Gnumoon's Stuff

My super-sweet 16 and internet idiocy

I thought my basketball shooting season had ended with the 'Neers' loss in the 'les, but apparently not. I'm heading down tomorrow to shoot a little-known tournament game that is too insignificant to even
really mention. I'm sure none of you will be tuned in (if you are, look for me on Washington State's side ... I'm there to shoot the UPSET, BABY!) I asked for a shot list and was told "The big white guy." Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

I am mostly hoping that someone takes out Hansbrough again and I am the only shooter on that side and that my shots of the kerfuffle end up in all the major news outlets. Probably won't happen, but I'll be there just in case.

This next bit is completely un-basketball-related. Consider this photo of Pooks in the bath your segue. I love this shot - it's good from a photography standpoint AND a mommy standpoint. (I'll discuss my weekend with the FONG diffuser later.)

Since I was first pregnant oh so long ago, I have frequented an online message board for mothers, expectant mothers, women who are hoping to be mothers, and all other interested parties.

I was able to overlook the proliferation of ridiculous acronyms (TTC = trying to conceive, DH = Dear Husband, LO = Little one, AF = Aunt Flo (that's yer period)) and I've been fairly successful at keeping my cynical nature hidden, since most of the women are fairly nice and going through the same things that I am. (The groups are arranged by your child's birth date, so you are in a group with women whose pregnancies progress at the same time as yours. Rocket science, yes?)

In the past months I've become less active in the group and have morphed into more of an observer. The women who I consider to be like me are more "lurkers" due to time constraints, while the ones who seem to have nothing better to do than bitch about things on a message board (and make blinking scrolling shiny signatures that seem to belong more on MySpace) are the big posters. They have a million bits of badly-worded and horribly-spelled advice about parenting and about why their way is much much better than yours, but I don't see how they have time to DO any actual parenting, since they are constantly posting shit on the internet.

I think it's time to leave the group, and I've been feeling this coming on for some time now. One girl (woman, technically, although I think she's 18ish and her maturity level is even lower than that) called me negligent for putting my baby in daycare "where everyone knows that babies are rutinely (sic) hurt".
I held my tongue about the reason she is afforded the luxury of being a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom), which is that my tax dollars pay for her to sit on her lazy ass and play on the internet all day. (This same girl once made the brilliant statement that formula feeding was better because hers was WIC so it was free and she wouldn't have to mess up her "perfect tits".)

Tonight's example of "reasons I should leave before I go up to the virtual belltower" was during an innocent conversation about how it seemed that the breastfed babies in the group seem to be hitting some developmental milestones a little bit slower (crawling, walking, etc.) and some faster (talking). It was benign enough until someone freaked out because we were "obviously" insinuating that she had stuck a bottle in her baby's mouth at 2 days old and plopped the kid on the ground to fend for herself. I didn't point out how paranoid and guilty her knee-jerk reaction of a post sounded. The fact is that this group of women are more interested in tearing each other down than sharing tips and stories, and I don't have time or energy for that.

I wish there was a more targeted mommy group for people like me. I'm not interested in blinking "siggies" or fighting about elective C-sections or posting "piccies" of who has the hottest DH (or SO). I want a PBS mommy board to float on in the neverending seas of Fox. Not because I'm a snob, but because I have a brain that I prefer to use, and I would love to find like-minded mothers. They MUST exist somewhere.

TV-watching is a dirty job

A few posts back I mentioned that I'm not a big TV watcher. This is true, but I'm not one of those militant anti-TVists - I just haven't found much on that's worth watching. Yes, I've seen episodes of the hot shows of the day, I'm just not impressed enough to pencil them in on my calendar every week.

That said, there are a few shows that I will always plop down and watch. Nip/Tuck gets the nod, because it's a dependable trainwreck from week to week, and the new L.A. storylines are amusing, plus watching Christian circling the drain is more fun than watching it happen to Shaun.
The other shows that I watch are perfect for me: non-linear storylines, repeated with no rhyme or reason, "educational" (so I can pretend that it's NOT rotting my brain), and include explosions and/or poo. These are Mythbusters and Dirty Jobs.

Now, I've talked before about my love of Mythbusters, and how my favorite thing about the show is that if something doesn't "work", they just blow the hell out of it. That's good TV. I watch it even though I'm annoyed by the screen time given to Kari lately - OK, we get it, she's why the nerds tune in (that, and the explosions). But she KNOWS it. She's a gold bikini of the highest order. When you're a chick and show up at DragonCon, and you're on a predominantly "geek" show, you've been invited there so that the target audience will pay $10 for your autograph on an 8x10 glossy that they will then take home and masturbate to (hell, they may not make it home- there may be nerds whacking in the Atlanta Convention center bathrooms). As long as you're cool with that, fine. But it's taking screentime away from Adam and Jamie, who are the Mythbusters glue.
And for my "Ladies of Mythbusters" viewing enjoyment, I'd rather watch Scottie. Because she's vaguely scary, and could kick anyone on that show's ass. Especially poor Buster.

But my newer Discovery Channel show love is Dirty Jobs, because it's completely disgusting while still being almost reverent about the people profiled. Mike* toes that line perfectly - he's self-deprecating without being snide to those who do the jobs for a living before and after the cameras are gone. I respect that. Plus, the DC has found the perfect mix for a show: something that men will watch (for the disgustingness) and women will watch (because, despite being oft-covered in feces, Rowe is undeniably charismatic and hot in a "non-cancerfest Marlboro man" kind of way).

I'd been watching the show on and off for the past few seasons, but the episode last night pushed it over into the "favorites" category (yeah, I sit at home and watch TV on Friday nights, so what? I have a 5 month old, my week was hellishly busy, and I have to shoot all weekend. Like you're so much cooler with your "friends" and "partying"?).
The episode included a bit on soapmaking (yet sadly, no Fight Club references), and one of the participants was a little girl who was obviously nervous about the cameras and also had a painfully obvious preteen crush on Mike. These factors combined to make her seem standoffish and rude on camera. Mike played it perfectly- he flirted with her mercilessly, eventually bringing out her personality and expertise in the field of soapmaking (which, besides the goatmilking and lye, isn't really all that dirty). It was cute and touching, which added a new dimension to a show that generally features world-weary blue-collar workers standing around laughing as Mr. TV Host gets covered in bat guano or cow semen.

* I also like the show because I feel like calling the host by his first name, and he seems like a guy you could sit around and drink beer with, followed by a belching contest.
I would invite Adam and Jamie from Mythbusters as well. No, this is not a fantasy of mine. If it is, I have about the lamest sexual imagination in existence.

ps- As I was Googling around for images for this post, Google suggested that "Mike Rowe shirtless" was a common search. So my "hot but gross" theory proves true. Yay me.

Simile of the day: "...Like throwing a hot dog down a hallway"

Apparently there is a reality game show in the works called “Virgin Territory” where a male (the casting call is for an 18-34 y.o.) who has never had sex will get to make the beast with two backs with either amateur skankbag Paris Hilton or professional skankbag Jenna Jameson.
Amazing- a program where the Grand Prize is, in the best-case scenario, an utter loss of dignity and a scorching case of herpes. Must be a Fox show, sponsored by Valtrex and Rid.

Umm, what? This is mind-boggling on so many levels...
1. Isn’t this concept basically the same as prostitution? Is it even legal?
2. Is this what the world has come to- this is considered entertainment?
3. There are men left in the world who would voluntarily have relations with Paris Hilton or Jenna Jameson? That should be the death penalty for Bin Laden, only he'd have to sleep with both of them.

My theory is that reality TV, Thomas Kincaid, and our celebrity-worshipping culture are pulling this nation closer and closer to the edge of the abyss, and this show may well shove it over. Just as a meteor in the Yucatan destroyed the dinosaurs, decay and financial ruin caused the fall of Rome, and replacing Fox Mulder with the T-1000 caused the extinction of the X-Files, so could this show spell the loss of western civilization as we know it.

The next step in the reality-TV craze is probably deadly animals vs. people, and then the crazy train pulls into the station the only place it can end up- on the set of The Running Man.

ps- Jenna Jameson is a cautionary tale. Comparing a photo of her in 1995 and today is astounding. The sun damage and plastic surgery (and maybe drugs- she looks really thin) have added years to her- she looks like some type of siliconized orange reptile. Or maybe it's the years in the porn industry that have aged her.

Hey girl, i got somethin' real important to give ya

Christmas season chugs on here in TN- last night we went to Candlelight Christmas at Biltmore, and we did the dinner-and-gifts-thing tonight at dad's house. To the right is a shot of brother Grf and Bert the greatest JRT in the world. (Note: Grf doesn't have a rat-tail, that's a houseplant in the background. I was too lazy to photoshop it out. I'm on vacation here, people.)
Tomorrow I plan to make mad amounts of cookies and goodies, and day after that DJ (finally) returns from his trip to Puerto Rico! yay!

Now on to something randomer:
I often long for the days when Saturday Night Live was funny. When the sheer idiocy of a Massive Headwound Harry skit or a top-10 List from Wayne and Garth could make you LOL. Of course, those great bits are so far in the past that the term "LOL" didn't even exist. In the past 3 seasons, there had only been one bit that made me laugh and quote, and that of course was the "Chronic-WHAT-cles of Narnia" Lazy Sunday digital short. ("Mr. Pibb and red vines = crazy delicious!")

I've been so disappointed in the show that I haven't watched it live in years, instead relying on the internet to bring me highlights, and this week one arrived. I know it's old news, but this is a bona-fide old-school laugh-out-loud SNL skit: repetitive, ridiculous, and offensive. (OK, for some reason the embedding won't work, so here's the direct link to YouTube.)

My superhero alter-ego still looks like me, but with thinner thighs.

TomC informed us a bit ago about this new "Who Wants to Be a Superhero" show on Sci-Fi (hosted by Stan Lee). I checked it out tonight and it is without a doubt the cheesiest, most drawn-out, most far-reaching reality show I have ever seen. I'm completely hooked on it.

And to answer the question... why, I want to be a superhero, of course. I have always wanted to be a superhero (or villain. Mostly it's just the "super-" part that is important), but sadly I have never been exposed to the right kind of radiation, suffered a freak (and/or uncanny) mutation, discovered alien parentage, or been bitten by an animal whose venom had transmogrifying side effects. Alas, I have no origin story, no cool weapons, and no jet, invisible or otherwise. At this point, it's likely I will never have my own action figure. But I have considered superhero-ness carefully.

About seven years ago, Otis and I were discussing superheroes and sculpting our alter-egos. I was to be Adobe, a badass hottie who could change people's perceptions of how things look. (This power is based on my addiction to Photoshop/Illustrator/InDesign/Adobe products) When called upon, Otis would become Sarcasmo, a foxy babe who could throw off her enemies with biting sarcasm and wit, and then best them while they were stunned.

My brother, who was in high school at the time, took our silly storyline and made a one-sheet for the Appalachian Avengers:

The Avenger team also included our friend Boegs, whose superhero name was "Smoke," and his write-up says "can fire jets of 2nd hand smoke and transform his body into a cloud of Winston smoke." His trusty K5 Chevy Blazer was the inspiration for the Avengermobile, pictured above.
The team was completed by D., and her hero name was "The Fin." Our competitive swimmer friend, her power was that she had retractable fins that would pop out and enable her to swim at incredible speeds.

But, just like with most great comics, the villains were the best part. They were all based on people who had wronged us in some way...

"Stevil," based a guy I dated briefly, was the leader of the baddies, and his lengthy chest hair could extend for miles out of his body to snag opponents. (years later, his furriness is pretty much all any of us remember about the guy)
"Marie," based on a terrible ex-roommate named "Marie," could gain super-strength by drinking Coors light. It was a Popeye-like transformation. (It was an actual power. We saw her do it several times)
Jay, aka "Neophaedrus," was based on an old flame of Sarcasmo's. He could fire concussive energy blasts from his palms, a power called the "Jay Ray."
And last but not least there was an ex of mine, "Phildo." Phildo's (admittedly shitty) power was the ability to hit tennis balls very hard. We included him mostly because of the clever moniker.

That was seven years ago? I think it's time for an update...stay tuned.

ps- My bros have been drawing comics since they could pick up crayolas, and the I-man is currently taking a comic-drawing class where he is working on an intriguing story about a cryptozoologist. And not that I am in any way biased, but his drawings and story are very solid.

Artex, you're sinking some sweet moves!

Sheesh, I love Robot Chicken.

Currently Listening to: And She Was, by Talking Heads

Cute Widdle Bears Shit in the Woods Too

So I have to blog about pop culture if I want anyone to come to my site. Since I posted that “Darius loves a nice caboose” thing the other day I have had over eleventy billion hits from 7 different countries. You guys only love me if I talk about stuff that you love to hate. So I’m going to talk about something I HATE. And it belongs in this same category because it is a commercial as well.

We all know that bears shit in the woods. I loathe the commercials with the cutesy-wootsy cuddly bears that have a roll of Charmin hanging on a tree branch so they can wipe their widdle bitty bottoms when they’re done (shitting in the woods, that is). These cartoons are so sickeningly cutesy they make Precious Moments characters look like extras from Akira.  

 I understand that the ad geniuses ™ are targeting the much-sought-after “mommy mommy” demographic. If motherhood makes you moronic enough to think these ads are catchy, then I would welcome barren loins. Did no one stop to consider that if these bears’ diets didn’t include grubs, bark, and the rotting flesh and bones of Bambi and his family they wouldn’t have such a need for super-soft asswipe. That sinew can’t digest well. Shall we examine the lyrics?

Hey little fella, gotta change your touch.
What you thought was enough
Might be too much
See, it’s more cushiony than ever before
With Charmin Ultra, less is more
When we say less is more, less is more
It’s more absorbent
Than the regular rippled brand for sure
What you used to love,
Now you’re going to adore
With Charmin Ultra- less is more
Cha Cha Cha … Charmin

This little sing-along is accompanied by the backside of a bear sitting down behind a tree, presumable to plant a nice big steamer. The song leads us to believe that she has, in the past, been using a large amount of toilet tissue to make sure that no leftover bits of dung got matted in her rump fur where they clumped up and attracted flies. Happily, though, she can now be clingon-free with less paper! Hmmm, that IS cute!

(NOTE: the bears in the above ad lack even the hint of an anus,  so I don't think they are good spokesbears for toilet paper)

Currently Listening to:  Gravity Rides Everything, by Modest Mouse (Mice probably shit in the woods as well, but these are too modest to sell out in an advert)
Scrabble WOTD:  n. pl. FECULA -LAE   fecal