Long Live Christina!

The 2011 Super Bowl XLV’s entertainment staff sought out Christina Aguilera to sing the National Anthem. An EXCELLENT choice. This woman has been my idol ever since I first heard her sing. She has control over her voice like no one else on the planet. I was thoroughly excited to watch her perform. She marched up to the mike and began. Her voice was immaculate and phenomenal- as always. She did, however, mess up a few lyrics here and there. Yes, it may have been to our country’s national anthem, but so what? She was singing live in front of thousands, not to mention the millions watching her on T.V.. So she got a little nervous. Is that a crime? The girl is talented out the ass. I would probably literally KILL to have her voice. And she messes up one little bit this one time and EVERYONE is on her about it.

 “Come on, Christina. The National Anthem? Really?” they all say. I say she could have done the whole thing in Pig-Latin and I would have still been blown away by her voice. Perhaps it is just the fact that I, being a fellow singer with hopes to become as wonderful as she is, truly appreciate her gift and understand how incredible she is.

It is time for people to see past the humanistic error that she made and not verbally murder her about it. Because the truth really is that she is the best. The best of everyone. And she is human. That alone gives me hope that I may someday be like her. And we ALL screw up royally a few times in our life- we can’t help it. It’s in our DNA. But the difference is that SHE has taken her talent to the highest of levels and she should be celebrated for doing so. Not punished for being just like you. (and by you, I mean the ass-holes who think that they would never make the same mistake if put in her position. I for one would LOVE to see you try.)

The Real Situation

Bam- you’re dead. No, you weren’t shot in the heart with a ’97 revolver. And no, you certainly didn’t drown to death. And there is absolutely no way that you had an unknown brain tumor. You could only wish that you were hit in a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler. And you can forget about old age. So how did you die? You died from the modern-day epidemic of secondhand smoke.

Smokers used to be portrayed as sexy, social gods and goddesses of society. This was back when smoking was in its early days- when schools had smoker’s lounges for children. Everyone who was anyone smoked. That was until 1964, when the surgeon general announced that smoking was found to cause lung cancer and heart disease. But by then, so many people smoked, that no one really paid any attention to statistics. That’s when advertising changed- they started to portray smokers as ugly, yellow-teethed, smelly, and deformed. People now suddenly had a visual aid to accompany the statistics; so naturally, they started to get the picture. It wasn’t until a few years after that when some smarty-pants scientist said “hey, I wonder if cigarette smoke is bad for non-smokers too?” Tah-dah. It is. Or at least that’s what the studies show. You see, cigarette smoke carries carcinogens (a fancy term for cancer-causing molecules) that once inhaled into the body, begin to mutilate your body’s cells into cancer. From then on, you’re pretty much screwed.

So how do you inhale this cigarette smoke? You get trapped in the confines of a building with an idiot who has a nasty smoking habit. The air molecules exhaled by the smoker will inevitably make their way over to your lungs. You can’t avoid it. You can’t dodge these molecules with ninja moves. You definitely can’t pull a Moses and part the sea of carcinogens so that your path is cancer-free. You are trapped and unarmed. You are helpless. You are staring death in the face and you are alone. Terribly alone. The best thing to do at this point is of course to book it towards the nearest exit- sweet freedom- but hold your breath till you get there. And while you are outside, breathing in the gusts of cool, February, smoke-free air, review the facts in your head: You are not a smoker. You don’t want to die from secondhand smoke or worse- live but get a deformity-causing disease. Wait- now you are starting to get REALLY angry. I mean, you are STEAMED. How can this low-life take control of your life like this? It’s not fair to be subjected to the consequences of his bad choice. And this, my friends, is why smoking should be banned. Because you went home that night with a terrible cough. You sat down in your favorite chair with your bag of Tostitos and chili con queso and watched the episode of The Office that’s been on your DVR for the past week. You stared drooling at the screen like a brainless freak while the cancerous cells were developing in your lungs. You fell asleep never to wake up again. You died from secondhand smoke.

Aren’t you glad I informed you before it was your actual reality? You know exactly how you could die. Next time you walk into your favorite restaurant and are asked “smoking or non-smoking?,” just leave. Get out of there. Because secondhand smoke is always on the horizon. Secondhand smoke WILL find YOU.

Don't Settle, Ladies.

Chace Crawford, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Johnny Depp, and Orlando Bloom all have something in common- they all have the ability to make girls go weak at the knees. You see, these men embody something of a godly-stature; perfection. Not only do they look as if they have been chipped from marble, but the way these man live and who they are is something women of all corners of the globe drool over. These men are considered to be the elite of the male race; the Ideal Men. These men are gods, thus, unattainable. Women are forced to seek a life partner in a different kind of man; the Available Man. The differences between these two beings are almost enough to make a person wonder if they are even from the same species (If you bear with the grotesque imagery I am about to present in the following paragraphs, I swear there will be a reward.)

                The available man. Please do not get this confused with “all men that you know” because some of those men are taken. The fact that they are “unavailable” does not necessarily mean that they are ideal, so I guess we will just put them in a third category; the Taken Men. The men that are considered “available” are the ones who are currently unattached and will be for some time to come (none of those men who break up with their same girlfriend every other week. Those men are technically “Taken.”) This leaves us with a very distinct group of males who have a generally sad look about them, and usually, a generally unpleasant odor. Men like this have an appearance that might make babies cry and all those who pass by cringe. But don’t worry. I’m sure they get plenty of affection from their mothers. I never quite got that. Moms may just have a thing for balding-scalp-comb-overs paired with grease-stained wife-beaters constricting a beer-belly. Who knows? Let’s not forget about the adorable way tuffs of back and chest hair seem to find daylight in any way they can. And those thin, crusty lips look way better with mom’s lipstick smeared over them after a goodnight kiss, after which the Available Man descends the basement stairs and, subsequent to playing a few rounds of online Battle Star Galaxy Wars III, trudges over to the paisley couch and calls it a night. Yep, moms just can’t get enough.

                All I can say is thank sweet baby Jesus for letting the women of this earth have some eye-candy. What would we do without being able to stare at Teen Vogue’s posters of men like Jesse McCartney and Usher? Those eyes are enough for a girl to melt in. We dream about those bright eyes staring back at us with an essence of longing and passion. How we fondly picture ourselves feeling secure in the arms exploding with muscle, his chiseled body next to our soft one. And when he smiles, his 26 brighter-than-pearls teeth are wonderfully aligned. His skin is sun-kissed brilliantly and his posture is confident and approachable. We want nothing more than to admire the symmetrical features of his figure- our eyes dilating when we look upon the attractive contours. Ah, what a gift.

                The Available man has his own ideas when it comes to appearance. It can be summed up in one word; comfortable. Actually, this is his motto for many of the things in his life, including his job. He bags grocery’s at the local Convenience Mart. He originally applied here for the 25% discount on all food, but he stayed for the 8 dollars-an-hour paycheck with little benefits. It was the best he could do with no college education behind him and no true ambition other than successfully completing his 3000 piece Limited Edition Star Wars puzzle. Hey, at least he gets to meet new people. The 30 second conversations he has with people in the check-out line may be as close as it comes to friendship, though. Well, I lied; his mom has been and will always be his best friend forever.

                The ideal man, backed with a college degree and a promising desire to be the best, landed a job in a multi-billion dollar industry. He has his own office on the 300^th floor with a window overlooking the other towering skyscrapers around him. His boss loves him and so does everyone he works with. He meets with clients all over the world; Italy, India, Canada, Australia, and England. On his business trips, he usually will take his lady with him, staying at a 5-star hotels and eating at the most extravagant restaurants. There is nothing standing between him and his goals.

                Don’t get me wrong, the Available Man has some shining personality traits and talents. For example, he is passionate… about his action figures. Oh, and he can cook… ramen noodles. And he is really nice… as long as you don’t eat any of his food. He will do anything to help someone… as long as there is pie involved. On your first date, after you met on eHarmony and discover he used someone else’s picture, he will buy you the most expensive thing on the menu… at McDonalds. Hey, it’s enough for mommy dearest.

                The ideal man has perfected everything us women like; chivalry, affection, politeness, and class. Don’t be alarmed if you get an unexpected bouquet of roses “just because.” He feels that little things along the journey of a relationship matter, too. You will also never have to open a door while this man is on your arm- he’s been opening doors for women since he was able. Never will you see him belching in public or being rude to you while around his friends. He lives to please you and told your parents so on the night he cooked dinner for everyone at their house. He makes the best Italian food.

                Really, it’s a matter of who you want to be with and who you will be with because you don’t want to be alone. Women go through this dilemma everyday and decide to settle for what is convenient. Well, next time you are sitting across the table from Mr. Not-So-Handsome, get up and find the nearest picture of Mr. Perfect and pretend you are with him. You may seem insane to those around you, but believe me, you are actually saving your sanity. To those of us who will eventually be stuck with one of these “Available Men” – good luck (the alternate path you could take is to become the old cat lady- my personal choice.) And as for you lucky few out there- the pretty models and foreign hotties that these “Ideal Men” seek out and treasure forever- just know that every other girl on the planet hates you and you can go to hell.

Going to Wal-Mart Has Nearly Become a Death Sentence

Everyone has been to a Wal-Mart at some point in their life. It has a reputation for being the “go-to” place for just about any object known to mankind. Well, even if you can’t find the exact object, you can find similar objects that you can either substitute for said object or ghetto-rig into a version of the object. Since “things” are so easy to locate here, it is only natural that everyone and their mom’s best-friend’s boyfriend’s cousin go the exact same day that you do when you need that certain item. This unfortunate experience is one many have compared to hell itself.

For this article’s purposes, let’s just say that you have just used up your last can of hairspray and you desperately need more before your date tonight. You would go to the mall, but you see that Wal-Mart has a special sale on your favorite kind. And so the first phase begins- the Trap has been set. They lure you in with their every day low prices that are enough to make you wet your pants with the thought of how much you could save. After you decide that you are not stupid enough to pass that low price up, you get in your car and proceed to the nearest Wal-Mart.

Phase two begins about three miles away from the store- the Battle Field. Suddenly, you are surrounded by cars with women going to pick their last-minute canned cheese for their dinner-party and men getting their baby’s surplus-size pack of diapers before their wife gets home and sees that they have used the same one for a whole day. You grip the wheel tighter as you approach the store, seeing the hunger in the eyes of the drivers around you. You anticipate a show down.

You manage to survive getting to the parking lot with only minor forearm cramps from the steering wheel and a little indigestion from the adrenalin of the race. Your jaw hits your lap as you see that the parking lot is completely full. You grumble to yourself, hoping that you will find a spot if you drive around long enough. But don’t drive too fast, or you will make road-kill out of the brainless pedestrians who are zombie-walking into the store.

            A half-tank of gas later, you spot it. An empty space. Of course, it is the last space on the furthest row from the entrance, but it’s a spot. You shift into third gear as you speed towards the beacon of hope- the last spot possibly in existence. You soon become aware that you are not alone in your charge- 17 minivans appear seemingly out of nowhere and go full force to your destination. Those soccer-moms don’t joke around when it comes to Wal-Mart. With one last exertion of fearlessness, you pull a jousting move and run the rest of the cars off of the road, leaving the spot to you. Success.

            After you lock the door, you begin your journey to the doors. About halfway there, you begin to wonder if you should have brought a nap-sack for the journey so that you could split the distance between two days. Remembering your date, you muster on. As you walk, you begin to notice all the spots near the front entrance open up. Unsurprising. You finally reach the doors- it has been a long expedition, but you feel like a champ. Especially since you are out of breath and you endured 6 different weather changes along the way. You march into Wal-Mart with pride, beginning phase three- Extraction.

            You make your way pass the elderly greeting person who may or may not be still alive and dash straight to the hair care supplies. Of course, you must weave in and out of every person on the planet to get there. You bump into many frightening-looking people along the way, and by the time you reach the isle you need, you feel quite violated.

            You put your need for personal space behind you as you squeeze between the people and their carts hindering your path to your beloved hairspray. The obstacle course has you leaping, dodging, and at times, crawling. You shout out a series of apologies to the people whose cart you just stepped in to avoid a puddle of fresh baby vomit on the floor beside you. With one last bound, you leap from the cart and land right in front of the stock of hairspray. The Hallelujah Chorus is heard in the back of your mind and heavens light shines down on the shelf before you. Grabbing the first bottle you see, you retrace your steps back through the isle and into the hustle and bustle of the store.  

            The length of the check-out lines gave you not only a heart attack, but brain cancer and possibly AIDS with shock. You step into line, preparing for the most boring 3 hours of your life. After a good nap and a round of solo I-spy, you reach the point to where you are able to put your single can of hairspray on the conveyer belt. The woman in front of you, who has apparently set out to purchase every last can of tuna fish in the store and a 74 pack-sack of toilet paper, looks at your sole item with disgust and graciously places that little plastic brown divider between her items and yours. You stamp your foot at the overly-peppy check out person and grab your bag off of that silly bag wheel that they use after paying and begin phase 4- Retreat.

            Exiting the store, you race into the most dangerous part of your experience. This is the part where you are so giddy with your purchase that you nearly didn’t notice the angry drivers speeding full force at your fragile figure with their two-ton vehicles. You scream like a little girl once or twice as you race back to your car on the other side of the planet because you were nearly killed, but at last, you reach your car. Opening the door, you throw your bag into the passenger’s seat and you go to meet your date as fast as your little car and the speed limit allow. You fix your hair with the $2.50 bottle of hairspray along the way. You laugh to yourself, knowing that if the date doesn’t go well, that you can at least give him a Wal-Mart gift card as payback.

            The moral of this story is that Wal-Mart is only for the bravest of warriors of our time, like the soccer moms and tuna-eaters. Also, if you value personal hygiene or personal space at all, Wal-Mart is not for you. Make sure you are up to date on all of your shots and things of that nature. It is important to leave at least a 4 hour margin of extra time while planning your Wal-Mart visit, just in case. Remember to be safe and no matter how much you will want to, refrain from killing people during your trip to Wal-Mart.

Harry Potter is the Best Thing to Happen to Our Generation

Recently, an article was published in a Newsweek titled "Deathly Hollows? Try Deadly Boring." I probably wouldn't have even glanced at the page if there wasn't a picture of Rupert Grint, a red-headed actor who has played the role of Ron in all 7 of the Harry Potter movies (I have a thing for red-heads.) Anyways, the article, written by Ramin Setoodeh, is entirely centered on bashing the film editions of the fictional phenomenon that is Harry Potter. Setoodeh states that "the film itself looks like it was shot under a storm cloud." He later goes on to complain that the leads of Ron, Hermione, and Harry hardly ever crack a smile. Well, in case that he has never read the books, even though he claims he has, the story isn't exactly a heart-warming read. It tells of the struggles a trio of young wizards must undergo in effort to restore order to a corrupted world- a task that takes wisdom far beyond what they have accumulated. The odds are in every way against them. It is meant to be a dismal setting. The purpose of this is to provoke a sense of helplessness that when built to a climax, will produce a more gratifying ending. Any smart author will do anything to break away from traditional story lines as much as possible- and yes, I consider J.K. Rowling a fictional literature genius- so the fact that she makes the plot as dark and twisted as possible makes it more interesting to read.

Setoodeh notes that "you have no idea what you're watching unless you've read the books, and even then you need the Cliffs Notes." Okay- first of all, may I point out that you are a story critic and you are making "actually reading the book" seem like a giant obstacle hindering your path. Just read the damn book. Also, I would like to point out that I have no idea what Cliffs Notes are, so I assume this is an attempt at humor. Attempt failed- I cannot relate to the reference. He then states that "Potter onscreen just gives you a headache." Never once have I suffered a headache during watching Harry Potter, thus, this statement is inaccurate. In that exact same paragraph, he also makes it a point that James Bond's 22 chapters have lost the world's most successful film franchise title to Harry Potter. I'm sorry, were you trying to diss Harry Potter or reiterate how awesome it is? I can understand how he got caught up in it all, though. It happens to everyone.

     In the next paragraph, he tries to bash each of the directors individually. He begins with Chris Columbus- director of the first two films- claiming that movies 1 and 2 were a “narrative mess.” Funny how the movies wouldn’t be as popular as they are today if the two movies that began the whole thing weren’t such a “narrative mess.”  He also mentions the latest director- David Yates. He claims that he suffers from “Peter Jackson disease.” He complains that the cameras rock and quiver too often. From what I saw, the cameras only move in a distracting way if the scene is a battle scene or a chase scene. This type of camera motion actually adds to the frantic emotion of the scene, in my opinion, making the purpose of the scene to the plot more meaningful.
            The next paragraph really gets me steamed. Setoodeh makes the gigantic mistake of comparing the scenes (well, the woodsy setting of most of the scenes) to the Twilight books and movies. I am a twilight fan, but Harry Potter and Twilight are definitely on different levels of awesomeness. Different realms of awesomeness. Different universes of awesomeness. Harry Potter wins everyday, hands down. Setoodeh’s point is that he likes the Twilight movies better for their “giddy, guilty pleasure” qualities. He claims that the love triangle that presents itself between Ron, Hermione and Harry isn’t satisfying enough for his taste and that he would rather see “shirtless werewolves.” He claims that Harry Potter is “too comatose to pull off sexy.” Is that what friendship has come to these days? Is that what the modern day society thinks should happen between 3 good-looking teens out in the wilderness? I personally prefer the darker, more ominous plot points that actually pertain to the story in any moderate way. The love triangle is emphasized just enough- to make viewers predict future occurrences and to feel emotional connections with the story.
            In my opinion, I want Harry Potter to last forever. The directors have done a wonderful job bring to life the world I loved reading about. And critics like Mr. Ramin Setoodeh can try to produce a better film, and then they can go and bash the artistical genius of other directors.