007 Daniel Craig Doesn't Mince Words

Photo Sony Pictures

Last night, I came across an article where Daniel Craig (00-sexy, uh, 7) unleashed on the Kardashian bunch. 


Here's part of what he had to say in an interview with GQ magazine:

"It's a career. What can I tell you?" he said. "It is a career; I'm not being cynical. And why wouldn't you? Look at the Kardashians, they're worth millions. Millions! I don't think they were that badly off to begin with, but now look at them. You see that and you think, 'What, you mean all I have to do is behave like a f*!$ing idiot on television and then you'll pay me millions?'"

Now, I don't begrudge anybody anything, but I just don't understand the Kardashians.  The first time I heard of Kim Kardashian was when her sex tape made the news. As for her sisters, I only heard of them when one married a basketball player and the other became pregnant with her boyfriend's baby. I didn't even know they had a brother until I saw a commercial for the most recent season of Dancing With The Stars. 

Craig is right about how one can make millions on television today, but it's not limited to the Kardashians.  When I look at the types of shows proffered for our entertainment, most of what I see involves bad behavior and/or exploitation. 

You have drunken messes, swearing rants, cruelty, extravagant snobs, delusional egos, and promiscuity, while the unique, different, or hurting are portrayed in a supposed positive light, when really it's just a subtle way of making fun.

What's happened? Since when did severely bad behavior become the jewel in the crown? To me, when you reward bad behavior, you encourage it. Stop rewarding it, and you send a much stronger message about right and wrong and basic human decency. 

Bottom Line: I don't get it. Oh, I get the whole money aspect, but...I don't get it. Who would want to act the way some of these people act? Who would want to treat others so poorly? And why? I don't get it. I really just don't get it. And, apparently, neither does 007.

Dig My Car, Baby

I hate to admit where I was when this little gag-me moment took place.  Please keep in mind, it was getting late and I hadn't eaten.

McDonalds. I was at the Golden Arches. I know, awful, right? Here it is right after the annual Thanksgiving gorge-fest and I'm fast-food-ing it up.  I blame the smell of freshly fried fries and grease.

Anyway, while in the parking lot at Mickey D's, Cool Dude decided to give me his best "wassup, baby" move.

Now, I need to paint this picture as clearly as possible for y'all:

1. Having not eaten anything, I was somewhere between a fainting princess and a ravenous bi*#$ wolf. 
2. My nose was busy having a love affair with the smell of smoking hot fries coming from inside Mickey D's.
3. On a scale of 1-10, my desire to have a move put on me was a -5.
4. Did I mention we're in the parking lot of McDonalds? Yeah. A little grease and a little flirt? Not ideal. I just want my bad-for-me food, you know?

Cool Dude had the wassup head move down pat.  No words, just the bob and a semi-smile.  I smiled back, not wanting to be rude (although, I strongly suspect the corners of my mouth turned up because I was one step closer to the fries).

He then stood there, chomping his gum, posing by his fancy BMW with tinted windows. He had kind-of a "look at me, baby, aren't I sexy with my 007 car" vibe.

Well, let's see where the sexy ranks, shall we: His pants were so far down that the pockets had to be near his knees.  He had his hat turned backwards with the bill flipped up, and the brightest pi**-yellow shoes I have ever seen. I bet you they glow in the dark...glow in the dark pi** shoes. It's like he missed the mark and hit his toes.

After the pose, he slowly got in his car, put the driver's window down, turned the stereo to sonic boom, and ripped out of there.

Not sure what the heck all that posing was about...or if he was just showing off...or if he expected me to swoon, but the next song that played on the radio was so ironic, I had to laugh. Pretty much sums it all up for me.

Here's the part that really sums it up (Back When by Tim McGraw):

...We got too complicated
It's all way over-rated
I like the old and out-dated
Way of life

Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack's what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said I'm down with that
Well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when...

~written by Stan Lynch, Stephony Smith and Jeff Stevens; performed by Tim McGraw.


I hear you, Tim--I miss back when, too, even if it's a back when I never knew. 

Truth Is Thursday, Thanksgiving Themed!

First and foremost, I hope EVERYONE is having a wonderful Thanksgiving!!!

Truth is: COWBOYS WON! Whoop-Whoop!!! Turkey Day with a Cowboys win makes digesting much easier.

Truth is: After the game, CBS did a little tribute to all who work behind the scenes. They show pictures of everyone and their families while playing a song. It’s really nice.  Anyway, this year, they played Keith Urban’s Without You, which he wrote for his wife, Nicole Kidman.  I LOVE that song—who doesn’t want a man who loves like that?! I’ll post the video below.

Truth is: This morning, the Christmas music station I listen to did something that even made my mom’s jaw drop. 

In between songs, the DJ started talking about random stuff and then mentioned something about wish lists. I thought she was going to talk about the top toys kids are asking for this season, like they normally do. I couldn’t have been more wrong.  

DJ Lady: “…I’ll let you know what single people  are wishing for this holiday season.”

Really? We now have single-people specific wish lists for Santa? And here I always thought wish lists were specific to the individual, regardless of social status.

Couldn’t stick around and find out what topped the single person’s wish list, but I bet whatever it was didn’t match my wish list, since my #1 is sports related.  So…there…you sorta not nice DJ Lady person. *sticking tongue out*

Truth is: I really, really want to ride a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. 

Truth is: My mom’s kitchen smells so good…and the fridge with all the leftovers is the best smelling fridge this side of the moon.

Truth is: Will not be Black Friday shopping.  Will be sitting in front of television for football.  Must be ready for football.  Watching football right now, actually. I do love football.  Can I possibly type football any more times?  Probably. ;)

Truth is:  Think I over-stuffed my tummy.  It’s tradition to over-stuff on Thanksgiving. Definitely lived up to said tradition. 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!!

Here’s the video I mentioned above:

The Annual Thanksgiving Grocery Trip

I know I'm way behind on reading. Ugh, I feel so bad when I fall behind. I will be working through blogs, I promise.

Late today was our annual Griswold Family Thanksgiving Grocery Trip. Every year you can usually count on at least one completely humiliating instance...and this year didn't disappoint.

This year, my mom could go, which was wonderful.  And she had her moments...which I'm not at liberty to share...but really want to. 

There were some near misses:

* Mom, needing my help, unwittingly brought me too close to the fish station. Not a good place for my nose and gag reflex. When the unmistakable scent of fish guts burned the tip of my screaming nostrils, I felt it.  It always begins the same: a wave flows up my throat, sending a quiver to my chin and a curl to the bottom lip, ending with a rather remarkable sound effect and, I would imagine, an unforgettable sight. Luckily, I hauled it from the fish and managed to stop the effect somewhere between chin quiver and lip curl.

* I asked my dad if cut green beans were the same as sliced green beans. Dad laughed. Loudly.  Shopper Lady started laughing.  I felt like an idiot.  Did I miss the green bean category day in kindergarten or something?

* Near disaster: Heading for the crazy long checkout lines, I just had to spot some Holiday DVDs. So, while walking, I craned my neck to scan them because...well...I don't know why. Curiosity? Stupidity? *thinking* Yeah, it had to be stupidity. Anyway, when I turned back around, I was less than a half step from slamming into one of those displays in the middle aisle of the store. I kind of stutter-stepped around it, but didn't go far enough and had to kind of hug it. I wanted to disapparate. So, there I was, kind-of frozen, hugging a round display thing. Lord help me. On the plus side, I didn't knock it over--been there, done that already anyway.

Now, for the humiliating moment of the day. While trying to slip away to purchase, um, a package of, ahem, the feminine sort (re: for the monthly visitor), Dad, of course, caught me.

Dad: "Where ya goin'?"

Me: "Oh, just down there. Be back."

Dad: "Gotcha. You might want my help, though."

Me: "Huh?"

Dad: "Well, things like toilet paper and those women things are price traps. If you don't check those unit prices carefully, they'll nail you. Actually, let me just come show you what I'm talking about."

Me, trying to scurry away: "What? No. That's okay, really."

Dad: "It's good information to have for your future buys. Plus, women don't look at that stuff--they just grab and buy. I can probably save you a couple bucks."

He started kind of following me down the aisle, before he stopped, turned, and said rather loudly: "Hon, we're just going to be down there with the female pads and stuff.  Daughter needs my help."

Me, exclaiming at the same time he's saying what he's saying: "No! No. Shhh. Aw...you know...really?"

Dad, the light dawning on him: "Oh, oops. Sorry about that."

Two men were standing right there by the milk. In his defense, I don't think he really saw the two guys and no one else was in that part of the store. Still, could he not show me the whole unit price thing (which I'm pretty sure he did already some years ago...that I kinda forgot over time) over some Bounty towels or Kleenex or something? I'm darn sure not going to forget now, I can tell you that.

All was quiet as we headed down the aisle...until Dad started his Cheshire cat laughing. Terrific.

All in all, it was a minor humiliation compared to years past. Next chance for catastrophic embarrassment: The Griswold Family Christmas Shopping Trip.
 

On the plus side:

1. Dale Jr. ended the NASCAR season 7th in points! He had an awesome year, especially with it being his first season with Steve.  Those wins may have escaped his grasp this season, but I think it just means they're storing up for next season.  Proud to be a Dale Jr. fan. Go Dale! (Awesome Chase finale, too. Tony Stewart's run was incredible. Epic final race).

2. Cowboys won in OT over the Redskins. Phew!

3. College football (minus names for fear of jinxing): Geaux.

Truth Is Thursday!

Truth is: There was a picture of this older guy on the back of some magazine and I thought it was Larry Hagman (J.R. Ewing)…but it wasn’t…because I was looking at it upside down. Turned the right way, he clearly wasn’t J.R.  So, upside down he’s J.R.; right-side-up, not so much. I’m so interesting right now, huh? 

Truth is: I heard the Mariah Carey hit, All I Want For Christmas Is You on the radio…but it wasn’t the same...there was another voice joining her on the track…

My first thought was that the DJ had accidentally started another track over hers, but that couldn’t be since they were singing the same lyrics. No, it was clearly a duet. I had no idea who it was, but my reaction went something like this: “STOP!!! MY EARS! MY EARS!”

After the song ended, I uncovered my ears, and the DJ solved the mystery: “That’s the new Christmas single by Justin Bieber with Mariah Carey…”

Sigh.

Look, I’m sure he’s a great kid, but…well…it was just wrong.  I think it didn’t work because Mariah’s voice is just so much bigger than his. Reckon I just like the original. She's a legend--it's her song.

Truth is: Dad was in a cranky mood the other night. Unfortunately, it was the only time I could talk about Mom’s Christmas present with him without her trying to eavesdrop.

Cranky-pants + Christmas presents = borderline Donald Duck moment (his favorite Disney character).

So, he kept trying to change the subject, which I let him do a time or two before tactfully bringing the topic back around to Christmas.  By tactfully, I mean I said something very blunt like, “Okay, back to Christmas,” in a much too happy voice.  After about the third time, I finally got the semi-Donald Duck moment. 

Dad, red face and cranky: “I’m trying to talk about historical things here and you just want to talk about Christmas and it’s not even Thanksgiving.”

Admittedly, I was a little bouncy. It’s the Christmas vibe. I tend to get a little merry.

Me, my mind a complete blank as to how to un-cranky him: “Don’t snap at me! I’m being adorable here!”

Dad turned to look at me and his cranky, frown-y face broke into a huge grin.

Me, slightly embarrassed: “Well, maybe it’s more like adorkable.”

Dad, laughing: “No, it’s adorable.”

We talked about Mom’s Christmas present and he was a total teddy bear the whole time.

Truth is: Pretty sure it’s more like adorkable. :/

Friendly Faces?

You know that line in Something’s Gotta Give about versions of the truth?  Jack’s character says, “I have always told you some version of the truth,” to which Diane’s character wryly responds, “The truth doesn’t have versions.”

She’s right. But it seems there are different versions of friends because, let’s face it, an awful lot of people have no idea what it means to be a real friend. 

Now, I understand friendships sometimes drift apart over the years due to distance, marriage, and/or children. Those things happen.  And I know people aren’t perfect—even true friends can make mistakes or say things they don’t mean. Again, those things happen. I’m not talking about changes in circumstances getting in the way of friendships; I’m talking about people who were never really your friend to begin with.  

I used to think friends meant being there in good and bad times, being supportive when they’re weak, helping them rise when they fall, and celebrating when they succeed.  I used to always think there was only one kind of friend.  Boy, was I as naïve as a little lamb trusting a slightly bigger lamb with unusually big fangs, gray pointy ears, and poorly fitted wool. 

It seems like the friend thing is getting worse. I hear it all the time: “She just stopped being my friend when I got a boyfriend;” “She says really cruel things to me, then turns around and brags about something in her life;” “He says he values my friendship, but only calls to flirt, then disappears for weeks.”

So, I’ve put together a short list of “friends” to avoid:  

1. Fair weather friend: These “friends” wear their masks very well. They give every indication of being a real friend until the bottom drops out, things get rough, and then they zippity-do-da right on outta there.  Ultimate Friend Fail: No better than a fair weather football fan—not loyal, unreliable. 

2. Foul weather friend: Polar opposite of fair weather.  When something makes you happy or fate hands you a golden egg, this “friend” goes M.I.A.  They are unconditional friends so long as your life, in their view, is less than stellar, but when your life finally decides to get good, they split.  Ultimate Friend Fail: They rejoice in your sorrow or failure; can’t be happy for you; total evil queen or king in manner of Maleficent.

3. Footstool friend: Like bacteria in human form, these charming sorts will be true as tar until you unwittingly help them reach a premeditated goal, at which point they will dump you and move to the next.  You are a means to their ends. You are only friend material if you know people, have something they want, or can get them to a particular place in life, whether professional or personal.  Ultimate Fried Fail: It’s all about them, the materialistic-Cruella de Vil-mongers.

4. Fire-stoking friend: The one who likes to stir up trouble.  This friend seems to cause strife between you and your other friends, family, and sometimes your boyfriend or significant other. Ultimate Friend Fail: The Siamese cats from Lady & the Tramp. ’Nuff said.

5. Fur-stroking friend: These types are in desperate need of an ego boost. Whether it’s a guy needing a little flirt after being rejected elsewhere or a girl wanting to show off about this or that, these friends keep you on speed dial for a quick “I am so great and wonderful” moment.  Ultimate Friend Fail: You are simply their mirror, mirror on the wall. 

Conclusion: If confronted by any of the above...run. True, real friends are hard to find, but when they do come along, it's special--they're almost a once in a lifetime kind-of-thing. 

Um, one more conclusion: People just kind-of suck sometimes.

Attack of the Moth

It was night of BBQ, football, family and fun.  After stuffing our faces, we settled in to watch the game.  My mom worked on her Christmas blanket, taking breaks to shout at the refs, while my dad tinkered with his netbook, grumbling about the offense.

Even the kitchen work seemed more enjoyable.  That is, until I attempted to throw some icky packaging away and found that the garbage bag was too full.  No biggie. 

Next up: a new garbage bag.

Spinning (I like twirling) across the kitchen and into the mudroom, I flipped on the light, started tugging out a garbage bag, and...

FLAP! FLAP! FLAP! Zoooooooooooom! SLAM!

Freaking Mothra started attacking me in my neck, head, ear, and back.

It must have been a sight: me, doing my best imitation of a demented screech owl, with arms flailing, and hair whipping about in waves, while hunching my body over like Quasimodo, all in an attempt to avoid the BIGGEST BUG EVER.

No joke, this thing was like the size of a freaking bird. In fact, at first, I almost thought it was a bird. I tried to usher it out the door, but it kept attacking me. Aren’t they supposed to hibernate or something? Have you ever had a moth stick itself in your ear?  So not fun.

I finally escaped the mud room, turned off the light, and closed the door.  I then did what any single gal in her right mind would do...

Go back in armed with hairspray, shoe, and paper towel? Nah. We save that gear for very special wasps and bees.

Call for boyfriend? Well, since I don't have one of those, no.

Call for Dad? Ding, ding, ding, ding! Yep! Heck, he was there, watching the game, and just messing around with his netbook; he could take a minute to save his daughter from a monster.


I'm not sure how he got rid of it, but I can tell you he made no noise (very unlike my spastic dance) and it took literally two seconds.

Me: "You already got it?"

Dad: "Yeah, no problem."

Me: "Did it attack you?"

Dad: "Sure did. Landed right here on my neck."

Me, shuddering: "Didn't you, I don't know, freak out?"

Dad, smirking: "No.  It's a moth."

Okay, that didn't make me feel too stupid or anything. 

Me: "THAT was not a moth.  That was like Mothra's long lost baby or something."

Dad, laughing: "I've seen 'em bigger."

I couldn't reply.  Bigger?!  As in, what, Daddy Mothra?  King size Mothra? Super size Mothra?

Really. Don’t. Like. Bugs.

On the plus side:

*Cowboys won BIG against the impressive Bills. Hurray!

*Dale Jr. had a blah day, but it seemed all the Hendrick cars struggled. One race left and only 3 points separate Carl Edwards and Tony Stewart for the Championship. Should be a good one!

*I’m thinking there won’t be an NBA season…sucks…but it means the Mavericks remain the champions for another season (looking on the bright side can be so much fun sometimes).

Happy Monday!

Truth Is Thursday!

Truth is: HE (Hypocrite Evermore) is so not an honest, truthful man.  Knew it.  Hoped otherwise.  I really need to stop believing in the best in people (not sure that's entirely possible though.  I'm such a Pollyanna sometimes.). 

Truth is: Kyle Busch is in trouble (said in singsong voice)! After his antics at Texas, his sponsors want him out of the last Nationwide race of the season and there is some indication he may not be driving in the final two Sprint Cup races.  One very talented driver with a very bad attitude and, now, an uncertain future. Side note: I'm proud to be a Dale Jr. fan.

Truth is: I found an all Christmas music station on the radio! It made me want to go outside, plop down, and make a snow angel...but there's no snow...only dirt...and a dirt angel just doesn't have the same whimsy, does it?

Truth is: One of the first songs I heard was Frosty the Snowman and it reminded me of how much I always wanted to build a snowman, put a vintage top hat on his head, and see if he would say, "Happy Birthday!" What? You never wanted to try that? No? Oh, um, yeah, I guess I probably never actually really wanted to try that either. *blushes*

Truth is: This whole Penn State scandal makes me sick to my stomach. Appalling. Please keep the victims in your thoughts and prayers.

Truth is:  Ever see the jumbo boxes of dishwasher detergent? You know, the ones that are Hulk-heavy? Yeah, those. Well, I have one of those under my sink.  Not the brightest move. Last night, I filled the little door thingy, closed it, then attempted to pour a small amount in the top area for a pre-wash. I'm not sure what part of "small" my muscles didn't understand because they totally spazzed and proceeded to drop the Godzilla box of detergent, spilling an unholy amount all over the dishwasher door. Terrific. Had to clean that up before starting dishes because running the dishwasher with too much soap ends in a mess. Um, I found that out the hard way. Good times.

Truth is: Tomorrow, the last ever Harry Potter DVD will be available. *tears* Can't wait to curl up by my lonesome, watch the movie, and cry like an idiot.

Lights = Aliens...Sort of.

Well, this was a fantabulous sports weekend.

College Football: Very big game this past weekend. My daddy has a team, my mama has a team, and I grew up loving both with everything in me, but I refuse to jinx by saying too much, so I'll just say this one word...Geaux.

Cowboys: Won!

Dale Jr: 7th at Texas! Thank you, Texas!  (Bonus: Kyle Busch, because of his propensity to throw temper tantrums, wrecked Hornaday under caution in the truck race Friday night, which forced NASCAR to suspend him for the entire race weekend at Texas.  Again, Thank you, Texas! Great driver, but his attitude leaves a lot to be desired...shame, really.).

Me, Mom, Dad, & Aliens:

Post-game activities with my family usually involve talking (or ranting) about the game, reminding each other to breathe, and just relaxing.  This weekend was a little different.

Me, walking into the kitchen and finding my mom peering out the window: "Mom?"

Mom: "Honey, there's a weird light moving outside the kitchen."

Me, a little alarmed and a lot confused: "What do you mean there's a weird light?"

Mom: "The light is bright, a little blueish, and it's moving around the driveway."

Me, cleaning up a bit: "Maybe it's someone with a flashlight?"

Mom: "No, honey, the light isn't low or round like a flashlight. It's midair and it looks like a weird shape...Oh My God, I'm being abducted by aliens," she said with a sigh.  "And here I thought those alien abductions were a little bit fake."

Me, realizing I needed to look at this light: "No, Mom, you're not being abducted by aliens. There must be a reasonable explanation."

Mom: "There is a reasonable explanation--I'm about to meet E.T. Oooh, what if they're not E.T. aliens and they're more like those slimy, smelly, mean ones from Independence Day?"

Me: "Well, then I guess you go all Will Smith on their stinky butts."

Moving to take a look outside, I immediately saw the cause of the mysterious lights.

**I should probably note that my mom is night blind. 

Me, grinning: "Mom, I think I can safely say you are not going to be abducted by aliens.  It's Dad. He has lights on his head."

Mom: "You're saying your father is growing lights from his head?"

Me: "In a way..."

The back door flew open and in walks my Dad sporting his headband of lights.

Dad: "These are so cool.  I don't have to put the porch lights on, I can finally see under the sink, and, look, it flips from bright to red!" He started flipping the switches to go from bright to red with a big goofy grin on his face.

Me, laughing: "And this would be your alien, Mom."

Mom, shaking her head: "Honey, you have no idea."

Moral of the story: Next time you see a floating light, it might be a man who has discovered the next it-thing in light-up head gear. 

Truth Is Thursday!

Truth is: I'm bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. There's nothing so dull as a brain that wants to yawn...and yawn and yawn.

Truth is:  Was so elated Dale Jr. finished 7th last weekend. He drove like a bat outta h-e-l-l.  He definitely delivered a treat.  Perfect timing for Halloween.  The Cowboys on the other hand were in the mood to trick. In fact, I'm not entirely sure they even showed up to play. Oh! Maybe they intentionally lost that game in a miserable way in order to "trick" their future opponents into thinking they aren't a threat. Yeah, uh-huh, that's the theory I'm sticking to.

Truth is: The Halloween Ghost Hunters live event was fun, as always.  It made me want to visit a graveyard or some other abandoned creepy place in the middle of the night and try to talk to any wandering spirits.  Might cure the yawning brain of boredom.

Truth is: Really tired of how marriage is treated like some random thing you try on for size, like a dress or pair of shoes. 

Truth is: The whole "without my phone I cannot live" mentality bugs me. Can't make a decision? Ask your phone.  Wonder what color works best on you? Ask your phone.  Need to start your car from afar? Just have your phone do it.  Very disturbing.  Want to lock or unlock your house on a whim?  No problem, just have your phone do it. Even more disturbing.  Oh, and while you're at it, just scan checks and do all your personal banking...on your phone. Scarier than a group of zombies surrounding you in the middle of an empty parking lot at 2 a.m. Hmm. Maybe not. I get how it can be useful, but it's just not for me. I'm a little more old-fashioned than that, I guess. Big surprise, huh?

Truth is: I watched the new episode of the Walking Dead and wound up dreaming about running from those ugly, skin-rotting, flesh eating creeps all night. But what really made the dream a nightmare was when a relatively stylish zombie tried to eat my cranberry Totally Turnlock Marc Jacobs Mag bag handbag. Stupid smelly bit*!. 

Truth is: The Christmas music has started and I couldn't be happier! It's all I listen to from Halloween to Christmas.  Love all the Christmas commercials and movies, too! I'm determined to create a little Christmas magic of my own this year. I just don't know what or how exactly...but I'm not discouraged, no-oh-no.