Bad Idea #49: August 5, 2010

It's over a hundred degrees outside, and not a breeze in sight.

Perfect day for a morning run, right?

Right.

But I hate being bogged down by water when I run, I so forego hydrating prior.

That way I won't get stitches from being water-logged, or hate myself because I drank too much and have to use the restroom halfway through my run, right?

Right.

Wait.

WRONG.

Guys. It's a terrible idea to go out on a six mile run in the heat, especially if you haven't had any fluids. 4 miles in, I was soaking wet. This would've cooled me off HAD THERE BEEN ANY WIND. Now that I think about it, there wasn't even any AIR. I was just running and suffocating in the heat when it happened. Call me a wuss, but I don't think that you are supposed to get violent cold chills in hundred degree weather. I had to stop at mile five and walk, praying I wouldn't die. I even stopped to drink from a gross, mud covered public water fountain. Thinking I was saved, I gulped the stuff down as fast as I could, only to HURL it from my body seconds later due to the fact that a) it was hot. I could've made a chai tea with that shit, and b) it TASTED like DIRT.

Let this be a lesson to us all. Wake up early enough to run before the sun rises to power and tries to KILL you.

Dying,

Julia

Bad Idea #48: August 4, 2010

When I was in junior high, everyone said it. It wasn't just a popular phrase, it was slang ingrained into everyone's head. It was part of pop culture.

"That's so gay."

Gay. As if "gay" = "stupid." As if "gay" = anything negative. It was a huge embarrassment to be called "so gay," and something was unfair or idiotic to the highest degree if it was termed "gay" by the masses.

What were we thinking?

Using words like "gay" and "retard" in place of insults or negative words is one of the worst ideas that is socially available to us.

It wasn't until I got to high school that I slowly began to realize that "gay" was in no way negative, and every time I said it in that way, I was being highly offensive. It wasn't until late high school, almost college, that I had more gay friends that I loved and held closer to me than strait friends. It wasn't until then that I became supremely passionate about gay rights... HUMAN rights.

High school. A time when we are ALL ass holes. Seriously, if you weren't a dick in high school, you have been either blessed in skipping that stage, or you will be a mean adult, because most of us hit the total and complete jerk stage in high school. Every. Last. One. of us. So think about how hard it is being different and not being able to help it in HIGH SCHOOL? To be unable to just fit in because you have a slightly different perspective? I had always questioned the losers that harassed people for supposedly "being gay." Sometimes these people were, sometimes they weren't. But either way, what were they thinking? I think it would start as some kind of joke, but the more serious it got, the more they realized, "Wait dude, I think that guy/girl really might be gay," the less funny it became. If it ever was funny in the first place. Which it was not. The more they realized what was really going on, the more they felt like douche bags. And with good reason. I had vowed to stop saying "man, that's gay" consciously by the time I was about 13. Others had started to slowly ween themselves off of it by the time we graduated, hopefully realizing that not only did they seem homophobic and insulting, but also just strait up immature, the product of a conservative suburb full of kids who thought they were bad ass skateborders or NFL-bound football stars.

By the time I hit college, I had eradicated even the association of the pop term for 'stupid' from my mind. And luckily, most others had, too. College is like heaven in many ways. So many good things happen in college, and though you realize that life is hard and it only gets harder from there, you also begin to see that the world can be so completely beautiful when you aren't bound to anything. People seem to be more aware of other people and their feelings as they grow up. Any gay, racial, or socioeconomic slurs are pretty much gasped over. Appalling.

"How could you say that?"

"What were you thinking?"

"That was so rude and not okay."

Gay being used as a synonym for stupid was a thing of the past now. Even when I went back to work at summer camp, or to sub in middle schools, I rarely if ever heard the term. Perhaps everyone is becoming more aware as a whole. Maybe it's not something you grow out of, maybe the world is growing out of it together. That would be nice.

But then it happened.

At the beginning of my second year of college, I moved into a glorious new apartment. I invited one of my best friends, a gay dude (go figure), over to bask in the beauty that was my new, clean room, with everything moved in and put away and sparkling. My new roommate came in to chat and goof around with us when she said it. SHE SAID IT.

"That's gay."

She knew my friend was gay. She knew. And she STILL said it, like the word "gay" was tainted with gross. Like, whatever she was calling "gay" was the dumbest most preposterous thing she'd ever heard of.

Ice to her. Ice shoulders. Not just a cold shoulder. I'm. talking. ice. I was so outraged that I couldn't even process a proper course of action. I could've just said what I say to everyone else; "Gay is not a synonym for stupid." I could've embarrassed her a little and said, "Really? It is GAY? Is it really GAY?" until she felt like shit and apologized and got the hell out of my room.

But instead I just filled the air with ice crystals, making it so awkward and uncomfortable that she left, at which time, we promptly began talking shit about the mishap.

Case and point: "gay" as "stupid" is out, a thing of the past that I am humiliated to have ever participated in. It should have never existed. I am determined to publicly humiliate people when I catch them. I'll try to be gentle about it, like Hilary Duff, but chances are that I will just tear you to shreds. You have been warned.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVicCD8FmMs

Julia

Bad Idea #47: August 3, 2010

I think acronyms in general are a pretty decent idea. When people ask me where I go to school, I save a lot of breath replying with the letters U and T, as opposed to having to reply "The University of Texas at Austin." Yikes. That would suck. Not to mention that it sounds a touch pretentious. I mean, think about all of those poor kids who go to Harvard, or Columbia, or Cornell or something like that, a school that can't downplay its status with an acronym. I feel so sorry for them; they are basically forced into their snobbery.

Or something like that.

The point of the acronym is to simplify things and make life easier. But have you noticed that there are some acronyms that completely defeat that purpose? In writing about Tucker Max yesterday, I was looking around his website and came across this one:

IHTSBIH = "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell"

Considering that every word in the title of his first book is one syllable, pronouncing I-H-T-S-B-I-H does nothing to cut the time off of it. Unless you use the acronym 100 times a day, it does not make it any easier to type out. You could attempt to make a word out of the acronym, but "i-hits-bih" sounds like some Yiddish expletive. The language is English, people. If it does not make a nice little three-letter word with a single vowel wedged between two consonants, making the acronym into a new word won't fly. And besides. "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell" is a funny, intriguing, provocative title. We should be shouting the full title at the top of our lungs to share the glory and humor of it all.

(Sidenote* I actually heard two women in my restaurant discussing this book and giggling over the title alone. Like, extended giggles, like they thought it was absolutely hilarious. Don't rob these women of their idiotic, sorority honed giggles that they rehearsed all the way through undergrad to attract their future six-figure husband.)

This seems to be the first and only mistake on the part of Tucker Max. If that's as bad as it gets, I'd say he's doing alright.

Acronyms are a stupid idea when they are a zillion letters long, don't simplify anything, or have to be explained every single time you use them.

1) I used to be obsessed with the food network. I wanted to learn how to cook SO badly, and be this impressive. cooking. woman. I watched every show I could, gained 3 lbs during chocolate month, and for a time, was a devout fan. Luckily this phase fizzled out by age 17 or so. Rachael Ray is my kind of cook. Everything she does is quick and easy, and looks really super yummy. But I cannot watch her show. I knew that I could never watch her show after viewing only one episode.

"Now I'm just going to drizzle my skillet with a few tablespoons of EVOO- that's extra virgin olive oil-"

But she says this multiple times in one show. "EVOO- that's extra virgin olive oil." WHAT GOOD IS THE ABBREVIATION IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT EVERY TIME. Ugh, Rachael Ray. I don't know why this annoys me as DEEPLY as it does. But this little quirk of hers is a DEAL BREAKER. There will be absolutely no 30 Minute Meals for me. I cannot take it.

2) I used to be really into America's Next Top Model. I looked up to Tyra Banks, and completely idolized her for a time: she had programs for young woman, her own production company, multiple worthwhile charities, and a couple of TV shows on the side. No big. But then I heard her pull a Rachael Ray. They were at panel, discussing which 7' waif should be eliminated next. She turns to the hot ass Nigel Barker and says, "[This girl] is modeling H2T, that's 'head to toe.'"

Tyra. Wha- that was dumb.

Click.

There ends a long, 13 season love affair with America's Next Top Model.

IGTCIMBIOTLOITSAGSVDAWAHDOM.

(If you couldn't figure that one out, it's "I'm Going To Change Into My Bikini In Order To Lay Out In The Sun And Get Some Vitamin D Along With A Healthy Dose Of Melanoma.")

Julia

Bad Idea #46: August 2, 2010

If you haven't read I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell*, by Tucker Max, I'm going to have to ask you to pick up a copy immediately and change that. You will be disgusted, you will hate him and think he's a jerk, and you will think that it is a really bad idea to be such a bad person. However, you'll soon come to realize that Tucker Max, is, in all actuality, a complete and utter genius, even if totally unethical. Who needs ethics when you're funny?

*I am well aware that the title should be underlined and not italicized. Thanks for nothing, blogspot, for NOT letting me notate correctly.

Start by reading some of his stories here:

http://www.tuckermax.com/stories/

Now, before you want to kill the guy, take into consideration that human beings lie. Frequently. Ladies and gentlemen, we are ALL liars. Deny it all you want, but you know that you have told lies, be it to protect someone's feelings or to bulk up a story and make it more exciting. Sometimes it happens involuntarily, just pops right out of your mouth, while others, you have been rehearsing it in your mind for long periods of time. Some of us are great at it, or, if you're unfortunate like me, you can't tell a lie and keep a strait face.

We were just talking about this today. A couple of friends and I were mulling over some glorious lies we'd told to get out of things, to make excuses, and to liven up a story that was really funny at the time, but didn't seem fresh anymore. They were all harmless, of course. It's not like any of us have ever lied about anything important. That's where you get into trouble. Tucker Max, though a completely different type of person than my dear mother, has obviously taken lessons from her. She is the embellishment QUEEN. I remember being younger and hearing her tell a story to 3 different friends in a day, listening to it change and grow more and more grandiose with each and every telling.

Example:

Real story

My grandmother was visiting us when we lived in Florida. She was sitting out on the back porch, reading, when she discovered a tiny garden snake across the porch. She picked up a nearby hoe (of the tool variety), gave a quick little chop, the snake was dead. My mother saw all of this from the kitchen window.

My mother's greatest fear in life is snakes. So her version of the story went more along the lines of something like this:

Mom's story

"My mother was outside reading on our porch swing, and you know, it's a beautiful day. A little humid, but heck, this is Florida. She was just putting her book down to take a sip of iced tea when she looked up and saw it; a giant, 4' long tree snake just slithering toward her. 4' LONG! That could've eaten one of my children! How it got into OUR back yard, I'll never understand, but we should have called Animal Control is what we should have done. Mom was quick on her feet, though. She grabbed a shovel and pounded it's head flat, knocking that sucker strait out. Then she took the hoe and started to kill it for sure. I look out the window from the kitchen, there I am, cooking a loving meal for my family, and here is my 75 year-old mother in the back yard, the hoe braced over her head like some sort of maniacal murderer, hacking away at the beast."

We all know which story was more fun to read and imagine. And in the long run, who is mother hurting by having fun with her overactive imagination?

Same with Tucker Max. His stories are morally bankrupt, a horrible example to any impressionable youth who might for some reason have that book in hand. But he HAS to be making a ton of that stuff up. And that is o-ttractive. I think he's a total hottie for being able to write stuff that has made me laugh out loud like an idiot in public.

Though, I think maybe I'll refrain from pursuing that attraction. The fact that all of that came out of his mind is slightly frightening, even if I just spent an entire entry justifying what he does.

Be on the look out for Assholes Finish First, coming out in September. Just from reading the TITLES of the stories in his new book, I am positive it will be as good or better than the last.

http://www.tuckermax.com/blog/details-about-assholes-finish-first/

Not lying about that.

(I've actually yet to exaggerate, embellish, or enhance anything that I have put up here. Just if you were wondering... I think I am going to keep it that way, too.)

I'm going to go revisit some of his older stories today. The best thing about this guy? He gives shout outs to Austin, Texas, UT, and the ladies that walk our streets.

Ba. ha. hahaha. hahahahahahahaha,

Julia

Bad Idea #45: August 1, 2010

Youtube may be one of the greatest inventions known to man. Though, when you are trying to get work done, youtube can be a pretty bad idea. This is "Youtube can be a bad idea depending on the situation: Installment 1."

We were talking about lollipops the other day at camp. This happens. There are children around, and to get them to do something you want them to do, you may or may not bribe them with lollipops that you may or may not have any intention of following through with. We have all done this, perhaps. Anyway, it reminded me of an old commercial for Charms Blowpops from when I was little.

So of course I went home and looked it up, because I seemed to be the only one that remembered this particular advertisement, and needed confirmation that I was not making it up. I stumbled upon a TREASURE CHEST of awesome 90's commercials, thanks in large part to the related videos suggestions on youtube.com.

It is my firm belief that most things geared toward children hit their ALL TIME PEAK IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD in the late 80's/early 90's. Even marketing strategy.

Check these out:

1) Barbie- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kip33bAfSI&feature=related

I wanted to buy every single variety of Barbie doll ever made ALONG with all of the accessories and things that Barbie needed to maintain a high standard of living between the ages of zero and 9. The commercial looks SO enticing, does it not? The house just folds right out, and Barbie moves just like a real girl throughout her dream home. It was not a toy. It was a piece of well crafted art. But so is the commercial. Those adorable children were no doubt switched out when it came time to shoot Barbie up close, the director opting instead for professional Barbie handlers to guide her perfect, plastic body through the commercial, providing kids like ME with the illusion that Barbie would be this graceful and fun to hangout with when I owned her, too. Not the case, but I STILL had a blast with her for every moment of our precious time together. Now little girls choose half-dressed Bratz dolls, which are really just slut training devices invented by middle aged men. But I won't get started on that. I've already made my point.

Charms Blowpops:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khVQW5yXkNg

And here is the commercial. The one I'd bee searching for. Full of kids that I, the everyday child, could easily relate to, just hanging out on a colorful, artistically put together set enjoying some blowpops. Lollipops seem to be a rudimentary element to having fun after viewing this commercial.

Zebra Fruit Stripe Gum:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1ci_JVK0i8&feature=related

This gum was SO awesome. I believe they still sell it, but there is no advertising space left for it on television. Man. When I got a pack of Zebra Fruit Stripe gum, it was like the sun was smiling down on me. I had the world in my hands, and everyone that wanted a piece was at my mercy. Power. That's what gum is all about.

McDonald's:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xal85wfPUyQ&feature=related

This commercial is like a full episode of Sesame St. or Eureka's Castle crammed into the space of about a minute. WHO WOULD NOT WANT a hamburger happy meal after this? I mean, a guy was willing to STEAL to get his hands on them. And then, when Ronald gets them back, he is so happy that he is willing to overlook his buddy's theft and just give him one to share the love. Yes. That is what it is all about. They MUST be AMAZING.

Blue Packaged Gummy Bears that no longer exist:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tASXup4tGQQ&feature=related

I don't understand why this particular brand was discontinued, because I loved them. I played with them more than consumed them, because I opened the pack and established a deep personal relationship with each one before we began our gummy bear playtime adventures.

Playdough:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQ9G3HfcheE&feature=related

"Fun to play with- not to eat."

I beg to differ. Slightly tangy. Very delicious. And if you put it on a "play" ice cream cone, you can't tell preschool children not to eat it. It makes no sense.

Soon to cover 90's television, pop music, clothing, and any other nineties gold that I can get my hands on.

;)

Julia

Bad Idea #44: July 31, 2010

I love film. I've recently taken a much deeper interest in film acting and production. I enjoy a film that forces me to think, feel, and lose myself within good writing, good acting, and good production qualities, just as probably any film person will tell you.

Contrastingly, I HATE being forced to feel emotions that have anything to do with weddings and children. This is all about to tie neatly together, I promise.

I worked a long week at camp and at my restaurant job. Honestly, I could've been going to bed at 9:00pm every night and been a happy woman. But alas, job number two kept me up much, much later, while still needing to rise around 6:00am. So yeah, boo hoo, poor me. Whatever. My mother, a wonderful, kind woman, took pity on me, and suggested that yesterday (Friday) when I got back to her house from work, we go and see a movie.

This is my life in college #4,836,542: It's a bad idea to turn down a free movie. In high school, if your mother had said, "Hey girlfriend, let's catch a flick tonight!" which for the record, is not how MY mother tried to stay cool during my teenage years, you'd say no. Absolutely not. I would not have been caught dead at a social watering hole like a movie theatre with my mother at any point in time during my early teens.

But then, as my brother went off to college and came back on breaks, I noticed some odd behavior on his part. He went a LOT of places with my mom or dad by himself, places where all of his friends could potentially BE. What gives, brother? And then he sat me down and told me the secret, the big secret that all teenagers must learn:

If you are willing to spend time with your parents as you grow older and more distant, they are willing to pay for EVERYTHING. For example, you hit the mall with mom, try on a few clothes and outwardly lament over the fact that you are a poor college student and do not have the money to spend on frivolous items such as clothing at the moment. As you make a sad, well acted journey to disappointedly return each item of merchandise to its place in the store, Mom takes pity on you, and offers to make the transaction on your behalf, since she has noticed that you have desperately been needing some new jeans anyway. Cha-ching, ladies and gentlemen. Cha. CHING. This principle can also be applied to things that can deplete the bank account such as dining out and movies. And, my brother stressed, once we graduate from college and get real jobs and lives, this will not be acceptable, therefore we must live for the present. Respectable children DO begin to pay for themselves at some point in time, so it was IMPERATIVE that we lap up this golden, though manipulative, treatment whilst we could.

So probably in my junior year of high school, I got a head start on the "hanging out with the parents for the monetary perks" thing. Then I realized that I was over being an angsty teenager and LIKED hanging out with my parents. And I promptly said "screw you" to all of the friends that looked at me like I was weird for wanting to spend time with my family.

People can be jerks.

Anyway, still within the spectrum of college student who needs a financial break every now and then, I took my mother up on her offer to see a movie and was excited about it all day long, like a kid looking forward to a birthday party. I got home, showered, and waited for my mom to initiate the movie conversation. If you are not paying, you cannot bring it up, and you cannot choose the movie.

"You still want to go to the movies-"

"-YES."

"Let's see Ramona and Beezus. It looks so cute!"

"Um... yeah. Okay. ...Well...Let's go."

Not that I am hating on Ramona and Beezus. I read the books in second grade. They were an integral part of my childhood, and I enjoy remembering my childhood. But I was kind of hoping she'd lean toward Inception or Charlie St. Cloud. Though I should've known better. My mother doesn't like movies with action, complicated plots, death, or any human emotion that is not happiness.

So whatever, we go to Ramona and Beezus.

I laughed so hard in some parts that tears streamed from my eyes.

I was so moved at moments that I cried.

I loved this FAMILY. COMEDY.

What?

WHAT IS GOING ON? AM I INSANE? I AM ALLOWING MY EMOTIONS TO BE TUGGED EVERY WHICH WAY BY RAMONA AND BEEZUS. AND I DO NOT LIKE IT.

If you've read any of my facebook notes recently, you'll know that I detest weddings and the idea of happy families and children.

Okay, well I don't detest them. I just don't feel like any of that is something that I need to think about right now. Or even in the next five, maybe even ten years. I hate being made to think about children I might have, I hate that my heart melts toward them, I hate any thought that begins with, "Maybe at my wedding I'll..."

No. Stop it. There is no wedding that you need to worry about right now. I highly doubt your kids will be as freaking ADORABLE as Ramona Quimby, so don't get your hopes too high.

But then again... what if MY kids are cooler than Ramona Quimby? This could happen, that's all I'm saying.

Again, no. Stop. STOP FEELING EMOTIONS AND THINKING ABOUT YOUR FUTURE. I sincerely hope that the makers of Ramona and Beesuz did not intend to put my psyche through the ringer like this when they made this precious little film.

I will not be around kids for the next two weeks. I think that this is a good start on the road to recovery.

(Big sigh.)

Julia

Bad Idea #43: July 30, 2010

I am an avid 89.5 listener. KMFA is the only thing that plays in my car from August until December. Then I pause to listen to Christmas music, and return to public radio in January. But come June, I switch over to the more popular stations. ("What?" you say? "Isn't 89.5 the most popular station among college students in Austin, TX?" To which I would roll my eyes and tell you to stop making fun of me.)

96.7 Kiss FM has a lot to offer in the mornings on the way to work. The Bobby Bones Show truly is entertaining, and even informative at times. And I have a massive crush on Bobby Bones. He's a classy guy. His aura reads positive and beautiful even across FM radio waves. But talk shows are beside the point.

Pop music today is not all bad. I don't NOT listen to it all year because I don't like it. If its at least catchy, it has done its job and deserves to sell. No, I chose to refrain from 'round-the-clock popular music because I cannot handle listening to the same ten songs for months at a time. Pop radio stations almost always kill their hits by consistently practicing the horrible idea of overplaying them.

Ke$ha is trashy as sin. I don't think that, if I knew her as a person, I would have much respect for her or want to become best friends. But "Tik Tok" and "Your Love is My Drug" were some really great songs... until I heard them thrice in one 20 minute car ride. Similarly, some really great recent pop hits, songs that I have found to be new and innovative and GUIDING POP MUSIC IN NEW DIRECTIONS have been obliterated by radio DJ's who listen to every request they get and just keep one record spinning all day long.

If I hear "California Girls," "Hey, Soul Sister," "Bulletproof," "Airplanes," "Billionare," "Break Your Heart," or ANYTHING by Lady Gaga over the weekend, I might die. This is not a drill. My eardrums might squirt out of my ears and RUN to get away from the SAME MUSIC OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN, and then I will be deaf. Then I will not hear the screech of the giant Norwegian Ridgeback that swoops in from behind to eat me as I get out of my car, and will be chomped by a dragon from a fictional book series, suffocating in his saliva as he swallows me whole, burning up to ashes as I pass the part in his throat that produces fire.

Dramatic?!

NO. NOT IN THE LEAST BIT. Did you not read the part about this NOT BEING A DRILL?

So radio goes back to 89.5, where the worst piece of music I am going to hear is Bolero.

(I'll let the bassoon players hate me for hating Bolero. At this point? I. don't. CARE.)

I got the magic in me...

Julia