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TiVo Abuse: It’s a Crime February 28, 2008

Posted by Merujo in age, drama, guilty pleasures, I'm a dork, silliness, the military, TiVo, TV, uniforms.
14 comments

Hello. My name is Merujo, and I’m a TiVo abuser.

(Hello, Merujo!)

Okay, I suppose I should clarify that I don’t have a real TiVo. I have the DVR that came with my Verizon FiOS service. Works fine, and as I spend most evenings at home, curled up with the beloved Trinitron, it’s been a lifesaver. Keeps me from going out and spending money and keeps me company when things get a little lonely.

Sounds a little pathetic, no?

Well, just wait – it gets worse and much more pathetic.

Now, first, I have to say that despite looking like the world’s dumpiest middle-aged woman, I am a pretty pop culture-aware chickadee. I have solid taste in tuneage, know my movies, can offer running commentary on any number of current TV shows, and (I’m slightly ashamed to say) I check TMZ.com before CNN.com most mornings. Lord knows, in an age of depressing news, it’s a little uplifting to see that most of us are handling life better than Britney and her millions (and her knocked-up sister and wannabe-author-of-parenting-books mom…)

Yet… deep inside? Apparently, I am a crypt keeper. A slow driver of Buicks. A diner in the early bird special club. An abuser of the DVR.

Sigh.

Here it comes.

I record episodes of “JAG“.

Friggin’ “JAG”… One of the CBS attempts to corner the market on Shows Old People Enjoy.

I’ve made it through seven seasons of “JAG”, I think, since getting the pseudo-TiVo installed. And dear god, I’m still watching.

Now, reading this, you’re probably amazed that those old farts were so rude to me at Dunkin Donuts recently. After all, I think getting hooked on reruns of “JAG” qualifies you instantly for an AARP membership card. Yet I’m a good number of years off that list, thank you very much.

To make this worse, I’ve reached a point in the ten (yes, TEN) years of this show when it had clearly not only jumped the shark, but had dated the shark, spanked the shark, put it in a evening gown and slapped lipstick on it. When was this point, you may ask? (If you’ve stopped laughing at me for watching reruns of “JAG”, that is.) Well, I’ll tell ya…

It was the moment when Marine JAG lawyer, recovering alcoholic, and big-boobied, Farsi-speaking chick Sarah MacKenzie (played by big-boobied, Farsi-speaking Catherine Bell) became… wait for it… psychic.

Yep. Psychic. Out of the blue, she suddenly has visions that help her find missing children, aviators adrift on the ocean, and, apparently in episodes I haven’t seen yet, help her win courtroom cases. Screw the rule of law! I see dead people!

Yeesh.

And yet, I’m still watching, like a heavily medicated retirement home resident.

Now, there are mitigating circumstances. Honest.

First, David James Elliott is kinda hot. And the fact that he’s playing an naval aviator-cum-lawyer makes him even more hot. Well, at least to me it does. Usually, someone with three first names is only seen on the FBI Most Wanted List, but every once in a while, it’s just a tall Canadian actor.

Second, I like courtroom stuff, when it’s done well. I think that comes from watching a lot of “Perry Mason” with my mom when I was a kid. And courtroom drama in uniforms is good.

Third – did I already mention uniforms? I love a good uniform. I used to dig it when the Marines put on their dress duds at the embassy in Moscow. Of course, there was that one time when a Marine got totally wasted and dropped by my apartment to say hello while my mother and a friend were visiting. When sober, this guy was such a delight. He’d bring me Turkish coffee when we were both working midnight shifts. He was smart, well-traveled, and so much fun to talk to. It didn’t hurt that he was also super hot – 6’2″ and a mix of Billy Dee Williams, Douglas Fairbanks and Errol Flynn. (Well, Errol Flynn without the Nazi sympathies, that is.) This time, though, he’d had a snootful and was so out of it, he started hitting on our 70+ -year-old family friend and somehow lost one of his medals in my sofa. But I must say, he was the most dashing drunk in dress blues I ever had over at my place.

But I digress…

So, yeah. It’s entirely possible that I’m really an old person hiding in the body of a middle-aged woman. But there’s hope for me yet! After all, I haven’t started recording old episodes of “Murder, She Wrote” or “Matlock”. Then again, maybe “Murder, She Wrote” wouldn’t be so bad. At least the producers and writers never turned Jessica Fletcher into a psychic crime-solver.

They didn’t, did they?

Sigh.

Pray for me.

How I almost killed my brother before he died January 17, 2008

Posted by Merujo in family, humor, illness, memories, silliness, TV.
8 comments

Saturday is my brother Ed’s birthday. He would have been 55 this year. Double nickels. Riding the AARP train. Eligible for the senior discount. Eating the early bird special.

But it didn’t work out that way. He’ll have been gone two years come June. Not a week goes by when there isn’t something that happens (or something ridiculous I see on TV) and I think, “Oh, man – gotta call Ed and tell him about that.”

And then, I remember.

Can’t do it. No more phone calls.

So, I store away whatever that tidbit is, hoping there’s someone else who will appreciate it at some point.

Ed had a messed up sense of humor. When I was a kid, he was the one who enjoyed terrifying the living shit out of me, hiding in the dark under the stairs, waiting to grab an ankle, or bellowing outside my bedroom window at three in the morning in a demented basso-profundo, like some demonic opera singer, straight from the seventh level of Hell. He also enjoyed just the plain old weird shit this world offered us.

Like the spongmonkeys.

Remember the spongmonkeys?

Sure you do. You may have tried to block them from your memory – they were freaky-looking things. Creatures that looked genetically wrong and sang in raspy falsettos and wore silly hats.

Originally, the spongmonkeys were the totally random and messed up creation of Joel Veitch, an English animator. The world may never know why, but Joel crafted these things and had them sing a song called “We Like the Moon.” If you missed it, here it is, in all its inexplicable glory:

Kinda f’ed up, huh?

But much, much, much more f’ed up is that a restaurant chain – Quiznos – actually made the conscious decision to use these vastly unappetizing critters to advertise their fast food. Now, I love Quiznos (they make a yummy tuna salad sandwich), but I would like to know just how much blond Lebanese hash had to be consumed by their marketing team before they all said, “Hell, yeah! The mutant furry baked potato animals with human mouths! Yes! They just say ‘mmmmm, tasty!’ America will LOVE them! LET’S DO IT!”

Judge for yourself. Here’s the ad:

Now, most of America fell into two camps: the people who were totally creeped out by the Quiznos spongmonkey ad and people without TVs.

Then, there was me and my brother Ed. We thought this ad was freaking hilarious. In fact, in finding that clip on YouTube, I managed to laugh myself into a coughing fit. It’s the words “THEY GOT A PEPPER BAR!” that makes me laugh like a moron. And it had the same effect on my brother. In fact, he used to call me and leave messages on my answering machine simply saying, “THEY GOT A PEPPER BAR!” That was it. Just that. Click. I would double over laughing. It was so ridiculous, and yet so damn funny.

After a week of these calls, I phoned my brother back and did my best spongmonkey impression for him. Now, the thing is, my brother was very ill already at this point, so he was almost always at home when I called. No answering machine, just my brother, struggling to breathe on the other end of the line. And this time was no exception. God help me, I could not resist it, even though I could hear he was struggling with his weak lungs and failing heart. I just went for it. I didn’t even say “Hello” – I just started singing in this hideous high rasp. And, omigod, did my brother ever laugh his ass off. That’s right – I tortured a dying man with laughter and a commercial jingle, screaming, “WE LOVE THE SUBS CUZ THEY ARE GOOD TO US!” until I could only hear him wheezing and gasping through giggles. By the time I got to “THEY GOT A PEPPER BAR!” he was begging me to stop, but laughing all the time.

“Oh my god, I can’t breathe!” Ed wheezed and coughed. “Oh jesus, stop, please!” But through it all he was laughing so hard he was in tears. I stopped, thinking, “Holy shit, I think he’s dying. Now, this is going to be hard to explain to the family…” But then he said, gulping in precious air, “Do it again!”

“THEY GOT A PEPPER BAR!!”

Ed struggled for air and gurgled and howled and said, “Oh shit, that’s funny.”

I hadn’t heard him laugh like that in years. After that, I periodically called him and just yelled about that damn pepper bar and he would laugh and laugh. In time, his laughter became more faint, as he couldn’t even find the energy to respond. Once he told me that, indeed, I had almost killed him with my manic spongmonkey call. You know, the truth is, I think Ed would have loved going out that way, giggling like a fool over a really messed up TV commercial. Hell, we should all go out laughing.

Silly though it may be, I think of Ed every time I go into a Quiznos. I see the pepper bar and have to smile.

Thank you, wee spongmonkeys, you twisted little bastards. You were a damn demented way to advertise a sandwich, but, bless you – you made my brother happy.

Happy birthday, Ed.

But are they bodacious? January 10, 2008

Posted by Merujo in bad jokes, boobs, cars, India, silliness.
4 comments

A car manufacturer in India is following through on a promise to make a reasonably priced car available for the burgeoning middle class of his country. The Tata car company unveiled a marvelously inexpensive model today to the press and a sea of eagerly salivating subcontinental buyers. Retailing at 100,000 rupees (roughly $2,500 US) the question is, for that tiny price tag, just how bodacious are these Tatas?

A modest Tata, but still more than a handful!

Lord knows, guys throughout India are probably dying to get their hands on some Tatas. Generally, men are aware that getting their hands on even one Tata can be pretty expensive, but with this new model, my gosh – guys could get their hands on a couple of really hot Tatas and not break the bank!

Heck, I’m sure the men are not the only ones pondering Tatas these days. The attractive, round, stylish shape and “just right” size of these babies – and the miraculously low price – surely have savvy Indian women of means thinking, “One? Hell, I’m gettin’ myself a pair of new Tatas!” And what man could possibly pass up a woman with a set of fine new Tatas? Of course, taking the conservative local culture into account, there may be concern about women allowing guys to check out their Tatas far too soon. And then, once the guy tires of your Tatas, he’ll be off looking for a new model. Such is life.

As for me, I’m afraid there are no new Tatas in my life. Then again, you never know. Perhaps this will revolutionize the economy market and Detroit and Tokyo will have no choice but to follow suit.

Honda Hooter, anyone? Chevy Chesticle?

So many boob jokes, so little time…

Eastbound Side’s Comin’ Atcha! January 5, 2008

Posted by Merujo in Dance Party Friday, silliness, TV.
2 comments

Spencer found this for me – more Dance Party Friday from Local 12 News in Cincinnati! This time, there’s a little Russian holiday flavor:

I love these guys!

I foresee more of this, so I’ve actually created a “Dance Party Friday” tag (as have, likely, a ton of other folks online.) Yeah, I’m not really writing much right now, but I’m sick and on vacation, and these guys are amusing the hell out of me!

I’m just a squirrel… January 4, 2008

Posted by Merujo in Dance Party Friday, silliness, TV.
5 comments

…tryin’ to get a nut to move your butt!

This is totally silly, and it made me laugh hard enough to have a coughing fit. Meet “Dance Party Friday” in Cincinnati:

God bless local TV news.

Very very silly.

Uhhhmmm… December 30, 2007

Posted by Merujo in bad ideas, silliness, snack attack.
12 comments

I saw this minivan the other day in Rockville:

And all I could think was, “No. Really? Someone named their energy bar ‘Smack’??? And got an NFL player to endorse it?”

It’s true. I’m sure I’m way behind the curve on this and other people have wondered at the wisdom of naming anything they want you to crave “Smack” but, jeezus. Maybe it’s a “hip” name. Am I just so old that heroin has a new, improved nickname these days?

I’d love to know what marketing genius decided that was a good name. I wonder if it actually sells.

Who knows? Maybe it is an act of marketing genius.

Perhaps I’ve missed the boat. Maybe I should be selling my mom’s oatmeal chocolate chip cookies at Metro entrances under the name “Choco-Crack.” I can wear a t-shirt reading “Crack is whack!” with a big happy cookie image on the back.

But then again, I don’t have a spiffy minivan. (Or an NFL contract.)

I would love to know what agency copywriter crafted the text for the Smack website. Pleeeease give it a read. Seriously, it’ll make you slightly crazy. Someone got paid to write that (I assume.) And yet I couldn’t get a gig writing commercial stuff… Go figure.

Hmm… do you think “Meth” would be a good name for a snack cracker? Quick! Somebody get me the number for Nabisco!!

Christmas Lights December 24, 2007

Posted by Merujo in holidays, lights, music, silliness.
3 comments

It’s a quiet Christmas Eve here. Very quiet. Blissfully, Angry Indian Doctor and his woman aren’t making the beast with two backs upstairs – a first for a major holiday this year – so I’m doing my Depeche Mode impression and enjoying the silence.

Truth is, it’s a little lonely, but I have a tiny cold I’m still trying to beat into submission with a combination of brothy soups, diet ginger ale and OJ. So, it’s all the better I’m on my own tonight. Tomorrow is Jewish Christmas with the Artist Formerly Known as the Atomic Editor and Mrs. Former Atomic Editor. They are taking yours truly, lapsed Catholic, for Brazilian BBQ and a movie. (If you’ve never had the Brazilian BBQ experience, it’s basically an opportunity to eat grilled meat until you explode.)

If I weren’t a solo act tonight, I’d go up to see the Christmas lights in Seneca Creek State Park. Sure, they’re a little cheesy, but aren’t some of the best holiday traditions a little cheesy and steeped in a warm bowl of mental carbohydrates? If I were back in Illinois (and the weather wasn’t vile like it currently is in the Midwest) I’d probably be out on the Clark Griswold tour of hideous holiday home lighting with one of my sisters. There are people in my hometown who, year after year, decorate their homes like some nativity whorehouse cum casino. It’s terrifying and yet, in some white trash way, so… beautiful.

Then again, y’all know I’m a total sucker for neon, so a ludicrous number of twinkle lights is okay in my book, too.

I’m sure most of you have seen the video of the house that was decked out in lights, choreographed to “Wizards in Winter” by the Trans Siberian Orchestra back in 2004. In case you are one of the three people left on the planet who missed it, here it is:

That dude got a deal with a beer company that used his light show in a TV ad the next year. Of course, now, every geek with an engineering degree (and yes, that dude was an engineer) or access to one of those Light-O-Rama control sets is turning his house into a musical holiday extravaganza, complete with over the top screaming guiiiitars and lots of drums. It starts reminding me of a Spinal Tap concert after I’ve watched one or two on YouTube.

Somewhere, right now, some guy is in his basement, trying to figure out how he can light up his house next year, all choreographed to Rush music. And somewhere, his wife is spiking her eggnog and praying they’ll have to move shortly thereafter.

Of coure, it’s not just the guys in the basement of the science building giving everyone holiday seizures. Not be outdone, a town in Texas has choreographed a whole city block of lights to the Carol of the Bells:

But it’s the homegrown, “done it myself, Hoss” gee-whiz kids that warm my heart. Aaaand, because this here’s Amur’ca, y’all, land of the residential and recreational trailer, I invite you to view the Wizards in Winter Airstream trailer winter light display, complete with pink flamingos:

Every time a trailer lights up for Christmas, an angel gets his wings.

Or one of the Spears girls gets knocked up…

(I get confused sometimes.)

But really, folks, it’s all one grandly ridiculous electric cheese log of silliness, but it’s fun, too. As long as you’re not living next door. Or paying the electric bill. =)

Merry Christmas, friends. May you be blessed with good health, prosperity, and love.

God bless us, everyone, y’all!

Booty Call December 8, 2007

Posted by Merujo in shopping, silliness, Walmart is evil, whoops.
6 comments

I had to call Walmart (yes, the evil Germantown Walmart) to do a favor for a friend. I asked for the “Health and Beauty” department and waited. And waited. And waited.

I was on hold for TWENTY-ONE minutes. Yes, twenty-one minutes. To be honest, I didn’t really notice because I was working on The Proposal That Ate My Brain, so it didn’t bother me. Plus they had weirdly fascinating ska Xmas music on hold. I don’t think “O Holy Night” was really meant to be a skanking dance number. Then again, your mileage may vary.

When one of the associates finally returned to the phone, she said, obviously not really thinking straight, “You still holdin’ for health and booty?” I burst out laughing.

She started giggling and said, “Looooord, we ALL waitin’ for that!”

Amen, my friends. Amen to that.

May the season bring you all health and booty.

Lots and lots of health and booty.

If only he could have convinced the DC City Council to get him a shark with a frickin’ laser beam on its head! July 13, 2007

Posted by Merujo in DC, dopplegangers, silliness.
3 comments

Who knew? Former DC mayor Anthony Williams has a mini-me!



Of course, He Pingping (the world’s shortest tuxedo model, apparently) isn’t actually chillin’ with Tony in that first photo. Instead, he’s with Bao Xishun, the world’s tallest dude, somewhere in Mongolia.

But in case the former mayor decides to embark on an evil plan to hold the planet hostage for one million dollars, it’s good to know he has a matching mini minion in Mongolia. (Say that five times fast, kids. I dare ya!)


Now, I guess Tony just needs his own Mr. Bigglesworth as a mascot, and he’s set.

One million dollars. A tidy sum, indeed, Mr. Barrysworth…