Vacation

Dear Readers,

Tomorrow I leave for vacation. I had planned to write blog entries ahead so you wouldn't miss out on any posts while I was gone. Oh, that was a good plan, wasn't it? But I haven't felt well all week, and I've been running around like a crazy person trying to get everything ready for this trip. So, I'm just taking the week off. But, I have a habit of reading a book every day while on vacation, and I've packed seven books that I'm really excited about reading, so when I get back on the 13th I will get right to work on posting some book entries (which I have been sadly negligent with lately) and I will be catching up on TV entries about all of my favorite trashy reality shows, plus I will be adding some Duggar mocking into the mix. I may even have some mystery pictures to share with you, and I have a few retro vacation pictures to show you which feature some of the worst mid-90s vacation clothes you will ever see.

I hope you all have a wonderful week and I will see you on the 13th.

The Bachelor: On the Wings of Delusion

• I'm really going to have to reach with this entry dear readers, because I am tempted to fill the entire page with: I DESPISE VIENNA. I DESPISE VIENNA. I DESPISE VIENNA. But, for you dear readers, I will shove aside my disgust and attempt to write a blog entry that isn't filled with nothing but Vienna bashing (not that it isn't going to happen a little bit: see paragraph number two.)

• Am I the only one who is absolutely exhausted from watching this season of The Bachelor? I don't recall any other season of reality TV that has made me feel this worn out. I spend every episode wildly veering between being impressed when Jake acts like less of a moron than I've come to expect from him and feeling disgusted that he still can't seem to see through Vienna. I want to jump through my TV screen, slap him upside the head a couple of times, and scream "WHAT'S IT GOING TO TAKE FOR YOU TO OPEN YOUR EYES?" And how ironic that the very person who felt it was his duty to warn Jillian about Wes, who seemed flabbergasted when Jillian wouldn't listen to him, has decided to go the Jillian route and "figure it out for myself." But no need to worry because Jake assures us at least twice per episode that, "I know my heart won't lead me in the wrong direction." Yeah that's a great idea Jake, because no one's heart has ever led them in a bad direction.

• I'm also feeling a little weary because this was the episode where people stopped speaking in complete sentences. I lost count of the number of times when I said, "What happened to the rest of the sentence?" Are the producers of the show just playing it fast and loose with the editing? Or is it a requirement that you have to have horrible grammar and no ability to articulate an intelligent sentence in order to get on this show? Inquiring minds want to know.

• The other requirement seems to be horrible taste in clothes and hair. Corrie spent most of the episode wearing the kind of clothes that I used to dress my Barbies in during the late 80s. Ali doesn't appear to own a hairbrush. And don't even get me started on the five different mis-matched pieces of clothing most of the women manage to put together for every outfit. I realize these women are all children of the 90s, but do they have to channel Blossom every time they're getting dressed? And let's not forget about Jake's bad taste in clothing. I had a very hard time focusing on the conversation during the Jake-Tenley date (not that it would have mattered anyway since they're both a couple of walking Hallmark cards) because I was too distracted by Jake's black turtleneck. Was I supposed to be able to take the man seriously while he was dressed like that? Because I just couldn't.

• And now, it's time to discuss once again who I want to win. Oh and look at that, the answer is still anyone but Vienna. Who do you want to win dear readers?

Girls: A History of Growing Up Female in America

What do you do when you have almost no spare time because of an impending vacation and a really bad headache and you have been depriving your dear readers of blog entries about books for so long you're starting to wander why they're still reading your blog at all? Why, you read a book meant for children of course. That still counts as reading, doesn't it? I certainly hope you think so dear readers, because writing a blog entry about a children's book was the only way a book entry was going to go up today.


Today's book, "Girls from all walks of life and from all regions of America are represented in Penny Colman's glorious celebration of the resilience of girls throughout history. One story after another--unearthed in diaries, memoirs, letters, photographs, household manuals, popular magazines--reveals everyday experiences of girls."


Fun Facts:

• Giving children really stupid, made up names is not just something that modern parents do. Apparently, parents since the dawn of time have been saddling their children with names they will never be able to live down on the playground - names like Humility, Desire, Temperance, and Fear. That's right, Fear. And now if you'll excuse me for a moment dear readers, I have to go add that to my list of names for my future children.

• A person could burst a blood vessel just from jumping rope. - I read that in the book and thought "How quaint that people used to actually believe that kind of stuff," and then I googled it and discovered that it's actually happened. WHAT? Apparently I was a lazier child than average, because there is no way I would have ever jumped high enough or hard enough to burst anything.

• Mothers have always tortured their children by dressing them up in matching clothes and forcing them to post like circus sideshows. (Okay, so clearly it's a bit of a stretch to call this section Fun Facts, but my headache is getting worse so I'm going with it.) - It doesn't seem to matter what period of history I was reading about, or what social class the people in question were from, there always seemed to be a picture accompanying it of two or three girls, dressed in matching clothes, looking miserable, shooting their Mom a dirty look as she's taking the picture (or maybe I'm projecting on that last part.) I know that look. I've lived that look.

Open

It's been so long since I wrote a blog entry about books that I'm having trouble remembering when the last time was. Sorry about that dear readers, but between the detox and the death stuff I've been having a hard time forcing my brain to focus on reading and instead have been relying on a regiment of nearly constantly TV lately. But, I'm going to attempt to do a better job in the future of balancing out the TV entries with the book ones.



Today's book, "He is one of the most beloved athletes in history and one of the most gifted men ever to step onto a tennis court - but from early childhood Andre Agassi hated the game. Coaxed to swing a racket while still in the crib, forced to hit hundreds of balls a day while still in grade school, Agassi resented the constant pressure even as he drove himself to become a prodigy, an inner conflict that would define him. Now, in this beautiful, haunting autobiography, Agassi tells the story of a life framed by such conflicts, a life balanced precariously between self-destruction and perfectionism."


Shallow Thoughts (which seems a bit redundant now that my blog is actually named that):

• Today's book was a suggestion made by one of my dear readers Kara, who always humors me by calling me dear writer (which makes me ridiculously happy.) And I have a strict policy that whenever someone humors me I have to humor them back so I've agreed to read her book suggestion. I was actually looking forward to seeing what it would be like to read some one's suggestion and not have to read it all in one day. I found it fun and liberating. I also found it enjoyable to read an autobiography about someone that I know almost nothing about, because as much as I love autobiographies, it can get a little stale to read a book and know exactly what's going to happen at every point during the book.

• I find it very brave when people write autobiographies where they are brutally honest about their lives, their flaws, their darkest moments - which happens frequently in today's book. What could possibly be braver than that? Climbing a mountain? Serving in Nam? I don't mean to discount those things, but nothing could top the bravery of a person being willing to publicly post a picture of themselves with a frosted mullet (which also happens in this book!) - most people would just hope that no one saw that picture and let it quietly fade into the background, but not Andre. And I salute him for that. It almost makes me want to post a picture of myself from the late 90s in which I was wearing stonewashed jean shorts, white Keds, and had really bad highlights. Maybe someday.

• Not so fun fact I learned from reading this book: Andre's father is mean - hardcore mean, and I'm not just talking about the way he forced him to play a sport he hated, or his fits of rage, or the way he chased his son around the house in anger - no, I'm referring to the meanest thing a parent can possibly do to a child, give them a bowl haircut. Andre mentions it on page 28, and let me tell you I felt Andre's pain. A bowl haircut? Why it's too horrible to even think about. I am changed just by the mere thought of it.

The Biggest Loser

Normally I have a harder time writing about The Biggest Loser than other TV shows - because there is so much less to mock - but the contestants on last night's episode provided so much drama that figuring out what to say is not going to be a problem.

Shallow thoughts:

• I was in a huge quandry for most of the episode over who wins the "Most Annoying Contestant" Award. I doubt it will shock anyone to know that the two finalists are the Green team and the Red team - or rather half of their teams, the man from the Red team (whose name escapes me) doesn't bother me nearly as much as his wife Melissa (although he does lose points for having married her in the first place) and I mostly feel sorry for Miggy from the Green team for having a mother who is so insistent that she remain emotionally repressed. Although I probably shouldn't insult Migdalia on my blog because she would probably she would probably hunt me down and try to harm me for saying that. I spent most of the episode in fear that she was going to physically harm someone (show of Internet hands of those who are scared of Migdalia.) It's as if the Green and Red teams where in some sort of Most-Annoying-Person Relay Race. Red starts out in the lead for most annoying, then they had the baton to Green, then back to Red, before handing it off to Green to finish off the race before it all ends in a Jerry Springer-style showdown at the weigh-in. I was expecting to see a chair flying at any minute.

• My favorite moments of the night were all provided by Jillian who continues to amuse me by refusing to coddle the contestants who are so obviously full of b.s. But my all-time favorite moment came from the Jillian-Melissa confrontation when Melissa was upset that Jillian was refusing to pretend to believe her blatantly obvious lies and Melissa said, "That's sad," to which Jillian replied, "For you maybe." I love that Jillian refused to back down and that she doesn't give a crap whether the contestants like her or not. Meanwhile Bob was busy acting like good cop to Jillian's bad cop - making me feel as if I was watching an old married couple who are struggling to figure out how to raise their spoiled children. Bob is clearly playing the part of the Dad who desperately wants to be liked, even when it's not to the benefit of the children, while Jillian is the Mom who dispenses tough love in order to better prepare her children for the cold, cruel, real world. Way to stand your ground Jillian! And memo to Bob: Stop spoiling the children.

The Bachelor: On the Wings of Delusion

Before I get to discussing last nights trashfest, I just want to say thank you to all of my dear readers who left such wonderful comments on the entry about my blogging break, and thanks for your patience while I took the last few days to deal with family matters.

Now, on to discussing oh-so-important things like trashy reality TV.

Shallow thoughts:

• Episode four kicked off with me feeling less disgusted with Jake than in episode three, but the disgust had not completely dissipated due to Vienna still being there to pollute my TV screen. My disgust with Vienna has become so strong that it has overpowered any annoyance I may feel with the rest of the girls. Which is a good thing because there was a lot to be annoyed about: the kind of screaming that belonged at a 12-year-olds slumber party; trashy dresses like might have been more appropriate on someone who was employed jumping out of the top of a cake in Vegas; so much pastel eyeshadow I was starting to feel like I fell into a time warp and landed in the 80s, and desperation so strong I could practically smell it through the TV screen. But I can overlook all of that annoying behavior from all of the other women, just as long as Jake picks someone other than Vienna. This has become my motto (my battle-cry, if you will): Anyone but Vienna. Anyone but Vienna. Anyone but Vienna. Say it together with me now dear readers: ANYONE BUT VIENNA.

• And then there’s our ever-faithful host Chris Harrison, who continues to channel the dad who is supervising a household full of children, he reluctantly gives out stern lectures when needed, he gives speeches on par with Mike Brady’s dad speeches, he helps us with math problems “If we have three women and two roses, and then I take away one rose, then two women are going to go home today instead of one.” And thank goodness for that math lesson, because I never would have cracked that math problem without Dad (I mean Chris) breaking it down for me. It never stops amusing me to watch Chris trying to pretend like he’s not playing a role.

• But nothing amuses me more than the producers’ desperate (and futile) attempts to try to make Jake look tough by throwing in as many shots as possible of Jake on a motorcycle. If I had known it was going to happen so frequently I would have kept a running tally. Sadly, no tally was kept, but I would estimate the casual-yet-oh-so-staged-Jake-really-was-riding-up-the-coast-for-several-hours-on-a-motorcycle-even-though-in-reality-he-was-only-on-the-motorcycle-just-long-enough-for-us-to-film-that-three-minute-scene shots would have to be somewhere in the 10-12 range. Memo to the Bachelor producers: I already like Jake more than I expected to (with the exception of that whole Vienna thing) so you can stop with the transparent attempts to make him look tough. He’s never going to look like anything but the overgrown Boyscout that he is.

Dear Readers,

I have decided to take a blogging break for the next few days due to the death of my Grandmother. I would rather wait until I am feeling better and be able to write the best blog entries possible than to keep writing them now and end up muddling through them. I am hoping to be back to blogging sometime around Tuesday or Wednesday of next week.

Thanks for your patience and I hope to see you all back here in a few days,
Angie