April 29, 2009
The Request
My Mom recently had back surgery, after months of being in pain. Don't freak out -- she's well on her way back to health and mobility. But in the days immediately preceeding her surgery, I went over to her house to vacuum, and I went grocery shopping for her. Because, apparently, my RETIRED father can't do those things.
Knowing him, if I gave him any shit about it, he'd just grunt something like, "I didn't get married and have three daughters so that I could do housework!" And then he'd dip a stick in mud and diagram his indignation on the wall with crude stick figures.
No matter. Mommie Dearest wiped my butt, my nose and my tears for many, many years, so I'm glad for the opportunities to repay her. The other day, I had another such phone message waiting for me when I got home from work:
MD: Hello! It's me. I'm wondering if you could help me.
PW: [Okay. What can't Dad do this time?]
MD: My back is feeling better, but it's still not perfect, and I haven't been able to reach my feet in six months.
PW: [This does not bode well.]
MD: My toenails are pretty bad.
PW: [Dear God, no. Please, don't ask me.]
MD: Your father is far-sighted, so I don't want him to do it.
PW: [She's really going to ask me. It's like I'm staring at a train speeding right for me, but I can't get out of the way.]
MD: So I was wondering...
PW: [NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!]
MD: Where do you go to get your pedicures? Call me back! Bye!
PW: [THANK YOU, JEEBUS! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!]
So I called her and told her, and she asked, "Your father wants to know if they do men's toes, too."
"Yes. But he'd better give her a HUGE tip! I've seen that man's feet!"
Seriously, his toenails are like tree bark. Uck.
Posted at 08:20 AM | Comments (1)April 27, 2009
"The Girl Who Gets Fat"
Previously on "America's Next Top Model,"... oh, I've forgotten everything because of that damn recap episode. Enh, I'm sure we'll have no trouble catching-up.
Allison is disturbed that she always looks the same in her photos and blames her weird-ass eyes. Celia confesses that she has to think of sex to get a good photo.
Tyra Mail! "A top model knows how to be direct." Teyona believes it means they'll "be leaving to go, ya know, abroad."
Celia asks London about her street preaching. London is trying to keep her "relationship with God at 110% because he's the reason that I'm here." I didn't know that Jeebus was an ANTM fan! I wonder if he reads my blog...?
The girls arrive at some shoot where Jay Manuel explains what the hell his job is anyway -- hair, make-up, lighting, style. And I believe his hair is now actually perrywinkle. Their challenge is to do his job for the day, and to help judge them is Seventeen editor Ann Shoket.
The clothes they'll be modeling are by "important designer" South Pole. I hate that phrase -- important designer. I'm sorry, I love clothes as much as the next gal, but the people who design them just AREN'T important. Not in the grand scheme of things. They're not curing anything or saving anyone or advancing a plan to stop world hunger. Just shutthefuckup and make a cute hoodie, okay?
The look of the shoot will be "street with attitude." The winner gets to be in an editorial fashion spread in Seventeen.
Natalie has Teyone all ghetto-fied. Oooh, the girls choose each other's final shots. I guess they could sabotage each other, except that a crappy shot would also jeopardize themselves... Will someone throw themself under a bus and hope their past work will save them, in order to get rid of an opponent? Is anyone here that clever and daring?
Teyone's "walking" photos "look awkward instead of stylish," according to Jay. And he's right.
Allison is totally into the creative work with Aminat. Jay isn't loving her lack of continuity, but Aminat's final photo looks fab.
London has gained 10 to 15 lbs. since casting, so she and Fo try to find something that won't make her look fat. Although, if Fo is thinking, she'll pick adorable clothes that accentuate London's dumpiness. Geez, do I have to teach these girls how to be evil?
Aminat knows enough to put her hateful, vengeful feelings towards Natlaie behind her and put on her "professional face," but Aminat still fucks up and doesn't get Natalie ready in time. Natalie's final shot isn't even good enough for a Target flyer.
Teyone's vision for Celia is "project diva." Hee! Jay is impressed with her work but hates the final shot that she chooses.
London makes Allison into, basically, a clone of herself, right down to the ugly-ass headband. Jay loves Allison's make-up but hates the rest of her.
Jay and Ann judge the girls, and Teyona wins! She says, "It just touched my heart." Awwwwwwww. That's kinda cute and... odd. She gets to pick two friends, so she picks her model, Celia, and her sistah, Aminat. Fo feels left out cuz she thought that she was Teyona's "homie in the house."
Tyra Mail! "You haven't had too much R&R. Maybe it's time for some R&B."
Jay shows up at the house at the crack of cow-milking, while the girls are still asleep. Hmm, that kind of has a creepy factor for me. Allison is horrified because she "looks like a woodland creature." Which is actually spot on.
Hair and make-up come to the house this time, and I'm LOVING and COVETING the girls' smokey, sultry eyes. I seriously need my own hair and make-up person. Just think -- a blow-out and smokey eyes every day!
The doorbell rings, and Jay has Aminat answer the door. It's someone named Ciara, who is apparently a big deal in the R&B world. She's really pretty, I'll give her that. And she suffers Aminat's dry-humping with unwavering grace.
Everyone goes to Webster Hall so they can pose with Ciara on stage, "twined in her microphone cord." Nice English, Jay.
London is not happy about the bare-all outfits for the day, which basically look like the girls are wrapped in duct tape. And mind you, it's not like she's fat. It's just that now her thighs touch a little.
She gets a lecture from Jay on her weight and treating her body like a temple. She totally cops to it because what else can she do? Jay blah-blahs about "eating a balanced diet," but we all know it's time for our good friend bulemia to step in.
Celia and Teyona rock the house. Natalie's hair is ridiculously big. Like her ego. Jay gets pissed at Allison, but that actually brings some good photos outta her. Aminat is the worst of the day.
Tyra Mail! Judging!
The girls chit-chat in the bathroom, and London apparently thinks that God is testing her by putting her in a modeling competition and then making her fat. Boy, and I thought God liked to mess with ME!
At judging, Tyra is giving her usual schpiel when a young man in a Speedo saunters in bearing gifts from his country. Ah, the gift is Brazil nuts! The girls are going to Brazil! So of COURSE Miss J is going to put fruit on his head!
Natalie is "stunning and fabulous," but up close, her face is scary.
Aminat seems "lost," like she's just reclining and waiting for grapes.
The judges fawn all over Celia and her photo. I still think she's a horseface.
Teyona is getting the first photo this week, I'll bet.
London has a "strange tension in her face." And Miss J just lays it all on the carpet by asking her what she's eating. Mean!
Fo looks adorable in the dress she's wearing to judging, and they eat up her photo, too.
Allison proves that she's not a one-trick pony by pulling off a photo where she looks "more like a ferocious cat," according to Nigel.
Ooh. Allison makes the serious flub of telling Ruiz the photographer that this shoot was her favorite, with Nigel sitting right next to him. Faux pas! Dueling photographers! Allison wants to die and totally cops to messing up. The judges give her shit about not going to Brazil, and she's clearly about to cry.
You know, she was trying to make a point about it being the shoot where she was forced to really leave her comfort zone -- which is what they've been at her to do -- but I guess they'd rather give her shit than listen to what she's learned. Assholes.
Deliberations!
Natalie gave a great picture. Aminat would be great for runway but not for print. Celia may be just a great stylist. Teyona consistantly gives good photos. London's eyes have that perma-smile that Tyra loves, but she's a fatty. Allison has a fantastic face but is a yawn.
Teyona gets the first photo -- I called it! And then Fo, Natalie, Celia and Allison. Aminat and London are in the Bottom Two. No, not Aminat! Oh, thank God. She's going to Brazil! But London is not.
London hugs all the girls individually. She thought that she'd be upset with God, but she's not. Well, she should be! He totally smote her thighs!
Next episode: The girls go to Brazil, and Fo says, "Screw you, bitches."
Oh, and here are some random photos from the website of the girls in Brazil wearing horribly offensive Brazilian-esque clothes: Allison, Aminat, Celia, Fo and Teyona. Hmmm, no Natalie. Methinks the CW may have put up some photos prematurely...? But we all knew she was going home anyway.
April 24, 2009
Existentialism at the Second Grade Level
Remember when I saved Spikette's immortal soul by helping her plan a lesson for her Sunday School class? I think I was a bit vague in the backstory, so let me break down for you the Sunday School system at our church.
A topic is selected by someone in Plotzville, Alabama, who has never interacted with an actual human child in his/her life. Our Sunday School system spends SIX WEEKS pounding said topic into impressionable young minds using various techniques. The topic may be a concept like "stewardship," a person like Mary of Magdelene, or a Bible story like Joshua at Jericho.
The age groups rotate through different stations each Sunday, with each station presenting the current lesson or subject in a specific way. I.e., they watch a DVD about it in the AV Room, they read about it in the Library, or they re-enact it on the Drama Stage.
Spikette volunteered to run the Drama Stage all year. When she asked for my help with a lesson, she was teaching third graders. This time, writes Spikette...
I forgot to let you know how last week went with the 2nd graders. Veeeeeery strange. The premise was the same: make a short play on how you can be a good shepard and help others.Group One, 4 kids: One girls stood in the center of the gym hypnotizing 2 kids by calling out types of candies in a dreamy voice. The two kids fall off the stage (literally) in a hypnotic state. Then one says, "I want some candy." And the girl says, "I don't have any." The kid runs after her, and she finally throws him a piece of candy. The fourth kid never did anything (that I recall). The lesson? Giving people candy (apparently reluctantly).
Group Two, 3 kids: One girl stands up and recites the 10 commandments (she got to 3 on her own, we helped with a few more and left it at that). One boy acted out the commandments and the other girl just stood there.
I'm so glad I have a real lesson to teach this week, although I better look it over because there's still not enough material for a whole class. The lesson is Mary, Jesus's Mother. There are two scripts I can use. Both short and one just has two kids. Only 3 weeks left of Sunday School. Then, I'm never doing Drama again!!!!!!!
... I don't even know what to say. Hypnotic candy? Was the first girl shepherding her flock by enabling their candy addiction? Was the candy symbolic of something else, or open to everyone's own interpretation?
Frankly, I'm surprised that a seven year old could recite three of the Ten Commandments. Although unrelated to the day's topic, I think that's pretty good. Let's see how far Wenchie can get...
1. Thou shalt not have any other gods, I don't care how awesome "Guitar Hero II" is.
2. Thou shalt not commit adultery, and this includes any sex outside of your own marriage, so yeah, it sucks.
3. Thou shalt not steal.
4. Thou shalt remember the sabbath and keep it holy. Does anyone even know what this means anymore?
5. Thou shalt not kill. Unless it's war sanctioned by your government. Then it's perfectly fine and, indeed, encouraged!
6. Thou shalt not covet anything that belongs to your neighbor, so basically, just stay indoors and pull down all your shades.
7. Hmmm...
Yeah, I'm going to take this opportunity to reiterate: Not. Pastor. Material.
Hypnotic candy. Hee!
Posted at 11:32 AM | Comments (1)April 22, 2009
Rolo Bits
Remember a few years ago, when it was all the rage for candy makers to make their candy in tiny versions of itself? Like Poppables, or something?
The Rolo version of poppable candy was like crack for me. I don't particularly care for the adult-sized version of Rolos, as they tend to glue your jaw shut. But the baby ones? Rolo Bits, I believe? They were the perfect ratio of chocolate-to-caramel. I couldn't get enough of them. For one weekend on vacation, I ate nothing but Rolo Bits and milk. Unhealthy? Yes. Regretable? Eventually. Worth it? FUCK YEAH.
And Rolo Bits were special because, unlike the other candies that were just round little pellets, Rolo Bits maintained the shape of original Rolos -- only smaller. It's like Rolo Bits were designed by adolescent, Japanese girls! So tiny! So desirable!
But apparently, Rolo Bits have gone the way of New Coke and Carnation Instant Breakfast Bars. I just can't find them anymore.
(Carnation Instant Breakfast Bars are another loss I am coping with. But I can't go into it here. One day at a time, Wenchie. One day at a time.)
And I really wanted some to bake them into chocolate chip cookies. So they would be Rolo Bits cookies. I'm devastated. It's frightening to know that I will have this life-long, unfulfilled craving.
I mean, I am 99.99% certain that I will never get to have sex with Bruce Campbell. He's married, I'm married, he lives in another state, he keeps renewing the restraining order. But at least Bruce Campbell exists somewhere in the world. There is always that 0.01% chance that someday, we will be trapped together in the elevator of a burning building, facing certain death, with only desparate, sweaty sex to keep our minds off our impending doom... not that I've given it much thought.
But Rolo Bits cookies? That will never happen. Because they don't exist. There is not even a pathetic 0.01% change that I will ever have Rolo Bits cookies.
That is so depressing.
I'm sorry, world. I did not consume enough Rolo Bits when they were on the market. I could not keep the poppable industry alive. I have failed you.
Posted at 06:30 AM | Comments (2)April 20, 2009
"The Girl Who Acts Like a Lady"
Previously on "America's Next Top Model," I kinda had to admit that Clay Aiken is a tiny bit cool. Now that he's out of the closet. Oh, and Burnie went home.
It's a recap show. Or rather, as Tyra promises, this recap episode will be chock full o' stuff we haven't seen before. I hope so. I frakkin' hate recaps.
Oh wait. Okay, I'm only going to recap the stuff we haven't seen before.
Ew, pre-makeover models! They're so ugly! Ack! London's headbands! Hey, it's Angelea! Remember her? She tried to throw down with Sandra? Awwww, I miss her. I think she'll be back in future episodes.
Then we're treated to a montage of Celia "breaking down" the other girls, at Tyra's request. And by "breaking down," I mean into short, consise, three-word descriptions of each girl. Bitchy, yet eerily accurate. And we are reminded of exactly why we hate Sandra, i.e. because she's a bitch who hogs the mirror.
There's some scavenger hunt from the top of the Empire State Building, regarding New York landmarks. Celia wins the keys to the house. There, the girls worship at the altar of the runway, and Aminat does a kind of hillbilly slap-dance. In nerd glasses. And it's kind of awesome.
Oh! It's Nijah that Sandra had a run-in with when she was hogging the mirror. And now Sandra continues to push Nijah's buttons by asking her such questions as, "Are you a college drop-out?" And, "Are you a plus-size model?" Day-um!
The other girls are trying to figure out if Sandra really is a bitch, or if she just doesn't realize what she's doing. *pfft* Okay, gather 'round, kiddies. Here's a lesson from Mama Wenchie. Bitches ALWAYS know they are being bitches.
And then there's another montage -- this one, of Sandra trying to pretend that she's not a bitch by telling Nijah that she's not a bad person. Nijah's not buying it, and neither is America.
Oh my God. Little Miss Wednesday Allison Addams draws a picture of a girl with a bright red nosebleed. Disturbing!
Hey, more makeover drama! YAY! Okay, that's lame. One shot of Celia crying over her shortened hair. Jip!
Aminat and Teyona walk the living room runway, and then strip. Yup, they strip right down to their pixelated nipples and bush. In an interview, Sandra... okay, I have to write this out vertabim. With stage directions.
Sandra: Whoa, like, are you serious? Are you really, really serious? I don't feel like Aminat should be America's next top model because she just does not act like a lady. [puts finger into nose and pulls it out]
Record: *scrrraaatch*
Crickets: Chirp. Chirp.
Sandra: [stares wide-eyed into the camera] Sorry, America, I just picked my nose on t.v.
You guys, judging by her delivery, I don't even think she was trying to be funny or ironic. I really think she absentmindedly got rid of a boogie that was bugging her, on national television.
Pure. Awesome.
If you would like to experience Pure Awesome for yourself, go here and start watching at about 17:00. Enjoy!
Remember the challenge where they had to sell Cover Girl's sparkley mascara? We get to see the photo shoot that Celia, Aminat and Sandra won. The girls model l.e.i. clothes for a WalMart ad. Well, I guess they have to start somewhere, huh?
Montages! This is totally the montage episode. We see a montage of Natalie napping in every possible situation, and Fo crying and crying and crying and crying.
Allison, Celia and Kortnie build a bird house. Yawn.
Hey, remember the pose-off the girls had to do in front of all those queens? Celia wins, and her prize is that she gets to keep her dress or pick one of the other girls' dresses. And she gets to pick a friend to keep their dress, too.
But Celia asks, "I get to snatch two for myself or pick a friend to keep?" Now, kudos to her for working the word snatch into polite conversation, but clearly, keeping two dresses for herself was NOT what Benny Ninja meant. But queens do love a bitch, so they let her choose another dress, and she chooses Allison's.
For some reason, this event causes Celia and Allison to fall in love with each other, which they admit on national television. The other girls call them Frick & Frack, Thing One & Thing Two, and Dumb & Dumber. Hee!
You ever notice that Tyra says "uh-liminated" instead of "E-liminated"? Kinda annoys me.
Another montage! This one of Sandra repeating herself over and over and over during arguments, possibly because her command of the English language is kind of limited, so she has to stick with what she knows. Which is insults.
Okay, I'm so tired of Celia's three-piece suit. She is no Annie Lennox.
Hee! Montage of Sandra saying, on what are clearly many different days, "I am here to be America's next top model."
Hey, Toccara's here! When was Toccara here? I missed Toccara?! The girls ask her for her first impressions of them, and she calls Sandra "closed." This causes Sandra to burst into tears and use that old bitch stand-by excuse for her behavior, "I was picked on a lot in middle school."
But Aminat keeps it real with, "We were all picked on, a'ight? Gimme a break!" Word.
Hee! Filthy house montage! Ew. I would go absolutely batshitty in that place.
At the Cover Girl commercial shoot, McKey shows up with a homemade chocolate cake. Adorable! Also? Passive-aggressive! Feeding cake to the wanna-be Cover Girl competition. Love it!
Hey, Celia? Jay Leno called. He wants his chin back.
Seven girls remain! Allison, the intrigueing oddball. Teyona with the mile-high cheekbones. London, the pretty and pious girl. Natalie, the sexy stunner. Celia, the shrewd and sophisticated girl. Aminat, the brassy and beautiful girl. Fo, the adorable free-spirit.
Of course, those are Tyra's descriptions. Here are mine:
Allison, the Marie Osmond vampire doll. Teyona, soon to star in "Teyona vs. Predator." London, the used car salesman. Natalie, the stuck-up bitch. Celia, the horse-faced shrew. Aminat, Wenchie's pick to win. And Fo, cute but lame.
Don't worry, there's a real episode airing this week.
Posted at 01:15 PM | Comments (0)April 16, 2009
God Is My Blog
Yesterday morning in chapel, the gospel choir sang...
Yeah, I'm really starting a blog entry like that. God, I hate myelf.
So they're singing:
God is!
[God is!]
My ev-er-y-thiiiing!
And while this is going on in the background, the lead singer ad libs some things that God Is, i.e. "my brother and sister," "my prince of peace," "my shelter from the storm," etc.
So now, of course, I have this gospel song going through my head. And while my little back-up singers -- who are wearing fringe and white go-go boots and are all in cages -- sing "God is my everything!" My lead singer, who is... well, me, is ad libbing about what God is.
God Is!
My mother and father!
God Is!
My plumber and mailman!
God Is!
My shelter from taxes!
God Is!
My burger and fries!
God Is!
My Google and Yahoo!
God Is!
My Prince spaghetti!
God Is!
My black, leather Coach bag!
God Is!
My last day of work!
That's right, brothers and sisters, Pastor Wenchie has left the building. At 4:00 yesterday.
Remember all my bitching and whining about having to find a fulltime job? (To be distinguished from all your other bitching and whining HOW, Wenchie?) Well, the Bible tells us that God has a wicked sense of humor -- what with the smoting and wandering and sacrificing and all -- and the Bible is right. Because God heard my prayer and answered it, completely to my detriment.
Okay, God! I get it! You can stop F-ing with me now!
Yeah, the position I was temping in -- the position I applied for and almost had in my grasp -- was eliminated in the last round of budget cuts.
So.
Here I am. It's 9:00 a.m., and I'm still in my jammies, unshowered. The only thing I've managed to accomplish today is making French toast for breakfast. After I burned the oatmeal. (Fuck you, oatmeal! If you were easier to make, I wouldn't have to eat something bad for me! Look what you made me do!!!)
Posted at 08:57 AM | Comments (2)April 14, 2009
"The Girls Who Suck"
Previously on "America's Next Top Model," Wenchie couldn't believe the previews when the girls screamed excitedly at the prospect of meeting... Clay Aiken.
(By the way, I'm actually watching this episode on my computer at work and blogging while I'm watching because it was pre-empted by a friggin' baseball game on Wednesday, and then I completely whiffed the re-run on Friday.)
And right away, Natalie starts in with some dramatic shit! Yay!
Someone apparently really knows how to cook because they've got this whole Thanksgiving-esque feast... or perhaps it really is Thanksgiving. I have no idea when this was taped. Anyway, everyone cleans their own dishes and helps clean up from the meal... except Natalie, who is shouting encouragements to them from the couch in the living room.
"Good job, guys! Thanks for cleaning up!"
Well, the other girls are having none of that, as you may expect. They give each other oh-no-she-di'in't faces and talk about her uncanny resemblance to a female dog.
Teyona is all, "I am not her maid!" Oh, I hear you, honey.
Hearing the names they are calling her -- because these girls are anything but demure -- Natalie huffs and gets off the couch and tries to pull the I-was-just-joking bullshit. And then. And THEN, ladies and gentlemen, she drops the following bomb:
"I'm sorry that I live in a nice community and you don't."
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Did she just apologize for being used to having maids, while insinuating the other girls are from the ghetto or something?! Yeah, that's not going to sit well. Natalie tries to talk her way out of the whole thing but only ends up sounding even worse, so Aminat sends her to her room.
Tyra Mail! "Tomorrow you will be molded into a fine piece of Clay." Ew. Just ew.
They arrive at a theatre, where Paulina is hosting the day's festivities. The girls are brought forward in pairs to say the same line in different ways. And when you put Celia with Aminat, it really accentuates what a horse-face Celia is. I'm kind of falling in love with Aminat. I think she has a good shot at being in the Final Three.
After seeing Natalie's performance, Paulina quips, "Okay, maybe some of you will be more... beauty models." As opposed to... ugly models? Actually, I believe that was Paulina's little dig on Natalie's lack of basic acting skills.
Let's face it, all the girls are pretty lame. Tahlia's lameness stands out most because she can't even follow Paulina's simple requests. And now I'm annoyed with Tahlia again, and I want her to go home.
Paulina gives the girls their scripts, and while some of the girls take the time to read and rehearse them, Tahlia uses her time to rehearse the parting interview that she'll give tonight after she gets sent home.
So blah, blah, blah, Paulina gives Clay this HUGE build-up of an introduction, and I'm sure the girls are expecting someone, you know, awesome. Wait a minute? Clay Aiken is currently in "Spamalot" on Broadway? Good God, I'm so glad wasn't in the cast that came to Chicago. Bleh.
The girls scream and flail like the rent is due, and I have to believe there wasn't much reality in that particular reality-show scene. Fo calls him "pretty much a genius." And if Clay Aiken is a genius, then I am pretty much Supreme Ruler of the Universe, and you may all address me as such from now on.
We get to see snippets of the girls' scenes. And, Natalie, honey? When Paulina Porizwhatever and Clay Aiken say that you "have a little bit of an attitude," then you are in the Bottom Two, FO SHO! Personally, I saw less attitude and more high-school-play in Natalie, but whatever. I'm too busy surpremely ruling the universe to make an issue out of it.
Okay, Clay is kind of awesome, but then, it is kind of type-casting to make him the bitchy fag designer. Celia sends the Over-Acting Meter off the scale.
The winner gets $5,000 worth of merchandise from Joe's Jeans. Paulina annouces London as the winner, and Celia visibly bristles. London screams and then adorably cringes at her own over-reaction.
Her bag o' swag is waiting for her back at the house, and it sure is a teeny-weeny bag for five grand worth of clothes. London takes them out and looks at them but doesn't try them on because -- BIG REVEAL -- she's been struggling with her weight lately. And they probably sent over all size 0 without even asking.
Upon hearing London confess that she can't fit her fat ass into the jeans, the other girls start pawing over the jeans and trying them on, which I think is a bit presumptuous.
Tyra Mail! "Do you play well with others? It's time to find out." I think we all know the answer to that.
Allison says, "We're all kind of thinking... men?" Even though they all have boyfriends. I'm keeping my fingers crosssed for another Shandi moment!
McKey is at the shoot shilling for Cover Girl's latest schlock TRUblend microminerals foundation, which the girls are going to shoot a commercial for. Teyona, Aminat, Celia and Allison are one group. Hee! Natalie, Fo, London and Tahlia is the other. Hee again! Dare we hope that they'll disobey Tyra and Jay and not work well together? Natalie kicks things off by calling the rest of the girls in her group "little hicks." Wheeee!
The first group of girls suck ass in front of the camera, while Mama McKey lets the others pick wisdom from her brain. Y'all can write your own punchline for that. We see a lot of Allison talking about how much she sucks, so I think we can assume she's in the Bottom Two with Tahlia.
Tyra Mail! Judging, bitches! Clay is the guest judge and perhaps the only person in the room wearing more makeup than Miss Jay.
We are forced to watch all the girls' commercials. They tell Celia that she comes off kind of old. Teyona is natural but also kinda crazy.
Allison gets ragged on for wearing the same dress twice to judging. London, too, gets a wardrobe critique when Paulina tells her not to wear those shorts again. And I have to agree. Formal shorts on chunky thighs -- not a good combo.
Natalie doesn't relate to the other girls in the shoot. Fo stumbles on her lines. Nigel tells Tahlia that she is "great background."
Deliberations! You know what, y'all? This is all crap that you've heard before, so I'm not going to get into it. Plus, this review is getting way too long. Again. Let me just say that Clay Aiken is Thee Most Opinionated and Outspoken guest judge they have ever had.
Before handing out photos, Tyra rags on them for having the worst group of commercials ever. Except for Celia. Nyah. The rest of the girls are called until Allison and Tahlia are left in the Bottom Two, just as I predicted.
Allison is an editorial one-trick pony. The camera loves Tahlia, but she doesn't love the camera. So who stays? Allison, who is told to get a personality.
Tahlia interviews that, even though she was her own worst enemy during the competition, she's still a role model to other burn victims because she made it as far as she did. I guess I can give her that.
Next episode: The girls direct each others' photo shoots, and someone named Sierre shows up.
Posted at 02:46 PM | Comments (1)April 13, 2009
The Gospel According to Wenchie
This is not good. I am getting a reputation. The reputation of being The Churchy Person. I KNOW! The irony is killing me! But apparently, I am now the go-to person for all of my family's gospel-related needs. There goes all my street cred!
Spikette teaches Sunday School. Yes, a woman who wants to do lurid things with the bleach-blonde undead is leading America's youth to spiritual salvation. Glory hallelujah!
So Spikette called me and was like, "You work at that churchy place. I have a question about a Bible passage."
For her Sunday School class, made up of 3rd graders, the cirriculum called for Spikette to somehow tie together Abraham's near-slaughter of his son Isaac (my least-fav Bible story), shepherds and lost sheep, and some sort of dramatic puppet show. And make it all relatable to eight-year olds.
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No, really. And she's not even getting paid!
Clearly, she was at a loss, so she turned to me -- Your Helpful Neighborhood Theologin. Who doesn't really like children. Or teaching. Or puppets. Shepherds I like. But I digress.
Yes, I've read the Bible. It bored the shit outta me, but I read it because I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. My favorite story, which doesn't get told very often, is the one about Balaam and his talking donkey, but there I go, digressing again.
Inspired by the talking donkey, I pulled a Sunday School sacrifice-shepherd-drama lesson right outta my ass. Pun intended.
I told her to forget the Bible lesson because it's creepy and disturbing to small children; instead, focus on the shepherd-protecting-his-sheep aspect of the day; have the kids break into small groups and come up with a three-minute skit about how they can be a "shepherd" to a lost sheep in their daily lives; discuss amongst the class.
Am I not brilliant? Perhaps I should rethink this whole seminary thing...
Yeah, RIGHT.
I made Spikette promise to tell me how it went and got this response:
Thank you for your great Sunday School suggestion. We had 2 groups of 3rd graders making up a skit on a) either how to be kind to others or b) how to help those who are "lost".One group of three had a girl asking her friend for money for breakfast, since she didn't eat yet. The boy said no. Then Jesus came and told him to give the girl money. She gave a dollar, Jesus said more. She gave another one, Jesus said more. She threw in another dollar, so the girl had a whole $3 for breakfast!!!
The other group of 4 had a girl who kept stealing. The devil was on one shoulder telling her to do it; an angel was on the other shoulder telling her not to. Then God would come out after each theft and say "You should not steal. Just for that, you have to go to church". In the end, she gave everything back.
For 5-10 minutes of prep time, it wasn't bad. We had lots of time for discussing how to help those who are lost and how to be a good Christian with ways to help others.
HA! Two things that I love. Okay, three -- the first being that I am awesome.
I love that Jesus resorted to peer pressure. And I love that church is a punishment. A little peek into the spiritual minds of 3rd graders.
What the hell kind of breakfast is she supposed to get for three bucks?!
Posted at 10:20 AM | Comments (2)April 09, 2009
The Reverend Pirate Wench
Happy Maundy Thursday, everyone! And Blessed Good Friday and Happy Easter, as well, because I know those AT&T asshats aren't going to fix my internet before Monday. Opps! Probably shouldn't mention our Savior's resurrection and asshat in the same sentence!
How 'bout some church talk for this Christian high-holiday weekend?
After my Assisting Minister gig, no fewer than three people asked me if I'd ever considered going to seminary. As in, school where you learn to be a pastor. By the third inquiry, I'd gotten pretty good at keeping the look of Are-you-fucking-nuts??? from my face.
Would it shock you to know that there's more than one good reason I shouldn't be a pastor?
1. I don't do high collars or turtlenecks. I only do V-necks. I don't want a career that involves a wardrobe change. I'd have to, like, have a pastor collar tattooed onto my neck or something.
2. I like the message of the New Testament. "Love one another," the eleventh commandment, given by Jesus to his disciples, is just darn good advice. But I'm terrible at following it, especially when I'm in the car.
3. The whole born-of-a-virgin, bestowed-with-magical-powers, rose-from-the-dead thing? I think we're missing some pieces of the story. I also don't get the logic of someone dying to save my soul. Couldn't God just save me because He wanted to? He's God! And I'm kind of uncomfortable with some nice man enduring horrible torture for the salvation of my sorry ass.
I'm not knocking faith. Frankly, I wish I had it. I wish it all made sense to me and was something beautiful I could cling to in difficult times. But my brain isn't programmed that way. I question everything. I am constantly playing devil's advocate in my mind. I need more information before I make any kind of decision, which is pretty much the definition of non-faith.
And what the hell kind of pastor doesn't believe in The Greatest Story Ever Told? Well, no kind because they'd never make it past the examination panel. Can you imagine my sermons?
"Easter is the day we celebrate Jesus' triumph over the grave! Or at least, the best practical joke ever. I mean, he wasn't on the cross that long, and some people did survive crucifixion. Perhaps it was all an awesome prank that Jesus and his pals played on the Romans! You know, fake his own death to get outta town, or to avoid paying taxes or whatever. Brilliant! Now let's sing a hymn because that's really the best part about Easter anyway -- great music! Oh, and chocolate! May the force be with you!"
The congregation would stone me to death right up there in the pulpit.
My friend Beatrix was one of the well-intentioned crazy people who mentioned me becoming a pastor.
"What?!" I exclaimed. "I'd be a terrible pastor!"
"No, you wouldn't! You have a good heart! You just have to stop doing evil things."
This was very disconcerting to me. Not because she thinks I'm evil -- Lord knows I am! But I was like, Wait a minute? What evil things have I done that Beatrix knows about? Most of my evilness happens in my brain, or my car. So what tipped her off?
Oh, right, the horns. I try to keep them covered with my bangs, but it is often windy when Beatrix and I go to lunch.
Posted at 03:54 PM | Comments (3)April 08, 2009
"The Girls Who Behave Way Too Maturely For This Show"
Okay, before I start all this recap business, I have to take a moment to bitch about AT&T.
First, our phone was disconnected for several days, which means that our internet was also not working. Now, I certainly don't mind the phone staying quiet for days at a time, especially since it's mayorial election season in my home town, and I'm reeeaaally tired of political phone calls. But Wenchie not having 24/7 access to my blog is UNTHINKABLE.
Now, I thought it was because I am ghetto and paid our bill late. And it's just like AT&T to turn off our phone because our check arrived three minutes late. But it turns out that, no, they didn't turn it off. It's just that their service sucks and went out on its own.
TWO -- count 'em -- TWO service calls later, we had our phone connection back. And we had internet for about a day, and then it went out again. Phone is still on. Internet is not.
It's been since THURSDAY, people. THURSDAY!!! Normally, I change my icons and subheadings at the beginning of every month. But I haven't been able to. Nor have I been able to recap last Wednesday's episode of "America's Next Top Model" because it's just too involved of a post to do at work. Very link-intensive and all.
Therefore, I will do a very half-assed -- or even quarter-assed -- recap here, and then ask you all to send good karma vibes to my internet connection. Maybe there will be an Easter miracle!
Previously on "America's Next Top Model," Celia embarassed herself by sticking her nose in Tahlia's bid'ness and getting sassy with Mama Tyra.
Tahlia and Celia sit down and talk about what happened at eliminations. Nothing is really resolved, but at least they are calm, open and mature. Which is to say -- the exact opposite of everyone else in the house, who have taken sides and gotten all up in each others' grills.
The girls have a face-making practice session with Beth, Howard Stern's wife, who has had a really bad nose job. One of those nose jobs where they make the nose freakishly thin and end up looking like an alien, but not the good kind of alien that seduces human men to build a hybrid race to rule the universe.
They all pretty much suck, except for Natalie, who wins the challenge, and then is a total douche about it. Natch.
At this week's photoshoot, all the girls have to represent a color, which is haphazardly blown on their faces. Here are their photos:
Pink Allison went for girly but, apparently, "has no range," according to Jay. However, the judges love her photo.
Green Aminat was going for "earthy," whereas I would've gone for "envy," but whatever. The judges "love her lips" and think that she "nailed it."
Grey Celia gives her "most relaxed face ever" (which is a back-handed compliment if I ever heard one), but the judges are still seething about the crap she pulled last week.
Red Fo does just freakin' fabulous. The judges see a bit of Janice in her (JANICE!!!), and I want to eat her with tortilla chips and sour cream. Tyra calls her "Mama's pupil" because she's "smiling with her eyes."
Blue London is "pure genius" at the shoot, but at panel, they come up with a photo where she's giving the same face as the previous week. I smell sabotage.
Orange Natalie gets told by Jay, "You needed those extra frames [you won in the challenge]." The judges think that she just plain "doesn't photograph well."
White Sandra (which is the first time those words have been used together) tried for "peaceful" and "angelic," but the judges don't like her face straight-on.
Purple Tahlia got all flirty with the camera man, and in her photo, "her eyes draw you in." But she's "a drip in person."
Yellow Teyona "can't smile" because she looks like she's "selling denture cream." But Tyra thinks she's a "brown girl next door."
Fo gets called first for photos. Yay! Sandra and Celia are left in the Bottom Two. Sandra for being ugly on the outside, and Celia for being ugly on the inside. Sandra goes home and interviews that... well, I'm sure you can guess. We don't need to hear any more from her.
Tyra tells Celia, "I hope you learned your lesson. You don't mess with another girl's money." Words to live by. And I'm not even being sarcastic. (Jill.)
Next episode: Clay Aiken. Really?
Posted at 03:41 PM | Comments (0)April 07, 2009
I'm Regular
I'm quite proud of myself. After a less-than-stellar beginning to 2009, I have been darn good at blogging three times a week lately. And what with my pending unemployment, it can only get better, right?
Even my Mom has noticed the change. And it's nice to get an email from her that isn't all, "Your lack of blogging is ruining my life!"
When I was little, I seriously suspected that she and my father procreated for the sole purpose of having little slaves to order around. Because, you know, we were oh-so obedient. Number of Old Styles fetched from the downstairs fridge circa 1975 to 1988: 1,375,002.
Lately, I've started to suspect that she had three daughters in the hopes that at least one of them would be able to keep her entertained in her golden years. And I am. That Daugther.
Anyhoo, here is Mom's email:
I am SO glad you are back to blogging regularly. It brightens my day (when it doesn't cause me to gasp). But you're pretty and I still love you. Love, Mommie Dearest
This woman slays me! I swear to God! I laughed embarassingly loud at work the first time I read it.
Now, is it just me, or is there some hidden subtext in this email? Something along the lines of, "Your blogging makes life worth living, and since you will soon be jobless, I will pay you to blog every day."
Yeah, I'm pretty sure.
Posted at 08:56 AM | Comments (1)April 03, 2009
What Up, Birthday Girl!
Tomorrow is Heather's BBQ Birthday Bash (all parties titles must alliterate -- it's the law). Also the law: never show up to a birthday party empty-handed. I don't care what Mr. Heather's gracious invitation said -- gifts on birthdays are NOT optional!
Therefore, today after work, I will be driving, during rush hour, to a very specific store several towns away, to buy Heather's birthday present. Because my Mama raised me right!
I will be attending Heather's party; however, Husband will not. Why? Because he can't stand to be around Heather and I when we're together. He has come right out and said it, and I can't get mad at him. Not even a little bit. Because he is absolutely 100% justified. The word INTOLERABLE doesn't even begin to describe Heather and I as a set.
Don't get me wrong -- he likes Heather and genuinely enjoys her company... when I'm in the other room. He thinks Heather is a total crack-up, when I read her text messages to him. But when she comes over, he hides. And rightly so.
Separately, we are both fairly decent people. We are kind and tolerant with co-workers, even the ones who don't deserve it. We are fiercely loyal to our families and would cheerfully commit horrible crimes to protect them (or, let's be honest, to amuse them). We have many friends whom we don't even have to sleep with in order to keep them around.
We are witty, gracious, talented, well-groomed and beloved.
Except when we're together. The sum of our whole is faaaaar less than the sum of our parts. We are catty, immature, rude, crude, sacralicious, racist, kitten-hating, baby-eating spawn of Beelzebub.
No one wants to be around us. Hell, we don't even want to be around us. I will have to be on my very best behavior tomorrow so that Mr. Heather doesn't eviscerate me with grilling tongs. He was once trapped in a car with us while we sang along with the entire soundtrack of "Wicked." In harmony. With dialogue.
"Alfie... now that we're friends..."
And that little tidbit alone, delivered appropos of nothing, in the middle of Canton Tea Garden, is enough to send Heather into hysterics, simply because it was uttered by me.
You see? We are even more annoying because we make no sense. No one listening to our conversation would ever think we are funny, or even think we are speaking English. I cannot stress enough just how genuinely stupid and asshatty we are together.
Take, for instance, this photo...
...first posted here in June of 2006, when I was rambling on and on about eBay.
Heather took one look at that photo, named it "What up, bitches!" and proceeded to laugh herself to internal bleeding.
And of course, if Heather is laughing about something, then it automatically becomes funny to me, too, even if I have no idea what I'm laughing about. Html coding? Hilarious! Mutual funds? Farcical! Russian literature? Riotous!
What Up, Bitches! has become part of the Heather/Wenchie lexicon. Of course, it must always be accompanied by the Hiel-Hitler-esque wave of one arm. And it is always followed by crippling laughter.
Not a chuckle. Not a guffaw. Not even a har-dee-har-har. I'm talking snorting, crying, stumbling-around, wheezing, face-contorting, seizure-inducing, speaking-in-tongues laughter. The kind of laughter where you have to hide your face because you know just how ugly it looks, especially with your mascara all under your eyes.
A couple weeks ago, we went to see "Fired Up!" together. On purpose. Because mocking others makes us feel closer to each other.
Admittedly, we were pretty wound up -- like toddlers on chocolate after bedtime -- so it's no surprise that we were finding humor with everything on the planet. But when she let fly with a random "What up, bitches!" in the bathroom, it was like setting off the atomic bomb of supreme wit.
I was laughing so hard (see above paragraph "Not a chuckle."), I had to lean against the wall and grab onto the sink because I was feeling lightheaded. I was actually losing vision. I think one of my retinas might have detached momentarily. I have, quite literally, never laughed harder in my entire life. It was like an out-of-body experience. Actually, it was kinda scary.
And this is why I am going to Heather's party alone.
Please keep Mr. Heather in your prayers.
Posted at 11:47 AM | Comments (3)April 02, 2009
Adult Contemporary
JB and I were at lunch, and the piped-in music was "Ev'ry Little Thing She Does Is Magic," so I had to chair-dance a little.
PW: Wow. I haven't heard The Police in a long time.
JB: I know. It's weird -- all the elevator music now is "oldies," like, from when I was in high school.
PW: It's totally depressing. They play Madonna in my grocery store! I'm like, "Since when does Madonna qualify as easy listening?! I remember when she was edgey! 'Like a Virgin' is crazy edgey!" What the hell happened?
JB: She kinda fizzled sometime in the mid-90s... the decade, not her age.
PW: BWAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Best. Qualifier. Ever.
Posted at 07:58 AM | Comments (1)April 01, 2009
April Showers Bring May Flowers
Look! It's the first bloom of spring!
April Fool's! It's just Stella in a stupid headband from Target's dollar section.
Daisy runs whenever she sees me take the headbands outta storage. Stella just sits down, puts her ears back and hangs her head in sorrowful resignation. She's my little Eyore. And when I'm done taking photos, she just gets right back up on her wooden cross. Such a little trooper.
I can't seem to find the bunny ears...
Posted at 07:49 AM | Comments (3)