. a favorite blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Robin’s on a wedding-induced hiatus. But I chose this teeth rant as my favorite of her blogumns, b/c it’s absolutely true. That’s all. From April 7, 2010 As someone who gets massively geeked out on television, I know as much as the next person that sometimes you have to take what you watch with a grain of salt. It’s called suspension of disbelief, and it allows the viewing audience to accept things like mystical tropical islands with magical time travel powers and ordinary people with extraordinary superpowers. And for the most part, I’m cool with everything my TV shows throw at me, except for one little detail that keeps sticking in my craw… Exceptionally good teeth. Yeah, that’s right. Teeth bug me. Teeth. Particularly, when a character on television has way better teeth than he or she should. I really noticed this a few weeks ago when I was watching the series premiere of Justified on FX. The show follows a rugged lawman played by Timothy Olyphant as he is reassigned to his rural hometown in Kentucky. And although Olyphant has exceptionally good teeth, it wasn’t his that bothered me. It was the ones that belong to his former best friend and current rival Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins), leader of a local backwoods white supremacist gang. Here’s a guy who grew up working the Kentucky mines and is currently a violent moonshine-swiller who entertains himself bombing churches. And yet…and yet…his teeth are straight, sparkling and blindingly white. I enjoy pretty much everything about this show, except for Goggins’ incredibly distracting teeth. I just have a hard time buying that this character makes flossing any sort of priority. About a week later, I settled in to watch a...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig I like beer. But more often than not, I’m too cheap to spring for expensive import or craft beers. Quite frankly, on a hot summer day, sometimes there’s nothing better than a cool and refreshing domestic light beer. But which one should I choose? Unfortunately, as of late, advertising for some of the big names in beer don’t do anything to help me understand how good they taste. In fact, they do everything they can to dance around the flavor issue – and sometimes to a comical degree. I’ll start with Coors and Coors Light, whose recent ad campaign focuses not on the fresh flavor coming direct from the Rockies. Instead, it’s about the Cold Activation Window, which is in essence just a hole in the cardboard case so you can touch the can and know whether or not it’s cold. Ooh! Ahh! Uhh…really? So let me get this right – we, as humans, are incapable of figuring out the difference between a warm and cold can and need special technology (aka a hole in the box) to let us know that our beers are chilled. Sure, it’s convenient to be able to reach through the case to touch a can to know if it’s cold, but that said, I’ve never had problems with knowing when my beer is or is not cold. Maybe I’m just too old school for this futuristic Coors Cold Activation Window technology. And while you’re at it, get the hell off of my lawn! Let’s move on to the Miller Brewing Company, who recently introduced the Miller Lite Vortex Bottle. The folks behind the epic 80’s “great taste – less filling” campaign are now trying to sell us on a special bottle with...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig I just returned home from lovely Del Mar, California after spending three glorious days at the San Diego County Fair, and can now state with confidence that the county fair as it currently exists may stand alone as the singularly most Wonderfully Awful way to spend a day (or weekend). Now, before you all smack me upside the head with a deafeningly loud collective “DUH”, let me just back this up by saying that it’s been a good five plus years since I’ve set foot at a county fair. Prior to that, I was an annual attendee of the Big Fresno Fair. I still own a roller skate belt buckle that I picked up at that very fair that provides way more significance in my life today than I ever could have imagined when I paid $13 for it back in the ‘90’s. That said, I think the fair has changed a bit since then. Or maybe I should say the food has changed. Mutated. Become freakishly insane. Yeah, that about covers it. My memory of fair food is that although one could expect everything to be deep fried, it was still normal food being deep fried. Fried chicken and fried zucchini and the like, joined by your standard corn dog and funnel cake fare. Now it’s like some kind of contest to come up with the most frightening deep fried culinary creations possible. The giant Charlie’s Chicken stand, aside from offering up fried chicken and waffles, boasted some of the most interesting dessert options at the fair, including deep fried Klondike Bars and Pop Tarts. But after walking down another couple of booths, I stumbled upon the inarguable king of the deep fried creations – FRIED BUTTER. Yeah, I...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig I know people who write books. And I think that makes me pretty special. Sure, I didn’t do anything in particular to have anyone look upon me with any sort of admiration. But I know people who write books. I can introduce you to those people and say, “Hey, have you met my friend? She has a book coming out!” And you’d think, wow, that’s pretty cool. And I’d be standing next to you both, feeling all awesome because I created that little moment. Do you want to meet the people I know who write books? I think you do. Meet Shauna Cross. She wrote a young adult novel which was then turned into a movie called Whip It directed by Drew Barrymore and starring Ellen Page. She wrote the screenplay, too. It’s a coming-of-age story about a small town Texas teen who finds a place she can truly belong within the world and culture of roller derby. I know Shauna from the time she spent as a roller derby skater with the L.A. Derby Dolls, and many story elements in both the book and movie were taken from the early history of the league. I like to think of the story as my own life story. You know, if you replaced the Texas teen with a 29-year old from California. Same diff, right? Meet Pamela Ribon: derby skater, blogger, and published author. Her latest novel, Going in Circles, tells the story of a woman facing the emotional aftermath of the breakdown of her marriage, and finding new strength via the world and culture of roller derby. Sure, it’s a familiar topic, at least in the context of this particular blog. But as someone who plays the sport and knows...

Los Angeles is a strange and magical city. It’s a place where you can turn a corner and stumble onto a film set. It’s where you can be assured to run into a celebrity every single time you go to see a movie at a particular theater. And it’s the one and only city where, on a weekly basis, Joe Average Citizen can attend a workout class led by the one and only Richard Simmons on the cheap. Wait, what? Yeah, I said Richard Simmons. As in, the world-renowned fitness guru with the untamed ‘fro, sparkly tank tops and Dolphin shorts. THAT Richard Simmons. Three days a week, Simmons holds workout classes open to the public at his Slimmons Studio in Beverly Hills. Classes are just $12, and are quite possibly one of the best kept secrets in Los Angeles. Although methinks the secret is getting out. Me also thinks I’m not really helping to keep it secret at the moment. But I don’t really care, because working out with Richard Simmons might be one of the most fun things to do in L.A., if not the universe. Throughout the years that I have lived in L.A., I have periodically heard about friends who have taken this class. But it wasn’t until the Saturday of Easter weekend that I finally found my way over to the Slimmons Studio. I arrived early, and as I stood in the waiting area, it started filling with people. By the time class was about to begin, the lobby was packed from end to end. And at the stroke of 11:15am, the doors to the studio flew open, music blasted out, and the giant lot of us ran in and instantly started dancing. Simmons has built a reputation as...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig It’s been a while since we checked in with the wide variety of personalities that live just outside of my fiance’s and my apartment window. Let’s see what’s new and what’s not so new with the people in the neighborhood. (For reference, I suggest you check in with my previous blog on this topic.) Sexytime moved out, which sadly means that we are no longer treated to catching uncomfortable glances out the window at a neighbor’s brazen nudity. The Ogre has been somewhat tamed, thanks to a couple of letters to the apartment manager that may or may not have been written by us (they were). Although he’s calm for the most part, there are times when we can tell that he simply cannot contain his anger and we hear a short outburst followed by several minutes of him clanging his pots and pans. Apparently, these days, The Ogre likes to take his rage out on his kitchenware. And now, I’d like to introduce the newest additions to the neighborhood: Stoney  1 and Stoney 2. Stoney 1 lives in the building across from us and our window overlooks his balcony. And the dude pretty much lives on his balcony, as do all of his friends. When they are on their patio, their voices carry in such a way that it sounds like they are in our living room. And did I mention that they are always on their patio and that reggae music and certain…odors…are often right there with them? An even more recent addition to the ‘hood is Stoney 2. He lives directly underneath us, and his window faces Stoney 1’s balcony. Within the last week, I have come to realize that Stoney 1 and Stoney 2...

We all have our vices. Everyone has a little something that they know is bad for them, but they love it so much that they have a hard time picturing their lives without it. Some may even take their vices to the point of addiction. There are your standards – booze, cigarettes, drugs, etc. And then there’s mine. I don’t smoke, am drug free and only drink occasionally. I don’t even like chocolate. But I have this one thing that I know is terrible for me, but it brings me an insane amount of joy every time I have it. So what’s my vice? Raviolios are my vice. Now let’s be clear here. Yes, I’m talking about ravioli in a can. But I’m not talking about Chef Boyardee. Every time I talk about how much I love Raviolios, someone inevitably gives me a can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli. Don’t get me wrong – I like Chef Boyardee and I will eat the hell out of it. But it doesn’t give me that extra cracky feeling that can only come from the authentic Raviolio product. For those that are unfamiliar, Raviolios used to be made by a company called Franco American. They are, perhaps, best known for ubiquitous Spaghettios (aka the spaghetti you can eat with a spoon!). Although the origin of when and how Raviolios came to be is a bit unknown, they are presumably something of a spinoff of the original Spaghettios product. The Joanie Loves Chachi to the Spaghettios Happy Days, if you will. Or maybe more like the Three’s a Crowd to the Spaghettios Three’s Company, meaning the latter never did achieve the popularity and timelessness of the former. As a child, I liked Spaghettios but I LOVED Raviolios. And that...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig As someone who gets massively geeked out on television, I know as much as the next person that sometimes you have to take what you watch with a grain of salt. It’s called suspension of disbelief, and it allows the viewing audience to accept things like mystical tropical islands with magical time travel powers and ordinary people with extraordinary superpowers. And for the most part, I’m cool with everything my TV shows throw at me, except for one little detail that keeps sticking in my craw… Exceptionally good teeth. Yeah, that’s right. Teeth bug me. Teeth. Particularly, when a character on television has way better teeth than he or she should. I really noticed this a few weeks ago when I was watching the series premiere of Justified on FX. The show follows a rugged lawman played by Timothy Olyphant as he is reassigned to his rural hometown in Kentucky. And although Olyphant has exceptionally good teeth, it wasn’t his that bothered me. It was the ones that belong to his former best friend and current rival Boyd Crowder (Walton Goggins), leader of a local backwoods white supremacist gang. Here’s a guy who grew up working the Kentucky mines and is currently a violent moonshine-swiller who entertains himself bombing churches. And yet…and yet…his teeth are straight, sparkling and blindingly white. I enjoy pretty much everything about this show, except for Goggins’ incredibly distracting teeth. I just have a hard time buying that this character makes flossing any sort of priority. About a week later, I settled in to watch a highly anticipated episode of Lost which promised to explain the back story of the island’s resident ageless wonder Richard Alpert. (Caution: spoilerish details ahead.) We were taken back...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Now that I’ve been a proud iPhone owner for approximately four months, I like to consider myself a bit of an expert. I can now recommend a variety of Very Important Apps, such as Service Bell (Need assistance? No service bell handy? Bring your own and annoy those who are there to help you!), iPity (because everyone needs a Mr. T phrase generator) and Cat Piano (A piano that sounds like cats! LOLZ!). That said, there is one app that you should never ever download, and I will do everything in my power to convince you to avoid at all costs. And that, my friends, is the Cracked Screen App. My Cracked Screen App story started at a roller derby after party (naturally). My goofy friends and I also decided that night would be one of our periodic Caturday celebrations where we would all dress up in silly cat clothes. And to aid in the celebration, one friend went to the 99 Cents Only store and purchased cat mugs for us all to use for any beer drinking that would (and did) commence. When I left the party, I shoved the cat mug into an already packed tote bag and rode home with my fiancé. Once home, I grabbed my overflowing tote bag only to see the cat mug precariously perched. Worried that it might fall out and break, I directed my attention to the tote bag to ensure everything was safe and in place. And in the process, I neglected to notice that the iPhone in my jacket pocket was in danger. Seconds later, I heard it hit the ground…face down. When I picked it up, my heart sank as I saw the entire screen had shattered....

Whatta fierce and nerdy week! Here are my thoughts: 1. I just love that France requires a chest x-ray from its would-be citizens. I wonder why… 2. Poor Robin actually asked me if it was okay to self-promote on the blog, and I answered something along the lines of “Absolutely not, b/c I don’t believe in it — especially when it comes to my own projects.” Then she profusely apologized and rewrote her piece before I could tell her that I was just kidding. Luckily, she had the original saved, but I really do wish there was a a way to indicate sarcasm in email.  I think it would be cool to just be able to indicate sarcasm with a ~ mark after the sentence that you don’t really mean. What do you think? Anywho, if you have a second, use it to help Robin and her fiance get a free wedding from Crate & Barrel. 3. Monique’s piece on David Patterson got me to thinking about how so few of us have good back-up plans for anything b/c we just don’t think we’ll ever need them. I guess one good result of being cynical, morbid, and anxious is that I have (at the very least mental) back-up plans for just about everything. That’s the only way I can function day-to-day. 4. What’s funny is that Amy has never struck me as particularly shy. But then again, so many people, including my sister and BFF, have accused me of not being shy, even though I often proclaim that I am. My BFF is not shy and my sister is much shyer than I am. But I do wonder if we all just have a general inability to recognize shyness in others. I feel that...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig As I continue to plan my upcoming nuptials, I’m getting to that point where anything and everything wedding-related that I see interests me. I already mentioned my obsession with Say Yes to the Dress in a previous blog. And that’s all well and good, but now I may have sunk to a new low. Despite having never watched an episode of the Jason Mesnick season of The Bachelor, I still felt an overwhelming need to see The Bachelor: Jason and Molly’s Wedding (and insisted that my fiancé watch it with me…I’m terrible). For the uninitiated or pop culture deficient, two seasons ago on The Bachelor – in the most shocking conclusion yet – Jason Mesnick gave his final rose to Melissa Rycroft but then called backsies on After the Final Rose and dumped her on TV so he could get together with runner up Melissa Mulaney. A year and a half later, they got married – becoming only the second couple in 14 seasons of The Bachelor and 5 seasons of The Bachelorette to tie the knot. Now, as a bride-to-be myself, I’m not really watching this because I’m all sentimental about love and marriage and junk. I’m watching to see (and be jealous of) the insane amount of free stuff that is lavished upon this couple simply because they are making an attempt to show that The Bachelor franchise is successful once in a blue moon. To the best of my memory, I saw Jason and Molly receive: free celebrity wedding planning and design, hair by Ken Paves (Jessica Simpson’s hair stylist) and a celeb makeup artist, a custom dress by Monique Lhuillier (and assistance from Lhuillier herself), free shoes for the entire bridal party, a friggin’ gift bag...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Dear Advertising Agencies of America: who hurt you? Why does it seem like you hate women all of a sudden? I ask because I’ve noticed a recent trend in television commercials in which women are portrayed as everything from shrill, annoying harpies to the keys to the downfall of man. Let’s analyze, shall we? Of course, there’s no better place to start than Super Bowl Sunday. Millions of Americans gather around their televisions on this one day not just to see the NFL championship game, but to also see highly anticipated commercial unveilings. And although I understand that the overwhelming target audience is men, it seems that advertisers this year forgot that women were even watching at all. The biggest culprit earned the distinction of being Exhibit A, and for the purposes of this examination I will call it Your Life Totally Sucks, Dude, But Hey, At Least You Have Your Precious Dodge: So let me get this straight – with a sad, pathetic, blank face, the men of America will put up with year after year of annoying woman crap because, in return, they get to drive the car of their dreams? And that car is…a Dodge? Wow, that annoying woman crap must really break you down, fellas, if your dream car has been reduced to a Dodge. I suppose that part of the annoying woman crap that you deal with on a day-to-day basis is her telling you that you can’t afford a more high-end sports car. And you will accept that with a blank face so that you will settle for driving as fast as your Dodge allows. Oh, and while you’re out in your Dodge, can you stop at the store and pick up...

My fiancé and I have this fun ritual every time we fly somewhere. As soon as we get on the plane, we grab the latest SkyMall catalog out of the seat pocket and start perusing to find out what new and ridiculous items they’ve added since we last flew somewhere. For those who aren’t familiar, SkyMall is a company that mostly markets mostly to air travelers, and sells a wide variety of overpriced items that often straddle the line between futuristic cool and truly baffling. On one flight years before my fiancé proposed, he and I were thumbing through the catalog to giggle once again about the cat litter box shaped like a plant, and the idea came up that when we decided to get married, we should create a registry at SkyMall. I don’t know whether or not he was joking at the time, but I took the idea pretty seriously. Considering our senses of humor, it pretty much made perfect sense. We haven’t flown anywhere for quite a while, so the fella and I hadn’t really discussed the SkyMall registry idea since we got engaged. Then last Friday, my fiancé received news that he had been laid off from his job. Since that meant that we would be both be unemployed for the first time since we’ve known each other, it would have been easy to immediately switch over to panic mode. But he had a better idea: instead of panicking, let’s go on to the SkyMall website and register for the most extravagant, outrageous and insanely expensive stuff we could possibly find. So on our first day of mutual unemployment, we spent the afternoon creating a high end, mostly useless wedding wishlist (since SkyMall doesn’t technically have a registry). And I must say...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig As the holiday season kicked in, many of my favorite scripted television shows went on a nice, long hiatus. As a result, I’ve been given a lengthy chance to catch up on some of my old favorites from reality television-land, as well as get to know some shows I hadn’t yet discovered.  Sure, Jersey Shore is on that list, but anything that needs to be said about that show has already been said and/or fist pumped.  So let’s take a moment to discuss what else has been making appearances on my so-bad-it’s-good reality TV radar. Steven Seagal: Lawman At first glance, one would think that Steven Seagal: Lawman is one of those contrived shows putting someone in an unlikely profession for the sole purpose of zany hijinks ensuing, much like that VH1 classic New York Goes To Work. But the apparent story here is that about 20 years ago – about the time that Seagal’s film career started to go to the direct-to-DVD route, he joined the Jefferson Parish, Louisiana sheriff’s department. And he’s been rolling with them ever since, up to and including the time that A&E sent their cameras along for the ride. The result is a show worthy of its own drinking game. Here’s how it works: take a drink every time Seagal’s driving partner Col. John Fortunado seems exasperated by Seagal’s chattiness. Take a drink when Seagal has one of his E.S.P. (as in Extra Seagal Perception) moments where he sees criminal activity and the camera flashes to show something very specific that only Seagal can see.  And finally, take a drink every time Seagal mentions he’s been practicing martial arts for 20 years. You’ll be practically chugging every episode from this one alone....

I’m not going to lie – when it comes time to write this blog, sometimes I really struggle and, at times, come up blank when trying to think up a topic. One would think there would be an endless supply of Wonderfully Awful things in this world to write about, but now. However, once in a great while, a topic falls from the sky like manna from heaven and just plops right in my lap. Thankfully, today’s idea didn’t just fall into my lap, but rather crashed like the Hindenburg and created a nuclear explosion-level mushroom cloud of Wonderfully Awful fallout. I’m talking about the CBS Cares Holiday Pap Smear Campaign. I don’t know if that’s what it’s called, but that’s what I’ll call it for now. I can just imagine being snuggled up with my fiancé next to a toasty fireplace and twinkling tree. He hands me a gift and as I open it says, “I hope you like it.” As I pull off the wrapping and open the box, I see a gift certificate for the local women’s clinic. “Good for One (1) Pap Smear” is written across it. At that moment, I tell him that the engagement is off and storm off. Not exactly my holiday dream. By the way, pap smears as gifts are not just limited to those who celebrate Christmas. Jewish women, rejoice, as you may be receiving eight checkups for your lady parts, thanks to this Hanukkah-specific PSA: Sure, the intentions are good and CBS’s heart is in the right place when it comes to this campaign. But I’m pretty sure I speak for most women here when (1) for a number of reasons, we prefer to not have pap smears compared to cream cheese and (2)...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Sasquatch (n): (1) Large, hairy, mythical human-like beastly creature said to be found in the North American wilderness. (2) Large, hairy, mythical human-like beastly creature said to be found at roller derby games in the greater Los Angeles area. (3) Brightly colored furry leg warmers. The idea of the existence of Sasquatch has been the stuff of legends for several centuries.  Sasquatch has been a part of my life for approximately three years. I first spotted the supposedly mythical beast during a roller derby game in downtown Los Angeles. OK, so I don’t actually remember seeing him, but it is abundantly clear that the sightings have repeatedly taken place, as can be easily seen in this photographic evidence. Some may say that I simply make unattractive faces when playing a high impact, full contact sport such as roller derby. I say nay to such theories. Nay, I say! As I continued to collect the photos exhibiting my clear and obvious Sasquatch sightings, my interest in the big-footed creature continued to grow. I began to wonder about what drew him to roller derby. Was he a fan of women beating up on each other? Was he drawn to the appeal of hiding out within a large crowd and, therefore, being able to take in an exciting form of entertainment without being discovered? Does he love beer and corn dogs? Then, during a trip to Las Vegas, I found my answer. I was watching the Beatles-themed Cirque du Soleil show Love when I made my greatest discovery. “Help” was playing, at which point in the show, four mop-topped skaters performed daring feats atop a giant half pipe. Though they were dressed to appear as if they were the Fab Four,...

What an awesome week! Sami got her baby back on Days of Our Lives and Al Gore was on 30 Rock. Plus I’m in the middle of a really good book. Seriously could life be any better? HELLO FRIDAY re: FIERCE ANTICIPATION: November 13-15, in which Ryan Dixon dissed both 2012 and Cincinnati. Kyle: I just watched 2012 at midnight last night, and it was like 10,000 time better than I thought it would be, I actually kind of enjoyed it. Cincinnati has Graeter’s ice cream, and unless you have tried that you can’t really say anything bad about Cincinnati. I had to bribe a security guard at the school post office to brake in so that the ice cream my grandma send me would not melt… it was the best money I ever spent. PHILOSOPHICAL MONDAY re: Tall Drink of Nerd: Bonding Over Board Games, in which Amy Robinson confessed that she hails from a family of cold-hearted trash talkers and solicited suggestions for more board games for them diss each other over. (Thought) Chuck: My brother turned me on to “Settlers of Catan” and that’s a really fun one – too bad it’s only good for 4 players (6 with the expansion set.) Another one we played this weekend which we enjoyed a lot was “Bang” – it’s a spaghetti western card game where outlaws and renegades try to shoot the sherrif and vice versa. We played with about 10 people and it was hysterical. We also played a farming strategy game called “Agricola” which was cute. Another fun one that is similar is “Guillotine” – a card game where you collect nobles from a line of people on their way to be executed. You can play cards that screw other players...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig It was late Friday night, and my fiancé and I were lying around catching up on television shows that had been piling up in our TiVo all week. When the clock struck midnight, he said “Happy birthday” and handed me a small gift bag. I opened the bag and found the gift every girl dreams of…particularly if that girl had been carrying around a bare-bones, scratched-up, battery-held-in-by-nothing-but-duct-tape cell phone. It was a gift card for an iPhone! I’ve never in my life gotten a phone that wasn’t free, never mind a fancy phone. It’s probably for the best as I’m the person who lets her phone fall out of her pocket only to accidentally run over it with her car (true story). But all of that didn’t stop me from coveting the almighty iPhone. Unfortunately, my FUNemployment income didn’t jive with the idea of spending money on a new phone, so I had been trying my best to be content with Ol’ Duct Tapey, pathetic as it was. Thankfully, my dear fiancé came to my rescue. The next morning, I dashed off to the mall to pick up my phone. Once at the Apple Store, I was nearly thwarted by large crowds (seriously, is the Apple Store ever NOT crowded?) and a minor server crash. But eventually, I had my brand new iPhone in hand and I couldn’t be happier. Because I wanted to protect my baby, my next step was to get a cover. I wandered over to a kiosk that sells phone accessories and picked out a cover. As I took my phone out of its box, it immediately  SLID OUT AND FELL TO THE GROUND. I had been an iPhone mama for all of five...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig So I’m just going to come out and say it…I love to shop. However, as someone who has been FUNemployed for quite some time now, I have discovered that it’s not always (or ever) in my best interest to indulge in the joys of a productive trip to the mall. So I try to refrain as much as possible. The exception, of course, is when I  stumble upon a good deal or, perhaps even, a hidden oasis of bargains. And that’s exactly what happened last weekend when I found myself at a swap meet in the hot Arizona desert. It started with a road trip to Tucson to play in a roller derby game. I was carpooling with friends on the long and intensely boring 8+ hour drive from Los Angeles. We arrived at about 8:00p.m. and were a bit groggy from the many hours on the road, but quickly perked up when we started to pass by what looked like a carnival. There were children’s rides and bright lights, cars were packed along the dirt-lined roadside, and people were darting across the street – traffic be damned – to get to whatever this magical place was. We passed by the sign, and it read: TANQUE VERDE SWAP MEET. We instantly wanted to go, but hunger and exhaustion eventually won out that night. However, the vision of this magical place lingered in our minds, so we made it our mission to visit the next day. It was the best decision we could have possibly made. The place was lined with a multitude of booths offering a huge variety of goods at a dirt cheap price. As we strolled through, we noticed that the items generally fell into one...

Good Gawd, mama’s tired. Miss Betty is calling herself trying to cut a tooth, and she has been letting us know that she’s not happy about this situation at various times in the morning for like two nights now. Not cool, man. Not cool. But at least the comments did us right this weeked. Check ’em out! HELLO FRIDAY re: Fierce Anticipation: Sept. 18-20, in which Ryan Dixon rhapsodized about his love for Buffalo Wild Wings, which thankfully has opened a location in Burbank as of Monday, Sept. 21st. Ronnn: Ryan: I cannot believe that you like Buffalo Wild Wings over the awesome Quaker Steak & Lube Wings, or the huge Coney wings in downtown Indiana. PHILOSOPHICAL MONDAY re: Three Line Lunch: Red Waits, in which Jeff Rogers waxes poetic about his dog, Red, who is nearly blind and deaf, but continues to wait for him by the door, even though he often can’t see or hear him come in. marsha: sniff. and smile. at the same time. thank you for this OH, IT’S TUESDAY re: Political Physics: Will the Christian Right Be the Death of the Republican Party?, in which Monique King-Viehland wonders if the Republican Party is getting eaten alive by its right-wing, Christian base. CH: I do wonder if the Goldwater Republicans and Blue dog Democrats shouldn’t start a third party that reflects [their] views? It seems like both of them are being marginalized by the current system. WOW, IT’S WEDNESDAY re: Wonderfully Awful: Kitty Poop Chronicles, in which Robin Rosenzweig chronicled her cat’s battle with diarrhea puddles, which he made all over the apartment. Good times. AmyQOTWF: When our cat KoE had her glands expressed, she had the worst diarrhea. She would be laying next to me and get that...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig It started with a turd on my yoga mat. My cat Olly had been known to occasionally poop outside of his litter box, so I cleaned it up, disinfected the mat and went on with my life. Then he did it again. And again. And then I started noticing more and more “presents” all around my apartment. Not just ordinary kitty turds, either. More like…puddles. It was becoming abundantly and quite messily clear that Olly had diarrhea. And when a wave came on, there was no way in hell he was going to make it to his litter box. I called the vet, but they weren’t able to see him for a couple days, so I continued to monitor the situation. Generally, he would just lay about the house. But then, he’d get up quickly and moan. Then he’d pop a squat on the floor, and with a pained expression on his kitty face, his butt would make a sound similar to a mostly empty ketchup bottle being squeezed…and out would come a little brown puddle. Finally, he’d go back to lying around. Rinse and repeat. One time, I even saw him walk up to his litter box, look at it, and then walk a few more steps before squatting and pooping on the ground right next to the box. When it was time for my vet appointment, I walked in, cat carrier in one hand, baggie filled with a fresh stool sample that I scraped up from my floor using a plastic spoon in the other. When they checked him out, he seemed relatively normal. But then they said the dreaded words: we’d like to express his anal glands. Now Olly has had this done before and...

Guys, I’m SO sorry, but we’re at serious sixes and sevens today, so we’ll once again have limited content. But Monday, we’ll totally (okay somewhat) have it together. I super-promise! That all vowed, here are the best comments and quotes of the week: HELLO FRIDAY re: FIERCE ANTICIPATION: August 21-23, in which guest-blogger Michael Gutenplan tells us about his solo trip to Vegas. CH: I agree that it’s fun to gamble but what makes Vegas great is all the other things “restaurants, Broadway shows, etc.” It’s what separates it from the Indian casino’s. PHILOSOPHICAL MONDAY Quote from a post you should’ve read: “For now, I want to hold summer’s hand a little longer.” – Kelli Bielema, Fierce in Seattle: Summertime and the Living Is … Over? OH, IT’S TUESDAY re: Political Physics: Ain’t I a Woman? The Story of Sojourner Truth and Caster Semenya, in Monique King-Viehland, explained why the gender testing of Caster Semenya is so very offensive. katrina: Every time I read anything about this I get so angry. Monique, thank you for writing this. The violation of her body and her privacy is enough to infuriate me. I also appreciate you drawing attention to how black women, particularly, are often masculinized. Our sexuality and gender are often twisted into some type of stereotype hyper-sexed, under-sexed, mammy, superwoman, manly, etc… Gender and sex are both so ambiguous that any effort to squeeze either into some norm seems ridiculous to me. WOW! IT’S WEDNESDAY re: Wonderfully Awful: Public Service Awesomeness, in which Robin Rosenzweig celebrates the awfulness of PSAs from the 80s and invited you to share your favorite wonderfully awful PSAs. Constance: I still catch myself singing this sometimes: Meth! OOOO, Meth! DEAR THURSDAY Thanks to everyone that commented and Facebooked about...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Quick – think of a catch phrase from a public service announcement from the 1980’s! Easy, right? Perhaps you’re hearing a stern bear tell you that only you can prevent forest fires. Or maybe you heard the sound of an egg frying while a voice says, “This is your brain on drugs. Any questions?” Now try to think of a current PSA. Anything come to mind? Aside from the dulcet tones of NBC’s “The More You Know” jingle, it’s hard to think of any current public service announcement that is nearly as memorable as the ones we saw growing up. Are there in fact some truly great PSAs on television right now and we’re all just not filled with enough childlike exuberance to remember them? Or are they just not making them anymore. Regardless, thanks to the magic of YouTube, we can take a stroll down vintage PSA memory lane. See how many spark your memory. I Learned It By Watching You Drugs. Apparently they were a big problem in the 80’s. There was a war on them and stuff. Just as parents were discovering their kids stashes and wondering how this could happen to a nice family like theirs, this PSA threw it right back in their former hippie faces. Guess what, mustachioed dad that looks like a mix between the Micro Machines man and Mario of Super Mario Brothers fame – your kid learned it by watching you. In your face! More 1980’s PSA gems after the jump! Who Broke My Wiiiinnnndoooow! The Mormons are known for a great many things. But you probably wouldn’t think that writing a super catchy song is one of them. However, in the 80’s, the LDS produced not one, but two public...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Anyone who knows me knows that I’m pretty much obsessed with Las Vegas. However, it seems that more often than not, my trips to Sin City don’t coincide with the rare times in my life when I am cash flush. I’ve had to do the Vegas on a budget trip so many times that I’ve actually given how-to tips in a previous blog. But I forgot one key entertainment tip in that blog – something that can be ridiculously fun and totally free. I’m talking about Dealertainers, folks. DealerWHATers? Dealertainers are pretty much what their name describes – celebrity impersonators/dealers that can be found at the Imperial Palace on the Las Vegas Strip. I discovered these little gems several years back when the annual roller derby convention, Rollercon, started centralizing itself within the Imperial Palace. Since a common theme among roller derby types is a general lack of disposable income, we generally would buy a case of beer at a store, keep it in the room, and then never leave the hotel so that our beer would always be within reach. It was while I was hanging out in the casino enjoying my room beer that I first saw the magic that is the Dealertainers. See, not only do these celebrity impersonators deal cards at their respective tables, but periodically they get up onto a tiny stage in the middle of their pit and perform a song or two from the artist they are impersonating. And since the management at Imperial Palace seem to have a loose policy when it comes to crowds shaking-it in the middle of their casino, an impromptu (and free!) dance party can very easily form in front of the Dealertainers pit…particularly when roller...

Whatta week. CH got an Emmy nomination, and of course the comments were off the hook. Check ’em out: HELLO FRIDAY re: Fierce Anticipation: July 10-12, in which Ryan Dixon made a case for Sheetz being the best convenience store in the history of ever. One reader/former employee agreed: Laura: I now live in CA, but used to live in Northern VA and worked for Sheetz for 3 years as an assistant manager. They were the best convenience store around at that time, and have only gotten better from what I can tell. (Side note, there were also a pretty decent company to work for!) Nobody out here knows about Sheetz, and when I try to explain, some people go ‘Oh! Like am/pm.’ or Jersey transplants go ‘like WaWas’ and the answer is NO. There is nothing like Sheetz. End of story. PHILOSOPHICAL MONDAY re: Tall Drink of Nerd: Father Time, in which Amy Robinson struggled with her father’s recent diagnosis of leukemia. jenny: My grandfather had leukemia, and sadly pasted away this year due to stomach cancer. It’s hard being far away from family. Every moment is precious. This thanksgiving I went home to spend the last holiday with him, and it was wonderful. I would curl up in a chair a drift off to sleep with him, just being close was a comfort. Oddly enough, he was more comfortable with the fact of his time left, yet none of us were. My grandparents had 6 kids, and I know that it was great for them to all be together and a space of support. But I do want to tell you, my grandfather did overcome leukemia, and at the age of 83 without any major surgeries, etc. OH, IT’S TUESDAY   re:...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Photo Credit: Kevin Dooley Last weekend I did something that people have been doing for decades but was brand new to me. Something that people generally don’t choose to do if they’re in their right mind. Something that enjoyed a bit of a heyday in the 80’s but really hasn’t been talked about for a while…until now. Perhaps it’s one of those “only in Los Angeles” kind of things, but somehow in the year 2009, I found myself inside a dark movie theater watching a laser light show. I don’t know who invented the laser light show or when it got its start. What I do know is that someone came up with the idea of putting lasers to music, and sometime thereafter realized that it was a prime way for the 1980’s stoner crowd to enjoy Pink Floyd. Perhaps that’s because it helps to be under the influence of a mind altering substance to really get into Pink Floyd, and adding lasers to that equation takes the experience to a more “holy crap, you’re blowing my mind” kind of place. Like chocolate and peanut butter, I suppose. In Los Angeles, the laser light show has returned via the Laserium, located at the Laserium CyberTheater (aka the Vine Theater at Hollywood and Vine). From what I gather, Laserium has been doing these shows in various places around LA for a while, but now they have set up shop in Hollywood to introduce the laser light show to an entirely new generation. Or I should say re-introduce it to the original generation, who is now introducing it to their kids. For the old schoolers, Laserium offers a Pink Floyd show. They also have a Led Zeppelin show and a Beatles...

  We’re going to take a break from our regularly scheduled Wonderfully Awful to spend some time on something Wonderfully Wonderful: my engagement. Sure, it feels a wee bit self-indulgent to spend time that I normally use to snark on bad TV or weird informercial products to talk about this amazing thing that happened to me. But it’s my blog, and by golly, I will use it as I please! Anyway, a little history: the fella and I have been together for over five years. In the past, we had discussed the idea of engagement and marriage, but more recently our conversations have more frequently revolved around the economy and money and our sick cat. Suffice to say, I wasn’t at all expecting what ended up happening at halftime of a roller derby game in a warehouse in Los Angeles on June 27, 2009. So it’s Saturday evening and I was getting dressed in my derby finery as I prepare to beat up on women whilst wearing roller skates. I was having a hard time deciding between my pretty, shiny gold hot pants or my funny, silly black shorts that say “NOM NOM NOM” on the booty. I started asking around for advice on this ever-important choice, when my teammate and close friend told me, “you should go with the pretty.” Turns out, she was in on what was about to happen, and was helping me look my best. At 8:00pm, the game was underway. I was feeling a little bit sluggish, but was still having a pretty good game. As the second quarter drew to a close, my team captain told us that we should all stay put when halftime starts. When the game clock hit zero, the announcer declared that we should...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Las Vegas is a city known for separating its visitors from every bit of money they brought with them. However, after my most recent trip, I learned that it’s not just possible to enjoy Vegas on the cheap…it’s fun! And now I’d like to share a few tips to help you enjoy Sin City without spending a pretty penny. Last week I had the chance to enjoy three free days at the Bellagio courtesy of my sister, or more specifically, my sister’s membership in Bellagio’s Player’s Club. For those who unfamiliar, using a Player’s Club card when gambling helps a casino track how much you gamble in their establishment, and they offer perks depending on how much you drop. And usually you have to play quite a bit of money to earn real perks like a comp stay. But Vegas is currently suffering due to the economy, and they seem to have lowered their standards. Right now it doesn’t take much to be offered a comp stay in a nice joint like the Bellagio. So if you find yourself in Vegas and have a penchant for gambling, get signed up on some Player’s Clubs. You never know what you’ll get for free. Just because we were at the Bellagio didn’t mean that we were going to spend money like we belonged there. The first thing we did when we got into town was stop at a grocery store to stock what we would lovingly call our “In-Room Buffet”. The more food and drinks we had in the room, the less we spent outside of the room. Plus, since we drove, we were able to bring a full cooler. Speaking of, it may not feel very classy to have...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Screen Capture: Jeff Schultz I was recently invited to watch a taping of a game show for which I had auditioned, and was told that I could possibly be pulled from the audience to become a contestant. Even though I shuddered at the thought of being humiliated on national television playing a game that I really thought I sucked at, I couldn’t very well turn it down. After all – I’m FUNemployed! Plus, they were willing to pay me some cash even if I just sat in the audience. So really, it was a no-brainer. I arrived at the studio at 9:30am and waited at the gate with a varied cast of characters. There was the sweet, hyper-enthusiastic with possibly a touch-of-the-crazy old lady. Then we had the textbook urban cowboy straight out of Central Casting wearing all black, a bandanna, a cowboy hat, and a smattering of stubble. And then there was a gentleman who I will refer to as Tool Raul (not his real name, though he did have a similar rhyming nickname followed by real name moniker that he would make every effort to make sure people knew throughout the day. And as much as I want to share it because it is truly that bad, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of finding results not created by him in his inevitable daily self-Google, nor do I want to give him free web hits. So Tool Raul it is). We were eventually herded into the studio where our little group of twenty (all of which had previously auditioned for the show) was strategically placed in certain seats before the rest of the audience filed in. I found it very interesting that we were...

Photo by Rick Audet Happy Memorial Day Weekend, guys! Before we get into the best comments of the week, friendly reminder to enter your date and time in the Baby Betty Pool. Betty won’t guess her birth date and time by herself, now will she? She needs suggestions. HELLO FRIDAY re: Fierce OR Nerdy: Swine Flu Or H1N1, in which slpc asked us to vote on our preferred name for the not-as-deadly-as-the-MSM-thought-it-would-be flu virus currently doing the rather anti-climatic rounds. (Thought)Chuck: Both names are misleading and have their drawbacks. Calling it “swine flu” infers that the virus came specifically from pigs, when influenza is actually a virus that originates in the intestinal tracts of birds and which then mutates (“antigen shift”) and is transferred inter-species, in many cases to pigs. True, the virus can mutate further than is normal and become more virulent & dangerous (“antigen drift”) while in the pigs, but still the disease is not native to pigs. Calling it H1N1 is also “off-the-mark,” in that this virus we have encountered today is a descedant of, but not THE SAME AS, the virus which was originally identified by its genetic code as H1N1 and which caused the influenza pandemic of 1918-1919. This new virus, though potentially dangerous, has not yet shown the adaptability to humans and high transferrance & lethality rates that the 1918 virus had – and which made it so deadly. Check out John barry’s THE GREAT INFLUENZA for a fascinating, concise account of the 1918 pandemic, as well as a great “science for non-scientists” look at how viruses behave. PHILOSOPHICAL MONDAY re: The Most Practical Road to Mad Love, in which I admitted to creating an apartment-in-a-few-bags back-up plan, when I moved in with my then-BF, now-husband and asked...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig A couple months ago, I decided to join all the cool kids and rid myself of my job. Well, it wasn’t so much that I decided to do it as my employer decided for me, but that’s not important. The point is that, like so very many people I know and tons of people I don’t know, I am currently unemployed. At first, I was bummed out about it. It’s always difficult to lose a job and have to figure out how to proceed into an incredibly daunting job search, especially with the economy and job market being as bleak as they are. But then, I realized that there was another way to look at my situation. Instead of being sad about being unemployed, I could turn my frown upside down due to the fact that I am now FUNemployed!   Photo by Hyperbolic Pants Explosion I’m not sure which of my friends coined the term FUNemployed, but it has become part of the lexicon amongst my fellow jobless pals. I think the idea was created for several reasons. First of all, adding the word “FUN” to anything makes it better…period. And also, being unemployed opens up a world of possibilities that don’t otherwise exist for those who are living the 9 to 5 life. What does it mean to be FUNemployed? For starters, I can run errands or take care of my personal to-do list at any time of the day. But that’s not really the fun part. Being FUNemployed means I can get together with my other FUNemployed pals for an afternoon roller skate. Or we can spend some time by the pool. Or I can take a nap whenever I want (and boy, oh boy...

  . a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig And now, another terribly true tale of apartment living… When I checked my mailbox last Friday, I found a curious letter. The envelope indicated it was from my apartment management and it was addressed simply to “resident.” My mind wandered to try to determine what this letter could be about. When I first moved in, I was told that they may someday convert the building to condominiums, so my first thought was that they finally decided to go ahead and do it and this letter was my notification. But when I opened and read the letter, it quickly became clear that this was not from apartment management, or even sent with their consent. I found a letter that intended to serve as a warning to my apartment building’s residents. There seems to be a gentleman who lives in the building who is apparently some sort of drug dealer. After reading the note, I’m guessing it was written by a concerned citizen or, possibly more realistically, a bitter ex. Regardless, I’m not sure this will get the result that the author intended.  Let’s take a look (address and phone number deleted to protect alleged drug dealer). It begins: ATTENTION FAMILIES! !BEWARE DRUG DEALER! KURT IN APARTMENT ___ SELLS DRUGS! DRUGS! DRUGS! DRUGS! So in case we missed it, we’ve got ourselves a drug dealer in the building who sells drugs. Lots of ‘em. Drugs! Drugs! Drugs! Drugs! Drugsy drugs drugs. The letter goes on to list his name, address and cell phone number. However, instead of giving his first and last name, his is listed as “Kurt The Drug Dealer.” It makes me wonder if he had his last name legally changed to The Drug Dealer, which I imagine would actually make sense...

Now that April has rolled around, I’m finding very little interesting television at the moment. Aside from maybe Lost and Rescue Me, and all the basketball and baseball that has been crowding up the TiVos (thanks, boyfriend), there just isn’t much to watch. That’s probably why I’m getting back into my old pal of a guilty pleasure – Dancing with the Stars. For those who are living Unabomber-style in the woods, Dancing with the Stars is a ballroom dancing competition imported from England and features “celebrities” paired with professional dancers. They are scored both by audience vote and by a panel of judges whose qualifications are a bit unknown to the general viewing audience. We just know that Len is British and stuffy, Carrie Ann is a stickler for technique, and Bruno is saucy and would likely give a 10 to anyone who strips down and shags in front of him. And why do these celebrities subject themselves to this? Is it for a giant cash prize or a donation to their favorite charity? Nope. They dance for a tacky mirror ball trophy. Oh, and the possible resuscitation of an otherwise dying career. When the show first aired in the U.S. in 2005, nobody knew what to make of it. I think what people found to be surprising was how interesting it was to watch these non-dancers learn such difficult routines, and to see who had the ability to pull it off and who very much didn’t. Plus the costumes in all their glittery, sparkly glory – for both men and women alike – were a sight to behold. And the possibility of a wardrobe malfunction during a cha cha was ever-present. So the show became a success and all of a sudden, these...

. a blog by Robin Rosenzweig Remember a time not so long ago when watching television meant sitting through all of the commercials? Indeed, the pookah-pookah-pookah convenience of TiVo has been life and television habit-changing for many of us. But like most things in life, that convenience has come with a price. If you have a TiVo or a similar digital video recorder, it’s likely that you spend little if any time watching commercials. Why would you, when you can easily just start watching your show twenty minutes after it starts and then just fast forward through them all (with the aforementioned perky pookah-pookah-pookah sound that comes with it) just to have the highly intuitive device jump to five seconds before the show resumes once you press play. But if you’re not watching the commercials, how are these advertisers selling their products? Simply put, advertisers are using the shows themselves to show their wares, and they’re using methods that are more and more smack-you-in-the-face obvious with each passing day. Of course, product placement in television and movies is nothing new. It’s how these products are now being placed these days that has become bit unsettling. I saw the beginnings of this back when Alias was still on. In one scene where heroine Sydney Bristow and her associate were in pursuit of some nefarious character, one of them blurted out something along the lines of, “Quick…to the F-150!” followed by a quick shot of the Ford F-150 logo. At that time, I thought that mention was a tad cheesy. But that was only the beginning. Now when I watch the new 90210…and yes, I watch the new 90210…I’m inclined to think that Beverly Hills is run by the Dr. Pepper mafia. Just take one look...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Ever since I started musing on all that is Wonderfully Awful in the world, it seems that others have found fun in helping me discover these things. This is incredibly helpful on a day like today, when the sun is shining and the weather is warm and I have a hard time focusing my mind on one particular topic amongst all that is Wonderfully Awful. Luckily, thanks to the help of friends and family, I have a few new discoveries worth sharing. TRIMMING THE HEDGES: American broadcast television is notoriously uptight, and in order to see truly funny, borderline offensive commercials, we usually must look to other countries. But either the America’s delicate sensibilities are lightening up, or this commercial for the Schick Quattro Trimstyle for Women managed to sneakily slip through the cracks. The commercial is for a razor that features a waterproof bikini trimmer. The commercial shows women in various situations, from jogging to meeting a girlfriend for lunch to swimming. It also shows bushes of various shapes and sizes around them. And every time the women pass by, the bushes…shrink. And some of them form neat little shapes. It really is about as blatant a message as they can possibly send without actually showing women trimming their personal hedges. I can thank my sister for bringing this gem to my attention: Two more Wonderfully Awful things after the jump: SOUL EYE-ROLL Speaking of my sister, she recently saw the touring production of Grease at the Pantages Theater in Los Angeles. The “big name” on the marquee is none other than American Idol winner Taylor Hicks. This prematurely silver fox and leader of the Soul Patrol is onstage for all of one song (Beauty School Dropout,...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Has this been a particularly cold winter? Because it seems like everyone has been stricken with Snuggie Fever, and quite frankly, I don’t know what to do about it! So in case you’ve been living under a rock, a Snuggie is some sort of miracle garment that is saving us from dying of hypothermia in our homes and is apparently something we all simply cannot live without. Although in actuality, it’s just a blanket with sleeves. The Snuggie seems to be the solution for those who are either too incompetent to use a regular blanket or not quite ingenious enough to wear a bathrobe backwards. The commercials featuring that poor woman expressing her frustration as she struggles to figure out how to wear a sweater or sit under a blanket have been haunting our televisions for some time now. But I never in my wildest dreams imagined that the Snuggie would actually become something big. Apparently, the blanket incompetence problem is a major epidemic, because from what I’m hearing, Snuggies are officially a Big Deal. This became clear to me when I saw Oprah interview the creator of the Snuggie last Friday – a man who, quite frankly, must be pinching himself daily to make sure his good fortune is not just some crazy dream. And with good reason, because seeing Her Highness, Lady O and her guests all Snuggied up and singing its praises looked like some sort of freakish nightmare to me. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I just don’t get it. I happen to like blankets and sweaters, and have no problem figuring out how to use them. And even if I’m just relaxing at home, I still prefer that I don’t look like I’m...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig After about four years together, my boyfriend and I finally decided to take the leap and move in together. We ended up moving into the first place we found, a reasonably-priced cute two bedroom, two bath in a secure building with underground parking for the both of us. Plus, the building has a gym and a rooftop hot tub. We couldn’t believe our good fortune! And then we discovered…the neighbors. We are on the third floor of a four-story apartment building located mere feet away from another large apartment building. Many of the residents, including us, like to keep windows open on warm nights in order to enjoy some fresh air. There seems to be an unspoken code amongst the two buildings that we all accept a certain amount of noise by the very nature of living in a large building next to another large building. But the person who lives directly above us has signed no such unwritten contract. We discovered early on that although he watches his television at a loud volume, blasts Bruce Springsteen’s Greatest Hits (or at least three of those hits over and over), and regularly engages in loud telephone conversations, he is not tolerant of any noise whatsoever outside of his apartment. If someone is having a get-together on their patio, he yells at them to keep it down. If a baby cries, he yells out the window telling the baby to shut up. If someone practices their violin and plays lovely music with their window open, he bellows at them to “turn it down.” In the beginning, we found him somewhat amusing, nicknaming him “The Ogre.” But when he yelled at my boyfriend’s brother for coughing too loud, that was the...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig I am a big television fan, and have been for years. My two – yes, two – TiVos are always busy keeping track of the shows I follow. Before that miraculous piece of technology was invented, I used 2-3 VCRs to ensure I didn’t miss a moment of my favorite shows. With the advent of TV on DVD, I can even follow premium cable shows I don’t normally get to watch (I’m looking at you, Dexter!). I really can’t get enough of really great, high-quality television shows. Oh, and I also love the Real Housewives of Orange County on Bravo. Yeah, I said it. If memory serves, The Real Housewives of Orange County was conceived as a way to capitalize on the wild success of Desperate Housewives a few years back. The show generally focuses on five ultra-rich women and their families. These women are generally very self-obsessed, have very spoiled children, and are very tan and botoxed. Most have augmented breasts, and I suspect some have had other various plastic surgeries (usually as evidenced in old photos that appear on the show periodically and show the women in a former, now relatively unrecognizable state). Through the show we have met Vicki, an insurance titan who considers herself to be classy and sophisticated, though she is not above downing well product-placed cans of Coors Light at wild houseboat parties in Lake Havasu. This season we have the inclusion of new “housewife” Gretchen, who first appeared on the show as the apparent gold digging fiancée of a much older man battling leukemia. And although I do still think her original intentions were of a gold-digging nature, she has been shown spending a great deal of time focusing her energy...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig I just got back from a week-long cruise to the Caribbean and it just reaffirms what I’ve always felt…I really fricking love cruises. They have the perfect amount of international culture, free food and old people that one could ever desire for a vacation. Old people, you say? Indeed, if there’s one thing to expect on a cruise, it’s to be surrounded by lots and lots of old people. The fun prognosis can be mixed depending on the ship and the destination. I took a cruise to Alaska last year and each night, the bars and lounges turned into ghost towns at approximately 8pm. We would find ourselves walking the halls on a nightly basis looking for even the remotest sign of life, but not even eternal sunshine was enough of an incentive to keep the old folks awake. This is in stark contrast to my most recent cruise, where everyone (myself included) lived a very active senior lifestyle. I took two line dancing classes (when in Rome, right? Or on a cruise, as it were…) and both were jam packed. And I was the youngest person in the room by about 30 years. The uber-hip ice-covered Martini Bar was always overflowing with people, so much so that I didn’t even get to experience its uber-hipness until the second to last day. And then there was the card room…oh, the card room! That was the most happening place on the boat, always jam packed with silver foxes and foxettes getting their bridge and their mahjong on. One of the best places to meet and befriend old folks was the buffet. Food is generally included with the price of a cruise, so experienced cruisers (and even those of us...

. a blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig [EDITOR’S NOTE: Our wonderful Kalimba is on sabbatical in Austin until February. Til then, “Wonderfully Awful” will be moving into her “Inspirational Monday” spot, so be super-nice to Robin.] As I write this, I am on the set of what appears to be a big budget major network television show. I did not take the usual path to arrive here; a hobby I participate in regularly is the backdrop of an episode of a sitcom, so they came to the organization to which I belong to participate. Otherwise, it’s quite likely that I wouldn’t be here at all. I moved to Los Angeles about six years ago in an effort to get out of a smaller city that I lived in far longer than I ever expected. I didn’t come here to become an actor, director, producer, actor-director, director-producer or any other variety of the Hollywood combo platter.  I just came here for something new and different, and it was clear that I was going to find just that in L.A. Los Angeles is large and spread out, and has pockets that feel like pretty much any other city. But just when I feel like I live somewhere normal, I experience something that, good or bad, can only be described as an “only in L.A.” moment. It’s the one place that I know of where I can drive through a seedy neighborhood late at night, only to stumble across a photo shoot of a skateboarder doing tricks against a graffiti-covered backdrop that suddenly makes what was gritty look cool and edgy. It’s the only city I know of where people dress up as super heroes and movie stars and essentially panhandle on a street and it’s considered part...

. A blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig The year was 2000. I was visiting my sister Laura in Los Angeles for a few days before going to Palm Springs for Christmas with the parents. On the Saturday before Christmas, Laura took me on my first ever visit to the Rainbow Bar and Grill on the Sunset Strip. At its peak, the Rainbow was a landmark 80’s hair metal nightspot. Today, it’s the land that time forgot, and the place where those who refuse to let go of their Aqua Net and skin tight spandex can regularly congregate with mutual acceptance. As a longtime resident of Los Angeles and a former resident of the 80’s rock scene, Laura was familiar with the inner workings of the Rainbow. She had previously educated me about their drink ticket system – the cover charge gets you a ticket that you exchange for the Strongest Drink Ever. She knew that those who want to be seen hold court at one of the downstairs booths, but the real fun is in the  upstairs dance club – where one can shake it like a stripper to the likes of The Scorpions, Dokken and Motley Crue. We sidled up to the bar, exchanged our drink tickets for slightly pinkish vodka cranberries, and took in our surroundings. From aging rocker dudes to big haired women in too-tight spandex, it was a people-watching smorgasbord. And as quick-witted, sarcastic sisters, we were the peanut gallery mocking it all amongst ourselves. Our growing inebriation only emboldened us, and soon enough we were telling a guy in a Korn baseball jersey that we were from Brooklyn…in our fake New Yawk accents, of course. We soon discovered that we had caught the attention of a platinum-haired gentleman sitting at...

. A blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Here we go again…another blog about cats! YAY! Last week, CH wrote about some fantastic holiday gifts for your cats. I’m about to take that to the next level with Wonderfully Awful gifts for people who really love (and perhaps have an unhealthy obsession with) cats. People who would be into these gifts generally also… …wear cat shirts with sayings like “LOVE THAT COUNTRY MEOWSIC” …speak in LOLCATese (e.g. “I AM NOMGRY. I CAN HAZ CHEEZBURGER?”) …scream out “KITTY!!” and giggle anytime he/she sees a cute cat doing cute cat things As someone who fits all of the above criteria (much to the chagrin of my boyfriend), I wholeheartedly give my stamp of approval on the following amazing finds for the cat fanatic in all of us…or at least all of us who are cat fanatics. LOLCAT REFRIGERATOR MAGNETS: We’ve all seen the magnets that allow us to compose brilliant soliloquies on the fridge before digging in to find snacks. Now, thanks to the folks behind the brilliant icanhascheezburger, we have LOLCAT refrigerator magnets. With these magnets, we can all get to know the complex LOLCAT language from the comfort of our own refrigerators. Use them to entertain others – or just yourself – by adding fun captions to your fridge photos. Or, enjoy the added benefit of confrontation avoidance. The next time your jerk of a roommate takes your food (a burrito, for example) simply arrange your magnets to say the following:  “OH NOES. U EATED MAH PURRITO. WTF? I GOIN TAEK DIS LAZER AND PEW PEW PEW WIF IT. KTHXBAI!!1!” More Wonderfully Awful Catmas gifts after the jump! KITTEHS! Have you ever seen a kitten doing something cute, but then it stops and something else happens,...

A blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig As we know since we just went through it, Thanksgiving is a time to not only gorge yourself on ridiculous amounts of food until you pass out in a tryptophan-addled drooling heap, but it’s also a time to give thanks for the many blessings in your life. Over this particular Thanksgiving weekend, I encountered a number of Wonderfully Awful items for which I am incredibly thankful, if only because these things I stumbled across have given me all sorts of fodder for today’s blog. So please join me in giving thanks for these little quickies that made my Thanksgiving weekend not just wonderful, but Wonderfully Awful… COUGAR RANCH: On Thanksgiving, I drove down to Palm Springs to have dinner with my parents. After dinner at the country club where they live (upside: all you can friggin’ eat; downside: no leftovers) and some nice conversation with the ‘rents, my boyfriend I headed back to L.A. On the way back, I kept my eyes peeled for a billboard that my sister told me about the last time she drove home from Palm Springs – and eventually I found it. The billboard was for a new housing development in Beaumont called Cougar Ranch. Since everything in the desert is either named after former presidents, rat pack members, or wild animals, it’s likely that the Cougar Ranch naming committee just played a game of name roulette and simply landed on cougar. But I’m thinking maybe they should have spun that wheel again. With the new and exciting definition of cougar being bandied about today, and considering the general demographics of those living in Palm Springs and its surrounding areas, Cougar Ranch sounds less like a luxury housing development and more like the spinoff...

. A blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig Last year for my birthday, I threw a 70’s fondue party featuring an entire soundtrack of mellow gold songs from the era. When prepping the playlist, a pattern formed –- though 70’s songs are often about sex, they are not at all sexy. Here are some examples of 70’s sex songs with questionable merit as panty droppers, both now and back in the day: Starland Vocal Band – Afternoon Delight: When I was little, my family had a player piano, and one such gem we had on piano roll was the Starland Vocal Band classic “Afternoon Delight.” I think it’s fair to say that by the age of 8, I had this song about daytime nookie mostly memorized – and had no clue what it was I was singing about while the piano keys plunked away on their own. The dichotomy between sound and lyric is perhaps what makes this song such fun. Imagine what a different song we’d have if these rather blatant lyrics were sung by a sultry soul crooner: Thinkin’ of you’s workin’ up my appetite/looking forward to a little afternoon delight. Rubbin’ sticks and stones together makes the sparks ignite/ and the thought of rubbin’ you is getting so exciting. But instead of a hot R&B slow jam, we have a pleasant, sweet and – let’s face it – totally unsexy arrangement that sounds like it was composed by someone’s grandparents between the early bird special and a game of bridge. That said, wholesome as they may seem, I’d bet that Starland Vocal Band’s dual husband/wife team were privy to more than their share of key parties in their day. Just sayin’. More examples of The 70’s Seduction after the jump: Rod Stewart –...

. A blogumn by Robin Rosenzweig This year, Days of our Lives celebrates its 43rd anniversary. And like sands through the hourglass, I have been watching for approximately 25 of them.  It’s hard to say why I have remained so dedicated to Days, with its outlandish story lines and convoluted family trees. But truth is I can’t help but enjoy following the scandalous and sometimes implausible activities of the overly made-up residents of Salem, USA. I grew up watching such legendary super couples as Bo Brady and Hope Williams and Kayla Brady and Steve “Patch” Johnson. The stories were similar – rebellious bad boy finds himself at odds with nice, sweet girl. They somehow end up on all sorts of crazy adventures, and of course, fall in love along the way. And even though Steve died years ago, and Hope died at least a couple times through the years, somehow all four of these characters are back on the show today. With the introduction of baddies such as ruthless businessman Victor Kiriakis (played to this day by Jon Aniston… yes, Jennifer’s daddy) and evil, pretty-much-impossible-to-kill Stefano Dimera, Days of our Lives has evolved into a deliciously campy, at times utterly ridiculous delight.  From Sami Brady’s Dimera-influenced transformation into “Stan” – played by an actual dude –  so that she could anonymously get revenge on those who wronged her (and so portrayer Allison Sweeney could go on maternity leave) to Marlena Evans’ devil possession (!), no plot is off limits due to being “unrealistic.” In Salem, USA, time passes by slowly, children age rapidly, and once characters arrive at about age 40, they just stop aging altogether. Max Brady dates his nieces, and Chelsea Brady has had one boyfriend sleep with her mom and another...