Monday, August 31, 2009

Firetrucks, Firetrucks, Firetrucks!

This was the scene in front of my house this evening:

Have the California wildfires spread to North Wales? Were ninety kittens stuck in the trees in my front yard? Was it the National Firetruck Festival?

I walked up to the end of the firetruck assembly to find another of people rallied around the firehouse:

Yes, that is a circle of bagpipe blowers and drum bangers, who were performing song after song of Scottish wonder, surrounded by police, council members, and, seemingly, everyone in the borough. As I joined the crowd, wearing no shoes and eating my dinner out of a square bowl in public (much to Kurt's dismay), I learned (from Kurt) that this entire hullaballo was...get dedicate a new firetruck! Wooohooooo!

Are you serious? There was more pomp for this new truck than there was for the July 4th parade this summer. Apparently, this new truck wanted to have a play date with all the other trucks in the county, because every fire copmany for miles was represented. Wow. Who knew our new little firetruck had so much sway in the community? I think the message is clear: my fire truck is more popular than yours.

Oh, and one last question: why was this event Scottish themed? Is my town secretly Scottish? I know we were founded a couple of hundred years ago, and our name is North Wales, and Wales is in the UK with Scotland, but are bagpipes also Welsh?! I dunno. I guess my firetruck requested bagpipes for its coming out party and, by now, we all know - my firetruck gets what it wants.

Happy Birthday, North Wales Firetruck! Now I know why the guys were powerwashing the firehouse sidewalks this morning.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Swedish Fish Water Ice

Rita's is currently selling Swedish Fish flavorerd water ice and this is what I think...

A few weeks ago, I took my residents to Rita's to get water ice for our scenic bus trip. Along with my 13 cups of cherry water ice came 13 miniature bags of Swedish Fish, advertising the limited edition flavor that was soon to come the following Saturday. Since that day, I had been dying for Swedish Fish water ice but, every time I planned to go to Rita's, something else came up.

About 3 weeks later (two days ago), I finally had the chance to go to Rita's. Admittedly, I had just eaten three soft pretzels and a significantly sized hot lunch, so I was not exactly hungry; Kurtis, however, was, so we ended up at Rita's. I was full, but secretly excited.

I waited in the blisteringly hot car, refusing to turn on the air conditioner and waste the overpriced gas. I sat, melting in the heat, for 7 or 8 hours before Kurt finally returned with my oh-so-long-awaited, kids' sized, Swedish Fish water ice. Fine, it was probably more like 7 or 8 minutes, but it was really, really hot, and heat makes time crawl.

I am going to skip the build-up and jump straight to the bottom line of my review: EW.

To be honest, I think it may have been the fault of the Rita's employee who may not have pumped the buckets frequently enough (yes, Rita's people call it "pumping"), but I felt like I was eating spoonfuls of sappy, sugar-syrup with the occasional chunk of ice. Disgust.

Now, listen: I am the biggest fan of overly sweet sweetness, but this syrupy sugar soup was not in the least bit welcome after my time in the I do have one compliment for the flavor for which I had such high hopes: it tasted exactly like Swedish Fish...only, melted in Death Valley, mixed with sugar crystals, and turned to sap.

Dear Rita's,

I once was devastated to hear that Swedish Fish was going to be a limited-time-only flavor. I now am relieved.



Thursday, August 6, 2009


I had a staring contest with an owl tonight and this is what I think...

I think owls are awesome. They are fierce creatures with sharp features and mad hunting skills. For these same reasons, I also think owls are a little bit scary! Tonight, after our screening of Julie & Julia, I was driving home from Kurt's parents' house when I spotted something tiny on the road. I stopped suddenly and saw what had appeared, at first, to be a bird or small rodent, but never moved no matter how close my car got to it. As I waited just a few feet from the object, I finally decided it must be a toy. Since, at this point, I was too close to see it any longer, I backed up my car so I coudl decide exactly where it was before I drove over it, planning to cause the least possible damage to my car. When I backed up, it moved! Its head turned toward my car, and I entered my staring match with an eastern screech owl!

I am sure, by looking at this image, you can understand why I thought I may have been looking at a toy. Not only is it so cartoonish in nature (hello eyes!), but it was staring off into the distance, never flinching as my car came within feet of its tiny little existence! When it finally did look at me, I was overcome with a mixed sensation of excitement and woe. Part gremlin, part bird, the owl was not even slightly afraid of my car, and when its giant eyes were staring me down, I was a bit taken back by this ten inch creature.

All in all, it was a pretty sweet experience. I never saw an owl in the wild before, and I do not imagine one will ever stop my car again. And Kurt was driving in the car behind me, while I was on the phone with him, so I sort of shared the experience with him and he got to see it when it finally succumbed to me in our staring match and flew away.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

July 4th

Yesterday was the 4th of July and this is what I think...

We started the day be sleeping late...the way every good holiday should be enjoyed but few actually are. We did not do it on purpose, but we were glad it happened. 15 minutes after we got out of bed, a parade went down Main Street. I watched it from my lviing room windows. Naked. Best parade outfit I ever wore. I remember when I was in the opening number for the Welcome America July 4th parade in Philadelphia one blazing hot summer, sweating (and basically dying) underneath heavy, hot parade-wear, "singing" and dancing on the burning black pavement of the Ben Franklin Boulevard. Wearing underwear in my living room was so much more comfortable than that.

Because it was a Saturday, we, of course, had to cover evens for Kurt's Pennington paper. Since few things ever happen in the quaint borough of Pennington, New Jersey, we attended an event across the river, in our own state, at Washington Crossing Park in Pennsylvania.

There we saw and photographed many actors in Revolutionary War costumes, listened to some old time music, toured some old time houses, and picnicked on the grassy bank of the Delaware River.

Kurt made two delicious salads: a garden salad filled with summer veggies and chicken, and a fruit salad soaked in his secret ingredient. We brought them in our little cooler, along with apple juice and a Snickers bar, and enjoyed them next to the cannon that was being blasted into the river. The explosion was super loud, and surprisingly frequent; my favorite part was the echo as the sound bounced back to us from New Jersey. I pretended the British were fighting back. A couple of holiday revelers lazied down the river on tubes, causing the reenactors much grief as they waited impatiently to fire the cannon in their direction. Eventually, George Washington's men finally shooed them away, only to be delayed again by a speed boat zipping by. Something I am sure the real soldiers also found very annoying as they attempted to cross the river in their canoe-like vessels those 235ish years ago.

From our picnic lunch, we headed to Pennington to take pictures of flags in the borough and get the scoop on the towns famous gelato shop. Hah - get it? The scoop...on gelato... Ya. They were surprisingly open, but the owners was unavailable. Oh well. I checked out a second hand shop in search of a silver trumpet vase for my dining room table but came up empty handed. No biggie.

Hungry, we headed to Princeton to find something to eat. Though we had a delicious, picnic lunch, I was in need of some sort of bread product. Cruel, I know, considering Kurt is allergic to gluten. Hey, I have cut back drastically on my gluten intake in the past year, but when I need a bread product, I think I deserve to have one!

Parking was free on Nassau Street because it was a meter holiday (please do not ask Kurt what a meter holiday is), and there were many fewer people bombarding the street than usual, but still a healthy enough crowd to make it an enjoyable walk. Though we like to eat at fun restaurants and try new places often, I spied a Panera Bread and instantly knew I wanted soup in a sour dough bread bowl. I took my Celiac man to the bread restaurant and there we had a quick dinner. I had summer corn chowder in the bread bowl with "limes with orange" Jones drink, and he had the same soup (no bread bowl!) with a greek salad and iced green tea. It had been about two years since I had been in a Panera and, though I am no dan of chains, it was enjoyable.

From there, we walked around Nassau Street and Palmer Square for a few minutes to walk off the meal before heading to our final destination of the evening. Kurt found a mewspaper/magazine kiosk and stopped without warning, so I found myself walking alone. I turned back to see him peering through the glass at the cover of W magazine, stopped to wait for him, then turned back again to find my senior-year-of-college-roommate, Tommy, standing next to me! Like Panera, I think it has been about two years since I last saw him, so it was a swell surprise. I met his boyfriend, he met mine, and then we parted ways since we had to hie ourselves to Rider College for their concert and fireworks.

At Rider, while Kurt worked the crowd, taking pictures and names, I sprawled myself out on our blanket and restarted reading Queen of Fashion: What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution. I suppose I was not reading about the most appropriate revolution on the 4th of July. Oh well. The fireworks were very lengthy, very impressive, and very close. Inordinate amounts of debris landed on us as we gazed upward, and one piece landed in Kurt's eye. It came out pretty quickly. Some of the pieces were huge! I had never experienced that before, not because I had never been so close, but because the wind had never been so directly aimed at me before. It was an interesting experience. Fireworks are my favorite of man's inventions, so I was delighted to catch a show this year. Getting out of the parking lot took longer than the show. Ew. It amazes me that humans can choreograph such elaborate situations as dance routines, fireworks displays, highway systems, and ceremonies, but we still have not managed to choreograph vehicles at large events. There must be a way.

As usual, we had a long Saturday filled with several events to cover and no time in our home, but the days events were all festive and very enjoyable. Yay! We got home late, played with Chase and his new toy, then crashed in bed.

Happy 233rd birthday, USA!

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Stoned Wallabies

I just read the headlines on tonight and this is what I think...

Hahahahhaha! I think I may have just read the funniest headline of my life. It is not that there were any typos, inuendos, or hilarious coincidences that may have turned up on The Tonight Show; the headline itself is just so surprising.

"Stoned Wallabies Make Crop Circles"


Number one: stoned wallabies? Reuters is a respected newsource provding international news on a daily basis and it used the word "stoned?!" And in relation to wallabies?! If you are like me, your only connection to a wallaby is Nickelodeon's former (and fantastic) show Rocko's Modern Life, starring Rocko the wallaby. While it would not be too much of a stetch for me to imagine Rocko stoned, it proves somewhat more difficult for me to imagine a real wallaby smoking up...(or at all...sorry Australia, but your mammals are so unique that they only appear in cartoons and the occasional zoo here in the States).

Number two: wallabies make crop circles??? Is this not something that alien conspirators have been promoting since England began pumping out these mysteries? I have read my share of information related to crop circles (while reading "2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl") and it seems that they are extraordinarily elaborate situations that would be difficult for even the most intellgient of stoned humans to create. Apparently this is not as difficult for the wallaby. Currently, I believe that the general public finds chimpanzees to be closest to humans in mental capability, followed by the dolphin, which shares many similarities with our own species, and some have even made the case that pigs are exceptionally brilliant creatures. Apparently everyone is wrong, for the wallaby is capable of creating a phenomenon so complex that it had formerly been attributed to more intellgient, alien life forms.

Number three: why? I suppose the question is not why they are getting stoned, but why are they creating crop circles?! Are they sitting around in their little wallaby homes laughing at the humans who are making alien conspiracy claims? Do they giggle when planes go by, taking pictures of their work and publishing them in books as proof of life on other planets? Are they also responsible for all of those human abductions and probing experiments? Did they kidnap Elvis? Did they build Stonehenge? Are wallabies the answer to all of life's mysteries?!

The truth of the matter is not nearly this fantastic, but the headline sure led me to think all of those things for that millisecond between reading the headline and clicking on the link...

I suggest you also click it to find out exactly why wallabies are getting stoned and creating art...

Stoned Wallabies!

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Mirusia Louwerse

To escape all of the obsession over Michael Jackson's death, I went to youtube to listen to any rendition of my favoite creepy piece of beautiful music, Oh Fortuna, when I stumbled across Mirusia Louwerse, and this is what I think...

WHAT! Where did this incredible genius of voice come from???
The answer is Australia and, apparently, she is very famous down there...and no wonder! Thanks to Andre Rieu (pictured with the violin) she tours the world singing girls' and gays' favorite songs to the incredible backdrops of Andre Rieu's ridiculously theatric and exquisite orchestra and chorus.

On top of her fantastic voice, she has long curly golden hair, always wears a knockout dress and a huge, sparkling necklace that looks like it was robbed from the collection of Crown Jewels in England. Oh, and she is only a year older than I!
I admit, the picture I posted here is not exactly stunning, but there are, remarkably, no very good pictures of her on the internet...only yucky posed album-coverish pictures that I kind of hate. While searching for a better picture, I went to her website where I found a minimal amount of pictures, some media information, and a list of recent performances.
Guess where her most recent performance was....Philadelphia. What the hell. If I would have known about her two months ago I could have heard her in person. Stupid!

Since I do not trust you to go there yourself and look her up, I present to you a youtube clip of Mirusia Louwerse singing one of my favorite songs ever. Once at youtube, you can watch as many of the others as you want.
Enjoy! (Or else I hate you).

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Spring Awakening in Philly

I went to the opening night performance of Spring Awakening in Philadelphia last night and this is what I think...

I saw the show on Broadway somewhere around 10-15 times. You would think I would keep track of that since I love numbers and statistics so much, but I started going so often that I lost track. I have seen most, if not all, of the actors who played the lead roles, in addition to many of the others. I sat on stage a bizillion times, I went to their performance on Good Morning America, and I spent an obscene amount of money to buy the autographed manuscript when there were only three scripts in the general public, none of the others having the cast autographs that mine had. Therefore, I feel qualified to give my opinions of the tour.

I think it was awesome. I have to admit, it was the first national tour of a Broadway show I ever attended, so I was curious to see how similar it would be to the original. I was tremendously impressed to discover that it was almost identical - bravo! The set, the costumes, and even most of the hair was the same. There were two notable differences, though, and it is on those that I will now focus.

The Acting

The lead male roles were performed by guys that I have seen perform the roles on Broadway several times, and they were still wonderful, of course. The lead female was a Philly local and, while her voice was beautiful, there was nothing overly special about her (thanks to Kurt for pointing that out!). What I really want to say is that most of the kids were excellent, but the two adults were not. The actress playing the adult females was, well...a bad actress. How the hell did she get cast for the national tour? She was high school theater quality...I would not even want to see her in community theater. She played the roles so obviously and so blandly...ew.

Dear Lady,
Thank god you were not in the Broadway cast. You might have ruined it for me a little bit.

The gentleman playing the adult male roles did so in a very different way than did the men on Broadway. This, of course, is not always a bad thing. In this case, though, I think it was. He was so mousey and overly dramatic. He did not seem the staunch Germans that I believe were required for the roles.

Dear Sir,
I did not like you either. Why were you and your lady friend cast? Was it just that all the better adult actors did not want to travel across the country with a cast of kids? Oy.

This show is really about the kids. Thankfully they were great.

The Audience

Unlike on Broadway, where people generally know what they are getting themselves into when they buy tickets for a show, many of the audience members in Philly purchased a package of tickets for the Broadway at the Academy series, completely unaware of Spring Awakening's subject matter. Needless to say, there were shocked reactions during many scenes, much frantic whispering, and some who were so offended that they left. Including the ladies who sat behind me. I think that if you walk out of a show for reasons other than boredom, there is something slightly wrong with you.

Dear Ladies, and others who left the performance,
You are ridiculous. Get an education. Learn about real life and real people.

Overall, the evening was excellent. Our press seats were great, and the woman sitting next to me was fabulous. We became fast friends for the few hours we spent sitting next to each other. She suggested I seek therapy for my SA addiction, but I assured her I was in remission. I was only there because it was free. I truly was not going to spend the money to see it AGAIN. She also stepped on my shoe, and blamed herself for being a "bigger girl," but, when she realizd I was wearing shoes that came to a point, she retracted her apology and let me take the fall! :P I loved her. She wanted to buy the soundtrack, but did not want her 7 year old son to hear it. Who can blame her? Her husband was nice, too.

Incidentally, it had been over a year since I had last been to the Academy (to see the opera Hansel & Gretel with sets by Maurice Sendak) and I forgot how gorgeous it was inside! Wonderful.

If you get a chance, go see Spring Awakening. It plays through the 28th. If you cannot make it, go see something else this summer. It is inexpensive and totally worth it!

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Paris Hilton's My New Bff

I have no idea why MTV was on the television, but Paris Hilton's My New BFF came on, and this is what I think...
The show is utterly ridiculous in every way and I think I love it. 11 girls and 1 boy vying to be Paris's new best friend by taking dares to prove they are in it for Paris and not for must be kidding.
So far, Paris has made the girls (a term she uses to describe all of her potential new bffs, including the boy), put on a show and tell, dance on a stripper pole, and pet a tiger. Whatever. The show itself is totally uninteresting, but the ridiculous things the contestants (and Paris) say are the true "value" of this nonsense.
Presenting, my top three favorite things said on My New BFF so far!
In response to why she hates sorority girls, one brilliant chick noted the age old criticism, "and they PAY for FRIENDS!" as if this were some original revelation about why sorority girls were worthless...really? Really, girl who is competing for Paris Hilton's friendship on a reality tv show? Shut your pie hole.
Paris tested the nerves of the contestants by having them pet a baby tiger, and then, while debating whether to send two of them home for having no personality, sagely noted, "the tiger didn't eat either of you, and that means a lot to me!" Cool, Paris, I totally expected that cat to shred those, I am totally shocked that he was not interested in their dullness either...


The gay guy got too nervous to dance on the stripper pole because the audience was a bunch of drunk hetero guys, so he started to cry and refused to do it. Later, when Paris asked why he should be allowed to stay in the competition to be her BFF, he said "I'm really family dream goal is to have an orphanage...for cats and dogs." Stephen, WHAT? You should be Paris's friend because you like families? And your idea of a family is a cat and a dog? I am not sure you understand the question, and I definitely did not understand your answer.

Okay, okay, okay, I breezed through that little competition of stupid quotes because I really wanted to get to the BEST part of the show by far...


I have to say, this picture really normalizes Onch, the girliest Asian boy who ever did live. This outfit is surprisingly tame, but I chose it because it includes my favorite of his accessories, the headbaby. He was, apparently, a contestant on the first season and, though he somehow did not win, Paris clearly loves him because she brought him back as her sidekick/court jester/pet dog/whatever for this season. THANK YOU PARIS!

Dear Onch,
I would continue to watch this show just to see what you were going to wear, and to watch you flit about the sets so light in your bizarre loafers.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Chase's Shoes

My dog, Chase, is wearing "shoes" for the next three weeks, and this is what I think...

For those of you who do not know, Chase comes to work to see the residents every day. Yesterday, a group of residents, Chase, and I were out for walk and it happened to be quite hot and muggy. When we are out with the residents, Chase loves to show off how fast he can run by hanging back from the group, and then zooming around us when we least expect it. Apparently the tar of the driveway was too hot for his paws, and the pads on both of his front paws cracked. I was unaware of this until a couple of hours later when the receptionist pointed out that he had been laying in a corner licking his feet all afternoon. When I checked them out, I found that he had licked them so much that he had torn off the entire padding!
I needed to stop him from licking the wounds, so I borrowed some socks from our life-like Alzheimer's doll, Tommy. As it happens, Tommy wears a pair of red baby socks that are designed to look like little, red sneakers, and they happened to fit perfectly on Chase. Because he is the world's most perfect dog and does whatever I tell him, he kept them on for the rest of the day (and night). Unfortunately, when he moves too much, they start to slip off.

Chase took a sick day from work today to go to the doctor (with Daddy Kurtis), where he received a painful shot in the back, some ointment to be applied thrice daily, and orders to wear his awesome "shoes"for the next three weeks, around which time he should be mostly healed. The doctor also gave Chase some special tape to hold on his socks without pulling out his leg hairs.

You know what I think? My dog is awesome. His shoes match his collar, he does not try to take them off, and he kind of kicks ass.
This evening, Chase posed for a photo shoot to show off his snazzy new sneaks which he will sporting until July.
You go, dawg.

Ready to chill.

Ready to run.

Ready for his close-up.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

The Hatboro Hat

Kurt and I often drive through Hatboro, PA to get to I-95 and lately I have been noticing what appears to be their mascot. This is what I think...

I went to Muhlenberg College and they chose the Mule as their mascot, so I am qualified to talk about mascots that make no sense. I mean, come on...Muhl does not equal Mule. And, furthermore, who wants to be The Ass?

Driving by Hatboro Horsham High School, I noticed a giant top hat on their sign. Really? Is that the height of the creativity of that town? I figured it could just be a cute little symbol on which an erstwhile school board inanely voted, chortling to themselves about how clever they were so many decades ago. Maybe I could consider that harmless enough. Oh how wrong I was.

Driving past the high school and into the main street of the downtown area, I noticed a realtor's sign. Know what the symbol for Hatboro Realty was? A giant top hat with windows. WHAT! Continuing down the street, there were pretty little banners hanging from lamposts, much the same way there are in most other quaint towns, but Hatboro filled its banners with pictures of....hats. Seriously? Wow.

The sad thing is, while it is certainly no thriving metropolis of art and culture, Hatboro is not the most backwoods podunk town in the area. If it were, I might be impressed by the citizens' ability to recognize that the word "hat" makes the beginning of their town's name. But they are not, so it is not okay.

I live in North Wales. Do we have a whale as our mascot? If we were founded by the same people as Muhlenberg or Hatboro we would.

Before you say that I am being unfair to the citizens because they cannot control what their original governing body was drinking when it elected Hatboro as the name and...a the mascot, let me remind you that cities can certainly elect to change their names. Nearby Blue Bell, as I learned the other night during a rousing round of Huggermugger (the ultimate nerd/word game, and, therefore, fabulous), was once called Chicken Town (or something equally impressive) and they had the sense to change it to something more attractive.

So, Hatboro, I say take your cue from Blue Bell and work out something new. Be careful, though, Mauch Chunk, PA officially changed its name to Jim Thorpe, PA, and that is equally as unfathomable.

Then again, I would rather see an Olympic athlete as the town mascot than a HAT.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

The Real Housewives

I just saw the lost footage episode of The Real Housewives of New York last night, even though TRH of New Jersey already started, and this is what I think...

I actually do not get much of a chance to watch television, and I am none too upset about it, but Kurt and I do have a soft spot for the mindless reality shows of Bravo (Make Me a Super Model, Millionaire Matchmaker, and, of course, The Real Housewives least of New York). Admittedly, Kurt was a fan of the housewives long before I even knew who they were, but I have seen enough episodes to get the overall scoop, and I have some thoughts about these (mostly) fabulous women. Now that the second season has officially come to an end, I think it is clearly time for Real Housewife Olympics, and here are the final standings, in order, starting with the last place finisher...

Kelly Killoren Bensimon

First of all, let me start with the most sophisticated psychoanalysis I will offfer in this article: Kelly is a moron. The ex-model may be pretty with nice hair and cool clothes, but nothing she says makes sense. When she confronts people, and those people respond wth valid points, she comes up with amazing insights like, "stop! just stop! i'm not doing this! no STOP! stop talking! you're ridiculous!" For the record, this is not a direct quote, but I guarantee that all of these words have come out of her mouth during confrontations that SHE started. What a moron. Who raised and educated this woman? A school of fish?

In short, Kelly was a complete ass in every episode that I saw, and I think it is pretty clear that the rest of the world agrees.

Dear Kelly,
You suck.
Brandon (and everyone else)

Alex McCord

Apparently, Kelly was not in the first season (and who thought it was a good idea to invite her to the second?! Obviously someone who no longer has a job). Therefore, my least favorite of the original housewives is this woman (and I use that term loosely), Alex. Alex looks like a man, talks like a man, and goes by a gender-ambiguous name. On top of that, she is married to the gayest man who ever danced across the planet Earth, and I think that, in reality, they are just a gay male couple with one of them posing as a woman so they could get on TRH of NY. Alex, though much more eloquent, is almost as blah as Kelly. She does very little, has a relatively uninteresting personality, and never actually answers any questions. Additionally, she and her flamboyant "husband," Simon, decorated their Brooklyn apartment in the most garish and repulsive way imagineable - one that only clubbing queens would.

Dear Alex,
You are a man and your husband is a woman. Oh, and your kids are the worst behaved mongrels I ever saw on television...including Sally Jesse's wild teens (hey, remember those awesome episodes?! I miss those big red glasses, too...).

LuAnn de Lesseps

LuAnn is a countess, but not even that makes her very interesting. She wrote a book on etiquette, and she does seem to be, generally, a very classy woman, but there seems to be nothing going on in her life...ever. The only people she interacts with on TV are the teenage girls in her family and their friends...people upon whom she tries to bestow her Countessal expertise in matters of decorum. I am as a big a fan of formal rules of etiquette as the next guy (or at least the next guy who also wishes he was a Victorian gentleman or Marie Antoinette when she still had a head...) but, give me a break, Countess, you are boring and your rules are irrelevant.

Dear LuAnn,
I do not really have anything against you, but I do not really have anything for you, either. Oh, and sorry that things did not work out with you and the Count. I think the most important part of your marriage remains clear: you kept your title. Brava.
Baron Brandon...shut up, my title is almost as valid as yours.

Ramona Singer

It was really tough to decide if I liked LuAnn or Ramona more. I almost picked LuAnn because she had a title, but I went for true value in the end...Ramona says whatever she is thinking and she sticks to it. I like that in a girl. Especially a rich, powerful, New York City business girl. You go, Ramona.

Never fear, my bronze medal finisher certainly has her drawbacks. Greatest/worst of all, her eyes constantly exhibit that "headlights in the deer" look. No, I did not mean "deer in the headlights," her eyes ARE the headlights. They are HUGE. I mean enormous, freaking headlights. They are scary. Plastic surgery? Genetic defect? Disaster. But, no worries, she does not claim that beauty is her greatest asset. Just listen to this gem, straight from her own mouth: "My business head? Ten times better than my beauty." You said it, sugar.

Dear Ramona,
You are kind of a space cadet who believes she has a great "business head," but you are mostly just a lot of frou-frou...frou-frou-tutu...tutu-frou-frou-tutu! Hey, once again, you said it...not I.

Jill Zarin

Jill is awesome. She is a Long Island Jew of the greatest variety. She has a sharp wit, she spends money like a champ, her mom is kickass, and she actually makes sense when she opens her mouth. Oh, and her long, bright red hair is awesome, too. You know what else? While many of the housewives had some pretty fab outfits, Jill could always be counted on to wear something unusual, and I applaud that.

Dear Jill,
Please accept my silver medal in the Real Housewife Olympics.


What? I accidentally put her name in caps? Bull. I did it on purpose! Bethenny is the shit. There is nothing empty, shallow, moronic, fake, or boring about her. She claims to be uninteresting and have no friends, but that is CLEARLY not the case. Bethenny's dry sense of humor and complete "realness" make her, by far, the greatest housewife (I would just like to mention that I intend no disrespect to Jill with that remark and, in fact, I think it is noteworthy that Jill and Bethenny are bff). I know Ramona runs her own very serious business, LuAnn nabbed an ancient title and wrote an etiquette book, and Kelly managed to marry famous photographer Gil Bensimon when she was actually important in the world of fashion, but Bethenny is a natural foods chef and New York Times best selling author (currently!). Beat that, other housewives.

Aside from her complete awesomeness, she is gorgeous, has beautiful black hair, has a serious grip on reality, and always, always, ALWAYS looks like a million dollars. In order to be a gold medalist millionaire, you damn well better LOOK like a millionaire, and Bethenny certainly does.

Dear Bethenny,
My name is Brandon, my boyfriend's name is Kurt, and we want to be your new best friends. To steal a line from the turtle in Finding Nemo, you so totally rock! Please accept your gold medal (and our friendship) and, um...wear it (?)...with pride. If TRH of NY is over forever, please get your own show.

Now that TRH of New Jersey has begun, I think there is one very important comparison to make. No matter how I felt about each of them individually, the housewives of NYC sailed the magnificent yacht of class, elgance, and wordly wealth. The housewives of New Jersey, apparently, are desperately bailing out their dinghy of ghetto, and I hope it sinks when the NYC yacht sails by.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey are gross, and I am not watching them. It should have been clear from the commercials, but I subjected myself to their premiere, and I regret it. Vomit. Get them off of my television.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Jon and Kate

Inspired by Jon and Kate, Heidi and Spencer, and Megan Fox (brought to my attention originally by Kurt), I am creating a new segment on Brandon's Theory called "WHO CARES?!"

Jon and Kate had over 9 million people watch their last episode and here is what I think...


You know what? I am not even going to rip into the 9 million of you who tuned in to watch. Someone could certainly make the case you all are goobers for tuning in to find out "who cheated on who and why" in America's favorite large family (especially since the Duggers and their 900 children whose name all start with the same letter seem to have fallen out of the spotlight in the past year or so). Instead, I will agree that it may have been interesting to see what all the fuss was about if I were not busy with other things that actually affected my life.

What I WILL rant about is Kate. She pops out a lot of children, exploits them on camera, and then leaves them all behind with her husband while she goes out on publicity tours touting her her show and her books. If she were beautiful or inspirational I might care, but she is mostly just greedy with really bad hair. Can we just talk about that for a second? Does she think she is edgy? She gets between 50 and 100 thousand dollars PER episode, aside from books and appearances, and she cannot afford a serious hair stylist? Who did that to her? In the immortal words of Lilly Moscovitz in the Princess Diaries, upon seeing her best friend's new coiffe, "Oy. Who destroyed you? You look ridiculous. You should sue!"

Dear Kate,

Sue your stylist.



Now we get to the real point. American tuned in because Jon and Kate's marriage was in trouble and there was some hanky-panky going on with a third part. WHO CARES? How many marriages end in divorce? Most of them. Statistically, legally, undeniably MOST of them. Should we be surprised that theirs is not perfect? Even a priest or nun sometimes divorces the church by going back into the secular world to live an average life. Should we be comparing Kate to a nun? I think not - aside from her husband, she has eight little violations ot sacred vows running around on television. Who cares?

And there was some infidelity in a marriage where a billion offspring the wife is controlling, has bad hair, and is never home. Surprising? Do we even blame him? I mean, i guess he could have just divorced her, but my guess is he wanted to but she would not let him because it would destroy her show and take her out of America's awareness forever. Poor Kate. well I hope she is happy now - she kept him around to keep her fame, but now she is famous for being a heartless piece of crap. With really bad hair. Really bad.

Jon and Kate's marriage is rocky and so many people are up in arms about the sanctity of marriage screaming doom, apocalypse, and "what will become of us all?!?!" Give me a break! They were nothing sacred. Now if Heidi and Spencer had marital problems, I might start to worry.

Dear Jon and Kate,




Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Drag Me to Hell

I went to the screening of Drag Me to Hell tonight, and this is what I think...

I think the movie was amusing and certainly a mix of every horror/comedy film ever made, but there was something even more horrifying/comedic in the theater tonight, and his name was Fat Bastard. Okay, that is probably not his real name, but he was so huge that parts of him overwhelmed three seats.

If he were on an airplane, and he paid for three seats, and he were not too close to me, I might have been somewhat okay with it. Unfortunately, he was another critic's guest, and two of the seats he was "occupying" were already being used by others (one belonged to the friend who brought him and the other belonged to the boyfriend of another unusual character named Heather, who was tagging along while her boyfriend/critic was there to gather material for another "smart but very very very very silly" review). And you know what is worse? This comment may banish me to an even lower level of hell, but I really hate when I see big people eating disgusting, junk foods. You know you do, too. Yeah, I know...some people have medical issues and some people have serious psychological issues...and I really do believe that and empathize. BUT. When your fat is getting in the way of others (like spilling over on top of them) and you add insult to injury by acquiring MORE of it right in front of everyone, then I have a problem with you. Fat Bastard, go home and eat celery until you regain your health.

I am going to play Pollyanna now and find the silver lining. Oh snap, move over, Pollyanna - I found TWO!

Number One (slightly silver): He was well dressed and polite.

Number Two (gleaming): He was supposed to sit next to me but his critic friend wanted to sit with another critic friend of his, so he moved his reservation to the row in front of us!!!! Thank God. Best part of that story: when he changed seats, FB was still out getting the snacks when his critic friend asked Heather if there was room for he and a friend. Maybe he should have confessed that his friend ate an elephant on his way to the theater before he asked her to agree to that.

I think there should be size restrictions on theater seats. And before you yell at me for being heartless and rude, please try to realize that this man was not large, or even fat. He was absolutely enormous. Unhealthy. Scary. Unfair. I am not just ranting about "fat people," I am exasperated by the man who brought new meaning to "extra extra extra extra large." You got it, I just invented that phrase and he already brought new meaning to it.

I think if you are big enough for me to live inside of you, you should respect the people around you and show up early enough to reserve three seats for yourself.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Susan Boyle

Susan Boyle performed in the semi-finals of Britain's Got Talent on Sunday and this is what I think:

I still love Susan. I love her voice, I love her story, I love her awkward look, and I love her choices of songs. Les Miserables and Cats?? Love it. (Oh, and I also love this ridiculous painting of her...WHAT?!) Admittedly, her performance of "Memory" was not as great as "I Dreamed a Dream," and, in fact, there were some disastrous nerves peeking through early in the song, but it ended wonderfully and I love her no less.

You know what else I think? Britain's Got Talent is so much better than America's Got Talent. I fondly remember AGT's first season with the hot, all-male tap group, the supremely bendy archer, the creepy quick changers, and Philly's child wonder (and winner) Bianca Ryan, but I think the car that Brandy used to accidentally run someone over (allegedly causing her to be removed as a judge??) also ran over the show's talent and intrigue by season two. Is there a case to be made here about talent shows peaking in their first seasons (**cough cough** American Idol)?
I am not claiming that BGT has more talent, but I do think its production value is much greater with its helluva dramatic soundtrack and seriously sappy editing. Oh, and, need I remind you...they gave us Susan Boyle?

I think if I were any other contestant in this season of Britain's Got Talent, I would be seeking a lawsuit against Susan Boyle for stealing the show.

I think that if the British people do not vote Susan through to perform for Her Majesty, The Queen, Americans will start another revolution.

I think I cannot wait to see her performance in the finals!

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day and this is what I think...

I wrote an email this morning and, near the end, I remembered that today was a holiday, so, as all cultured persons are trained to do, I threw in a "Happy Memorial Day!" As soon I finished typing it, I realized how stupid it was.

Memorial Day was designed to honor those who died in war. Happy? Are you kidding me? I think we should say "Sad Memorial Day," or, at the very least, "Somber Memorial Day." It reminds of a commentary delivered by Laurie Anderson that I once saw on youtube, in which she expounds upon the profundity of our national anthem. She points out that the entire song is just a man, watching a battle, asking "hey, can you see anything through the smoke and dim light of the morning? I think I see a flag, but there is an awful lot of commotion." Seriously?

I love the endless renditions of our national anthem offered by celebrities and wannabes at all sorts of sporting events and ceremonies, so I certainly do not want it to be changed (as many have suggested in the past, and I am sure some are continuin to whine about), but it IS rather ridiculous that this simple poem about war was turned into our national anthem.

And what is that really saying about the US? "We love war and destruction! The red glare of rockets is so beautiful. . .as long as our flag is still standing at the end. We are so brave." Vomit.

Seriously, though - I do love hearing the song be performed, so please do not change it if you ever find yourself with the power to do so.

And Happy Memorial Day!