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.