Why, Rudolph! What Magnetic Skin You Have!

Every year, people like to complain about how early Christmas stuff gets put up and/or sold. Unfortunately, stores like The Christmas Tree Shop exist, and they sell holiday crap every day of the year. My personal peeve is the Christmas Countdown movie specials all over TV. The movies themselves aren't the problem, it's the advertising that goes into it. For the past few years, ABC Family has had a countdown to the start of their Christmas season, which itself is a countdown to Christmas. What we have here is a countdown to a countdown.

Mmm... nothing like beating a dead horse!

I'm in no way a Scrooge. I enjoy holiday music, I live off of holiday goodies, and I love holiday movies (are you really gonna sit there and pretend that you aren't a fan of Love Actually? Because you need to stop reading my blog if you are). I just think that the commercializing of the holiday is a bit out of control, and some people need to take a chill pill.

This brings me to the heart of today's blog post: Cars with reindeer antlers and rudolph noses. It was (maybe) cute the first time I saw it... five years ago. As I've said before, I already assume everyone else on the road is going to, wittingly or not, attempt to kill me while driving. Now, I see that the idiot next to me has ANTLERS on his car? It's a huge fail on so many levels.

You no longer get any courtesy on the road. You need to get into my lane? Feel free to find a spot behind me. You're trying to yell at me from your car because you think I did something stupid? Clearly you haven't looked in a mirror. You're sitting in the parking lot with your turn signal on, waiting for my parking space? I think I need to stay here and rock out to the next song that comes on the radio. (Woooo! Yes! I love... Michael Bolton? DAMMIT. *changes station* Ah, Ke$ha... that's better!)
There are a number of holiday "traditions" that I could do without. Fruit cake is one of them. Reindeer antlers on cars is another.

Looking For An Ego Boost In All The Wrong Places

I recently (read: three days ago) received Karaoke Revolution: Glee as a gift. I’ve always been a fan of video games that incorporate singing (like Rock Band), but I’ve never owned one myself.  So, naturally, I did what any excited twenty-something would do… I waited for my family to leave for New York and started trying it out when I had the house to myself. For whatever reason, I can perform on stage without a problem, but singing in front of a handful of people is an issue. Go figure.

Now, I’ve been listening to the music from Glee for quite a while… I was a little over-zealous when the first two CDs came out, and bought them both on the days they were released, and both then became staples in my car CD player. On top of that, I knew most of those songs from hearing the originals on the radio (yes, any random readers I get who were born after 1990… songs on Glee were real songs first!). Because of both these facts, I figured the game should be a piece of cake. I turned it on to a random song, which just so happened to be the biggest, most downplayed song the show ever did, “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going.”

Yes, I have my diva moments. Moving on.

Here’s how I thought I was doing:

In actuality, this is what happened:

Luckily I kept my composure better than this girl, and finished the song. The way this karaoke deal works is that there are the notes you sing, and those notes are broken up into phrases. To do well, you need to get a certain number of notes correct per phrase. You get scores on accuracy (percentage of correct notes) and phrases (how many phrases you “completed”). While I had hit 85% of the notes, I had only completed 30 of the 69 (tee hee) phrases. Both of these, in my very humble and unbiased opinion, were just not true. So I decided to try an experiment.

I sang the entire song on “ooo.” I thought of that at one point in the song, when I was holding a particularly long “me” that the game said wasn’t even near the correct pitch. I changed to an “ooo” while holding the same note (which, yes, means I had to "meow" while singing), and I was magically correct!

The result of my experiment? 96% accuracy, 65/69 (... tee hee) phrases.

My conclusion? Ghosts would do very well with this game. Also, I’m too much talent for Karaoke Revolution: Glee to handle. And, really, isn’t that what the game, like the hokey pokey, is what it’s all about?

Covers: The Best and The Worst, At the SAME TIME!!

YouTube is awesome for so, so many reasons. Aside from all the goofy videos, you can listen to all the songs you normally hear on the radio, and other songs by those artists. This is one that I've been listening to recently:



Grace Potter and the Nocturnals is a personal favorite. (Vermont pride!) I highly recommend you check them out... they're on the rise!

Obviously I'm not just writing to plug one of my favorite bands. My absolute favorite part of YouTube is the fact that anyone can upload their own covers of great songs, such as this one, pretty much turning YouTube into the Promised Land of Judgement for someone with strong opinions about music, like myself. Here are two extreme examples:

This video is an example of a great cover. The girl who posted it learned the song and has the skills to warrant posting a video. Videos like this are appreciated because they show that there are plenty of talented individuals in the world who could probably blow the likes of Miley Cyrus and Nickelback out of the water.

This video is the exact opposite. The girl doesn't know half the lyrics and she has a... lovely (and unexpected) key change near the end (around 1:50). Seriously, I've never opened my eyes so widely in horror while listening to a YouTube performance as I did while hearing her attempt to squeak in this rendition. I'll give her a B for effort, though, because she's clearly into it, but not enough to make me want to listen ever ever ever again.

If it's on Facebook, it MUST be true!

Judging Rant: Facebook "Activism"

Let's be honest, Facebook is the worst. If it didn't serve as a great catching up/procrastination tool, I would get rid of my account. Still, I'm on there and get to witness things like last week's Child Abuse Awareness campaign, where people put up pictures of their favorite cartoon from when they were kids in order to raise awareness of child abuse. This raises multiple questions in my mind:

1. To whom are you trying to raise awareness? What exactly is the message? That you yourself are aware that child abuse exists?

2. What do you hope to accomplish by raising said awareness? Suppose that this campaign reached every person with a Facebook account. Would the creator say "Yaaaay! Everyone knows that child abuse exists!" and then call it a day?

3. Why did I not see a single Rugrats character?

I saw the term "Slacktivism" today on a blog I subscribe to, and there really isn't a better way to describe what this is. It would be like some old guy having a heart attack in the mall, and instead of helping him, everyone pulls out their phones and changes their Facebook profile pictures to their favorite picture of a heart to show solidarity with the dying man. Nowadays, awareness is really the last thing that these larger issues need. Do you actually want to make a difference? Donate money to a non-profit doing real work in this area, or go and volunteer with a local group. GET OFF FACEBOOK AND DO SOMETHING REAL.

A Silent "Hello"

A Moment in Judgement

It's difficult coming up with blanket topics to make judgements on as often as I want to post on here (thinking makes me tired...), so I thought I'd try a new segment called "A Moment in Judgement." It's nothing elaborate, just a quick story. Hopefully this'll allow me to post more often and not stare at a blank screen with writer's block.

Side Note: I've decided I need to live blog an awards show. Get excited.

The story: I've developed the habit of smiling and nodding at passersby when I'm walking around. It seems like the nice thing to do once you've made eye contact with someone. A quick smile, a nod, maybe a quiet "hey" if I'm feeling generous. Everyone has some mechanism like this for when they pass by strangers. More outgoing people might give a full-out "Good morning, how are you?" only expecting a response about 50% of the time. More introverted individuals might quickly divert their gaze or stare at the ground. That three second window of opportunity for a social exchange can tell you a lot about a person.

A few weeks ago, I was at work, walking down a hall by myself, and I happened across an older man walking in the other direction. When we got close enough, I gave him a smile and a nod. In exhange, I got a smile, followed by him mouthing a full conversation starter to me. I think what was "said" was "Why hello there! How are you?" I really can't categorize this greeting... it's a combination of introvert and extrovert. I decided to just give him an "A" for effort and keep moving.

Courtesy: A Novel Concept

Last weekend, yours truly was in Boston to visit a friend and have a general weekend of shenanigans.  It was highly successful!  Boston was a fun place, but you know me… I judge everything. Luckily my type of judging doesn’t fall under the “bitch, please” umbrella that most people equate with the craft, where the judging individual comes off as catty or constantly annoyed. My judging is more of a “you’re not a real person, what are you doing with your life?” which I think is more for entertainment purposes and makes for much better blog entries.

You know what else makes for better blog entries? Me cutting myself off before I start rambling senselessly.

This was my first time in Boston, and I’ve always heard about how Bostonians are unnecessarily rude. Vermont, where I lived for 12 years, didn’t have that issue (when your state manufactures Ben & Jerry’s, it’s difficult to be mean), and now that I live in the South, “mean” isn’t a term in my arsenal for describing people. Still, I got the chance to witness some random displays of aggressiveness, and I thought I’d share.

First, my friend and I were walking to the metro after a fantastic Italian dinner. We got to a street near whatever the rink is called where the Boston Bruins play (no, I’m not going to go research what it’s called, and yes, I’m being lazy), and are crossing the street while the little walking man is up on the crosswalk sign. In order to paint a better picture, I drew a picture. I did it in Paint, though, so for all intents and purposes I literally am attempting to Paint a better picture:

So the car decides that he wants to go right on red. We couldn’t care less because we were just starting to cross the street. Still, the driver decides that, for the entirety of the turn, he’s going to flip us off while making eye contact. Really, dude? It would have made my night if the area had been busy and he hit the person in front of him while flipping us off.

Next fun story happened later that night. We went to a bar with a 30 dollar gift certificate and two other friends. We got enough beer to (according to the bartender) use up the entire certificate, and then close out. Our bill is for a little less than 10 dollars (because the bartender didn’t tell us how much each beer actually was, and apparently she’s terrible at math… which will become apparent again soon). So we give the bartender a 20, and she gives us back 9 bucks. We count the money, stare at each other, finish up our current conversation, and then get our stuff from under the bar in order to leave. Then the following conversation happens:

Bartender: Excuse me, you need to leave me a tip.

*blank stares and silence from the four of us*

Brett: You didn’t give us all of our change back. You don’t get a tip.

Bartender: *indignant* I didn’t?!? I most certainly did!

Victoria: I’m sorry, we’re not giving you a tip because you didn’t give us our change and you’ve been sort of a b**** to us all night.

Bartender: Oh, I’VE been a b****? You’re sitting here telling me that I’ve been bad, and you’re about to leave without giving me a tip?

*at this point, Victoria and I walk away while Brett and our other friend have more choice words with the bartender*

I’ve never been told by a bartender that I HAVE to leave a tip. That’s a new one! And while I appreciate the fact that most food/drink service people work for tips, flat out saying that you need to leave a tip after giving shoddy service is a HUGE no-no.

Yes, those are two of my rude people stories. The taxi services could get their own entry… they actually deny passengers if they’re going somewhere that the taxi driver doesn’t feel like going, and they honk way too much. It was too aggressive up there for me, and I’m glad to be back down in the sweet, slow South, getting fat on sweet tea and fried chicken (read: Bojangle’s) and soaking in the southern hospitality.

Another Hairy Situation

So, it’s been a while since my last post. I am totally judging myself for that, and don’t blame you if you are judging me as well. I’m not gonna make any excuses, but rather make sure that I don’t go through any dry spells like that again. Unless I get abducted by aliens, in which case it might be a while until my next post (but you can be sure that I’ll be judging the hell out of those aliens the entire time I’m in their captivity. I hope for their sakes that they have a good grip on English grammar).

Without further adieu…

I went to the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear on October 30^th. Actually, I went to DC to visit my friend, and the best weekend for both of us happened to be the weekend of the rally, so I got to do both. If I had been more proactive, I would’ve taken “judging notes” on the people who were there. There were so many things that I had to stop and stare at, but this is one of my favorite judging moments from that day.

As those who have been reading my blog since the start know, I have a thing against guys who have long hair. It just doesn’t look good. Due to my strong opinions on the subject, it seems like it’s second nature for me to locate long-haired dudes (this may be why my default mien looks like half a scowl… don’t wanna give these guys the wrong impression or false hope that I’m checking them out for any reason other than to judge them!). At the rally, I didn’t have to look very far. Ten feet away from me were two guys with long, greasy hair. One had a black cowboy hat on, and the other had his hair in a ponytail. Gross.

Oh, but it gets better.

In this clique of individuals who desperately needed the intervention of a good mediocre living hairstylist were two or three girls with pigtails. Yes, pigtails. Readers, girls in pigtails stopped being “cute” at the age of seven* (I was going to say five, but I’ll give you all two years of wiggle room).  What made these girls especially entertaining was that their hair wasn’t that long, so I guess it would be more accurate to call their hair-do’s (er, hair-don’ts) “pig stubs.” All that it said to me was “we’re too lazy to come up with a hairstyle that looks good, but we don’t want to leave our hair down, so we’re just going to look ridiculous.” I appreciate you ladies looking out for my entertainment, but seriously, your hair combined with your trenchcoats (yes, trenchcoats)… it was a hot mess. I guess they at least gave me a distraction from the guys with the long hair?

In conclusion, the rally did its job. It restored my belief that I am sane and my fear of those with no sense of style when it comes to hair.

*- I should mention that, like with most judgments, there are always exceptions to the rule**. Some girls know how to work pigtails. These ladies did not.
**- There are no exceptions to the "guys shouldn't have long hair" rule.

Friday Shorts At The Fair!

So I pretty much failed at updating with a long post this week, but I’m not going to be a complete failure and forget to put up a Friday Shorts post!

Looks like the theme of this post is the NC State Fair. I went on Sunday (and am going again tomorrow), and the people/life watching, as you may have guessed, is phenomenal.

I’m Judging You: Listening to MP3 player in public

Not only are you in public, you’re at the fair. Surrounded by over 70,000 people. It’s not so much that I wanted to talk to you, but you’re missing out on half the experience of the fair, and I need everyone to have their ears open so that the carnies talk to them and I can sneak past without getting hollered at to “win a prize for the lovely lady” I’m walking with.

I’m Judging You: Carnival Prizes

I saw this gem at the fair, being offered as a prize:

Yes. That’s Michael Jackson. Sleep tight, kids!

I’m Judging You: High school couples

Why do all the fourteen and fifteen year old couples deem it necessary to hang out at the State Fair? And why do they always wait until I’m looking to start holding hands and making out? Seriously, it’s hard enough trying to keep my fried pecan pie down without having these images shoved into my head. Let’s save the PDA for the hot couples in their mid-twenties, okay?

Should I be Judging You? Krispy Kreme Burger
I ran out of stories already (guess I didn't have my eyes open too much?), so I'm improvising. One of the new fair foods this year is a burger that uses Krispy Kreme doughnuts as the buns. I've been repulsed at the idea of this burger for a while now, but that repulsion has turned into straight up curiousity. I think I'm gonna split one with a few other people tomorrow, just so I can say I tried it. I'll let you know if you should be judging the burger (or judging me for NOT judging the burger) next week.


Happy Friday!

“I Can’t Wait To See Your Shorts!”

The title of this edition of Friday Shorts is courtesy of one of my co-workers, and is a well-founded statement. I went to a Sara Bareilles concert with said coworker and another friend last night, and the people watching up in that place was unbelievable. I guess my flair for social commentary is getting a name for itself!

Without further adieu (or is it ado? Is “ado” even a word?), here is Friday Shorts: Concert Edition!

I’m Judging You: Two girls in front of us

When we arrived at the theater, we had a great spot with an awesome view of the stage. The two girls standing ahead of us were both standing wide and had a HUGE handbag between them. They were obviously saving a spot or two, but we didn’t think it’d be a big deal.

It was.

Their friends? Gigantor the teenage beanstalk, Gigantor’s girlfriend, and at least three other girls who were my height. The friends I went to the concert with are both under 5’3’’, so yes, this was a big problem. Well, it was a problem for us at least… the girls ahead of us didn’t really seem to care. This was made obvious when one of the original two girls “thanked” us for helping them save the spots. Lame.

I’m Judging You: The now much larger group of girls in front of us

Luckily, Gigantor moved to the side, so he wasn’t an issue. The girls, however, had no sense of “personal space” (which, to be fair, isn’t uncommon at a concert with no assigned seating. Or seats in general). They also insisted on taking AT LEAST FIVE group shots at various points in the night. Gigantor took one or two for them, but the rest were done “self-portrait” style, with one girl holding the camera and attempting to capture the entire group without being able to look at the screen.  This is clearly an appropriate method of picture taking when SURROUNDED BY PEOPLE. I should have photobombed the shit out of y’all when I had the chance.

I’m Judging You: Setup Crew Guy

Sir, you have what I can only describe as a reverse combover… You shaved all of your head except for a portion of the hair on top, which is kept long and looks like a thick combover. There is never a good reason for a haircut like that. Never.

Interactive Short! Impersonate the man standing next to me!

First, let’s work on appearance. Age yourself into your fifties, grow a dirtstache, and gather a posse of multicultural early twenty-somethings (this is only relevant because they were clearly not his grandkids). Next, to act like him, comb your fingers through your hair four or five times in a row, wait two minutes, then do it again. (Sidenote: Sir, yes there was a big ass fan blowing down on us to the point where half the women in the theatre looked like they were being prepped for glamour shots, but you don’t have long hair… there’s no reason for your excessive hair-combing) Also, cross your arms across your chest. Now without moving your upper arms, uncross your lower arms and clap with your hands hitting each other perfectly in line and at chest level. Feel free to do this after every song (with the crowd), after every North Carolina/The South reference (with half the crowd), and in place of laughing (with… nope, just you).

I’m Judging You: Sara Bareilles

Oh, who am I kidding? I could never judge Sara. She's one of the few artists who has both talent and an actual sense of humor. If I could think of an appropriate word that meant the opposite of "judging," I would use that.

Bustin' out them shorts!

So I've been pretty bad as of late with the blog. I'll try and get better! Anyway, I have a bunch of short judgements that I've been meaning to post, so I'm going to do some now and save others for the normal Friday Shorts segment.

I'm judging you: Guy in lunch line
So, we all understand that you were talking to the woman behind you, and then got carried away in conversation with the woman in front of you while the woman behind you decided to leave the line in search of better foods. What we don't understand is why, upon turning around, making a statement to my coworker as if she were the original woman, and realizing that she wasn't who you thought she was, did you decide to continue attempting to engage my coworker in something barely passable as banter? You win the "awkward award," sir, so congrats!

I'm judging you: Guy driving with the top down
I'm driving to work at 7:15 in the morning. My car is saying it's a few degrees below 50 outside. Why, then, do I see you driving around with your convertible's top down? You look like you're in your mid-40's, you should know better. And if this is your "mid-crisis" car, you really need to do better. It looked more like what Oldsmobile would make if they were still around and in the convertible business.

I'm judging you: Breast Cancer Awareness Facebook campaign
Last year, whoever came up with the meme had it right... the whole point was to spread breast cancer awareness, and the closest thing to one's boobs is a bra, so might as well have women list off the color of their bras. It's ambiguous enough that every man will be sure to comment and news carriers will pick up the story. This year, though, I felt let down. I'll give you props for the ambiguity and therefore the forced double entendres that happened. But, purses? Really? That'd be like men updating their statuses to describe where they like to keep their toolboxes in order to promote prostate cancer awareness (though my example is better because even the toolbox is a double entendre).

Maybe they just like seeing your pretty faces?

(I started writing this on Thursday, but saved it as a draft and forgot to publish it. Whoops!)

I'm Judging You: France

For those who didn't know, the ban on women wearing burquas (and other garbs that cover one's face) in France went into effect last Thursday. France claims it's a human rights issue and that women shouldn't be forced to wear them. While, yes, being forced to wear clothing that covers one's face is a big issue (and one that should be fought), a lot of these women wear the clothing as a part of their religion. So instead of making a statement on a human rights issue, France is making a statement of religious intolerance/stupidity.

Really, though, I'm beyond stumped as to how an entire country could be so naive about an issue such as this. It'd be like the Arizona laws on illegal immigration catching fire and making it through the federal government to apply to the entire United States. What's worse is that it appears from polls (not gonna comment on their bias because 1) I don't know, and 2) I don't have the data on me... but this is a blog and so that shouldn't matter... I'm spewing opinions and sarcasm left and right anyway) that around 4 out of 5 French residents approve of the ban.

I know the U.S. (deservedly) gets a lot of flak for being stupid, but at least we haven't taken governmental action to prohibit religious freedom (... yet). I'm still waiting for France to release a statement saying that they didn't think the law would be enacted so soon, and that it was supposed to go "into effect" on April Fool's Day, when they'd formally announce that they were just kidding.

When Politics Become Profound

I’m making today’s post a regular one instead of a bunch of shorts, mostly because the creative parts of my mind are consumed by all of the LGBT youth suicides, and I’m afraid to see what sorts of things I might end up attempting to publish on these here internets. At any rate, happy October!

I’m Judging You: Fake Political Activist

I noticed a sign on my drive into work this past week. I made a replica of it in Word using Comic Sans, because that actually looks like the font this person painted the sign in. The sign is on a white-washed piece of plywood with the following painted in big, black letters:

Now, my judging this person should be pretty obvious. It’s about as juvenile an ad campaign as one can get. I think it’s almost worse than those signs you see that pop up around election time that just have the candidate’s name and what they’re running for (the ones that multiply faster than rabbits and occupy every square inch of grass along any and all city roadways). Anyway, the first line of that sign is my favorite, and reminded me that my state, despite what happened last election, is still very, very red. I’m also quite sure that many voters in my area (including the maker of this sign, I bet) will be confused when they see Lawson on the ballot, but not Pelosi.

And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?

I’m Judging You: Celebrity obsessors

Really, though, this should go without saying. I don’t understand why people are so intent on keeping up with the lives of people they’ve never met. Some of the crap out there that monitors celebrities (read: tabloids) is just so sensational that I can’t believe people actually take it seriously. In fact, one of my fun games is to send pictures of all the ridiculous Brangelina/Jennifer Anniston crap back and forth with a friend of mine in Colorado and see who can come up with the best caption.

Back to the subject at hand… it’s bad enough that celebs can do stupid shit (like shoving coke up their hoo-hahs for safe keeping) and get the equivalent of a slap on the wrist, and that supposedly legitimate news sources feel compelled to report about it as if it were actual news. Talking with someone in person who tries to bring up this thing they saw about the Kardashians as an actual conversation piece (and not just something like “I deleted all of my facebook friends who insist on keeping the world up to date on the shenanigans that the Kardashians get into,” but rather “I want to keep you up to date on all the shenanigans that the Kardashians get into”) is more painful than sitting through a full episode of Jersey Shore. So don’t bring celebrity gossip up in conversation, unless of course you meet a Kardashian and become friends with her (which I don’t think will happen because I’m pretty sure they’re all a myth. Like unicorns. Or the Tea Party.)

Besides, everyone knows that judging celebrities is the cop-out version of people watching. They're captive, and there's a zero-percent chance they'll know what you're saying. Where's the fun in that? Stop watching TV and go out in public and judge people like any self-respecting person would.

Side note 1: Making fun of celebs at awards shows (mostly their outfits) is highly encouraged. Discussing what celebs had for lunch and how crazy it was that they had a PB&J sandwich on the show while you were watching and eating the same thing is not. The first one will make me laugh, and the second will make me want to hurt you.

Side note 2: The moment it becomes obvious that you care way too much about the lives of celebrities, you will be placed in the same category as this guy:

Can you see me seeing you? I hope not.

Judging through your peripherals

It's high time I divulged some of the tricks of the trade to those who read my blog. The most important part about being an effective judger is being fully aware of your surroundings, and the best way to do that is knowing how to use your peripherals. This is much like Steve Carrell's character is instructed to do in 40 Year Old Virgin when trying to scope out women, but way more entertaining.

This past weekend, I was at a Barnes and Noble because I really had to use the restroom and had been driving around for a good hour and twenty minutes while 1) trying to fight off being exhausted, and 2) drinking a large Bojangle's sweet tea. Anyway, I'm in the bathroom washing my hands, and out of the corner of my eye I see another guy come over and stand in front of the mirror. He isn't close enough to the sink to be washing his hands, so I use my peripherals and notice that he's posing in front of the mirror. And this isn't just any pose. He's checking out his biceps. Then he pulls a comb out of his pocket and proceeds to brush his hair. I timed the drying of my hands so that I could get a legitimate look at this fellow, and lo and behold, the dude is probably mid to late forties, wearing a skin-tight Underarmour shirt (which showcases his upside-down triangle-shaped torso) tucked into black jeans. The hair he's combing? Greasy and black, pulled back into a ponytail. Now, we all know my feelings on long hair on guys, so I don't need to explain how that made me feel. His hairdo was especially amusing, though, because his amateur ponytail job left two ringlets where his hair stopped and his neck began. I had to stop and take a second to process, and also to figure out at what point I had left Barnes and Noble and entered a Wal-Mart.

In conclusion, old meatheads with greasy hair are all-around gross. And using your peripherals to do pre-judging means you can avoid the awkward "Oh shit, he saw me looking... Now I have to give him the half smile and nod and hope he didn't see my look of distaste" thought process.

I'm Sorry, I Couldn't Hear You Over Your Misguided Musical Taste

I’m Judging You: You think the Glee version of [insert Broadway song] is better than the original version

If you know me well (alright, if you know me at all!), then you know that I love Glee. The music is a lot of fun, and the plot is corny as hell… it’s pretty much the perfect storm of mindless television. Still, there’s one thing that I cannot wrap my mind around, and that is people thinking that the Glee version of a Broadway song is better than the original. I’m not saying that the Glee cast cannot sing, or that they don’t do a good job, but you have to realize that, in making such a claim, you are admitting two things: 1) you know nothing about music, and 2) you need your opinion-making power on music revoked.

Full disclosure: This started off as a post about thinking any Glee song was better than the original, but I soon remembered that Lea Michele covered “Take a Bow,” and to the contrary of the rest of this post, if you don’t think she sings it better than Rhi Rhi, there’s something wrong with you.

Here’s the general trend for songs: Songs from musicals >>> Glee songs >>> generic pop songs. There’s a fourth category of “classic” songs, but those don’t have a concrete place in the trend chart because they can be hit or miss.

If you look up any song from a musical that was covered by Glee on YouTube, though, you will undoubtedly see a debate in the comments about which version is better. All that these debates tell me is that the next generation lacks any sense of musical taste. Though, to be fair, I could have gleaned that from the fact that they all are currently obsessed with Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, and Ke$ha. Here are two reasons why your arguments are not valid:

1.  And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going: Amber Riley vs. Jennifer Holliday. I’m going to go ahead and pretend that this wasn’t even a question. Listen to both versions, because you clearly haven’t if you think Glee did it better.

2. Rose’s Turn: Chris Colfer vs. Bette Midler/Ethel Merman/Bernadette Peters? Really? I’m not saying Chris and Amber don’t do well in their versions of these songs, but just that they’re like amateur hour when it comes to these songs.

I could probably write an entire book about why today’s music trends are awful and why people should be judged for them, but I’ll leave it here with a cursory glance at all the people who use Glee as a springboard to “explore” new music. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them think Glee did it first. And for that, I judge you.

Everybody's Judging for the Weekend

Here are a few short entries!


I’m Judging You: Truck in front of me on the way into work

Not only were you the size of a small U-Haul truck, preventing me from seeing anything ahead of you, but your brake lights were also out. As much fun as it was to almost crash into you as you slowly stopped for the traffic that I couldn’t see, it’s even more fun to not have a heart attack in the morning.

I’m Judging You: You say “lol” in person

That’s fun for no one, and it makes you less of a real person. Just stop.

I’m Judging You: Passive-aggressive people. On Facebook.

Newsflash! Middle school takes place from about fifth grade to seventh grade. If you have a problem with someone, posting it as a cryptic status update on a public forum does absolutely nothing. Actually, that’s a lie, it does do SOMETHING. It gives me another reason to delete you. (And no, this segment is not geared at anyone in particular, though I do appreciate the irony of a passive aggressive blog post about passive aggressiveness)

I’m Judging You: You’re at the club but you won’t dance

Standing off to the side at a club and watching/judging everyone else there is fun, and we all do it. But, if you’re at a club for more than, say, an hour, and all you do is lean against the wall watching people who are dancing and maybe eyeing them creepily, I’m gonna need you to go ahead and leave. I may be on the dance floor acting a fool, but I still see you, and my spectacular dance moves do nothing to impair my judging skills.

I’m Judging You: Guys who feel they need a reason to wear pink

You don’t.

Happy Friday!

Who Doesn't Love Dick's?

Seriously, that title wrote itself. And my bad on taking so long to write another blog entry. Good news is that I'll have a Friday Shorts entry tomorrow! Anyway, onto the entry...

I'm Judging You: Insecure shopping men

I recently found myself in a Dick’s Sporting Goods, and I realized that my post last week judging girls who bring guys shopping, while true, wasn’t the whole story. Guys in general don’t like shopping. Maybe they think it’s a sign of weakness? Maybe they’re afraid to ask if the store carries that 240-piece tool set in a different color? Regardless, walking into a sporting goods store, you would expect to see lots of happy-go-lucky guys, looking at sporting equipment, giddy with anticipation to go try it out.

Wrong.

I’m glad I didn’t have a ruler on me, because I think most of the guys in the store would have run over to “whip it out” and size themselves up.* Everyone walked around with puffed up chests and serious facial expressions, refused to make eye contact with anyone else, and carried everything in their arms instead of using a basket or a shopping cart (probably a “while I’m here, I might as well get a few other things” scenario). I guess it makes the people watching that much better, but last time I checked, going shopping is not a life or death matter. Are you worried people are going to judge you based on what you’re buying? Stop worrying! That’s preposterous! I’m going to judge you regardless.

In conclusion, shopping does not get you judged. Breathing does.

*- I stand by this statement… no one in the store was that good looking, meaning I didn’t really want to see anything more than I was already seeing.

Friday Shorts: Travel-Sized Judging!

There are many things that I judge that aren’t really worthy of entire blog posts. I figured Fridays are the perfect days to submit a handful of these observations. This first post will be somewhat general, but from now on I’ll keep a list each week of the things I see/judge and then pick my favorites.

I’m Judging You: Man with no social skills
I stood behind this guy in the checkout line at the store, and he insisted on talking to the cashier about the product he was buying. I think it was yogurt or something. Proceeded to tell her a story about it, and all the cashier did was smile, nod, and provide a couple “mhm” responses. Learn how to read your audience, sir!

I’m Judging You: Justin Bieber fans
… Do I really need a reason for this one?

I’m Judging You: Jorts wearers
Jorts are never appropriate on guys unless they’re meant as a joke or are part of a costume. This makes trips to the mall entertaining, because I spend half my time trying to figure out why so many men are already preparing for Halloween.

I’m Judging You: People who update their facebook status 5+ times per day
Seriously, that’s what Twitter is for. I got a Twitter account a little over a year ago, and not only is it fun since you have to be creative to get your message across in 140 characters, but you can follow celebrities and laugh at the ridiculous shit they say (case in point: Kanye West). I guess what I’m trying to say is: get on my level.
(Sidenote: My twitter name is badams725, and I think I’m pretty entertaining, so feel free to follow me!)

I’m Judging You: Nickelback fans…
… still.

Happy Friday!

I'll take "Sad and Miserable" for $400 please, Alex.

I'm judging you: Girls who bring their boyfriends shopping

There's no beating around the bush with this one. It hurts me inside to see girls shopping and dragging their boyfriends along. Part of me feels bad for the guy for being in the situation, and part of me is laughing at him for letting himself get in the situation. As far as I can tell, there is no good outcome of a couple's shopping trip. If the guy declines to go in the first place, he doesn't like spending time with his girlfriend. If he gives feedback when prompted, he will most likely say something that comes out wrong and becomes offensive to the girl. If he goes but declines to comment, then he doesn't care about the girl. Lastly, if he goes and is helping pick out outfits, then... let's just say that couple needs to have a somewhat more serious chat.

A while ago, I was at Forever 21 with my roommates on a random shopping trip. I was giving superb advice to them as they were picking out clothes, as can be seen here:

Classy? Of course. I'm available for fashion consulting by appointment only.

Anyway, I was astounded at the number of guys who were in the store with their girlfriends, lumbering two or three steps behind them, looking miserable. I know they couldn't have been there in the same capacity I was, because I was enjoying playing pretend dress up with the roomies, and these other guys looked like they were seconds away from running to the nearest hardware store to grab their nuts (… and bolts) and regain some masculinity. If anything, listen to what I say because not doing so will result in your life being narrated by the following re-worked Destiny's Child lyrics:

Ladies, leave your man at home.
The [mall] is full of [shoppers] and their [judgement's] full [blown].
And all you fellas [send] your girl with her friends.
'Cause [you can't hide your feelings] and [yo' ass is trippin' trippin']

When Hairy met Sally. She's a hair stylist.

I’m Judging You: Men with Long Hair.

Fact: Really long hair looks good on no one. Even Rapunzel would agree with me on that one. Once hair gets past a certain point, it just looks gross. I’ll change my tune on that when I see someone with well-kept hair that goes down to the small of his/her back.

EDIT: This was brought to my attention recently, and only further proves my point.

On guys, though, anything past shoulder-length is just wrong. Even shoulder-length is pushing it, but I didn’t have another good reference point for length that was shorter than that but didn’t involve the term “buzzed.” Long hair takes a lot more effort to maintain, and I can count the number of men in the world who have that sort of patience for taking care of their hair on no hands. Find a celebrity that you think looks good with long hair, and I will give you an example of a time when he had shorter hair and looked much better. Case in point? Brad Pitt (Interview with a Vampire vs. Ocean’s Eleven). So, gents, do yourself a favor and get your hair cut. Or join a Renaissance fair. Your choice.

As per usual, I should note my biases on the subject. When I was younger (11 or so), I attempted to grow out my hair so that I could be more like Hanson. This was around the time that I really wanted to be a famous singer, and I thought I sounded somewhat like them (well, I attempted to… puberty soon hit, though, and my falsetto could only carry me so far). Unfortunately, I soon realized a few things. First, having hair long enough to cover the top of my ears annoys the hell out of me. Second, my thick, wavy hair gives me a fro that Lenny Kravitz would enjoy. Thus ended my dream of being like Hanson. At least I jumped the track early, before I attempted to marry a girl and have a kid before my 20th birthday…

I Don't Want Anybody Else. When I Think About You, I Judge Myself.

As much fun as it is judging other people, I’d have to say judging myself is high up on my “activities I like to do” list. Also high up on the list? Watching random YouTube videos of people singing popular songs. Some are better than the original, and some make me want to clog my ears permanently. Maybe I’ll do a blog post some day and show you what I mean. But yeah, I figured it's only fair that if I'm going to publish a blog where I thrust my judging opinions into the spotlight, I might as well make fun of myself in the process.

Judging Myself: I sing in the car.

I actually think singing is a vast understatement. I get really into songs when I’m by myself in my car. It’s sort of how some people sing in the shower because they assume the running water muffles their voice and no one in the vicinity of the bathroom can hear them… I’ve decided that my car is completely sound-proof (it’s not), and that my windows are tinted (they’re not).

Now, you may be thinking, “big deal, so you sing along with songs while you’re driving, why is this judgment-worthy?” And you would be correct… singing along with songs isn’t a big deal, and I’d even do that with other people in the car. But I have no shame when I’m by myself.

I recently bought a car, and it came with 3 months of free XM radio. Upon browsing the stations, I came up with a fantastic lineup of stations for my pre-sets: 20 on 20, 90s on 9, a couple mix stations, a hip hop station, and On Broadway. This last one is hit or miss, because sometimes they play obscure songs that put me to sleep, but they also play all the showstoppers that make me love musicals. One of my favorite songs that I’ve heard on this station (and the reason for this story) is I Am Changing, as performed by Jennifer Hudson and as featured in Dream Girls. I guess this is a double-judgment post, because not only can you judge me for my car-singing, but you can also judge me for thinking that I can sing like a diva.

When the song comes on, I don’t sing along with Jennifer Hudson. Oh no. I AM Jennifer Hudson. This comes complete with hand waving, head shaking, and me belting every note. (Side note: even with me getting really into the music, I still drive better than most of the idiots on the North Carolina roads) If anyone bothered to look over at me, they might be confused as to why I was driving around with my mouth wide open. I’m not going to try and convince you that I’m as good as Jennifer Hudson. But for a white boy, I think I have a pretty good set of pipes. Too bad I’m not gonna be getting cast in “Dream Girls” any time soon.

My old voice teacher used to have to try all sorts of techniques to get me to loosen up when I was performing. I guess I should have told her sitting me in a car by myself does the trick.

Using Your Words. Well, Some of Your Words

First off, I would like to point out the irony involved in writing a blog post about people using long, obnoxious words in conversations. I suppose it would be more ironic if 1) this was a conversation, and 2) I was using a more pretentious vocabulary. Luckily for all of us, I don’t feel like being hypocritical today, so we can just appreciate the irony that could have been.

I was walking to my car after work yesterday, and behind me were two women, probably a few years older than I, chatting about some random subject (believe it or not, I was trying not to eavesdrop. Oh, alright, I started to, but whatever they were talking about was boring). I bring this up because one of the sentences I remember hearing was:

“… and that was when I started to get feelings of pure remorse.”

Um, really?

Here’s what I don’t understand. Why, in a regular conversation, do people find it necessary to use twenty complicated words to describe something when three simple ones would suffice? Would she have lost credibility if she just said “… and that was when I started feeling guilty.” Do conversations now have minimum word counts?

Now, I know not everyone is good at telling stories, and I’m thankful for that because it makes me mildly more entertaining. Keep in mind, though, that people for the most part don’t have large attention spans. If I’m having a conversation with someone, and they go on a two minute word vomit-fest trying to say that they feel badly about something, I’m probably going to end up tuning out and thinking about how many different ways he/she could have saved time and said the same exact thing.

Similarly, if words that I don’t know get used, then my mind will get taken over by a toy monkey playing with cymbals. That’s only partially meant as a joke… I really do have a toy monkey that plays cymbals in my head. I call him Fred. I see enough of Fred at work (YOU listen to a presentation about nitrification for an hour after not having thought about subject for at least two years and tell me that Fred doesn’t come visit you), so please do me a favor and help me keep him away when he isn’t necessary.

White Men Can't Dance

Yes, I realize that I just incriminated myself as well with that title. I like to consider myself an exception to the rule. And of course, by “I like to consider myself,” I mean “I am.” The pedestal I'm on is lonely, but I make do.

Aaaaanyway, one of my favorite pastimes is people watching. I think deep down, we all really enjoy this, but some of us are more perceptive than others, which really adds to the experience. Bars and clubs are great places for people watching because, well, anything involving the consumption of alcohol means plenty of extraordinary opportunities for commentary. I was recently at a club, and a point that I’ve known for quite some time became incredibly evident:

White men can’t dance.

Note that this is not me saying that men of other races can inherently dance. I’m just saying that the majority of white guys that I saw at this club did not know how to dance in a way that didn’t hurt to watch. I’m pretty sure my muscles were spasming (my word processor is yelling at me for using this as a word, but I like it, so it’s staying) just watching them. I thought it would be a good idea to list a few of the more seriously offensive dance types here so that readers of TJL can know what sort of dance moves will get you judged.

1) Swaying – You are not seaweed. Your feet move. Use them, please.
2) Shoulder action – In combination with other things, moving your shoulders is a good thing. If it looks like you’re trying to shrug off the song, then you’re gonna run into problems.
3) Jumping – Granted, there are songs where jumping around is warranted (like, “Jump Around” by House of Pain), but for the most part, people dancing around you would appreciate not worrying about their safety every time they catch you up in the air out of the corners of their eyes.
4) ANY dancing while not smiling/interacting with anyone – If you are “in the zone,” you will be watched. Period. I once witnessed a guy (on multiple occasions) clear off a portion of the dance floor while dancing by himself. And this wasn’t people moving out of the way to watch because he was really good… it was people getting used as props in whatever music video was going on in the dude’s head and then running away scared. Shit was crazy. The moral of the story here is that if you dance on your own, make sure you either know what you’re doing, or… don’t dance on your own.

I suppose that in lieu of avoiding the aforementioned dance techniques, you could just accept the fact that people will be checking you out regardless of how well you dance since you’re in public. In fact, this works for me, because it gives me more to watch. But I felt it was my civic duty as a new blogger to bring up this subject, and hopefully help steer our generation away from dancing like Elaine and more towards having moves like Usher.

Nickelback. AKA "That Group That Makes My Ears Bleed"

I am pretty lenient about the music I listen to (in the presence of others, at least. When I'm by myself, I don't "listen to music" as much as I "skip through songs until I find one I like"). I can tolerate bad songs if I like the artist (half of Mariah Carey's new stuff), and I can tolerate bad artists if I like the song (anything by Miley Cyrus. Or Ke$ha. Damn her for having catchy songs!). But if a song or artist violates both aspects, then the only thing I can do is make sure I never have to listen to them again. Such is the case with Nickelback.

Where to begin with this group? I guess we'll start with the artist. The lead singer of the group has a raspy voice that sounds like it had been through years of smoking and other similarly awful traumas before being used for singing. That's a definite strike one. There's that old saying “Those that can't do, teach,” which would lead me to suggesting that he becomes a music teacher. Well, even music teachers can sing well, so I don't really know what to tell him.

And then there are the songs... or as I like to call them, lyrical procrastination at its worst. Have you ever looked closely at the lyrics to a Nickelback song? Here's the first verse to “Photograph”:

Look at this photograph

Every time I do it makes me laugh

How did our eyes get so red?

And what the hell is that on Joey's head?

I don't know whether to laugh at the fact that the first graders I used to tutor could write better lyrics than this, or cry at the fact that crap like this is considered good in the pop world.

Going back to a previous example of a song I tolerate, Party in the U.S.A is only a good song at a club, when everyone is wasted and sings along like they're all teenage girls dancing in front of their mirrors singing into a hairbrush (given my gender and current status as a member of the work force and not a teenager, my assumption that teenage girls do this is most likely incorrect... but it got the visual in your head, didn't it?). But a song by Nickelback is painful to listen to when you're sober and in the car, when you're at work listening to music online, or even when you're wasted and at a club. In fact, if I ever heard Nickelback playing in a club, I would probably start a boycott right then and there until the DJ issued a formal apology for having bad taste.

The only other song/artist that comes to mind that I have this strongly a reaction to? "LOL Smiley Face" by Trey Songz. I have nothing against him, I just hold a strong moral standpoint against using emoticons as lyrics.

Observation: I just started a blog.

Well hello there! I'm Brian. This is my blog. This is a sentence. Phew, good, we got the introductory statements out of the way.

I decided to start this blog because 1) I'm funny, 2) Writing is fun, but keeping a diary puts me to sleep, and 3) I don't want to deprive the general public of my wittiness any longer.

Okay, the third one was just a filler. Yes, I'm witty, but I don't really care if the world knows. I just think lists are only worth it if you have three or four points.

Anyway, here at The Judging Life, my aim is to provide sarcastic, mostly true, and fairly logical social commentary. I'll refrain from posting updates about my favorite TV shows or what I had for lunch today (after all, that's what Twitter's for, isn't it?). I MAY even get guest bloggers to give their own commentary, provided it lives up to my impossibly high standards of humor.* But rest assured... everything posted on here will be judgmental in one way or another (including some jabs at myself, I'm sure) without calling anyone out (except myself, since it's difficult to take a jab at yourself without doing so, and I know that I'll forgive myself eventually).

Eventually I'll fill out the thing in the sidebar that describes my blog, making this whole post obsolete and turning the two hours 30 minutes 45 seconds it took for me to write it into a waste of time. Don't worry... when that time comes, I'll be sure to judge myself accordingly.

*In the interest of full disclosure, my standards aren't that high... I still chuckle at bad puns.