Reason #37 that I will never be on reality TV

Let's just say up front that I am already not a fan of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. I think their approach is well-intended but way over the top. I think demolishing a functional house and throwing up a new one is stupid and wasteful (why not use that money to either remodel/fix up the place or find a new house more suited to the family's needs?). It bothers me that the makeover recipients often don't have the means and support to handle the downside of the changes to their lives, like higher property taxes due to their ballooning new digs, or unwanted aspects of celebrity status.

And finally, unlike seemingly most women in America, I do not swoon at the sight of Ty Pennington.

My sister had the opportunity to attend one of the reveals, and from all indications, much of the crowd was made up of semi-hysterical women hoping to catch a glimpse of Ty. Yeah, it was cool to see the family get their new house and yell "Move that bus!" and all, but Ty was wayyyy more scream-worthy.

Of course, nerd that I am, I'd be standing there assessing the construction details while screaming women are stampeding around me to see if they can get closer to Ty. But I digress.

Clearly, I don't think like a TV producer; such creatures are not known for practicality or unglamorous solutions. But after reading this article, there is no way on God's green earth I'll ever convert to EM:HE fandom. No way, no how.

I'm not sure which is more disturbing: the show being like a revivalist cult for its employees and devotees, or the revelation that Habitat for Humanity could build 24 new houses for needy people with the outlay required for one of these obscenely excessive makeovers.

The info on how they stage the show was fascinating in the context of all the reality TV out there - moments that look spontaneous are actually rehearsed and interviews with the subjects are the results of multiple takes. It's a little unsettling to get a glimpse of the man behind the curtain, and in some ways this type of information shatters certain illusions.

On the other hand, it helps to explain how these shows work, because certainly you wonder why everyone seems to be in sync and outside people never seem to interfere with the proceedings. How come votes on Survivor usually only split two ways instead of being all over the map? How come you never see people (ticket agents, taxi drivers, etc.) encountered by The Amazing Race contestants acting all star-struck or being shocked by their first encounter with each team and its camera-crew entourage? How come tasks on The Apprentice never get derailed by star-seeking bystanders, and everyone goes straight to their seemingly-random seats in the Boardroom instead of bumbling around like normal people?

I guess now I know that if I ever get on House Hunters, my true remarks will end up rescripted.

Real statement: "Why the hell would you ever put wall-to-wall over these nice floors?"
TV statement: "Well, it's a nice carpet, but it would have to go!"

Real statement: "Are these people f---ing colorblind? Why would you ever paint your living room magenta?"
TV statement: "Whoa, now that's a different color. It's not really me, though."

Real statement: "Mirrored closet doors. Again. Does EVERY damn house on this show have mirrored closet doors? Can we pleeeease go see a house without them?"
TV statement: "This bedroom is a nice size. Wow, those mirrors really brighten things up in here!"

Real statement: "Wow, this tacky 1970s wallpaper is awesome. Awesome! Can we keep it?"
TV statement: "Hey, look at that! Ha ha. Interesting. But we'll need to strip that and repaint."

Real statement: "Check out this closet! It's bigger than all the closets in my current house combined!"
TV statement: "It's a very nice closet, but I actually was looking for something a little bigger. And the master bathroom only has one sink."

Eyes in the moon of blindness

So we are down to the two Davids on American Idol. I am betting on Archuleta, though I could go either way. Cook is good, and probably more original, and probably more talented, but the raspiness makes me want to clear my throat, or pop a lozenge. Ow. Also, it seems like the producers and judges have too much power in the finale - they can assign one person a great song and the other person a sucky song, and effectively slant the competition. And trotting out Ruuuuben! at the end to celebrate me home was just shoving our noses in Velveeta. Really. Gagh!

Meanwhile, I am just hitting the wall on exercise. I need to get busy and sign up for a 5K and force myself to go to bed earlier, and get up earlier so I can get in a run or strength DVD before the kids get up. Anytime after that just isn't feasible.

It's tough to go to bed when Facebook is so fascinating and absorbing, though. All these people from my present, my past, and my really long-ago past coming together in my Friends column. All kinds of catching up and seeing where people are now. It's definitely helped a lot on the "neglecting my blog" front.

Even before I joined Facebook, I've been rehashing my past a lot, particularly my teenage years. Maybe it's because I'm just a few years from my 20th reunion, or that I'm having a relapse of my youthful angst, or that I still have issues from that time that need resolving. Getting a glimpse of these people I spent time with 20 (or more) years ago stirs this pot even more. With my schoolmates in general, I wonder whether (if we had the opportunity to get together) the people we are now would give each other more of a chance than we did way back when. I like to think we've all become better people; certainly I've talked to people at reunions who I thought would never give me the time of day in high school.

As I've probably mentioned, I was a total target in middle school, and spent most of high school trying to reach the point of being both accepted and left alone. I didn't identify with any particular defined group, even the ones that are supposed to attract the smart misfit kids. I never took journalism (big regret) so I didn't work on the school paper. I didn't fit in with the drama club or the AV kids, although my inability to act, sing, dance, wear black, listen to Joy Division, or figure out how to work those big TV-VCR things was probably a factor. The pre-Ivy League group was too elite.

So I flew under the radar, tried to blend in, and really didn't know a lot of people beyond my small core of friends. And now I'm struggling with a lot of regret about that, and wanting to somehow rectify the situation, or at least put it to rest. I'm sure there were people in high school who were nice to me, who I regarded with suspicion, because at one point people would make fun of me by being publicly nice to me so other people would laugh at this. I hope I didn't blow them off. Others I simply didn't interact with - we didn't have classes or activities together. There were many tiny pockets of people who weren't part of the identifiable cliques. Though invisible to me at the time, these pockets have become apparent from running into these people here and there as a young adult, having a great conversation, and thinking, "Hey, this person seems really cool -I wish I had known him/her back then."

I also think a lot about Tom Ryan. He was a guy I met in 4th grade, even had a little crush on that year. He was in the elementary school gifted program with me, wore striped polo shirts and horn-rim glasses, was sweet but quiet. In high school, he emerged into a talented writer and editor on the school paper, with a thoughtful, wise presence, but still quiet in demeanor. He blended both with the preppy popular genius kids and the alternative AV people. He was always kind to me, if not overly friendly. I would never have dared to call him my friend, but his refusal to treat me like everyone else did was meaningful nonetheless.

Tom died suddenly of meningitis our freshman year in college, right before Thanksgiving. I couldn't get home in time for his memorial service, and nobody I knew well was there, but my memories combined with those of others who wrote tributes to him made me realize what a remarkable person he was. I'm sure he was no saint, but there was something very powerful about him nonetheless. And though other classmates of ours have died since, he is the one who stays with me, and who makes me wonder the most.

As I've passed into adulthood, career, marriage, parenthood, at each step I've wondered what Tom would have done with his life. What he would say about the events shaking our world (I am sure he would have continued to write), what positive change might have occurred because of his existence, whether he would have his own family. I sometimes want to write a letter to his parents, telling them he is still remembered, even by those who were probably a miniscule dot on his radar. And tell them that he was one of the few people I have known in my life who I believed would really make a difference. And that it's wretchedly unfair that he was taken from us much too soon. Though I didn't know him well, dare I say I miss him as he was when he left us at 18, and I miss what he could have been.

I met Tom's father once, when a memorial tree was planted at the town youth center Tom helped to found. It was probably 4 or 5 years after he died. I introduced myself and gave him my condolences and he looked at me and said "He talked about you. I'm glad to finally meet you." I still think about that flash of acknowledgment, and it still makes me cry.

I have yet to work up the guts to write the letter, but every time I'm back home and drive past that building, I look for Tom's tree.

Procrastination

So Slate has published an entire edition about my all-time favorite pastime. How awesome is that? I haven't gotten around to reading all of the articles yet, for obvious reasons.

In other news, Melrose has been invited to a Hannah Montana theme party. Not Tinkerbell. Not Ariel. Not Barbie as the Island Princess or in Fairytopia or wherever else Barbie's creators choose to put her next (who knew that Barbie was a talented actress? And what does Ken think about all this?). Not Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella or any Disney princess I've missed.

Nope, it's Hannah Montana, favorite show/concert/marketing phenomenon for grade-school tweener girls.

The birthday girl and her guests are 4.

I'm not entirely sure I approve of this, but I'm stuck chaperoning anyway. Also, we do not have suitable clothing, and I'm so not buying any. I seem to belong to the rare and shrinking club that thinks kids should be dressed like kids, not like mini-teenagers.

Speaking of disturbing media for children, has anyone checked out BoohBah? You cannot persuade me that those creators were not on drugs. The entire show is like some bizarre and scary hallucinatory trip. I thought the Teletubbies were creepy, but BoohBah is just a whole new level of things that give me nightmares. And my kids love it. Magoo refers to it as the Boom-Bahs. I turned it on one day just to check it out, and of course they were addicted after just one episode.

I'm still holding the line against Barney, however. I'm not even giving him the benefit of a link.

We've gotta move these color TVs

I stopped for gas on my way home tonight, and was delighted by what I found when I got out of the car:

The TVs over the pumps were broken!

It was SO nice to stand there, enjoying a mild, wet night, listening to gas gurgling into my car and traffic whooshing by. No loudspeakers blaring music or ads. No glaring, gabbling TV screen showing disjointed little sound bites.

It really scares me that gas corporations (yes, you, Sunoco) now think people need to be entertained (and advertised to) for the few minutes it takes to fill up your car. Is it really going to kill a customer to stand still and not do anything but watch the pump run for a couple of minutes? Do they feel bad that they don't want us to talk on our cell phones at the pump, even though there's no proof of anyone blowing themselves up this way, so they give us TV instead? Maybe they're just trying to distract us from rising gas prices? Or is it that important to fill up every spare moment in life with advertising?

The overhead music I don't always mind, because it sometimes plays random 80s songs I love, but these TVs over the pumps are just offensive. The volume is always too loud, and there's always some frenetic Ryan Seacrest clone jumping around and/or yelling. You have to turn away not to look at it, but you're still assaulted by the racket it makes. I try to go to quieter stations without these things, but tonight I spaced on getting gas until this station was the only one left on my way. But I lucked out. The TVs were sitting there with jumbled frozen screens that resembled those old emergency-broadcast test patterns.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a TV hater. I own multiple idiot boxes, and I even have cable. I just don't see any need for customers to be subjected to blaring TVs in public places, except maybe in a sports bar, where watching a game is part of the overall reason for being there. Or if something major is going on (on the 9/11 level, not the O.J. White Bronco Chase level). Otherwise, why do we need more noise, ads and glare in our lives? Do we all truly need to watch Dr. Phil while waiting for an oil change? Turn. It. Off.

Speaking of that whole thing with talking on your cell phone while pumping, did you know that Wawa has cell phone Big Brothers? A couple of years ago, as I was finishing a cell phone conversation while getting gas at one of those vast canopied gas-pump clusters, the music stopped and this guy got on the PA system: "Ma'am at Pump Four? Attention, ma'am at Pump Four? Could you turn off your cell phone please?" Pretty much everyone pumping gas stopped and swiveled to check out which idiot's being busted at Pump Four, including me. Oh. I'm at Pump Four. CLICK.

Things that make you go hmmmm: Holiday Edition

There are many things in life that I just don't get:

1. Why anyone would stand in line outside a (fill-in-the-big-box-store) in the freezing cold at 4:15AM on Black Friday so they could spend 20 minutes shopping amidst hordes of other bargain-hunters, then stand in line for over 2 hours to check out, all to save a few bucks on holiday gifts. Nothing against Kohl's, but is there truly anything there worth getting up at 3AM to buy? Why not just buy less stuff, or spend less money, get some sleep, and shop at a sane time? Same expenditure, much more sanity.

2. Why anyone would run out the day after Thanksgiving to buy a cut Christmas tree from one of the multitude of roadside stands that's popped up in many a parking lot in the past week. First of all, the tree sellers aren't going anywhere for at least another month. Secondly, They. Never. Run. Out. Of. Trees. Believe me. There will be just as many trees there on Christmas Eve as there are right now. Thirdly, what's the big rush? You have a whole month to go! You're not going to save any money or win any awards for being the first to put up your tree! Do you just like dry crumbly trees and a carpet of needles on your floor for Santa to slip on Christmas morning?

3. Parents going through insane rituals of aggravation, sleep deprivation, and even hand-to-hand combat to get their kids some must-have toy or other item for the holidays. I personally will not EVER be one of those people camping out in line overnight, ready to rush a big-box store for some new video gaming system or the latest Whatever-Me Elmo. My parents did not do these things (not even for Cabbage Patch Kids!), and yet I still felt loved and cherished. It would be one thing if the item was lifesaving sustenance or medicine for my child. But it's not. My children's lives will not be irreparably ruined because their friends got Nintendo the first day it came out and they didn't get it until (horrors!) a few weeks or a month later. I am not giving up sleep to shop as a competitive sport and give my kids instant gratification. Also, see #1 above.

4. Why our modern-day lives have gotten so hectic and overwhelming that people who can afford it feel they need one of these. And why, despite my sad and regretful head-shaking over how hectic and overwhelming life has become, I'm still completely and insanely jealous of those who can afford it.

5. How my dog can possibly be comfortable sleeping like this (see above). Yes, his head is on his butt. He conks out in this pose quite often. He also can fall asleep with his front half on someone's lap and his back legs standing on the floor. Apparently he is a German shorthaired pointing contortionist.

6. Why seemingly every '80s compilation out there has either the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams Are Made of This" or Blondie's "Call Me" on it? Those of us who love the '80s enough to buy compilations are sick of these two songs. They are overplayed as it is.

7. Why anyone likes that creepy Frank Sinatra-David Bowie "Do You Hear What I Hear" duet. Or that lame-ass song about the Christmas shoes. I'll take the entire Chipmunks Christmas album over either of those songs, any day.

8. Will Ferrell. He's just not funny to me. Ever. I try and I try to appreciate the guy, and every movie, every skit, seems to start out with some promise of hopefully being funny and ends up just being (IMHO) stupid and annoying. I wonder whether the current generation of teens and young adults finds him and the current SNL crop as funny as we did back in the days of oh, Dana Carvey and Mike Myers and Kevin Nealon. Of course, they're probably all too busy with MySpace, YouTube, and their iPods to pay attention to network TV comedy, unless it involves Justin Timberlake singing about a dick in a box. Sigh....

9. Rabid drunken sports fans. This story just made me ill. I don't know who I'm more ashamed of, the males or the females.

So call me The Grinch. I can live with that.

It's all just a little bit of history repeating

How many Survivor premieres must go by before the contestants realize that any initial direction they might receive from the producers as to what attire they should wear on Day 1 is a TRICK? And that anyone with half a brain cell should ignore said direction and wear as many practical and necessary items as possible, because within 3 minutes of Jeff's welcome spiel, they will be promptly relieved of all possessions save the clothing on their backs?

Given this history, why would anyone think it's a good idea to show up on Day 1 of filming in a sequined top, or a dress with no bra? Did you really think Jeff was going to let you unpack your wheelybag, leash your pups, and change into your camp clothes after the cameras started to roll? Have you ever seen an event take place on Survivor that warrants anything dressier than athleticwear? You don't have soap, deodorant, or razors--why do you need sequins?