Tuesday, April 12, 2011

The Fall of Civilizaton

Sometimes I fear that we're losing our greatest expressions of self and the culture in which we live by the simple act of hitting "delete."

Like, just this week I found out that my recordings of "Bones" were cancelled so that somebody in my house could record "Sixteen and Pregnant."  I mean, yeah, full points for the cultural choice, on accounta nothing says '21st century America' like a television program devoted entirely to teenage girls who, astonishingly, are even more hormonally insane than their not-pregnant classmates.

But still, any show where the hot yet sensitive FBI agent falls for the brilliant anthropologist and best selling author who wishes more than anything that she was a middle-aged piano teacher deserves a little respect on the DVR.

What?  That piano teacher thing?  Hel-LO, it's called "inferring." 

So, in the spirit of keeping at least my corner of the social parachute off the gym floor of historical oblivion, I present you with a few virtual exchanges shared recently with pals and assorted relatives:

A text from David: 
"There's a newspaper delivery box at the entrance to the cemetery up here. Wonder who that subscription is for."

A text from my sister, which accompanied the photo seen below:


If you look closely, you'll see the cookie carnage. 
If you look even closer, you'll see that Amber is out of oven cleaner. 
(I'm so going to pay for that.)

  • Amber:  "Sh*td*mnh*ll! [all one word, with vowels]  I dropped the entire pan of cookies as I took 'em outta the oven :(  I knew you'd give me some sympathy."
  • Me:  "Didja eat enough dough first?"
  • Amber:  "Of course.  So it wasn't a total loss." 
Text messaging with Ken Craig about a 'certain' college choir performing at a 'certain' conference:


Ken and Katie Craig. I put their picture on my blog on a semi-regular basis,
mostly cuz they're way cuter than Brett and me.
They're way cuter than, like, everything. Seriously. 
My neighbor brought over a soft, white, nose-wiggling bunny today.  
Compared to the Craigs?  Total troll. 


Ken: "Is Ness in this choir?"

Me: "No, and we [are disappointed in] the choir director. Vanessa pleaded with her but she wouldn't even let her audition because she wasn't "on track." She was in [anonymous Idaho town whose name rhymes with Shmexshmurg], enrolled in [anonymous private university] night classes, and was willing and able to attend all rehearsals. When she couldn't participate, she was heartbroken. So stick pins in your conference choir director doll, please."

Ken: "I'm going to make a conference choir director doll STRICTLY out of pins!"

Me: "David already observed that the Salem witch trials were over so the director could lose the Puritan dress. So welcome aboard the 'snark' train."

Ken: "I'm not on the snark train. Please consider me the man in the black cape and long mustache who has tied the choir director to the train track so that said 'snark' train may run her right-the-crap-over."

Me: "Hooray for Bishop Villain! This time the Villain's the Hero!"

Ken: "An anti-hero! Like the Newman/Redford movies. I like that!"

Me: "Exactly. Newman/Redford movies. Precisely the image I had in mind."

(Conversations with Ken that don't devolve into obscure movie references are conversations with someone who only looks like Ken. Like that guy who plays "Chuck." Zach Whatshisname.)

Finally, a text exchange with my good friend, Christine Macdonald, who - and I'm not making this up - is a former stripper and is now a public speaker and writer and truly beautiful soul. She was in Hawaii, and texting me from a club where she used to work. It was 2:00 a.m. Vegas time, and I started the convo. I'd played enough 'TexTwist2' on my iPhone and wasn't ready to sleep. So I checked in on Christine, who had travelled home to attend a memorial service for a friend:


Borrowed from Christine without her permission cuz, ironically, she hasn't texted me back yet. 

  • Christine:  LOL!
  • Me:  Any time...
There was more to the conversation than that, but someone erased it to record 'Jersey Shore.'

Too bad.  If I remember correctly, Christine sent pictures.  *


*Of the outside of the club.  Sheesh, what did you think she was taking pictures of??

17 comments:

Kristy said...

But really, what would our lives be like without DVR? Or delete? Or, texting. How did we survive before? I don't know. It was a sad, sad existence. :)

Josh Hoyt said...

This is so funny. Thanks for the great laugh. Civilization is so odd and I wonder what will become of it. I wonder what we will do when the cell phones all go.

Christine Macdonald said...

Oh, but our exchange was so great! :)

Love you sister.

Another FABULOUS post.

xxoo

Dixie Mom said...

Ha! I think you may be on to something here.
And...I think I use the delete button too much too.

seashmore said...

Interesting idea for a blog post. As soon as I get some good ones of my own, I'm stealing it. K,thx,bye

Becca said...

Hear ye, hear ye --

If we are to reamin friends, you must not think that Redford and Newman movies are obscure. Did I not grow up on Butch and Sundance (including the CHEESIEST SCENE IN CINEMA HISTORY with the "raindrops" song) and The Sting?

Love me, love Paul Newman -- this is my mantra.

Melanie Jacobson said...

I'm still a stripper. Just for an audience of one.

And I just realized I got your text message WAY after you sent it, and nope, I don't have that cell number.

I know. So timely.

Cheeseboy said...

16 and Pregnant? That show deserves to be NEVER DVR'd.

Reminds me of the time my stupid little sister taped over my copy of Get A Life with reruns of Quantum Leap. I was so ticked.

Brandy Rose said...

I love Bones. And I certainly don't mind Booth either ;)

Lisa Loo said...

SOunds like your choir director went a little postal with her power. Did the voo-hoo thin work? I wasn't paying attention to the director--dang it!

Back in the ancient days of vcr's my husband like to record football games over our children'scannotgobackandcapturegoneforever life stories.

Qait said...

Oh man...I wickedly enjoyed reading all that about the choir director (whom I have worked with) since I harbor the same feelings.
I try not to, but those feelings are there...
and I had to laugh at the puritan dress comment!
That really stinks that Ness didn't get to sing in the choir. :( Really!

AS Amber said...

Bahahahaha!!! Oh my heck, it's true. I have never cleaned that oven. And I'm pretty sure the million-year-old lady who lived here before me never did, either.

Even more scary than that was UNDER the oven drawer. I had to scrape all the carnage into the drawer and when I pulled out the drawer to dump it out...not good.

I did manage to clean that, though.

David brings up an interesting point...

16 and Pregnant? That's just defiling the DVR.

T said...

I'm still stuck on the newspaper delivery issue...

and wishing my phone had TexTwist - because that would have Oodles more fun than counting grey hairs while waiting for my scouts tonight.

Braden said...

"keeping at least my corner of the social parachute off the gym floor of historical oblivion" Beautiful metaphor or simile or whatever the heck it is. I got bored in English frequently.

Kim Bee said...

umm speaking of the gym floor - you can't post your coming blog "my exhilerating conversion to zumba" if you never attend the class....seriously get your hiney down to the Y girl, I miss you and Ive got lotsa booty shaking music for your dancing pleasure, cha cha cha! p.s.bring your yellow shirt xo

DeNae said...

Oh, man! Called out by my Zumba teacher! Right here in blogland!!

Sigh. OK, Miz Kim. I'll be there...after spring break!

Lara said...

Bones is my favorite, and I totally agree about the piano teacher thing.

And I would have stuck pins in the choir director doll, too. Bah, humbug!