Uncategorized – Page 7

Pursuing 1990’s Trivia

On February 23, 2010

Whatever happened to the nineties, as in the 1990’s? There’s a Trivial Pursuit game with questions just from that decade that I and some relatives played this evening after dinner. Our ages ranged from 5 to 57, and none of us knew any of the answers. We made a couple of lucky guesses, and with a few gimmes we were finally able to end the game, but not without a struggle. It didn’t help that one of the players was from Italy.

The 90’s were a blur to all of us. Of course, to base a whole board game on trivia questions from one decade meant that the questions were somewhat obscure. On each of those little cards, there are six questions, and there must be a hundred cards with the game, or more, so that’s 600 facts about the 90’s. 600 things didn’t even happen in the 90’s, so some of those questions may have been made up. We certainly wouldn’t have known the difference.

I was buried under small children in the 90’s, so the big news of most of my days was who had hit whom and how it allegedly started and why that was a lie because it really started this way. The only music I had in my car were kids songs with lyrics like, “Riding along, ding dong, I see a cow – you do? Oh wow.” If these songs weren’t on in the car, then the fighting escalated. The soothing sounds of stupid lyrics had a calming effect on my children.

At home the TV had Rugrats on or nothing at all. I couldn’t watch news because of the violence, and I couldn’t watch sitcoms because of the sex. My husband and I had to sneak and watch this stuff in the bedroom – like it was some kind of news porn. I could have read the paper, but when you have young children, all the doom and gloom in the world is frightening. It also makes you feel guilty. How could you bring innocents into the world with wars, scandals, natural disasters, airline crashes, and the Back Street Boys?

So I missed all the music, all the news, all the actors – the only movies I saw were animated – everything that might have made the 90’s a decade to remember.

I liked the Trivia of the 60’s and 70’s because there was so much going on. The music was outstanding – my daughter and her friends know all the words to so many of the songs from then, which always surprises me. I didn’t know any songs from my parents’ generation, despite their protests that the likes of Lawrence Welk was good listening.

After playing tonight I don’t actually feel that bad. I know if there were a Trivial Pursuit game for moms of the 90’s, I’d beat everyone. I know all about Chucky’s fears on Rugrats, Mufasa’s demise in “The Lion King,” what kinds of animals Milo and Otis were (and their genders), and how Chance, Sassy, and Shadow made it home in “Homeward Bound.” So heads-up, Trivial Pursuit. If you want me to win, throw out some of those questions, such as, “What year did the Back Street Boys break up?” (which I just made up – although this would be a typical question) and ask stuff like, “What was the heroine’s name in Beauty and the Beast?” That kind of trivia would make me feel like a winner rather than some vacant headed bimbo. Shame on you.

Be Your Own Self

By Suzanne Olsen

On February 21, 2010

In Uncategorized

I recently heard on the radio some advice that a psychologist gave to teenagers, and it was profound. I am being sarcastic, because this learned advisor said: “Just be yourself.”

That’s what they told us back in the day, and I still don’t know what it means. There are plenty of people who I wish would NOT be themselves. If a person is naturally selfish, annoying, or gossipy, would you want them to continue being this way?

This “be yourself” advice is flawed from the get-go. Would you advise an axe murderer to “be yourself?” Do they tell people in jail to be themselves?

You go into the self-help section of a bookstore and every one of the titles is about trying to fix what’s wrong with you. There aren’t titles that say, “To Be a Success, Just Be Yourself.” If there were, I would have bought it just to figure out how people figure out what their self is. Curiously, all the books are written by psychologists, and all of them are trying to give you “10 Steps to a Better You.” If I’m supposed to be my self, then why would I want to change for the better? Isn’t being my self my ultimate goal?

My own personal self changes depending on circumstances. With my friends I’m loud, rowdy, and goofy. With a boss I’m quiet and attentive. With my children I’m trying to present a good example. I can’t image which one of these selves I’d pick to be all the time? And at heart, I’m a bitch. Is that the self they want me to be? It would sure make my life easier not to have to be making nice all the freaking time.

Even the simplest things like wardrobe choices vary depending on which self will be wearing it. If I’m going out partying with friends, I might wear something tight and low cut. If I’m going to dress my church self, I’m going to wear a modest skirt and sweater.

I don’t know anyone who has only one self all the time. My daughter is completely different around me than she is around her girlfriends. And they get really polite with me and don’t cuss, but I’ve overheard them when they didn’t know, and they are potty mouths. My son gets very polite and outgoing around everyone but me – to me he’s impatient and persnickety.

My guess is that they are advising kids not to be posers or fake. However, this is the very essence of being a teenager. We were always faking something. We faked being nice to someone in our group, or we faked being coy to the cute guy we had a crush on, or we faked being sick to get out of PE. We even faked boobs. Before boobs became so high tech, we used toilet paper. We had to wear bras to be socially accepted, and if the bra had nothing to go in it naturally, toilet paper worked just fine. I remember coming out of a bathroom after putting wads of toilet paper in my bra, and apparently I must not have gotten one lodged in there, because a little way down the hall a boob-shaped wad fell out of my dress. I’d felt it slip out and heard it hit the floor like a brick. I scurried forward and pretended I didn’t know anything about it, clutching my three ring binder to my chest until I could adjust my lopsidedness.

But my boobs, as interesting as they are, should not be a source of distraction from this important topic. I’ve come to the conclusion that psychologists keep telling teenagers to be themselves because it’s the only advice they’re willing to give out for free. They probably figure that those people who want to discover the meaning may even pay for some 60-minute couch sessions. It’s probably a marketing scheme. Next time someone says that around me, I’m going to fire back, “How ‘bout you be your own self?” or, if nothing else, I’ll say, “Which one?”

Odd Jobs

By Suzanne Olsen

On February 19, 2010

In Uncategorized

With this economy, people are out looking for work, and if there aren’t jobs in your area of expertise, you might want to consider some of these non-traditional jobs I found on Google.

Here’s one – a zoo artificial inseminator. Think about that one. No, go ahead, take your time – I’ll wait. Pretty crazy, huh? I’m just wondering how you train for such a position, and how do you apply? What would you list under “Experience?” “I have impregnated my wife four times, and I had extensive practice before I got married, though I haven’t done anything with animals so far.”

Here’s another job – a telephone psychic. What I’d like to know is what the interview would be like:

Interviewer: Let’s test your psychic ability. What is my next question going to be?

Psychic: You’re going to ask if I’ve ever been a phone psychic before?

Interviewer: No, I was going to ask if you’d be available to work on weekends.

Psychic: Oh.

Interviewer: I’m afraid you don’t have the skills needed for this job.

Psychic: Best two out of three?

Another job I found online was a jelly donut filler. Now that’s a job I could get into. But I’m having a hard time picturing it. Does the person stand on an assembly line, clutch a soft donut, insert a jelly gun, and squirt? I’m thinking that, with a little experience, the person who gets this job could probably move up to a zoo inseminator.

I like the sound of this one – a truffle hunter. Truffles are funguses (fungi) that the French hire people and their pigs to dig out of the dirt because someone decided they’re an exquisite delicacy. I wonder who cooked up the first one of these. “Hey, look, a giant fungus under the dirt! Let’s eat one!” This was no doubt a French person, because they live on the premise that you can make the most disgusting thing on earth tasty with the right seasonings. That’s how they got people to eat snails. If I had a trusty pig, I’d be a truffle hunter in a heartbeat.

I’m going to come full circle with my last job – working at a sperm bank. Say you meet someone at a party and they ask what you do. Do you tell them the truth? If someone told me they worked at a sperm bank, I wouldn’t want to shake their hand. Not that they use their hand for anything in particular that I know of, it’s just one of those things I’d be squeamish about. If I had that job I’d say I was a teller.

Other interesting jobs I came across were Magician’s Assistant, Fortune Cookie Writer, Snake Milker, Dog Food Tester, Golf Ball Diver, and Dice Inspector. I hope if you are unemployed, you’ll consider these off-the-beaten-path careers, if for no other reason, it will make you way more interesting at parties.

Dashing Off to the Olympics on TV

By Suzanne Olsen

On February 12, 2010

In Uncategorized

I am enjoying watching the pageantry of the Olympics opening ceremony so this is going to be swift and sweet.

I love the creativity of the show – I love that it’s so unique. I also love the players are real looking people and not the most beautiful, the most polished, the most picture perfect. Canada has done an excellent job and I’m so proud to be her closest neighbor.

I cried when Georgia’s contingent walked into the arena.

I found some skiing terms submitted by Brian Lundberg I copied off the internet in 2003 that I’m going to use for my blog in the interest of time. The torch is coming in 7 minutes!

Alp: One of a number of ski mountains in Europe. Also a shouted request for assistance made by a European.

Bones: There are 206 in the human body. No need for dismay, however, the two bones of the middle ear have never been broken while skiing.

Gloves: Designed to be tight around the wrist to restrict circulation, but no so close fitting as to allow any manual dexterity; they should also admit moisture from the outside without permitting any dampness within to escape.

Nuts: Male area, prone to painful damage when skiing over small trees.

SKI: A shout to alert people ahead that a loose ski is coming down the hill. Another warning skiers should be familiar with is “Avalanche!” (which tells everyone that a hill is coming down the hill).

Skier: One who pays an arm and a leg for the opportunity to break them.

Thor: The Scandinavian god of acheth and painth.

I’ll close with this last pun, which has nothing to do with athletes or the Olympics, but I neglected to add last night:

In theory, housebreaking your dog is a good idea, but I warn you, it won’t look good on paper.

The torch is coming!!!!

Am I a Yo-Yo for Hula Hooping?

By Suzanne Olsen

On February 5, 2010

In Uncategorized

My friend signed up for a hula-hoop class that she can’t go to and she doesn’t want to let this incredible opportunity slip by so she’s talked me into going to the class as her proxy. I’m to learn the proper technique and teach it to her.

She called me twice to beg me to do this. Once was early this morning because undoubtedly I was her first choice since I have a hard time saying no. I did say no, though. But I left the door open a crack by agreeing to allow her to call me back if she’d talked to all her other friends and they had the good sense to pass. She just called back and said no one else would go (fancy that) and would I please?

Let me ask you this. Why would it take 2 hours to learn how to hula-hoop? Granted, I haven’t been able to do it since I was a kid, and I don’t know if 2 hours is long enough for me to learn, but what if people in the class pick it up really quickly. What are they going to do all that time?

I agreed to go because she was so earnest in her groveling, and it seemed to mean so much to her, and Lord knows I could use the exercise. In fact, I’m thinking that my body shape may lend itself to hula hooping. If I can keep the thing riding on top of my spare tire I may re-master this valuable skill that used to engage me and my friends for a week or two in our 4^th grade youth.

Hula hooping isn’t really a skill that, once you’ve mastered it, you engage in that often. It’s fun for a while, but then what do you do with it? Just stand there rocking your hips around? For what? I bet there are people who can do all kinds of tricks and entertain themselves and others with their expertise. I never wanted to learn anything that thoroughly. At the basketball game last night they had some guys doing tricks with bicycles that you can’t believe. They were riding backwards on the handlebars, riding up ramps and doing flips over the bikes in the air. Me, I just rode a bike with my feet on the pedals. These guys must practice for hours and hours.

Same thing with yo-yo’s. If I could get one to go up and down I figured I was a successful yo-yoer. But then someone comes along who can walk the baby and do a loop-de-loop and shoot an apple off someone’s head with one. I guess there is merit in learning such a skill. My yo-yos mostly ended up in knotted wads that I’d lost interest in long before I got them untangled.

Perhaps hula-hooping can be my claim to fame, my chance to be in the spotlight. Tomorrow I will show up at hula-hoop class and perhaps learn to jump through a hula-hoop like it was a lariat, or have someone toss it over my head and I’ll catch it on my waist and start gyrating it around, walking up and down the floor, shaking mariachis and balancing a plate on the tip of one foot. Now I’m getting excited!

Who knows what I might be able to learn in two whole hours. I wonder if that’s going to be enough time. I better make sure to arrive early!

Am I a Yo-Yo for Hula Hooping