August 2007 Archives

I feel divided about Sara getting the boot on Top Chef. On one hand: what a completely unfair challenge. If you are going to mess with people's minds and tell them they get a night off to go dancing and hang out, but instead make them do a challenge where they have to cook in a tiny, hot, trailer for a bunch of drunks, the very least you can do is allow them to change clothes. Sara pretty much got ridiculed by the judges by saying she was uncomfortable the whole night cooking in heels and a low-cut shirt. But seriously? That's some shit. It's one thing to make contestants walk into a challenge mentally unprepared, but it's not fair to make them walk into a challenge where some of them (the females) are at a physical disadvantage because of information given to them.

On the other hand, Sara made milkshakes with ice. I have never, in all my milkshake-making years heard of anyone adding ice to a milkshake.* And she's a chef, no less! So while I feel for Sara's party-clothed plight, I think the watery milkshakes deserve a kicking off in their own right.

I caught a few minutes of the new Real World (a bad habit I picked up when I was forced to watch the entire season they were located in Denver). I think this season may win most collectively cracked-out names in one season. Witness: Shauvon, Cohutta, Parisa, and my personal favorite, Dunbar. Even the semi-normal sounding KellyAnne seems made up. I don't think I can do this. If you see me watching this season of Real World, please turn off the television and drag me away. I should probably be doing something more active anyway. Like driving to pub quiz. Or scrolling through Rich's Rock of Love recaps.

*Not three days later I was making up a batch of White Russian milkshakes and lamenting the fact that the right amount of alcohol was making them on the thin side. The suggestion from the peanut gallery was to--of course--add ice. On a related note: White Russian milkshakes = deliciousness.

Back at the dentist this morning for the filling and the fixing of my chipped tooth. Having never had a filling, I was quite freaked out by the whole "needle in your gums" and "drilling into your tooth" thing. That's one of those things, like drawing blood, that doesn't physically hurt very much, but thinking about exactly what is going on completely freaks me out. I had to transport myself to a happy place, and the happiest place I could think of being was on the water taxi in Baltimore after the crab cake competition last year. But now I have a headache and my jaw aches and it is cloudy outside and I am not in any way floating serenely on the water. So that sucks.

I have a new show I'm obsessed with, and you should check it out so we might be obsessed together. It's called "Mind Control with Derren Brown" and holy crap is it freaky. This guy is particularly talented in psychological tricks and mental persuasion, so that what he is able to do appears close to magic. For instance, he walked around with a stack of blank paper and, with little more than general conversation, he managed to convince people they were accepting money from him. He got some fish with the blank paper, but he also "bought" a $4,500 ring. Using subliminal messaging, he was able to "predict" how two advertising executives would shape a campaign. He made an entire mall full of people raise their hands at exactly the same time, without them realizing why they were doing it. It's completely bizarre how calm and normal he comes off, but how definitively he can manipulate minds. Of course, there are always some people who aren't as susceptible to it. The first show ended with him trying the blank paper/money exchange on a hot dog vendor who wasn't having any of it. It makes you wonder how you'd fare in one of his situations. It also makes you glad he's a performer for television and not an evil mastermind (ha) trying to take over the world.

If you're moving to Denver anytime soon (I'm looking at you, Krista and Heather) let me tell you what you have to look forward to: brunch at our neighborhood hipster bar that includes coffee that is most of the time really an Americano, bottomless mimosas or bloody marys, and a "hangover scramble" that combines sweet potato fries, eggs, cheese, and vegetarian green chili. You will swear you've died and gone to brunch heaven.

It turns out I know all the lyrics to Paula Abdul's "Straight Up." It came on the radio last night and it was like my 6th grade music knowledge resurfaced all at once and I was able to faithfully sing every last nuance of that crappy song. I think we have a new karaoke winner. (On the back burner until Tom and I are at the same karaoke joint: "Opposites Attract." He, of course, would sing Mc Skat Kat's part.)

Here's an interesting trivia fact: approximately two out of every five people will not know who sings "I've Got My Mind Set On You." When you tell these same two people that it is George Harrison, they will not believe you, and a lot of emphatic reassertion will be needed, probably along with a Google search. I might have been one of those two people, but c'mon: who knew George Harrison put out such crap? I think as a child who grew up watching that video (mostly the ballerina one), it would make sense that that knowledge would reside in a separate part of my brain than Beatles knowledge. Although the entire Paula Abdul repertoire is probably sharing a space with that video. With my luck, when I get old and senile, those are the parts of my brain that will probably remain intact (encased in shiny lycra). I won't remember where I live or how to tie my shoes, but I'll totally be able to bust out "Cold Hearted Snake." Ooo, hopefully with choreography!

Max has learned a new trick. If we aren't paying enough attention to him when he needs it--say, at 2:00 am--he simply walks over to the clock radio and stomps around on it until he finds the button that makes it turn on. I do think this is a clever trick, because it turns two sleeping, immobile, non-attention-giving humans into two wide awake, fumbling, cursing humans who are now obligated to give some attention. I am mostly perplexed as to why this button exists in the first place. I believe it is the same button as the snooze button, but if you hit it when the radio is off, it works in reverse. And, as an added bonus, if you are sleep-addled and try to turn off the surprise blaring radio in the conventional way, you won't be able to. There's some trick to it that you can never remember. Who needs such a button? I'm perfectly happy with the tiny on/off switch on the side that is so far impervious to clumsy cat paws. Seriously, why can't Max use his super-genius cat skills for good?