Just Breathe

I have issues with people that sing like they're running out of air on purpose. Let's take Jessica Simpson and her new Pizza Hut commercial, for instance. A pizza with removable cheesy bites for a crust is really not sexy, no matter how much you try to make it that way, so can we please cut out the panting, Jess?

If this is some kind of musical style that is appealing, I just don't get it. Jessica does the "attempting to sound sexy" breathiness, but there are other singers I've heard that just sound like they purposefully breathe really hard in between musical phrases for no apparent reason. It doesn't make me want to listen more. On the contrary, it makes me want to turn down the volume and get them an oxygen tank. To me, a good voice is strong and clear, not raspy and full of air. I know that music is a very subjective thing and different people like different sounds, but this is just one aspect I don't think I can budge on. If you want to make music, do me a favor and remember to breathe.

Poking and Prodding

Medical tests received today: urine examination, blood test, chest x-ray, one "say aah", many requests for deep breaths, weight measurement with a few pounds removed due to wearing my shoes ( the nurse made the disclaimer, not me ), a few temperature readings, and much poking and prodding of my painful side.

Medical tests still to be performed: abdominal ultrasound

All of this plus buying a razor, shave gel, water, and tissues, and shaving my legs in my car in the CVS parking lot due to winter shaving laziness and unexpected doctor's appointment led to an interesting and un-fun day.

P.T. 2000

When I was in middle school, I entered a competition called Invention Convention, which is basically what its name describes -- a convention where kids bring their inventions and are judged on their creativity, usefulness, and all that jazz. When I signed up to do Invention Convention, I don't think that I had any world-changing, life-altering thing in mind to invent. I think I just wanted an easy day off of school. As a result of my lacksidasical attitude, I brought to the I.C. the simplest invention I could think of -- The P.T. 2000. The concept was for it to be a pet translator. You would put this contraption on your pet's head, and somehow it would translate whatever your pet was thinking into English. At its roots, the P.T. 2000 was a glorified baseball hat. I don't think I even tried to create a translator screen or showcase different sizes for hamsters or Great Danes. I took an old hat, stuck a label on it, and cashed in my
get-out-of-school-free card.

Needless to say, I was awarded no prize for my so-called invention that day. I mean, how could any judge award a blue ribbon to a pink and yellow baseball hat with an index card slapped on it when some young Rube Goldberg has shown up with a robot that calculates the air pressure while making scrambled eggs and doing the rhumba? I was a loser from the get-go, but ten years later, after giving it much thought, I still contend that if it could be done, it'd be pretty dang sweet to know what your pet is thinking.

Waiting on Chicken

I've never been much of a cook. Grove City didn't allow us to be grown-ups and live in apartments where we had access to such luxuries as ovens, stoves, large refrigerators, etc., so I didn't really get the chance to hone my skills during my college years. Most people like to joke about how they can't cook and say that the only thing they can make is a TV dinner. For me, that was basically true, and I was okay with it. On breaks, my diet consisted mainly of Stouffer's stuffed pepper TV dinners, and macaroni (pasta, to those of you who might think I mean macaroni and cheese). Now that I have a 135 pound husband to fatten up, cooking has become a part of my daily life, but I'm still not that great at it, nor do I understand it. I can follow a recipe and usually have it turn out alright, but there is absolutely no ad-libbing or room for creativity at all. If Betty Crocker demands 1 1/4 cups of milk, then 1 1/4 cups of milk she will get. And that's the way it is. Don't get me wrong -- I don't mind conforming to a master chef's ideal proportions. One thing that does bother me, though, is that meals never seem to cook as fast as they're supposed to. Right now, I'm waiting on chicken cacciatore, but after the 10 minutes of recommended simmering time, the chicken is still pale and slimy. Thus, the motto of the story is, Betty Crocker might know the difference between a dash and a pinch, but she sure as heck can't tell time.

I must be dreaming

Just a short post because I have to get ready for work, but I can't help but address the fact that I am currently watching Roseanne Barr dressed in a poodle skirt, pink cowboy hat and braided pigtails singing about a donut farm. That just has to be someone's worst nightmare.

DTMs Make Hollywood Comeback

So, is it just me, or do a lot of Hollywood actors seem to be growing dirty mustaches? And by "a lot of Hollywood actors," I mean George Eads, who plays Nick on CSI, and Bryan Dattilo, who plays Lucas on Days of Our Lives. They are both good-looking guys without mustaches, so I can't really see the need to grow one, especially one that's kind of scraggly and only half there. In case you don't know who they are, here are pictures of each of them, sans mustaches.
Now, because I can't find any pictures of them with their mustaches, here is my rendition.


They look pretty much like that, except worse. Very Super Mario/child molester, eh?

Selective Coverage

Since the Steelers won the AFC Championship game, the Pittsburgh news channels have been covering every story that has anything even remotely having to do with anything Steelers. A toy cannon that shoots black and gold confetti? Sure, we'll do a special report on that. A two-year-old child named Seven after Ben Roethlisberger? Yeah, that sounds like a top story, alright.
It's great that the Steelers won, but what happened to the real news? Wendy Bell totally neglected to tell me about the two mining accidents yesterday that raised WV's death toll to 16 miners in the past month, and during any other week, that would probably be the first thing I heard when I turned on the TV.
It's just kind of interesting to see the media's ability to 1. sort of pick and choose what people are informed about and 2. make any piece of information into a headline just by putting the right spin on it. That will probably ease my worry a little bit the next time I hear about a terrorist threat or the bird flu plague.