Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Friday, December 01, 2006

I do not want to play this Uno game.

Watching TV -no way!- and an Uno card game commercial comes on and this is exactly what I hear.

"Uno, love tap. Hit the monster, tempt your fate. You might get no cards. You might get AIDS! Uno Love Tap! For the excitement of Uno with an entirely different spin. Try Uno Spin!"

I hope ya'll appreciate that because I had to watch the commercial 73 times to make sure I got it down word for word of what I heard.

Mall shopping on a Thursday night.

Alternate title: Bebe sucks.

Holiday shopping. At Tyson’s Corner Center. In uncomfortable shoes. All that is enough to make a girl cranky, but honestly by the time I had walked from Bloomingdales all the way to Barnes and Noble, back to Bloomingdales, what got this girl irritated was not the blisters on her feet. It was the sales people.
I was in the candle store, with all the smelly candles. I can’t recall what it’s called, but why don’t they make more unscented candles? When throwing a party, the last thing you need is a fusion of “fresh linen” and “wild blueberry” assaulting your guests’ noses. Yeah my holiday party’s colors are blue and white. Actually, blue and silver, but silver candles are not only hard to find, they are generally kind of weird looking.
The girl at the register at the smelly candle store greeted me with a “Can I help you?” that was more reminiscent of someone who thought my presence was highly offensive. So I bought a couple of white unscented candles and got the hell out of her way.
Now I have to say that most of the people in the mall were very nice. They greeted with the ubiquitous “How are you?” and then left before my mouth would finish forming the also predictable “Fine, and you?”. But at least they acknowledged me. The kid working in Electronic Boutique was fantastic and helped me find the coolest game a 12 year old girl could want for Christmas while entertaining me with stories about the old school video games that an old lady like me would enjoy. (Space Quest, baby!)
The girl working the MAC counter at Bloomingdales should get a raise. She handled a wild two year old, -who kept threatening me with a toy car whilst saying NO!- while expertly managing a mini crowd and still managing to be polite, helpful and useful in her makeup knowledge. She also talked me off the ledge after my Bebe experience that made me homicidal.
And now to the point of this whole boring tirade… (I am tired. I am having a hard time even completing sentences. I hope ya’ll are still with me at this point…)
I was looking for the perfect dress for my holiday party. I found it at Bebe. I tried it on. Fantastic. Pretty, not too pricey and fits great. I have my dress. So I get in line to pay. There are at least six people working in the store. One girl is on the register. Another is goofing around at the register. Two people in line in front of me took 20 minutes to ring up. Then the girl in front of me got into a long conversation about ClubBebe, where you earn points for money spent. You think another employee could have had this conversation with her, or that perhaps someone would come to ring me up? Nope. You think the cashier could have made some slight offhanded comment to me, recognizing that she was leaving me hanging but that she’d be with me in a second? Nope. The cashier walked away from the counter to talk to the girl and did not even acknowledge me and my dress trying to pay. So after standing there like an idiot for a couple more minutes, I lay the dress on the counter and left. In the time it took me to do that I saw at least 3 Bebe employees, any one of whom could have helped me or at least acknowledged the fact that the cashier was gone. But they didn’t even look up. It seems that Bebe does not need to make sales to succeed. They just need a bunch of minimally dressed girls to move merchandise around.
I was royally pissed. And now I don’t have a dress.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Le Chaim

It’s time to get ready for Hanukkah. Only two more weeks until the Festival of Lights begins. At this time of year, I find myself embracing my place as a child of Israel. I am intrigued by the Jewish faith and culture, but Hanukkah time is when it captures me the most. I sing about the dreidel, I light the candles on the menorah, or I would had a found a cool one when I was in Prague last year. I celebrate in my own special way. This way includes one gentile and two half Jews, a decorated plunger, latkes, and a revamped dreidel song that gets new and improved stanzas every year. It is the most wonderful celebration and I do not think the tradition will ever die. In fact, this year should be the fifth anniversary of what we call Hanumas.

And yes, we started this long before TV land got the idea, which only feeds into my notion that some Hollywood writer has been having me followed as many of my ideas seem to find their way into the lives of our favorite television characters. I mean come on! I have told you this before, but I am going to repeat it. It’s important. Family Guy had Chris get a pimple which was called Doug. My ex had a huge-normous pimple on his chin that was so big I named it… Doug… and greeted it before I greeted him, every time I saw them. I can’t figure out why he dumped me. Doug emerged on Ex-guy’s chin a good two years before the show reintroduced him as a character. Hmm, I got totally off topic here. That never happens.

Apparently, I can’t just decide to be Jewish. Even if it is only at Hanukkah time. The most brilliant comic genius of our time, Michael Richards, stated that he is Jewish and that is why no one can be mad at him for what he said the other night at the Laugh factory in LA. He was “playing a role”. So he must have Jewish parents right? Nope. Well, then he obviously converted, correct? Huh uh.

What the heck, Michael Richards? You spout off racist remarks against all sorts of groups and then instead of accepting the responsibility for being an ass, you try to make up all sorts of excuses as to why? I would love to say man up and apologize for being such a complete and utter jackass, but honestly, you’ve fallen ever so far. The thing is people are pretty forgiving towards someone who is truly repentant. But you don’t want to deal with it, do you? "He wants to rest," the publicist said. "He's been talking to his psychiatrist."

Yeah, it’s pretty exhausting offending everyone.

Monday, November 27, 2006

Baby Spice is all growed up!

And what has she done? She turned Petula Clark into Petula Tart! The song my brother sang so preciously non-stop at age three has now become an anthem for what kids don't think is real sex these days. (Yeah, I am hedging my words a bit because well, hey! I think if you can't figure out what I am talking about, then you really don't need to know.)
In the video for her version of "Downtown", Emma Bunton gives plenty of direction to her many suitors. (Well, in the beginning of the video which is all I watched until someone told me it was not completely offensive. The rest is all random hotel shenanigans. Still.)
These innocent lyrics have a whole new meaning, and it's all Baby Spice's fault.
"...And you may find somebody kind to help and understand you. Someone who is just like you and needs a gentle hand to guide them along".
PSA: Stop the madness that was the Spice Girls. If Posh Spice's nostrils get any bigger, she will suck Beckham's 9 year old boy chest in and choke. Seriously, how does he not have any pectoral muscles? He is an athlete!?! Though the rest is nice if you can get past that... But, it freaks me out.