality Column. However, that didn’t stop all the girls at the party from repeatedly professing their love for him. The gay men, however, seemed to prefer Luke. Well, Chris did, at least. His boyfriend, Lee, has much better taste in men and sided with the rest of us in the Seth Cohen camp. Pretty much no one liked Ryan. Poor Ryan.

Janice Dickinson (and Nigel Barker)’s Quote of the Week
Actually, if I’m being fair, all the credit for this week’s quote should go to Nigel. But Janice did provide the set-up, and she is the figurehead for Quote of the Week, so I’m giving her partial credit anyway.

Janice: “Eva is still short.”
Nigel: “Perhaps she’ll grow by next week.”

The beauty of this line was all in the delivery. He didn’t say it in a sarcastic, smart-alecky way, but rather in a very hopeful manner, as if Eva were his little sea monkey or chia pet or something. “Well, she hasn’t grown at all this week, but maybe next week!”

I was also highly amused by the whole “House of Je Ne Sais Quoi” bit, during which Nigel, Tyra, Nolé and Mark “Superfluous Vowel” Bouwer raided Janice’s stash of pills and then pretended to be eccentric French fashion designers. Oh, the hilarity!

So, Doug—cheese or pepperoni?
Well, it looks like we’re in for another four years of living in “Amurrica.” I realized last night when I got home that I had been wearing my British-flag socks all day. Four years ago, I said that if Bush were elected president, I would move back to England. Perhaps I should take the British-flag-sock-wearing as a sign and actually follow through on my promise this time around. Then again, since Blair is now best buddies with Captain Amurrica, I doubt I’d even notice the difference. (Politically speaking, that is. The accents would probably clue me in otherwise.)

Last night was agony indeed, but it was all worth it for the magnificent return of the famous Tim Russert white board. I was just sad Gusto wasn’t around to take a drink with me every time he whipped it out.

Meanwhile, what was up with NBC repurposing Rockefeller Center as “Democracy Plaza”? Whatever, NBC. Also, you’d think after all the problems and embarrassments of 2000 that came from calling states too early and then having to switch them around, NBC would want to be a bit more subtle than creating some huge map with heavy moving pieces in the middle of an ice rink. But I guess not.

Ha!
Moving away from the election, but staying in the vein of network silliness, I had to call someone at CBS a little while ago, and when I was put on hold, the first thing I heard was a commercial for ABC's Live With Regis and Kelly, which was promoting guests from popular shows on NBC (Matt LeBlanc) and Fox (Mischa Barton). This struck me as rather amusing.

“Hold me down/I am floating away/Into the overcast skies over my hometown/On election day”
If you’re registered to vote, get out there and do it by the end of the day. (If you’re not registered, shame on you!) If it helps, think of voting less as a civic obligation and more as a chance to participate in a really popular reality show where you'll find out later that night which contestant will be eliminated. This will be The Most Dramatic! Presidential Election! Ever!

Even if you don’t care who the heck our president (or your 10th disctrict circuit court judge or your city comptroller) is, go anyway. You never know—you might find something amusing on the ballot, as I did. Apparently Alabama is proposing an amendment to the state constitution that would allow the constitution to provide for the promotion of shrimp and seafood. WTF? After careful consideration, I decided to vote against this amendment. I mean, I like shrimp and seafood as much as the next person, but I don’t really think our state constitution is the place to be promoting it.

If nothing else, go vote just so you can get the free sticker. Yaaay, free stickers!

A last-ditch effort
Today, on the eve of the presidential election, I have decided to enter in an eleventh-hour plea to all you undecided (or decided, but potentially coercible) registered voters who might be reading. So here goes: Please, for the love of God, don’t vote for Bush.

I know that over the course of the past few months, you’ve heard many, many reasons why you shouldn’t vote for Bush. He bungled the war in Iraq, he frittered away our budget surplus, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. None of that really matters. Why? Because there is one deep, abiding, fundamental reason why Bush should not be our president, and so far, nobody’s bothered to mention it. (Come to think of it, no one mentioned it back in 2000, either, and if they had, perhaps we wouldn’t be in the pickle we’re in today.) So now the time has come for me to impart the truth to you, dear readers, before it is too late.

That one reason is this: Bush doesn’t freaking know how to pronounce the name of our country.

For four years I’ve sat by, silently wincing every time he refers to us as “Amurrica.” But I’m sorry; I just can’t take it anymore. I’m of the firm belief that if you can’t pronounce the name of a country, you really shouldn’t be running it. It would be like if Tony Blair went around referring to England as “Uhngland.” Perhaps if Bush realized his shortcoming and referred to us as the United States (or, better yet, the impossible-to-mangle “U.S.”), I could overlook this problem. But no—every speech he gives, it’s “Amurrica” this, and “Amurrica” that. People wonder why other world leaders have no respect for our president. Could it possibly be because he doesn’t know how to pronounce the name of his own country?

Say what you want about John Kerry—he’s a flip-flopper, a tax-hiker, whatever—but the fact is, he knows how to say “America” properly. That’s all I’m saying.