What's New, Pussycat?

So, tonight I was baking.  Thought I'd use some of the kitchen gadgets I got for Christmas.  Then I thought, why not do some time-lapse food photography?  Then I started listening to music on iTunes and buying songs.  And then I started gathering photos I've taken of my cat, Nico.

And then I discovered iMovie on my computer.  That was at 10:22.  It's now 1:34 and I have something to share with the world.  It's silly, irrelevant, and a complete masterpiece!

Some Thoughts

I just learned that my college Spanish professor, Francis Pierucci, passed away this week.  I found out that he retired the year that I graduated, and I don't recall him seeming "old" enough to be of retirement age.  His demeanor and sense of humor made him more youthful.  I really enjoyed his class, it was very challenging.  I remember saying often, "no se" (I don't know.)  He was known for calling on students at random, so if you weren't prepared for class, you'd sweat the entire time.  I'm sad to know that he is gone.

Friday Photo: Tree in Autumn

I took this photo a few weeks ago, edited in Photoshop.

Listen: Girl Talk

Download Girl Talk's new album, All Day, here for freeeeeeeeee.

It is SO GOOD.

FREE JEWELS!

I am doing a winter giveaway for my jewelry line, RUM PUNCH.  To enter, become a fan here, and tag yourself in the photos here.  The only eligibility requirement is that each entrant be a 'fan' of RUM PUNCH jewelry.  Winners selected Friday.

The lovely Melissa - my first model.

Friday Photo: Open Road

Beautiful fall day in central PA.

Friday Photo: Brick Cat

6 lbs. in Pittsburgh:

Phillies

It's the most

wonderful time
















of the year.

Photos: TheFightins.com, [& I forget where I got the first two, sorry webmasters]

WATCH: The Cove

Netflix instant movies are incredible.  Since K bought a Blu-Ray DVD player and wired it to the internet, I can log onto my Netflix account and access my instant queue.  It's basically like ordering movies on demand, but for unlimited movies - $10 per month.

The first movie I watched was the 2009 documentary The Cove.  The movie sheds light on an annual dolphin slaughter which takes place every year in Taiji, Wakayama, Japan.  The documentary's sad, eerie tone carried throughout the duration. It is decidedly one-sided.  In America, we raise and kill cattle for food.  It is our equivalent, you might say. But it is not quite the same - dolphin meat is highly poisonous. 

This is a must-see for people around the world.  However, I think that the most dedicated of dolphin lovers would find this very difficult to watch.  But it definitely educates tourists who attend dolphin shows or pay to swim with dolphins.

Activist Ric O'Barry says "The dolphin smile is nature's greatest deception," Ric says. "It creates the illusion that they're always happy."

 Here is a list of facts regarding cetacean captivity, hunting and use for food:

- Since 2000, Japanese researchers, such as Tetsuya Endo, a professor at the Health Sciences University of Hokkaido, have found high concentrations of mercury, which can cause mercury poisoning, in the whale and dolphin meat sold around Japan. In their studies, Taiji residents who eat whale/dolphin meat had high levels of mercury in their hair.  (Wikipedia)

- Captures of dolphins are traumatic and stressful and can result in injury and death of dolphins. The number of dolphins that die during capture operations or shortly thereafter are never revealed in dolphinariums or swim-with-dolphins programs. (Savejapandolphins.org)

- Training of dolphins is often... misrepresented by the captive dolphin industry to make it look as if dolphins perform because they like it.. they are performing because they have been deprived of food. (Savejapandolphins.org)

• 
  

You and Your Dog

I like animals, and the types I come into contact with most often are other people's pets.  A few years ago, I recognized something about myself.  I like some pets more than others. It has to do with appearance, but mostly, it's about personality.  Pets are like their owners, and I've never disliked a pet whose owner meant something to me.  And the people I can do without - I don't like their pets either.

If I found myself really starting to like a guy and was invited to go to his house or apartment, I was interested for a few reasons.  It's always intriguing to see how a person lives - how the furniture is arranged, whether there are posters or art on the walls, the cleanliness of the space, the music collection, etc. is all very relevant.  And I was interested in meeting his pets: I can tell within two minutes if I like animals.  Here is where it gets really interesting: I have never ended up pursuing a relationship, professional or personal, with the owner of a pet I didn't get along with.  Of course it was never specifically about the pet.  Just know that the pets are linked to their owners.

As I write this, I am thinking specifically of the animals whose very sight unnerved me.  A fat cat.  More than two cats in one house.  A dog who barks excessively.  A dog with short, stumpy legs.

A client whose house I visited to do work, all the while his cat laid underneath my chair and attacked me with his claws.  It was nearly impossible to work in that situation, and the client was difficult.  He was a total pessimist who wanted to talk about politics when I wanted to work fast so that I could leave.  One time I showed up for a meeting to find out that he had completely forgotten about it.  I ended up accepting a better position with another company and told him that I could no longer work with him.  Nothing to do with the cat, but I didn't like him, and as it turned out, I didn't really like the job.

A toy dog owned by a former boss who barked at everyone who she paid attention to.  It turned out that my boss would begin obedience training with the dog, only to quit because she didn't like the trainer, and the dog's behavior never improved.  She was emotionally needy of me, as an employee.  That also was a difficult relationship.  Coincidence?

I worked on a couple of editing projects with a super organized woman who was very interesting to talk with and the work went fast and smoothly.  I met her cats, who were so beautiful and independent, and I loved them.

Fascinating that I love my boyfriend's parents' dog, Buddy.  I guess it's his substantial build, his good behavior, the way he perks up around my boyfriend, and how he rolls to his back with his paws in the air, begging for attention to his belly.

When it comes to cats, I like them to be smaller, and I like bigger dogs.

I am unsure if these animals are a product of nurturing, rather than nature; whether their households or owners have total influence over their demeanor.  But I know for sure that their outside beauty is representative of their inner beauty.  I might have affection for a small stray cat who loves to be brushed, or a huge yellow lab who kicks with joy when his belly is rubbed.  Other people like other animals -- (and I'm not likely to like either of them.)

My friends -

A life, a war, and a spill.

I spoke with a client recently, who related that the US-Iraq war has been going on as long as her youngest child has been alive: 7 years.  (The Afghanistan war is not quite as old as her eldest child, but then again, Afghanistan, it seems, has always experienced conflict with a foreign people on its soil.)  Quite a different way to think about it, for me.  When speaking of periods of time such as one decade or two, it is an abstract matter.  However, bringing a human into the mix illustrates a clear view of just what can happen in that time.  Zora, the girl, is very active, cognizant, creative.  She has braces on her teeth, dances and plays softball, attends private school, sings along with songs on the radio, made her own bookbag, sees a speech therapist, etc.  In all of the years she has been alive, she has developed every day toward young adulthood.  And the war continues.

As the Gulf oil spill enters the 65th day of horror, I wonder what this means in human terms of growth.  Surely, the correlation won't be the same as the aforementioned.  A human is only an embryo after these seven plus weeks; this growth doesn't seem enough to illustrate the vast damage done in this time frame.  In one hour, eleven lives were lost.  For hours afterward, the workers on the Deepwater Horizon rig watched helplessly as the rig burned through the night, from a raft on the water.  In the days since the spill, countless livelihoods have been compromised.  The real crime is in the wild.  The animals and water fowl have great ability to sense danger and flee, but this is different, creeping in and affecting their habitat.

I'll conclude here, surely hoping that we humans have the ability to learn from this; humans have always had a tendancy toward violence, but hopefully we can absorb some of the pain that we have inflicted and learn from it, to try to develop alternatives for dirty energy and our own perspective toward our fellow creatures.

Art: Banksy.  Image: Redefine Magazine.

Alexis and the high speed French train

Alexis interprets a song from the score of The Fantastic Mr. Fox.  I saw her doing this for the first time this weekend.  Being young, imaginative and involved with theatre, she puts on displays on absolute whims.  I was so moved by this.. and am sharing it.

Happy 50th, Birth Control.

Today, Mother's Day, is the 50th anniversary of the oral contraceptive for women - the Pill.

In a perfect world, every woman would have access to it to prevent pregnancy, and it would be used correctly, lessening the occurrence of abortions, unwanted pregnancies and unplanned children.

Friday Photo: The Gates

I spent some years working for an NYC non-profit organization, shipping art prints.  It was a fun job and it connected me to many exotic people with fantastic names.  Most of the prints were of works by Christo and Jeanne-Claude, environmental artists.  I don't recall having liked one print particularly more than the others, but they were all pretty fantastic because they depicted works which were all of grand scale.


They've wrapped entire bridges, buildings, and islands.  This particular image was shot by Wolfgang Volz during their latest installment, The Gates (2005), in New York's Central Park. 


Image: christojeanneclaude.net

Friday Photo: Into the Wild

Disney World, last summer.


I'll be hanging photos at an art show in June, and am thinking this may be a contender.  I was going to theme the show fauna - for animals - but am thinking it will be more of an odds and ends type thing.

Thank You

Two words: it's very simple.  But the sentiment behind the words is much more, evoking affirmations when expected and most pleasant reactions when unexpected.  The words are powerful, much like "I love you," though used more commonly.


K and I went to a local grocery store to eat dinner before hitting an art show downtown.  The store is upscale, with a preferable selection of items.  The staff are noticeably friendly and helpful, and have demonstrated this to me every time possible.  But I was not expecting what happened last Saturday evening.


I had picked up a latte - I'd been craving one for days.  We checked out together and I pointed the cashier to the price code on my paper cup.  There were not many registers open at the time, and this particular cashier was evidently busy.  "Thank you," she said, looking me in the eye.  Her voice had an inflection in it, as if surprised.  Her tone was enthusiastically grateful.


Immediately, I experienced a feeling of happy contentment.  I felt my body warming, as if reacting to this simple phrase.  That she took a quick moment to connect with me was unexpectedly meaningful.


We acknowledge other drivers on the road for allowing us to pass or enter traffic.  We hold the door for fellow patrons who are just behind us at an entrance.  Cordially recognizing one another is a very pleasant, natural way to brighten the day of someone else - and by doing it, brightening our own as well.

Image: Getty Images

Manic Monday

Today, like all Mondays, I did not go to work in the morning. It is the tail end of my unwanted three day weekend.  Last spring, my hours at work were cut in half.  When my hours were reduced, I asked for Mondays off.  That way, I figured, I would have one weekday to go on job interviews and take care of any errands.  It was a good idea, saving me from working less hours per day and giving me total control of my schedule.  I find it curious that Mondays are so long and arduous.  All of my friends are at work. Even if I do my chores and catch up on writing AND reading.. I still have a ton of leftover time.  Try as I might, my situation has not improved much since then, save a couple of temporary freelance opportunities.  And babysitting.



Today I went to the bank.  As I approached my parked car, I noticed a car next to mine, the engine running, the driver in the driver's seat. The car was parked face out; mine was parked face in. Window down, as if the driver could communicate with me.  Not good, I thought, and made a commitment to getting in the car as fast as possible.


"Excuse me," I heard.


I did not want to get hit on.


I looked. He said, "Can you tell me where the post office is? I need to get a passport."


Harmless, I thought - Sort of. I gave him good directions and got into my car. I extended more than I should have and told him that he would need to make an appointment first, they would not accept a walk-in for a passport.

"So, can you talk for a couple of minutes?"


Fuck.


"No, I was happy to help you, but I'm not interested."


"You're pretty; are you married?"


"I know. I get hit on a lot. I'm not doing this."

Before I was off that street, my phone rang. It was the couple I babysit for. I was not in the mood for casual conversation, being a friend, or figuring out what weekend night I wanted to sacrfice. I didn't want to talk, but I also wanted to get it over with - so I took the call. 
I let the mom know that I was on the road, and would check my schedule and call her right back.  As predicted, I spent many minutes on the phone talking about things other than babysitting.  I was direct and to the point.  I avoided an uneccessary orientation sort of trip out of town with the mom (I did it before for this family, once is enough - besides, would I be paid to go for a car ride where I wouldn't be the authority in charge?  Was it appropriate to ask?) 

Since I've spent every Monday since midway last year mourning a full-time job, I ought to take every opportunity for income.  I reviewed my expenses this morning, and I really must take every opportunity for income.  I never imagined that when I came out of college with a four-year degree and an impressive list of leadership positions in student clubs.. that I'd be working part time and babysitting.

I'll be babysitting for the next six or seven weeks, once a week at minimum.

They are not well-behaved: they hit, lie, and test me.  They also not poorly behaved: they listen to me.  But they're very curious, and I'm not so entertained.  Last time, I found myself fielding sexual morality queries from an eleven year old: "I saw the previews for Iron Man 2.  The guy takes this girl home that he barely knows and they have SEX!  Don't you think that's a little..."

"Yes, it's wrong.  I'm not having this conversation with you."


Separately, theres something about disciplining other people's children that makes me mighty uncomfortable.  Children whose regular household rules are so different, more permissive, than the ones I would instill for my own family.  But I suppose I discipline other people's children more often than I know, as evidenced by the men who shamelessly hit on me and every other female.


Alternately, I am so grateful for my own high expectations of people, and for my own sources of income.  In times like these, people are just happy to have employment, and I am. But I'm also hungry, and happy, and the destination is the journey, so I make the most of it and stay mellow and calm, and most importantly, content.
 
But I don't entertain aggressive male strangers or bad kids.  They, simply, are misbehaving.

Image: Getty Images

Friday Photo: Michael Hussar

This image is so sick, I could stare at it for awhile.  I found this artist, Michael Hussar in a magazine.  
Check out a video of Hussar painting with a tattoo artist from L.A. Ink.


Photo: MichaelHussar.biz

Idol Picks: Update

After the past couple of weeks I have totally changed my picks for American Idol. I want Lee to win, and I dig Casey and Siobhan.

 

Photos: Poptower

Friday Photo: World in a Bubble

Meet Tom Storm.  He's a photographer with a love of traveling - who shoots images reflected in bubbles.

This crowd is from 4O1! day this year, April 1st.  (I am pictured right under the "At Bat" on the scoreboard.) Check out 4O1! Creative here.  They sure know how to host a party.

Table for 1

I talk frequently with a coworker on the benefits of doing things alone.  Movies, lunch, drinking (seriously – without a drinking problem, it’s OK to drink alone.)  He is a couple of years younger than me, so I make an extra effort to relate things to him.  I feel like, because of the age difference, he is still impressionable, if only a tiny bit.

“Ever hear of Glenn Miller?” he asked today. “Yeah,” I replied. “Really?” he asked – none of his friends had heard of the orchestra.  “Pretty sure my grandparents listen to them,” I explained.  He hesitated for a moment, and then said that they are coming to the State Theatre and he would like to go.  I encouraged him, and said to go alone. “Have you written about this yet,” he asked. “Going alone, I mean.  You should.”

No – I hadn’t, but I will. And so I am.

The aforementioned situation: Anthony will be the youngest person in the audience, if he chooses to go to the concert.  If he brings one of his peers, he’ll likely talk the person into the concert.  The person will not enjoy the concert nearly as much as Anthony, if enjoyed at all.  And so Anthony may find himself explaining his musical taste, having to defend his opinion, even finding himself indebted to this friend for the experience.

To this, I say this – Forget it. Go alone.

Things every woman should learn:

Going to a bar solo, ordering a drink, and reserving the right not to speak with anyone, refusing to accept a “free” drink, and not feeling socially awkward.

Having lunch.  By yourself.

Going to a movie.  By yourself.

Like everyone, my life experience so far is unique.  For the vast majority of my life, I have found myself not in a serious relationship.  I have not run with a crowd, ever.  I have never had an entourage. This is fine by me.  It doesn’t keep me from living, however: from going out to eat, going to a movie, out for a quick drink.

One day, I decided that I wanted to see Up.  I am a spur-of-the-moment type, and I left work in the late afternoon and caught a matinee.  It was awesome.  I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Admittedly, I’m a writer, which is a hopelessly alone type of thing.  I can’t write and be social at the same time.  (Even more, if I’m not writing, I’m probably unhappy and not going to be much to be around anyway.)  I pen dining reviews once a month, so I’m always going out to eat.  Often, I have no choice but to be alone because even working with my own schedule makes it tough to get away at the right time – restaurant hours, my work hours, and publishing deadline considered.  Forget coordinating with a friend.  If I wasn’t already comfortable dining alone, I’d just be getting comfortable with it now.

When I was just out of college, I moved across the country.  I spent a lot of time alone.  I had family and roommates, but finding friendship is quite difficult, just like dating.  As I explored my new city, I did much of it alone.  At age 21, these were the first years that I found myself going out to eat alone.  Once I had done it, I realized that it wasn’t so bad.  And even if you aren’t a food writer, there’s no shame in dining alone.  No one to argue with about money.  No need to feel guilty about what you’re eating - any more guilty than you already are.

Sitting at a bar, alone, is understandably scary for most women.  You might be thinking that everyone is looking at you, they are judging, etc.  It’s not true.  Some people will presuppose that you are alone, they may find you attractive, and they may think that you want to be picked up.  So all you need to do is to act uninterested.  To do this, use body language – turn away.  If you’ve accidentally locked eyes, give a quick, blank smile, and look away.  Demonstrate that you are busy by reading.  Some people will try to talk to you.  However, most times I have gone out alone, I have not had this problem.  The one exception was in Los Angeles, and L.A. is not a reflection of the rest of the country.  I found that the most aggressive people actually wanted to talk about themselves, not me.

The more experience you have, the more you will grow comfort with taking yourself out and defending yourself. 

Face it.  You don't always have an option for company at times that you want to go out.  If you feel comfortable going out alone occasionally, you won’t need to tolerate someone else.  And if you don’t enjoy your own company, why should anyone else?

Image: Getty Images

Idol: My Top 5

Here are my Top 5 for American Idol:

My pick for this year is Siobhan Magnus. 

I wish I could tell the contestants: 
Don't sing Michael Jackson or Anita Baker.  It can't be done.  
Lee should cover a Jonny Lang song.  


Ideally.. Alex Lambert would be in my top 5.  I really liked the Hispanic kid too.  I voted for both of them until they left.  Of the remaining contestants, the 16 year old kid has an incredible voice, but when I look at him, I see an old man. I don't get him.  I don't get Katie either.  Didi was good last week when she sang Linda Rondstadt, and the judges didn't give her enough credit. Last night she nearly ruined "What Becomes of the Brokenhearted." Clearly she hasn't heard Joan Osborne's version. (Standing in the Shadows of Motown - rent it. It is SO good.)


Typically, I don't like the raspy, hard rock type, but Lee is something more.  I think he and Crystal stole the show last night. 


Last night, I voted for Casey, Lee and Crystal.  It was the first week that I did not vote for Siobhan or Didi.  And the first week that I voted for Casey.


Do you agree with me? Why or why not?


Photos: Fox via MTV.com

Antiquing

A sometime-hobby of mine is antiques: browsing and occasionally buying.  My biggest interest is low-price jewelry.  I also like most things that are different, cheeky, thoughtful, beautiful, and rare.  I am into history and old literature, specifically of the Jazz Age.  There are a wealth of antique stores in my area.  Yesterday I went out for jewelry findings and came home with a lot of altogether different items.  Much to my surprise - most things were discounted 50%. 

The first stop, near the door, was a collection of antique silver.  I'm an afficionado of the cheese plate, and a burgeoning entertainer.  I picked up these butter knives and a spoon (all silver-plated) --

And I turned around and found this 3 piece set.  Sugar bowl, creamer, and tray.  Instantly, I pictured it sitting on a wooden table somewhere, filled with raw sugar and creamy milk, and looking handsome.

And then I found a stack of old sheet music.  It was all so clever.  Some of it was so silly I wished I could photograph it and post to Facebook instantly, but I had left my iPhone in the car.  This one was too good to pass up: "It's the Smart Little Feller Who Stocked Up His Cellar That's Getting the Beautiful Girls."

Words: Grant Clarke. Music: Milton Ager. Copyright 1920.  Check out the lyrics --

"Oh you won't satisfy them/ with presents you buy them

It isn't for presents they pine

Once they wanted a guy/ for the rocks he could buy

But now it's the guy/ with the old Rock and Rye

You may live in a palace/ but Annette and Alice

Will pass up on Dukes and the Earls

For some guy in a shanty/ with lots of Chianti

He's getting the beautiful girls

Oh, you beautiful girls.

I'd love to hear someone play this on a piano! 

Anyway - my total was less than $20. 

To the Editor (Re. an athiest holy day)

To The Editor
The Express-Times

Regarding the March 26th letter suggesting an athiest holiday, I beg the writer to consider the basis of the word 'holiday.' It is 'holy day.' The removal of prayer in public schools, while appropriate, is not much to celebrate. If you are thrilled by it, you might quietly recognize it. Ours is a Judeo-Christian country, out of tradition. I don't see harm in leaving God in the pledge, nor should anyone be chastised if he wishes not to participate in the Pledge of Allegiance.

Friday Photo: Nico the Cat

Happy Friday.  Do something restorative this weekend.

The Addiction

I frequent a website featuring street fashion photography, popular among the fashion world.  It occurred to me today how frequently I have seen a photograph of a person with a cigarette carelessly between two fingers, as if an accessory -- much like a belt, a hat.  This person is usually European, drop dead gorgeous, may be older but is often times younger.  This person is cool.  Confident.  Stylish.  Self-aware.  Or is he?

I have not been affected by a glamorous image of cigarette smokers.  There is an image that reached me much sooner, and it came to me in my youth.  This is an image of a person very, very dear to me, who has been addicted to nicotine ever since I can remember.  An addiction of heavy smoking that stains teeth, fingernails, and fingerprints a shade of yellow.  The lungs, a former pink, are aged black.  An addiction that comes with a cough that is chronic, has texture and layers, and is never just a single cough.  It is a coughing fit.  It is the body simultaneously needing and rejecting the nicotine. 

Ironically, I have suffered from asthma from a very young age.  I've not had the luxury of experimentation, of casual smoking.  When I was five years old, I spent time in a hospital tent so that I could breathe fresh oxygen, free from pollutants.  I remember using my Etch-A-Sketch but forbidden to shake it, because the physical activity was just enough to make me lose my breath.  My older cousin Donna sat with me and shook the Etch-A-Sketch to reset it.  About five years later, I went to the shore with my father and my brother.  We’d forgotten to pack an inhaler or any asthma medication, and I had an asthma attack.  I can still remember my father’s anger and fear as we waited for a prescription so that he could go to a pharmacy and get my medication.  I played basketball in middle school but it didn’t last.  I loved the sport but I couldn’t handle the running.  I played soccer in high school, it was my favorite sport.  I quit because I couldn’t run.  To this day, the following induce breathing problems: animals, dust, exercise, perfume, pollen, smoke.  I practice yoga and have become quite good at it.  My weaknesses gave way to my strengths. 

I am deeply saddened, however, that I must watch my father slowly kill himself with cigarettes.

If you are reading this, and you are a smoker, do me and yourself a favor.

Please quit.

Image: The Sartorialist

"Bingo!"

A couple of weeks ago, I committed to a basket bingo event which raises funds for K's brother's high school baseball team.  Their mother, Sue, had purchased a ticket for me.  I am not a bingo person, but I am a bit of a family person, and they are like family to me.  I was not thrilled but I was honored that Sue had bought a ticket for me, and one for Colin's girlfriend Megan as well.  We were all in.

I keep an open mind and an optimistic attitude at all times.  But this event was doomed from the start.

To begin, it's K's birthday.  I saw him in the morning and then went home and prepared myself a big breakfast - eggs, bacon and toast.  It was marvelous.  The weather outside was hot and sunny, the second hot spring day of the year.  I flipped on the TV.  Step Up 2.  Not exactly my kind of movie, but I turned it on just as the underdog dance crew was assembling.  I couldn't turn off the TV because I was enthralled in the sick moves the dancers pulled off.  I finally got my act together and knew I would now be 10 minutes late and still needed to get dressed.  Not wanting to leave the kitchen a complete mess, I prepared a hot soapy sink for all of the dirty dishes to soak.  By the time I flew out of the house, I was 30 minutes late.

I arrived at the high school and entered the cafeteria.  Upon entering, I was handed a stack of bingo boards (thin paper sheets in groups of 3) I located my group when I saw Sue standing and waving, and the lovely Megan came to greet me. I settled in at the table and turned to the page that my group was on.  I ripped off the cards on top of mine, believing that I had missed five or six games in my lateness.  I threw those games in the trash - a decision that would come to haunt me later.

It was packed with eager Bingo pros and baseball fans and family alike.  The varsity players circled the tables, offering special bingo cards and food for sale, and gathering trash.  After getting acclimated,  I was bored pretty fast.  I would be there for another two hours.  All I could think of was K, who declined the invitation to play bingo, saying "it's a ladies' thing."  I texted K: You owe me.

The events turned exciting when K's grandmother neared BINGO status.  Megan yelled "BINGO!" for all of the room to hear.  We quickly realized that no one at the table had achieved bingo, and Megan's face reddened as she realized that she would never live this down - ever.

Bingo moved fast.  With a group as large as ours playing three games at a time, someone yelled "Bingo" every couple of minutes.  Soon, I realized that I had run out of bingo games.  Sue laughed, realizing that I had thrown my cards out, and the baseball players had collected our trash and consolidated it in the bigger cans at the edge of the room.

And then Sue did something really embarrasing - she walked over to the trash and begin digging through it.  I rushed over to her, urging her to stop.  Another baseball mom walked over and helped her to dig through the trash.  I offered some self-deprecating comments, as I was now meeting K's family friends for the first time.  It was my turn to blush, and I wondered what I was missing outside in the sunny heat.  On K's birthday.

Sue acquired new cards for me, which was great, and I was back in the game.  Megan wanted to get some snacks, and she asked if I'd like to walk with her.  I remembered what it was like to be a high school girl: they travel in packs.  We took a few minutes, which, in Bingo terms, is a long time.  I sat back down and looked at the screen.  I had missed a lot of numbers.  I hurried to mark my boards with everything I'd missed.  Soon I was stopped, and I looked up to find everyone smiling at me: We don't play this game.  It's a special.

Specials, regulars, I had forgotten.  It made sense why we took a break, because we were not playing that game, and I quickly blamed all of this on my newly acquired ADD.  Fumbling for words, I was exasperated: "Does anyone have a gun?"

My companions laughed harder than they probably have in a long time.  Sue removed her glasses to wipe the tears from her cheeks.  I was strangely satisfied in my ability to get a rise out of people.  I should be a comedian.

Friday Photo: Inspiration

I saw this at the store when I was card shopping.

  Not a bad way to look at things.

Friday Photo: Childhood

Who was your childhood idol?  

Has time changed this, among other things?

The Big Idol Upset

Last night was one of the worst times of the season to be eliminated from American Idol, and the audience eliminated some of the best.   It’s befuddling, but also not at all upon a closer look at the audience.  The portion of the audience likely to vote is just a slice of the pie.   Let’s assume that those who vote do so in numbers larger than one.   So essentially, some of America watches Idol.   Some of them vote.  For the same person.   Many times in one night.

Following last night’s picks, I question whether I want to invest my time and energy watching the show.   I have voted for Alex at least 30 times this season.   I was a fan of Andrew, but after his lukewarm rendition of Genie, I was bored and unimpressed.   Tim Urban’s Hallelujah cover was uncomfortable for me.   Ellen went out of her way to hug him.  I wonder if she regrets it at all, in retrospect.   Alex seemed to be one of her favorites, as she praised him regularly each week.  One Entertainment Weekly reporter wrote that Ellen was left speechless exiting last night's show.

Alex Lambert crying is going to be one of the memorable events on the show.  It was unscripted, broke the mold, and showed unguarded emotion.  From Alex.  Krystal.  Lily.  And Siobhan. 

That's not bad for TV, not bad at all.

That the outcry of Idol fans has been so large proves that Lambert actually was an audience favorite - despite not collecting enough votes to remain on the show.  That Lambert immediately spiraled into sadness and remained there for many minutes compounds the difficulty of this judge and audience favorite's early departure from the show.  Even though he looked like a big sissy, his emotional reaction is overshadowed by the surprise element of the talent upset. 

Clearly, Lilly Scott’s peers and fans do not watch American Idol or else she’d have been carried through.   Krystal’s peers do not watch either, largely, but she is getting votes - as one of the few with raw talent, she should be getting votes.

All Alex Lambert has to do now is to prove that he is not a loser.  He’ll not be touring, having fun and making money with his Idol friends.  Hopefully, he’ll be doing something much cooler.
Fortunately, American Idol isn’t about making it to the end, anymore.   I think it is about exposure - establishing a fan base by way of competing.   Look at Chris Daughtry and Jennifer Hudson.   They were not deemed winners, but have two of the most illustrious careers of all Idol contestants.

Of the remaining contestants, very few have Lily's individuality, eccentricity, marvelous style, and ability to carry an obscure or forgotten song.  Very few have Todrick's brightness, vocal range and phenomenal dancing talent.  The younger pageant-worthy contestants simply will not be able to fake Lambert's soul and sincerity.  Sincerity cannot be faked; it is the one thing which cannot be, sincerity.

I’ll see this season out rooting for Didi, Siobhan, Lee and Michael.  After that, I don’t know.  I’m starting to hope that I’ll be doing something much cooler next year, too.