Female Body Building

Is this attractive? Yes, to blind homosexual men who lost their eyesight in a freak accident while they were reading the latest issue of Conan the Barbarian. In all seriousness though, while flipping through the channels yesterday, I had the misfortune of coming upon a program called, Hooked: Female Body Building and I almost vomited in my mouth. I had to ask myself, why? No man wants a woman who can beat them in arm wrestling, or for that matter, beat them in general. So, if you are a woman who has a modicum of estrogen left, but you love working out, I developed a short list of tips or warning signs that it might be time to put down the dumb bells and pick up a curling iron.

1. Arms: Here's a simple saying to help you out; "Long and thin, you win--round and puffed, too tough."

2. Stomach: Think "four-pack" rather than "six-pack." A woman with a six-pack is a little too reminiscent of a twelve year old boy.

3. Legs: If the skin on your legs is so tight that the veins are literally popping out, it's time you sat on the couch with a box of bon-bons. Guys like toned legs, not thighs that look like they could crack coconuts.

4. Breasts: If you rely more on your pectoral muscles than gravity to move your breasts, stop what you are doing immediately! Furthermore, if your bikini top looks more like an eye-patch for your nipple, than a bra, you have a problem.

5. Face: If you look more like this:                                                                         than this:

6. Skin: Spray tan is not designed to help display the contours of your muscles.

7. Facial Hair: Wax, pluck, shave, thread, mow; do whatever you have to do.

8. Hands: No calluses! Moisturize until the cows come home if you have to, but do not touch a man's gent with calluses and blisters littering your palm!

There. Done. I hope this is helpful. If you have chosen to ignore any of this advice, I am left to assume you are too far gone and have no desire to mate with the opposite sex.

Fifty Shades of Gay

First of all, let me apologize to my gay friends and family (and indeed, all homosexuals around the globe) for associating your sexual preference with this trash (here I am obviously referring to this terrible book and not my blog post), but the play on words was simply too easy to pass up.

If you have not yet guessed, I am going to talk about this book, which just so happened to put me in mind of several other books (in fact, series of books) that are offensive to me as a writer, an English major, and a person with an I.Q. above 30. What is most troublesome is the popularity and success of these books because it denotes a worrisome trend; the dumbing down of America.

Fifty Shades of Grey:

This book is enthusiastically referred to by its readers as, "Mommy Porn," and somehow, this is not meant to be a negative description. It follows college graduate, Anastasia Steele (a hopelessly contrived name) and her relationship with billionaire, Christian Grey (the combination of "Grey" and "Steele" further shows a woeful lack of imagination). Steele is a virgin who is contracted by Grey with the intention of having complete control of her life. Now, Mr. Grey's sexual proclivities are bondage, domination, sadism--but this is ok, because he was abused as a child and therefore his adult activities are excusable. Anastasia's quandary is that she is a virgin and has to reconcile herself with becoming one of Grey's sex toys in his "Red Room of Pain"--absolutely riveting! You can see why this is such a popular book; what self-respecting, adventurous, intelligent young woman doesn't dream of wearing a ball gag and being whipped while she is explored in every orifice? However, this ridiculously trashy story line isn't the most offensive part of the book--it's the writing! The writing is nauseating, it is excruciating to read; the writing has been reviewed in the following terms: it "will win no prizes for its prose" and that it "contains some exceedingly awful descriptions," yet this piece of garbage has sold millions of copies! If the word literature heard that it was being used in conjunction with this book, the word literature would anthropomorphize, slap you in the face, lament its sad loss of reputation, and promptly commit suicide. And you, whoever you are, who have bought this drivel and championed it, are the cause; you are the cause of the death of literature.

This book is simply emblematic of everything that is wrong with America. Its appeal as "Mommy Porn" is a realization of every fear held by a daddy. It is the nightmare that keeps daddy awake at night--that his seemingly lovely wife (the mother of his children)harbors fantasies of being abused, dominated, and thoroughly violated in every conceivable way, and if you like this book, that's exactly what you are saying about yourself.

Less shocking, is that this book is the creation of Erika Leonard James, who found her inspiration in Stephanie Meyer's, Twilight. James actually modeled the characters off of Edward and Bella, the main characters of, Twilight; yet another indictment of James' lack of imagination.

Twilight:

Are you on team Edward or team Jacob? If you have an answer to this question, I hope to hell you are a twelve year old girl. If not, I'm sorry that you have no friends (other than your cats) and I want to tell you to be patient because your braces and head gear will come off soon--you've waited 36 years, what's a couple more?

Again, it's not the plot line I disagree with (well, not entirely); what sane person wouldn't be drawn in by a love triangle between a vampire, a werewolf, and a human high schooler? Forget the retarded premise; at least it is science fiction and not strictly bored housewife erotica. What's truly offensive is that a woman who completed high school and received a B.A. in English from Brigham Young University writes about as well as a thirteen year old who scribbles in her diary at night with a flashlight, and the covers pulled over her head. Even more disturbing is that the story came to Meyer in a dream she had about a human girl who was in love with a vampire who thirsted for her blood. Who the hell has dreams like that? Give Meyer credit though, she turned what was obviously good reason to seek professional psychological help into uncanny, and seriously un-deserved success. Continuing with that avenue of disappointment, Twilight has not only earned Meyer hundreds of millions of dollars, it has also netted her a "British Book Award" (beating out the nerd loved, J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter books), and the book itself has been translated into 37 languages (a simple job for the translator); this last bit is the best because the cancer that is Twilight, has spread from America, infecting millions of un-suspecting, dim witted, barely literates around the globe.

Anything by Nicholas Sparks:

Much like the two authors listed above, Nicholas Sparks continues to be an insult to all serious writers who have ever lived, unlike the two above, he has done it for more than one decade. I will describe a Nicholas Sparks book for you: Two people who are hopelessly in love experience a tragedy, preferably somewhere warm. Which book am I talking about? ALL OF THEM! Each and every one of his books is a recycled version of the last; just change the name, the city, and the tragedy. Unfortunately, Sparks' extremely formulaic and predictable stories have won over the hearts of millions of depressed, love starved, and somewhat masochistic readers all over the globe. This adoration has translated into billions of dollars and more than half a dozen movie deals. That being said, at least he can write somewhat credibly (unlike the two aforementioned authors) and that is the only positive thing I will say about him.

As reasonably intelligent, I (and you should too) find the success of these authors to be nauseating and endemic of our modern society. Too many talentless morons are not only becoming rich with their pointless and mind-numbing drivel, but are receiving critical acclaim. They are a slap in the face to every true artist who has ever died penniless and forgotten. But it doesn't have to be this way. Wake up America! Stop wasting your time consumed by sex, wealth, and fame. Give your attention to those endeavors that are not only worthwhile but enriching culturally, spiritually, and intellectually. Disassociate yourselves from the senseless rabble! It is time for an intellectual revolt and you can help lead the fight; put down Fifty Shades of Grey and pick up Catcher in the Rye.

Oh, Michael Bolton...

The Cleaning Fairy

Because it was an absolutely beautiful Sunday afternoon, I was sitting on the couch watching the New York Yankees take on the Detroit Tigers. I asked my wife if she planned on sitting down to watch the game with me--she muttered something about there being a Yankees game on every day (I couldn't really hear everything she said because at that exact moment, Derek Jeter smacked a single up the middle, bringing his average to a league leading .396), but I remember thinking something about the fact that she was right and we were so lucky to be living in New York City where something like 156 of the 162 games are televised. In any case, while I was enjoying the game, I noticed that my wife kept going in and out of the kitchen. She would look in my direction every once in a while and I started to become concerned because there was a serious look of alarm growing on her face. However, rather than push the issue, I knew (my wife being who she is) that she would tell me what was bothering her soon enough. Around the third inning, that time finally came--my wife, Melissa, called me into the kitchen. She pointed to the wall behind the garbage can and asked if I knew how that area got clean; I knew this was a trap. I shrugged my shoulders and kept my mouth shut. She talked at some length about how disgusting that area gets, how bits of food and other filth gets stuck to the wall and how difficult it is to clean it all off. I listened dutifully with a sheepish look on my face until she finished. She then asked me again if I knew how that area gets clean; I told her that of course I did, kissed her on the cheek and went back into the living room to watch the game; mercifully, she did not press the issue, she simply sighed to herself and disappeared into the bathroom for twenty minutes or so.

You cannot imagine the relief I felt when she let the matter drop. You see, my wife is a very sensitive soul--she is troubled by the existence of things that you and I try not to think about on a daily basis: the Devil, Ghosts, and of course, the Cleaning Fairy! We have been married four years now and while I tease her every once in a while about her fear of the supernatural, mostly we just gloss over the subject, afraid to say anything concrete frightened that the words will give substance to her fears. However, while entities like demons and ghosts can be malevolent, the Cleaning Fairy is a kind spirit; my wife's unnatural trepidation of this character is wholly unwarranted! Basically it works like this: my wife will spend a few days telling me how badly something needs to be cleaned; for example, "Nick, the toilet is disgusting! Don't you think it is about time someone cleaned it?" Usually, I am in complete agreement, and said area/appliance really is revoltingly dirty and I am secretly happy she has mentioned it because the words need to be said out loud for the process to begin; it's like a magical incantation. The next part is the most difficult one, I have to ignore the object that is filthy for as long as possible (as the Cleaning Fairy is unpredictable, this may take anywhere from 2 days to a week). Now, I know the Cleaning Fairy will eventually show up, but my wife lacks patience; the same day she complains that something is dirty, she expects to come home from work to find everything spotless, but I know better--since I am a work from home dad, who also takes care of his child all day long, when is the Cleaning Fairy supposed to find the opportunity to clean the toilet or the bathtub or do the dishes when my son, Declan and I are running around the house all day? The Cleaning Fairy enjoys her anonymity and has kept her identity a secret since the first man and woman set up house together; she's not just going to reveal herself to me because my wife lacks patience! But this is something you can't say to my wife; she wants the spirit in and out of her house as soon as possible. What follows is, Melissa mopes around the house, constantly checking on the toilet and bathtub and everything else she wants cleaned and shakes her head and mutters under her breath when the work isn't done; can you imagine having to watch/listen to that for 2 days to a week! It's exhausting. At least I can take solace from the fact that I know the work is going to get done. I have to be realistic too; the Cleaning Fairy has a lot of houses to clean (apparently she's not as powerful as Santa Clause who can deliver presents to all the kiddies in the world overnight, but let's face it, cleaning a toilet is a lot more complicated and time consuming than dropping off a gift). In any case, after a few days my toilet bowl is sparkling, my bathtub is grime free, and all the bits of food behind the kitchen garbage pan have miraculously disappeared!

The Cleaning Fairy may not get the kind of exposure that some other supernatural entities do (the Devil, Ghosts, Santa Clause), but she is a hero in my eyes; the work she does is tireless, and at times, downright nasty. If it wasn't for the Cleaning Fairy we would all be living in squalor and there should be a day dedicated in celebration of everything she does, maybe sometime in May just before Mother's Day? Thank you Cleaning Fairy--you allow my wife and I more time to spend together, and therefore help us to have a happier, healthier relationship! Every married couple in the world owes you a sincere debt of gratitude...