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BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Thanksgiving is less than three weeks away and I’m already dreading the weeks of leftover turkey. I’m not just talking about resurrecting the remnants as sandwiches, casseroles, soups and salads.
No, in years past, I’ve gotten so creative in my attempts to disguise the remains of the day that I’m pretty much to turkey what Bubba of “Forrest Gump” is to shrimp. There’s turkey lasagna, turkey quesadillas, turkey jerky tacos, chili con turkey, turkey kabobs, turkey gumbo, pan-fried turkey, deep-fried turkey, stir-fried turkey, pineapple turkey, lemon turkey, coconut turkey, pepper tur … well, you get the point.
This year, I’m heading Tom Turkey off at the pass, before he even makes his way to Thanksgiving dinner. Unfortunately, I probably won’t reach Farmer Brown before he swings the ax – or whatever undoubtedly gross and gory manner in which the bird is dispatched. Hey, turkey, I don’t know your life; I was almost 10 years old when I learned that you weren’t raised in shrink-wrapped Styrofoam at the deli counter.
Anyway, in the event that I arrive to find ol’ Tom already gone to that Great Turkey Shoot in the Sky, I’ll still honor his remains, just not at my table. Join me in flipping the bird into something new and unusual by consulting my Top 20 Uses for a Dead Turkey:
20. Fancy-schmancy mop … take that, Swiffer!
19. Not-very-effective pool floatie
18. Handy, dandy back-scratcher
17. Makeshift marshmallow roaster
16. Modern-art table lamp
15. When placed at the base of a door, makes a festive draft-blocker
14. New-fangled bagpipes
13. Decorative candlestick
12. Tetherball, anyone?
11. Louisville Gobbler baseball bat
10. High-fashion, hipster headwear that’ll make all those coonskin
cap-wearing dweebs go greener than a seasick leprechaun
9. A couple of snips, throw in a zip and voila! An avant-garde handbag!
8. Nifty feather duster that will give your furniture a delicious golden glaze
7. Guest co-host on "The View" to make Sherri Shepherd look like eloquent genius
6. Tie two together by their necks … instant numchucks!
5. Mullet-like toupee – feathered in the front, giblets in the back!
4. "Discover" dead turkey in your Quarter Pounder, sue the pants off Ronald McDonald.
3. Très chic replacements for those tacky pink flamingos in your front yard
2. Four words: Dead Turkey Puppet Theatre!
And last, but certainly not least:
1. Isn't it about time fruitcake had some meat in it?
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
In the wake of my last column, a friend took umbrage at my inclusion of "It is what it is" in a list of words and phrases that should be banned from the English language. "Some things defy explanation," she said, in defense of the aforementioned term. One need only to look at the phenomena of Kim Kardashian’s fame and women attracted to Jon Gosselin to know that this is true.
When I declared a moratorium on "It is what it is," perhaps I should have noted that I am as guilty as the next gal of spouting that throwaway phrase now and again on those occasions when my vocabulary is feeling not-so-fresh. In fact, were I to do away with my own stock of oft-uttered expressions, this column would be little more than a handy space for doodling. What one linguist calls overused and irritating, I call "the cornerstones of my biweekly babbling."
So, in the name of increasing my word power, I hereby vow to (make a halfhearted attempt to) abstain from (or at least slightly reduce) the use of the following terminology (except when I really and truly need to):
* "Meh" – It’s less obnoxious than the ubiquitous teenspeak staple, "Whatever," and nicer than, "Your opinion is as meaningless as Kim Kardashian."
* "PWNED" – Derived from "owned," meaning to conquer, it should only be used if you are 12 years old and playing Halo online while wearing headgear and watching "Naruto."
* "Full of win" – Victorious, excellent or otherwise superlative. Example: "Stephenie Meyer’s ‘Twilight’ series is full of win." In addition to being blatantly false, saying this will make you sound like you’re full of something else.
* "Conversate" – Please orientate yourself with a dictionary so you can learn that the proper way to pronunciate this word is "converse."
* "Not so much" – And yet it’s uttered TOO much.
* "Cool beans" – This is ranks up there with "the bee’s knees," "the cat’s meow/pajamas" and "easy peasy lemon squeezy" on the list of Things You Should Not Say Unless You’re Old Enough To Tell Stories About The Depression.
* "Carbon footprint" – Mine’s a size 5, so how environmentally destructive could it be? Kim Kardashian’s buttprint, on the other hand …
* "Weak sauce" – That’s enough, Guy-Dude-Bro.
* Combined celebrity names – Brangelina, TomKat and Bennifer are bad enough, but if this asinine amalgamation continues, we could end up with Madonna + Simon Cowell = MadCow.
* "Pop" – As in, "That red blouse really makes your auburn highlights pop!" Save this one as slang for soda or a nickname for your dad.
And last, but certainly not least:
* "I threw up in my mouth a little" – Enough with the figurative regurgitation, people! How about upchucking this term from your lexicon? (Those suffering from acid reflux are exempt.)
If I hear this expression one more time, I swear I’m gonna gag someone with a spoon.
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Recently, “Saturday Night Live” newbie Jenny Slate commited the faux pas of uttering one of George Carlin’s “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television.” Keep in mind that the list was issued before we had eleventy-zillion cable channels where you now can hear all seven words terms and many more colorful ones that have since been coined. The expletive in question was none of the euphemisms for bodily waste or anatomical parts, or the one describing, um, an act of … uh … intimacy between … er … well, just don’t do it, OK?
This four-letter word is used as a verb, noun or adjective, often in exclamation and/or imperative form, and was deemed in the movie “A Christmas Story” as “the granddaddy of all swear words.” That’s right, Slate dropped the “eff-dash-dash-dash” bomb during the sketch “Biker Chick Chat.” Only those in the Eastern Time Zone heard the slip-up, since NBC quickly restored it to the intended “freakin’” for western zones.
Since the incident, online comments have ranged from, “People are so uptight! It’s just a word,” to “It should be banned from the English language.” Oh, if only that were possible! If I legislated lexiconography, the overused, misused and useless terminology I’d banish – if not from the language altogether, at least from common usage – would fill a dictionary.
“Cougar” tops my list. Why are women of a certain age likened to a beast of prey because they enjoy the company of younger men? If you don’t think that’s sexist, tell me the comparable term for older men who date younger women? The only one I can think of “lucky S.O.B.”
Next up: “ATM machine.” The “M” stands for machine, so unless you’re talking about the gadget that repairs an ATM, stick to the acronym or call it by its technical name: Cash spitter-outer.
Last year’s presidential campaign spawned several words and phrases I could without hearing again, like “pit bull,” “hockey mom” and “new change.” What other kind of change is there? And I don’t want to hear anyone dubbed “maverick” except James Garner, circa 1960.
I’d also outlaw:
“It is what it is” – Unless you’re Bill Clinton, in which case, it depends on what your definition of “is” is.
“(Insert noun) is the new black” – So what does that make the OLD black?
“Best-kept secret” – How well-kept is it if you’re telling me?
“Sick” as a synonym for “cool,” “amazing,” etc. – You might think you sound cool and amazing, but you’re making me sick – and that’s a synonym for “ill” and “nauseated.”
“Past history” – This redundant phrase is like repeating the same, exact thing twice.
“With all due respect” – Translation: “I don’t really respect you, so it’s fitting that I’m about to say something disrespectful.”
“Downsizing” – Dressing it up doesn't make the folks on the receiving end feel any better. Ditch this word and call it what it is - firing. Unless you’re referring to weight loss. In that case, it is what it is.
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
A reader with whom I correspond regularly has started sending me getting-to-know-you questions; I’m not sure whether to be flattered or put a restraining order on hold for future use. Is this just an average Joe/Joanne who merely enjoys my writing and wonders what makes such a twisted mind tick? Or will I wake up one morning shackled to my bed by a sledgehammer-wielding stranger who claims to be my biggest fan?
I jest. This reader has confessed to being a fan, but not in a kidnapped-and-hobbled, Kathy Bates kinda way. Her questions range from whimsical – “Would you rather fly every time you pass gas or wet your pants every time you laugh?” – to sensible – “If you went back to school, what would you study?” The beautiful thing is that I can respond however I choose – poem form or pig-Latin or straightforwardly; there are no wrong answers.
I answered her latest query, “Why did you become a writer?” with this laundry list of coulda-been professions:
* I considered becoming a ballet dancer, but I couldn't pass the barre exam.
* I tried pro golf, but my performance was below par.
* So I switched to bowling. It wasn’t up my alley.
* I worked as a dolphin trainer, but there was something fishy about my boss (an ex-Marine), so I got fired on porpoise.
* I tried being a wedding photographer, but I got tired of waiting for my prints to come.
* I studied dentistry, but I couldn't sink my teeth into it.
* I worked as a bank teller, but I didn’t have much interest.
* I went into archaeology, but I didn't dig it.
* I went into carpentry, but it board me to tears because I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.
* My tenure as a janitor wasn't a sweeping success, either.
* I wanted to join NASA's astronaut program, but the requirements were out of this world.
* I applied to be a nanny, but the job came with too many little problems.
* I tried my hand as a Las Vegas dealer, but it just wasn't in the cards.
* I got hired at a brewery and had high hops that this was my true calling, but I could barley stand it.
* I was a clerk in a cheese shop, but I was no Gouda at it, so I Bleu it off.
* I thought about applying to beauty school, but I couldn't makeup my mind and missed the deadline.
* I was a mail carrier, but thankfully, I was delivered from that post.
* I joined the police force, but I copped an attitude with the chief and he refused to give me another shot.
* I took a job as an elevator operator. It had its ups and downs.
* I toyed with the idea of being an Egyptologist, but that's ancient history.
So, with all other options exhausted, I went into journalism, where I’ve been told I have the write stuff. It hasn’t brought me fame and fortune, but it’s kept me in the headlines.
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Normally, I try to steer clear of the hot topics du jour and decomposing horses still being flogged, post-mortem. But my silence about the Jon and Kate debacle has gone on long enough. I think my sentiments would be expressed best when sung (in abbreviated form) to the tune of “American Pie,” with deepest apologies to Don McLean.
'Twas not so long ago
I can still remember
How the Gosselins used to make me smile
Residing in a modest house
Homemaker Kate and Jon, her spouse
And babies that went on for miles and miles
But as she toiled to raise her litter
Kate appeared to grow embittered
Jon seemed more aloof, yes
(Turns out he's just a doofus)
I can't recall the moment quite
When I knew divorce would be their plight
But I knew that I'd called it right
The day the marriage died
So bye-bye, to the Gosselin tribe
'Cos this season isn't pleasin'
No more can I abide
I can't watch your show or read the constant headlines
Sayin' Jon claims Kate does nothin' but whine
And Kate says Jon is out of his mind
While Kate's fans wave books to sign
And as Jon works on his clothing line
Does a nanny watch their eight?
The cash they rake in from their show
I hope they're saving up that dough
'Cos therapy's no doubt their children's fate!
Well, it's true that Kate's a control freak
And a germophobe who tends to shriek
If Jon were more laid-back
He would be comatose, in fact
Now he's a playboy bach’lor, he likes to flirt
Rides a bitchin’ bike and wears Ed Hardy shirts
But deep down, I'm sure it hurt
The day the marriage died
So now I'm sayin'
Bye-bye to the Gosselin tribe
Once your ratings were inflating
Now I'm watching them slide
Them good ol' fans are fallin' by the wayside
And waiting for your 15 minutes to die
For your 15 minutes to die
Wed for 10 years, two spent on this show
With perks that most people never know
'Cos stardom has its luxuries
First, a tummy tuck for post-natal Kate
Then some plugs for Jon-boy's balding pate
And a big Hawaii trip for free
Oh, and between hulas and luaus
The Gosselins renewed their vows
All at the network's cost
(Jon had his fingers crossed!)
So it seems this show has jumped the shark
Turn it off and put the gear in park
It's time this program fades to dark
And let the madness die
So I'm singin'
Bye-bye to the Gosselin tribe:
Mady, Cara, Hannah, Collin
Alexis, Leah, Aaden and Joel
I pray someday a normal life you will know
Once they pack up all the cameras and go
Pack up all the cameras and go!
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
In the past few weeks, one of Google’s top searches has been “Kelly Clarkson SELF Magazine” or some variation thereof, as fans and readers seek the skinny on the singer’s recent dramatic weight loss.
Examining Clarkson from head to toe on SELF’s September cover, they marvel at her newly svelte figure, which she must’ve attained overnight, since photos from earlier this month show a more buxom, curvy lass.
How’d she do it? Walking and Weight Watchers? Pilates and prune juice? Jogging and Jenny? Did she have that surgery where they reroute your stomach like I-75, only the traffic flows more smoothly and exits faster? None of the above.
The secret to Clarkson’s slenderness is SUCH a secret that she wasn’t even in on it. You see, the folks at SELF decided, in their quest for “the photo (that) is the truest we have ever put out there on the newsstand” – quoth editor-in-chief Lucy Danziger – that Clarkson would look her “truest” minus at least 20 pounds. So they downsized Rubenesque hips, tapered sturdy thighs and streamlined what some call “junk in the trunk” – heck, they all but altered her DNA – to the point that many readers didn’t recognize her.
This is an entertainment column, so I don’t want to get too heavy, but I can’t overlook the hypocrisy and irony in SELF’s “retouching” (as Danziger calls it) the physical appearance of a celebrity who spends part of the interview discussing body confidence. “When people talk about my weight, I'm like, ‘You seem to have a problem with it; I don't. I'm fine!’” Clarkson said.
It’s the singer’s self-assuredness that Danziger claims led SELF to revamp the photo. (Yeah, I don’t get it, either.) On TV talk shows and on her blog,* the editor lamely attempts to explain away the decision, stating, “We correct color and other aspects of the digital pictures … then publish the best version we can.” Apparently, “color” is SELF-speak for “dress size.”
Showing a flair for double-talk, Danziger writes that Clarkson “is happy in her own skin … (w)hether she is up or down in pounds is irrelevant.” (Except on the cover of SELF, that is.) Danziger also trumpets her own body confidence, but contradicts herself in the same paragraph with a story about once “retouching” a photo of herself because her hips looked too big. “I was heavier then,” she notes, adding that today, she would let the aforementioned photo run unaltered. Hmm. Very telling, indeed.
Danziger might be fooling herself, but she hasn’t conned the numerous readers from whom she’s received a heft of responses tipping the scales in Clarkson’s favor. The words “cancel” and “subscription” appear frequently, as do “I hope” and “you lose your job.”
Through thick and thin, one thing remains constant about Clarkson: Girlfriend’s got pipes – and not just when she’s singing. I’ve read enough interviews to know she’s not shy about addressing what others think of her physique. I’d be very interested to hear her weigh in on this matter.
* Read Danzinger's followup to the reader backlash here.
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
The centuries-old nursery rhymes we continue to teach kids had little relevance in our own lives, so imagine how cuckoo-bananas these fantastical verses must sound to today’s more world-savvy youngsters.
In an age when Old McDonald’s farm is in foreclosure, Little Boy Blue is blowing his horn on YouTube, and tuffets have been replaced by ergonomically designed game chairs with head rest speakers and built-in subwoofers, Simon ain’t so simple anymore.
The dish isn’t just running away with the spoon; it’s eloping to Vegas with a TV camera crew in tow. Rock-a-bye your baby in the treetop and you can expect a visit from Child Protective Services. Jack and Jill? They’re not walking up the hill to fetch a pail of water; they’re footing it because gas is too expensive!
During more innocent times, we blithely accepted such notions as a cow jumping over the moon, four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie, and Peter Peter locking the missus away in a pumpkin shell. What else was a man who couldn’t keep a wife to do? But if the children in my life are any indication, modern-day munchkins don’t accept these concepts without question.
Mother Goose might have been spittin’ dope rhymes back in the day, but in 2009, her flow is tired – or as the whippersnappers say, “Weak sauce.”
It’s time for Mama G to kick some lyrics the shorties can understand. For instance, instead of asking Brother John if he’s sleeping, it’d be more timely to inquire: “What’s that beeping, what’s that beeping/John, my bro? John, my bro?/Is your iPhone ringing, is your iPhone ringing?/Let it go, let it go.” To voice mail, that is.
If nursery rhymes got with the times, children’s books might read something like this:
“No raining, no pouring/Oh, no - it's global warming!”
“Mary had a little lamb/Till Daddy lost his job/Now Lambie's on the table with/Some nice corn on the cob.”
“Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie/Kissed the girls and made them cry/Now to his great embarrassment/He's charged with sexual harassment.”
“Jack Sprat could eat no fat/No deep-fried foods at all/Because his wife's concerned about/His bad cholesterol.”
“Little Jack Horner/Sat in a corner/Playing his brand-new Wii/He's sprained both his thumbs/His brain has gone numb/And his weight’s multiplied by three.”
“Jack be nimble, Jack be quick/You've got no insurance, so don't get sick!”
“To market, to market, to buy me some bling/Home again wearing a gold chain and ring.”
“There was a young woman who lived in a condo/She had many kids and a husband named Jon, so/She signed a big contract and next thing you know/It's ‘Lights, camera, action!’ Their own TV show!”
