Bret and Jemaine, I Hardly Knew Ye

Just call me Mary.

As in, quite contrary. Because generally, if people like something? Hype it, ad nauseum? I will decide, sight unseen, that I don’t like it.

Remember that charming little indie movie you all went ga ga for, the one about the ship, and the necklace and blah blah blah?

Never saw it.  Never will.

That’s just how I work.

So when I started hearing rumblings about a show called “Flight of the Conchords“, I assumed the position.  Ignored the good reviews.  Tuned out the cool kids talking about it on the internet.  Plumb ignored the quirky commercials and trailers I saw.  Refused to make room for it in my already ridiculously crowded TV schedule.

But then, one Sunday night…..

there was nothing on.  Repeats as far as the listings would stretch.  And so I watched it.

And was hooked.  Adjectives fail its general awesomeness.  I’m not even gonna try.  I’ll show you a clip.  Without the context of the entire episode, it might not translate.  But whatever:

I wouldn’t even finish the episode sometimes, before I’d be on YouTube, searching for clips of what I’d just seen.  Then waiting for HBO to replay the episode 2 hours later.

I’ve been waiting for the new season to start.

And I found out today, that it won’t.

Generally, in a TV relationship, I’m the one that does the leaving.  A show will bore me (:cough, cough, Heroes:), and I’ll drift off, quietly.  Or a network will get antsy and make the decision for me.

It’s never been the show that quit me first.

I’ve been dumped.  I don’t quite know how to handle it.  I’ll try to handle myself with some dignity.

Or not.

BRETT AND JEMAINE, DON’T GO!!!  I’M NOT READY!!!  DON’T MAKE ME CRY THE UGLY CRY!!!  FOR CHRIST’S SAKES, I ONLY JUST FIGURED OUT THERE’S NO “R” IN JEMAINE!!!

Hot New Trends! Fall 2009 Edition!

1. Wheelchairs!

 

Those old-school pieces of fabulousness are everywhere right now, and waiting to roll their rubber-wheeled way into our hearts!  From the unabashedly geeky Kevin McHale on “Glee”

 

(image from here)

to the King of Cringe, Larry David on ” Curb Your Enthusiasm”

 

(image from here)

(who on tonight’s episode, dated not one, but two wheelchair drivin’ chicks, and in lieu of learning their real names, dubbed them Wendy Wheelchair and Denise Handicapped), wheelchairs will NOT be ignored!

 

2.  The Head Nod!

 

Thanks to that fab new pandemic, H1N1 (see: Hot New Trends, Winter 2008 Edition), shaking hands is now all but verboten.  The two cheek kiss, a marker of a bygone era.  So what nicety stands between our civility and reverting to living in trees, flinging our own feces?  The Head Nod! 

(image from here)

It’s the gesture that says, “Hey!  You, there!  I acknowledge your presence, and I think you’re super, but I don’t want to actually touch you, because you sort of look like a carrier!”

 

3.  Apps!

 

How did we live without apps?  They’ve embedded themselves into our lives so seamlessly, we’ve all forgotten what the non-word “apps” is short for, and we don’t even care! 

(image from here)

And they’re not just for your iPhone, anymore!  Google, Twitter & Facebook have ’em, your printer has apps, your car’s dashboard probably has some apps. 

 (I looked in my purse, to see if there were any apps there.  Sadly, the search turned up a piece of fruit leather, ca. 2002, and a Biore nose strip.  {If I may go tangential, do they even make those things anymore?}  But no apps.  Maybe next year.)

 

4.  Exclamation Points!

 

(image from here)

Because there is NO faster way to make someone feel like you are immediate best friends than the use of an exclamation point!

For example, let’s say you read this in an email:

“I really love what you wore to the party.”  And you’re like, “Is that bitch being sarcastic!  That no-fashion-sense piece of trash dares to call me out…”

But if you read this:

“I really love what you wore to the party!”  You’re all “Oh!  Sometimes I forget how much I love Grandma!”

Plus?  There’s no quicker way to make a person buy into your excitement!  (It worked on you, didn’t it?)

 

5.  Mom Jeans!

 

They were due for a comeback!  Because more than enough time has gone by since the crew from West Beverly

(image from here)

beamed into our living rooms every Thursday night, in all their high-waisted glory, for this style to make a COMEBACK!!!

 

(OK, you caught me.  I wanted this one to sneak through.  Because I really, really need this trend to come around.  You see, it’s winter here.  Early.  And I got so sick of bending over, in jeans with waist-lines designed for Teens Who Make Poor Fashion Choices, and feeling the cool, cool air caressing my lower torso/upper ass, that I succumbed.  And bought a pair of Mom Jeans.  Their waist?  Sits at my waist.  And I LOVE them.  I’m never going back.  So follow me or not.  Whatever.  At least elementary school children will no longer be scarred by the sight of me, in a short jacket, bending over to zip up winter boots.  So I think I’ve made the world a slightly better place, don’t you?)

RIP, Bea

When I was a kid,

the “Golden Girls” came on after school.  Weekdays at 5:30 on CBC, one of the two channels we could get in the middle of nowhere.

 

Four senior citizens living in Miami.  What, exactly, did an eleven year old girl on the Canadian prairie have in common with them?

 

Sweet bugger all.

 

But I loved them, and I watched, religiously.

 

My favorite?  Bea Arthur.

 

In a way that defied words, I just “got” her. 

 

Finally, while reading about her passing this morning, I found a quote that explained what I’d been feeling about her:

 

“Look – I’m 5 feet 9, I have a deep voice and I have a way with a line.  What can I do about it?”

 

The eleven year old me didn’t get it, but the thirtysomething me does.  It is what it is what it is.  Instead of knocking myself out to be the “hot” one, or the “nice” one, at a certain point, I figured out where I fit in – I’m a Dorothy.

 

RIP, Bea.

 

To Tell the Truth…

So I’m procrastinating the crap out of my evening, not doing laundry, not cleaning up in anticipation of my mother-in-law’s impending visit, and I’m watching a little TV.

 

I’m watching “Medium”,

doing the usual:  wondering how Patricia Arquette is so damned cute, despite that weird, cross-eyed, snaggle-toothed thing she’s got going on, and trying not to be insanely covetous of her character’s perfect husband, Joe.

 

Tonight’s outing involved Patricia’s psychic character, Alison, becoming a “human lie detector”.  She hears a loud, game-show buzz in her head, every time someone lies to her.

 

Annoying as shit as a plot device.  But interesting, nonetheless.

 

If you could, would you?

 

Would you want to know, with 100 % certainty, every single time, whether or not you were being lied to?  Would you need to make a distinction between the big lies, and the little ones?

 

Would anyone want to hang out with you, once they figured out you had this ability?

 

Is your bullshit tolerance as high as you think it is?

Pssst. Wanna Buy a Magnet?

Some people can sing.

 

Some people can dance.

 

Others write great novels.

 

My special talent?

 

Finding awesome refrigerator magnets.

 

Found this little baby in a gift shop in Canmore:

 

Got this when The Museum Company went out of business:

 

Gave Owen this one, in his Christmas stocking:

 

But as of today, I’m going to have to start nurturing another talent.  Because the magnets gotta go.

 

See, when you’re single, you can put whatever the hell you want on your fridge.  Naked pictures of the guy who passed out at your last party?  Okie-dokie!  And then when you have kids, you have to take away the nasty visuals, but you can still get away with a ribald saying or two on a fridge magnet.

 

But eventually, for better or worse, your kids learn how to read.

 

While I was making supper tonight, the kids were playing together.  Without fighting.  So I wasn’t paying much attention.  Until the boy picked his little sister up off the ground.

 

“Put her down!  She weighs 3/4 of what you do, you’re gonna drop her!”

“Ok, ok.”

He trudges toward the couch, gently sets his sister upon it.

Then, in his best Isaac Hayes, he croons:

“Gonna lay you down by the fire.”

 

Gee, I wonder where he could have gotten that?

 

At least he didn’t use the first part.

 

So, if you see a collection of random fridge magnets on eBay, you’ll know what’s up.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to run to the dollar store for some non-stimulating magnets.  Something beige and shapeless.  With no words.