The Gender Wars: Mystery Edition

New, spritely little Marple.                     

So, I have recently been rediscovering my absolute love of Agatha Christie. And it all started because the Austin Public Library has like everything the BBC has ever made on DVD. And they will loan you a whole season for three weeks. It’s awesome. Anyway, I discovered in this way that the BBC redid the Miss Marple mysteries in the last few years, starting in 2004, with this adorable lady. If you are unfamiliar with the series, it’s about a little old lady, Miss Jane Marple, a spinster who knits and crochets, who has a mind “like a bacon slicer” and who gives naughty murderers their comeuppance.  The books were written between 1920 and like 1973, and I read most of them in elementary school. Which I am sure had severe psychological repercussions on my impressionable mind.

Aged, Turkey Wattle Marple

So I have always liked Agatha Christie’s books, but I have always hated the Marple movies, because of the people they would get to play her. Miss Marple is age-defying. She is scrappy and smart. And this is who they got to play her for most of the 1970s and 1980s. Now, no offense to this lady, but she really is mostly dead. And she has a wattle. My Miss Marple most definitely does not have a wattle. I prefer my Marple with a little gumption.

So, I have been loving these new Marples. Of course, eventually I ran out, well except for wattle Marples, so I started watching the Poirots. For the uninitiated, Hercule Poirot is a Belgian detective living in England who had a fastidious manner and a perfect moustache who peppers his speech with little French words that are super annoying if you’re 10 years old and don’t speak French. But he has a style about him, and a certain something (I would have said je ne sais qua, but I can’t spell French either). 

And low and behold, there are crazy differences between these two detectives, that I would say mostly revolve around their genders. Oh Agatha Christie, could I ever write an article about you. Here is a sampling:

And of course Poirot has his own issues. He is from Belgium, which everyone in the books treats like the most foreign place imaginable. And you know, Christie doesn’t do it perfectly, but she does show how this dude who is totally un-British has his own awesomeness. Don’t get me started on how both detectives are othered by the people around them. (Othering: fancy word for the process by which people are made to feel different from or other than what is perceived as normal). 

In any case, I feel like I’m getting a new appreciation for what Agatha was trying to do. When I was a kid, Miss Marple drove me crazy. I was always like, “Just tell people you can solve murders already! Come. On!” It’s was always this “Oh inspector, if you have the time you might want to check so and so’s alibi because I noticed that he is hiding the fact that he has a peg leg.” Or “That man reminds me of so and so from the village. Oh village life is so interesting. He killed his whole family with a shovel. Isn’t that quaint.” Damn it woman, say what you mean! Now though, it seems like that’s the only way she could get the men in charge to hear her. 

It also made me totally crazy that everyone treats her like an idiot. If someone patted my head and

Rutherford's Marple: Not a sweet old thing:

called me a sweet old thing, I would punch them in the face. But good ole Jane relishes in people underestimating her. Cause in the end, that sweet old thing is sending you to the gallows, probably by next Tuesday. 

Of course, when I was ten I didn’t know much about the women’s movement or age discrimination. But I did learn a lot about strychnine and digitalis. Thanks Agatha! And I was probably learning a little about how to work in a system that will often treat you like you’re a moron if you have lady parts. Anyway, here’s to strong women everywhere, and good ole Agatha and Jane in particular.

Secret Bacon Milkshake

In the quest to get one’s shit together, it really would be nice if people would fight fair. I have been trying to be better about what I eat, and I've been cutting out sweets. I haven’t had so much as a teaspoon of sugar this week, and I’ve been invited to not one, but two chocolate events. TWO. CHOCOLATE events. A gourmet chocolate tasting and an all you can eat chocolate extravaganza. Come on world, quit joking. What’s a girl to do? I’m predicting that a girl is to struggle with her conscience, and then eat some chocolate. 

Meanwhile, this is what Jack in the Box is up to. They have unveiled a secret bacon milkshake. It’s not on the menu, but if you know it’s there you can ask for it. I guess they’re trying to be hip and mysterious. With bacon. Like you do.

Thank you Jack in the Box?

I don't even want this and I want it. Why does bacon sound good with everything? Even when it sounds weird, it sounds good. I would eat bacon with anything (if the anything to bacon ratio was right). If you offered me bacon gloves, I would wear them. And then I would eat them.

And for you vegetarians out there, you too can experience the weird, weird joy of a bacon milkshake. Because they are using vegetarian bacon flavor courtesy of Torani. Thanks Torani! I’ll categorize that under another of the things we didn’t know we needed. Like shoes for dogs, protein ketchup, and shake weights. Just kidding. The world has always needed dog clothes.

I find this gross and weird, but I still want to try it. Edible curiosity, I guess. Or insanity. One of those.

What Men Want

Today, I finally figured out what men want.  It came from such an unlikely place. I was half watching this movie out of the corner of my eye today while I was doing some work, and it seemed pretty terrible. It was made in the 70s and it was like Red Tide set on a German U-Boat during World War II. You know, I’m taking the ship, no this is my ship, wait now it’s my ship. Well that’s the first hour of the movie, and then I decide that is plenty. So I hit the menu button. And the title is “The Land that Time Forgot.” And I think, wrong movie? 

Nope. This movie, after an hour on a uboat, puts these people on an island with dinosaurs. And it being the seventies, within one minute they have killed one of these dinosaurs. And I think. I’ve got it. I’ve cracked the code. I know what men want.

Men want to fight a dinosaur. 

There is no way this movie was originally about dinosaurs. Literally half of the movie is a standard war flick. But somewhere, some man was like, you know what would be better than submarines? Dinosaurs on a submarine. 

Humans are at the absolute top of the food chain. We can pretty much live anywhere we want. I mean, maybe don’t go swimming in shark-infested waters without a taser, but generally things are fine. We love stories where people get eaten by an alligator or their cat or whatever, but that is not the norm anymore. But somewhere, in the back of their minds, I imagine men feeling just a little cheated. Cause the biggest, baddest opponent they could take out, has been dead like 2 million years (or you know 65 million years ago when you check wikipedia. Damn, that’s a long time ago). 

very realistic dinosaur used in The Land that Time Forgot

So, there are a billion movies and TV shows where the whole point is to outsmart, outshoot, outrun, outwhatever a dinosaur. Jurassic Park? Get away from that dinosaur. Terra Nova? Let’s time travel so we have to fight dinosaurs. Godzilla? Man that looks like a dinosaur. And then of course there’s The Butterfly Effect (the Ray Bradbury one not that thing with Ashton Kutcher) where a man time travels with his elephant gun just to shoot a dinosaur. Great. You killed a dinosaur, now the whole world is messed up and we have a dictatorship, are you happy, now? (The answer to that is of course, well duh. I killed a dinosaur). 

 

I don’t know if I speak for all women, but I think that most women probably don’t have a need to try and kill a dinosaur. I want to travel the world and have a maid and eat magic chocolate, but if someone was like “come on, we’re going to go fight a dinosaur,” I’d be like “that’s great, but did you have any vampires I could hang out with?”

Stupid Caffeine, A Love Story

So, I am currently trying to break up with caffeine. I’ve tried in the past, and you know, caffeine just didn’t want to hear any of that mess. Caffeine said, “Oh girl, stop playing. You’ll be back.” And I was. Again and again. 

I’m not really into coffee or lattes or any of that. I’m a diet dr. pepper kind of girl. A few years ago, I gave up coca cola, which was a feat not unlike climbing a mountain barefoot with a monkey as a blindfold. Because I love coca cola. I love it like well-adjusted people love actual human beings. 

Slurm:Futurama::Coca Cola: Earth

Here is an analogy for those of you who watch Futurama, or you know, who can read this summary of a Futurama episode. Slurm is the most popular soda in Futurama and Fry’s favorite drink. And in one episode we find out where Slurm comes from. Out of this alien’s butt ( below). Does Fry care? No. He just wants more. And when I saw this episode, I thought to myself, “exactly.” They have captured exactly how I feel about soda. I don’t care if you can use it as paint thinner. I don’t care if coca cola is an evil corporation. And, I certainly don’t care that you can use it with lemon to get rid of all of your teeth. Teeth are fleeting. Soda is forever. 

But despite this love, I dumped real coca cola, and started going out with his ugly cousin diet soda. And we got along fine. I mean, he didn’t pull out my chair or open doors or anything, but he could dance okay. And if I shut my eyes real hard, I could pretend he was the real thing. 

But now dear friends, it is time to kick that ugly cousin to the curb. Well, I mean there may still be the occasional booty call, but we won’t be going steady anymore. Stupid healthy living. Grrr. 

So, now my caffeine withdrawals are punching me in the back of the head, and I feel like I have some sort of slower version of mono. But I’m giving it my all. And I’m tired at 10 PM, so mission accomplished I guess. Sigh. 

Caffeine I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!!! I love you! Come baaaaack!

I googled "sexy caffeine" and found this. You're welcome ladies.

Soda-free for five days and counting.

WTF TLC

My reaction to new TLC programming.

I was recently shocked to find that TLC, (I think they had to stop calling themselves the learning channel just like KFC had to stop saying it served chicken) has found the floor of reality show programming. The very, very bottom.  I mean, I knew they were out there searching for it every day, but I am here today to tell you that they have achieved the practically unattainable. They got closer with Toddlers and Tiara's, and with Hoarder's: Buried Alive, but now I think they have finally scraped the very bottom of the reality TV barrel. 

But Jen, you say, what do you have against bad reality television? And my answer to you is nothing. Absolutely nothing. I love bad reality TV.  I really do. Especially mean-spirited reality television. Why would you watch someone giving out roses on the Bachelor when you can watch someone giving out herpes on the Jersey Shore? Have you really gone your whole life without watching a grown man cry on television because he’s afraid of a puppy? You are missing a lot. 

You might say that my love of horrible reality programming started with the show Joe Millionaire. What a concept. They took all these women and convinced them that this guy was a millionaire. It was like the Bachelor with lies. Or, maybe like the Bachelor with lots more lies. 

And let us not forget Blind Date and 5th wheel. Why guess what your date is thinking when a thought bubble can do the work for you. And Blind Date did a lot for society. For instance, my middle school students asked me at the time if all dates involved hot tubs. No sweetie, not all dates. Only if you are really, really lucky. 

And don't get me started on Flavor of Love. Fantastic. Who wants to watch regular people try to make out with each other when you can watch crazy people go at it.  And then hit each other. And then go at it some more. And of course Rock of Love provided equity in skankified formatting. 

Man Who Is Addicted to Having Sex with His Car

And yet, here I am with my willingness to love even the worst episode of Dance Mom or Toddlers & Tiaras, and I am faced with the unwatchable. What now TLC? What now. I mean, it was bad enough when you were showing how creepy people are in their houses filled with dead cats. Now you have introduced My Strange Addiction. And the promos make my skin crawl.http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/tv/my-strange-addiction

I don’t want to watch people eating cat food and nail polish and rocks. I don’t want to know that someone carries around their husband’s earn and sometimes eats the ashes. My god. And now. Now there’s a guy who is addicted to having sex with his car. Now I have to watch which include video of this man making sweet love to his car? Oh just quit it. I throw up my white flag. I give up. We have gone too far as a society. Let’s go back to the nice and normal days when people had to go to the internet to find out things they could never unlearn.