Intervention!

Hear my siren song...

I am addicted to Facebook word games. That is all.

Can you spot the fake smile?

Check out this test from the BBC. You get to watch short clips of twenty smiles, and you have to decide if the smile is fake or genuine. You only get to watch each clip once, so be sure to pay attention.

I got 18 out of 20, but I've had some training in deceptive behavior. Let me know how you do.

Sorry about your dad’s cancer. Now get out.

Amanda and Gena told me it would be a good one, and they were right. Tonight’s episode of Rock of Love whittled us down from three women to the final two. But before that happened, we got to meet the girls’ families. Correction: we got to meet Ambre and Destiney’s families, and we got to meet Daisy’s ex-boyfriend’s sister because apparently her family doesn’t speak to her. What? They couldn’t get, like, an aunt or cousin up in here? When your closest “relative” is your ex’s sister, it’s maybe time to take stock of your life and figure out where it all went wrong. My guess would be sometime around the hair extensions.

Anyway, Daisy is sitting there all sad and glum while Ambre and Destiney greet their parents, and wondering who, if anyone, will come for her on Family Day. It was pretty depressing and I started to feel really sorry for her. Until she opened her duck lips and spoke and then I remembered that if I were in her family I wouldn’t talk to her either. Then I decided to spend all my sympathy on Destiney, whose father has terminal liver cancer.

The girls each get a solo date with Bret. On the first date, Bret grills Daisy some more about her fishy relationship with her “ex” Charles. Daisy’s response? “My life isn’t black and white. It’s color.” Bret’s response that that? “Thank you for the education, there, Kodachrome, but what the hell are you talking about?” Exactly, Bret. Exactly. Daisy then declared her love for Bret. Meanwhile Charles’ sister is staring at her all, “You are the property of my brother. Especially your silicone parts.”

On the second date, Bret took Destiney and her parents to the tattoo parlor so Destiney could get a tattoo of the Rock of Love logo on her neck. Apparently she thought this was cool because Heather did it, and can I just say, I think Destiney has more of crush on Heather than on Bret. During the inking, Bret revealed that tattoo pain turns him on. And really, what doesn’t? Collagen! Strippers! Brussel sprouts! Total turn-on!

On the third date, Ambre found herself in hot water when it was revealed that she is 37 years old, and not 32 as she had been telling Bret. I think Bret should have been in hot water for not having the intelligence to tell that that’s not what a 32 year-old looks like, but perhaps I’m just sensitive because I’ll be approaching that age in the not too distant future. Anyway, Bret is shocked, SHOCKED, that Ambre would lie to him about her age. Oh no, Bret! Women lie about their age! This just in: Daisy’s lips aren’t real either!

Oh, and P.S. Between “Scott Baio Is 45 and Single” and the Celebrity Fit Club previews in which Erin Moran is getting drunk and behaving like a stripper, so much so that even Tina Yothers is disgusted, I think it’s pretty clear that VH-1 has ruined Happy Days for all of us.

Before eliminations, the girls have a little chat in which Ambre and Daisy call Destiney on not being attached enough to Bret. Daisy asks Destiney if she would still be on the show if it was Jon Bon Jovi or John Stamos they were dating, and she does so in a tone of voice that implies that she thinks either of those men is LESS of a catch than Bret Michaels. Can collagen seep into your brain?

During eliminations Bret tells each of the ladies what he admires about them. The only thing of note was when he described Daisy as creative. Creative? In what areas? Collagen injection? Hair extensions? Perhaps Daisy could have her own show on the DIY network. Tramping it up! with Daisy de la Hoya. "On this week’s episode: Breast implants and you. The choice to go with silicone or saline. Our hostess has two of each, just for good measure!"

In the end, it was Destiney who had to go, because she wasn’t prepared to say she was in love after spending two weeks with Bret and 20 other girls, most of whom were strippers. This has to be the most respect I had for her all season.

Next week: Mexico! Bret takes Daisy out on a yacht (because apparently the people who developed the show felt the need to copy season 1 point by point) and she gets seasick and vomits off the side. I suppose it only makes sense that Daisy’s date is on a boat. She’s a human flotation device.

I've been Rickrolled!

Fear me!

So, Josh recently Punk’d me. Do the kids still say that? I wouldn’t know because I’m old enough to remember Rick Astley videos, which brings me full circle back to Josh’s little practical joke. He emailed me with a link to a supposed Nastase Reunion video he’d uploaded to You Tube. Like a fool, I followed it and was greeted by the sights and sounds of the whitest white man in Whitonia attempting to get down. Gah! Apparently the phenomenon is called Rickrolling and this puts me in company with the Scientologists. Well played, Mehall. Well played.

Ah, Never Gonna Give You Up. Has anyone ever noticed how repetitive that song is? There are like two lines, and Rick just repeats them over and over while performing his “stylish” “dance moves” for us. I was horrified, yet transfixed. I found I could not take my eyes from the screen. The hair. The clothes. The embarrassing hip wiggling from our carrot-topped leading man. I sat entranced, unable to look away, and this gave me a chance to analyze the video.

What is going on here? We’re at the country club, then we’re down at the docks? What was Rick doing down there, at night, in his dapper white trench coat? And then there’s the outdoor chain link fence scenes. I especially enjoy the all-denim outfit. I think he’s wearing Mom Jeans. And they’re doing nothing to hide his unfortunate lady-hips.

Who are these blonde women dancing behind Rick? The objects of his affection? Have their hearts been aching, but they’re too shy to say it? Inside do they both know what’s been going on? Do they know the game and they’re gonna play it? And more importantly, why are they dressed like extras from the Thunder Road drag racing scene in Grease?

Apparently all of this is terribly inspiring to the bartender, who has no choice but to leap across the bar and perform some actual dancing, Fosse style. I think there may have been jazz hands. And I don’t know what the deal is with this blonde guy who shows up at the end of the video. Is he competing with Rick for the affections of one of the girls? Is he after the affections of Rick himself? What is he doing there and why is he only just showing up for the final verse? To dance. Down by the docks. At night.

In the end, I was left with more questions than answers. Which brings us back to Scientology. See how it all comes full circle?

Oliver, are you somehow responsible for this?

Surely they're not going to

blame us for this? Right? Natalie?

Jen and I went to see The Other Boleyn Girl last night. I always enjoy going to the movies, especially at Andy Lasky’s theater where there are burgers and gobs involved. The film was enjoyable, but there were problems (no spoilers ahead.) The sets and costumes were beautiful and, if you like Tudor history, it certainly gives you a lot to talk about regarding he film’s inaccuracies. And oh, the inaccuracies! The Other Boleyn Girl was so historically inaccurate that I spent the film indulging myself in eye-rolling of the most magnificent proportions. The filmmakers made some choices that were just ludicrous, both from an historical perspective and a filmmaking perspective. That being said, I’d go to a reading of the phone book if Eric Bana were involved. He pretty much rocks.

I’ve heard a lot of guff about Brits being annoyed that yet another American film company has made a movie that casts American actors and butchers British history. To which I say: whatever! The casting of two American actresses didn’t cause the ridiculous characterization of the Boleyn sisters. It didn’t the cause disappearance of certain important characters, or the Oliver-Stone-level disregard the film shows to, you know, actual fact. It is a grossly historically inaccurate screenplay written by an English screenwriter, based on only slightly less historically inaccurate source material written by an English author, and all directed by an English director. If the English weren’t responsible for this mess, they were certainly complicit.

But getting back to the sins of the Americans, there were two women sitting behind us in the theater that were whispering through the whole film. I shushed them three times to no avail, and even gave them the hairy eyeball on my way back to get a drink. Finally, I had to turn around and hiss "Please stop talking!" That finally did it. Why must people be so obtuse, as Andy Dufresne would say?

The twists and turns of Memory Lane

Does anyone remember Hostess Pudding Pies? They were just like their fruit pies, but filled with pudding instead. I loved them when I was a kid, but I hadn’t seen them for years. Then I walked into Sheetz the other day and there they were, wedged in between the Ho-Hos and the Ding Dongs: Hostess Pudding Pies!


I was so excited to see them, I exclaimed, “Holy crap! Are you serious?” right out loud, which earned me a few of those strange looks that I am so accustomed to receiving. So of course I had to buy one. When I got home, I gingerly tore open the crinkly paper and smelled the pie shell. Memories of childhood came rushing back.


With anticipation, I broke the pie apart to reveal the familiar sight of smooth chocolate pudding inside.


I took the first magnificent bite and... nearly gagged on how sweet the thing was. (Wrrrrrrkkkk! The needle comes off the record!) Can I just say, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the nation has been thrown into a sugar shortage since production of these things started up again. I imagine we’ll soon be rationing like during WWII. I took a second bite, because I am stubborn and clearly insane, and I had to spit it out.

The sad truth is some things are better left in your childhood. Orange drink, Spaghetti-Os, The Love Boat. These are all better enjoyed through hazy reminiscences than up close. (Trust me, Gopher was not that cute.) The Hostess Pudding Pie is no different. It ages about as well as a beach party movie. You’re better off with a Debbie Cake.

April Fool's!

Today at work, a friend of mine was given a phone message instructing him to return the call of a Mr. Lyon. When he called the number, he got the Pittsburgh Zoo. I have been cackling like a mad person all day long over that.

Then I told him I had a message for him from a Mr. Panda Bear.

And that pretty much tells you all you need to know about me.