5 Reasons Why Bert and Ernie Shouldn't Get Married

Disclaimer: This post assumes basic knowledge of Sesame Street. If you are not aware of what Sesame Street is, you did your childhood wrong, and I implore you to have kids right away and force them to watch Sesame Street with you fill yourself in on it right here.

Since New York legalized same-sex marriage, someone started a petition to have Bert and Ernie get married. While I understand the sentiment, I must intervene here and explain why this is a stupid idea. Without further adieu:

TJL's Five Reasons Why Bert and Ernie Shouldn't Get Married

1. Bert has a unibrow. I mean, really, the only people who think unibrows are sexy are people who have them. And Diego Rivera. Props to you if you understood that last joke.

2. There is plenty of documentation of Ernie's love of his rubber ducky. There is also documentation of Bert doing a pigeon dance. This difference in aviary preferences are enough to turn any marriage, same sex or not, completely fowl. Also, anyone who has ever been in the vicinity of a pigeon knows not to trust anyone who actually likes them.

3. Have you seen the sweaters these two guys wear? Would you REALLY want to bear witness to a wedding where they're the ones choosing the clothes?

4. Neither one of them has a job. Last time I checked, the sole purpose of getting married was to combine assets so that the poorer individual has access to the richer individual's income. Also last time I checked, 0+0=0.

5. Ernie is actually in love with Oscar. How often is it that you meet a guy whose "eau du toilette" actually smells like the literal translation of that term? Plus, I heard a rumor that Oscar's garbage can is lined with gold. I don't want to reveal my source, but it only took me two chocolate chip cookies to coerce the information from him.

Kidding aside, I would like to remind everyone that Sesame Street is a CHILDREN'S SHOW. The little ones need to learn about numbers, colors, letters, how to share, and how to create imaginary wooly mammoth friends. I'm 95% sure no one on Sesame Street is married, anyway. Doing a Sesame Street episode where Bert and Ernie get married would be akin to inviting Michael Vick to appear on Blues Clues to tell kids about the perils of dogfighting. Sure, it could happen, but there's no need.

If Bert and Ernie get a spinoff on ABC Family, feel free to start a petition. That channel seems to love anything and everything that has to do with pushing boundaries. Until then, I'm gonna pull a Chris Crocker and tell you to LEAVE SESAME STREET ALONE!

The Unofficial (But Mandatory) Rules of Karaoke

Karaoke. 

Half of you just squirmed in your seat, and the other half jumped up in excitement. (And probably a portion of both groups squirmed when they read the word "squirmed," but I digress.)

Karaoke is a fun bar activity. Among other things, it's a chance for people to bring songs back from the dead. And who doesn't like dead songs! Usually, after a few drinks, people's inhibitions have lowered enough to where they don't mind getting up in front of a crowd of strangers to belt out/mumble "Build Me Up, Buttercup." After my past few karaoke encounters, however, I realized that not many people know about the unofficial rules of karaoke. These rules are unofficial in the same way rules about wearing jorts (Jorts Rule 1: don't wear them. Jorts Rule 2: See 1) are unofficial; most people intuitively understand, so the rules don't get explained very often. For the few who were unaware of Karaoke Rules, this post is for you!

I had to bring back this picture. Had to.

Rules for Individuals Doing Bar Karaoke

Rule 1: Thou shalt not sing more than two songs.
In most situations, not everyone at the bar is there for karaoke. To them, you are background noise. They aren't critiquing your riffs (though they will notice if you're tone deaf. So will all of the dogs within a one-mile radius of the bar). I've created a graph to help illustrate the thoughts of those around you as you get up to sing more and more songs.

There aren't talent scouts at your local bar listening to people singing karaoke, and it isn't amateur hour or open mic night. You have no reason to sing more than two songs.

Rule 2: Song Choices Must Be Fun
Do you enjoy singing old school Mariah Carey ballads? That's great! Leave them in the shower. You're at a bar, people are drinking and having a good time, and no one wants to watch you belt out "that song that they sang on Glee a few weeks ago."

This is (definitely probably) not you. If it is you, feel free to come and sing for me any time!

Rule 3: YOU Must Have Fun
Ultimately, if you look like you're having fun while singing, it's going to be enjoyable for everyone. If you grab the microphone as if you're performing at The Grammy's and spend the entire song staring intently at the screen to make sure you get every word, you might as well go and sing to yourself in the mirror. True story.... I once watched a girl sing Bad Romance like this. Her friends, who were clearly more in tune with the unofficial karaoke rules, attempted to jump up with her, dance around her, and help her loosen up while singing. She continued to stare at the screen and choke the microphone. It reminded me of when Kevin sang "You Oughta Know" on The Office.

Rules for Groups Doing Bar Karaoke

Group karaoke is an automatic win. No rules are necessary (other than the "don't sing every song in the DJ's library" one). Some pointers for a successful group performance are:
1. Have at least one person who has had plenty to drink and who believes it's necessary to provide a dance interlude.
2. Shoving the microphone into random people's faces is highly encouraged.

None of the aforementioned rules apply when doing private karaoke. If it's just you and your friends in a small room with a karaoke machine, go to town!

Like Mary J Says, No More Drama

How many times have you seen messages like this (more than likely with multiple misspellings)? They're particularly prominent on dating websites and social media sites. They always give me a hearty chuckle, because these decrees last for an hour, maybe two. I'm pretty sure in the interim, this happens:

The moral of the story is that publicly declaring your intent to not pay attention to/partake in drama (or anything else for that matter) makes you more sensitive to it. A good parallel would be vegetarianism. People who follow strict vegetarian diets become more sensitive to meat and meat products when scoping out which foods they can eat, and friends might forget about the restrictions when offering food to their vegetarian friends. For example, some corn chowder has bacon in it! This is a nice surprise for us omnivores, but herbivores would not take too kindly to said surprise. (As an aside, this would be the moment when I would offer to eat my herbivore friend's portion of corn chowder, thus doubling the amount of win I get! Brian: 2, Herbivore Friend: 0)

... I was making a point, but I got distracted by bacon.

Oh right... Drama. Drama is only a big deal if you make it one. If you devote your time to updating "the world" (read: the 2% of your Facebook friends who haven't hidden your status updates yet) about being "over drama" and calling out (passive aggressively, of course!) those who you perceive to be causing drama, you're in for a rough time. Just follow Jill Scott's lead and let the haters keep hatin'. While it won't be as fun for people like me when trying to judge you*, at least we can both take solace in the fact that you're happier!

Being awesome isn't a choice. It's a lifestyle.

*-Let's be honest, you'll probably still be rocking cargo shorts, or attempting to wear leggings as pants, or trying to convince me that the Glee cover of "Friday" was better than the original. (News flash: dolphins were killed when both versions were produced. Also, I'd rather you kept the drama in your life than try to have this conversation with me, but thanks for playing!)

Yes, We Get It, You Have Legs

Ladies, we need to have a little chat. Come on in, take a seat, and we'll get right into it.

Leggings are NOT pants.

I know many of you enjoy how "in shape" you are from the waist down, and that's fine. That's what skinny jeans are for! To me, women wearing leggings in public is equivalent to men wearing gym shorts in public. Sure, it happens, but the second I see gym shorts, that individual loses any and all credibility when it comes to anything.

 

If you're on your way to or from the gym, I might be able to cut you some slack. Maybe. You'll probably have to be wearing flashy leg-warmers, an over-sized t-shirt, and a neon-colored sports bra and perform something from Flash Dance for me, though.

What has me hating leggings so much, you ask? A couple months ago, I was wandering the mall and getting some mild exercise, both in the cardio sense and the judging sense. I passed by some random clothing store, and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw someone chilling at the entrance of the store, naked from the waist down. I gave the prospective scandal my full attention, and what did I see? Oh, not much, just a girl in leggings.

Skin colored leggings.

That's just wrong on so many levels. So. Many. Levels. I can think of exactly zero instances when it is acceptable to wear skin colored (non-stocking) garments in public. Next time that happens, I might be obliged to have the following interaction:

Walking through the mall, spot individual in skin colored leggings. Walk two steps past said individual, stop, turn and yell:

Me: OH MY GOD, SHE'S N--

Turn to face the individual, who's probably turning bright red, or is as confused as ever.

Me: Oh, sorry dear, I thought you were naked from the waist down. Turns out your... pants... blend right on in with your skin. How silly of me! Have a nice day!

Walk away.

Translation? Sorry I'm not sorry.

This Post Really Socks

Oh, hello there!

It's been a long time. Shouldn't have left you (left you... Without a dope beat to step to).

You'd think that in my hiatus from writing, I'd have so much to tell you! Unfortunately, aside from a rant about incompetent Wal-Mart employees (blog post coming soon), I don't have many situational posts forthcoming. I guess I need to get out more!

For today, though, here's the first installment of TJL's Clothing Etiquette. This one is all about socks, more specifically how annoying white socks are.

I'll start off by saying that, contrary to what you might believe, you are not Michael Jackson, so any argument you have for wearing white socks with dress shoes (or any shoes that aren't athletic sneakers) is invalid. Here's a re-iteration of that point, in Venn diagram form!



The glimmer of a white sock is as bad for my vision as the blinding effects of the high beams that the idiots who always seem to drive behind me leave on at all times. It's just unnecessary. I appreciate the perceived versatility of white socks, but to me that's like saying salt is an acceptable flavoring agent for any and all food. Sure, it works, but there are so many other spices that you can use in certain dishes that will make them much better. You're also less likely to get weird looks.

Here's what you do:
1. Go to ANY store that sells socks.
2. Buy a few pairs each of socks that either match your shoes, or at least have similar colors in them.
3. Wear said socks when the time is appropriate.

If you're feeling REALLY creative, you can always purchase multicolored socks, or sock with patterns. Socks can be as much of a statement as a new button down shirt!*

... Well, unless your socks are just white socks. Then your statement is "I'm lazy."

And please, PLEASE, do not try and make a case for white socks with white shoes just to spite me. Yes, you're following the "socks should match the shoes" rule, but you're also wearing white shoes, so I can only assume that you're a nurse or a senior citizen.

That's it for now! Don't say I didn't warn you about wearing those white socks out in public!

*- The "socks can make a statement" line was pretty much for girls only. Fellas, no one wants to see your socks unless you have to pull up your pant leg to show them, or unless you're playing a sport where soccer socks are appropriate. The "shorts with tube socks" look for guys fell out of style ten minutes before the first guy decided he'd go around sporting it.

Super Bowl 45- The Day Live Music Died?

If you follow me on Twitter and/or haven't hidden my status updates on Facebook (yet), you probably already know what I'm gonna say in this post. Last night was the Super Bowl, and when the football game wasn't interrupting, we all were hoping to be entertained by commercials and music. In preparation for live-blogging the Academy Awards at the end of the month, I thought I'd provide some commentary about last night. Step two for preparing will be figuring out to actually update a live blog entry. Without further ado:

The Judging Life's Superbowl Commentary

• Lea Michele sings "America The Beautiful." This is probably one of the most boring patriotic songs we have. Everyone knows the girl can sing, so therefore any aspect of the performance that was lackluster can be blamed on the song, right?
• Christina Aguilera sings the National Anthem. People, she messed up like three words. Hate on her if you want, at least she sounded decent while doing it! If you would like examples of how the National Anthem SHOULD sound, though, I'd invite you to listen to Jennifer Hudson, or the gold standard version by Whitney Houston. If those don't get your diva hand going, I don't know what will.
• The Commercials. I was incredibly underwhelmed by the commercials this year. The only ones that I remember enough to say I enjoyed are the Doritos commercial where he brings the grandfather back to life, the Pepsi Max commercial where the dude's wife knocks the female runner out with a full can of soda, and the VW/Darth Vader commercial (this link is for the minute-long commercial... a lot better than the 30 second version). The rest were either really bad, or only minimally funny.
• Snickers was on point last year with its Betty White and Aretha Franklin commercials, but they missed the mark this year by trying to do the same thing in a less funny way. Proof positive that you can't just stick with something because it worked once (or twice).
• Go Daddy also sucks.
• Halftime Show. I'm a fan of the Black Eyed Peas. Their music is incredibly catchy, and tops my list of fun songs that are great to sing along with/dance to at clubs. Plus, my apartment number last year was 3008, so "Boom Boom Pow" was my anthem. Having said that...
• The BEP are not good live. Feel free to blame it on microphone problems, but I don't think a correctly-functioning microphone could have saved us from Fergie's... "singing."
• I want Taboo's light-up suit. I have no idea when I'd wear it, though.
• Oh, who am I kidding? I'd rock that ish at all times.
• I was really confused when "Sweet Child of Mine" started playing.
• Then I was happy when Slash appeared.
• Then I was sad when Fergie started singing.
• When "O.M.G" started, my first thought was "did they seriously hide the fact that Usher was going to be performing with them?" Then he appeared, and I was impressed with the secrecy
• Then Usher DIDN'T SING. They brought in Usher to be a background dancer for a minute and a half!
• The commercial for the movie Rio makes it look an awful lot like "Happy Feet 2: Fiesta en México."
• I missed Cameron Diaz feeding A-Rod. Luckily, the internets know entertainment, and it's already on YouTube! Hopefully this link doesn't get taken down too soon.

That's all I have! Did I miss any good commercials, or other excellent moments in judgement? Feel free to provide your own commentary in the comments section below.

Jingle Jingle!

I don't think any working experience is truly complete without stories of a coworker that just doesn't seem to be "all there." I'm lucky with my current job... My desk is situated next to one of the most absent-minded people I've ever met.

My coworker doesn't make it into the office until 10. At the earliest. His presence is always announced by the jingling of keys when he's about 20 feet away from his office door. That's about how long it takes him to fish out the right key. I'm thinking he played the part of Filch in a previous job.

He seems to be paranoid, too... it's rare for him to keep his door unlocked. Or open. Even when he's in his office. I'm not quite sure what he thinks he has to hide from the rest of our division, but it must be something pretty good.

He is rarely in his office for more than an hour. I have no idea what sends him on his merry way so often... it's probably a mixture of meetings, catching up with scientists in other areas, or looking for more keys to add to his key ring. Oh, and going to the cafeteria to get food. This is one of his favorite daily activties. Both breakfast and lunch come from the cafeteria. Getting the food into his office, though, is still a very challenging task.

Then, there's the printing. The printer in my area is shared by 13 people. 99.99999% of all printing jobs are from this one coworker. And it isn't that everyone else rarely prints... it's mostly that he is printing documents at all times. Our printer runs out of paper daily, and ink weekly. He also has a tendency to print stuff and leave it on the printer for hours before going to pick it up. The skill I'm most impressed with is his ability to print when he's not in the office. I've heard the printer going at 9:30, and then half an hour later, he rolls into the office, grabs the stuff off the printer, and jingle-jingles into his office.



An accurate interpretation of his office thanks to all of his printing.

My favorite part comes at the ends of some work days. The door opens, he saunters out and closes the door behind him, making sure it's locked. After taking five steps away from his door, he remembers that he forgot something in his office. He returns to his office, checks the door again only to find that (surprise!) it's locked. He sighs (something that he does more often than regular breathing), reaches into his pocket, jingle-jingles his keys to find the right one, and re-enters his office to grab whatever is is that he forgot.

The moral of the story? Locking your office door during the day does nothing but cause problems.

Second Grader See, Second Grader Do

Cartoons were a big part of my childhood, just like they probably were for most of you who read my blog. Saturday mornings weren't for sleeping in... they were for sneaking out into the living room, turning on the TV at a low volume, and staring at Looney Toons, or Power Rangers, or the myriad other shows that had weekend morning airtime.

Yes, my attempt at drawing Bugs Bunny looks like a grey Teletubby. Moving on.

I moved to Vermont the summer before second grade, and for second grade I was put in the local public school. The private school I had attended in New York had a dress code, so I enjoyed the new-found freedom to wear what I wanted, and to not have to wear a tie. At one point, I even bought a pair of red Converse All-Star high-top sneakers.

The issue with this, of course, was that I was in second grade, and kids are mean. I had this one bully who insisted on calling me Clown Feet at recess every day. It never seriously phased me, considering he was the only one who called me that... I just found it annoying. I mean, red shoes are awesome, and my feet weren't that big, so what's the point of worrying about it?

Finally, one day at recess, this kid was incredibly persistent in trying to get me to chase after him or something. He wouldn't leave me alone and he kept yelling at me.

So, I took inspiration in the cartoons I so religiously watched. What was it that Bugs Bunny always did to Elmer Fudd to get him to leave him alone? Oh, right...

I waited until my bully got close.

... Then...

Now, I was somewhat sheltered as a child. Not "is he brainwashed?" sheltered, but sheltered enough to not understand how my plan of action was wrong or would be misconstrued as anything other than me trying to rid myself of another kid's ridicule. My bully, confused, went and told the teacher on recess duty, who asked me if I had kissed the other boy. I shrugged. She asked why I did it. I shrugged. And that was it.



Most importantly, that kid never teased me again.

When Facebook Friends Attack

I'll be the first to admit that I have too many Facebook friends. In my defense, I have met 99.9% of them in person at least once. That isn't the issue of this post, though. The issue is that I can't get myself to unfriend people.

I graduated from college almost two years ago (dammit, I'm getting old!), and I'm still friends with people from my freshman dorm, some of whom I haven't talked to since we lived near each other five years ago. I'm also friends with the friends of my siblings, a couple kids I used to babysit, and friends of friends. My standard policy is that if I've met you, I'll accept your friend request. And, like the glitter around Ke$ha's eyes, once you're there (in my list of facebook friends), it's difficult for me to take you off (... of my list of facebook friends). Here is a visual description:

Well... it's difficult, with the exception of the following list!

TJL's List of

No-Brainer Unfriending Situations

1. Ignorance.

I once had a friend who posted a status about a segment Oprah did on "Brothers on the down-low", basically accusing any and every man in the closet of getting infected with every STI imaginable and then "infecting his women."

I considered trying to correct him, but he's sort of cray cray on a Kanye level, so I decided the "unfriend" option was better.

2. Incessant Pessimism

I get it... we all have bad days. For whatever reason, some people like to harp on this more than others... to the point where every status is about how terrible the world is to them. If you look at your own profile page and it starts reading off like the lyrics to a really bad emo song, you're doing something wrong. You might also be that blob from the Zoloft commercials.

3. Facebook =/= Twitter

As soon as I got a Twitter account, I found that my status updates on Facebook dwindled. If I have something clever to say or announce that people might want to comment on, I'll post it to facebook. If I'm just being witty in general (read: always), or watching a sporting event and commenting in real time, then Twitter's the way to go. Still, there are way too many people who insist (insist!) on providing blow-by-blows of their days, or announcing that it's time for them to go to bed. These are usually the same people who think Twitter is stupid. I give them the side eye:

4. Bad Taste

I once had a friend who posted links to at least three songs each day, depending on his mood. I was fine with this at first, but after the third Miley Cyrus video was posted to express his inner angst at finding love, I made like Bon Qui Qui and decided "this dude needs ta go. Needs ta go."

As with any other list I make, there are always exceptions. For example, I could never find it in my heart to unfriend a family member, no matter how far removed from them I am.

... And that, my friends, is what the "Hide" button is for.

Why So Serious?

Today is sort of a difficult day for me. It’s the birthday of a fraternity brother of mine who passed away last October. Drew left a lasting impression on far too many people for me to even attempt to list. In his memory, I would like to write an entry using the same title he used for his editorial column in our college newspaper.

Alright, enough of the sappy… on to the funny!

Why so serious?

I’ve always maintained that the ability to laugh at yourself is one of the most important parts of enjoying life. How many of us wish we could go back to being kids, selling lemonade or bracelets we made with colored thread by day, playing hide and seek (or, kick the can! Anyone else? Anyone?) by night, and pretty much enjoying life to the fullest? What’s the difference between then and now?

Stop.

First off, all complaining by itself annoys me. Even when warranted, all that complaining does is display that you're not happy with your current situation. I can get bored real fast if all I'm hearing is "my life sucks" and "why am I always the one who has to go through stuff like this?" In the immortal words of Elvis, a little less conversation, a little more action.

Extreme? Yes. Effective? You betcha.

The main point here is that you're only as boring as you let yourself get. Unfortunately, most of us don't live in those nice little neighborhoods anymore, where Sally would go door-to-door every Saturday morning to recruit kids for a game of street kickball. We're adults now... we have to do shit for ourselves! Here's an example in musical form! (Thank you Broadway for musicals like Avenue Q!) Go make friends with your coworkers/neighbors! Sign up for an adult sports league! Post up at a bar and stare at every attractive individual that walks in!

... hmm, on second thought, don't do that last one, unless you're over 50 and single and out by yourself. People will probably think you're creepy anyway.

Do you know what the sign of a good day is? Being able to think back at the end of the day and listing off at least one thing that made you smile. So, get off the internets, call up a friend, and make your smile-worthy memory for the day! TJL will judge you if you don't.*

*- TJL will probably be judging you anyway, but you can reduce the number of "bad judging" moments by following my advice.

Translation: *Yawn*

Dating is tough, especially in the beginning stages. It'd be so much easier if you could weed out the crazies from the true contenders during the first date. Here at The Judging Life, we (... okay, I. Like I'd trust a staff to take care of my judging for me!) would like to help out with this endeavor!

Selling yourself to a potential significant other is a lot like trying to sell a house. No, that wasn't a crack at the size of your balcony or the (lack of) quality in your plumbing. What I mean is that there are nice ways of describing yourself so that you come off sounding a lot more appealing than being blunt. Here's a real estate example:

A house is described as being "cozy." Here's what comes to mind:

Here's what "cozy" is most likely being used to describe:

Poor Alice. She's not getting her deposit back!

Anyway, here are some handy tranlsations for statements you might hear when you first meet someone. Enjoy!

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.