pants!

Today I was trapped in a waiting room for two excruciating hours, powerless against a blaring CNN broadcast coming from a television suspended on the wall. Boy but CNN is a load of crap—or as the English might say, “My word but CNN is pants”—for some reason I’ve never realized how bad it really is. All of the hard work I’ve put into growing my brain with the Wii’s Big Brain Academy has been completely ruined by the sheer stupidity of the looped broadcast. Below are the ‘stories’ that CNN covered:

- Anna Nicole Smith’s judge gets his own show

- Paris Hilton’s neighbors concerned about media frenzy in neighborhood

- Nicole Ritchie faces impending DUI trial

- Man beaten to death by angry crowd

- Furniture warehouse burns, kills firemen

- Horse stable burns, kills horses

- San Diego burns, kills sagebrush

- Plane that might have had faulty landing gear doesn’t land but then safely lands at another airport

- Abused children in Iraqi orphanage rescued by US troops

- Abandoned baby’s potential link to missing pregnant woman investigated

- Football player caught in legal woes

- Baseball player makes amazing catch

I don’t any of this can be considered actual news. Half of it is about celebrities that have no business garnering this much media coverage, and the other half doesn’t affect me at all. And the story behind the Paris Hilton headline only disappointed me--I thought they were going to report that her neighbors were nervous at the prospect of having a hardened criminal living in the next mansion down. In fact, the only story that I would consider real news was only mentioned in passing: Over a live shot of an empty podium, soon to be occupied by President Bush to explain his reasoning behind his veto of the most recent stem cell bill to pass through Congress, the anchor directed viewers interested in this story to the live streaming video on their website. Then we watched what’s-his-face catch the same baseball 42 times. And then it was back to ‘Anna Nicole Smith’s judge gets his own show’.

Now I know what J feels like when he hears a Fergie song and flies into a foaming rage. It’s true— like Fergie, CNN’s sole purpose is to actively make the world dumber. Well, I for one, refuse to be a victim any longer. From now on, instead of poisoning my brain with drivel I will hone my Big Brain Academy picture-matching whack-a-mole skills. It might not actually increase the weight of my brain, but unlike watching CNN, I sure won’t feel stupider as a result of it.

out of focus, out of mind

I'm starting to lose my shit. I've known for weeks that I'm leaving for school this summer and ever since I haven't been able to focus on anything. Today during the staff meeting when everyone was scheduling their summer leave I cracked and told them I'm leaving--but that's still five weeks away. I don't know if I can make it. I wake up at night thinking about the depths of our junk closet and which books we should take with us and which should weather the next few years in my mom's garage.

My lack of focus has taken strange forms. I've made plans to build elaborate bookshelves using colored plastic cups. I've read two books in as many days. One doesn't really count--I re-read The Turn of the Screw and it's only a novella. I won't count the other one either--it was pure shit. I'm reading The Joy Luck Club right now. I don't know how I got through life this far without reading it. In the acknowledgments Amy Tan thanks her agent, Sandra Dijkstra, for "saving [her] life". While we were in San Diego looking for new jobs, I applied to be Dijkstra's assistant. I was one day too late to get an interview, but they said they'd keep my resume on file. At the time, I was sick over the lost opportunity. That was back when I thought I might work in publishing--when I thought I might be able to write something decently not-awful. Then I came to my senses and went to work for the government. Though now, reading that crappy piece of crappity crap book, I'm starting to convince myself that I could be the next JK Rowling. If I ever write that billion-dollar-industry series, I'm totally writing in a part perfectly tailored for Hugh Jackman. Thus my power of Planning will finally come to some good.

Joy Luck has failed to hold my attention, and now I've been sucked into watching crappity crap TV all night. There's a new show on TLC hosted by Clinton from What Not to Wear about teaching complete slobs manners. They have them housed in an manor of some sort, where they force them to walk around with teacups balanced on their heads and use salad forks. One of the victims, a self-professed feminist, objects at every turn--questioning the etiquette based on her sex. Some woman in a tweed suit fails to convince her that embracing gender roles
will make her a better person, a better woman. Then she cries because her boyfriend is caught on tape comparing her to a dude. Then they put her in a wrap dress with snazzy pumps. Oh, now she's sold on the whole idea--she understands what it is to be 'a lady'. She feels what it is to be a woman now, what it is to be herself. Funny, I feel most like myself in a pair of trousers. And a blazer. In a dress or skirt I always feel like a gorilla who's somehow managed to sneak into an english garden party to eat all of the little sandwiches. Wow. Maybe that's who I really am.

I sure know what I'm not--Chinese, that's what. These bitches are crazy.