...but going to see Def Leppard in concert most definitely takes some of the sting out of it!!

WOOHOO! A few friends and I are going to the Def Leppard/Journey concert in June at the Tweeter Center in Camden. You cannot possibly imagine how much this excites me. Going to see DL live represents the fulfillment of a lifelong dream for me. I can barely sit still, I am that amped!!

When I was a kid, my parents were pretty much like the Gestapo. Every television program, movie, and album I wanted was heavily scrutinzed before my parents decided whether or not I could watch it or listen to it. For example, I was not allowed to watch MTV (then again, the MTV of my youth was like Mr. Fucking Rogers' Neighborhood compared to the soft porn they broadcast these days!). I was not allowed to own any cassette tapes with the parental warning labels on them. I was not allowed to talk on the phone on school nights after 7 p.m.

Yeah, it sucked. And yeah, they had hell to pay for it in later years, when I rebelled by sneaking my boyfriends into my bedroom in the middle of the night and spending almost two straight years stoned off my ass. Let me tell ya, I could roll the TIGHTEST joint ever! Ahem. But those are stories for another post...

Anyhoo. In 1987, my cousin Tracie, who is eight years my senior and was, in my eyes, the arbiter of all things cool, turned me on to Def Leppard. I was about 10 years old. This was around the time when Hysteria was first released. For me, it was love at first listen. Not only did I immediately adore their music, but I also developed an extreme prepubescent crush on Rick Allen, the one-armed drummer.

All of my weekly allowance was funneled to the purchase of magazines like Metal Edge and Hit Parader, as I began to accumulate photos of the band. At one point, I had over four hundred posters and pictures of Def Leppard taped to the walls of my bedroom. My parents were suspicious, but they never made me take down those posters. Tracie, knowing how strict my parents were, made me a copy of Hysteria on a blank, unmarked cassette tape. I listened to it nearly every waking minute of each day, until it eventually was eaten by my Walkman.

I decided to take the chance and buy my own copy of Hysteria at Wall to Wall Sound and Video (remember that store?). Shortly thereafter, my parents were on to me. They read the playlist and saw song titles like "Women," "Pour Some Sugar on Me," and "Armageddon It" (my mother: "Is this that SATANIC music?!?") and immediately took the tape away from me. I was crushed. I begged and pleaded with them to give me back the tape, to no avail. They wouldn't even reimburse me the damn allowance money that I spent to buy it. I was crushed...but only briefly.

You see, what they DIDN'T realize was that I knew that they'd hidden the tape in one of the drawers of my father's dresser. So as soon as my parents weren't around, I snatched the tape and dubbed another copy of it for myself. Then I replaced the original back in my dad's dresser, and they were never the wiser.

I was a sneaky, underhanded, conniving child. Indeed.

So going to see Def Leppard in concert now is guaranteed to bring back all of those fond memories for me.

Plus, they're playing with Journey. Freaking Journey! DON'T STOP...BELIEVIN'!

(I know, Steve Perry hasn't been with Journey in years, so I'm kinda bummed out about that, but still. There is NO way I would miss this show.)

My real concern is, should I break out the acidwashed denim and curl my bangs sky-high for this show?

Labels: childhood, concerts, decisions, Def Leppard, family, friends, memories, music

OK, I decided after my last post that I needed to lighten the mood around here. So when I got this joke from a coworker, I knew I'd have to post it here:

Labels: funny stuff

Last night I brought dinner over to my grandmother’s apartment and hung out with her for an hour or so. I’ve decided that I need to spend more time with her, no matter how much it bothers me. Because I’m not doing it for me, I’m doing it for her.

She has lived alone since my grandfather died from cancer in 1995. She never made any friendships outside of her relatives, because she believed that her husband and her family were her first and most important priorities. Unfortunately, all the family members of her generation have died. She is the only one left.

She only held a job outside her home briefly, before she married my grandfather. Other than sewing and housekeeping, she never had any hobbies or interests. My parents and I have tried to convince her to go to a local senior center, with the hopes that she would make some friends and benefit from the social interaction, but she refuses, saying, “But I don’t KNOW anyone there! It would be a bunch of strangers and me.” Maddening. So instead, she literally sits in an armchair in front of her television from sunrise to sunset, watching the Game Show Network and reruns of Hawaii Five-O and Magnum, PI. Her legs have gotten weak from disuse, so she won’t even walk the half-block from her apartment to the Rite Aid drugstore at the corner of her street to buy a newspaper. She has never driven a car, so she is dependent on my parents and, less often, my self-centered aunt who lives in south Jersey to take her to the supermarket and to doctors’ appointments. It’s a sad existence.

In the past couple of years, she has begun a downhill slide. It’s really hard for me to watch. Her doctor believes that she has had a few mini-strokes. Nothing major, but enough to affect some of her motor skills and some of the executive function of her brain. She has been diagnosed with early Alzheimers. Last year,she mailed us two Christmas cards, both with Brian’s name spelled “Byron.” She’s starting to forget to balance her checkbook properly, so my father has taken over her bill paying. She also hasn’t been taking all of her (many) prescriptions on a regular basis. Worst of all, she has been having frequent episodes of loss of control of her bowels and bladder, which I know must be a terrible and humiliating experience for her.

When I was a kid, both my parents worked, and she was my primary caretaker before I was old enough for school. I have so many memories of her; she was strong and vital and animated. Now she’s just a shadow of her former self. It breaks my heart.

Last night, I brought her veal Parmigiana and spaghetti from the Italian place up the street from her. As I sat next to her, eating my lobster ravioli, I watched her struggle to cut the veal into edible pieces. At one point, I interjected, “Can I help you with that, Grandma?”

She ignored me and kept doggedly sawing away at the veal cutlet.

A few more minutes passed, and she still hadn’t made any progress, so I again said, “Let me get that for you.”

Resigned, she slowly released her weak grip on her knife and fork, and I stood over her, cutting up the veal into bite-sized pieces. It was then that I was struck by our role reversal, and my heart lurched. Was it really so long ago that she cut my meat for me? How had things gotten to this point?

I quickly finished cutting her veal and excused myself to the bathroom, where I quietly cried.

Labels: childhood, family, memories

Elliott, Elliott, Elliott. If he were to cut an album, I would most definitely buy it. I just adore his voice. I hope he wins, but I doubt he will. Not only do I love his voice, but he seems so down to earth and cute. Squee!

Bucky: time to go home. I actually made Brian spew beer out of his nose last night during Bucky's song, when I remarked, "He looks just like Rusty Griswold!"

Kelly: I still stand by my original comment on TKW's blog that the people who vote for Kelly Pickler probably also voted for Dubya. Yuck.

Chris: no doubt you can sing, dude, but you must stop Creed-ifying everything.

Mandisa: she has the prettiest face. She can also sing, but I don't see her going to the top 4.

Paris: another one who definitely has talent, but with her family connections, does she really need to be on this show? Couldn't she just get a recording contract another way?

Ace: slurp. That is all.

Taylor: the dark horse of this season. A lot of people I talk to have love for this guy. I think you either love him or hate him. He's got an interesting voice, and is a good performer, but needs to tone down the tics.

Lisa: talented, but just too young for this competition.

Who I am missing? Anyone I overlooked is too forgettable to have gotten this far.

Labels: American Idol, deep thoughts, music, TV

Man, my weekends have been so busy lately!

First of all, we rented Capote this weekend. Despite my love for Joaquin, I have to say that Philip Seymour Hoffman did deserve to win that Oscar. His performance was outstanding. The movie itself was slow, though. My mind began to wander about halfway through it.

We also rented Mr. and Mrs. Smith and watched it last night. It was entertaining, but definitely required too much suspension of disbelief. I still believe I am the only woman in North America who just doesn't find Brad Pitt attractive. At all. Yes, you can pick your jaws up off the floor now. And The Huz and I agreed that Angelina's boobs are totally fake.

We did some more work on the house this weekend. Since we're getting new carpeting throughout the second floor of the house next week, we decided to do as much painting as possible beforehand. Last weekend, we painted both guest bedrooms. On Saturday, we painted the hallway and the stairwell, which was a challenge. Fortunately, we have a really cool store nearby called Rental World, and we rented a 16-foot painter's plank so that we could paint the high walls above the stairs. The best part was that it only cost $7.50 to rent for the day! Our friend Joe came over and the three of us knocked out two coats of paint in about four hours.

I also picked up a Decora timer switch for our outdoor lamppost and installed it all by myself. This thing is SO cool...it can be set to go on and off according to the sunset and sunrise, or it can be programmed either by individual days, weeknights, and weekends. It only cost $20 at Home Depot and took me about 20 minutes to install. So easy! And now I don't have to worry about turning the outside light on and off. It will always be on as soon as it gets dark outside. Love it!!

(Sad what gets me excited these days, isn't it?!?)

Yesterday I went shopping with my mom for the first time in over a month. Brian and I have been so busy with house projects that I haven't had the chance to get out with her. We went to Kohl's, Homegoods (my favorite!), Bed Bath and Beyond, and had lunch at Panera. It was a nice day. I always have fun with my mom.

On the way home, I stopped at a store called The Dump. It's a warehouse that sells off-price and overstocked furniture, area rugs, and mattresses. I've been there several times in the past and never found anything I really wanted or needed. They have a lot of unusual stuff; think of that scene in The Birdcage where Robin Williams and Nathan Lane redecorate their condo before the senator comes to visit. Yeah...the Dump sells a lot of very austere and monastery-like furniture. But yesterday I picked up two burgundy Italian leather cube ottomans for $88 a piece, which I thought was a pretty good deal. I'm going to use them as a coffee table base for the basement seating area. They are the perfect size and height for it, and I've seen it done before on a few decorating shows. Now I just have to get a couple of wooden trays to put on top of the ottomans to create a "tabletop." I found unfinished square wooden trays online at Jo-Ann Fabrics for $16. I think I'll buy them and stain them dark cherry. The sofa and chair we ordered are being delivered next Saturday, and the fabric we picked out is a dark rusty red chenille with coordinating pillows. Hopefully it will all work together.

Anyway, that brings us to my question about decorating our basement. We still have a lot of work to do down there. Currently, the walls are two different cringe-inducing shades of sky blue, with a cartoon Noah's Ark border in the center of the walls. It used to be a kid's playroom, I guess. We removed most of the border already, but still have major patching to do before we can paint. We're aiming for a dark, intimate, pub-like decor, much to The Huz's excitement, because we plan to eventually build a small bar down there. I would like to put up a chair rail, and paint the bottom half of the walls a dark color...green, perhaps. But then I'm thinking of hanging a patterned wallpaper above the chair rail. Something very subtle and on the masculine side. Maybe a diamond or stripe pattern.

How hard is it to hang wallpaper? I've never done it before and I'm a little intimidated. I'm not usually a wallpaper type of girl, but I feel like it would be a good choice in this instance.

Any pointers or tips are much appreciated, as always!

Labels: celebrities, home improvement, movies, shopping, weekends

Besides Angelina Jolie, my biggest girlcrush has to be this lady:



That is my favorite female chef from the Food Network, Giada de Laurentiis. She's hot, she seems fun, and she can seriously cook. What more could you want? Plus, she's not all coked-up like Rachael Ray.

(Aside: I used to adore Rachael Ray, but I can hardly stand to watch her anymore. First of all, she's EVERYWHERE, which is annoying. Major media overload. Second, she is most definitely riding the white horse, if you catch my drift. It'll be fun to watch her crash and burn, though. And that time will come eventually, trust me.)

Anyway, back to Giada. Every recipe I've tried from her first cookbook, Everyday Italian, has been a success. I cannot say that about any other cookbook that I own.

Her new book is coming out in April, and here's the great part: I'm going to meet her!

She'll be in the area for a book signing on April 6. I'm actually taking a half-day from work just to go see her speak and have her sign my cookbooks. I may also bring a camera and have a photo taken with her, but I'm a little scared...she's GORGEOUS and I'm not so sure I want to be photographed right next to her.

Yes, I am a loser.

Labels: books, celebrities, food, local news, pretty, TV

Sorry I haven't been posting much lately. Things have been so terribly hectic for me. Mainly because I have been spending ALL my free time at the gym.

I have to go nine more times in the next eleven days in order to get the reimbursement that Brian's health insurance gives me. The deal is that each of us will receive $150 from Aetna if we visit the gym at least 120 times in a 365 day period. It's actually very EASY to go to the gym 120 times in a year, if you think about it. That averages out to about three times a week. That's not exactly grueling, Olympic-caliber training.

I enthusiastically began on April 1, 2005. On Tuesday and Thursday evenings, I took High-Definition Training, which was a small group class led by a personal trainer that focused on heavy weight lifting. So just taking that class for ten weeks guaranteed that I would be at the gym twice a week, at the very least. On two or three of the days I didn't take the class, I did cardio either on the treadmill or the bike. I was a good girl. A good, STRONG girl.

The class ended in mid-June. I continued to lift by myself faithfully for the remainder of the month, as well as doing the normal treadmill thing. I felt like I was on top of the world.

July came, and we began looking at new homes and put our house up on the market. At that point, chaos ensued. I was frantically trying to keep our house spotless at all times in anticipation of walk-throughs by potential buyers. That took up a lot of my time and energy. Plus, we spent many evenings after work meeting with our realtor and looking at prospective new houses. We'd get home, exhausted and hungry, and the gym routine pretty much fell to the wayside.

We found a house fairly easily, and our own townhouse sold after about a week on the market. Still, we faced the prospect of cleaning out all our junk and getting ready for the move. If I made it to the gym ONCE a week during this time, it was a miracle.

In August, we moved into our new house and started doing some work on it immediately (painting, new countertops, new appliances, etc.). OK, I'll admit it: I don't think I visited the gym more than twice in August. Shame on me.

September arrived and I began studying HARD for an exam that I wanted to take for my job. If I passed it, I'd get a $750 bonus. You can imagine what happened to my gym time.

In October, I finally felt like balance had been somewhat restored to my life. I began going back to the gym on a regular basis. But I was bored. However, my sense of boredom was superseded by the sensation of my pants getting tighter. Hee. There's nothing more motivating (for me, anyway) than a closet full of clothes that are beginning to fit improperly, or worse, not fit at all.

Unfortunately, the holiday season began shortly thereafter, and time was again at a premium. Of course, it didn't help that there were the usual heaping plates of goodies at every turn. Cookies, candy, cakes, booze, high-calorie meals, oh my! Between April 1 and December 31, I had only logged 84 visits to the gym. Eighty-four stinking times in 39 weeks. Totally pathetic. I knew I'd have to make a BIG comeback. I was going to get my $150 reimbursement, dammit!

January 1 came and I was...SICK. With strep throat and a high fever. Despite my best intentions to hit the gym with a revitalized fervor on New Year's Day, I didn't go. Probably best that I stayed home. Within a week, though, I was back in action on the treadmill! Also, as you read last week, I have begun weight lifting again. And I'm awfully sore but loving it nonetheless!

As of last night, I have logged 111 visits. I probably would have reached the 120-visit goal by now if I hadn't gotten deathly ill again in late February. That was completely unexpected, and it set me back about a week. But the clock keeps ticking. I won't be able to go tomorrow night because my boss is taking a few of us to the Flyers/Penguins game after work. So technically, I need nine more visits in ten days.

Eeek!

Labels: health, money

Does anyone else think that, at age 63, Harrison Ford is just too old to be playing Indiana Jones?

Don't get me wrong...I love, love, love those movies. All three of them are highly entertaining. If any one of those movies comes across my screen as I'm channel-surfing, I will absolutely watch it.

As a kid, I wanted to BE Indiana Jones, or at least his long-lost younger sister. I used to daydream about being an adventurer in a faraway land, finding treasures and beating up the bad guys. I even owned one of those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books that featured Indiana Jones in the storyline. Let me tell ya, I must have read that book about a million times! Now, as an adult, I can appreciate his swagger and sex appeal.

BUT.

The last Indiana Jones movie was made almost twenty years ago. In The Last Crusade, Sean Connery played Indy's father, and was a few years YOUNGER than Harrison Ford will be when and if he makes the fourth installment in the series. That's just weird.

Another thing: I can almost guarantee that the actress who plays the "love interest" role opposite Ford will be at least twenty years his junior, which I think is totally creepy.

I don't know. Maybe I'm being age-ist. I'm not saying that older folks should just lay down and die after reaching a certain age. But I don't think this role is viable for him anymore.

Labels: celebrities, deep thoughts, movies

If you've taken a eight-month hiatus from lifting weights, do yourself a favor and DO NOT attempt to lift the same amount that you had been lifting eight months ago, when you were lifting on a regular basis.

Ouch.

Also, please do not try to keep pace with the obviously juiced-up musclehead who's benching 400 pounds across from you.

Double ouch.

Unfortunately, I did both last night and I deeply regret it this morning. Especially since I've been out of practice for the better part of a year.

When I began lifting seriously last spring, I could barely lift the 45 lb. unweighted bar. After ten weeks of dedicated training, I was benching 120 lbs. I was doing bicep curls with 20 lb. dumbbells...no little rubber neon dumbbells for me! I was doing the leg press at 220 lbs. And no, never at any point during this time did I resemble Arnold or those scary broads in the professional bodybuilding competitions. So ladies, please don't be afraid to lift HEAVY weights...it's good fer ya and you won't get bulky, I promise!

Anyway, last night I got back on the bench for the first time since July 2005. I did the first set of ten reps at 95 lbs. and nearly died. Then I attempted the second set and could only pump out five reps, at which point I had to holler for Brian to spot me. Meanwhile, G.I. frickin' Joe is on the bench across from me, grunting and gasping like he's giving birth. He was lifting a bar with four 50-lb weights on each side. Yikes!

So today, I'm walking around like a mummy. I can hardly move. Real cute. And it's not just my chest...it's pretty much my entire upper body. Arrrgh!

Quit laughing! It's not funny.

Labels: FYI, health

I'm pressed for time this morning, so my observations about last night's show will be short and sweet:

Best Performance: tied between Taylor Hicks and Paris Bennett. Taylor did so well last night, but I still find myself distracted by all his tics and twitches. It's like watching someone having a grand mal seizure when this guy sings. Paris is a natural performer who makes it all seem effortless. But do we need another Fantasia? Hmmm.

Worst Performance: Kelly Pickler. She looked great but her song nearly put me to sleep. And she sounded way too country. No soul at all.

Simon must really have something against Kevin "Chicken Little" Covais, and I don't understand why. The kid's a decent singer, and he's only 16 for god's sake. I thought he kept up really well when he did "Part Time Lover," which is an EXTREMELY difficult song to sing. But Simon is out to get him. He'll been gone soon enough, though. He's good, but not good enough to last much longer.

Ace. Eek....not good last night. And he needs to brush his hair. Looked like he just rolled out of bed and onto the stage, and NOT in a good way.

I know that everyone drooled over Mandisa's performance, but it left me cold. I think it's because I expect more from her, since it's obvious she can really sing. In my opinion, not her best night.

Elliott sounded OK, but it was not his best performance ever. Still, I just love his voice. He's probably the only one of the twelve whose album I'd buy, if he were to make one.

Lisa Tucker, my early favorite, also sounded just OK.

Melissa "Butterface" McGhee: Even my husband, who doesn't usually comment on people's appearances, turned to me during her song and said, "Man, her face looks BEAT." Hee. She sang "Lately," one of my favorite Stevie Wonder songs, and completely fucked it up. She forgot the lyrics at least twice during the song. I felt a little embarrassed for her.

Bucky looked like he had a nice hot oil treatment for his hair, finally! I found myself feeling a twinge of envy over his shiny, wavy locks. He did a better job than I thought he would with "Superstitious." Still, I don't see him going much farther.

Chris Daughtry is HOT, yo. He covered the Chili Peppers' cover of "Higher Ground" and sounded great! I did think his voice was drowned out a bit by the guitar, though. He's another one who is completely comfortable onstage. He'll definitely be in the final four.

Katharine McPhee: she's beautiful and she can sing...she was awesome last night. But that dress she wore brought her dangerously close to "Wardrobe Malfunction" territory. Anyway, I think she's the most attractive of the female contestants. Plus, her mother's a voice teacher, so KM's probably been singing before she could speak.

Either Kelly or Melissa will be going home tonight. Frankly, Melissa is a teensy, tiny bit more talented, despite the fact that she forgot the lyrics to her song. Because of that, I hope that Kelly is the one who gets the boot. But Kelly probably gets a lot of Southern votes. So we'll see.

As for last week's results, I was 50% right. So my predictions are 6 for 8 so far.

Labels: American Idol, music, TV

This past Saturday was Brian’s 34th birthday. As has been the tradition, his parents drove down from Rochester to spend the weekend with us.

My in-laws are lovely people. They are very generous to us, and we all get along quite well. That’s all that anyone could ask for, really. So I feel some latent Catholic guilt when I say that Brian’s mom is quite a handful.

It’s not that she’s rude or mean. She’s just EXTREMELY talkative and high-energy, the ultimate extrovert. And if you’ve been reading my blog lately, you’ll remember that I am quite the introvert. So to spend an extended amount of time with someone who is my polar opposite really wears me out.

We took the day off on Friday, and they arrived at our house around noon. I had put together a casual, make-your-own-hoagie lunch for us, and afterwards we took them to walk around Valley Forge Park for a while. I was hoping that would take the edge off some of her energy.

Well, that was not the case. In fact, she was more hyper than ever. We got home around 4 p.m. and I decided that I’d have to start drinking heavily if I were going to last for the rest of the night. So I popped open a bottle of pinot grigio for her, and mixed the first of many Fuzzy Navels for me while preparing dinner (which was delicious, if I do say so myself—I made chicken piccata, roasted red bliss potatoes, and a copycat recipe of Texas Roadhouse green beans with bacon and onions. Mmmmm!).

After dinner, we chatted for a bit, then watched Walk the Line. Yes, I just now FINALLY got around to getting it. Outstanding movie, by the way. I can see now why Reese won the Oscar for best actress. She was phenomenal. I’m still puzzled that Joaquin didn’t win best actor, though. His performance was beyond great. However, I’m still waiting to see Capote, so I can’t draw any comparisons between him and Philip Seymour Hoffman.

After the movie ended, I could barely keep my eyes open. So I excused myself and went to bed, which I think disappointed her. I guess that was a little rude…the hostess going to bed before the guests, but oh well. I needed to escape the chatter before I ripped out all my hair.

I woke up on Saturday at 7 a.m. and took a loooong walk by myself. Then Brian and his dad went golfing, as they always do, so it was up to me to entertain her. Of course, it was gorgeous on Saturday, sunny and in the 70s, but we spent most of the day inside at the King of Prussia mall. Brian’s cousin is getting married in June, and his mom and I were looking for dresses to wear to the reception.

After five department stores and four hours, we must have tried on thirty gowns each. She finally bought a dress at Lord & Taylor for $140…and I found a fabulous, floor-length chocolate brown dress on the clearance rack at Strawbridges for $40! Yahoo, baby! I was thrilled by the bargain, since the dress was originally $180. Both dresses are beautiful, but I swear…if I heard her complain about how flabby her arms look, I thought I’d have to slap the taste out of her mouth. The woman is a size six. Give me a fricking break.

We got home around 4:30 and started getting ready to go out to dinner. My parents came up to the house and we went to a local restaurant. I was so relieved that they were there to carry the conversation that I sat at the table like a mute for most of the meal. Afterwards, we went back to the house and had cake and coffee. My parents headed home around 9:30, and I just barely made it throught the first half of the 10 o’clock news before announcing that I was going to bed. She must think that I am totally lazy, but I don’t care.

They left yesterday morning around 10:30. By 10:33, I was fast asleep on the family room couch.

It was a successful weekend, but I’m kind of glad his parents live 350 miles away. I’m not sure if I could handle her energy level on a regular basis. She’s so high-strung that I just want to lay down and go to sleep after spending a few hours with her.

However, I know that many people have it worse than me, as far as their relationships with their in-laws, so I do realize how lucky I am.

Labels: bitching, family, marriage, movies, shopping, stress, weekends

I was so distracted thinking about Flava Flav tonguing all those women while wearing that stupid horned helmet that I totally forgot that tonight is the Results Show for AI.

Here are the people I think will be packing their bags tonight:

Melissa McGhee. She claimed to have won beauty pageants, but I'd like to know ON WHAT PLANET that would have happened. The original Butterface (everything else looks good BUT HER FACE).

Kinnik Sky. Whenever I see her, the first thing that pops into my mind is "post-op transvestite." That, and then Austin Powers yelling, "She's a man, baby!" I'm heartless, aren't I?

Kevin Covais. Chicken Little! I actually kind of rooted for him, because his voice is pleasant and he's as cute as a button. But I just don't see him as American Idol material. And he lisps when he sings, which is incredibly irritating.

Will Makar. Who, in my mind, resembles the spawn of Fred Savage from The Wonder Years and Donnie Osmond, if they mated.

So we'll see...

Labels: American Idol, music, TV

In the past few nights, I've caught bits and pieces of the new VH1 countdown show "I Love Toys." So naturally, now I have to bitch just a little bit about these kinds of shows on this station.

As far as I know, VH1 stands for Video Hits 1. But the only time they actually play music videos now is early in the morning (Jump Start) and during the Top 20 Countdown.

Remember when VH1 was really taboo? It was the television equivalent of an easy-listening radio station. You couldn't even admit that you watched it for fear of ruining your reputation. They played a grand total of five music videos back then, set on an endless loop: Phil Collins' "Do You Remember," Bobby McFerrin's "Don't Worry, Be Happy," Heart's "All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You," George Harrison's "I've Got My Mind Set on You," and Rod Stewart's "Downtown Train." Ugh.

Inexplicably, VH1 became cool in a kitschy way several years ago. I think the turning point was the original version of "I Love the 80s."

Talk about milking a good idea completely dry. The first "I Love the 80s" was really funny because it was offbeat and authentic. But instead of basking in the glow of an unexpected hit and then moving on to something new and different, the powers-that-be at VH1 took the same concept and applied it to the 70s (a few good moments, but not as funny) and the 90s (not funny at ALL, plus way too soon after the decade ended). Then they went back to the 80s not once, but twice more.

At this point, VH1 has totally jumped the shark. The fact that Flava-Flav now has his own reality show says it all, really.

And don't even get me started on MTV.

Labels: bitching, memories, music, TV

No, you dirty birds, not THAT "O" word...I'm talking about organic food!

One of my New Year's resolutions was to reduce the amount of processed foods that we eat. Since then, I've switched over to buying as much organic food as possible. Our local Genuardi's supermarket recently introduced their house brand, called "O Organics" that is very reasonably priced and widely available as substitutes for many types of food. For example, if you were to open my pantry today, you'd see the following organic foods:

tomato paste
tomato sauce
macaroni and cheese
pasta
ketchup
chicken, beef, and vegetable stock
canned veggies

And if you opened my refrigerator, you'd see organic eggs, milk, cheese, butter, yogurt, and fresh vegetables.

The only thing I haven't switched yet is fresh meat and poultry. I'm still searching for the best prices on this stuff, because it is REALLY expensive at the supermarkets I patronize. This morning on my loooong commute to work, it occurred to me that perhaps I should contact some of my local farms to see if their livestock is raised without hormones and antibiotics. It would be even better if the livestock was free-range or cage-free.

There are three major reasons why I've switched to organics. First of all, organic food is thought to be healthier than foods that have been treated with pesticides, hormones, antibiotics, or have in any way been genetically engineered or tampered with. There's been a lot of research indicating that organically-produced foods contain less toxic nitrates and higher concentrations of vitamins and minerals than conventionally produced foods.

Second, I personally believe that organic food tastes better. Of course, this could be simply the power of suggestion at work. Perhaps someday (when I'm truly bored) I will conduct some kind of double-blind taste tests to prove my theory.

Third, products from animals who were raised in an organically friendly environment makes me feel better. I swear I'm not some kind of covert PETA member, but if I have to eat animals, at least I know they enjoyed their lives before ending up on my dinner plate. That the hens who produced the eggs in my omelette are allowed to wander freely and weren't injected with growth hormones or antibiotics to increase the size or production rate of their eggs. That the cow who is now my medium-rare filet mignon could freely feed in a huge pasture, and wasn't miserably confined to a barn for its entire life.

I would love to hear from others about this. Brian thinks I'm a little crazy (that is, when he's not bitching to me about the higher grocery bill), but to hell with him! Do you think organic food is the wave of the future, or just the trendy thing at the moment?

Labels: food, money, shopping

You heard it here first, folks. Brenna, Heather, David and Sway are OFF!

That is all.

Labels: American Idol, music, TV

After last night's performance on AI, I am totally Elliott's bitch.

I watched the first six guys while I was working out at the gym. I have to say, when Elliott opened his mouth and started to sing, I nearly fell off the treadmill. He was so, so, so good! So natural! His voice was clear and pure. And all this with no vocal training ever, supposedly. What I find especially interesting is that his speaking voice sounds nothing like his singing voice. It's like listening to two completely different people. Wild.

In the face of such raw talent, I can forgive him a lot of things. I can even overlook the fact that his teeth resemble those of a late-stage meth junkie. As long as he keeps the grinning to a miminum, his choppers don't frighten me at all. Well, not too much, anyway.

So I really loved Elliott's performance. Ace's? Not so much. He immediately followed Elliott, and the two performances weren't even comparable. Intially, I was really excited when he announced that he was doing a Daniel Bedingfield song; even though I really don't like Bedingfield's material, I figured that Ace's vocal ability was a good match for it. He mangled the song title, though, which irked me a bit. But then he opened his mouth, and I really cringed. Particularly when he hit the falsetto notes in the chorus. He was way off.

Still, he'll go farther than he probably should, just based on his looks.

The results show is tonight, and here's who I think will be going home:

Girls: Heather Cox (did you catch her version of Mariah Carey's "Hero" on Tuesday night? YIKES!) and Brenna Gethers

Guys: David Radford and Jose "Sway" Penala

Labels: American Idol, music, TV