American Inventor. American Dumbass.

An invention… Similar to a cape, but it wraps around the whole of your body from shoulder to toe. Inside, a plastic pouch into which men can relieve themselves; handier still is the funnel device for women. After nature's business has been attended to, the pouch is sealed and the 'cape' folded (pouch inside) neatly into a small duffel bag with a shoulder strap. This; this is what I get for accidentally tuning in an hour early to watch what is now, a rarity: A whole hour of quality fictitious television, otherwise known as ‘Commander in Chief’. I watched ‘American Inventor’ for about four minutes; long enough to witness the unveiling of the invention and promptly gag.

Never mind the pee bag over your shoulder, the fact that you just took a whiz in public (and while sober), or even the idea that there is probably a public toilet somewhere inside of a one mile radius around you; let’s think about what you’d look like on a busy street, at the bus stop (the example given by the hopeful inventor), or elsewhere in public. Ready? Let us visualize: You’re walking. Nature is calling. You stop, pull your pee cape out of its baggy, drape it about yourself and, to the public’s eyes, fumble in and about your crotch area while you stand still for however long it takes to relieve yourself. You disrobe, pack your urine into your pee purse, and continue on your way.

Ridiculous. Stupid. Almost creepy. ABC was kind enough to squander five minutes of my life by airing the segment; a complete waste. I know the producers of these reality programs realize the American masses are inane and slow-witted, but really? Aren’t they only encouraging the dumbasses of America to continue in their unconscious pursuit of mediocrity, ignorance, and ineptitude? Could the network not have found any more interesting and at the same time more intelligent programming?

‘American Dumbass’ may rake in more money than a program on the History Channel because the public just can’t seem to get enough of pee capes, cat fights between two people who can’t even name our Vice President, and the enthralling romanticism of ‘The Bachelor’. But, I’d like to think that if television as an aggregate offered only intelligent programming, the whole of America would eventually be forced to learn something, and maybe, could even learn to write and speak correct English. It is a lofty goal, I know, but one that I believe could be reached should the media, teachers, and parents make an attempt to right the sad state in which America finds itself.

The media plays a large role in prohibiting any change. Even commercials drive me batty. Take for instance Sara Lee, the pastry giant. Their slogan, “Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee” is a DOUBLE NEGATIVE! Now this may not have a great effect on those who know and use correct grammar. I can appreciate how that statement may appear and seem more definitive than, “Everybody likes Sara Lee”. But, most people are dumb and don’t realize the statement is grammatically incorrect. And this organization is putting it in print! Guess what? To the mentally challenged that’s basically saying it’s is; they just don’t know any better.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve even heard people, whom I deemed at least of an average intelligence, using ‘conversate’ instead of converse. That one’s a personal and not-so-pet peeve. I can’t stand it! I think the whole phenomenon started with some rap song and the whole f’ing world jumped on the band wagon. In music, I can forgive grammatical errors because, well it’s music and accurate grammatical phrasing can be impossible. But, it drives me insane that Americans are so ignorant, a song can make ‘dumb’ even dumber.

Ugh.

The Dryer, The Witch, and The Wardrobe...

The information you are about to read may shock you, but fear not! I shall get to the bottom of this mystery and deliver the offending culprit… I must begin with a bit of background…

I believe in the Sock Monster. I have repeatedly been duped by this dastardly thief, but have dealt with the consequences as I have been unable to find any incriminating proof or for that matter, the suspect himself. This, I fear, will be a battle I fight for an eternity and I am prepared to deal with this annoyance forever if I must.

I was not however, prepared for or even aware of, the witch that appears to have taken up residence in my dryer. I fell victim to her last week, and at first, did not realize I had encountered my new enemy, but today I have been preyed upon again. I wish to warn you all; she is a vicious and cunning enemy. Unlike the Sock Monster, who attacks in a most bothersome yet insignificant way, she attacks with full vigor and wreaks havoc upon your wardrobe…

I have ‘lost’ two pairs of pants, a bra, and a favorite shirt to date. It is infuriating, to say the least, and I plan to right the situation. My wardrobe is shrinking and she is to blame. I know, you’re thinking it cannot be true. But I assure you, it is the absolute truth; I have considered all other possibilities…

If I lived with other women, I could perhaps conclude my clothing had been arbitrarily borrowed, but I live with men. I could conclude I have merely misplaced my ‘missing’ clothes, but I have searched high and low and in every other direction for them and have come up short. If I were crazy I could conclude I have lost my mind and am simply imagining I own articles of clothing that I do not, in fact, own. But I am not crazy, contrary to many-a-friend’s testimony given during rounds of joshing. So, where does that leave me? In a state of confusion and horror for I believe the witch is on the prowl and has begun to attack others…

A friend of mine recently ‘lost’ her favorite pair of jeans while at the laundry mat. The jeans were taken directly from the washer and placed in the dryer. When she retrieved her laundry, all was accounted for but the jeans. She double checked both the washer and dryer and like me, came up short. She blamed unlawful citizens. I agreed, sighed, and shook my head in disappointment. Maybe we misjudged the situation…

For now, I am angry, perplexed, and determined to unearth this wicked criminal.

And you? Beware the witch!

Moonlit Habit, Gary Stevens, Dress Slacks, Good Friends, and Wristband Tans...

Moonlit Habit caught my eye even before I’d ever set eyes on her. Her name jumped out at me on the page in my program. It was almost four o’clock, there was the slightest of breezes, race eight was soon to begin, and the sun was shining in a way that tinted everything with a deep auburn color. It was the kind of day that should have had its very own soundtrack. The kind of day seen on a movie screen accompanied by music, perfect for each and every moment…

Before Saturday I was a virgin when it came to horseracing. Well, almost. Technically, two years ago the L.A. Fair introduced me to the sport, but I was able to experience only forty-five minutes of bliss. I’d been wanting more ever since. Saturday, I got it.

I have yet to bet on a horse race. Surprising I know, as I appear to be quite the little gambler in Vegas. Perhaps the difference is in the thrill of it. In Vegas, the thrill comes from the potential of riches. At the track, the thrill, while I imagine could include the potential for riches, comes, for me, from the competition; not between the jockeys but the animals themselves. It may be corny or cliché but competition really is all about heart; and in that sense, I find it inspirational.

If you’re wondering, yes, I loved the movie Seabiscuit, but no, this blog was not inspired by it, though it does reflect my feelings about the idea. And, I think any day spent in the company of good friends and around true inspiration deserves a special place in my ‘memory library’.

My friend Lisa was there when I experienced my first horse race (it was her first as well) and she was there again for the second round. We had heard KROQ was to be at Santa Anita Park, The Great Race Place, serving microbrews for a mere five dollar entrance fee and figured it’d be a great weekend to get back to the track, bring a few friends, and stay the whole day. After our IDs afforded us our wristbands we discovered KROQ’s microbrews were seven ounces and $2.50 a glass in addition to the five dollar entrance fee. We opted for the Clubhouse and wine.

We spent the day in the sun, drinking, laughing, eating, and cheering. Some of which was spent in the company of Gary Stevens (he’s even shorter in person), the real jockey who played ‘George the Iceman’ in Seabiscuit. The dress code, the company, the horses, and our resulting wristband tans; it was a good day…

None of us bet, though we each ‘won’ a race. Moonlit Habit won race eight and for a moment I thought about what I would have won had I bet. Had I been in Vegas, I would have kicked myself. Strangely enough, I had no regrets about not betting on her. In the end, it wasn’t about winning, but about good friends, good times, and heart.

It was a day I hope to relive again and again…