I've not been in the best of moods recently. This is what came up when I put "rube goldberg grumpy" in the YouTube search box. You may want to watch with the sound muted if you're at work.
I've been skipping out on the last couple of weeks of this section of the blog mainly because there wasn't too much to write about. Megan Joy and Scott MacIntyre were on borrowed time and the themes weren't that interesting either (songs that are available on iTunes and songs from the year you were born).
This week, however, SUCKED so there should be plenty to write about. Spoilers abound, so if you are still unaware of tonight's results read at your own risk.
Top 7 week revolves around the theme of fatigue. For the contestants, this is their 7th competitive week. That's seven weeks of rehearsals, 6 Ford commercials, countless interviews and public appearances, as well as being sequestered with the same dozen people the entire time. On the flipside, the audience is getting pretty fatigued as well. The show has been on twice a week since mid-January with over 48 hours of programming so far. That's 2 days worth of Coca-Cola product placement, off-key auditions, and Tatiana. It has taken 6 weeks to get rid of all the dead weight on the show and it is now reaching the point where a quadruple elimination sounds like a good idea.
The show tends to compound the fatigue by having the top 7 theme be something incredibly tedious. In the past it has been Billy Joel (season 2), Barry Manilow (season 3), the Great American Songbook (season 5) and this week's theme of movie soundtracks. Granted, this week's theme is pretty vague yet we end up with 6 ballads, two of which are attributed to Bryan Adams. The group sing this week was "Maniac", which would have been awesome if someone, anyone, had performed that on Tuesday. Instead, it was one snoozer after another with Adam Lambert being the only high energy performance. Then, because the show refuses to invest in a stopwatch, only two judges would critique each performance. This could have worked if Simon critiqued all the performances and they rotated who the second judge was. Instead, Paula and Simon critiqued the odd number performances while Kara and Randy flapped their gums for the even number performances. And the show still ran over. Way to go.
There is one thing to look forward to with the Top 7 elimination: Solomon. Two groups of three would be formed on stage. The last ungrouped contestant would then be asked to join which group s/he thought was safe. Yes, it's manufactured drama, but depending on who the show made Solomon could make things interesting. I could see Danny or Anoop being totally assy about the whole thing while Matt or Kris would likely be devastated. The last couple of seasons Melinda Doolittle and David Archuleta were the Solomons and they refused to make a choice. Maybe that's what the show was trying to avoid by not doing Solomon this year. Thanks, show.
This week's bottom three were Anoop, Matt and Lil. It should be noted that the two guys were evaluated by Randy and Kara. It was then revealed that Matt was on the block this week. He might be next week also because the judges decided to save him. In other words, this tedious week was pointless. Not cool show. Also, we're going to be stuck with a Top 5 situation which always makes the show awkward.
But that's a couple weeks away. Next week is disco which could go really well or really badly.
The last 20 hours have been terrible. Thursday nights I've been bowling in a league at Black River Lanes with Bryan, Bukie and James. The first week of the league went fine. My scores were about on average, though I was low man for the evening. The following week I was having some trouble, but I just chalked it up to being tired -- it was the first week of the semester and I was swamped at work.
Last week was a major stumbling block. I couldn't get any of my equipment to do anything and by the third game I was fed up. 8-year-olds having a temper tantrum is annoying. If you are 25 it is really unforgivable. I instantly regretted it, but there's really nothing you can do at that point.
Last night I went in with the mindset that no matter how bad things might get, I will not behave the same way. By the middle of the second game, it was taking every ounce of will to keep myself in check. The frustration is attacking from several different angles. First, I am the only person on my team struggling. The other guys are averaging 200+, James even bowled his first 700 last night. It has nothing to do with the left side as our opponent's had a lefty on their team who was doing just fine. Also, this is the third week in a row I have been struggling on three different pairs of lanes, which means that the center isn't the variable. The only common denominator is me.
It was during the third game that I realized what my problem is. For whatever reason, I feel like I have to prove myself, which is causing me to try way too hard, which is causing me to do all sorts of weird shit in my shot making and is clouding my judgment when I need to make adjustments. The thought that occurred to me was a suggestion my therapist presented at my last meeting with her: that I am not comfortable in my own skin. Sure, my defensiveness, my inability to allow people to get close to me (intimately or even physically), and a host of other issues play into that theory, but for whatever reason I am demanding more proof.
When I came to this realization, I started to panic. Whenever I visualize this concept, I picture a boss from a game like Metroid or Zelda where you have to wait for the scales on their body or some protective covering moves away for a second so you can strike their weak point. When you hit that spot, the boss cries out in pain. I could see my vulnerability being exposed and an ice-cold blade getting ready to poke it. My focus shifted from shot making to holding it together. After the third game was done and I limped over the 400 line (I think? I didn't bother adding the scores) I threw my equipment in my bag, congratulated James and told Bryan I was going to wait in the car.
As we were driving back to Oberlin, my rear window was fogged up, so I turned on the rear defrost. About 2 minutes later, I heard a POP. At first I thought a tire blew out, but then someone said my window was cracking. Was it a gunshot? A meteorite? Whatever it was, it caused me to not hold it together anymore as I listened to the crystallized crackling sound of my rear window. As I approached 511, I hit a bump which caused the entire window to collapse. I won't bore you with the transcript of what I said, but rest assured it was not rated G.
I'm now waiting for my replacement window to get installed. This whole window thing is far too metaphorical for my taste. And expensive. Future metaphors take note: you need to cost less than $50.
Staff training started on Wednesday and things went off without a hitch. A slight snag occurred Thursday when the Wilder staff scheduled a Blood Borne Pathogen training session and invited the Lanes staff to participate. Judging by the thickness of dust on our blood bucket, our previous training session was my senior year, so the new staff will be the only people on staff who have had this particular tutorial. I'm not sure how we fell through the cracks there, but luckily we haven't had any exposures --- that I'm aware of, anyway.
"Okay, since I give this talk several times a day and I don't want to get bored, we're going to play Jeopardy," the lady from Lorain County Health Department screeched at us. "Now we're going to split up into teams because you can't play Jeopardy by yourself." Apparently the show has been doing it wrong for the last 24 years. Way to go, Trebek. My clusterfuck alarm started to ring in my head and I maybe should have kept an eye on the lanes instead of taking in the tutorial.
Once our teams assembled, we were told that we have one minute to figure out how we are going to buzz in. Since it took everyone forty five seconds to process the WTF nature of the request, LoCo HelDe decided that in honor of county fair week each team would be assigned a barnyard sound. I took this moment to warm up the death glare. We were assigned wolves and would have to howl to buzz in. Death glare still calibrating.
What annoyed me most about this exercise was that there was no prep prior to playing. Jeopardy-like exercises are used to reinforce knowledge but don't work all that well in terms of presenting new concepts. It also doesn't help when Loco Helde is heckling people who give incorrect answers or, in my fellow teammate's case, an inability to remember what stupid sound effect he is supposed to make (or just say "howl").
When we finally suffered through all the questions, we had to do "Final Jeopardy", including writing down answers and whatnot. You know what I don't enjoy? People who hum the Final Jeopardy theme to imply that something is taking too long. Would Helde appreciate it if I started doing that the second she opened her mouth?
The torture ended at about 11:30 but I don't feel any more enriched than I did at 10:30. Of course, pathogen stuff is easy (from my tutorial my senior year...of HIGH SCHOOL): wash your hands, use gloves, double bag and throw out anything that comes in contact with major bodily fluids. See, I just saved you 59 minutes.
I try to avoid using the word "deserve". I think part of this stems from the idea that it is often used incorrectly. Many times when someone starts a sentence with "I deserve...", it is bolstered by a misplaced sense of entitlement or, at best, self-righteousness that is so over the top that it is almost laughable. Maybe I'm a pushover, but I am hard-pressed to find a situation where I would actually attempt to appeal to someone by saying "I deserve" something to correct some perceived wrong.
This is not to say that the opposite should be avoided: "I do not deserve this." My thinking on this comes from one of the common applications I encounter with the term, that being a sort of Old Testament style punishment cast upon a sinner. My favorite is on court shows where the litigants are ex-lovers bickering over every petty item and going into almost obscene detail of every act of revenge. After about fifteen minutes of downright upsetting, filthy laundry, the judge will stop the arguing by declaring that both litigants deserve each other, which: true. I seem to recall a number of children's stories where the bad guy ended up getting what he deserved, be it getting eaten by a wolf, thrown down a well, or carted off to debtors' prison. The bad guy may scream out "I don't deserve this sort of treatment," but karma can be a harsh mistress.
But every so often I feel like I am getting some sort of cosmic raw deal and I am unsure of how to react. A story:
Ben had mentioned getting a date or two through the site OKCupid. The gimmick with this site is that the users not only fill out profiles but also surveys about their ideal match. Each question (and the importance that you enumerate) gets factored into a logarithm and results are compared to other users. The site has a sense of humor and is also a hub for a number of those goofy internet surveys, such as "Which Skittle Flavor are U?!" Anyway, I started playing around with the site and it actually is pretty nifty -- I recommend it. Last week I got an e-mail from a guy interested in my profile and we sent some e-mails back and forth. They have a chat client on the site and we talked and seemed to hit it off really well. We agreed to meet this past Saturday for dinner.
Saturday morning, before I leave for work, I get a phone call from him saying that his grandmother is in the hospital. I honestly believe his intention was to warn me about plans possibly needing to be shifted, but I couldn't help think that maybe he was trying to blow me off. However, given the timing and everything I trusted that it was genuine. That and it is customary for me to freak out for approximately 12 hours prior to any date (it keeps me chatty).
We both ended up running a little late (we were meeting in Strongsville), so that wasn't a significant issue. The dinner portion went relatively well -- the food was gross but the conversation was engrossing. We left the restaurant and started to drive around to find something to do. There's not much going on in Strongsville or the surrounding areas. We drove through a nearby Metropark and got a little lost before finally returning to the restaurant parking lot. Things ended somewhat awkwardly (I think we were both intimidated by each other) but overall things seemed positive.
I didn't hear from him on Sunday, but I still don't know the post-date protocol -- when it's two guys who is supposed to call whom? I came up with a date idea and e-mailed him Monday morning and did not get a reply. No worries, he typically responds to my e-mails at night. Anyway, I'm playing on OKCupid and he IM's me. Things start off pleasantly enough, but then he has what he calls good and bad news. I'm expecting something like "I can't make it on Saturday, but I've got tickets for something on Friday." Not quite. His ex heard about his grandmother and contacted him to find out how things were going. Apparently this rekindled some old flames. To clarify: It's not separate good news and bad news -- it is good for him and bad for me. Despite the fact that we both had a wonderful time on Saturday and we are both attracted to each other, in less than 48 hours I'm back to where I was two weeks ago, only more bitter.
This is (by my count) the third time this year where a guy makes me feel so much better about myself only to yank the rug out from under me. As far as I can tell, this has nothing to do with me, but I am the common denominator. If I am such a catch, why do I keep getting thrown back? Have I done, or not done, something to deserve this?
For about the last week and a half, I've been feeling like I'm riding on the edge of falling into a bad patch lifewise. Things have been going okay for the most part, great even, but I just have this sense of foreboding not unlike the sighting of the Big Gray Ass Cloud on the horizon every October.
I've been making some positive changes in my life that are actually reaping benefits. I've stopped drinking pop and have been more or less off the stuff for about a month. The only exceptions were a disgusting cream soda that I tried a couple weeks ago (they did come in nice bottles) and a can of Cherry Vanilla Blue Sky, also kinda gross. I've developed tunnel vision at the grocery store, essentially avoiding the junk aisles and hanging out in the produce section and the deli. I've focused more on exercising, be it rocking out on DDR or going to the gym. I'm losing weight, if the gym scale is to be believed, and have made a surprising amount of progress. Hockey is helping too, especially this past class. We had our first scrimmage, and my first interaction as a defenseman almost broke out into a hockey fight. I've got some good bruises going on.
But there is still the foreboding. This morning I woke up early (another benefit, as my Blood/High Fructose Corn Syrup Content is much lower and not causing insomnia) so I could take my car in to have the brakes checked. As I described it to the woman at Midas when I made my appointment yesterday, the breaks are grinding and they just sound unhappy. Anyway, I turn on the computer and my cell phone. My cell phone has no service and an unregistered SIM. Great. You see, I decided to switch phone companies and get a new phone (QWERTY phone, woot!) and keep my number. The number transfer went through, but I don't actually have the new phone yet. Great. I check the UPS tracking and the phone is "out for delivery". This is good news, except for: I have to drop off my car at 9:30 and have no way of changing my appointment since I can't call Midas; the only way Midas can contact me is through my work number, so I have to stay at the lanes; if UPS doesn't have a key to get into my building, they have no way of reaching me since the doorbell phone calls my cell phone (which they are delivering). Oh, and everything is frozen over because it's Ohio. Awesome.
I got the call about my car at about 10:30. The woman was very nice, though when she broke the news about what was wrong and how much it was going to cost she delivered it the same way that a vet would tell you that your six week old puppy will have to be put down. I guess this is why I have a savings account, but geez.
I'm still skirting that edge, but one push and it's going to be a hard fall.
This is my attempt to not be bitter about the holiday celebrated on February 14. That sound you hear is an attempted smile through gritted teeth. I actually don't have anything against Valentines/Singles Awareness/Whatevs Day -- I'm more resentful of the way my mind feels the need to analyze and deconstruct every aspect and nuance generated by the presence of this Hallmark holiday.
I could rehash previous posts on the subject of relationships, but that's not really where I won't to go with this. Basically, I can count on a shop teacher's hand the number of romantic relationships I have had and none of them overlapped with V Day. This, I fear, may have serious consequences. The first one that jumps to mind is the fact that I have no clue as to what I'm doing. Take the crush for example. Do you know how long it took me to get up the courage to say something? Four months. That's...bad pacing. And even then it was somewhat clumsy -- I'd give it a B+ performance. The concern here is that I feel like I've missed a critical learning window for how to establish relationships and the mores of dating. I could blame society, or the gay thing, or some voodoo curse, but besides not actually addressing the problem, it avoids the fact that the common denominator is me.
When I woke up this morning, I came up with the following analogy to better illustrate my point. Imagine you are in a gym class playing dodgeball. Now, let's say you didn't know the rules of the game and you are the first one out. You are standing on the sidelines waiting for the next game to start. You are watching the game, but still no one has explained the rules to you. The next game starts and you are first out again, and the cycle repeats. You are able to pick up aspects here and there, but strategy or how to last more than 5 seconds aren't picked up.
So this analogy is a little tortured, but hopefully you get what I'm saying. I don't even know why I want someone special in my life: I seem to be quite capable of feeling sorry for myself. Thank you for indulging.
Today's City Rec group was listening to 96.5 (Cleveland's KISS-FM station) instead of 107.9 (Hip-Hop/R&B). During the last five minutes of the group, DMX "Party Up" started playing. I don't think I could come up with a song that best describes my mental state right now AND is wildly inappropriate for a group of 6-year-olds.
And the radio edit doesn't really sound all that different from the original. They didn't do a good job of bleeping. I laughed. I laughed harder when it was immediately followed by Elliot Yamin.
Today was one of those days where I really wish I could shoot lightning out of my fingertips. Not to hurt anyone, mind you, just enough to intimidate. That would have been useful today.
Let me back up. For those of you who have escaped my summer kvetching, work has been horrendous. It has been just me for a week and a half with another week to go. Last week I had two 11 hour days, five kids groups, four leagues, open bowling, and a general feeling of endlessness. If I never have to work another kids group with glow bowling, I will be very happy. Ain't gonna happen until September, but whatever. We close for renovations Friday and I can't wait.
But I have to get through this week first. And as a warning to everyone, the safety on the bitch switch is off. Open bowling today was okay, but there's that moment of dread that hits at about 1:35 on Mondays when I realize that the Boys and Girls club will be invading. I am not fond of this group. First of all, when they set up their activity, they gave us an estimate of about 20 kids a week but today they had 7. That's been about average. Of course, we did our pricing based on 20 kids so we are getting totally hosed on this deal. Also, even though we quoted and reconfirmed a rate of $2 per kid, each kid is sent with $5. Not only do our 1's get drained but now all these kids are armed with vending machine money. Oh my fucking God. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if Uptown Girl wasn't there. I call her that not because she's been living in a white-bred world (wh-oa-whoa), but because she looks like a cross between Brittney Murphy and Dakota Fanning. I shit you not. If that hybrid wasn't bad enough, she doesn't fully form her words when she speaks (a trait I assume was described as "cute" by some drunken aunt and therefore reinforced the behavior) so I'm put even more on edge. Gah.
Then the basketball camp. With the boys age 10-14. Who of course make fun of the way I talk. Fuckers. Aside from trashing the place, the counselors were under the impression that payment was supposed to be collected (we bill, so no). Unfortunately, the counselors are not helping in the fight against the "dumb jock" stereotype. They decided the best way to collect payment was to use a plastic bag to actually collect the cash and have everybody get in line to pay at the end. As soon as they started their announcement I said to myself "Nope. That idea is not going to work." And it didn't. Not that it matters to me since, like I said, they aren't paying directly and I think it is more of a scam than anything else. How that basketball camp has stayed in business is beyond me.
Four days to go. Gotta make it to Friday.
Try not to write anything unfavorable about a game show contestant on the interwebs -- it can be far more annoying than it is worth. VH1's second edition of its awesome summer series The World Series of Pop Culture started this week and I have been fairly active in the conversation about it over at TWoP. This show only has a single thread rather than a forum, so all discussion -- be it the reactions to an episode, clarification about questions, and chatting among past and present contestants -- is confined to the same space. On the first night, there was a category requiring players to identify 80's songs from a given lyric. One contestant, rather than take a wild guess when it was her turn, opted to use the excuse that she wasn't born until 1982, therefore she didn't know the answers. This caused a minor shitstorm about strategy, "easy" questions, and the inevitable "How did she get on the show?" The arguments go as follows:
A. This player/team sucks (based on personality traits)
B. Those players/teams are awesome (based on knowledge)
A. They may know their stuff, but I don't want to be locked in a room with them.
B. I don't see you trying out to be on the show.
Repeat as Unnecessary.
As an added challenge, the actual contestants have started to post in the thread (the episodes were taped a couple months ago). I mentioned in one of my posts that I didn't particularly care for one team, that I thought they "bugged" during their exit interview (they were eliminated) and that ruffled the feathers of one of the people on the team who posts. What followed was essentially a call for an inquisition on all the "haters". That is so Jenny Jones I don't even know where to begin.
It is so trivial...yet I feel compelled to write about it.
Speaking of trivia, an interesting thing happened at work today. The Friday City Recreation "group" (two kids "supervised" by two adults) was bowling and the adults were engaged in a round of Bible trivia. Let's break this down. "Trivia", by definition, is "useless knowledge". Now, those who excel at Bible trivia would have to know the book pretty, for lack of a better word, religiously. Yet would those who excel at Bible trivia ever call it "useless knowledge"?
This is what happens when I'm left unsupervised with my own thoughts.
From the Steve and Edie cover of "Saw Her Standing There" to the going over, this was the most ridiculous finale ever. Why did the Idol contestants get so little screen time? When will the sound guy get fired? Even Kelly was off tonight -- not good. Why does Taylor dance like Jackie Rogers Jr.? Why did Bette Midler sound like Mae West?
Okay, those last two aren't the show's fault, but they enabled them by providing a venue.
I suppose the only good thing about tonight was that the final medley may be an indication that a Beatles night might happen next season. Yay? Speaking of, why didn't LaKisha get the line "I get high with a little help from my friends"?
This season seemed promising, but even the confetti at the end didin't register with me -- and confetti always registers with me. Sigh.
The only thing that made this finale more endless was the local news' top story being about a girl who got shot in the face a few months ago and was voted prom queen and the multiple ads for the story. I'm not happy with TV at the moment.
