Speaking of pie...

The following story was on People.com 2 weeks ago. TWO WEEKS AGO! I hadn't figured out the best time to fit it in around here, because you know, I can be an over-thinker, and I put some effort into the timing of my posts. This means that sometimes entertaining stories never get posted because the freshness of the story is it too far gone for it to even make any sense. Kind of like this rambling intro.

Getting to my point: I didn't even know about my favorite pie thief's new book until 5 days ago. Since then, I've smiled each time the thought re-occurred to me that I'd finally be able to fit this 2-week old news story into the lineup around here.

What I'm saying is this: comedic timing, my friends, is everything...


Nine years after Eugene-Levy-caught-them-in-the-dirty-deed, Jason Biggs will finally make an honest pie out of her.



Just kidding, I'm only having some fun with the headlines again. Click HERE if you care about seeing his fiance's actual face.

Meatloaf would do anything for money (but he won't do that). Oh wait, yes he will.

Disclaimer Caveat: Even though it was released in 1977, Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light is a classic for the ages. You cannot argue this point with me and win.

More than 30 years after it's release, Paradise by the Dashboard Light is still being played on every college campus in the country. It was certainly played at every party or bar I went to in college, and each time it came on, my friends and I were suddenly in our own musical. Everything-- beer pong, keg stands, a table full of people playing the card game affectionately known as A-hole, the guitar-playing dudes on the front steps--would stop, and we would all wholeheartedly sing along*. Even the burly, stoic guys who never sang joined in loudly; which makes sense if you go by the increased beer consumption=increased volume of sound equation. Afterwards, with no mention of the buzzed chorus we were all apparently members of, regular party activity would ramp-up again. Me? I was probably getting back to kicking ass at speed quarters.

Now that you understand the degree to which this particular song is ingrained in my college experience, you can understand why I received no less than 12 e-mails over the weekend from some of those friends in response to and concurrence with my horror at seeing this commercial:


Double-click on either 'play' arrow if you have trouble with the video

Part of my job is coming up with marketing ideas and advertising pitches, so I realize that I analyze commercials (and ok, lots of things) more than the average bear. I will start you off with these points to ponder:

1) They cast 80's pop singer Tiffany as the mom who can stock a garage refrigerator (with french bread?!) and then release a dove from her bare hands that she magically pulled out of thin air (after a prayer?!). The dove flies out of view never to be seen again, which is probably supposed to represent how quickly time passes, or something equally depressing. All I know is when I first saw that part of the commercial, I actually thought to myself, "This right here? THIS is what it sounds like when doves cry."

2) In a glorious display of a textbook mood swing, we find out that if Meatloaf gets "crazed", he'll angrily throw a fireball into a trash can. Then, he'll tell you he's going to buy you something.

3) The script calls for the teenager to grab nothing out of thin air TWICE and eat it. This thin-air thing must come from his mom's DNA. Maybe originally he was supposed to eat flying doves but they thought it would distract from the message, which ends up coming through regardless. The message is that Meatloaf needs cash and will seemingly do anything to get it.

4) Unless you're selling dynamite, having the featured product EXPLODE at the end of the commercial might not be the best thing to leave in the mind of the potential customer.

5) For me, the most disturbing part of this commercial is the song choice. If you don't already know or never thought about it before, Paradise by the Dashboard Light (like all Jim Steinman songs) is a massive and over-the-top saga of teenage sex in a car-turned-miserable marriage that goes like this (and because Tiffany's flying dove reminded me that time is fleeting, I opted to edit down the mass of information found on Wikipedia instead of typing up my own run-down):

Part one, Paradise Reminiscing their days as a high school couple, making out in the front seat of a car. "And now our bodies are oh so close and tight/It never felt so good it never felt so right..." As the song progresses it's clear that the boy has more on his mind. "Baby don't you hear my heart/You've got it drowning out the radio/I've been waiting so long for you to come along and have some fun/And I gotta let you know, no you're never gonna regret it/So open up your eyes I've got a big surprise, it'll feel all right/ I wanna make your motor run". 

Part two, Let Me Sleep On It The girl refuses to go any further unless the boy promises that he will love her, marry her, and stay faithful. The boy is conflicted and says he'll tell her in the morning, which doesn't get him very far. "I couldn't take it any longer/ Lord, I was crazed / When the feeling came upon me like a tidal wave / Started swearing to my God/ And on my mother's grave/ That I would love you till the end of time / I swore I would love you till the end of time"

Part three, Praying For The End Of Time Things snap back to the present time. They are sticking to their vows, despite being miserable about it. "So now I'm praying for the end of time / To hurry up and arrive / 'cause if I got to spend another minute with you I don't think that I can really survive/ I'll never break my promise / Or forget my vow / But God only knows what I can do right now/ I'm praying for the end of time / It's all that I can do! / Praying for the end of time / So I can end my time with you!"

Now I ask you...will the debased version of this song sell phones to parents of teenagers? The same teenagers who after having borrowed the car, may just ignore that ringing phone as they participate in their own paradise by the dashboard "Go-Phone" light?

...

*I have the exact same kind of flashbacks when I hear Hootie & the Blowfish's Hold My Hand or Only Wanna Be With You. I realize to some of you that admission might blow my credibility on the topic of 'classics', but those WERE The Hootie Years, so I have no shame about that. Besides, I defy you to find a song with a sweetly-appropriate lyrical summation of college relationships that tops, "Maybe we can't change the world but I'm gonna love you the best that, the best that I can."

Well, besides this obvious choice!

Avoidance and Denial; one of those ain't just a river in Egypt

Note to Readers: I don't know what's gotten into me but tonight I'm posting one of each of the 2 things I usually avoid writing about, and I'm posting them together even though it might seem in-bad-taste (and if you're surprised to find a post on my blog that is less than the highest of decorum, let me welcome you, new readers, because everyone else already knows where the bar is set around here!).
.......

There are 2 things on this blog that I usually avoid like the plague: online quizzes and famous-people-memorial-posts, and the reasons for avoidance are actually the same. If everyone has already written about it, reported on it, or talked about it, will readers still be interested in more of the same from another blog? I don't have a definitive answer to that because there are too many variables, but I'm a classic over-thinker, so the path my brain takes is this: If you have a couple of hours free, maybe you're looking to read up on all kinds of varying topics so that there will be something to talk to your ex-boyfriend about later over a dinner of re-heated yet lukewarm lasagna that really wasn't that tasty even when it was hot & fresh (the ex-boyfriend, not the lasagna); or on the flip side, if you have a full presentation for a client meeting due in 20 minutes and you still have at least 45 minutes of work to get done, you're definitely going to want to read up on the same topic repeatedly in an effort to avoid the panic that is about to blow up in your face like an atomic bomb. Or maybe that's just me.

Initially part of the allure of posting the results of a quiz I picked up from my sister's blog (who got it from Kat's blog) was to avoid writing a post on Heath Ledger's untimely passing, but I don't think that went very well since I just spent 40 minutes editing a very long post I wrote about him yesterday, so here is what remains for public consumption: My friend Shoni & I watched Heath's breakout film, Ten Things I Hate About You, a teen angst-y adaptation of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew, countless times after she got it on DVD in '99; and though he purposely avoided (there it is again, the topic of the day!) doing any other movies in that specific genre afterwards, that initial role was all it took for us to sit up and take notice of him. The last film I saw him in was his Academy Award nominated role in Brokeback Mountain, a film so beautifully shot while simultaneously having the most brilliantly acted and utterly depressing storyline that it put me in a funk for weeks. While I didn't know him personally, I felt (and still feel) really disturbed when I heard the news, so R.I.P. Heath Ledger.
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...And now for something completely different. Here are the long-awaited, possibly too-hyped-up results from the online quiz, "What Donut Are You?". Honestly, I think this quiz should have just been called, "The WHO, ME? Quiz by Captain Obvious" because it is eerily accurate:


Nah, you think?!

You can take it yourself HERE, if for no other reason than you'll have something to talk about when you & your ex-boyfriend get together for dinner.

Butterfly hover over my mother, tell her that I... oh forget it Butterfly, I'll tell her myself!

"Hey Jerkfaces, it's my birthday!" (My mom would never actually say that because she's a lady.)

Was this before or after Uncle Chuck flushed your half of the last stick of gum down the toilet so he wouldn't have to share?

See that grace? Those beautiful lines? I inherited none of that.

When I was in 2nd grade we constructed these cards for Mother's Day based on a sample that our teacher brought in, and we all had to make a version of the same card, which featured a butterfly and a flower. Because I have never been one to go along with the crowd, it infuriated me that my mom would have to get the exact artwork that another mom was going to get. BECAUSE MY MOM IS BETTER THAN YOUR MOM AND YOU'LL NEVER CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE, SORRY.

1992. Dad is most likely telling you how gorgeous you are, because that's what you are, and that's what he does!

The worst part was the little poem that we had to copy from the chalkboard onto the card. It was so awful that to this day I still remember it: "Butterfly hover over my mother, tell her that I dearly love her." I know, it's gag-inducing. So, I started on the dumb card, while gnashing my teeth and doing a lot of loud sighing and generally making it known that I was not happy. I did my best though, because we were going to be graded on how well we matched the sample. (Do you realize how unbelievable my 2nd grade teacher was? Who GRADES a 7-year-old on how accurately they copy something made by the only adult in the room?)

1977-ish.

I was always the class jokester but also had/have the additional joy of being an over-thinker (though I prefer the term "deep", as in, "You are SO deep and introspective!" and not so much as in, "You are deeply disturbed and clearly have too much time on your hands"), even back then.

1981. The Alamo. Remember? (Get it?)

So, while everyone else was having a good time coloring and cutting up construction paper, making the same card like they were little robots, my brain was looping these thoughts over and over: Butterflies can't even talk! If I'm leaving it up to a non-talking butterfly to TELL my mom that she's loved, it does not reflect well on me as a daughter. Whose idea was this? Where is that red marker? If the poem mentioned a talking parrot, that would make so much more sense. Or a woodpecker. At least they can tap out a message with their beaks. Does mom know morse code? Just about anything would be better than a non-verbal butterfly. Where is that yellow marker? Whose idea was this?

1983. h Xavier Roberts (with his arm around me!) Mom, and Missy with the cool rainbow shirt), Xavier is the inventor of Cabbage Patch Kids. Back then they were called "Little People" and you could only "adopt" them at a place in TN called Babyland General, which was made to look like an entire birthing unit. The little nurse in his hand is mine. Her name was Adele Phyllis (I didn't pick the name, just the doll!) and one of her little ass cheeks got signed that day by Mr. Roberts himself. Just look at him, he's as cute Adele!

When I gave my mom the card and told her how annoyed I was by the idea of an insect passing along MY affection for her, and that all the moms would be reading the same meaningless poem and would have the same kind of flower on their cards; she took in what I was saying and then genuinely told me how much she loved everything about the card, even that poem. Suddenly I didn't really care that there were 25 other moms getting the same card. My mom, THE BEST MOM, loved it!

1989. The Hallmark Maven, aka Boss Lady. She will crack the whip, and not in a good way.

1989. The Maven's assistant working hard at the after school job. I just finished putting together that entire display with the one token dude we had working there. Lucky for me he was hot and a gentleman at that, so he did all the heavy lifting; because honey, trust me when I tell you that I spent too much time on my hair that day to work up a sweat installing ornaments in freaking July.

I knew it wasn't because she believed that there would soon be a butterfly with a voice box and a heartfelt message to share while flapping it's pretty little wings, but it was because I made it especially for her, and did my best.

1991. Dad, Lowell Davis, his rooster & Mom

That is just one of the eleventy-thousand reasons why I love my mom, THE BEST MOM, whose birthday is today.

Fanilows! This was the night we saw Barry Manilow for free. Also known as the night I told JJ that Barry was, ahem, playing for the other team. While I was destroying all of her fantasies, I went ahead and broke the news about Santa Claus not being real. Then we had lots of drinks at Buck Bradley's, the finest (and longest) bar east of the Mississippi!

I'm not balancing a boot on my head, though it looks like I am! On your & Missy's 1997 trip to visit me in New York. "Hey Mom! You said you'd buy me some shoes for my birthday! These are the ones I really want!"

"Those? But they're so ugly! I'm going to need something besides this Balthazar lemonade to drink if you expect me to fork over that much cash for shoes that are so offensive to my eyesight."

Three tequila shots later... (just kidding!) Look at those new shoes! Thanks for buying those even though they were a lot of money and you thought they were truly and horribly disgusting. They actually lasted for years and I wore them all over NYC like I owned the joint!

1997. All that ugly-shoe shopping is stressful! Mom getting a snack (most likely rugelach) at the famous Russ and Daughters Deli in NYC.

Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you!

Missy, Mom, & Me at one of the million shows we've seen here in Chicago and (mostly) in NYC. We're total show whores (though my mom would never put it that way, because, like I said, she's a lady!).


No butterflies were harmed in the writing of this post.

Imogen Heap aka Frou Frou: Odd stage names but sound advice through beautiful lyric, notes, voice and song

This could be my grief talking (anger stage, is that you?), but I'd like to find the douchebag with the ringing cell phone (at 1:26) and punch them in the face.

With. Their. Ringing. Phone.


Imogen Heap/Frou Frou's "Let Go"

It could also stand for "Dunderhead"

Here is a highlight from a recent conversation with a friend who is back on the social scene after the conclusion of a very-long-term relationship. Her kids were in the next room so we were censoring our normally saucy conversation to a certain degree.

Friend: I haven't heard from him in 3 weeks.

Me: Think he's trying to blow you off?

Friend: It sure feels like it. I hope he realizes that because he is 38 years old, I kind of thought he was an adult. I've been the one to keep things casual between us, and we were friends for a long time before this. If he's not into it anymore, he should just tell me.

Me: Agreed.

Friend: I'm just confused about it. ESPECIALLY because he's the one who, last month, brought up the"D"-word!

Me: The "D"-word? {Mentally scanning through all the "D"-words in my brain, but not coming up with anything that would, in context, make any sense} What's the "D"-word?

Friend: {Trying to whisper what the mystery word is, incomprehensible due to her muffled snickering}

Me: Hmmm, this is completely throwing me. Let me think a second. {In my head I've gotten all the way to dysphoria, which is the last of the "D"-words that I can come up with, and I don't know why it would be confusing if he brought up "dysphoric" and now she doesn't know why he's been M.I.A. That can't be what the "D" stands for.}

Friend: {Loudly giggling, still unable to get the word out}

Me: I mean, if you said that he brought up the "F"-word, or the "C"-word, I would know exactly what you're talking about. You're going to have to help me out here.

Friend: {Howling with laughter} "DATING", Julie! The "D"-word he brought up was "dating"!

Me: Oh. Well, then I can see why you're so confused.