Waaah Waaah: That's the Debbie Downer noise you'll make when you realize what a slacker you are too

So I’m sitting here, all a-titter about writing my blog. After trying to shamelessly promote this thing to all my friends I received nice emails back from many people telling me about their blogs and their amazing – shit, strike that I’ve banned that word -unbelievable lives. After reading their blogs (and published articles for God’s sake) and hearing about what’s going on in their lives, I decided that maybe me talking about how last night’s episode of “Lost” REALLY pissed me off (right?) seemed kind of…lame.

So allow me to introduce you to 3 superbly cool, fantastic, talented, funny, creative wonderfully wonderful dudes. I don’t know if they watched “Lost” on Wednesday but if they did, I don’t want to know because it would piss me off even more that they had TIME to watch it.

Jaime: Jaime’s a copywriter and he too is seeking full-time employment. He’s very funny and talented and he’s pretty busy as he’s read about 611, 232 books. And that’s just since I met him a little over 2 years ago. I imagine his life total is somewhere in the gajillions. He knows a lot of stuff.

Ryan: I met Ryan back in the salad days of dot com. Ryan works for American Conservatory Theater, by day as a web guy who knows a lot of complicated programs and by night as a director, actor, writer and overall theater expert (I’m sure there’s a better word, but that’s what I call him). He’s unbelievably talented. He’s also starting his own theater company in San Francisco. He’s a photographer. And he built a 6-story building all by himself in less than 4 days. (Ok, so I made that one up but I'm sure he'll email me one day telling me he built a 6-story building one weekend for the hell of it)

Steve:: I’ve known Steve for um, 23 years. (Can that even be right? I work with people younger than that) I adore him. He’s got a doctorate in psychology and theology, a mortgage, his own practice, a dog and he and his lovely wife Shelley just made FOUR BABIES AT ONCE. QUADRUPLETS. That's a lot of babies. Oh, he also has a book deal pending. And he is some sort of contributor to this online magazine thing. What a fucking slacker.

So….who wants to read about how I badly I want a dog right now instead of a baby? Anyone?

We interrupt this blog with a message from some woman on a moon who likes...beer?

Sorry, ad people. I hate to take away from the time when you read senseless blogs at work with - of all things - an ad question, but I’m just wondering: what the hell is going on with Miller High Life and the new TV spot…the woman on the moon? So now Miller High Life is targeting WOMEN? Bravo and all, I mean, we ladies like our brewskies (hang on while I crush a can on my forehead). But I loved – L-O-V-E-D – that manly man that made fun of henpecked husbands, men who drive mini-vans and kids who play soccer. Where'd that guy go?

What irks me is that they reeled me in with the music. MUSIC. No glistening beautiful people. No frogs. Music that could have been used in a Baby Einstein ad. They’re totally fucking with us, right? Mixing baby music with beer? My brain is about to pop out of my head. I don’t know what to do here. How to FEEL. Should I get pregnant and drink a beer? Or put on a wife-beater and spackle up a window? Or spackle a window, play soccer, birth a baby, watch Oprah and crack open a cold one? This may be too much for me. I can’t even focus on the spot because I’m so….verklempt while I watch it. What’s the world coming to when ads try to sell women beer? I feel all jittery. This is very confusing. What’s next, selling men tampons? Douches? Selling kids cigarettes? Holy shit…that’s been done. It all makes sense now. It’s an advertising apocalypse! Save yourselves, people... grab your mud-wrestling models and run!

Amazing: Not so amazing anymore

Everything’s amazing now and frankly I’m just tired of it. Even worse, thanks to reality TV, many things are “an amazing journey.” “Those shoes are amazing.” “This wine is amazing” “Our date was amazing” “it’s been a really amazing journey, this walk to Safeway for lunch.” ENOUGH!!

Could somebody PLEASE make another word in vogue? I mean, amazing is the fact that people are building houses in midtown Manhattan to ship down to Katrina victims in New Orleans. Amazing is when somebody delivers a kidney in a cooler so somebody else can live. Amazing is not when J.D Fortune wins INXS Rock Star (though I must say, I did think J.D. delivered the best performance in absolutely dreamy and sexual-chocolate-esque fashion). And an amazing journey might be a safari, where wild zebras charged your Land Rover and you sped away with a little zebra spit in your hair. Probably not so much when The Bachelor Bob Geddy offers you a rose to stay another week. (OK, maybe that hot guy Charlie who was Trista’s runner-up, but not Bob.)

New word. Please.

Why ya gotta be all bitchy like that?

When it comes to interaction among women who don’t know one another that well, there are two types of ladies: “friendly, outgoing, hey-how-ya-doin’” ladies and “I’ve met you 16 times but I’ll still pretend I have no fucking clue who you are and treat you like an absolute piece of shit” ladies. Am I right? And per my headline, I just need to know: why ya gotta be like that? Help a sister out.

Let’s take me as an example. I’m harmless. My dear friend Christian once dubbed me the “golden retriever of humans”. I just like making friends. Is that so wrong? I don’t want your boyfriend, your husband or your job. I might envy all those things but anything I get, I can get on my own, thank you very much. If you’d stop to talk to me for 5 seconds you’d find out I really am genuinely interested in you and if I’m staring at you it’s probably because I really like your shoes or something. If you’d return my gaze I’d probably tell you that. See, I’m a people person, goddamnit!

I’d dare say most women (60%?) are the same as me when it comes to chatting it up with other women. The other 20% (the ones who look at the floor when you pass them) are probably just shy and after a few stupid jokes at the copier or a fat glass of wine at happy hour you can break through. But it’s the other 20% that I can’t quite crack. Hmmm.

Let me get a big HELL YEAH

Sometimes all it takes is a well-timed performance on the Today Show to remind me what I’d forgotten was on my iPod. Two words for you: Gretchen Wilson. OK, wait, actually 2 more: Redneck Woman. Go download it now. I know, I know, all you city-folk non-country music lovin’ people are rolling your eyes right now. But just give it a listen. PLEASE. Even if you hate country or end up hating the song, you’ll laugh at the words. And I bet you a skinny, no foam soy double-something latte that you’ll actually be humming it later on and – this is really bold – may even find it works for your impromptu karaoke performances. A big “hell yeah!” to Becca for introducing me to this song so long ago, to Dayna for driving around looking for parking extra long so we could listen to it and to Missy for (unknowingly) allowing me to burn it while I house-sat for you. I ain’t no high-klass broad. Nope. (see: “why ya gotta be all bitchy like that” entry. Maybe my propensity for liking songs like this perpetuates the problem??)

Good clean karaoke fun

The next time you’re having a bad day and you have your iPod with you, try this little exercise guaranteed to make you think you’ve had some really good drugs for about 3 minutes. Here’s your charge: you’re making a video for that song you’ve listened to 11 times in a row. Only not a slick, MTV production value kind of video. No, you’re making a low-budget, made-for-an authentic-Japanese-karaoke-bar video.

Let’s think about how Coldplay’s “Speed of Sound” might pan out a little differently. There’s no shadowy, sexy Chris Martin all silhouetted and crooning at you. Nope. Not in your video. In YOUR video, there’s a sand castle. That’s right. Then a balloon that somehow floats out of the sand castle and across… a moat. To a real castle. Where a wistful looking woman that was probably considered sexy circa 1983 is wearing a calico print dress and doing her laundry on a washboard. (She's wistful because she wants a washing machine) See? This video concept makes PERFECT sense with the lyrics. “How long do I have to climb? Up on the side of this mountain of mine?” (cut to more hard washboard scrubbing by Calico).

And just like that… a karaoke video is born.

Poopy Pavement

Hey Seattle, how come you people don’t scoop your dog’s poop?? This isn’t France! Anyone?

Help! I’ve fallen in the wrong demographic box and I can’t get out!

I’m so stupid! I can’t believe I let myself get reeled into yet another trashy reality TV show targeted to the 12-24 audience. But it’s just so bad that it’s good and I have to share.

This time it’s E’s “Filthy Rich Cattle Ranch”. If you haven’t seen it, the “concept” (note the quotes) is that a bunch of late teen/early 20-something sons and daughters of wealthy and/or famous people are responsible for, of all things, driving a herd of cattle somewhere. I don’t even know where. I mean, who really cares when you’ve got the son of George Foreman, Robert Blake and Anthony Quinn mixing it up with the daughter of Pat Benatar, Lou Ferrigno and Terri Semel….just to name a few. One of my favorite quotes comes from Noah Blake (who apparently thinks his herding skills are “totally superior” to the rest of the group): “It was strange going out on dates with new people and they’re like ‘What does your dad do’? and I’m like ‘Uh…you know. Murder trial.” Need I type more?

One of my faves is Fabian Basabe, son of an Ecuadorian business tycoon. He threatens the ranch hands with slander because they call him lazy. He leaves during a crucial herding moment to find his $2000 jacket he lost in a field somewhere. He laughs when his charity loses money because he went “into town” to see a movie. And I bet he and Kristin from “Laguna Beach” have, like, TOTALLY done it!

Someone please….take the remote from me.

Testing, testing....is this thing on?

It’s official: I’m a blogging sell-out. Not long ago I wondered, as the “Alfie” back-up singers might say, what’s it all about, this blogging? I mean, how vain could a person be? How ballsy is it to post rants, raves and useless information every day and assume people would actually be …interested?

Funny thing, the blogging. I found out I WAS pretty interested. Not only in my friends’ blogs, but in people’s blogs I’d never even met. I mean, I’m a copywriter for God’s sake. And not even a gainfully employed one. I’ve spent the last month writing about Lottery Scratch cards. I’ve spent my precious off-hours sitting on the couch of a corporate apartment watching hurricane coverage and after-midnight Bowflex infomercials. I love –L-O-V-E- that John O’ Hurley won the “Dancing With the Stars” rematch. Since when did I get so snotty about what’s interesting to read and pay attention to?

I’m from the south so sometimes I’m a little slow, but it seems this blogging thing might be a good idea for me. Maybe keep me in the practice of actually writing. I figure if only three people (outside my family) read this, think it’s even slightly amusing and pass it on to three other people, maybe they’ll pass it on. To people who need copywriters. Or to the really, REALLY powerful people – people who want to, say, send me some chocolate chip muffin tops or something so I can give a little mention on this VERY well-read blog. (Come on, I’ve got a circulation of at LEAST six people. Get in on the ground floor!)

Sure, there will be elements of the ridiculous. Re-runs for some of you of some of the same ridiculous material I’ve trotted out for the past few years. Gregory Peck and my amazing likeness to him. Latka the African security guard at Walgreen’s who asked me to have his children while I shopped for a multi-vitamin one day. How I was duped with a Yehuda diamond. “Filthy Rich Cattle Ranch”. Burritos. Juicers. I don’t know. I’m making this shit up as I go. So, pretty please, post comments. Subscribe or whatever it is this website allows you to do. Forward me. And if you’re even slightly entertained, please come back.