By the Breaking Dawn's Early Twilight

Oh, say can you see, Breaking Dawn at midnight on November 17, 2011?

Nope, can’t say that I can see it. That’s because I’ll be busy that night. I’ll be washing my hair. But in my family, I am in the minority. A little hair scrub would never get in the way of my Twilight obsessed family members who are of both the male and female persuasion. Oh I tried the obsession for a bit. But things took a turn for the worse when I was in the middle of the 3rd book Eclipse. More on that in a minute. First a bit of a warning for the Twilight lovers in my life:

I will be taking the piss out of Twilight in this blog much like I do in Facebook status updates. But remember, I’m just having fun at the phenomenon’s expense. I mean no real harm. I have my obsessions too cough cough Russell Crowe cough cough. And some might say, “Geez Meredith, Russell hasn’t looked like Maximus in 10 years, so what the hell can you really say about R-Pat and his ironing board face?” To which I might say, “That’s a teeny tiny good point but Russell and his 47 and a ½ year old love handles could squash R-Pat with his big toe on a bad day.”

The pissing match I have created between the vampire du jour and the Gladiator is beside the point. The point is that since this isn’t “my” phenomenon, I am going to poke fun of it until I’m as bored with the poking fun as I was with the first 20 minutes of the movie New Moon (never did finish it.)

Okay – so what do I have against Twilight? Well let me start at the beginning. It was 2008 and I knew nothing about Twilight. Not a thing. The movie came and went, people were talking and I just ignored the noise. I was busy carrying my 3^rd child and dealing with a chronically constipated 4 year old. Anyone who has ever had a chronically constipated child knows how much time that takes out of your life. So I paid no attention. After my daughter was born, Twilight was on DVD. I rented it out of a slight curiosity and was absolutely shocked by how much I enjoyed it. I immediately called my niece who was a fan and asked her all about it. She had all the books. Maybe they were my sister’s books. I can’t remember, but I wanted to read them. I was going to become part of the Twilight culture, and was excited about it.

I read the first book quickly, even read in the dark with flashlight so as not to wake a sleeping infant. Devoured New Moon immediately after. Thought it was a bit slow and Bella started to get on my nerves but I enjoyed it enough to want to keep going. Maybe Bella would develop a personality in the 3^rd book. By the time I got to the middle of Eclipse, my interest really started to wane. I was so over Bella whining about wanting Edward to turn her into a vampire that I kept flipping the book off. I mean really Bella? You want to give up food and drink and live off animal blood for the rest of your life? Which will be a very freaking long time – especially for the already immortal Edward who has to share that very long life with your humorless ass.

So the annoyances in the 3^rd book brought back memories of annoyances from the 2^nd book that I tucked away due to my momentary lapse into Twilight frenzy. Poor pitiful Bella falling apart in the woods in New Moon because her cold dead boyfriend who knows nothing of the meaning of inflection, dumped her so that she could have the life a teenager should have.  I so could not relate to this character at all. Get over it like the rest of us had to when we got dumped as teenagers. Do like we did – date older guys who go to rival schools. Or in your case, younger werewolf guys who are in rival families. Most importantly, get your ass up and live woman! You think Scarlett O’Hara would ever lie in bed and whimper for half a year? Hell no. ‘Cause she knows tomorrow is another day. And she isn’t going to waste her time pining over Rhett (boy did she ever screw that one up.) or Ashley. And certainly not a flat faced dead fucker.

Speaking of flat-faced dead fuckers, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I don’t get it. Forget the actor behind the character. Let’s be nice and leave him out of it. Let’s just talk about the character. Edward. What do Bella and all of those team Edward freaks see in him? So he gets a little sparkly in the sun, big deal. So does Liberace, who also happens to be dead, and you don’t see droves of teenagers fighting over his sheet music. If it’s not the sparkles, maybe it’s the cool skin. Perhaps Bella has a fever and the only prescription is the teenage Snow Miser. Nah, that can’t be it. No one’s attracted to cold hard flesh. Oh wait….

Hmmm. Maybe it’s his obsessive love for her. Do we want the one we love to be obsessed with us? I can’t speak for anyone else, but I have 3 ones that I love who are obsessed with me and I haven’t had a peaceful People magazine reading enhanced bathroom break in years! So I don’t believe that one either. Ahhh. It’s immortality. As miserable as she is for only being on the planet for 18 years, she wants to live forever and make all the other immortals long for the day they could get hit by a car and not get back up. I swear if I had to spend an eternity with Bella, I’d be looking for the nearest stake. As I said in a recent Facebook status update, Bella’s about as much fun as a Laundromat with empty candy machines and only Fingerhut magazines to read. Ehhh - you might as well throw in an “out of order” Ms. Pacman arcade game while you’re at it…to enhance the fun. 

I finished Eclipse feeling very unsatisfied and never even read a page of book 4…Breaking Dawn. Didn’t care anymore. I got nothing out of this love story but bad jokes and boredom drool. Although I do dig the werewolf part of the love triangle. It’s not the abs, (well maybe it’s a little bit of the abs) it’s his sense of fun. Jacob actually wanted to do things other than watch Bella sleep. Of course he needs a good vigorous shake to snap him out of his Bella stupor but I’ll cut him some slack due to immaturity. (And I’ll pretend no one told me he imprints on Bella and Edward’s half fanged baby) Yikes.

In short Twilight, I tried. It didn’t work, no hard feelings. Let’s just go our separate ways and cling to those few memories we had together when I was immersed in book 1 & 2. Those were fun times…right? We just weren’t meant to be. Besides, I have been swept away by your more violent and entertaining cousin The Hunger Games. Now Katniss is a heroine I can get behind. March 2012 – I will be watching.

The Only Thing We Have to Fear is...Well Lots of Things

With fear as my guide how can I know

What it is here that frightens me so

He’s got a grip on my gut with ultimate force

A grip that steers me way off course

I want to scream at him to back away

But his grip on me gets tighter each day

I’ve become a prisoner to this frightening creature

Who has taken my will and become my teacher

But I’m learning nothing

Nothing but more fear

Words from my early twenties when I was in a little darker of a mood. Those words were light compared to some of the other things I jotted down in my lonely, pretentious twenties. But have no fear (hehehe). I’m not about to get deep on ya-all. Fear can be a subject of great depth, no doubt. There are many facets to it. It is the cause of great harm but can also serve a purpose like keeping most people from jumping into Niagra Falls. It’s the subject of endless quotes, anecdotes, books and speeches. But I’m not here to delve into the subject on a great level. Nope. I just want to poke fun of phobias and commiserate with others. Some of which are a real laughing matter. (Well depending on who you ask. My snake-phobic mother would probably not laugh if we hid a rubber snake in her bed. In fact, it might just kill her. So nobody ever do that okay?)

This past weekend we had a 50^th birthday party for my brother-in-law. He has a tremendous fear of dolls and clowns. Since it is so much fun to torture someone with a doll/clown fear, my brother bought him a book titled, “Scary Ass Dolls.” Hard to believe he left that book behind when he flew back home. Did my brother really think he’d ever take a peak at that book? Of course not, it was all about the delivery. We could throw the book away for all anyone cared. Spending the money was all about the expression on his face when he opened his gift. (It was not pretty, but it was pretty funny!)

I get it though…I really do. Dolls can be real freaky. And they have their ardent fans and collectors. I will never understand someone who wants to collect something that constantly looks at you with wide botox eyes and keeps an expression of “What me? Of course I didn’t throw little Timmy down the stairs. It must have been Fido.” Huh uh. Never trust a doll. They will turn on you. Holly Hobbie and Raggedy Ann are okay I guess. They are cloth like. It’s those antique-y little cracked porcelained skinned things that make me want to run for the hills.

In the 1968 Roger Vadim movie Barbarella, Jane Fonda takes on an army of dolls who yap and snap their teeth while drawing blood with their bites. I hated that movie. And I’m not particularly afraid of dolls. But that whole scene was a freaking nightmare. They didn’t really move very fast, but much like zombies, their slow moves added to their creepiness. Never mind that the movie was a complete mind fuck anyway. Add a few psycho snapping dolls and you got a total freakfest.

From The Twilight Zone, to Karen Black being chased by the shark-toothed Zuni Fetish doll to Chucky and that damned Poltergeist clown, dolls have had a bad reputation on the small and large screen. And it’s no wonder, they will, (as we’ve seen time and time again,) turn on you in an instant! As a side, if you are afraid of dolls, you are a “pediophobe.”

It’s only natural to move from dolls to clowns.  Coulrophobia is a fear of clowns. It has got to be one of the most common fears. And is it ever a legitimate fear. Let’s face it, if you are making a living by painting your face beyond recognition, you have GOT to be hiding something. I’ve seen Paul Stanley post the Kiss make-up phase. Yikes. He was definitely hiding something there. I sure wish he’d hide it again. That scalpel happy face looks right at home in one of Jim Henson’s movies and it ain’t pretty. At the very least he should apply the star to his right eye again. No worries Paul, with all that botox you have injected, no chance of that star ever falling. Can I say yikes again?

Back to clowns…I know there are some lovely clowns out there. Red Skelton for instance. He was the right kind of clown. He could sing, dance and make you laugh with general silliness. I loved him when I was a child. Never once did I think Red would kidnap me, turn me into mincemeat and eat me for breakfast. I was even okay with Ronald McDonald. Sure he has been poisoning me since I was old enough to chew a French fry, but I can live in denial on that because I love his large sized fountain diet Cokes. How does he do it!? The Hamburglar is way creepier than Ronald anyway. He spoke gibberish and walked a little Nosferatu-ishly. I could really have done without him. However, I do often wonder what happened to him. Ronald seems to be the only McDonald’s character to have survived the 80’s.

So many poor clowns out there just want to make people, especially children laugh. But all they do is make them cry. And wish they’d never asked for that damned balloon animal in the first place. Then John Wayne Gacy came along and took all the dignity the clowns were clinging to, away completely. So. Not. Fair. Poor Bozo. He was a nice clown. His ratings had to suffer after all the bad clown press. Before Gacy, the clown world had Pagliacci to thank for their bad rep. Pagliacci was one of those Italian clowns with the poofy white holiday decoration collar and the cone hat with the ball on the end. Just kidding. I have no idea what the hell Pagliacci looked like. Truth be told, all I really know about Pagliacci is what I saw in the movie The Untouchables and the Seinfeld epidsode with crazy Joe Davola. Sigh. I’m not as worldly as I’d like to be. The only foreign clown I know, I know from an American movie and an American TV show. I think Kim Jong-il is a clown though. Does that count?

Although I can see why some people have doll and clown phobias, I’m not really worried about Raggedy Ann or Bozo. I have a bigger fear of bears. Oh why is that? Probably has to do with the fact that those carnivore fuckers will maul you in a second. Forget about camping while on your period. You’re just asking for trouble.  You may as well make a sign that says, “Hey Smokey, I dare you to try to put out this cigarette. Go on…coward! People = Number 1. Bears = Number 11. Right behind the Hyenas.” Now nothing pisses a bear off more than being told they are lowly compared to a hyena. I can’t say I blame them. Hyenas are nature’s assholes. They are weasels with a little bit of power. I can’t like them. And thanks to The Lion King, I don’t like Whoopi Goldberg or Cheech anymore either.

But bears freak me out. I think they are just amazingly beautiful creatures. But I have had nightmares about them for over 20 years. As much as I loved Grizzly Adams in his day, I just can’t get on board with the bear whispering. Uh newsflash Grizzly, ummm, you may think the bears are your friends but Werner Herzog will tell you differently. (Or he’ll let you hear the audio he did not share with the rest of us in Grizzly Man.) Wild animals will turn on you as quickly as dolls and clowns. I promise. I will keep my camping in New Zealand where I only have to tend with hedgehogs and Kiwi birds. P.S. a fear of bears is called Melissophobia. Don’t ask me where that name came from.

Which brings me to my final phobia of the blog. Ligyrophobia: Fear of loud noises. I can actually condense this fear into a certain type of loud noise. Popping sounds. I hate latex balloons (because they can pop), opening champagne (I have never opened a bottle), those teeny little sperm shaped fireworks that you throw at people’s feet on the 4^th of July, and I hate Pillsbury biscuits. I carefully pull the paper back waiting for the damned can to pop but nothing ever happens. It’s like a Jack-in-the-Box. Then I have to start banging it against the kitchen counter never knowing when the thing is going to make the loud pop. I HATE IT! It is a nerve-wracking experience every single time. I just don’t like sudden loud noises. Never been a fireworks fan, never will be. Never been a skeet shooter, never will be. Never been a storm chaser, never will be. Never been the guy who shoots the pop gun to start a Track and Field race, never will be. I like my loud noise planned. I’ve been to a Metallica concert more than twice. I expect and welcome loud noise there. (And I realize just how badly I’ve dated myself.) My point is, at the target range or the racetrack, I am prepared. But don’t be blowing shit into my eardrums…I can’t take it.

See, I told you I wouldn’t get deep. We all have our phobias. Some are very serious and some are comical. My question is, is FDR correct when he says, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself?” Hell if I know. What I do know though is that whenever I hear the recording that plays his famous speech, I get the heebie jeebies because it sounds all ancient and spooky-like. See – sometimes fears come in the most innocuous places. Speaking of phobias – anyone know the scientific term for fear of Gary Busey’s teeth?

By George, I think He's Screwing With Star Wars Again

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a die-hard movie fan. I could happily go to the cinema every single weekend. I used to think that I could only ever love another who was as movie crazy as I was. Until I fell in love with a die-hard rugby fan and had his babies. Then I realized, “you know, thank goodness I didn’t marry a movie fan, because who would take care of these children so that I could continue my movie obsession?” So it all worked out.

Anyway, my favorite film going experience in my entire 39 years of film going experiences occurred at the end of May in 1983. Yep, that’s when Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi premiered at this amazing old theater called the “Eastwood” on the East side of our town. The Eastwood Theater was the Margo Channing of movie theaters, it had it all until the scheming Eve Harrington’s of the theater world  (AKA multiplexes) came in and invalidated the one-screen movie houses. But they could not top the original - great sound, an amazing 70mm screen and a projectionist who knew how to frame a film. This was the place to see a movie in our town in the 70’s and early 80’s.

So my dear mother bought us tickets to the midnight premiere of Return of the Jedi even though it was a school night. My memories may be deceiving me a bit, but I’m almost positive it was a Thursday night at the end of the school year. I was a fifth grader. We had to stand in a line that wrapped around the parking lot, but we weren’t worried about getting in because my smart mother bought our tickets in advance. She didn’t want to crush her beyond excited children who would never forgive her if she failed us on this one. A Princess Leia and a Darth Vader stood in line ahead of us, which just added to our anticipation. It was the first time I had ever seen people wear costumes to a movie. (This was 5 years prior to my Rocky Horror Picture Show phase.) Today, the geeks come out in costumed droves for movie premieres! Not unusual at all.

After we took our seats and got through the previews, the famous 20^th Century Fox logo and musical intro appeared on screen, which gave me instant chills. People were already cheering when John Williams’ musical masterpiece filled the theater with its glorious sound. Every seat was filled and every eye was glued to the enormous screen. The beauty of 1983 was that you were not ever going to be interrupted with a telephone ring tone during a movie. Sure you’d hear whispers and whiny children as much as you do now. But no flashing lights or sounds from mobile phones. It was fantastic. A true escape from the outside world. The only noise in that theater that night was cheering every time one of our beloved characters made their Return of the Jedi debut.

Darth Vader was first. He was the ultimate villain that we all loved to hate, and he got a nice round of applause. C3PO and R2D2 were second. Applause. Lando and Chewbacca were next. Applause. Leia freed Han. Applause. Luke performed a Jedi mind trick on that serpent faced Bib Fortuna. Applause. The whole gang was back together. It was like a family reunion only this one would end with the untimely yet not so tragic death of Boba Fett. Didn’t see that one coming. Jabba’s lair segment was as entertaining as a movie could get. From the annoying but comical little runt, Salacious Crumb to the ferocious head heavy monster the Rancor, George Lucas got it right. All of the characters were fun to watch. Even the dumb looking blue Babar on keyboards, a clear sign Lucas was running out of character ideas, was tolerable. Miles more tolerable than some of the creations to come in the future of the series.

The movie had great battle scenes in the beginning, middle and end. The special effects were amazing and there wasn’t one drop of CGI. Nope. Just a lot of talented people from Industrial Light & Magic. And magic they made. The great battle to destroy the almost complete new Death Star is one of the best achievements in special effects I have ever seen, and it stands the test of time in my humble opinion. Lando and that fishfaced guy (who even C3PO and his "6 million forms of communication" cannot understand) in the Millennium Falcon, with help from the great Admiral Ackbar, destroyed the new Death Star and brought the excitement to its peak. Speaking of Admiral Ackbar, I am convinced he is Tori Spelling’s biological father. Look at the photos if you don’t believe me. Candy Spelling isn’t talking, but I have a sneaking suspicion about what she was doing and who she was doing it with during the late summer of 1972.

So Darth Vader turned good, Luke and Leia turned out to be siblings, Han and Leia confessed their love, Chewbacca made some new Ewok friends, and C3PO and R2D2 remained “best friends”. All was well on the Moon Endor when the credits rolled. It was a perfect blast.

BUT, apparently George Lucas can’t stop tinkering with his toys. And because he can’t stop tinkering with his toys, he is adding more crap to the new blue ray edition of Episode VI. In the original, Darth Vader watched as the Emperor tried to destroy Luke with his lightning bolt fingers. You could see the inner struggle within Darth as he turned to look at his son dying, then back at the Emperor, then back at his son and so on until he stood up, reached for the Emperor and tossed him over the rail to his death. Vader did not need to utter a word for the audience to get the power of that scene. But Mr. Lucas doesn’t agree. He has added a couple of “No’s” for Darth Vader to howl before and after he reaches for the Emperor. Sigh. It doesn’t fit. It doesn’t make sense and it’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard of.

I understand, George is probably salivating over all of the advances in film technology. So I say, “Create something new George! Leave your Sci-Fi masterpiece trilogy alone!” Sure some of the fight scenes seem a little cheesy when compared to The Matrix style of fighting that populates current films. And poor Luke does look a bit sloppy with that light saber when you compare his moves with the moves of the characters in the prequels. Whereas CGI Yoda in Episode II is flyin around like a little green Jackie Chan, Luke looks like a 9 year old determined to be the kid who splits open the birthday party piñata during his final fight with Darth Vader. But none of that should matter. It doesn’t mean George should replace Mark Hamil with Andy Serkis in front of a green screen. (Although after seeing Rise of the Planet of the Apes, I’m sure George is tempted.)

I can accept (although with a tiny bit of grumbling), the additions of other creatures, and even the musical changes in both Jabba’s palace and during the celebration on Endor. I can accept (with a larger amount of grumbling), the replacement of old Anakin with young Anakin at the end of that same Endor celebration. However, the addition of these “No’s” makes me want to slap George over the head with my giant Rancor doll. I wish he’d just leave well enough alone. Accept that at the time, 1983, this was the best that cinema had to offer in action, adventure and special effects. It is not a 21^st century movie, and it never will be. And that’s okay. Someone tried remaking Psycho once and look how well that turned out. So George, I thank you and appreciate all you have done for the world of movies. Please be satisfied with your accomplishments and please, I implore you, listen to Paul McCartney when he says, "Let. It. Be."  

When Celebrities Had Talent

On the morning of the vulgar Kardashian wedding exhibition that is sure to saturate the news this weekend, I am sitting here longing for the time when the only weddings that made the news were Royal weddings, Kennedy weddings or Elizabeth Taylor weddings. Interest in those weddings made sense to me.  The fascination with these talentless celebrities of the Reality TV age though completely baffles me. I don’t get it. What is so interesting about a spoiled girl with a big bum who garishly flaunts her material possessions and her boyfriends for hungry US Weekly readers while having no claim to fame other than her father was friends with a famous ex football player turned movie star turned wife killer and her mother is married to an Olympic athlete turned crypt keeper look-a-like? (huh eh huh eh huh…that’s me panting. Should have taken a breath while writing that sentence.) Really though, I want to know. Because I think the whole thing is BORING.

Perhaps as I approach middle age, I am turning into one of those out of touch old “bitties”. You know, those old people who yell at you for acting your age or for walking too close to their overly manicured lawns. I don’t think so though. I may be a teeny bit out of touch with some things but I still got some spunk dammit. I just think what passes as entertainment today is as dull as those rusty old toe nail scissors on the top shelf of my bathroom closet that will surely cause my big toe to fall off from gangrene if I try to use them again. Dull and harmful. Harmful to our brain cells that are just trying to cling to this life of “fast, cheap and out of control”!

Back to sounding like an old fart who complains (while shaking his fist) about “you kids today!” I really miss when a celebrity was a real star. Talent and moxie and interesting looks and did I mention talent? Now anyone (and when I say anyone, I mean a16 year old boy) with a video camera and a Dorothy Hamill haircut can cut a youtube video and become Beatle-esque in his mania.  The kid looks like he needs a babysitter yet is all over the magazines on fancy balconies vacationing with his Disney girlfriend. Not that I read “those” magazines. I just accidentally walk past them when I am visiting my mother’s. And then a light wind blows past so that the page turns again and again. I can’t figure out why my mom’s house is so breezy but before I know it, I’ve gone through the entire magazine…accidentally.

I’m not really sure what started all of this famous for nothing crap. Was it MTV’s 90’s show The Real World? Was it the Bee Girl in the Blind Melon video? Was it Survivor? Was it George Hamilton’s tan? Maybe it was Clara Peller’s “Where’s the Beef?” She was a huge celebrity for that 30 seconds of TV time. She was likable at least. But I only say that because she was a funny old lady. For all I know she was a real bitch. I guess it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the Elizabeth Taylors and Paul McCartneys of the world have been replaced by the Kim Kardashians and Justin Biebers. In fairness to Justin, at least he tries to sing. I mean he is singing songs. He’s not just walking around L.A. while a video camera catches his every shallow move.

Speaking of Elizabeth Taylor. Sure the tabloids loved her. Sure she flaunted her jewels and her fancy lifestyle. BUT she still had talent, class and real beauty. Okay, well maybe the cheating with your friend’s husband is classless but Debbie forgave her, we can too. She wasn’t just a pretty face mugging for any camera. She was a true actress. Just watch Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf if you want to see acting at its best. The woman had it and her philanthropy only made her more appealing. So when I read an editor to Life & Style magazine (consider the source Meredith…consider the source) call Kim Kardashian “our people’s princess,” on CNN’s entertainment page that shares space with ads promoting aid for starving children, I can’t help but hope that every camera malfunctions so that we get badly framed and blurry photos for all the celeb rags. Since that won’t happen, I will do the mature thing and take a black pen to all of the magazine photos that will be at my mom’s house and give her and the wedding party gapped snaggle teeth and black eyes, and I’ll place moles in unappealing places. I hold the power with my black pen you Kardashians!!  I used to do that all the time when I was a child. Take black pens to People and Cosmopolitan magazines. Everyone was ugly by the time I got through with them. Occasionally I gave them black eyeliner and red marker lips to try to make them pretty, but mostly I desecrated their Herb Ritts shots. In fairness to me, I did wait until my family was finished reading them before I wielded the black pen of destruction. I’m pretty sure poor Cheryl Tiegs got the worst of it back then. But at least Cheryl was a legitimate model who had every right to be in those magazines.

I’m hard on the Kardashians. They may be lovely people for all I know. But my mother is lovely people too. And if I had to see her at every single grocery store check out aisle, and hear about her every time I turned on the boob tube or read about her every time I opened up my yahoo page, I’d be sick of her too. Kim…oh Kim. You are a pretty girl with a smoking voluptuous figure, but I wish you’d give up the “reality” job and get a “real” job.  And soon....please.

The Greatest Food Group That Ever Lived

If I had to choose a favorite food group, there would be no competition. Breads and cereals all the way. I can’t get enough of the carbs and grains. When the low carb diet was all the rage a few years back, I tried it and lasted 3 days. It was ridiculous that I even tried really. I can’t live in a world without biscuits, pasta and Honey Bunches of Oats. I was going to personally strangle Elsie the bleepin cow if I had to endure another freaking cheese cube. Stupidest diet ever.

Speaking of seer-e-ul. (That apparently is the way I’m supposed to pronounce cereal. I have always pronounced it, “Sir-yull,” and have been given shit for it for the 37 years I have been pronouncing it that way. My brother says, “Ceres, the Roman Goddess of agriculture is not pronounced, sir-eez.” Yeah well kiss my ass. It’s hard to break 37 year old harmless habits.) But again, speaking of cereal, I feel lost if my day does not start off with a giant bowl of it. Screw the small portions bull crap. When it comes to my morning bowl, I go for the gusto. The flakes start jumping out of the top once I start pouring my milk because I’ve already filled it to the rim.

I love the stuff. It’s delicious. There are some crap versions, but I am hard pressed to find a cereal I don’t like. These days though, I stick to the “we pretend we are healthy for you, but c’mon, you must have doubts with how sugary this stuff tastes” brands. Like Kashi GoLean Crunch. Let’s face it, it tastes like a bunch of Super Sugar Crisp was glued together and thrown into a box with an “Organic” label. Good enough for me. I’m not mad. I can pretend I’m eating well. I refuse to read the nutrition label anyway. No need for that nonsense to enter my brain.

Which is why I don’t touch the rainbow trio cereals of my childhood. I accidentally read the nutritional information once. It’s like going to a fast food restaurant where you can actually see the employees making your food. Don’t look for God’s sake. You will never want to eat your food. You have to live in denial in order to enjoy fast food or a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

But I do dream about the rainbow trio to this day. Members of the trio include Trix, Fruit Loops and the Mick Jagger of all cereals, the one, the only…..Lucky Charms! (You know it’s not good for you, it’s not even that pretty, but you can’t turn it down and soon you are another notch on its headboard.) Uh we are talking about Lucky Charms…right? Yeah, well they truly are “Magically delicious!” And they turn your milk gray. Because if you mix a bunch of pastel colored marshmellow pellets together, you get a lovely dull gray. Betcha didn’t know that. I would eat some Lucky Charms every single morning if I could. But I can’t because I have a sweet tooth and to have a sweet for breakfast limits the amount of cookies and brownies I can have the rest of the day. I don’t want to peak at 6:00 am dammit. So I forgo the delectable artificial crap, and eat the “pretend” really good for you crap.

 Of course if you are poor like we were growing up, you have to skip Trix/Fruit Loops/Lucky Charms anyway, and go for their cheaper cousin called, “Kaboom.” Oh yeah Kaboom. It’s like they didn’t even try with that stuff. Even the Kaboom box looked chintzy. As though the guy who won the turtle drawing contest on the back pages of a 1980 copy of the TV Guide got to design the clown on that box. The cereal itself was just slightly colorful and the taste was like a diluted bowl of Fruit Loops. Clearly the makers didn’t want to spend much on the food dye. Which today might make people happy considering all the bad news about food dyes. Back then? Not so much. We wanted color! That’s why Boo-Berry was so in demand. (And hard to find!) What could be better than pretty blue cereal?

It wasn’t all sugar and food coloring when I was a child though. We definitely had our granola-y and bran-y moments. My mother used to buy this tiny box of something called, “Natural Hearth” I think. And we all fought over it because one expensive box netted you about two bowls of cereal. Which didn’t get far in our household of five kids. But damn it tasted good for a “healthful” cereal. Raisin Bran too was a star in our house. Until we developed a cockroach problem right around the same time the movie “Creepshow” came out. Then Raisin Bran was never to be heard from again. And I'm guessing we weren't the only cockroach havers to give up the Raisin Bran in the early 80's. Just not worth the risk. Oh and I can’t forget Grape Nuts. The Chia Pet of cereals. Just add milk and watch it grow. But remember, a spoonful of sugar helps the Grape Nuts go down…in the most delightful way!

Then there are the “Good try but you really aren’t going to cut it,” cereals. Like Kix. What the hell is that crap? The slogan is total bullshit too. “Kids like Kix for what Kix has got. Moms like Kix for what Kix has not.” No they don’t. Nobody likes Kix. That's because Kix sucks. It is only still in existence because there are enough people to go around who have not tried it for the first time. Right up there with Kix is Quisp. I’m fairly certain that if you even find a box of Quisp, it will have an expiration date of December 1982 on it. Because no one buys Quisp. Why would they? The box cover is a thousand times less enticing than a box of Kaboom. Our Kaboom artist is freaking Monet compared with the Quisp artist. I mean what IS that thing on the box? A rabbit? Sea monkey? Alien? Beats me.

So I’ve had my fair share of flavors and flakes over the years, but I tend to go in spurts. A couple of years ago it was Life every single morning. It just turns into the best tasting mush if you let the milk soak it for a bit. I love it. These days it is the Kashi tree bark mixed with the Kashi super sugar crisp. The hint of bland from the bark makes me feel better about the so sweet and crunchy cinnamon brown sugar clusters in their “GoLean Crunch”.  And it is really filling. So I leave for work every morning with a full belly of my favorite food group, and I count the minutes until lunchtime.

Nerds and Robots and Hef, Oh My!

Computer nerds are taking over the world. And they know it. The rest of us just do what they tell us because we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. I click on a data tab in Excel and click some other bullshit and then some more and some more and then I cut and I paste and I sort and paste special and then Ta Da! All of the sudden my information is so neatly presented in a spreadsheet. But I have no idea how it really got there. Just some dude (which is a gender neutral term for the purposes of this blog) told me to click where I clicked and everything magically appeared where I wanted it to. And I only wanted it to because someone else told me that’s where I should want all of the data to be. Whoa. See? I am a little puppet. And because I am such a clueless little marionette, I could actually be creating little mechanical monsters that will slay us all in another 10 years while I really think I am creating reports about numbers, numbers, numbers!

I joke but then again I am serious. I have no idea how any person’s brain has the capacity to come up with this shit. I’m glad they do or I wouldn’t be able to blog like this. Having access to major celebrities via Twitter? Unheard of just 10 years ago. So imagine what another 10 years will bring? (Other than robots that will destroy us). Although I could use a Jetson’s style Rosie. She was a doll. Nothing is more awesome than a middle aged apron wearing robot.  But I’d be nervous having a robot maid really. I mean she may seem all nice and “Rosie” (hee hee) because she is sweet and loving and folds your underwear, BUT, she IS a robot. And those fuckers will turn on you just as quickly as that cute little Tiger cub you foolishly thought you could domesticate and raise into a grown up Tiger pet (or Vegas Act, right Roy?) We’ve all seen the Alien movies. The androids all turned out to be dicks in the end. You just can’t trust them.

But daily we trust the people who are sure to create these killer robots of the future. We’re lost without them. The busiest people in every business are the IT people because no one will ever leave them alone. They don’t get 5 minutes of peace. No wonder they want to destroy us. I can’t say I blame them. If someone was in my office every 2 minutes because another system has gone wonky, or their email is locked up, or the system used to create their reports left some information out, I might plot their future demise as well. But you don’t have to worry about me because I wouldn’t begin to know what to do. The extent of my world domination would be me getting on Microsoft paint in Word. Drawing some very lame stick figures, printing them out, and then hanging them throughout the building one night while everyone was home asleep. It would look like the Blair Witch came for a visit after I was through with the place. And much like the audience for that movie, no one would be scared. At all.

I really feel a little bad for the computer dudes out there. I bet they are similar to the pickup truck driving dudes. (Remember gender neutral). People only call them when their computer takes a crap or for the pickup truck guys, when they are moving. My husband drives a pickup. He’s number one on a lot of folk's, “when we move, who to call” list.  He never complains though. He does his civic duty. Just like all of the computer geeks out there. One of which is a friend of mine who drives a truck (or used to) AND fixes computers. So he gets used more than a famous octogenarian we all know. Give you a hint: TAKE THAT FUCKING ROBE OFF HEF, YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS! WHY AREN’T YOU WEARING ELASTIC BANDED JEANS LIKE ALL OF THE RESPECTABLE 80 YEAR OLDS OUT THERE! But Hef clearly likes being used for his money and good looks. (Cough cough). Hell maybe he was good looking once upon a time. He’s been an old gramps for as long as I can remember. And I’m pushing forty. He’s like the actor Max Von Sydow who recently turned 82. I remember Max as an actor when I was a kid. You could have told me he was 82 then and I would have believed you. I don’t believe IMDB. He must certainly be 125 by now.

Anyway, I have gone off on a large tangent. Hugh Hefner and killer robots in the same blog. Oooh Perhaps a future Roger Corman film? He’s older than Hef and Max. Perfect. Well only 4 days older than Hef. (Thank you again IMDB.)

Okay back to the IT guys. I joke about them but the truth is I am so grateful for them and their ability to keep the modern world running. Keep it up guys, I like watching movies with the click of a button (and a small monthly fee). I like being able to stalk old boyfriends on Facebook. Well at least the ones who have the courtesy to make their page and photos public. I like being able to diagnose my many ailments via a mouse click or two. I like being able to find out Roger Corman’s age without having to move very far to do it. I like that an Oscar winning actor told me I was funny and cute because he read my ode about him. I like that the airplanes stay in the sky at a super high percentage of the time. I like that I can pay a bill without begging a coworker for a stamp. I like you, very much, just as you are. You complete me. You had me at “Hello, did you try restarting your computer?” (Yeah right, like an IT guy ever says hello first.) And if I am secretly creating a race of psycho cyborgs, it is so worth it to me because my kids are leaving me alone right now to watch Mega Python vs. Gatoroid. A movie I would never exclusively pay for. I will however, click an instant play key and say, “All right boys, nothing to see here…move along. Go watch the creature feature.” Thanks.

The Classic Rock Blues

I have a serious case of the classic rock blues right now. The classic rock radio stations in my town play the same crap over and over. It’s ridiculous how much great old music they ignore just so we can hear a little ditty ‘bout Jack and Diane again. I get it Mr. Disc Jockey. You have to play Jack and Diane at least 5 times a day or you won’t meet your John Cougar Mellencamp quota. Well I’m here to tell you, there are plenty of wonderful John Mellencamp songs out there that do not ever mention a dude named Jack or a chic named Diane. But how would you know? You never give them a try. Okay, that’s not entirely true. Pink Houses makes its way into the play list fairly often. So does that early one of his about needing a lover that won’t drive him crazy. Hey John! I need a Mellencamp song that won’t drive me crazy. How about some of his later songs people? They exist. I want to hear them!

It’s not just Mellencamp. They will not let Journey go away quietly. Don’t Stop Believin' is on the radio every day during at least one of my commutes. Dudes, I stopped believing a long time ago. Probably when you let Randy Jackson into your band. (Just kidding, I didn’t even know Randy Jackson was in your band until American Idol told me.) As soon as I hear that piano at the beginning, my fingers can’t click the station changer buttons fast enough. One bad click onto the wrong station though, and I’m in 38 Special land, yet again. My younger readers, you may be scratching your head going, “38 Special. Who the fuck are those guys?” Exactly. Oh it seems in classic rock radio world, they are one step away from the Beatles. At least you’d think so with as much airplay as they get. You know the band Asia was big in the eighties too, but nobody goes around playing them all the time anymore. I would trade a 38 Special song for an Asia song any day. “It was the heat of the moment, da da da da da da da!” I liked that song. Haven’t heard it since probably 1985. I could be wrong, but I’m guessing that if radio stations took 38 Special out of play rotation for, oh let’s say a month, not much hate mail will be generated because of it. Why don’t we try it, just for fuck’s sake.

Let’s move on to Led Zeppelin. How could I possibly have anything but a kind word for Robert Plant and company? No worries. My unkind words are not for the Zeppelins. They are for the DJs who mistakenly think that Black Dog and Stairway to Heaven are the only worthy Led Zeppelin songs. Have they never heard of a little album called Houses of the Holy? You can’t play a little No Quarter every once in a while? And don’t get me started on Pink Floyd. Ugghh. I don’t need to hear Money ever again. Ever. Again. Cool bass riff, no doubt. But enough already. I think listeners would love a little Shine on You Crazy Diamond if you’d just give them a chance. So what, it’s a long song. I know our attention spans are lacking, but for a great enchanting song, we will hold it. I promise. How do you think Phish got so many damn fans? It ain’t because they chop their songs into little bits so they fit nicely into a radio station’s play list. Nope. They make the music they want and their fans are the most loyal of any.

Speaking of chopping songs, nothing peeves me more than a radio station editing a song for length (or cuss word, right Charlie Daniels?) Sweet Child O’ Mine isn’t even long to begin with. You really have to cut out half of the guitar solo? Listen people, if you don’t have the attention span to listen to the greatest Guns N Roses song ever in its 6 minute entirety, then you need to place your little finger on the button that will take you to Radio Disney. I hear Miley Cyrus is a great singer. Well that’s if you like the same sound that came out of all those Little Orphan Annie wannabes who attended Elementary school with you. You know who they are. They always sang with big wide arms and annoying smiley faces while their stage mommies gestured their movements for them in the front row of the auditorium.

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida is a notoriously long classic rock song. But you will never hear the full length version on the radio. However, there is a terrific scene in the movie Manhunter where the song is the backdrop. The whole seventeen minutes plays during the climatic ending of the film and it’s just awesome and brilliant! One of Michael Mann’s best films, and it’s one his earliest. But I’m not here to talk movies. This is classic rock talk and I am burnt out on the same old stuff. C’mon radio, spice it up for me. Please?

I do have to give classic rock stations credit where credit is due. They know not to play the post-Disney versions of Elton John and Phil Collins. What happened to those guys? Anyone know? Why does doing a Disney soundtrack make you suck instantly afterward? Sorry dudes. You guys used to rock. And in fairness to Disney soundtracks, they were much better off before you two put your grubby little marks on them. You both need to go back to where you belong, real classic rock land. Elton, you need to shine up those Pinball Wizard boots you wore in the movie Tommy and rock that piano like you used to. Yes, I know it’s tedious how much they play Bennie and the Jets on the radio, but it beats that Circle of Life crap any day. As for you Phil, would it kill you to pull out your rusty old drum kit and rock our worlds like you did decades ago? I don’t care that you won an Oscar for that Tarzan song, (how did Blame Canada lose that one?) it’s lame and the best thing that came out of that movie was the discontinued Tarzan doll that beat his loincloth snake while doing the Tarzan yell.  

Now you might say to me about all of this, “Uh easy solution Meredith. Play CD’s or your iPod on your way to work. Duh.” I do play CD’s sometimes, but there is something about stumbling onto an old goodie by chance. Instant good mood when I click a station and one of my favorites that I don’t own and am too embarrassed to admit that I like turns up. (Can you say MacArthur Park?) Go ahead. Poke fun of me. It’s probably on the most hated songs of all time list, but it brings back wonderful childhood memories for me. So I love it. And it’s a real treat if it turns up on the radio. But you MacArthur Park haters do not need to worry. Classic rock stations will surely (and rightly so) never play Richard Harris music. But they will play lot’s of Eddie Money. So you go on and have fun with that.