Bad Romance

If something doesn't happen on Facebook, did it really happen?

Like, for instance, if you catch your boyfriend cheating, you should probably paste a blow-by-blow (in some cases, literally) of all of his indiscretions on Facebook so everyone can recognize what a wad he is. And if you're sad about it, you should probably post that on your wall so EVERYONE knows. Because what is the point of having the sads if no one knows about your suffering? And when you find a new dude, you should probably unfavorably compare the old guy to the new guy, stat.

I thought there would be umpteen sites about FB breakups, and there are. And dude, some are REALLY funny. Especially when grammar and spelling are concerned, because not only do you get to feel superior to someone dumb enough to air their dirty laundry (in some cases, literally) on Facebook, you get to laugh at their inability to punctuate.

Breaking up with someone you actually like: painful. Sometimes rage-inducing. But if you take to the internet to register your dissatisfaction about your mate or relationship, IT'S OUT THERE. It's not like telling your friend how much your boyfriend stinks (in some cases, literally) and you can hope she'll be too drunk to remember. You're posting this for 237 of your close "friends" to see. So if you do work it out with Loverboy, you're gonna look like an even bigger idiot when you post pics of you guys snuggling at someone's wedding. "Didn't she make disparaging remarks about his manhood and then change her status to "Single" a week ago?"

Let it marinate. Think about what you're doing. Here's an idea: KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. For real! It can be done! People used to do it all the time! There were things called "privacy" and "shame" and they worked out OK for a long time. Then reality TV happened and people started wearing pajamas in public and all hell broke loose (in some cases, literally).

TV Review: Locked Up Abroad

When you see something affiliated with National Geographic, you know it's going to be both classy and educational. There might even be nudity involved, but it will be strictly legit and cultural-like.

Well, there's no nudity in National Geographic Channel's "Locked Up Abroad", but it's plenty educational. And the message is, "Don't be an idiot and smuggle drugs across international borders unless you want your ass thrown in a Thai prison for 30 years."

The show's webpage claims that those "Locked Up Abroad" were just looking for a good time in a foreign land when BAM! they land in a Mexican jail. But every episode I've ever seen goes like this:

1. Some dope goes to Columbia (or other nation renown for drug production). Initially, times are good with partying, ethnic food and cultural music shown in a montage of wacky camera angles as an actor in a bad wig reenacts what went down.

2. Some guys offer the dumbass a ton of money to smuggle massive amounts of cocaine (or heroin) to another country. "Just cover up these 10 lb. bricks of heroin in your suitcase with a towel - no one will ever know it's there."

3. The idiot thinks this is a foolproof plan. Didn't he ever see that "Brokedown Palace" mess? Should have asked himself WWCDD (what would Claire Danes do?) and done the opposite.

4. On the way to the airport, or in the airport itself, the drug mule has the opportunity to abort the mission and chooses not to.

5. Just when he thinks he's gotten away with it after making it through airport security, some guy in a uniform confronts him and DAMN! you get that sinking feeling he must have had when he realized it was all over.

They're spending some coin on this show, because they actually shoot it in the country where the guy is now locked up (abroad). The reenactments are interspersed with video of the perp/victim against a black backdrop, telling his story. Then, towards the end, the camera pans back and you see the backdrop is some old sheet draped across a couple of bunk beds over a latrine and they're shooting it in the guy's jail cell while 14 of his cellmates hang around. Holy moly.

It's all pretty formulaic, so why is it so compelling? Because we've all had that "Oh, crap" moment when we've done something stupid. Except it usually doesn't result in us languishing in a Thai prison for the rest of our lives.

Alle-Gore-y.

I was all set to go off on Lesley Gore and her horrifying '50's anthems "It's My Party" and the gross follow-up "Judy's Turn to Cry".

If you are unfamiliar with quintessential '50's Americana and your parents never forced you to listen to the oldies station during every single car trip you ever took, "It's My Party" is all about this sap (Lesley) who has a birthday party and invites both friend Judy and dreamy Johnny, who then rudely decide to get it on together, much to Lesley's chagrin! Her response is to boo-hoo and then act petulant ("You would cry, too, if it happened to you." Probably. Either that or give both of them the tasering of a lifetime.)

Then she follows up with "Judy's Turn to Cry." Here's where I have a real problem: instead of being ticked at Johnny for making out with her friend Judy AT LESLEY'S OWN PARTY, Lesley wins back the loathsome cad's affections and then sneers at poor Judy, who's left alone and humiliated. Basically, this jerk Johnny gets to make out with two ladies, then gets off scot-free while they fight over him for no discernible reason. I think something similar may have happened on Flavor of Love. Only with more expletives and less clothing.

But after a little research, I got schooled - Lesley redeemed herself somewhat with the deadly serious anthem "You Don't Own Me" in which she tells off some jerk who thinks he can control what she does and says and uses her as arm candy. Then Lesley later came out as a lesbian, which may not make her music any more enjoyable, but makes an exploration of all her earlier work that much more interesting, given the context and era. Who knew?!

Lesley has also got some killer dance moves:

Well, Suuuuumimasen.

In some countries, it's perfectly acceptable to make bodily contact with strangers. Things can get crowded and stuff happens. You might find yourself being shoved into a subway car, your thighs getting intimately familiar with the contents of a stranger's pockets. Or you punch someone in the face during a soccer riot. That's just the way it is. I'm not judging. I'm celebrating the moments of our lives.

But that's not how it works here, to my knowledge. You bump into somebody, and there's a certain ritual that ensues:

BUMPER: Oops, excuse me. Sorry.
BUMPEE: Excuse me.
or
BUMPEE: That's OK.
or
BUMPEE: [discreet silence]

Nowhere is it prescribed that someone bumps into you, yells, "Owww!" you say "I'm sorry!" although it CLEARLY was not your fault, they make pain face, you say sorry again and then mention the fact that THEY bumped into YOU and then they look at you while rubbing their arm that's in a cast [which clearly should be more carefully protected by the owner and not be bandied about, in an athletic setting, all willy-nilly], LADY AT THE GYM TODAY. Grr.

Buffet-Impaired.

Look, not everyone can handle a buffet-type situation. Frankly, it's all a bit overwhelming, especially to those of us with few talents in the culinary arena. During a buffet changeover between say, breakfast and lunch, at a buffet that offers "twenty stations from around the world", how can one be expected to construct a cohesive plate from the bevy of options available?! Shellfish, Chinese, bacon, macaroons, BBQ... It's all too much. Everything must be sampled with as few trips around the room as possible. Can one be blamed for hooking up some French toast with sushi roll?

Well, can I?

Grammy's Mix Tape.

Good news:  the folks at Crystal Light have somehow gotten ahold of the results of your grandma dabbling in 80's technology and are offering you the ability to purchase "Grammy's Mix Tape" if you so desire.  

First of all, "Grammy's" is obviously just plan wrong.  If it is a mix tape from the Grammy Awards, it should just be Grammys Mix Tape, yes?  And if they insist on denoting possession, then it would be Grammys' Mix Tape, no?

Perhaps more importantly, why, in 2009, is anyone (including your grandma) still making mix tapes?  I held on to my cassette tapes to the bitter end and even I was forced to recognize that era is dead and gone.

Finally, people still drink Crystal Light?

The Jerk Within.

Don't you hate those d-wads who fly off the handle without letting you get a word in edgewise?

While crossing the street this morning (in subzero temperatures), a taxi obviously not intending on actually observing his Stop sign began rolling toward me while I was in the crosswalk. Naturally, I started mouthing off. He jammed on the brakes, then rolled down the window. "Oh, it's on," I thought, and unleashed a barrage of anger in his direction. "Why don't you look where you're going? You're supposed to STOP at a Stop sign. You almost ran me over! Your Momma!" While I paused for breath, he said, "I was just trying to tell you I'm sorry."

Man. I hate it when I turn out to be the jerk. It's much more fun when everyone else sucks.