First--Soap: Done. I have the newly-printed stack of receipts here in front of me and will be emailing everyone individually. If you don't hear from me by tomorrow, email ME, please! List of soaps sent here (link active when list is completed).
Frogs freak me out. They just do. And we're crawling with 'em out here. There have been times, sitting in our living room trying to enjoy a movie, when the din of the horny frogs has been deafening. When you live out in the country, and there's no other ambient noise, frog-serenading can really get annoying. I have asked Alex to go out and shoot one, on occasion, but he refuses. And what really creeps me out is, no matter how many of them you can hear, you can almost never manage to see one. Until now. Alex caught a couple of bullfrogs in the koi pond last night (so much for my comforting theory that my pond full of tadpoles will grow up to be cute, small, green tree-frogs), and got these pictures.
I seriously, seriously, do not want to look at bullfrogs. I think it's childhood trauma from a time when some anonymous person put an ENORMOUS, ugly, hideous bullfrog in our mailbox. Dad wasn't home when we discovered him, and none of us (me, my mom, my sister) wanted to touch the thing--it wasn't the frogness of him, but the big, fat, squooshy SIZE of him. Finally my mother, genius that she is, went and got a giant spatula and extricated the frog from the mailbox like it was some giant, mutant amphibian pancake. The experience left scars.
Next--I am sick to death of "Lost." I know we'll wind up watching the next season, because Alex is still a fan. I know that there are groups of people who are SO into this show that it borders on cult status. And yes, I see the draw, the fun of speculating, trying to figure things out. But seriously--this would have been best, in my opinion, as a mini-series. Something that moved along faster and provided satisfaction for its viewers, doled out a bit at a time until an ultimate conclusion that answered at least most of the questions. Am I the only person in America who feels this way?
Also under the category of television-induced nausea: We TiVo'd the finale of "American Idol" just so we could skip to the end and see who won. The "real" winner had already been eliminated, so we didn't much care, but of the two that were left, yes, Taylor Hicks was the obvious choice. That said, I am SO sick of this guy since the end of the competition, I could throw up. He is foisted upon us on television, in magazines, on the internet, everywhere we look, and here are three of his frequent utterances which I can only interpret to mean that Taylor Hicks needs me to punch him in the face: "Soul Patrol." STOP THIS NOW. Referring to himself as "Tay-Tay." Holeeee Schmoley. And finally, talking about taking a song and "Taylorizing" it. Seriously, America? You blew this one, big-time. Now this insufferable egomaniac will be in our faces for months to come. Or maybe he'll just face quietly and politely away, like Carrie Underwood (who?).
Continuing in the television category, there is a commercial currently airing for Six Flags' 45th Anniversary Celebration. In the commercial, there is a short scene toward the end, in which children rush forward to greet superhero figures--Batman being most prominently positioned on the screen. I had seen this commercial two or three times, and something kept bothering me about the "send the little children unto me" superhero sequence. It flashes by in an instant, but still--something in my subconscious mind registered a something disturbing happening. So I used my trusty TiVo to do a frame-by-frame analysis. Here is what I found--you be the judge. Creepy?Unfortunately, the final shot, as you can see, is obscured, so documented proof of any superhero pedophelia is not to be had...unless that little girl in the foreground could be reached for questioning.
One last thing, while we're talking television. In the promo for the FOX show, "So You Think You Can Dance?" they show a horrific image of a guy totally blowing a flip and SMASHING his face into the floor. This produces, in me, a gasp, grimace, and covering of my eyes, while I say, "OOOOOohhhhhhhh!!!" When I open my eyes, I look at my husband, who is SMILING! When I point this out, he just laughs and says, "Hey, he had it comin'."
We are truly from different planets, this man and I.