I defended her right to espouse her belief in "opposite marriage" - whatever the hell that is - when she rambled her answer about gay marriage during the Miss USA pageant.
It's HER belief. SHE stated how SHE feels, good for her.
I derided Perez Hilton for choosing name calling over using the incident as a springboard for actual dialogue. Calling her a bitch, then retracting that to correct it to c*nt? Well, one of them ended up looking like one, and it wasn't Carrie Prejean, Perez.
But now, quick to capitalize on her sudden heroine status in the conservative community, Carrie has agreed to be included in an ad for the National Organization for Marriage As Long As It's Not Gay, Ewwwww.
As her Miss USA piece rolls, a voiceover states, "Gay marriage activists attack people for supporting marriage because they don't want to debate the consequences of same-sex marriage. They want to silence opposition."
Ooooooo! The "consequences!" Like what? Gays and lesbians may beat us at our own game and have a lower divorce rate? Happier homes?
The whole thing is sad.
And before someone asks again, yes, I know what Barack Obama's stance is. And I do not agree with him.
Oh, sorry, should have asked you to sit down for that one.
My love for Rudy is no different than that between two committed, loving, caring, passionate gay men or women. And I do not believe that marriage is some sacred institution reserved just for heteros to screw up.
Why does the thought of Jack and Bill scare them so much? If you don't want a gay marriage, don't have one! And don't give me the tired old shit that it will lead to people marrying their oxen. It won't.
I am so tired of seeing my gay and lesbian friends treated as somehow less. They pay taxes, they are honest, hardworking - just like Joe The One Offer Away From A Porn Movie Plumber. Oh wait - he still has that tax issue...
My lifestyle is not threatened in the least if they get married. They deserve everything that I am able to just walk right up and take because I like men. I guess I just wish people could learn to live and let live.
The Miss California pageant system came forward and summed it up, "In the entire history of Miss USA, no reigning title holder has so readily committed her face and voice to a more devisive [sic] or polarizing issue. We are deeply saddened Carrie Prejean has forgotten her platform of the Special Olympics, her committment [sic] to all Californians, and solidified her legacy as one that goes beyond the rights to voice her beliefs and instead reveals her opportunistic Agenda."
Well, I guess it's safe to say, seeing as we are now only three weeks from the finale, that the early rumor of half hour results shows WAS A BIG, FAT, BODACIOUS LIE.
We gathered again for what should be a simple process. Only five people left, one needs to go. Ten seconds tops.
Ehhh, knowing they have us (or our DVRS, as is the case in most households) by the short curlies, they again abuse our patience and loyalty by stuffing another results shows with more filler than a 7-11 burrito.
Taylor Hicks! Vommercial! GROUP SONG! Natalie Cole! (Who? asks the young viewers. Nat King Cole's daughter. Who? asks the young viewers.) Jamie Foxx! And, oh yeah, if we remember, we'll send someone home.
You know those kids think that from time to time. Hey, maybe they'll stick so many things in this results show that they'll run over AGAIN and forget to send one of us home!
But, no such luck this week, so let's slog through this together...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OH. THE. DRAMA.
Drumbeats. Flashing lights. Faces of fear. Faces of glee. Faces in dire need of powder? Seriously, didn't they look a little REM? (Shiny, happy people - work with me, folks) Then Jamie Foxx cuts in with the question to the kids, "Would you rather be a singer, or would you rather be an artist?"
Well, I can't draw a straight line, so I guess I'd rather be a singer. Oh wait...
Hypercuts of hyperbole from Tuesday's broadcast: Brilliant! Unbelievable! YOU CAN SING! (And Mamma Mia, you can dance, having the time of your life... sorry, already distracted, NOT a good sign.)
Ryan speaks: They're the last five standing, but which one is going home?
Jamie again: I got five people that shock the world.
(OK, that's a tad heavy there, Jamie. "Shock the world"? Really?Hitler shocked the world. Pol Pot, Stalin, Osama - they all shocked the world. Allison? Matt? Hell, not even Matt's Mole is shocking. Entertaining? Sure. But shocking? I guess I'll just Blame It on the al-al-al-al-al-al-cohol, Jamie.)
Slam camera into face of Ryan Seacrest (damn,now THAT was shocking): But who will get the shock tonight? T.I.A.I.
After the graphics, Her Royal Highness, Queen Seacrest cascaded down the stairs yet again. Does he not yet understand how completely douchable he looks? He all but has a nozzle for a crown.
He informed us that over 47 million votes came in last night and then gave a quick hello to Randy, who was getting his roots done at Casa de Yocheckitout when he had to run to the studio still wearing their hot pink smock; Kara, who next to Randy, looked postively drab in lavender; Paula dressed up like a rhinestoned cowboy - she glittered everywhere. Even the tarantula she used to hold her hair back was hot glued with Swarovskis; and Simon? Dude, the t-shirt didn't even look expensive tonight. I could totally see nipple through the thin white Dollar Store Haynes.
Simon did chime in and say of watching the show back Tuesday night, "Everybody was good. Probably the best show at this stage I've ever seen - the most open competition."
This led straight into the Ford Vommercial, set to Energy. The kids were off in the desert (which is black and white, in case you've never been there) for a track meet in long pants and long sleeves. As they raced against one another in slow motion, a Ford Fusion streaked across the thirsty, sparse landscape. And then, because we all know that hybrids are fantasmagorical, Puff The Magic Fusion spewed exhaust all over everything and turned the world happy shades of green, pink, and purple.
What better way to top a Vommercial than with a GROUP SONG? And I may be mistaken, but I think they ACTUALLY SANG this time. Beginning on the stairs, Allison started the medley of It Don't Mean A Thing and I Got Rhythm, only Danny and Kris do not - they could not snap in time to save their lives.
Hatt took over lead vocals, then Kris, then they stood in a semicircle, ALL snapping to different rhthyms. It was painful. Mercifully it ended and we were sent to the sweet respite of ten commercials for Room Store, Lie To Me, and those BK girls with square butts.
Back on stage, the kids were assembled not on the Couches of Comfort, but the Silver Stools of Suckdom. (I guess the stools got a promotion?) Because time was not of the essence, we wasted some of it by talking about Danny having a birthday last Friday, and Allison having one this past Monday. Of course, those kooky kids baked some cakes and they just happen to have film of it!
As they attempted to crack eggs and pour cake batter into PIE PANS, a food fight broke out. Cake decorating - as in decorating one another with cake - was the order of the day and soon they were smeared from head to toe with frosting, flour, and sprinkles.
And you could hear the chorus of kids across America as they all turned to their parents and complained, "Why can't we have fun like that?"
And if you listened closely, you could hear the parents all wishing herpes, syphillis, and butt warts on the AI producers.
Ryan then called all five to center stage and separated them thusly (yes, yes, yes, LOOOOONG minutes were wasted recapping the judges' comments, getting the contestants thoughts, but I DON'T CARE):
Hatt: Please go to stage right (your left)
Danny: Head to stage left (your right)
Allison - go hang with Danny
Kris - share some spotlight with Hatt
That left Adam standing alone and it was time to once again play America's Favorite Idol Game: Screw Over Your Fellow Contestants!
Ryan: Adam. which group do you think you belong in?
Adam: Oh, come on. (But then, instead of taking a page from the Melinda Doolittle book and refusing to BF (and I do not mean best friend) his pals on national TV by plopping down at center stage...) Based on last night? Probably that group. And he walked over to Danny and Allison.
Snap! Wrong guess, Adam. To everyone's surprise, Ryan pulled him over to Hatt and Kris and announced THIS is your bottom 3.
Gasps! Shock! Awe! Weapons of mass confusion! Oh the Huadamity!
The judges all reacted:
Paula: This is crazy, crazy. (Well, if anyone should know crazy...)
Randy: I don't get it. Jamie Foxx was blown away.
Kara: My mouth went open again. That's what happens with Adam.
Of course, this being American Idol, everyone's favorite pay-for-porn show, Randy turned that into a cough-cough inference about a blow job.
Cut to commercial.
Is it possible for them to get through ONE show without adult - sex - homophobe - innuendo? Rhetorical question, don't answer...
AFTER ANOTHER BREAK
it was time to welcome Natalie Cole - a lovely singer, but just what relevence she has to this show? I had to explain her to my kids. - She came out ontstage to sing Something's Gotta Give, from her latest album, Still Unforgettable (nothing like beating Dad's memory to death, huh Nat?), and I must admit, the lady looked fabulous. Thin, short hair, and that dress - a liquidy gold dream - she looked like an older Toni Braxton.
And yes, she sounded fabulous, too. I did not fast forward - I found I was enjoying the band and the Rat Packy vibe of the song.
Before cutting to another break, the backstage camera showed Matt, Kris, and Adam conversing - they didn't looked tense. In fact, they could have been swapping cake recipes or deciding where to get a burger after this Gilligan cruise of a show.
But those results would have to wait a bit longer because Season 5 winner and Soul Patrol captain, Taylor Hicks was in da howse! There to sing 7 Mile Breakdown from his new album, The Distance, Taylor emerged in JEANS, a black shirt, his gray hair still shining - sue me, but I have always loved Taylor. He makes me smile.
Playing the guitar, he laid out a bluesy tune, smiling all the while, even threw in some harmonica - he seemed happy to be back on the AI stage (and why not? His post Idol run has not exactly been of Carrie Underwood proportions). As the song ended, Taylor was blown away that he even got a standing O from Simon.
(Which as I have said before is difficult - having to keep your balance and all...)
Finally Hatt, Kris, and Adam came back to center stage where Idol set up the most anticlimactic ending ever, ever, evereverever.
Ryan sent KRIS back to safety. leaving Adam and Hatt to duke it out for hind tit.
Um, yeah. Like anyone thought Adam was going home.
But we'll just have to wait a little while longer to see it happen because Jamie Foxx, in exchange for his wonderful mentoring, got three and a half minutes of primetime to sing Blame It.
He came out, doing the requisite My-shoes-are-stuck-in-mud-and-I've-got-a-load-in-my-drawers stomp.
I don't get it.
One week we've got Flo gettin' a blow, the next we have Miley chastely singing about The Climb, then we get Jamie going on about getting a trouser tent on the dance floor.
I fast forwarded. Not because I was offended. It takes more than a song about wood to offend me, but because I was bored.
Jamie then spoke to Ryan about the kids, "I saw five of the most talented people I've seen in the last 10 years. These people are true artists."
The MOST talented? Oh well, I'm too bored right now to quibble with Mr. Foxx.
Kris and Hatt came out and Jamie answered Ryan's question as to whether or not America got it right. "It doesn't matter right now. It's what's gonna happen after this and the careers they're going to have after this. And also, I've got a movie out called The Soloist, check it out."
I'm not kidding.
Just like that - tagged it on. I need milk, bread, some Toaster Streudals, chocolate pudding, a box of Kitty Litter, and oh by the way I wrecked the car and am pregnant with your brother's baby.
Slip it in there like no one will notice.
Then finally - FINALLY - FI -NAL-LY - Ryan took the lights down one more time and said, After 47 million votes, the highest of the season ... ADAM ... pause long enough to build a Ford Focus and race it through the desert ... you are SAFE.
Ryan, YOU ARE AN ANEHOLE. That was beyond DUH. That was beyond DUHnderdome. Even Tina Turner and Mel Gibson rolled their eyes.
They then rolled Hatt's journey tape - oh look, Matt and Moley McMoleplestein, then Hatt, Hatt, and Hatt - poor Moley hidden away like some deranged, hunchbacked cousin in a Harlequin Romance Novel.
Hatt then reprised My Funny Valentine and I then reprised my Fast Forward button. A few nice words from the judges and we were set free to await Rock -n- Roll Week.
THAT should be a good time. At least for Adam and Allison. As for Kris and Danny? If they thought Rat Pack cool was hard to summon, Metallica-Def Lepperd-Poison is already keeping them up at night. They may need some al-al-al-al-al-alcohol to find their inner rocker. Jamie?
~~~~~~~~~
I thought I'd leave this video here in case you haven't seen it yet. I found this Rat Pack delight in my inbox this morning - Dean and Old Blue Eyes. Ahhhh, they just don't make 'em like this anymore...
Dean Martin, Joey Biship, Sammy Davis, Jr., Peter Lawford, Frank Sinatra - even those few ladies who were allowed into the "club" - Shirley MacLaine, Lauren Bacall, Angie Dickinson, Marilyn Monroe, and Judy Garland.
They represent a moment in time. Back when personalities HAD personalities. Back when people packed Las Vegas showrooms, eager to see the headliner - be it Sammy, Joey, Frank - and hopeful that, as was the norm, the other members would "show up" and make it a night to remember.
Their antics were the stuff of legend. They were the original Ocean's Eleven - giving off cool in waves so big Clooney and Pitt would need water wings to stay afloat.
Their music was the kind that stands the test of time.
Now, while most women swooned for Old Blue Eyes, or fantasized about Sammy's "man candy", Dean is probably my favorite member. Smooth as a baby's bottom, suave, deboner (no, I do not mean debonair - although he was that, too - but de boner, as in horny all the time, all the time, ALLTHETIME). His voice still goes straight to the crotch. Deep, playful, sexy.
Ain't That A Kick In The Head gets major play on my iPod. It's fun, flirty, and old Dean, in his prime, singing about a king sized bed? Well, all apologies to Andy Samberg, but I think I just jizzed in my pants...
Ahem...
While I catch my breath, how's about a recap? Hit it, boys...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With lighting leftover from The Weakest Link, the contestants stood illuminated from above as Ryperbole ranneth over...
For the people who remain on THIS stage
(heavy emphasis on THIS), the inTENsity of the competition (hit TEN hard) is a constant evolution (Darwin would be so proud...). Tonight (pauuuuuuuse) they take on some of the most classic American songs (take a beat) of all time. But WHO(say that louder) will set the standard? (Get it? Old songs, standards?)THESE(not those over there) are your Top 5 and T.I.A.I.
The graphics rolled and then there he was, once again descending from on high to walk amongst the commoners for an hour - Ryanysus - the god of God of wine, parties/festivals, madness, merriment, and CHEESE.
A quick hello to the judges - Randy, looking terribly subdued in a white T and gray cardigan. More ratty pack than Rat Pack; Kara-I-Believe-That-Color-Is-Called-Cerulean-In-The-Crayola-64-Box showing off her armpit for all to see. Paula was wearing a red designer lobster bib; Simon phoned it in in basic black.
Ryan introduced the theme for the evening - Standards From The Rat Pack Era, and then the Top 5 emerged onto the stage. At least I think they did, four of them were obliterated by the supernova Adam was wearing. I'm not kidding. He shone brighter than an x-rayed colon after a barium enema.
Ryan then rolled tape of the kids hanging around the manse awaiting a "mystery mentor." Who could it be???
Kris conjectured, "The theme is Rat Pack, so all those people are ... (awkward pause) dead."
No worries, Kris. They did not incorporate the creepy Elvis hologram tool from several seasons back. Or the creepier real-life form of Celine Dion...
Rather, the doors opened, and there he was - Mr. Cool, himself, Jamie Foxx.
Now there's a mentor. (Quentin, who?)
Jamie Foxx has managed to cross all entertainment lines from TV - his earliest days were spent as part of the In Living Color cast, to the big screen (earning an Oscar for his portrayal of Ray Charles) to music (chart topping songs, currently Blame It (on the al-al-al-al-al-alcohol)), to radio (The Foxx Hole on Sirius).
In terms of music, Jamie is a classically trained musician, some of which he showed off in Ray, with more of his talents to be seen in the upcoming The Soloist.
The first break (anyone else excited about SYTYCD?) brought us back to video of Kris meeting up with Jamie to rehearse The Way You Look Tonight.
And Jamie was sold. Of Kris, he said he's "not trying to sing the Throat Olympics..." and "This dude is a dude I'll do a record with."
Dude.
To Kris he said, "You're my #1." High praise for our slow and steady underdog.
On stage, Kris stood at the microphone, dressed Rat Pack cool in a suit and skinny tie, his hair aglow in the purple spotlight. As he sang, he caressed Matilda's head - he did not eat it off like some contestants (Allison), or rape the eardrums like others (Adam).
Kris just sings. And, go figure, it's effective.
He is smooth, his voice has power he does not feel the need to use to beat and mangle every single note (Matt G). The performance picked up tempo in the middle, yet he kept control, and brought it back down slowly, endling with a well done falsetto.
He's a doll. This song in other hands - like, oh, I dunno, let's say, Constantine Smarmoulis?, would have been oozy, creepy, sad, dirty. Constantine is an Amsterdam storefront hooker compared to Kris Allen.
Randy began his critique with those time honored words, "yo, check it, yo, check it out, yo, baby, you..." (I just type what he says, people.) He then told Kris "you took your time, you told a story, and had mad, nice vocals, baby." He ended with "I personally think this is your best performance to date."
Kara concurred, "You have set the technical standard so incredibly high for this evening." She lauded his "impeccable phrasing, diction, rhythms, timing, and unique approach to the song."
Paula, sucking on a crab claw, looked up to add that he has made "an amazing transition from being the adorable boy next door into the ever-so-handsome, sophisticated gentleman, contemporary crooner."
Simon wasn't as sold, calling it "good" and "a little bit wet" which he explained as "taking a Cocker Spaniel for a walk - safe, quite nice, not incredible." And then, aware that someone must be voted off, attempted to steer the vote with, "I don't get the feeling tonight that you can win this competition."
I don't think he needs to, Simon. I do believe Jamie Foxx will be more than happy to work with him, regardless of a confetti coiffure in three weeks, or not.
Up next was Allison, sitting in the chat chairs with Ryan to talk about turning 17 this past Monday. They spent the day rehearsing, but then she was called to the third floor where there was a surprise party waiting.
Happy Belated, Allison!
With Jamie Foxx, Alison rehearsed Someone To Watch Over Me, and he was blown away, "16?!?! She is leaps and bounds ahead of her time." Since she is so young, he advised her to think about how much love flows from her family, that they are the ones who watch over her. He then predicted a "barn burner."
At the microphone, scads of multicolored loaner hair woven throughout her own, Allison wore a black and white dress with a skirt made of toilet paper (in a good way). It was whimsical, flowy with a tight black bodice with spaghetti straps. She looked classy and elegant, yet still had her teenager edge.
There is no argument, Allison can sing, unfortunately, she tends to gargle her words a lot. I could not understand half of what she was singing through the grine (growl + whine). Overall, it was a well done, albeit incoherent, performance.
Randy said she "looked like Brittany Murphy, you sing like Pink with 9,000 more octaves - that was the bomb!" Kara started with "Gurrrrrl ... I ain't nervous for you anymore. You are not a one trick pony." She loved that it was "gut wrenching" (yes, it does sometimes sound like she is being disemboweled, come to think of it), and "deeply emotional." Paula, butter dripping off her chin, spoke of the "innocent sensibility that was both alluring and very tender." Simon started with a question, "Do you think you can win this competition at this stage?"
Allison looked a tad startled, but answered, "I think I can."
Simon was unconvinced. "I don't feel that belief in you still." He did call it a "great performance." But then added it "felt a little bit mechanical."
Another break, and Hatt was on the chat chairs with Ryan talking about having studied jazz at college. THIS is the night he has been waiting for.
Jamie did not have much in the way of direction during their initial run through of My Funny Valentine, but called him back in and advised him to change the key to the song. "If he changes the key and sings in his full voice? He might nab #1."
Personal opinion here, but I don't think a key or full voice is what's keeping him from #1, Jamie. He's got talent, but just lacks "it".
Hatt sat on a stool and began singing, and while he seemed comfortable enough - this is definitely his wheelhouse (to steal a Randyism) - and his voice sounded strong, THIS was a mechanical performance. He had so many runs, one syllable words which had morphed into ten syllable words, falsettos, twists, turns, ups and downs, it was like he was following a Mapquest printout.
Hold note for three beats, turn right and a hang a uvula at the trombone. Ease off the pedal for two phrases, then shift into low to go downhill into lower register. After turning left at the soft palate, head north to Falsetto Crossing...
And that's the difference between Kris Allen and Hatt Giraud. Kris doesn't try too hard. He just sings. Hatt takes an addition problem and tries to solve it using calculus.
Randy said that while it is "probably one of the hardest songs to sing EVER," Hatt had some pitch problems and tried too many things. Overall score? "6 out of 10." Kara appreciated "all the runs and different things you did with it that show what an incredible singer you are, but I didn't feel it emotionally."
Paula, struggling to break open a claw, looked up long enough to say, "I love what you did with the song. I felt the emotional connection. And I need some more clarified butter!"
Simon disagreed with Randy and called Hatt's performance "the only believeable, authentic song I've heard tonight. Absolutely brilliant." (Basically Mapquesting the voters towards their telephones.)
Up next? Danny met Jamie to work on Come Rain Or Come Shine, and Jamie decided the best way to help Danny was to get THISCLOSE to his face, or "in his grill", as Jamie put it.
Danny was a little unnerved until Jamie assured him his breath was minty fresh.
On stage, Danny looked handsome in his suit and tie, a hot pink spotlight illuminating his head. As he began to sing, it was obvious he was psyched about this performance - his smile said it all, "Look out effers, here I come."
The beginning was restrained, smoky, a slow simmer he then brought up to the boil - WOW. Even I , an admitted Danny fan, had begun to grow tired of the same old, same old week after week. This was something else. He growled, he had power, he held the audience for the entire ride.
Randy told him, "You are the only one I've heard so far tonight that actually could have an album of songs like that - AND win. You can sing!" Kara said that all these weeks she's been "missing that Rat Pack swagger," but that Danny had "SWAG tonight!" She added that it "was the most creative you have ever been with a melody - it was unbelieveable!"
Paula was busy complaining to the waiter about not having a fingertip bowl for her buttery phalanges, but looked up to tell Danny it was a "stellar, stellar performance."
Simon complimented his "swagger and confidence" and said "you came out to prove a point." He added of Danny's vocals, that they were "the best I"ve heard from you for weeks" and then thanked Jamie for "What he brought out in you...outstanding."
One last break and we were down to the Pimp Spot, this week given to poor Adam Lambert. He needs it, sucking hind tit as he has all season ... not.
Jamie listened to him sing Feeling Good and predicted, "He's gonna knock everybody's head off. He can sing with the best of them - he's gonna be great."
Um, Jamie - may I just add, "DUH"?
The lights were down, and Adam was UP - high atop Mount Staircase, the neon stairs lit up with red, a single spotlight causing his entire body to glow like nuclear waste, only prettier. Dressed in a shiny, tight, white suit, black shirt, and white tie, he looked like the Bizarro World version of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.
He walked halfway down the stairs and then STOPPED. He then began singing slowly, softly, telling his story. Then the tempo picked up, he made his way down to the stage and he kicked the Rat Pack in it's dead bony ass - turning in a rock tinged version of a classic.
He held that last note long enough for it to learn to walk, graduate from high school, and earn a Masters Degree. (I do cry FOUL that he benefitted from that high tech reverb-echo treatment.)
I don't get it. I know I have said this about contestants before, but still, I don't get it. I have vocal cords. You have vocal cords. MINE do not make noise like that. Noise, yes. Like that? Noooooo. He is simply phenomenal. Winning this show is really not even the point anymore. Each week he has proven the tremendous talent he possesses and is headed for super stardom - hit singles, hell, entire hit albums, Broadway runs, movie soundtracks, movies, period.
Randy called it "a little theatrical, a little Broadway," but said that Adam is "in the zone consistently - another good performance." Kara stated her "mouth drops open everytime you perform" and called him "shocking, in a good way." She then added that he is "confusing and shocking and sleezy and superb."
I don't usually agree with WhoKarasWhatSheThinks Dio Guardi, but I believe she's right. Adam pushes the envelope every single time he performs. Sometimes it's a bit much, sometimes it may make a person uncomfortable, but who cares? He rocks.
Paula, done with dinner, the leftovers in two bright red origami swans on her chest, said "every performance is like watching the Olympics and you're our Michael Phelps."
Well, da-yum, Paula. I even have to agree with you.
Simon said that Randy complaining about it being theatrical is "like complaining that a cow moos - that's what you are." (Theatrical, not a cow, Adam.) He added, "You want to win and you want to prove a point every week, and you want to entertain and that's why I like the show with you." Oh, and he forbid Ryan from ever making an entrance down the stairs again, Ryan, you are no longer using those stairs."
A-freaking-men, Simon. Enough with the descending from Mt. Olympuss.
And with that, they rolled tape to remind us - it's just not fun at this point.
I'm serious.
No one sucked. In fact, I don't think anyone has sucked for a good long while. What is this? A singing competition?!?!
Seriously, I know who is safe - that's not a hard prediction to make. Adam will never grace a silver stool with his talented buttcheeks. And I think Danny hit it out of the park this time. So, a bottom three would be Allison, Hatt, and Kris.
I guess my money's on Hatt finally leaving. I just don't think he connects in a way that makes people dial with their hearts.
So what do YOU think? Who's going? Who's staying to the end? And which Rat Packer makes your butter melt?
I know the media tends to take a molehill and turn it into a mountain overrun with wild yaks, pestilence, and herds of oddly dressed men shouting Riiiiicolaaaaa!, BUT, swine flu IS in the US. It's ability to hopscotch from human to human is proven.
Do the obvious - wash your hands, cover your nose and mouth if you sneeze. And if someone near you doesn't cover theirs, smack the stupid swine upside their inconsiderate snout.
I know, I know - it's not like I haven't waxed rhapsodic about my girls before...
But they continue to amaze me. It is truly humbling being their mother.
Carson is still training five days a week as she pursues her soccer dreams. Never complaining, she goes from training straight to musical rehearsal with a smile on her sweaty face. Oliver! is just a few short weeks away, as are potential soccer play-offs. This past weekend, our little girl jumped a hurdle - she is a clean, but very aggressive player on the soccer field (it's HER ball, dammit) which means there is never a game in which the ref doesn't blow the whistle and call a foul on her.
But this past Saturday, young Miss Carson earned her first Yellow Card. (Those of you who follow soccer will understand the milestone.)
Oh, and despite a schedule that makes me tired to just think about? Her lowest grade on this last report card was a 96.
Kendall is a member of the UIL One Act Competitive Play, as is Culley. They have put in countless hours, and in the past month, have missed many days of school as they compete. Their troupe has advanced through Zone, Area, and District, with this past Friday taking them to Waco to compete in Region.
I couldn't go as I was here with Carson for soccer. But I waited. And waited. Waiting for the text that finally came that evening - all CAPS - WE ADVANCED TO STATE!!!!!
This is huge for them. They came home Saturday morning, proudly wearing their UIL award medals, and are now looking towards May to compete at State - stay tuned.
Kendall is also following in her big sister's footsteps - she has applied to the Texas Governor's School for Math & Science. Culley has been chosen the past two years (only 100 students from across Texas get in), and convinced Kendall to give it a shot. Fingers are crossed...
And finally, Culley. We knew last week, but I wanted to wait till the paperwork arrived making it official. Vanderbilt University has a prestigious Research Internship Program each summer - six weeks in which the selected students work in actual labs, doing real world research with real world implications. The competition is tough.
75 incoming seniors applied.
We found out she made the first cut down to the 28 who would receive a phone interview.
She spent 30 minutes on the phone with the director of the program at Vanderbilt, and two weeks dissecting every word she had said during her interview.
I am beyond proud to report that our soon-to-be 17 year old daughter, who is as gorgeous on the outside as she is smart on the inside, has been selected as 1 of the 19 who will travel to Vanderbilt for six weeks of hands-on research. She will get out of high school on June 5th, on an airplane June 6th, and begin her adventure June 8th doing actual cancer research.
And I will miss her. But damn, what a reason to miss her, huh?
As I said, I am constantly humbled by these daughters Rudy and I have been blessed with. They are kind, compassionate, smart, competitive, and funny.
And we are honored to have them call us Mom and Dad.
Hi everyone - Sorry about the lapse in postings - couldn't be helped. As Rudy stated in the comments, my CPU decided to go into a persistent vegetative state on Friday. (And the weekend was a cavalcade of soccer and reffing.)
Like a frantic mother with her injured child, I rushed CPU Sharp to the computer hospital (aka: Geek Squad desk at Best Buy). They immediately called a Code Blue and began life saving measures.
As the kind man opened the tower to remove the hard drive, I could not help but be overcome with embarrassment. It was filled with lint, dirt, hell, I thought I saw an actual dust bunny hopping around.
I hung my head in shame. It was like going to the emergency room and having them find a skid mark in your underwear.
He explained what he was going to do - test it to see if he could save my data to DVDs for me, and then attempt a System Recovery.
Best case: My files would suvive, my computer would have its frontal lobe removed and it would revert to its original state. $299.
Worse case: Corrupted, damaged, kaput. A System Recovery would be run and it would revert to its original state - all files gone. $199.
Bright side: He would clean the inside of the CPU for $20.
Always one to insert inappropriate humor at inappropriate times, I said, "I have $25 cash - would that get you to do it in a French Maid's uniform?"
As I stood at the counter, waiting for the results, I began to ponder how incredibly stupid I am. I have a perfectly good external hard drive hooked up to the computer. And yes, THANK GOD, I save really important things like manuscripts to it. But on the whole, like most people in this world, I do not back-up my files like I should. So we're talking a Kilamanjaro sized pile of files I would lose.
As he emerged from the back, the drive in his hands, I could tell the operation was not a success. Corrupted. Broken. Damaged. Effed in the A. (Or the C, if we're being technical about the drive)
The only option was to run the System Restore, giving it permanent amnesia, but bringing it back to life.
I sighed and told him to write it up.
Then I began to think...
I stopped him and said, "Let me see if I have this straight. For $199.00 I can get this computer back with nothing on it, right?" Yes.
"Or, I can turn around and buy a new computer with nothing on it?" Um, yeah.
"Put the pen down. I'll be right back."
I turned, walked into the computer area and accosted the young man standing there with nothing to do. I said, "Snap to, my dear boy. Sell me a computer."
He then asked a leading question, and again, being the inappropriate sort I am... "What do you have in mind?"
I said, "Well, let's just start this transaction with the word "FUCK." (That got his attention.) I took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "OK, I feel better now, we can start."
That broke the ice and just suffice it to say, it will be a long time before he gets another $1,100 sale AND such a good time.
I left the new puter with him so they could load CASPERSKY and a few other things for me, and grabbed the coma-esque CPU from the Geek Squad. (There was no reason to pay them $199 to run a program I could still access on my own.)
I took CPU Sharp home, hooked it back up to life support, and wistfully hit the keys that would wipe it clean of what ailed it. Fifteen minutes later (and NO $199), it was back, pretending it had just come out of the HP box.
I'm actually typing on it right now as I have not had two free minutes this past weekend in which to hook up the new puter.
I have had many LOOOONG minutes, however, while driving to and fro to think about all that has been lost. And kick myself repeatedly in the ass for NOT backing it all up.
There are far worse things in this world than getting a brand new computer, but please, use me as your cautionary tale - BACK UP YOUR FILES TODAY.
You never know when the corrupt Angel of Death will strike, leaving your bestest buddy a shadow of its former self, you, a quivering mess of hives and nightsweats, and some poor Best Buy clerk shaking his head in the breakroom, "Did that lady actually say FUCK?!?"
I swear to God, if it isn't one thing it's another.
Now, on top of worrying about paying our bills, keeping a roof over our heads, and our retirement plans currently as thin as Lindsay Lohan, we now have the CDC and WHO warning about a potential pandemic.
It's not that I wouldn't pay attention normally, but this morning, the first email I received was from the body that governs the soccer leagues in which the girls play. As some of the cases of Swine Flu have been here in Texas, apparently entire schools are being closed down (not here, not yet). Any students attending those schools are not allowed to compete in any soccer games until their schools have ben reopened.
That may not sound like a big deal, but it has the potential to erase complete teams from the "cups" in which they are all playing. And playoff games are just two weeks away.
Anyhoo, I just read a good piece at HuffPo regarding protecting yourself, what to look for, etc. It's worth reading.
And no, before someone asks (because I know you are all smartasses like me), symptoms do NOT include snorting, digging for truffles, or secreting bacon scented sweat.
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