Must See TV

Discovered a fabulous TV show this evening - 30 Days, which was created by Morgan Spurlock, the same guy who brought us the movie Supersize Me (which is also a must see in my opinion).

In a nutshell the show forces someone to go 100% outside of their comfort zone for 30 days. This evening a Christian from West Virginia is living life as a Muslim in Dearborn, Michigan for 30 days. The true beauty of the show is that it takes just normal, everday people and puts them in this situation. It's not the most fundamentalist, who are going to clash with ANYONE they come into contact with, but just regular guys living their regular lives who are being asked to take a walk in someone else's shoes for a spell.

Throughout the show it's interspersed with Morgan interviewing people about their stereotypes and presenting facts about the topic under discussion.

What's strange to me is just regular life to someone else. It's already been programmed into the TiVo, and I expect the Sweetie and I will make this a regular part of our TV viewing routine.

Wig Wednesdays

In a show of solidarity for a co-worker who's going through chemo right now, the office has instituted "Wig Wednesdays" - in which everyone in the office is asked to wear a wig.

I went to the party shop last night to pick out a little something. Decided to go blonde, because a wig is the only way I'll get to try out blonde hair.

Lesson #1: The picture on the outside of the package does not necessarily resemble the product inside. The photo was a cute little flip a la Mary Tyler Moore. The product inside was much more Ellie Mae from the Beverly Hillbillies.

Lesson #2: Swankette is not a blonde. There's too much pink in my skin, and it just looks wrong. One of the co-workers said she thought if my eyebrows weren't dark brown it wouldn't look that bad. She was wrong.

I'm glad that I don't have to wear a wig every day of the week. Couldn't even manage to keep it on all day. Headphones and wigs just don't mix.

The co-worker who doesn't have a choice has two different wigs right now, may get more. One of the wigs is "perky" and the other one is "feisty." They're like a very visible mood ring - oh no, she's wearing the bitch wig today! Look out! It TOTALLY SUCKS that she's going through this, so we've all got to try to put a bright face on it somehow.

There was also a cleopatra wig that caught my eye at the party shop last night. May go pick it up for next Wednesday.

Diamondvision

Went to the Mariner's game tonight. They sucked. Although, according to the post-game show we were listening to on sports radio it wasn't that bad because when Richie Sexson hit into those two double plays - well, he hit the ball REALLY HARD.

But that's not what's newsworthy about tonight's game. The big news is that Sweetie and I were on the Diamondvision. OK, it's because of the teenagers in front of us who were OBSESSED with calling as much attention to themselves as possible, but the fact still stands that my face was up there. And yet I didn't feel compelled to scream and yell and dance around.

But more entertaining than seeing us all on the diamondvision was seeing what trained seals these girls were. There was a loud crowd of boys sitting directly behind us. Bottom of the ninth inning and, silly fools that we fans are, we've got the rally caps out and are thinking perhaps the Mariners could escape for their suckiness for just one moment and manage a win. Jose Lopez takes the plate. The guys behind us start cheering for J. Lo. (I give the sound guy credit for that one, as he brought Lopez out to the plate with a Jennifer Lopez song earlier in the evening). It started a lovely little call and response with the drunk guy and the teenage girl shouting out J. Lo's name.

Jeremy Reed was up next. Sweetie tried a little call and response for J. Re -- and the teenage girls ran with it!

Oh man, the Mariners have reached all new levels of suckiness when your entertainment at the game is the gullibility of a teenage girl.

Girl, You'll Be a Woman Soon

I believe, at the tender age of 33, I might have finally have made it out of puberty.

For 2/3 of my life I have battled acne. In high school and college I would occassionally go on courses of accutane, but that stuff is EXPENSIVE (last time I was on it was about 10 years ago and it ran over $200/month at the time). Also, with more common usage of the drug and my original dermatologist's retirement circa 1993 the hoops you must jump through have become quite ridiculous. Last time I went on the drug (with a new dermatologist and a chaste lifestyle) I had to take a pregnancy test, promise not to become pregnant, and I'm really surprised she didn't force me onto birth control just to make sure I wasn't some moron that didn't understand how babies got made. (Accutane can cause HORRIBLE birth defects in babies, so you don't want to have a baby while on the drug) Nowadays if I found need to go back on the drug they'd probably either force Sweetie and myself to move to different states or require a tubal ligation before they'd write the prescription.

BUT THAT'S NOT NECESSARY!

For the past 22 years of my life I don't think a day has gone by without either a zit or chapstick on my face (chapstick required when you're on the anti-acne drugs). Hormones exacerbate this. Stress exacerbates this. Given the hormones in my system at the moment and the wedding being a month and a half away (no, no stress here) me entire face should be one, giant pimple.

But no, the complexion is clear. To the extent that both my Mom and Sweetie commented on my clear skin recently. I think I've finally passed my adolesence.

I'm very excited about this, but it's a little bit creepy that it's happening so close to the wedding. Had I known this would be a side benefit of getting married I might have looked for Mr. Right a lot harder in my twenties.

But I don't want to jinx it. Now I fear I'll have an enormous zit on the end of my nose for the wedding.

Super Swank Song Stylings

There is a CD that has surpassed William Shatner in the Super Swank factor in the collection now. I've had it for a week, but it hasn't made it into the house before today, so that's why you're first hearing about it now.

The CD is Rock Swings by Paul Anka - in which he takes popular songs from the 1980's forward and sings them in his own Swank style. If you're familiar with the CD Loungeapalooza (another favorite at the House of Swank) it is definitely of a similar vein, but Paul's cover of Blackhole Sun way rocks it over Steve & Eydie's - which surprised me, since I really dig Steve & Eydie's version.

I've really only got one complaint, and that's that a couple of times Mr. Anka diverts from the original lyrics, which impedes the sing-alongability of the songs. But I'm even willing to forgive him for that. One time it happens is in the song "True" (originally by Spandau Ballet), and it's been long enough since I've listened to the song and for all I know I could have had the words wrong all these years. The other instance is in "Smells Like Teen Spirit" (yes, he does Nirvana), in which he replaces the four-letter words with something more innocuous. I KNOW I've got the lyrics right there, but I guess I can see why he wouldn't want to sing naughty words.

And now I've got a sneaking suspicion American IV by Johnny Cash may be making it into the collection soon. (I've alrady got American III).

Who Put the Sugar in My Aspartame?

The fine folks at QFC must be reading my blog, because when I went in there Friday night to pick something up for dinner Coca-Cola Zero had made it into the cooler. I went ahead and bought a bottle to give it a tatse test.

Basically, it's a mix of Coke and Diet Coke. It's got the sickeningly-over-sweetness of Coke with that aspartame twist in the aftertaste.

Personally, I don't care for Coke's flavor. Wouldn't drink it if it had zero calories, so I don't see any value in this product. But perhaps there's some out there.

The Latest Marketing Scam

Me, I was a marketing major in college. I once had a dream of finding a position that allowed me to do product placement in movies. I've worked for a baseball team in which we would sell just about anything out for a sponsorship opportunity. Would the world be a more peaceful place without all this marketing being slammed down our throats? Yeah, probably. But I like it when people have jobs, and in order to have jobs businesses need to operate, and in many instances for businesses to continue to operate they need to market their products to people. It's all part of the circle of life.

But I'm sorry, it's gone too far. Coca-Cola has been marketing a new product in our store. Coca-Cola Zero. It's quite ingenious, actually. They took Coke. They removed the calories. Now people on diets can still have a Coke and a smile.

Except I seem to recall something similar that may have been available previously. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it is known as Diet Coke.

Now recently Diet Coke has been marketing a product sweetened with Splenda instead of your standard aspartame-y goodness. I, myself, have not tried the Splenda version yet, as I've been perfectly happy with my Diet Coke old-school, so don't feel a need to go changing. When I first encountered Coca Cola Zero at the store I thought, perhaps, that they were going to brand this new variety of Diet Coke under this brand name. That way there'd be no confusion for those of us who lived through the whole New Coke/Classic Coke fiasco of the late 1980's and don't want to go through that whole battle with our diet soft drink of choice. But no, Coca-Cola Zero is also sweetened with aspartame.

I'm perplexed. Yet intrigued. I haven't yet caved and bought a bottle of the stuff. I almost did today, but it wasn't in the cooler, just on floor display, and neither drinking it warm nor waiting for it to chill were viable options for me this evening.

Next up: Coca-Cola Zero Squared. It will have zero calories AND zero caffeine. I mean, no one's thought of that yet.

Good Workout CD #5

Disclaimer the First: A CD which falls in the category of "Good Workout CD" does not, by definition, fall in the category of "Good CD." All the previous CDs which qualified as "Good Workout CD" have ALSO qualified as "Good CD," but today the tides are turning.

Disclaimer the Second: The CD in question was bought as a gag Christmas gift for the Sweetie for one, specific track. If you know the Sweetie you can probably figure it out. Otherwise, I am confident in saying this CD wouldn't be under consideration for this project.

Peaked your curiosity, haven't I? Well, the most recent Good Workout CD is The Best of Annette by Annette Funicello. Hey, I'm as surprised as you are, but it fits the bill.

First, the songs are short and poppy. Good for keeping you moving.

Second, the songs are easy to sing along to. Easy to keep you distracted.

Third, for me, the song for which the CD was purchased is SO PERFECT that it just gives an extra little oomph.

Fourth, and this is the thing that really pushed this over the edge, track #8 is a tune called Jamaica Ska. It comes about 2/3 of the way through the CD. That point in the workout when you're questioning why 30 minutes is the magic number, isn't 20 just good enough? And why do I bother spending all this time on the treadmill anyhow? It's the moment that will make it or break it for the remainder of the time you're stuck there.

And then it hits you. Annette Funicello, little Miss Mousketeer, the picture of purity, is teaching you how to ska. Now maybe it's just a matter of my upbringing, but I was taught the ska by my brother in the 1980s, to the tunes of two-tone ska: The Selecter, The Specials, English Beat and Madness. Ska, the parent of Reggae. One step away from Bob Marley and his spliff. And Annette is teaching me how to get down and dirty with it.

And the tune doesn't even have a strong ska beat.

So that's enough of a disconnect that I found myself giggling throughout the song and for most of the remainder of the workout at the silliness of it all.

Although now I'm starting to regret that most of my ska collection is on album rather than CD. May need to fix that. But in the meantime I've got Annette.

Generation Gap

I've been in Portland the last couple of days. I had to come down for the wedding dress fitting, so decided to take a couple of days vacation while the Sweetie is out of town and just chill in preparation for the sprint to the big day.

Tonight the brother came out for dinner, and a lovely time was had by all. That's the crazy brother, who spent a good chunk of my junior high and high school years in and out of drug rehab. Pay attention here: my parents had a son who went through drug rehab. Several times. Of the inpatient and outpatient variety. There was family therapy and al-anon and all other sorts of activities associated with that.

Yet, despite that experience, my parents were shocked - SHOCKED I TELL YOU - to discover that my stoner friend is a stoner. This is the boy with an IQ of about a billion. The boy who was going to go to Duke and Vanderbilt and Cornell and study biomedical engineering. Who has spent the last 10-ish years of his life living in a cheap-ass apartment about 3 credits away from about 10 different college degrees. I actually had to EXPLAIN to my parents that the reason he hadn't cured cancer, AIDS, and the common cold (which I'm totally convinved he has the brainpower to do) was because he was too busy with his weed. Although he is still using his scientific mind. To maximize the harvest from his plants. I'm not quite sure how the explained the total lack of ambition away in their heads. I don't really want to know.

These are, after all, the same parents who, after Sweetie and I had been sharing a 600 square foot 1-bedroom apartment wondered if Sweetie and I were ever going to become "more than friends."

Someday I'll have the nerve to tell them about the time they picked me up at the airport and they thought I was just really, really tired that I was really drunker than I'd ever been in my life, the drunkest I've ever been in fact. How when I went to work the next day I was still a little bit tipsy.

Someday. But not quite yet.

Identify Yourselves!

If you've stumbled across this blog by searching on my real name (first and last) and Bellevue, Washington, please identify yourself. E-mail is fine.

This is the sort of curiosity I don't deal well with.

Living Up to the Name

The 2005 House of Swank Fantasy Baseball Team has two Red Sox on the squad: Kevin Millar and Jason Varitek. Curt Schilling doesn't count because he's got a bum ankle and is just taking up space until I can unload him at the All Star Break.

Millar and Varitek were two of the five Sox featured on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy tonight.

In other words: they've got the Swank part DOWN now. Unfortunately, it would be a lot better if they got the baseball part down. Although, all credit to these two guys, they've been doing a fine job. The rest of the guys not so hot. Maybe I can get the Fab Five to make over the rest of my team.

Prom

I bet not many people can say they dropped their wedding invites off at the post office that morning and went to prom that night. But I can say that. AND I'll be old enough to drink at my wedding reception. That's what happens when you love a teacher.

I'm wearing the same shoes to both events. The same shoes I wore to my high school tenth anniversary. These are obviously event shoes. Which is what happens when you own a pair of strappy silver sandals - you wear them any chance you can. They aren't an everyday shoe.

Sweetie's obsessed with whether or not I'll put out. But if he really loves me he won't pressure me, we'll wait until the moment is right.

Now Why Didn't I Think of That?

Today a co-worker, out of the blue, says to me, "Swankette, you should start a blog!"

I quizzed him as to why and his response was, "You've got lots to say."

I mentioned that I have not one, but two blogs. Didn't give him the address, but he may be able to find me. I mentioned the number of people who find my blog by searchinng on the term "muppet porn."

But if he DOES find the site then I'll know that HE was one of those doing that search. Kind of a damned if you do and damned if you don't if you ask me.

The Mariners Suck

I think it's pretty public knowledge, especially in the Northwest, that the Mariners suck this year. Some people may not be willing to admit it, but I have begun to embrace the suck. The Mariners suck so bad that they even suck at their suckiness. As in just when they've hit rock-bottom in their suckitude they start winning games.

I tuned the radio to the game in the 7th or 8th inning this evening. It was a commercial break, and when they returned from break the first thing I heard Dave Niehaus comment on was the vast number of scoring opportunities that had been squandered by the Mariners this evening. Squander is just a synonym for suck, you know. So I begin thinking to myself how bad the Mariners suck and THEN come to discover they're sitting on a 1-0 lead. They won the game 3-0 this evening.

So I've got a new baseball superstition now. Because during this season it seems that when I really start complaining about how the Mariners suck they start putting up good numbers. And then when I change my mind and start to think maybe they aren't that bad after all they go and start sucking again. So you'll hear nothing from my the rest of the season about how good the Mariners are, just about how much they suck.

In some ways this is really tough, because it's not easy to chastise the team you love on a constant basis, but in other ways it is oh-so-easy compared to some baseball traditions.

When I worked for a team we had a lot of superstitions in the press box, but there was one that involved me (directing game ops), the official scorer, a certain pitcher on our team who had not specified warm-up music and the song "Eye of the Tiger." I don't remember all of the subtle nuances, but when the pitcher was in a clutch situation the scorer would come over to where I was sitting and through a very indirect method insist that I play the song as part of the between-inning music. And it may sound silly, but the night of the first-ever nine-inning perfect game in Northwest League history we executed our superstitious little ritual to PERFECTION.

So no more nice words about the Mariners from me. They suck suck suck suck suck suck suck.