:: American Angst ::

Monday, Mar. 21, 2005 Ignorance and a Sexy Voice... So George and I bought each other satellite radios (Sirius ROCKS!) for Valentine's day, cause we're oh-so-romantic and we've been lovin' it! I was listening to Maxim radio recently and learned that they were having a 'Sexiest Voice in America' contest. Well of COURSE I had to enter. I was positive that my voice, which just ooooozes sex, would stun the judges and cause them to crawl on their hands and knees to my door, positively begging me to be their spokesperson. Yeah, I know. SOOO got brought back to reality. Quite humbling, actually, when you spend an embarrassing 5 hours perfecting your recording - which was limited to 30 seconds - and not even making it past the first round. I am choosing to believe that it's because I couldn't figure out how to get the volume right on the recording, despite doing every technical thing I knew how to do. So because I'm so disappointed, and it's actually pretty funny (read: sorta pathetic) that I had the ego to think I was so incredibly sexy, I am offering it to you for your amusement, so you can see what NOT to do when you are nearing 36 and are tempted to enter a Sexy Voice contest. Please right-click on the link below and choose 'Save Target As' and save it to your system, so as not to kill my hosting company's servers. Thank ya peeps! Also, be sure to refrain from eating or drinking while listening to my ridiculous recording, as you will laugh so hard at my delusional attempt at sexiness that you will likely choke to death. Gracie Humiliates Herself with Maxim's Sexiest Voice Contest ********************************* While watching American Idol the other night, they showed a video made by the contestants (side note: WHY do they keep doing those group performances?? They are SO stupid...and WHY do they need this, anyway? The winner will be hired as a SOLO ACT.) and suddenly we see Vonzell dancing and doing her Star Smile! action. Have you seen her do this while performing? She'll be singing and into the song and then she notices the camera and suddenly pulls a multiple-personality on us and stops what she's doing, tips her shoulder up to her ear, tilts her head, and turns on the wattage with her huge smile for a few seconds, then goes back to the audience and her song. It's hilarious. So anyway, she comes on screen during this commercial/video thing and George starts cracking up and says "Didja see it?? She's wearin' CEREAL!" In response to my look of confusion, he rewinds the commercial (i heart tivo!) and I then see what he was talking about: her earrings. Here's his proclamation: "Dude! She has FRUIT LOOPS on!! lookiter eeeears!!" *giggles like happy boy* "Hheeeheeheeeeeeee froooooot yoooops!" ********************************* Remember when the media was an honorable establishment? When pride was taken in what they dispensed to the public? When they hired intelligent people to proofread their material? WHY did that pride not last? I am so very, very tired of receiving ads that are woefully misspelled, or seeing news programs or newspaper articles with glaring errors in print and on the screen. WHY? Especially in this day and age, with the internet which offers us instantaneous answers to any question we can fathom, WHY are so many in the media such idiots? Or, for that matter, why is anyone -- media or public in general -- still so unconcerned with appearing intelligent?? Ohhh, and don't give me that "Nyot EVERYONE can afford a 'PUTER" argument, either, because libraries give free access, honey. And while you may have to wait a few minutes for your turn at the terminal, it's STILL a helluva lot faster than the Dewey fuckin' Decimal system, paisan! Perhaps the reason I am so intolerant is this: in today's technological age, there is just NO excuse for ignorance. 10-15 years ago, if I wanted to read the pros and cons of the 'Creationism vs. Evolution' argument, I would have had to get dressed, find my shoes, find my keys (in the freezer, prolly, right next to my right shoe...friggin magic elves) get in my car, yell at stupid drivers on the way to the library, take 10 minutes to park because Mrs. Teacher-slash-mom-o-the-year and her kids are hauling 18 books each and walking down the CENTER of the freakin' driveway; get out, walk in, remind myself to use my 'inside voice' which never ever functions properly, wait in line at the reference desk -- impatiently 'cause, you know, I'm ME -- finally get my turn...ask for what I want...get reminded that I don't NEED her help, that I can use their huge bulky microfiche 'computer' to search for books on the subject, sit down, have her show me how to turn it on and use it, leaning over me while doing so, forcing me to make a mental note that her breath smells like milk...MILK...HOW, exactly, do you do THAT?? and end up missing most of what she just said...flip thru the falling-apart slotted folder that contains the flimsy film (am forced to waste even MORE time when I am unable to resist the urge to say 'flimsy film' 9 or 10 times fast...out loud...) pick the wrong one the first 3 times, finally get the right one and get side-tracked when so many of the other entries are so interesting (cream cup, creamery, cream of tartar, creationism, creation science, Cr�billon, Prosper Jolyot de, cr�che, Cr�cy, Credi, Lorenzo di...) and finally find 4 books, write down their numbers, put the flimsy film (flimsy film flimsy film flimsy film) back upside down and in the wrong slot, accidentally slam the microscope-slide-thingy back into place a little too hard, 'cause I'm not graceful at ALL, and march around the too-quiet, WAY too hot building in search of the numbers that match what I've written down with a dull golf pencil. Finally find it, but not before having to walk past a group of giggly teenagers who make solemn vows to each other that they will be SO much cooler than that mumbling lady when THEY are that OLD, and proceed to give the little bitches a lecture in my head to the tune of "Hey! I was JUST as pretty as YOU are when I was in high school missy! Quick newsflash for ya: doesn't last! Yeeewwww just WAIT till you're my age, snotface. Nature? Equals BITCH." Am now walking up and down the right row and see that 2 of the books are checked out, 1 is a poetry book (with stunningly genius poems that RHYME), and only 1 slightly resembles what it is I am hoping to find. So I take that to an empty table and flip through it, hoping to find what I need without having to go through the 'check-out' process where Ms. Booky McBully will insist on dispensing her stern and scolding look when she sees that I owe 3 years of nickles on that dumb quantum physics book that I borrowed to impress that guy at work and can no longer find, but - thankyajayzus - I find a few sentences that peripherally mention the argument, but nothing at all like what I was looking for, so I put the book away, walk BACK past the gigglers, walk BACK to the reference desk, get in line AGAIN, and threaten the old milk-smellin-snot with bodily harm if she doesn't help me find what I need. An hour later, I am back at my big ole table, 8 books spread around in various stages of open, I'm taking notes and forget the correct spelling of misanthrope, because the way I'm writing it looks silly, so I get up, make my way over to the stairs, go down to the basement level, find the dictionary, look up misanthrope...find the correct spelling, curse myself for having forgotten my pencil, Sing the spelling in my head (so as not to forget it, don'tchaknow) as I make my way back upstairs, m-i-ssss-aaaaayyy-eeennnn..., back to my table...crap...where was I? Where's my table? I thought I was...right...huh...spin around looking, wondering if the giggling bafoons are playing a joke on me cuz I'm old and decrepit and realize that they have better things to do because I spot my purse and notepad on a table, but the books are all gone...overzealous librarian has CLOSED all the books I was taking notes on and put them in her little cart for replacement. Sigh. Fuck the argument. Let's just assume I'm right...I don't have time to go through this again! I'll just spout off what others have told me and assume I know it all. Fukkit. But today? So much less stressful and anxiety-inducing. TODAY I grab a cup of decaf coffee (leave me alone, it's all i can handle...and really would YOU want to deal with me on caffeine??) Scratch my lower back (not my ass! Girls don't do THAT!) and plop down in front of my computer. Light a cigarette, open a browser and go to google.com (it's actually my start page...yeah...i'm that bad) type in 'Creationism vs. Evolution argument' and within .21 seconds, I am met with 40,600 results to leisurely peruse. As I'm taking notes, I can't quite recall the correct spelling of misanthrope...it's such a beautiful word (for years i've had an email address to reflect my love of this word) so I pull up www.dictionary.com and type in mysanthrope ('cause I, too, can be a moron!) and in .23 seconds I am presented with a list of all possible words I COULD be trying to spell. Click on the one I want, and tada...I am given its origin, spelling, designation, see it used in a sentence, and a pretty little icon informs me that I can click to hear it pronounced correctly. In less than a minute I have all this. SO WHY ARE SO MANY PEOPLE STILL MISSPELLING EVERYTHING?!?!?! Fuckin' pisses me off. ********************************* Someone Arrived Here Searching For: I put a banana in my fanny ********************************* Write me a Note here. Read my notes here. 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