Who's watching you?

It seems to be the general consensus that Americans are the most paranoid people on earth. Being an American I'll admit that I'm paranoid part of the time, and I don't take it the extreme as my Canadian neighbor does. When she's on vacation for a FEW DAYS, she'll get someone to check her mail and use a timer for her lights in the house. If I'm gone for two weeks then I'll use the timer for our lights inside, but I don't bother with the mail.

Anyways, with all the talk of "Big Brother," being monitored by the government, illegal immigrants, drug wars on the Mexican/U.S. border, and the economy who isn't gonna be paranoid? I'd be more paranoid about the economy than the others. That's just me though. The U.S. government complains that they don't have enough border patrol agents to police the area. Well, when you get thrown in PRISON for shooting a Mexican drug dealer in the ass who would apply for the job?

I'm a bit off topic again. There's a site where ANYONE can monitor Texas' portion of the border. Like you don't have anything else to do, right? Well, apparently one woman in New York spends four hours a day watching. FOUR HOURS!! That's like four episodes of Lost, a bunch of really long showers including shaving, doing several loads of laundry, half a days work, and eight episodes of My Name Is Earl! If you're a mother of a baby, do you think you have time to devote four hours of your day to watching the border?

All I can say is "WHAT THE F***?!!"

You can check out the full story on CNN. The link to the border watching site is there as well.

What the hell is wrong with you people?

How many times have you struggled with your blanket on the couch, or haven't been able to find anything in your oversized, overstuffed purse? Maybe you have too many wine stains in your white shag carpet. Or you watch TV loud enough to disturb your spouse.

Then you need any easy answer from an informercial!

The informercial is having a sort of renaissance with the massive hit "The Snuggie" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xZp-GLMMJ0). This is the blanket alternative for retards who can't use a blanket. What the hell is wrong with you Snuggie-ites?! You're paying $19.99 for a backwards housecoat! But the most loathesome part is the woman struggling under her blanket. It's a blanket, lady -- not Spiderman's webbing. Why fight it like it's made of lead covered in mercury sprinkled with SARs?

Then there are the clips of the folks wrapped happily (wrappily?) in their Snuggies. The family kills me, because it further takes me away from the reality of how amazing the backwards housecoat is and how it brings people together (like a cult). First of all, the family is wearing the same colour. I never wore the same colour as my sibling (even if the alternative was baby crap yellow/brown or pus pink). There's no individuality in their choices and I conclude they're part of a cult of backwards-housecoat wearers who go to blanket burnings in a wooded compound -- just watch the end of the commercial -- it's all laid out for you.

The Sham Wow is one informercial that causes heated discussions at parties. Does it work? Does it not work? And here's what I think: You won't know unless you buy it from the strange man in the headset. Once it arrives in six to eight weeks, it will only work if you truly believe in its power. If your Sham Wow just lays there and sucks up nothing (instead it just plain sucks), clapping your hands like it's Tinkerbell won't bring it to life (unless you truly, truly believe...).

Another thing about the Sham Wow commercial is something the guy generalizes about that makes me wonder if I should be offended or not: "It was made in Germany. You know the Germans always make good stuff." And why I'm going off to hell is because the first German-made "stuff" I thought of was a concentration camp (now I'm generalizing). He probably (hopefully) means beer or Volkswagens (more generalizing). I don't know if I should be offended that he lumped in a whole nationality or just to let it go.

Then again, I'm not a fat person and I'm still offended by the prick in the Bowflex commercial. You know the guy -- he looks like Duckie from Pretty in Pink, except now that he's on Two and A Half Men. Everytime I hear the non-word "Bowflex" I think of this prick: "I gave all my fat clothes to my fat friends."

Wow, you call your friends fat? How many fat friends do you have now? What's that? None? Big surprise. Prick.

Fat people don't want to be told they're fat by some musclehead -- they know, they're not stupid like Bowflex pricks.

I don't know what the hell is wrong with these people or how they get on TV, but what the hell is wrong with us, the general public? We're buying this garbage. We're twittering, facebooking, and Youtubing our love (or hate) for these products.

If you bought that Bowflex in an installment plan and don't use it enough to make the cost worth it, buyer beware or be aware of yourself and your loose wallet. If you bought the Snuggie and love the hell out of it, so much that you wear it to work or make love to your spouse in it, good for you: you've just given the infomercial folks an easy target for their next cheaply produced advertisement.

-Girl on the Corner, hiding blankets in her attic from the SS (Snuggie Supporters)

Two-timer comes clean

Dear Blog,

I have a shameful confession to make. Inspired by Girl on the Corner's honesty, I feel that I too must come clean: I've been having a relationship with another blog for more than four months now. I had tried to find a way to break it to you gently, but I could never find the words. I'm sorry that it has come to this.

Now, I assure you, I have not abandoned you, dear blog, faithful blog. You were my first blog, and as we all know, you never truly get over your first blog. In fact, I hope you will be able to make peace with my other blog so that we can all co-exist in loving harmony, perhaps as some sort of kinky three-way marriage, if that's not asking too much (I won't press the matter just yet). If it's any comfort to you, I only share my cinematic musings with this other blog, but my secret desires, my most feverish dreams, my heart, my soul—that belongs to you.

Please know that I'm there for you.

Bloggingly yours,
Joe Wet Cow

Won't ya be my readers?

I've decided to juggle blogs and rock out with my rooster out. I hope you'll all give my second blog a read from time to time.

http://rockrageous.blogspot.com/

-Girl on the Corner (for those about to read, I salute you!)

I'm not your mom (I promise)

(Happy New Year!)

I blame my voice recorder. I was fine until then -- my shoulders set back a little straighter, my words chosen a little more carefully as I converse with strangers, my eyes targeting the eyes of strangers. Only an adult and RSP* could display such confident body language.

And then there are the tangibles that show adulthood, like the car or furniture. Then there's the first steps onto the career track, the GICs and RRSPs, and the thoughts of buying a condo close to work.

Talk about being an adult, a grown-up, a big person. What the hell, right? I was a squeaky-voiced teenager at Zellers Smellers (or Zellers Hellers) only a few years ago being yelled at by fat, old women trapped in their jobs, doing the same work and being in the same financial situation as a 19-year-old girl.

I felt so adult up until that voice recorder that I started to smile appreciatingly at babies and toddlers, thinking, "Yeah, one day I think I'd like to get me one of those and be one of those 'mom things,' so I can get promoted to a grandma position."

And even though this was all just a wandering thought (so don't worry, boyfriend), I was jonesing for some mom time.

And then I heard myself on tape -- a squeaky-voiced girl with a ridiculously stupid, fake laugh. Why didn't anybody tell me I'm still Nerd Girl? Didn't you see that I was only just lost in an adult cloud and not actually an adult?

Sigh, shudder, for shame.

With a voice like mine, I can't spawn; it's too cute and clean and desperate to be liked and respected (but inside I hear a deeper, stronger womanly voice, almost tomboyish somedays).

So I can't be a mom anytime soon (unless by accident or God pokes me like he did with the "Virgin" Mary [are those quotations sacrilege?]). So until my voice catches up to the rest of my adult characteristics, I'll play baby-keep-away and sit in my parents' basement playing Nintendo with my legs firmly shut.

-- Girl on the Corner (using her voice as birth control)

*Recovering Shy Person