disturbing developments

I'm not going to even touch the disturbing developments in the world or the country, though there are plenty o' them. No, let's just keep this to smaller, more personal disturbing elements. Believe me, there are enough of those to fill a blog post.

1.) How bad does your team have to be for a pinch runner to make a fatal base running mistake? Think about it. You make the decision--a really bad decision--to put someone in to do one very specific task and they not only fail, they FAIL. That, my friends, is a sign. A bad bad sign. Want to start a pool on when Tito loses his job?

2.) I don't know if I have mentioned it, but I am watching American Idol with D this year. Some years I pay attention to it and others I do not and this is a pay-attention year. So, for those of you who are blissfully ignorant about how it works, at this point in the competition, the show is on two nights a week. One show is the performances and the second is the results, on which someone is kicked off. To fill out the results show--which, frankly, could actually last all of three minutes, because really Ryan Seacrest just needs to tell someone, "hey, you got the least votes, see ya, bye"--they have musical guests performing. By which I mean to say, they have people who are pimping their new releases and/or Idol alumni performing. In the results shows I have seen this season, these "guests" have been uniformly bad, almost to the point of painful. We got P Diddy or what-the-fuck-ever he calls himself these days. We got The Black Eyed Peas doing some new single which would make you change the radio station should it come on. We got the guy who won last year; we got Fantasia. A cavalcade of boring-to-awful performances.

So when my son asked me last night was I planning on watching, I said no. Y'know, just tell me later who got kicked off (hopefully Stefano, 'cause that boy's gotta go). Then I went about my evening business, doing other shit. Well, I happened to come downstairs while the show was in progress to switch my laundry over and make tea, and while I was sitting in the kitchen waiting for my water to heat, I hear them announce the next musical guest. In honor of Rock & Roll Hall of Fame week on Idol, they have special guest...Iggy Pop. Holy fuck. An actual musician? I go into the living room to watch. And the disconnect is powerful. Iggy Pop? On Idol? I suppose I would have an even more visceral reaction to this sellout if "Lust for Life" (a song about doing heroin, yo) wasn't already indelibly linked in my mind with Carnival Cruises. Sigh. Punk is dead, right?

3.) And, finally, did you hear it's going to be in the 70s--possibly 80!--by Monday? That is not so much disturbing as it is delightful, but it does cause me a certain problem. If I want to celebrate this fact by, I dunno, wearing a skirt to work on Monday sans tights and boots--and keep in mind I have only lately put skirts with tights and boots back into the rotation, because from late December to March the chances of me dressing like a girl are very very small--I will need to do something about my legs. Like (again I dunno), shave them? Put on some self-tanner and hope it doesn't streak? This whole change of seasons thing is work, lemme tell you.

So you all have a lovely Friday, Adventurers. Try to keep our own disturbing developments to the bare minimum.

xoxo