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BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
With the recent upturn in temperatures, I’ve been on a quest for a reasonably priced spring jacket, something stylish but not too trendy and featuring enough pockets to serve as sort of a wearable purse. As I’m notorious for my hatred of shopping –which, along with my disdain for purse-toting, puts me in danger of having my Ladies’ Club membership revoked – I’ve been cruising the online clothing circuit. I guess you could say I’m doing a little Windows-shopping. (Ha! See what I did there?)
Because I’m just enough of a girl that I wouldn’t be caught dead in a jacket that conflicts with the rest of my ensemble, I’m looking for something in a neutral tone, preferably on the lighter end of the brown spectrum. One would think this would be a relatively simple search. One would be grossly mistaken.
What I found was a baffling array of choices – none of them accompanied by examples – like Chamois, Flax, String, Oakleaf and Pearl Bisque. (String?! Really?) Whatever happened to good ol’ lower-case khaki, beige or just plain tan?! Now, I understand trying to make colors more attractive-sounding, and I can figure out what Sand, Camel, Toast and Café-Au-Lait look like, but Praline Cream, Barley, Oatmeal and Biscuit?
Distracted by these undecipherable names (and a sudden craving for breakfast food), I forgot about shopping and got lost in a sea of Delicacy and Fatigue – not states of mind, but colors in the Chico’s catalog. Another site offers items in the color of Mud, which is about as clear as … well, its name, since one puddle of wet dirt can look different from the next.
Silly me, I always thought brown just came in light, medium and dark, but apparently, it also can be Havana, Aztec, Cordial, Hacienda and California Gold, the last of which I’m pretty sure is an illegal substance.
Seriously, I get it. I realize manufacturers can’t call ‘em as they see ‘em because who’d want to buy anything offered in Jaundice, Gaping Head Wound Red or Strained-Carrot Baby Barf? And I shouldn’t complain because it could be worse. Though I have no idea what Plumbago, Slurple and Haze look like, I’d be more likely to put them on my body than such Tudor-Era shades as Dead Spaniard, Goose-Turd and Blod (I don’t even want to know).
I did enjoy the color wordplay on an automotive website – Anti-Establish Mint, Last Stand Custard, There She Blue – and was thankful to find no cars offered in Gang Green, Salmon ‘Nilla or Pierced Navel Orange. (Though I AM lobbying for I Cannot Tell A Lilac.)
Paint-job possibilities aside, this catchy-naming trend has gotten out of control. What’s the world coming to when there’s a selection of more than a dozen names for what most of us know as black? I give up. Until someone invents a color decoder ring, I’m sticking to Fisher-Price products, where the colors come in primary red, blue and yellow.
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Recently, I saw Tim Burton’s through-a-looking-glass-darkly interpretation of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland,” which even the dimmest single-celled organism knows has raked in about a gajillion dollars since it opened in theaters on March 5.
Though a bit more brightly landscaped than much of his previous work and shot in 2D-converted-to-3D, “Alice” is typical Burton fare: Surreal, whimsically absurdist, artfully cartoonish, and featuring the nepotistic casting of wife Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp, godfather of the Carter-Burtons’ son. (Personal opinion: Adding a third dimension did little to enhance an already visually spectacular film, and I’m not just saying that because my poor depth perception makes 3D movies look like the fuzz on a hookah-smoking caterpillar.)
Some literary purists are all in a dither about Burton taking liberties with the original fairy tale – Corporate negotiations! An action scene with Alice in chain mail! – but many are becoming curiouser and curiouser about the director’s wonky re-imagining.
Most people know the story of Alice falling down the rabbit hole, but how many stop to ponder just HOW twisted a tale this is transmit to tots? “Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,” while written to entertain a preteen friend of Carroll’s, is a strange and hostile-bordering-on-sadistic narrative that’s just as appealing to adults as it is with children.
Adults’ fascination with “Alice,” proven by countless analyses of the story’s psychological underpinnings, prompted me to wonder why Hollywood doesn’t simply make fairy tales for the NC-17 crowd?
To that end, here are some suggestions for fairy tales and nursery rhymes I’d like to see adapted for the big and/or small screen:
* “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: A Study in Polygamy”
* “Narcoleptic Beauty”
* “Free-Range Chicken Little”
* “Addicted to Rogaine: The Rapunzel Story”
* “The Incontinent Duckling”
* “Mrs. Pumpkin Eater, Desperate Housewife”
* “The Tortoise and the Hare's Not-So-Amazing Race”
* “How I Met Your Mother Hubbard”
* “Two and a Half Men in a Tub”
* “Simple Simon Cowell”
* “The Emperor's New Clothes, Portrait of a Metrosexual”
* “Ring Around the Rosie O'Donnell”
* “Jack and Jill Plus Eight”
* “Beauty and the Beast 3: She’s REALLY Out of My League”
* “The Three Little Pigs in a Blanket with a Side of Hash Browns”
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
In the decade or so since Al Gore invented the Internet (just kidding – everyone knows it’s a surveillance device created by a superior alien species to observe us earthlings), it seems like the same 50 emails have been making the rounds. You know the ones – heart-tugging tales of missing/sick children; virus alerts, occasionally real but usually hoaxes; horror stories of people contracting the latest epidemic from a gas pump or pay phone – and so on and so on.
I’ve lost count of how many emails I’ve gotten notifying me that it’s National Friendship Day/Week/Month, but apparently, this “holiday” falls numerous times a year. And if there were any truth to the one about Microsoft sending x-number of dollars to everyone who forwards a particular email, Bill Gates would owe me $8,274.28.
But occasionally, I receive recycled email I don’t mind reading for the 923rd time, particularly “Questions That Make You Go ‘Hmmm.’” These oft-reprised lists feature thought-provoking inquiries like, “If the No. 2 pencil is the most popular, why is it still No. 2?” and “If the police arrest a mime, do they tell him he has the right to remain silent?”
In an effort to start a new email circulation craze, I’m submitting this selection of speculative stumpers. Feel free to pay ‘em forward:
* Why does bottled water have an expiration date?
* If a book about failure is bought by a million people, does that make it a success?
* Why don't we ever hear about people being gruntled or combobulated?
* If my car’s out of whack, is it “in whack” once it’s fixed?
* Why are coffin lids nailed shut?
* Why is it you never hear good-looking people say that beauty is only skin-deep?
* Can poisonous snakes poison each other?
* Why doesn't “added bonus” mean you get two bonuses?
* Why does Allstate insurance's disclaimer say “not available in all states”?
* Why does the LONE Ranger have a sidekick?
* If Yankee Doodle stuck a feather in his hat and called in “macaroni,” what did he call actual macaroni?
* If the Easter Bunny brings eggs, why don't chickens lay Peeps?
* Why do we tell kids not to take candy from strangers, but take them trick-or-treating?
* How come we say, “Heads up!” when we're warning someone to duck?
* Do English people eat American muffins?
* Why do “uphill battle” and “it was all downhill from there” both mean things are tough?
* Why doesn't Winnie the Pooh just get a “hunny” jar with a bigger opening?
* Speaking of honey, why does it come in plastic bears instead of plastic bees?
* Why aren't male ballet dancers called ballerinos?
* How can a mail-order item be labeled “free” if you have to pay shipping and handling?
* Is there an exception to the rule that there's an exception to every rule?
And finally, a conjectural query from the late George Carlin that would render this list non-existent if it had an answer: “What if there were no hypothetical questions?”
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Perhaps it’s the arctic weather or maybe I’m going through a midlife masochistic phase, but for the past couple of months, I’ve had an insatiable appetite for hot wings. Now normally, I’m a wimpy-palated mild wings gal – anything spicier is a belly bomb with a very short fuse – but such is my newfound fervor that even the pleasantly piquant punch of medium wings makes taste buds scoff derisively.
So I set out to find the towering inferno of hot wing recipes and in doing so, stumbled upon a shindig that takes place the first weekend in Albuquerque called the National Fiery Foods & Barbecue Show (http://www.fiery-foods.com). After perusing a dossier of dishes that sounded more like a punk band lineup – Scorned Woman, Widow Maker and Hot … er, “female dog” at the Beach, among others – I decided maybe I don’t have a Teflon tongue after all.
Wondering just what other questionable concoctions people are willing to toss down their gullets, I turned my deep-fried dreams into a fest quest, a foray to find freaky food fiestas across the country. What I discovered was … well, let’s just say that if the adage, “You are what you eat,” is true, the folks who frequent these far-out festivals are buggy, gritty and just plain nuts.
Here’s a smorgasbord of strange snack celebrations sure to surprise, shock, satisfy … or sicken:
Rattlesnake Round-Up – Sweetwater, Texas
http://www.rattlesnakeroundup.net
March 11-14
The dish du jour is fried Western Diamondback rattlesnake, which I hear has a real bite to it. Events include the Miss Snake Charmer Pageant, snake-handling shows and a snake meat-eating contest, which I’ll bet is hiss-terical to watch.
The World Grits Festival – April 16-18, St. George, S.C.
http://www.worldgritsfestival.com
Inspired by the 1985 discovery that the residents of St. George consumed more grits per capita than any other place in the world, the fest is highlighted by a rolling-in the-grits contest. I reckon that’s one way to sow your wild oats.
SPAM Jam – April 24, Waikiki, Hawaii
http://www.spamjamhawaii.com
A yearly block party so big it shuts down the city’s main drag, SPAM Jam has spawned such creative cuisine as SPAM Cabbage and Garlic Spaghettine, SPAM Nachos and Guava Mango BBQ SPAM Sliders. Personally, I’d rather sacrifice the canned, jellied meat (it IS meat, right?) to the volcano gods.
RoadKill Cook-off – Sept. 25, Marlinton, W.Va.
http://www.pccocwv.com/festival.htm
Dishes don’t have to be made from actual roadkill, they’re merely required to include critters commonly found dead on the side of the road as their main ingredient. There’s also the crowning of Miss WV Roadkill, who I hear was so nervous last year, she froze like a deer in headlights.
Bugfest – Sept. 25, Raleigh, N.C.
http://www.bugfest.org
You can literally rustle up some grub(s) at Bugfest, where the delicacies include Ant-Chiladas and chocolate chirp cookies made with crickets.
Turkey Testicle Festival – Near Thanksgiving, Huntley, Ill.
http://www.huntleyturkeytesticlefestival.com
As if Tom Turkey didn’t have enough to worry about. I’ll stick to the parts of the bird that flap or trot, thank you!
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
(SAYS ‘I LOVE YOU’ ALL YEAR ROUND)
Valentine’s Day … oh, the images those two words evoke! Lovers gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes, heart-shaped boxes brimming with chocolaty goodness, long-stemmed roses and the trill of love in the air!
For some, however, ‘tis a day of dread, a reminder that the only person gazing in their eyes is the one in the mirror as they mourn a lost or not-yet-found love. Cheer up, mopey - being single on Valentine's Day isn't the end of the world. If it were, Cupid would have fallen on his own arrow by now!
For those single by choice, it’s like Independence Day, a celebration of the freedom to gaze openly at whomever they want without having to sleep on the couch later! For those who view marriage as an institution to which they never want to be committed, it’s apt that Valentine’s Day is named after a guy who was imprisoned and sentenced to death.
Whatever their reasons for being uncoupled, singletons have one thing in common: Being overlooked on Valentine’s Day, even on the airwaves, where they’re subjected to Lionel Richie promising his endless love and Sting vowing, in stalker fashion, that every breath you take, he’ll be watching you.
Paul McCartney had it all wrong – some people HAVE had enough of silly love songs. If you fall into that category, here’s a bouquet of lovelorn laments and caustic kiss-offs for your commiseration or celebration:
1. “All I Want From You (Is Away)” – Loretta Lynn
2. “Anti Love Song” – Lenny Kravitz
3. “Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)” - Mötley Crüe
4. “Flushed from the Bathroom of Your Heart” - Johnny Cash
5. “Get Your Tongue Outta My Mouth ('Cause I'm Kissing You Goodbye)” - Ray Stevens
6. “Hate Everything About You” - Ugly Kid Joe
7. “Have a Nice Rest of Your Life” – Randy Travis
8. “Heartbreak Hotel” - Elvis Presley
9. “I Don’t Want You Back” – Eamon (Explicit lyrics)
10. “If The Phone Don't Ring, It's Me” - Jimmy Buffett
11. “If You Can't Live Without Me, Why Aren't You Dead Yet?” - Mayday Parade
12. “I’m Gonna Forget About You” – Sam Cooke
13. “Kiss This” - Aaron Tippin
14. “Love Bites – Def Leppard
15. “Love Don't Live Here Anymore” - Rose Royce
16. “Love is a Losing Game – Amy Winehouse
17. “Love Stinks” - J. Geils Band
18. “Not Tonight (I Have a Heartache)” - George Thorogood
19. “Since You've Been Gone” - Weird Al Yankovic (“It couldn't hurt any more if you shoved a red-hot cactus up my nose!”)
20. “Sleeping Single in a Double Bed” - Barbara Mandrell
21. “Song For the Dumped” - Ben Folds Five
22. “Tainted Love” - Soft Cell
23. “Take Your Love and Shove it”- Joe Pesci (Yes, THAT Joe Pesci.)
24. “Thank God and Greyhound She's Gone” - Roy Clark
25. “The Last Word in Lonesome is Me” - Roger Miller
26. “What Part of ‘No’ Don't You Understand?” - Lorrie Morgan
27. “Where Did Our Love Go? ” – The Supremes
28. “Without You” - Nilsson
29. “You Hurt Me (And I Hate You)” – Eurythmics
30. “You've Lost That Loving Feeling” - Righteous Brothers
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
Bill Cosby said it in 2004: “People with their hat on backwards, pants down around the crack. Isn’t that a sign of something or are you waiting for Jesus to pull his pants up?”
Four years later, then-presidential candidate Barack Obama put it in more straightforward terms: “Brothers should pull up their pants. You are walking by your mother, your grandmother, your underwear is showing. What’s wrong with that? Come on.”
On Jan. 13, “General” Larry Platt turned the admonishment into a chant: “Pants on the ground, pants on the ground, lookin’ like a fool with your pants on the ground!” Many laughed at the 62-year-old civil rights and community activist’s audition on “American Idol,” but the response he is getting is no joke.
“Pants on the Ground,” a rhythmic, atonal fashion critique, has already spawned several cover versions and is being called the Internet's first viral hit of the new decade. Simon Cowell may not have given Platt the green light, but in less than a week, more than 2 million Facebook and YouTube fans certainly did.
Now it’s my turn to throw my hat in the ring with a ditty of my own. Set to the tune of the children’s song “Do Your Ears Hang Low?” – more recently popularized by Young Jibbs’ as “Does Your Chain Hang Low?” – I give you, “Do Your Pants Hang Low?”
Do your pants hang low?
Do they let your undies show?
Do they make you trip and fall?
Do they make you shuffle slow?
Can you throw 'em o'er your back
Like a giant knapsack?
Do your pants hang low?
Do your pants hang loose?
Do they expose your caboose?
Can you tie 'em in a knot?
Can you tie 'em in a noose?
If you tuck 'em in your boots
Will they float like parachutes?
Do your pants hang loose?
Do your pants hang down?
Make you look like such a clown?
Is your backside bared
Like a sideways frown?
With one hand you grope
Lookin' like a major dope
Do your pants hang down?
Do your blue jeans sag?
All along the floor they drag
Do they flap in the wind?
Can you fly 'em like a flag?
With your pants below your waist
You're the picture of bad taste!
Do your blue jeans sag?
Are your slacks too slack?
Too revealing in the back?
Do you give new meaning to
SAY "NO" TO CRACK?
Do you even own a belt
Leather, cloth or made of felt?
Are your slacks too slack?
Pull your pants up, please!
Stop 'em flappin' in the breeze!
Do you think you're really cool
Showing off your BVD's?
No one wants to be privy
To the sight of your new skivvies
Pull your pants up, please!
BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL
As the clock struck midnight two weeks ago, legions of self-improvers crushed out their last smokes, took a final swig of champagne, and with gimlet-eyed determination, resolved to leave their vices behind. Others pledged to lose weight, spend more time with loved ones, get out of debt, and made countless other resolutions to upgrade themselves to New And Improved Human 2.0.
Not this girl. As I lay on my sofa, eating chips, watching the ball drop in Times Square on the big-screen television Santa (translation: my mom) gave me, and texting a friend who was laying on her sofa, eating chips and vicariously partying in Times Square with me, I resolved to do three things: Grab a blanket, snag some salsa for my chips, and channel-surf.
I kept my resolutions, but I know several people who have torn their vows asunder just 15 days into the new year. The secret to my success? Anti-resolutions. By declaring the endeavors I refuse to undertake in the next 12 months (unless doctor- or court-ordered), I’m guaranteed victory. So, in 2010, I resolve NOT to:
* Quit drinking. I don’t drink that much to begin with, so what's a glass or two? Every half hour. And the glass is shaped like a bottle.
* Quit smoking. Nobody likes a quitter and besides, I'm good at it. So don't be surprised if you see me simultaneously smoking a cigarette, a cigar and a ham or two.
* Tell the truth about my age. Actually, I plan to say I'm older than I am, so people will gush, "Wow, you look great!"
* Floss more. I already do it religiously – every Easter and Christmas.
* Watch any movie described by friends and/or family as "hilarious, the funniest thing I've ever seen!" I'm talking to you, "The Hangover." You were sporadically chuckle-worthy (just my opinion), but I laughed harder at the Portuguese translation of your title: "When You Drink, Don't Get Married."
* Spend an entire Saturday in my pj’s in front of the computer. After all, that new big-screen TV ain’t gonna watch itself.
* Keep using the same lame excuses for missing work, skipping the weddings of people I don't want to buy gifts, forgetting birthdays, etc. Instead, I'll think of new excuses.
* Be put on hold. When the person on the other end of the phone asks, "Will you hold, please?" he/she is clearly stating that I have a choice in the matter.
And since we're talking about phone etiquette, I resolve never again to sit through windy telemarketers' sales pitches, unable to get a word in edgewise, only to tell them in the end, "Thanks, not interested." Henceforth, I will interrupt the hucksters mid-spiel and ask for THEIR numbers so I can call back when it's most inconvenient for THEM.
Some of these resolutions are in jest; others are as serious as a German film festival. My philosophy is: Why write about stuff I'm going to do, then not do it when I can do stuff, then write about it?
