I loathe (yet still cannot stop watching) reality television. Case-in-point, the train-wreck of human drama that is the show Rock of Love with Bret Michaels. I am firmly convinced that this show represents the largest gathering of trashy, herpes-infested, swooning over a middle-aged, has-been rockstar women this side of New Jersey. Honestly, there are enough strippers in the house to qualify for a permit for "adult-oriented" entertainment. Strangely, I find myself wondering what these women see in Bret Michaels. Stranger still, I don't stop to consider what Bret Michaels could possibly see in these women. Do people actually go on reality television hoping to fall in love? No, that cannot be it. I think Bret was looking for a nice piece of stripper tail.
While I find this show repellent in all possible ways, to get at the real crux of the issue, you must examine the programming decisions made on a regular basis by VH1. In all honestly, Rock of Love is low on the list of problems. All conversations on this topic must begin and end with Flavor of Love and its deformed, bastard-child of a spin off, I Love New York. What crazy person thinks that Flavor Flav is attractive? Have you seen the clock? That is to make no mention of his tiny, anemic body, big head, and jacked-up face... And then there is New York, the woman he rejected (twice) but VH1 still felt the need to punish the rest of us with for 2 seasons. Wow, that is one classy lady. She is all charm, if by charm you mean silicone, profanity, bad grammar, and horrible clothes. Her continued existence both on this planet and on the television makes me question the very existence of a supreme being.
So, having reviewed the programming available on VH1, I propose a total boycott of these shows until VH1 cleans up its act. How about more shows with witty commentary like Best Week Ever or I love the 70s,80s,90s. And where did Behind the Music go? I need a consistent source of obscure information about today's music giants. For instance, how will I ever truly understand the societal ramifications of the Milli Vanilli scandal or uncover the truth behind the affair between Alanis Morrisette and Dave Coulier (Uncle Joey on Full House) that led to the song "You Oughta Know"? Seriously, VH1's recent decision-making has left me seriously handicapped for my next game of Trivial Pursuit. Self-serving bastards.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Friday, January 4, 2008
So, I was sitting there in nothing but my underwear...(Erica)
Many stories I tell seem to start with the phrase "So, I was sitting there in nothing but my underwear..." This may make some people uncomfortable, but I don't really care.
The fanny pack is certainly a big turnoff to me. I really prefer to mock people for things other than what they are wearing. Don't get me wrong, I definitely enjoy picking apart the hideousness of a theme sweater or t-shirt with a screen printed "pussy" (kitty cat, if you will) on it. However, it's the self-righteous intellectual types with no sense of humor that give me the giggles.
Do you know one of those people that injects 75 cent words into a sentence when they don't have a clue what they mean? Or, maybe they know the meaning but are just using big words to sound more intelligent? Or, the guy that practically has his SAT or MCAT scores tattooed on his forehead? These are the ones that really get under my skin and give me plenty of ideas for banter.
First off, do you really think that your SAT scores are something that is going to make me want to date you? I actually find bragging about intellect more annoying than the catcalls that we get while walking on our noon-time walks. I am a semi-intelligent person. I can tell if you are actually smart or if you are just telling me that you are smart. And, honestly, if you can't get my jokes, then your intelligence does not rank in the right department. So, "thank you, drive through."
Por ejemplo, Caroline and I get hours of enjoyment from mis-pronouncing different words. We were using the word facade profusely and we were making the "c" a hard "c" rather than a soft one. It's one of the many words that we mispronounce for our own enjoyment. However, we were corrected by someone we both know. HE DIDN'T GET THE JOKE! I'm not so dumb that I don't know how to pronounce the word facade. I am blonde but I'm not stupid! That's the kind of thing that drives me crazy. Do you really go around correcting people all the time? Seriously, get your nose out of the New York Times for just a few seconds and watch a sitcom here and there. Learn SOMETHING about popular culture! No one enjoys talking about politics all the time. And, you're a man, have ESPN on in the background...you might actually learn something.
Life is not that serious and should not be taken as such.
The fanny pack is certainly a big turnoff to me. I really prefer to mock people for things other than what they are wearing. Don't get me wrong, I definitely enjoy picking apart the hideousness of a theme sweater or t-shirt with a screen printed "pussy" (kitty cat, if you will) on it. However, it's the self-righteous intellectual types with no sense of humor that give me the giggles.
Do you know one of those people that injects 75 cent words into a sentence when they don't have a clue what they mean? Or, maybe they know the meaning but are just using big words to sound more intelligent? Or, the guy that practically has his SAT or MCAT scores tattooed on his forehead? These are the ones that really get under my skin and give me plenty of ideas for banter.
First off, do you really think that your SAT scores are something that is going to make me want to date you? I actually find bragging about intellect more annoying than the catcalls that we get while walking on our noon-time walks. I am a semi-intelligent person. I can tell if you are actually smart or if you are just telling me that you are smart. And, honestly, if you can't get my jokes, then your intelligence does not rank in the right department. So, "thank you, drive through."
Por ejemplo, Caroline and I get hours of enjoyment from mis-pronouncing different words. We were using the word facade profusely and we were making the "c" a hard "c" rather than a soft one. It's one of the many words that we mispronounce for our own enjoyment. However, we were corrected by someone we both know. HE DIDN'T GET THE JOKE! I'm not so dumb that I don't know how to pronounce the word facade. I am blonde but I'm not stupid! That's the kind of thing that drives me crazy. Do you really go around correcting people all the time? Seriously, get your nose out of the New York Times for just a few seconds and watch a sitcom here and there. Learn SOMETHING about popular culture! No one enjoys talking about politics all the time. And, you're a man, have ESPN on in the background...you might actually learn something.
Life is not that serious and should not be taken as such.
On a scale from one to ten, ten being the dumbest a person can look, you are definitely nineteen...(Caroline)
So as to inaugurate this fun, new, work-avoiding hobby, I think it is appropriate to discuss one of our (Erica and myself) favorite pastimes, mocking people. We take particular pleasure in those people who seem to be totally oblivious to the fact that it looks like they don't own a mirror. Though this may seem petty and mean-spirited, I think it is important to clarify that I am not simply talking about people whose clothes are slightly outdated or whose hair is windblown. Let's be clear, neither Erica nor myself have recently appeared on the cover of any magazines (although I am quite confident that a prominent picture in the National Enquirer is somewhere in our immediate future). No, I am talking about those unfortunate freak shows who seem to be caught in a tapered-pants wearing, acid-washed loving, blast from the past, absolute crapfest of attire.
Let me illustrate my point with an example. I have an acquaintance (hereafter referred to as Lynn) who loves to wear acid-washed jeans. Not those skinny jeans that 7-for-all Mankind made this year. No, she wears the ones with tapered legs and zippers on the bottom. To complete the look, she adds a t-shirt depicting some endangered animal in a mist of glitter and strange colors. It's usually some sort of leopard. And finally, instead of accessorizing with a Hermes Birkin bag or a nice Gucci clutch, she adds the dreaded fanny-pack. The fanny-pack, I firmly believe will rank as one of man's cruelest and most diabolical inventions, somewhere between the atomic bomb and the drive-through restaurant.
Now my real issue with Lynn is that she has no idea why people, more specifically men, are not instantly drawn to her like a moth to a flame. It truly is a mystery. I cannot understand why every man is not chasing after a woman who looks like an extra from St. Elmo's Fire with a pouch of vinyl strapped across her midsection like a new-age chastity belt. Let's be clear- if you are rocking a fanny pack, you will never get laid.
Honestly, people like this are a complete enigma to me. Seriously, just turn on the TV, pick up a magazine, walk by a store. DO SOMETHING! I guess what really gets me is that there is no barrier to Lynn taking a huge fashion risk, and oh I don't know, joining the rest of us in the new millennium. What I mean is that current, fashionable clothing is available at all price-points... from Target to Neiman Marcus. More importantly, truly classic pieces can last for years. So pull out those straight leg pants and your vintage trench coat. Go forth and be visually appealing to someone other than Dee Snider circa 1983!
Let me illustrate my point with an example. I have an acquaintance (hereafter referred to as Lynn) who loves to wear acid-washed jeans. Not those skinny jeans that 7-for-all Mankind made this year. No, she wears the ones with tapered legs and zippers on the bottom. To complete the look, she adds a t-shirt depicting some endangered animal in a mist of glitter and strange colors. It's usually some sort of leopard. And finally, instead of accessorizing with a Hermes Birkin bag or a nice Gucci clutch, she adds the dreaded fanny-pack. The fanny-pack, I firmly believe will rank as one of man's cruelest and most diabolical inventions, somewhere between the atomic bomb and the drive-through restaurant.
Now my real issue with Lynn is that she has no idea why people, more specifically men, are not instantly drawn to her like a moth to a flame. It truly is a mystery. I cannot understand why every man is not chasing after a woman who looks like an extra from St. Elmo's Fire with a pouch of vinyl strapped across her midsection like a new-age chastity belt. Let's be clear- if you are rocking a fanny pack, you will never get laid.
Honestly, people like this are a complete enigma to me. Seriously, just turn on the TV, pick up a magazine, walk by a store. DO SOMETHING! I guess what really gets me is that there is no barrier to Lynn taking a huge fashion risk, and oh I don't know, joining the rest of us in the new millennium. What I mean is that current, fashionable clothing is available at all price-points... from Target to Neiman Marcus. More importantly, truly classic pieces can last for years. So pull out those straight leg pants and your vintage trench coat. Go forth and be visually appealing to someone other than Dee Snider circa 1983!
Rock, Paper, Scissors (Erica)
Just to give you an idea of what you are dealing with here, we tried to use rock, paper, scissors as a way to determine who would write the first blog on our new blogspot site and we went through at least 6 attempts before we each chose something different. AND I WON!
So, here you have Caroline (26) and Erica (30) (hence the name Car-ica), two women living in NC and desperate to find a way to make a living doing something fun and exciting. We currently work together doing public health research at a major university. However, this is not an outlet for our quick-witted, sarcastic banter. Therefore, we had to find another outlet. And, the blog entitled "The Urinal Olympics" was born.
I thought I would take this opportunity to explain why we chose the name we did. Caroline and I have an uncanny ability to associate words from one conversation to the next until we have no idea how we got where we are. One afternoon, while sitting in the office, bored, we somehow conversationally traveled from small talk to dismounts off of the urinal in the mens room down the hall. We discussed different ways to remove oneself (in dismount fashion) from a urinal and then laughed about it until we cried. Then, we looked at each other and said, "what were we talking about previously that got us to this point?" And, neither of us had the answer.
This is our new way to let the world know about all the sick and twisted things that we think about (and lots of other people probably do, too). However, we are the ones that say it out loud (or at least on the world wide web). By posting these sick thoughts, we will hopefully no longer get disapproving looks from our coworkers as we begin to travel down a road that we shouldn't travel at work, because we have a new outlet for our sick behavior.
Guaranteed we will also touch on topics such as college and professional football, relationships (or lack there of), out of control celebrities, deciding what to be when we grow up, and so on, and so forth.
So, here you have Caroline (26) and Erica (30) (hence the name Car-ica), two women living in NC and desperate to find a way to make a living doing something fun and exciting. We currently work together doing public health research at a major university. However, this is not an outlet for our quick-witted, sarcastic banter. Therefore, we had to find another outlet. And, the blog entitled "The Urinal Olympics" was born.
I thought I would take this opportunity to explain why we chose the name we did. Caroline and I have an uncanny ability to associate words from one conversation to the next until we have no idea how we got where we are. One afternoon, while sitting in the office, bored, we somehow conversationally traveled from small talk to dismounts off of the urinal in the mens room down the hall. We discussed different ways to remove oneself (in dismount fashion) from a urinal and then laughed about it until we cried. Then, we looked at each other and said, "what were we talking about previously that got us to this point?" And, neither of us had the answer.
This is our new way to let the world know about all the sick and twisted things that we think about (and lots of other people probably do, too). However, we are the ones that say it out loud (or at least on the world wide web). By posting these sick thoughts, we will hopefully no longer get disapproving looks from our coworkers as we begin to travel down a road that we shouldn't travel at work, because we have a new outlet for our sick behavior.
Guaranteed we will also touch on topics such as college and professional football, relationships (or lack there of), out of control celebrities, deciding what to be when we grow up, and so on, and so forth.
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