My TiVo thinks I’m an idiot

I finally got around to replacing my old TiVo that broke about a year ago. For the last week, I’ve been reabsorbed into the world of TiVo, which promises to raise the number of hours I watch TV every week from, well, one to…probably about two-and-a-half. Even when I had TiVo before, I didn’t use it so often. I’m just not a big TV watcher. For some reason, it’s never been a zone-out activity for me—if I want to vegetate, I just play spider solitaire until I’m bleary-eyed and stumble off to bed. (Secret tip: if you really want to sleep like the dead, play Text Twister for 10 minutes. It’s like taking 18 fucking Valium). But TV? I am awake, I listen for content, I even attend to the commercials.

Nevertheless, I want to make sure my 2 ½ hours is well spent, and I still miss it even though it’s too-too-2001, and I’m a big fan of collaborative filtering technologies—the applications that sift through your choices on Amazon or Netflix to recommend options that similar-minded people have found appealing. I dig it so much, I even used to write about it at my former job. So I fell into the same trap that I did last time, by allowing TiVo to record its recommendations for me. And boy, does it think I am retarded.

For the past few days, I’ve been fighting off an onslaught of televised crap, all dutifully recorded for me by my faithful TiVo. The shows range from merely bad (Murder, She Wrote, Gearhead TV), to bewildering (Kim Possible? The Fairly Odd Parents?), to downright terrifying (“Brandy and Mr. Whiskers”). Seriously, Brandy and Mr. Whiskers. Icy shivers went down my spine when I saw that. My TiVo thinks I’d like something with “Mr. Whiskers” in the title.

I know, I know, everyone has had this experience already and wrote it up and moved on…but wasn’t that like three years ago? Hasn’t the technology improved since then? I would have let it go, but Mr. Whiskers! I mean, WTF?

This is probably the last thing you see before you die.

Will someone please give Bush a blowjob so we can impeach him!

SOMEONE'S got to take a hit for the team!

I been spending some time with my pal L; she crashed at my place last w/e and we went to brunch afterwards (those guys at the Nervous Dog café are so sweet!). L and I were talking about why it is that more people aren’t protesting the war. I mean, the EU has had riots, and ongoing protests, whereas we are kind of complacent. Despite the unpopularity of the war, the unpopularity of that fucking tool Bush, the civil war that is Mess-o-potamia (thanks Jon Stewart), and the possibility of rinsing-and-repeating with Iran, and Bush’s role in exposing CIA agents…we still have not impeached our prez. What the hell is wrong with us? And I am the worst of all, as I am doing nothing. (…because I don’t see everyone else doing something, because they don’t see me doing something…etc. etc.) We decided that ad/branding people need to work with activists to market an anti-war message, because unfortunately, nothing gets big without the right kind of publicity. It really helps to generate mass awareness (or maybe being in the corporate world is poisoning my brain?) We need slogans—my favorite is ITMFA, but that won’t go over well in Peoria—and symbols. Are there any ribbon colors left? How bout blue? Or is that too EFF? (Or Pabst?)

Ads Are My Friends

I was done posting for tonight, I really was...then I noticed this blog. It's just a compilation of crap designed to redirect folks to boring ad sites, but the nonsensical text is kind of beautiful. Almost haiku-like.

The ability to fetch killer bunnies news, is with us killer bunnies.

We grasp everything in regard to killer bunnies

.

Do you demand the terrific dodge ram resources? We have that nearby dodge ram.

We make it uncomplicated to dodge ram interpret.

.

.

Do YOU demand the terrific dodge ram resources?

.

.

Do you really?

If only she would use her powers for the forces of good...

Recently I’ve been talking to friends about Evil Super Powers. For those of you who aren’t in touch with their evil abilities, Evil Super Powers are those bad habits that you are really, really good at. So good that you don’t have to use them unconsciously, for they have become a thing to be honed, perfected, deliberately polished to a sheen for the admiration of friends and family. There’s a level of intentionality that places it outside the realm of simple personality flaws. Skills, good habits, and talents need not apply, of course.

I have been blessed with multiple Evil Super Powers—anyone who knows me can tell you that—but there are two I am especially proud of: my Pokiness, and my ability to feel guilty. My pokiness is fucking legendary: I talk slow, I walk slow, I think slow, I shop slow, I do almost everything except drive slow (on the 280 y’all betta make way). I am Pokitronic. I could be slow for my country.

To have world-domination-class Evil Super Powers, they also have to potentially mess with your ability to enjoy life. My friend D is amazed at how easy it is to guilt-trip me—she says it’s especially impressive in someone who wasn’t raised Catholic or Jewish (she was raised as both, so I’ve got street cred). I don’t think I need to give examples of this particular Evil Super Power: if you are in the least bit familiar with my recent romantic history then you know.

At first this was just a thing that us gals noticed in ourselves: J has the ability to transform any compliment or comment into a perceived insult (“wow, that sure was a big lunch we had.” “Hey, are you calling me fat?”). D has quite the skill in being indecisive/ ambivalent—playing Scruples with her in high school was a snap (the answer is fucking always “it depends”). We have taken turns channeling each others’ Evil Super Powers, cuz it’s fun.

But probably most people have Evil Super Powers. My XO is adverse to change; his timeline for doing new things isn’t in weeks or months, it’s in years. I’ve known people who had federal grants that lasted less time than the time it took him to pull the trigger on getting a pet. And I work with a woman—very nice, very funny—who is relentlessly complimentary to others. So much so that despite her protests to the contrary, you’d swear she’s blowing smoke up your butt every single day. (Actually, I’m still not sure she isn’t…). BTW, the ability to make others uncertain or confused is the hallmark of a varsity-level Evil Super Power. Is she serious? Or just fucking with your head? Anyways, I’d like to pit her Evil Super Power against J’s. I wonder who would win. I think the universe would explode.

Anyway, I have to stop this, as I am starting to feel guilty (! sometimes I don’t have control over that particular superpower). But think about what your Evil Super Power might be. It’s not that nasty little habit that no one else knows about. It’s probably the thing your friends always tease you about…Whatever it is, grab that bad boy and make it shine. Congrats, that is YOUR Evil Super Power!

I Hate Things

Question for the imaginary readers (you know who you are): if you go on a date, but there is no goodnight kiss…is it still to be considered a date? Should it be retroactively downgraded to something else, like an “outing” or a “hangin’ out” or just a “thing”? Is it just a bad date, or an unsuccessful one? Or should we think of such an event as never having actually been a date in the first place? Kind of like that scene in Quills where there’s the closeup of a woman, and her eyes are closed, and she’s breathing heavily like something fabulously kinky is going to happen…and then the camera pans back and she’s actually breathing heavily because she’s standing in front of a jeering crowd and is about to be executed. I know, whatever, it’s probably a French thing. But it’s a good example, come to think of it…

These are all hypothetical questions of course.

But one thing’s for sure—I am anti-outings. Outings suck.

Glare's Got A Big Ol' Butt...So I'm Leavin' You (see ya!)

I'm trying out a new blog name (cuz I'm a fickle bitch and can't make up my mind. Focus, Glare, foooocccuuuuss). I'm keeping my original moniker, though--it's too perfect to lose.

Here is something you must know: my Robotech identity is...


!!!....ummm....at least I'm cute?

Go here right now to see what kind of Robotech character you are! Hopefully you're not a dour biddy like me.