So You Think?

Okay, maybe I should start a separate blog just for SYTYCD. It’s a goldmine of stupid human tricks.

The latest was the girl who was put through to the Vegas round, and ran out the room screaming, as they all do, “I’m going to Vegas! Vegas!” Then she used some made up sign language to spell out the word as she shouted each letter.

“V-E-A-G-S! Vegas!”

Hey, nobody said it was called So You Think You Can Spell.

Hot Fun in the Summertime

Summer has hit. And even though I grew up in Texas, I HATE the heat. Actually, it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. And my little city just seems to get more and more like Houston every day in that department. Blech.

What that really means, though, is that I’m cranky. And my usual (low) tolerance for stupid people drops to an even lower threshold. So I was actually quite amused by what I witnessed yesterday.

I was on my way to buy a new pair of fat pants. Behind me in traffic is a beautiful woman in a black VW Beetle. Windows all the way down. Neckline down even further. Dewey fresh girls in full effect. She was jammin’ to some tune—I couldn’t hear what. And in between rhythmic gyrations, she power-primped. Fix the hair, check the teeth, lick the lips. I half expected her to whip out a blow dryer.

Suddenly, she turns and waves seductively at the car next to her. As traffic moves, this car takes the slot next to me. It is one of those pedophile panel vans being driven by a middle-aged African American dude. And he is SMILING like you wouldn’t believe. I guess the view into the Beetle was even more alluring from a higher vantage point. Maybe she wasn’t wearing panties. I kind of grossed myself out thinking of the various possibilities.

The man in the van gave me one of those looks that straight guys give each other. You know, the “check-it-out-Dude-I-could-so-get-me-some-of-that” look.

I looked back, mouthed the word “eww” and tried to inch up as close to the car in front of me as possible. I mean, do I LOOK LIKE I want to empathize with the pussy hound? I kept wishing I had a little rainbow flag. Or that I could tie my shirt off in a halter-esque way. Or maybe I just should have given him a taste of what she gave him and winked, smiled and blown him a kiss.

After all, the van did have privacy shades.

I Don't Think You Can Dance

My guilty summer TV is “So You Think You Can Dance.” There are so many young ‘uns who can just blow you away with their athleticism. I still think ballroom is the funniest looking thing in the dance world. There is NO WAY to look butch doing a cha cha cha.

Last night the judges even complimented one of the male dancers, who had done some ballroom with his partner, on how “masculine” he looked. Pretty subjective scale if you ask me. I’m surprised he didn’t answer “Thankssss, GIRL!”

The highlight came, though, from the stupid girl--a tall brunette. I didn’t get to see her performance, but her post-elimination interview was HI-larious. Of course, she was sad and bitter. She complained that the judges hadn’t even watched most of her performance (I’m guessing it was THAT bad). Then, searching for some excuse other than her own lack of talent, she decided that they hadn’t liked her because she was tall and towered over some of the males. Then, with a fully serious face, she said . . .

“I think they’re racist against tall people.”

Bless her heart. Tall people have feelings, too. But I guess I’m racist against stupid people. So there.

Must Be Lonely On the Mountaintop

I think Shakespeare had it right. In Hamlet, the Queen says “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

In the gay world, we’ve always used this quote to describe men who pronounce their heterosexuality—or denounce homosexuality--with a bit too much vigor. With this spring’s crop of moral conservatives meeting their hypocritical downfalls, it has made me start to think that this phrase applies to them, as well.

A conservative Congressman from New York gets busted for DUI on the way to visit his sick daughter. Awww. That’s sweet. Except that the sick daughter is the result of a years-long extramarital affair. And his wife and family knew nothing about it until the arrest. Oops.

“Family values. One man. One woman. Blahblahblah.”

Or the Dallas mega-church pastor who drove 200 miles to hook up with a 13-year old girl he met online. Turns out the whole thing was a police sting. Wah-wah!

He had even packed condoms. Too bad they won’t let him keep those in jail. Might keep him from becoming the NEXT pregnant man on Oprah.

“God’s word. Sin. Satan. Family values. Blahblahblah.”

Meanwhile, the same people who voted for one and flocked to the other have their panties in a ridiculously tight knot over the legalization of gay marriage in California.

I’m starting to think that maybe the religious right wingnuts should follow the example of the Puritans and set off to find a new home on distant shores. There, they could establish a strict, moral colony. They could trade beads with the natives and host communal meals of thanksgiving. Of course, we all know that eventually someone will wind up with a scarlet “A” on the back.

Some things just never change.

Too Bad They DIDN'T Shoot Each Other

There’s something about a man in uniform that just works for me. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but they just seem so well put together. So . . . authoritative.

Ironically, there is one profession that requires a uniform, and the guys seem to always look like the biggest doofs. I’m talking about security guards. Rentacops. Whose uniforms deny them the very thing they crave. A respect of their authority.

It’s like they buy the uniforms in bulk, then hand them out randomly, with no regard to a person’s actual clothing size. The uniforms are almost always ill-fitting, the fabrics nasty and cheap.

Ironically, it makes most of these men look like they’re playing dress up. And, sadly, many of the men who inhabit them suffer from delusions of real authority, reinforcing the dress up scheme.

So when frequent AOTSP commenter HOK forwarded me the story about a security guard and a restaurant owner who shot each other with Tasers, I got an immediate visual image. I wonder if cheap polyester conducts electricity?

The two men were arguing over a boot the security guard had put on one of the restaurants vans. Apparently, Rentacop felt the van was parked on the parking lot HE was hired to protect. So he booted it.

YOU WILL RESPECT MY AU-THOR-I-TIE! Or I will boot your ass, bitch.

During the heated exchange between the two “boneheads” (that’s the actual word the police used to describe them), the restaurant owner claims the man in the ill-fitting uniform placed his hand on his holstered GUN (are you fucking kidding me? They gave him a GUN?!?!?) and threatened to shoot.

The Rentacop acknowledged that he had placed his hand on the gun, but never threatened. As if the hand on the holstered gun doesn’t send a message that’s clear as a fucking bell.

YOU WILL RESPECT MY AU-THOR-I-TIE! Or I will shoot your ass, bitch!

In the end, they just whipped out their Tasers and stunned each other into submission. Apparently, neither possessed a penis worth brandishing.

C’mon! They Were Just Fartin’ Around.

Talk about an ill wind. An office worker in Deal, Kent (UK) was awarded a $10,000 settlement after having a male supervisor repeatedly fart in her general direction. Apparently, she was the only woman in the office, and was constantly subjected to such “laddish behaviour.”

Having been a manager for a good chunk of my professional career (obviously before I became a blogger), and having attended endless hours of various types of sensitivity training, I find this type of action to be reprehensible. It’s amazing to me that ANYONE actually still thinks this is okay behavior in the workplace. Although I did work with a woman who wore so much cheap perfume it made my throat seize up. I would have liked to fart on her, if only to stanch her odiferousness.

As a blogger, I find it fuckin’ hilarious! My mind immediately goes to a setting not unlike “The Office” (British or American, your pick), where one person (probably a Michael-type) farts at the Pam-type as a joke, but no one gets it.

Ah, that uncomfortable British humor. Slays me.

The tribunal who heard the case called it sexual discrimination. I call it junior high. The manager was probably just trying to flirt. Apparently, other hilarious hijinks ensued. Like the time they threw a beach ball at her head when she objected to sexist banter. (Why was there a beach ball in the office?).

Or the time her supervisor made her wear a badge that said, “I’m Simple” when she couldn’t figure something out on her computer.

What? No exposing of the penis head while pulling their pants pockets inside out, then asking, “Want to kiss the bunny on the nose?”

Amateurs.

Bad Parents in the News

This is beyond the shallow end of the gene pool. We’re talking kiddie pool depth, here.

Reports surfaced yesterday from Alice Springs, Australia (familiar to all Priscilla, Queen of the Desert Fans—and basically no one else outside of Australia) about a guy who put a seat belt around a case of beer to protect it, but failed to do the same for his toddler, who was also riding in the car.

The police were quoted as saying, “This is the first time that the beer has taken priority over a child.”

Obviously, they’ve never been to the American South.

Ironically, a quick google search turned up a similar incident this past February in Florida. A driver, who also happened to have two crack pipes in her purse (shocking, I know!), strapped a 24-pack of Busch into the passenger seat, but let a 16 month old ride unrestrained in the backseat.

What the police didn’t know is that the woman had traded the toddler’s twin for the beer, and was on her way to pick up some ribs and spicy hot wings in trade for the other one.

In the “Stupid-about-to-be-Canuck” catgory, an immigrant family from the Phillipines left their 23-month old behind as they dashed to make their connecting flight in Vancouver. Apparently FOUR adults were not enough to keep up with ONE child. Each thought the other had the child. They were not aware of the lost article until a flight attendant alerted them. Mid-flight.

Apparently “No Child Left Behind” works just as well in Canada as it does in the U.S.