Missing Out on Mars and Mohawks

Fellow Americans, I have a bone to pick with you, and it has to do with outer space. WHY did no one tell me we were landing a rover on Mars Monday night?

Was the 7th interview about Missy Franklin's contact with the Biebs so important that NBC couldn't be bothered to tell us we were PARACHUTING a vehicle-sized science-mobile onto a foreign planet and the whole thing was going to be televised? I mean, anyone who knows me even remotely well would know that I never oppose talking about the Biebs. But really? This is history, here guys.

Shame on you, Bob Costas. I don't know why, but I blame you. Or Ryan Seacrest. He was too busy telling us that everyone in the world uses Facebook a lot and still uses it a lot during the Olympics, like it was some testament to the human ability to use technology, to be bothered by something that actually was a testament to the human ability to use technology. Sigh.

So yesterday morning whilst making my rounds on the Twittersphere and CNN, I learned that we (I say "we" like a collective "we," because the Olympics are happening and we're all part of the same team if we live in the same country, right?) not only successfully landed a hunk of high-tech machinery on Mars, but that one of the people responsible is...awesome.

Introducing: Mohawk Guy (y'know, unless you've read the news in the last 24 hours. If so, please just humor me.)

See, baby boomers? 20-something handsome hipsters CAN be productive members of society. You thought it couldn't be done. You thought stars emblazoned in the side of someone's head were reserved for hoodlums and Dennis Rodman. But you were wrong, because this young man has changed all that. (I call him a young man because I feel like that's what people with no confidence in our generation would call him.)

With the help of a single dollop of hair gel and an eccentric barber, Bobak Ferdowski is making science cool, one mohawk at a time.

Sure, he probably got made fun of in elementary school/middle school for liking science, but WHERE ARE YOU NOW, bullies? Not on TV slash all over Twitter slash starring in your own meme-cycle, that's for sure. These are the kinds of accolades you want in 2012. We can't all be Hey Girl or Gersberms, but he has reached that pinnacle.

You go, mohawk guy. You go.

Let it be known that this is one of my favorite things about pop culture in America: we are exploring Mars with a sophisticated, cutting-edge machine, and we managed to pull an Internet sensation out of it.

Never mind the fact that some older less-mohawky guys likely did just as much work on this project. They don't have cool hair or a tumblr page or rugged good looks, so PUH. Give us Bobak.

After they took away Pluto AND the space shuttle program, this is the least NASA could have done for us. It's nice to know there is still something for us to hope in.

Maybe mohawk guy will inspire a whole new generation of astronauts and/or aerospace scientists and they will reinstate the shuttle program AND bring back Pluto because they remember a time when Pluto was a planet.

One can only dream.

Godspeed, Mohawk Guy. May you discover awesome things and, when the time comes, choose cooler people than Lance Bass to try to launch into space.

Where were you when we landed Curiosity on Mars? I was asleep. No thanks to Seacrest.

The Rise and Fall of Avril Lavigne

Avril Lavigne.

She's irrefutably well-known in pop culture, yet somehow remains simultaneously off-the-radar. Though the term "one-hit-wonder" would seem a misnomer for this Canadian songstress due to her roster of chart-toppers, it also seems eerily accurate in light of her ability to reemerge approximately every three years, flooding the Top 40 airwaves with one tune only to immediately crumble back into obscurity until her next album launch. And no matter what, pop music seems to open its doors to welcome her back in every single time, if for only a moment.

Her atypical journey is one worth sharing, and luckily I am here to tell it (because I'm fairly certain no one else is).

ERA I: Complicated.

I'll admit it, I contemplated wearing a tie with a t-shirt more than once. I went to her concert. I wore a black belt with grommets in it. I weighed in on the controversy about whether or not Avril could call herself a "punk." (That was when being "punk" was a thing.) Oh, you didn't hear about that controversy? Probably because you weren't scene. Or in 9th grade at the time. Not my best moments. But I digress.

What I thought she did was bring punk-style and rock into the mainstream and represent the female singers of the world who didn't want to be Britney Spears (a.k.a. me in 9th grade). What she actually did was write a super catchy pop song and popularize heavy eyeliner and allow girls to say the word "dude."

Either way, Avril was on top. She wore Vans. She played guitar (moderately). She said "damn." Yep, Avril was the would-be rebel that somehow still managed to brush elbows with Carson on TRL.

ERA II: Sophomore Plateau

After the Complicated era, Avril put out a sophomore album entitled "Under My Skin," which to most people was probably considered a relative bust. It got some moderate airplay, but didn't live up to her debut album. But not to me.

My best friend and I totally rocked that album back and forth to the lake that summer, and I may or may not have played "My Happy Ending" (anyone?) at a talent competition which I think was put on by the Boys & Girls' club, and therefore let's just say I was the only one playing pop music. But some girls told me I sounded just like Avril, so take that for what you will.

ERA III: Girlfriend

This was the peak of my disappointment in ol' Avril. Not only had she gone from the thoughtful (albeit overdramatic) lyrics on her second album to "hey hey you you I don't like your girlfriend...think you need a new one," but in my opinion she had abandoned her edgy guitar-playing persona completely in a last-ditch effort to stay relevant in 2007.

Spoiler alert: it worked.

Sure, "Girlfriend" still had a bit of the devil-may-care attitude Avril had become known for, but with more of a Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls type of way rather than Lindsay Lohan in Freaky Friday kind of way.

Around this time, Avril went blonder-than-blonde and started wearing a lot more pink.

It should also be noted that at some point she married and divorced the lead singer of Sum 41, which I can only assume was an attempt to get back to her roots gone terribly wrong. After all, he too was a Canadian pop-punk one-hit-wonder. The realization that she was no longer the edgy tie-wearing mall crasher she used to be probably made him walk. That had to be it, right?

She did, however, release "Keep Holding On," during this era, which could actually be considered a legitimate song. So she had that going for her.

ERA IV: What the Hell/Self Promotion

I think at this point, knowing she had been out-cooled by Hayley Williams in every way and without any hope of going back, Avril decided to go big or go home in the pop music market.

Luckily, so had I, and "What the Hell" rekindled my affinity for Avril Lavigne. Not to the same extent of course--I didn't buy her album or anything, but I also didn't change the station when when this song came on the radio.

She also utilized her resurgence in pop culture to manufacture a fragrance as well as a clothing line, which she promoted every three seconds in the music video for "What The Hell." Smart, Avril. Cross-promotion. I see what you did there.

ERA V: Slow news day.

This brings us to 2012 in which Avril has done nothing of note, EXCEPT being photographed by the paparazzi in this un-newsworthy abomination of a photo which inspired this entire blog post.

Source

Oh Avril. You've come too far to have your beach escapades be the only thing you have going for you in the world of pop culture news.

But good for you for fighting to keep the whole trucker-hat thing alive. There aren't enough people on that effort.

Source

Who's your favorite one-hit-wonder?

When Octomoms Make Commercials

Once upon a time, I was minding my own business, watching Justin Bieber in concert on Fuse (no one's shocked), when a commercial the likes of which have never been seen graced my Vizio screen. It begins with someone we are all well acquainted with, staring straight into the camera and tentatively stating "I think it's on," while pretending to adjust it.

Do you want to know who this person is?

In 800 million years you will never guess. Unless you have seen the title of this post. Then you might guess.

Are you ready for this?

It's OCTOMOM. The one and only Nadya Suleman. In a commercial.

Just wait. It gets better.

Octomom proceeds to introduce herself ("you may know me as Octomom," she quips...no one knows you as anything else, Octo.) and sympathize with us that she knows how difficult it can be to take care of a lot of kids, especially when unexpected things happen that you have to pay for. (SIGH. SO TRUE, OCTOMOM, SO TRUE.)

But guys, don't even worry for a second. Why? Are you sitting down?

Because now there is OCTOLOAN.COM.

Yep. That is a real live thing. Not only does Octomom endorse a loan company, but it is named after her.

To prove it, I will post the commercial below, which, by the way, has a losing record of 127 dislikes and 6 likes on YouTube, and also has comments disabled. Again, no one's shocked.

So without further ado, I present to you, Octoloan.com:

As I usually do, I have several questions and/or concerns about this commercial (only a few of which I have outlined below).

1. Really? Octomom? That's who this group thinks is a good person to emulate?

Yes, people will see Octomom, empathize with her and say, "Yes, Octomom, my life is hard! You really understand me!" and then ask for a loan from this previously unknown source named after Octomom. It's brilliant! Brilliant, I say! [perhaps even insert a maniacal laugh here, which would be appropriate considering this whole endeavor is clearly a sinister plot to torture the American TV-watching public.]

Octomom is not even famous anymore. Her 15 minutes were up as soon as those babies turned one week old. Get someone else and rename your loan service. How hard is it to just name it something like "Bad-Decision-Loan.com" and leave it at that?

2. The fine print says that Octomom has never utilized these services and is solely serving as a spokesperson. Even though she literally says "Take it from someone who's been there." I'm not sure what their angle is. Who are they marketing to? This commercial ran on Fuse, which is a music channel. During a Justin Bieber concert. Do they think other fellow septomoms and sextomoms are just sitting around watching Justin Bieber? No. They are chasing multiple children around the house because they realize they have multiple children running around the house. They aren't making commercials about loan services with terrible names, either.

This commercial makes Ken Nugent look credible.

3. The voice. Oh, the voice. It kind of sounds like Janice from Friends if she had grown up in the midwest and gotten lip injections in an attempt to look like Angelina Jolie. Again I ask, why do you want Octomom to be your spokesperson? By virtue of the name itself, said person has to speak. Which involves voices.

Do you see where I'm going with this, random lawyers with terrible marketing strategies? Do you see how ridiculous this is? Yes...that feeling starting to well up inside you is called regret. Embrace it, cry about it for a minute, then shut this down. No good can come from it.

What's your least favorite commercial?

A Eulogy for the Flash Mob

Grab a box of Kleenex and get comfortable you guys, because you're about to be moved.

The first time I became acquainted with the flash mob was probably about five or six years ago on YouTube. Back when "going viral" actually meant something and we appreciated an honest day's work.

I remember it like it was yesterday...

Actually, no. No I don't. I vaguely remember seeing a YouTube video set in a library with some musical theater kids bursting into some disney song or something.

But nevertheless, like the rest of America, I was infatuated.

The choreography I'd surely never be able to execute, the collaboration of hundreds of people for a common goal of DANCE, the looks on the unknowing spectators' faces when one person starts dancing alone and suddenly seemingly-ordinary passers-by join in, revealing they were in on the joke ALL ALONG... where's bad?

The flash mob grew in popularity with rapid determination, never discriminating between who could participate. Any man, woman or child who had the ability to construct even the loosest definition of jazz hands with rhythm exceeding that of a chimpanzee was invited.

It was everywhere. In shopping malls, in university common rooms, theme parks--basically anywhere there is a large gathering of people.

Soon the flash mob became not just a three-minute dose of joy for disgruntled patrons of the Gap, but a vehicle for marriage proposals and…um...probably other things, but mostly marriage proposals. It was the perfect way to get your friends involved and surprise your bride-to-be simultaneously.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. What started as a celebration of human happiness everyone was secretly scribbling onto their bucket lists spiraled into it's-no-longer-cool-if-everyone's-doing-it-ville, much like Facebook or listening to Gotye. Exclamations of "Oh! A flash mob!" accompanied with extended viewership became "Oh...a flash mob" and a bee line towards the Sunglass Hut.

Sadly, this happens to all things innovative and cool. Eventually they are run into the ground by everyone on the planet. And that's not the flash mob's fault. It brought joy to many, it starred in its very own TV show hosted by Howie Mandel, it united many a betrothed couple, but all good things must come to an end. It's time to say goodbye.

So farewell, flash mob. You were good to us, and we will remember you fondly, but it's time to bury you. [cue that sad trumpet march they play at funerals]

You were a good trend--much better than planking or the Macarena. May you live in infamy.

Have you ever been a part of a flash mob? Let's share our stories to honor its memory.

Canada is beating us at money.

Ohhhh snap, y'all. We thought the day would never come. We thought the U.S. of A. would be number one in everything all the time always. But we were wrong, my friends, because this here is the year of the Canadians (see: Carly Rae Jepsen). Why? Because the average Canadian is now richer than the average American.

I don't know how they calculate it with the exchange rate and all, and I'm not really going to investigate. You can take that up with Time magazine (someone probably already has). But it's happening, you guys. While we're busy arguing over whose fault it is we're all fat, Canadians are secretly just plugging away making more money than us, Toonies and all.

It's actually important to note Ms. Jepsen in this post because now that I think about it, she's probably the main reason this is possible. She's making bank on the catchiest song ever heard by the human race because she actually co-wrote it.

The article's main point is that the average income in Canada is now higher than the average income in the states. I'm going to assume (incorrectly) that Carly's income is included in these figures, hiking up the average. ERGO she is to blame.

So, how do we come back from this?

It's not going to be easy, but I think if we work together we can do it. We can once again beat Canada in everything. Here's how:

1) Stop outsourcing pop stars. I wrote a post about this a few months ago (clearly no one in the American government reads my blog), so I won't spent much time on this. But JBiebs, Jepsen, Drake, One Direction (British, but Canada is basically the UK right?)…we've got to start manufacturing our own here, guys. We used to be a country of production. We used to make things, including pretty people who could sing and dance. But we've dropped the ball. We're spending too much time making youtube videos and not enough time training up future hit-factories. I elect Usher to lead this committee, since he's clearly very good at manufacturing pop stars. This time, go American though, Raymond, or you've let them win.

2) Let Canadian television borrow Ryan Seacrest for a while (for pay). He's good at his job and everything, but we could do without him for a couple years. "THIS…is Ca-NA-dian Idol!" Can we force him to do this against his will? Now I just want to see it happen.

3) Form a human fence across the Canadian border and demand five dollars from anyone going into America. This also creates jobs so, win/win. Link Number 3,294 (Night Shift) in the Canadian Border Fence would be a job title in this scenario. It would totally work.

I can't be expected to come up with all the ideas, okay? I'm no economist. I'm just a commentator no one asked to hear from. My job is to strike up conversations about the issues. But personally, I think there's something there with Human Fence.

What do you think we should do to fix this imbalance?

A Love Letter to One-F Jef

Dear One-F Jef,

Where do I begin? I suppose from the very beginning.

It seems like just yesterday you glided into our lives on a skateboard, only to discard it in the bushes seconds later in an effort to demonstrate your devil-may-care attitude. We were admittedly skeptical at first. I mean, you threw it into a bush, One F. But the bashful "Oh that? Yeah, that was stupid" you threw out later in defense, paired with your endearing smile, redeemed the entire thing.

A hipster haircut defying gravity at every turn, skinny ties as well as jeans--this Nashvillian heart was hard-pressed not to swell at the sight of you (note my aforementioned crush on hipster culture). Sure, you could easily be a forgotten member of One Direction, but is that a bad thing, your charming demeanor asks? I'm here to answer: no. No it is not.

From day one we knew you weren't like the others. Whilst Arie's grim reaper hands were drifting ever closer to Maynard's unmentionables, you waited patiently, endless charm radiating from across the room where you sat.

Resistance was futile--Maynard was drawn to you like fake teeth to ironic suspenders. Who are you? Why weren't you proclaiming your infatuation with her immediately? Why isn't your hair spiked with gel and how does it still maintain its shape without it?

She was hooked. And so were we.

Neither your hair on the beach nor your lack of athleticism could detract from your pure, unadulterated charm. Your words, though fewer in number than most of your competitors' (except Michael*), made up for their infrequence with clever jocularity and swoon-worthy quips. Ugly Gerard Butler** glowered in the corner, wishing he could harness his words as poetically as you did (instead of just watching them tumble out of his mouth with abandon and mingle with his tears of rage).

As you jet-setted across the globe with the World's Worst Historian, you continually knock her down a peg simply by being a person of above-average intelligence and wit. This obvious contrast only makes us adore you even more. But no matter to Maynard, she just wants you to love her.

And then…then there was the puppets. I wanted to hate your puppet show. Really, I did. I mean, you are 27 years old on a televised dating competition reenacting scenes from the previous weeks with ugly marionettes. But One F, dang it if I didn't just love you more. By all accounts, it doesn't make sense. You make even the most terrible situations enjoyable.

I don't know what this power you have over me is, One F, (I can only assume I've been confunded or given Amortentia***) but I commend you. You took group dates like a champ. You wear skinny jeans and shoot guns at the same time. You wrote a real-live letter to Emily without making Tony listen to the whole thing or making me want to gag. You turned down the fantasy suite without giving Maynard the chance to revoke the invitation she elected to give you in the first place.

You say things like: "I just want to hold her hand til we're 110."

Sigh.

One F, if we never see you again after Sunday's LIVE THREE HOUR LONG DRAMATIC FINALE SPECTACULAR FIREWORK CITY USA, then go forth knowing you were the world's first Mormon hipster to ever be featured on prime time reality television and somehow remained irrefutably likable.

[Also if you're going to need a next step to finding love, I would suggest purchasing a fixed-gear bike and moving to Nashville or just getting this whole thing over with and marrying Zooey Deschanel. That is a reality show I would watch. Newlyweds 2: One F and Zooey. ONE F AND ZOOEY, you guys. That's a perfect name. OR better yet, forget love, drop Zooey altogether and have your own show.]

All that to say, we love you, One F. Keep livin' the dream of knee socks and bowties, and we'll see you on the other side.

Love, Laura (and the rest of everyone ever)

*DRAMATIC SIGH. The long haired guy, okay? He tweeted at me because I am the only one who remembers his name. **trademark Knox McCoy ***If you understood those references, you are one of my people. And by "my people," I mean Harry Potter nerds.

Who's been your favorite Bachelorette contestant? OR if you don't watch this ridiculous show, who would you like to see as a contestant that would make you watch?

CNN Made a Poop Pun, You Guys.

I want to high five whoever got away with writing this headline. It had to be an intern, right?

This anchor must hate her life, having to report nonsense stories like Robin on How I Met Your Mother. But for the record, she does have a British accent, so she's got that going for her.

CNN probably figured it would never see the light of day after its initial posting, but thanks to the saddest headline of all time ("Rare Baby Panda Dies"), this gem of a video was on the sidebar as a related story.

Why, you ask? The tea is made with panda poop.

And apparently everyone wants to get their hands on summa that panda poop over in China, because its inclusion makes the aforementioned tea very expensive. (This would fail in the U.S., I'm almost certain. But crazier things have happened. Like Doritos Locos Tacos.)

Disappointingly, the tea does not actually contain panda poop, like an even more disgusting version of already-disgusting bubble tea, which I was picturing. The tea leaves are just fertilized with it. Which is way less exciting.

But hey, it's the punny headline that counts, am I right?

To quote Avery Jessup, "It's a 24-hour news cycle, Jack, we really don't have time to do it right anymore."

I'm sure we're making lyricist and composer Irving Caesar, who wrote "Tea for Two" as part of a musical in 1925 (according to Wikipedia), super proud by using his lyrics in such an honorable way.

Sorry, Irv. I'm sure you slaved over this song for months, trying to pick the perfect words to express the theme you envisioned, and we replaced one of those words with "poo." All in the name of a cheap headline for a fluff story. But we also revived your song with singing cartoon chipmunks in 1965, so...I think we can call it even.

[SIDE NOTE: Does this headline count as a parody even though it's a somewhat-serious news story? Or would Irving's family receive royalties for this? That would be a hilarious royalty check. These are the kinds of things you think about when you went to Belmont for undergrad.]

So touché, intern at CNN, whoever you are. You're doing our generation proud.

Have you ever eaten/drunk a totally weird delicacy in another country like fancy Panda Poop Tea?

The Legend of Furby

By now you MAY have heard the harrowing truth I am about to reveal. It's prying and crawling its way back into our lives. It's lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce into the homes of children everywhere. It's a biology experiment gone terribly wrong.

The creature's colorful, furry coat is a poor distraction from the rest of its haunting features: a snippy little beak where its mouth should be; the complete absence of arms or wings; an enormous pair of bat-like ears that shift when it senses your presence.

And the eyes--oh, the eyes! How they burrow straight through your soul and into your nightmares! More resembling oversized saucers than anything, they demand your full attention, lest you be forced to endure the beast's bone-chilling cry.

This creature I'm describing to you is none other than Furby himself...and he's back.

Shh! Don't say his name too loud. He might hear you. (No really. They can hear you.)

Furby has returned and is more frightening than ever. How, you ask? How could this eerie genetic anomaly get any more alarming than it was in 1998?

Digital eyes.

DIGITAL EYES.

Not the kind of digital you see on your iPad or an Xbox. No, no. That would be far too gentle for this brutish devil.

The kind of digital you see on alarm clocks and Tomagachis. The kind of pixelated creepery that has no place on Furby 2.0.

Furby: Reloaded also has a corresponding iOS app and personality development. I maintain that we are giving these Grendel-descendents too much power, and it will be our undoing.

Let me tell you a secret: my original Furby (which I paid for with lemonade stand money--true story) still sits on a shelf in my bedroom at my parents' house to this day. I think it's because he simply willed himself to remain there.

In the last 14 years, this thing has not been lost, donated or thrown away. Even if we had, you know it would have come back Toy-Story style (only much more like that fishing rod with barbie legs or one-eyed spider-baby than Buzz or Woody).

And there it sits, sleeping. Silently. Watching from behind those plastic eyelids. And you know what? I think he's been waiting for this very moment, when Furby will be resurrected. (Not unlike Voldemort, now that I think about it. Even the time span is eerily similar. Guys, what if I'm harboring a horcrux? Where do I get a Basilisk fang?)

I imagine he will sense a disturbance in the force when Furby 2.0 arrives. His eyes will shoot open and he will begin communicating with the new fleet of Furbies, acting as a spy until they finally have enough manpower to overtake the planet.

These are dark times, my friends. Dark times.

Be vigilant; for the time is fast approaching when Furby will be back on the shelves and under the Christmas trees of unknowing parents all across this good nation of ours. And we must be on our guard.

For, if nothing else, just as its 1998 predecessor, Furby 2.0 has no "off" switch. And those things never shut up.

Did you have or want a Furby? Why or why not?

Vacation = Awesome Videos

Today I am on vacation visiting my husband who is in the middle of a 5-week gig playing at a camp in North Carolina. SO because of this I am taking the day off from blogging. But never fear! I have left you in the capable hands of Lennon and Maisy (below). They are super talented sisters from the Nashville area, and I have watched this video approximately 20 times.

So enjoy, and have a wonderful weekend!

Or if music isn't your thing, here's a video of Ron Swanson giving a speech at an art show. Happy Thursday!

Dear Adele: Stop being so awesome.

Listen, Adele. We've got to have a chat.

I love you and all, but you can't just keep winning Grammys and having babies and making the rest of us 24-year-olds look bad.

Sure, you're not married yet, so score 1 Laura I guess, but other than that, you're just crushing us, here.

You turn bad breakups into number one hits. You're the epitome of handling fame with class. You somehow manage to appeal to both high-brow critics and teenage girls. You eat vocal problems for breakfast. Let's be honest. What can't you do?

But I'm going to need you to cease and desist being so awesome. I hypothesize that there's a limited amount of awesome in the world, and you're hogging it. How are any of the rest of us supposed to live up?

Your baby is probably going to have perfectly sculpted cheekbones and a voice that shatters glass. (But hey, I can rap the first verse to "Super Bass.")

She'll probably glide through high school with grace and not end up on 16 and Pregnant. She might decide that she doesn't want to live in your shadow and become an award-winning physicist (who sings a mean karaoke) instead, but either way she will rise to the top. I can only assume that kind of awesome is genetic.

So Adele, I implore you: be a little less awesome. Not a lot, or people will become suspicious. Just a little bit. Like, admit you can't spell the word "pterodactyl," or let someone Punk you. Tell us you do crossword puzzles in your spare time or secretly hate the Beatles. I don't care. Be creative. Anything to knock yourself down a peg.

Because y'know what? Now that more people are becoming aware you're only 24 years old, I'm anticipating a lot of "what are you doing with your life?" kinds of questions, and I'm just not prepared to deal with that.

So thanks, keep being awesome (but not too awesome), and while I'm asking you for stuff---force your daughter to form a duo with Blue Ivy in about 20 years. We'd like to see that.

Love, Laura

P.S. Please don't have a boy, or half of the above letter will make no sense.

What celebrities are making you look bad? Or better yet, which ones are making you look better?

A Picture is Worth 1000 Words: Spice Girls Reunion Edition

 

I'm going to level with you. I totally had another post nearly finished and this image was going to be a side note, but I had too many sub-side notes to remain cohesive. Even for me, the girl whose paragraphs are rampant with parentheses.

Because of this I present to you the third installment of  "A Picture is Worth 1000 Words," which I have deemed the Allspice Edition. See what I did there? Because allspice is actually a spice, but it's also ALL the Spices. All in a row. Like in your pantry. Because they're spices.

Ahem.

Background: This picture was taken because the Spice Girls will soon have their very own musical entitled Viva Forever. Yep. Real life, people.

I have a bone to pick with so-called Ginger Spice. I feel like she should be legally obligated to maintain her red hair color throughout the remainder of her life. She can't just decide to be blonde. 1) there is already a blonde one, and 2) her name is still Ginger Spice. You can't be Ginger Spice if you're not a ginger, and you can't change your name to Blondie Spice. Because that's not a thing and it sounds dumb. It would alter my entire childhood, and they already took away Pluto, so they can't take away Ginger Spice.

But let's move past Ginger's unapologetic betrayal of her Spice identity and talk about why Scary Spice looks so uncomfortable in this photo.

Possible reasons Scary Spice is wearing that look on her face:

1. She's actually not the real Scary Spice, which makes the rest of the spices a little bit racist.

2. She just found out about the musical.

3. She's whispering into a tiny microphone to her publicist about how Baby Spice doesn't look so "baby" anymore.

4. She thinks Posh is a vampire (a fair assumption, based on this picture).

5. She's trying to scratch an itch on her heel with the toe of her other foot. It's not going well.

6. Sporty Spice is secretly touching her butt.

7. She is wondering who Baby Spice's twin is and what she's done with Ginger Spice.

8. She's sending signals to her bodyguard off-camera trying to get him to rescue her from this social suicide.

9. She thought this was going to be a business meeting about trademarking "zig-a-zig-ha."

10. "Spice World" is playing on a TV in the corner and she's lost in thought, questioning her life decisions up until this point.

Your turn. What do you think she's doing?

Psst...have you downloaded my ebook for free yet? All you have to do is subscribe to my posts via e-mail on the sidebar or by clicking here. That's it! You'll get a link in the confirmation email to download it for free.

An Amateur Analysis of Disney/Pixar's "Brave"

As a connoisseur of all things pop culture (I use this term loosely), I wear many hats. Sometimes I track trends, sometimes I question current events, sometimes I write ballad poetry about Spencer Pratt. I'm really a renaissance woman if you think about it.

Anyway, today, much like little Theodore in the picture above (whose name I just gave him), I wear the hat of movie critic.

Saturday my husband and I saw the new Disney/Pixar movie, Brave. Anyone who knows me at all or has even talked to me for more than five minutes probably knows I love all things Disney. Pixar movies are no exception. Needless to say, I was pretty excited.

I have viewed the film (movie critics call movies "films," you guys) and made some assessments I'd like to share with you.

SPOILER ALERT:

If you haven't seen Brave but care deeply about keeping your ears away from major plot points, unfortunately this is your stop. I won't give away endings or anything, so that you can still go see it, but I'll be giving away some of the plot that isn't covered in the trailer.

So, here we go.

An amateur analysis of Disney/Pixar's Brave:

Overall, though I thought it was a fun movie, I was disappointed that it didn't hit the bar most--actually, all--Pixar movies have set. It was no Up. Here's the three main things that threw me off:

1) There were more bears than I would have expected. Like, 500 percent more bears. I expected approximately zero bears. There were five. Little bears, big bears, mean bears, nice bears who start losing their inner identity as a human and slipping into becoming a ferocious bear...basically all your types of bears.

The thing the trailer does not tell you is that the central plot point of this movie is actually the main character's mother (the queen) turning into a bear. I know, I know. I was surprised, too. And something has to happen [I won't tell you what, so as not to ruin it completely] before the 2nd sunrise in order for her NOT to remain a bear forever. So there's that.

2) The characters and story were underdeveloped, in my opinion. I don't know how Pixar usually accomplishes this, because this movie was probably the same length as Nemo, Up, Toy Story, etc., but it definitely needed a little more. There were concepts in the movie we were just forced to accept without any explanation, and I feel like movies need to give you a reason to care about what's happening. In order for me to invest in it, I need to know the point. I need some background narrative or something. I also felt like it resolved super quickly. The tension didn't last long enough for me to be worried that it might not resolve, you know?

Anyway, for example, there is a witch in the story who we don't get to know at all. She just lives in the woods, has no name, makes wood carvings by day but turns people into bears by night. We see her for about five minutes then don't see her again. What's that about? I'm just saying, Pixar. Step it up, story-wise.

I learned more about the characters in Up during a 90-second montage than I did in the entirety of this movie.

3) I was under the impression that the main storyline was the suitor business. And that she would go off on an adventure and learn things and meet other characters and everything. But then the bear thing happened and I think it just unraveled my suspension of disbelief. It totally took a left turn from what I expected. I think they needed to hint at that in the trailer--y'know, just to prepare me for bears. Maybe there was a more bear-heavy trailer and I just missed it, but because I wasn't expecting it, it had already gone on for like 20 minutes before I realized, "oh...ok..this is the main plot? Alright, we're doing this. Bears. Got it."

I still enjoyed it because it was Pixar and it was a fun movie, but it just didn't have the depth that all the other Disney/Pixar, and even regular Disney (like Princess & the Frog, which is one of my favorites), have.

So in conclusion: bears.

So in addition to being a terrible judge of men, Maynard is also a sub-par judge of what constitutes a "great" movie. As if anyone's surprised. [For all my fellow Bachelorette commentators out there.]

If you've seen Brave, what did you think? Am I totally off-base? If not, what's your favorite Pixar movie?

My Experience with Every Speech-Automated Menu Ever

Robot Lady: Thank you for calling [insert company here] customer service. In order to assist you better, please state your account number. Me: Five Zero Two Six Six Z Five H One Four Four X Nine Zero W C Zero Eight Zero Dash Two.

Robot: Okay. Five. Ze-ro. Two. Six. Six. Zee. Five. Aych. One. Four. Four. Ex. Nine. Ze-ro. Double-you. See. Ze-ro...

Me: EXASPERATED SIGH.

Robot: ...Eight. Ze-ro. Dash. Two. Is this correct? Just say, "yes," or "no."

Me: YES.

Robot: Ok, thanks. It looks like you are Lor-ah. Mc-Clell-an. Is this correct? Just say "Yes" or "no."

Me: YES.

Robot: Ok, What can I help you with today? I can give you information about your account, do something you don't want to do, do something you don't understand why anyone would ever do, or do something else. So, to recap, just say "account," "something I don't want," "Something I don't understand" or "Something else." ..."Account," "Don't want," "Don't Understand," "Something else." Got it? Ok, go.

Me: [stunned silence at the length of these options] Something else.

Robot: Thanks. You chose "something else," is that correct?

Me: YES.

Robot: Okay, would you like to: punch me in the face, throw me off a bridge, or speak with a representative? Just say, "face," "bridge," or "representative."

Me: [sigh] representative.

Robot: Sorry, didn't catch that. Say, "face," "bridge," or "representative."

Me: REP-RE-SENT-A-TIVE.

Robot: Sorry, I still didn't understand. Let me transfer you to a representative.

Me: THANK YOU.

Robot: Sorry, I didn't catch that. Let me transfer you to a representative.

Me: [silence for fear of messing up my chance to talk to a real person]

Robot: "WE BUILT THIS CITY! [static noise] WE BUILT THIS CITY ON roesshhwiajfh [unintelligible noises] hhhosssagsa ...THIS CITY! WE BUILT THIS---"

Representative: Hellomynameisriverawhatisyouraccountnumberplease?

Me: EXASPERATED SIGH.

[end scene]

Just let me punch in numbers, okay? I really, really don't mind. Thanks.

What is the worst automated customer service call you've ever endured?

Weird Christian Marketing Tactic #238: Puppy Bibles

My friend Jenny suggested I write a post on this abomination, and it simply too good to pass up running unsolicited commentary on. World, I present to thee: The Puppy Bible.

Yes, the Puppy Bible. For all your puppy AND Jesus-loving friends (who just can't bear to separate the two). Like the girl in Free Fallin'. Only with puppies instead of horses.

Thoughts and/or follow-up questions to its mere existence: 

1. This is the easiest Jesus Juke provocation I could ever imagine. "Oh, the Bible isn't good enough for you on its own? You had to add puppies to it to get you to read it? Shame on you. Shame on you for adding puppies to Jesus. There is a time and a place for puppies, but this is not it. It's like you don't even own an ESV study bible."

2. There are twelve photos of "adorable" puppies contained in this version of God's word. [It's important to note that they specified they are not ugly puppies, but adorable puppies. Just in case you were worried they put ugly puppies in there. This is not the Ugly Puppy Bible. This is the (adorable) Playful Puppies Bible.]

Once you look at these 12 puppies, isn't that...it? I mean, do you ever look at them again? How long could the excitement possibly last? 72 seconds? Is that really worth the blasphemy? Why not get a puppy-a-day calendar? Or the Internet? Then you get more than 12 puppies to behold, and you don't get struck dead by an angry God. Win/win.

3. Did they decide on 12 puppies because of the 12 disciples? Are said puppies NAMED after the disciples? Are they also DRESSED like disciples? Do the puppies look exasperated from sitting through a three-hour photo shoot dressed like ancient Jews? This is getting more interesting by the second.

4. Guys. Guys. You guys. There is even a RIBBON MARKER. So you can mark your spot (no puppy pun intended). With a ribbon. Is this always still listed as a feature for Bibles? I think it's safe to say by now we assume there is a ribbon marker unless otherwise stated.

A feature we would need to be alerted to would be a lack of ribbon marker. "This bible does NOT come with a ribbon marker. We at Zondervan believe it contributes to brain-laziness, so if you're not lazy, buy this Bible. If you are lazy, don't. Whatever. It's up to you. But just so we're clear, you're on your own bookmark-wise." It could happen.

5. There is a sister Bible to this Bible called the Curious Kittens Bible. Which is approximately 400 percent worse, because cats are 400 percent worse than dogs. So if you're going to purchase a Bible with cute animals inside, go big or go home and go puppies all the way. Don't risk your salvation over cats. They're not worth it. They sass. Sure, they're cute for about 2.5 seconds when they're kittens (post-declawing) but then they grow up and want nothing to do with you. I don't reward that kind of behavior.

What is the most ridiculous rendition of the Bible and/or Christian marketing tactic you've ever seen?

Do we lose something important by using a Bible app?

I'm not against technology. I may be a little late coming around, but I generally embrace it. Which is why I have an iPhone, and on that iPhone I have a Bible app.

It's convenient when I forget my Bible or just need to look up a verse quickly, but in general I prefer holding my Bible. I'm not against people who don't. That's just me. I still have a monthly planner in my purse and take notes in a real live notebook.

But I know plenty of people who would rather just use the Bible app on their phone or iPad than carry a Bible to and fro.

So here's what I've been thinking about lately: aside from the common cry of the anti-app crowd (wanting to hold it in your hands, write in it, feel it) I think there might also be another thing that's lost with the app version of the Bible, and here's why:

It has a search function.

I mean, it'd be weird if it didn't. You'd waste half your life scrolling through thousands of iPhone-sized pages to get to 1 Thessalonians.

But because of this feature, we never have to know where anything actually is in the Bible.

I only came to this realization a couple weeks ago. It may seem obvious, but I didn't make the connection that because I can use the search function, I never have to recall where any verse or chapter or book is in relation to any other verse or chapter or book.

This realization has stuck with me for a few days, and left me with a question:

Is there something important lost by having a searchable Bible?

I don't have an answer; I'm asking.

It's probably not as much an issue for us because we grew up learning the books of the Bible. When we search for Romans, we know we're in the New Testament, after the gospels and Acts (Most of the time. If we sing that song we learned in 4th grade sunday school real quick in our head.).

But will the Bible eventually be primarily used in an electronic format, so that future generations don't have to sing "Matthew, Mark and Luke and John, Acts and the letter to the Ro-mans..." over & over again to win stickers in Sunday School? (Will stickers even EXIST? I don't want to think about a world where stickers don't exist. Let's not follow that rabbit trail any further.)

I think that's a real possibility. (The electronic Bible thing, not the sticker thing. Hopefully.)

But I just don't know if that's a huge detriment or just part of adapting to the digital world. Is a general knowledge of Old vs. New Testament all we need?

I would think the most glaring problem would come with the chronology of the Old Testament stories. If we don't know if Moses came before David, how will we understand the significance of Jesus?

Or should we just teach the order of the books of the Bible in Sunday School and church to form the foundation, but continue to use the electronic format in practice?

Would that approach still produce a sufficient knowledge of the grander story of the Bible? Or would we lose something in the process?

Again, I'm asking. I genuinely want to know what you think.

I'm leaning towards "yes, there is something lost in the 'search' function and we should fight to preserve the real-life book," but that may just be my late-adopter still-uses-a-pen quality talking.

What do you think? Is knowing the order of the books and where verses are located within the context of the Bible important enough to outweigh the convenience of a Bible app?

A Toast to Will & Jada on their 15th Anniversary

Guys, this is a momentous occasion. A celebrity couple is approaching their 15th wedding anniversary this year. I don't know if this has ever happened before in human history. Three guesses as to who it is… [just pretend you didn't see the post title, ok?]…the first two don't count.

Did you guess the only celebrity couple who continues to defy the odds? The couple who has produced not one, but two mini pop sensations? The couple whose members feature in TWO three-quels this summer? Did I just make up the word three-quel? Let's just reveal who it is:

Will and Jada, of course. I made a plea to this couple in my last celebrity couple assessment, and it looks like they heard me.

I hope this is not some sort of jinx. Like the 15-year-curse or something. If they end up divorced by 2014 I am going to have a bone to pick with Madonna (who I can only assume is the current reigning shaman of celebrities---the previous being Zha Zha Gabor--- casting curses on other pop culture icons by waving her Gollum arms. FYI that's also how she stays looking "young" and persuades people to let her do halftime shows in 2012. Look it up; it's a thing. After all, Kabala does combine the fun parts of Judaism with magic. WHOA, two 30 Rock references in one paragraph. This just got real.)

Anyway, in honor of Will and Jada's 15th anniversary, I thought I would make a toast [prepare your glass of champagne…or sparkling cider, whatever works]:

[Ahem]

As a society we've known both Will and Jada for a number of years. Will, since his days with Aunt Viv and Uncle Phil, and Jada...since she married Will. And that time she was in one of the Matrix movies.

We always knew the Fresh Prince would find himself that beautiful honey someday, and he surely did. Never in the tabloids, but always in our hearts, Will and Jada set an example for the rest of the Britneys and Kims in the world who think of marriage as more of a temporary lapse in judgment rather than a lifetime commitment. But you get that, Will-ada. (Can I call you Will-ada?) You know that marriage is not for fools with reality TV shows or anyone named Ashton Kutcher. It's for people who love each other and will raise their kids to be exceedingly awesome, which you have done.

You don't expect some lavish celebration each year you stay married. You high five and call each other "homie." And that's enough.

You, Will-ada, are our rock. You gracefully elude the limelight, but we always know you're there. Steady and going strong. Without you, we have no hope for any celebrity marriage.

So to Will and Jada, who keep the dream alive for people like me who secretly wish all celebrity marriages would last, just to prove the cynics wrong. May you be togetha 4-eva. Here, here!

An only-slightly-related yet still important question: What is your favorite Will Smith movie?

Analysis of the "Stank Face"

Stank Face, n: A unique facial expression characterized by the wrinkling of the nose, squinting of the eyes, and swinging of the head, typically displayed by someone who is listening to a very impressive, usually soulful musical performance.

The stank face can also be accompanied by phrases such as, "nasty," "sick," and "dirty." But don't be fooled. These terms actually indicate that the listener finds the song pleasing, not terrible. Confused? Don't worry. It's easy to get lost if you're a first time stank-facer.

Though the stank face has been around for decades, usually showing up on the faces of funk bass players and Eddie Murphy in Dream Girls, it began popping up in the public eye around the time we started making people audition publicly in order to entertain us. [It should be noted that I have zero basis for these factoids other than the fact that they seem kind of right to me.]

I personally am not prone to the stank face. It just doesn't come naturally to me. I'm more of a smile/bob my head/"Dang!" kind of person. My husband, however, is an expert stank-facer. But he can't whistle and I can, so I'd say point Laura.

EXAMPLE:

I discovered this in what is quite possibly my new favorite thing on the internet (at least for today): Who wore it better: Stank Face Edition. At least that's what I renamed it.

To save you the trouble of clicking over (unless you want to see both awesome examples), here is what I consider the epitome of a stank face:

Note the sheer commitment to the stank face J.Lo has. She lets it take her over: the head-swaying in full force, the frown, the fact that at first you can't quite tell if she's about to burst into tears or punch someone…it's all there.

Great form, J.Lo. Great form. Solid 10's across the board.

I hope you found this post educational as well as entertaining---edu-taining, if you will. For any further questions about the Stank Face, please refer to wikipedia or urban dictionary, as I have exhausted my information in this 400-word blog post.

1) Have you ever seen a quality stank face? If so, who? 2) If not, what American Idol contestant (any season) was most likely to get a stank face from you? I'll go first: probably Carrie Underwood.

The Ballad of Spencer Pratt (With Actual Rhymes)

I wrote a real ballad, you guys. Really. At least according to Wikipedia I did, because that's where I got the information on how to format a ballad. It rhymes and has iambic tetrameter and EVERYTHING.

So, without further ado, I present to you: The Ballad of Spencer Pratt.

Note: if you don't know who that is, you're in luck, because this ballad tells his story.

[Ahem]

The Ballad of Spencer Pratt

By Laura K. McClellan

There once was a man named Spencer Pratt, And friendly he was not. With white-blonde mane and matching 'stache, 'Twas only fame he sought.

The tails of Lauren's coat he rode, Into the spotlight gold. He creeped and slithered through the cast, As drama did unfold.

He played the villain willingly, Crafting his plan well, 'Til soon his lady had no friends. (She must have thought she smelled.)

Rumors, lies and secrets flew As Spencer shrugged and laughed, "I don't know what you're speaking of, LC is full of chaff."*

Synonymous his name became with douchery utmost; The public shuddered at the name of Speidi, 'cause they're gross.

Even Spencer's sister knew Her brother was the worst. But though the others pleaded so, To Heidi, he came first.

"What's next for Spencer?" you may ask, "Where can he go from here?" I'll tell you, listener; lean in close. You won't believe your ears.

That Spencer, filled with wit and malice, Knew just what to do. Succumbing to ol' Heidi's nag, He finally said "I do."

At first in Mexico they wed, With no one there to see, The sketch factor was obvious, So they wed again publicly.

Drama, drama everywhere! The magazines proclaimed. Speidi is official now! It will go down in flames!

Now after this, the couple fled To star on NBC, "Get me out of here," it said "I'm a celebrity!"

Speidi lasted but four days on that deserted island, But not before our hero, Pratt Was baptized by a Baldwin.

And then that one time, Speidi wrote (I use that term quite loosely) A book on how to capture fame And feature in US Weekly.

Since then the duo's ebbed and flowed, Divorce was on the table. "A fame whore," Pratt professed himself; Heidi didn't like that label.

"But wait, just wait, it's all a joke!" Sir Spencer cried aloud. "The wife needed a boost in fame; divorce sure draws a crowd."

With that the public turned their backs On Spencer and his lady, And he went down in history As King of All Things Shady.

What can we learn from Spencer Pratt, His creeper-stache and all? Don't be a jerk to everyone; Or this could be you, y'all:

*It rhymed, okay? This is my first ballad.

Question: What do you think Spencer is doing in that picture?

The One-Trick Ponies of Hip Hop

Since the dawn of the 1990's, there have been hip hop artists who shine brightly at one thing and one thing only, then slowly fade into oblivion. They're the one-trick ponies of the r&b community, usually known for one phrase or attribute which is run into the ground by mainstream radio and then goes to no-man's land to die. I don't know exactly where, but it's the same place the Spin Doctors and the people who sang the Macarena went. [Related note: I've been listening to my 90's pop Pandora station a lot lately.]

I thought I'd take some time to salute a few of these connoisseurs of catchphrases and bring them back into the spotlight once again, if only for a moment.

Lil Jon

Back in 2004, when "crunk" was still a thing and it was acceptable for rappers to carry around goblets dubbed "pimp cups," there was a show called Chapelle's Show. In one of the episodes, Chapelle played Lil Jon talking to himself on the phone in what I'd say was a pretty accurate portrayal , as the only words he said were "WHAT?" and "YEAH!" and "OH-KAY!" [The guys in my 10th grade class thought this was hilarious and took it upon themselves to carry on the joke--loudly-- for the remainder of the semester.]

With that, Lil Jon's fate was sealed.

According to Wikipedia, Lil Jon still does things, but no one will ever remember him for anything other than those three words he interjected in every song ever, yelled like someone on a manic rampage after just having escaped from an asylum. I can never tell whether Lil Jon is angry or ecstatic. Though he had notable hits including the moderately successful "Snap Yo Fingers" and "Bia Bia," Lil Jon is forever immortalized by his outbursts of those three iconic words behind more-famous people like Usher and Ludacris.

T-Pain

Oh, sweet T-Pain and your top hats. I actually kind of like this guy. But will he ever be known for anything other than That Guy Who Used A Lot Of Autotune? Probably not. Maybe The Guy From I'm On A Boat. Maybe. But mostly the autotune thing.

T-Pain brought autotune back into the spotlight after Cher tried 7 years earlier with "Believe" and totally failed (in my opinion). But don't worry Cher, the world just wasn't ready for it yet. You were just ahead of your time. Or you're just kind of old for autotuned dance music. You can choose.

T-Pain has also had some hit songs, including the touching ballad "I'm In Luv (Wit A Stripper)," but once again his reputation precedes him and he will be forever That Autotune Guy PARENTHESES No, The One With The Top Hat. But hey, at least you have a top hat collection instead of a pimp cup collection. Because you're classy like that, T-Pain. Don't ever change.

Fun Fact: I just found out his real name is Faheem Rasheed Najm. No wonder he goes by T-Pain.

Missy Elliott

Quick. What are the words to that Missy Elliott song? Y'know…that one that goes…"nick flur flippa flippa flum yet!" That one. At least that's how I sing it. (I dare you to sing it better.)

That's what Missy Elliott will be remembered for. That and being the token girl rapper. Whenever you needed a girl rapper (and Eve was busy), Missy Elliot was what you got. Am I right? It's taken about 10 years for anyone to come remotely close to being the new official Girl Rapper, but Nicki Minaj has officially filled that void, so i'd say Missy's time is over. So hang up your track suit, Missy. It's time to pass the torch.

Who's your favorite one-trick pony artist?

Disturbing Headline of the Day: Naked Man Chews Off Guy's Face

Again, the Disturbing Headline of the Day raises the bar of complete and utter outlandishness. Are you ready for this one?

Naked Man Chews Off Guy's Face

This is not part of an IMDB description of a Liam Neeson movie. No, no. This is real life.

(TIP: don't watch the video if you have a vivid imagination -- read: me --- or if you'd prefer not to be really bummed out for the guy who had to witness it and call the police. I'm regretting it right about now. Hence the lack of picture.)

What makes it even more disturbing is that we find out in the news story the Guy Whose Face Got Chewed Off was ALSO naked.

Let's just set aside the fact that this is not only disgusting but also really sad and strange, especially if you think about it too long. Let's just talk about the some of the questions and/or comments I have for Naked Man Who Chewed Off A Guy's Face, based on the headline alone (because we all know I have them).

First of all, gross.

Second of all, Naked Man, why did you have to be naked? I'd say your plan of attack would garner enough attention in and of itself without you having to shed your clothing to be noticed. And why did you attack another naked man? Did he just happen to be naked, or did you take his clothes first because you clearly misplaced yours? This begs the obvious follow-up question: is Miami secretly a nudist colony?

Third, at what point in your life did you conclude it was acceptable behavior to chew off another human being's face? That's just rude. I feel like this is among the most basic common courtesies you learn in kindergarden. Rule number one: share. Rule number two: don't eat someone's face. It's simple manners, guys.

Fourth, the Hunger Games are not a real thing. I don't know if this influenced your misguided decision or not, but I felt like it needed to be said.

Fifth, what did 2nd Naked Man ever do to you, First Naked Man? Y'know…besides…look appetizing, apparently? (I'm sorry. That was probably in bad taste. I'm having a hard time walking the line between pointing out this story's ridiculousness and simultaneously respecting its sadness.) I'm just saying, what level of hurtful behavior qualifies as worthy of this kind of revenge? No behavior, that's what. I think you need an attitude adjustment.

What questions do you have for Naked Man and/or the city of Miami?