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Posts Tagged ‘Media’

WrestleMania was glorious. GLORIOUS!

I laughed. I cried. It was better than “Cats.”*

It began with a bang: Edge, the R-rated Superstar, vs. Alberto Del Rio.

 

VS.

 

 

 

 

 

 





My first hearty laugh of the evening came when the announcer claimed that Edge, in his vise grip on Del Rio, was trying to “rip the pectoral from the bone.” Sure. Sure he was.

I enjoyed many more noteworthy moves:

There were tire irons, sledgehammers, folding chairs, ATVs, pyrotechnics, muscular men in small panties — everything a girl could want.

And Pee-wee Herman. What the heck was he doing there? Well, a little sketch with The Rock.

And Snooki. She wrestled with Trish Stratus and John Morrison against LayCool. And busted out some acrobatics. Who knew?

My favorite part was listening to the commentary from the announcers. Here’s a sample:

  • “I’m sure that knee doesn’t need any more punishment delivered to it.”
  • “Whatever is going through his mind is definitely diabolical.”
  • “That could have damaged his nervous system.”
  • “Is there an escape from hell’s gate?”
  • “We all smell what The Rock is cooking.”

Dominic and Gideon were fascinated. Dominic even felt the need to document the occasion.

Yes, more scarring.

I was scarred by the sight of John Cena’s jorts.

Despite that, plans are underway to watch WrestleMania XXVIII … in Miami!

*If anyone can find a video of the original Broadway show commercial that used this line, I will be eternally grateful.

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“What is this, Mama?”
“This, Honey, is WrestleMania.”

Oh yes, it is.

In a shocking metamorphosis that began with moving out to “The Country” in 2006, continued with burning trash in the backyard and attending the Redneck Games and Rattlesnake Roundup, I have become what I feared the most: a redneck.

Or at least I have begun to assimilate into the culture.

I’ve been excited all week because tonight is Wrestlemania XXVII.

Ed almost had me talked into going to Atlanta to witness it live. But there is that little matter of an 8 a.m. class I have to teach. So, thanks to Xfinity, I can enjoy The Rock in the comfort of my own home. Oh yes, I would like to smell what The Rock is cookin’.

Also a draw: The Miz, whom I remember from “The Real World: Back to New York.” He’s also the WWE World Champion. And he’s AWESOME!

Ed and Trish have arrived for the event. Ed is in the kitchen, making nachos. Trish is taking bets on who wins each match. The kids are engrossed. Eddie is amused, as he usually is, by what I get us into. I’m writing this confessional. All is right in the world.

Look for the recap tomorrow.

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I love that WordPress lets me know how people find my blog via search engines. For example:

My posts about the annual Redneck Games, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and rhetorical devices get the most visitors from search engines. Interesting.

I talked to Trish yesterday about following up our Redneck Games extravaganza with the annual Claxton Rattlesnake Roundup next month. She claimed she put it on her calendar. Hmmm. I suspect I’ll have to hound her into submission.

I’ve got nothing to say today about the Cheetos. I have a pantry packed with Flamin’ goodness.

I’m not sure I’ve got much left to say about rhetorical devices. And that’s a device right there. Aporia (“Uh-POHR-ee-uh”) is the act of expressing real or simulated doubt.

Another one comes to mind because some friends and I have been talking about the musical “Hair.” (It has been 10 years since we — yes, I was in it — performed it at SCAD.)

Ain’t Got No” is an example of anaphora (“Uh-NAF-er-uh”) because each line begins with the same words.

Finally (for today), dialysis refers to weighing two arguments as a choice: either/or, this/not that, no/yes, etc. For example, I had a Twitter spat with some woman in Atlanta who objected to what I said about Glenn Beck:

 

So, according to nautilus55, EITHER I like Glenn Beck, OR I am a liberal. No room for anything else there, I guess. And that’s a false dilemma, my friends, which is a logical fallacy. More about those some other time …

 

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So today is apparently a big day for American football fans. In my world, here is how I remember who is still a contender:

Game 1:

The team immortalized by Chris Farley and some other folks in a “Saturday Night Live” skit vs. The team formerly led by the is-he-retiring-is-he-not guy who supposedly texted photos of his naughty bits.

Bit players won.

Game 2:

The team that used to have great players like my sixth-grade teacher’s husband’s cousin (John Stallworth) but is now led by an alleged pervert/assaulter vs. The Jets (as opposed to the Sharks).

Eddie likes the Jets, but, as I am writing this, a flock of geese evidently flew into their engines and they are making an emergency landing.

I sort of cared about the playoffs when the Falcons were still in it. Now I don’t care at all. But I’m still excited about the Super Bowl.

Why?

Commercials, people!

And this year’s Super Bowl coincides with the fact that I am teaching Promotional Writing where I get to talk about advertising. So I’m very excited.

And there’s the food, of course. It’s like the holidays where you give yourself a pass. I’m giving myself a pass to make myself sick on nachos while watching some double-perv action.

Yay, nachos!

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The word for the day is “meh.”

It is one of my favorite words, as students who have taken my classes will attest. I use it as an utterance in class, but also as a simple comment in the margin near a part of the submission I find less than stellar.

“Meh” beautifully conveys emotion — or rather, lack of emotion. It is a verbal shrug, a noncommittal answer, an indication of indifference.

It is the word for the day because my esteemed colleague Jonathan Rabb told me that one of our mutual students tried to use it in the narrative of a paper for his class. And then, when Jonathan balked, that person tried to justify it by citing me.

No, no, no. It can be used in a quote (“Meh,” she said). It can be used as a reaction (see above image). It can’t really be used in a narrative. It is akin to other interjections such as “Argh!” or “Rats!” (or even old-school Shaggy‘s “Zoinks!”) and has to be treated as such. Yes, even though it is now included in some dictionaries. Read this article for more on the origin and status of the word. (Note: I would put quotation marks around the word as it is used in the dictionary’s example.)

Despite its limitations, I think it is a lovely word that says so much with so little. I would like to celebrate the word by wearing this:

So, it is fair to say that I don’t feel “meh” about “meh.”

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I’m not an avid reader of the Financial Times but, thanks to 36-Hour Tina (and that’s starting to sound like some kind of creepy porn name), I am a fan of Lucy Kellaway.

She is a management columnist, and (yet?) is quite funny. She also is a kindred spirit. In her latest column, Kellaway discusses the branding of books as “reading containers” and cars as “sustainable mobility solutions.”

Oh my.

Tina is becoming quite the resource. She also provided this lovely bit of nonsense.

EUR claws its way back to 1.2900 on PBOC reserve diversification talk; trader preference still to fade rallies.

Whaaaa?

She said this is an example of “run speak,” which is the “commentary traders attach to prices of bonds, currencies, etc.”

Well.

I think I’ll stick to my kind of creative nonfiction.

 

 

 

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I’ve been working very hard on my dissertation. I know that may come as a shock, but it’s true.

According to what I wrote in my proposal and IRB application, I am trying to determine what television news reporters in small markets perceive as influences on their daily newsgathering and decision-making processes. And, just to make it extra fun, I chose a qualitative research method: in-depth interviews.

It has been challenging to find participants, then schedule and conduct the interviews — all of which have been phone interviews. Many of these have happened after dinner, before the kids go to bed.

You can sense a disaster about to happen, can’t you?

Tonight, I had two interviews in a row. Eddie was supposed to keep the boys quiet.

For whatever unfathomable reason, he decided to stage some kind of freaky dance party in our living room instead — with predictably disastrous results.

Meanwhile, just a few steps away, I was in my office, trying to conduct an interview.

Hear the disaster here.

I can’t imagine what that poor reporter thinks.

(And don’t worry — both boys are just fine.)

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“Operation Jaws”

Well, the story of the Sharm el-Sheikh shark just got weirder. I thought the anthropomorphism was bad, but the story 36-hour Tina forwarded is much worse.

Read and marvel at the full article. This is an image of the “spy” shark, taken moments before one of the attacks.

Wait — are those robotic fins and laser beams I see? And the Israeli flag too?

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I saw “Jaws” at an impressionable age, so I don’t swim in the ocean. Water up to my knees is fine, thank you very much. I’m fascinated by shark attacks, so this tweet caught my eye:

Is this the finned marauder responsible for an attack on tourists in the water near Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt?

Maybe. Maybe not.

The amazing thing about this story is the anthropomorphism of sharks.

Look, people, it’s a shark, not the Bikini Killer. If you don’t want to be lunch, stay out of the water. It’s that simple.

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Rejecting the rejector

My fat took the letter well, and seems to be going away quietly. At least according to the YMCA scale, which reveals that there’s five pounds less of me.

Yay.

The miracle of eating heathfully and exercising more. What a novel concept!

Since I began my exercise class extravaganza, I’ve also invested in more appropriate outfits to replace my T-shirts and sweats.

My taste runs more along the lines of this:

Rebecca Romijn, appropriately clothed

rather than this:

Kim Kardashian. Oh HELL no.

And you will NEVER catch me dressed like this, even if I manage to lose every single ounce of fat:

Jamie Lee Curtis in "Perfect," wearing an outfit looking not-so-perfect in the glow of 2010

Struggling through the torture of “Awesome Abs” today also helped tamp down a minor disappointment: McSweeney’s* did not like my open letter as much as my friends did.

 

Oh well. Rejection is nothing new for a writer.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
~Samuel Beckett
Or, alternatively,
I discovered that rejections are not altogether a bad thing. They teach a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart of hearts, ‘To hell with you.’ ~Saul Bellow

 

* A friend suggested I submit it for their “Open letters to people or entities who are unlikely to respond” section.


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