So You Think You Can Ruin My Favorite Show

Just as another lackluster season of American Idol ends, so begins another season of one of my favorite shows: So You Think You Can Dance. Am I the only one who sometimes wishes they had gone with a show title that wasn't such a mouthful? Even just calling it "America's Favorite Dancer" since that's what they're searching for... or "American Dancer" like "American Idol" would've been easier too. I mean, those titles suggestions are admittedly kind of lame, but really, whoever was in the room when they voted on "So You Think You Can Dance" as the winning show title doesn't really have room to talk.

Anyway, the new season started the other night (I don't even know what night, it just showed up on my DVR list like a little gift from heaven) and I have some more grievances to air with Fox over the direction they are taking with this show. I know. But they brought this upon themselves.

Granted, they've changed the format around ever since the show started, so I should just get used to it. Like, does anyone remember Lauren Sanchez, the original host? Poor thing is to SYTYCD as Brian Dunkleman is to American Idol. Only Cat Deeley isn't nearly as big of a bitch as Ryan Seacrest, and would never go on live television and joke about the missing Lauren Sanchez. (For those who didn't watch this season of AI, Seacrest made a joke about Brian Dunkleman coming back, just one of many weird moments that make him a perfect candidate for his own Real Housewives franchise on Bravo. But I digress)

Anyway, the seasons have changed over the years, from the dancers switching partners every week, to having the same partner, which wasn't such a big deal to me. Then they added random styles like "Russian" replete with horrendous costumes. Not my cup of tea dance-wise, but it's good for some laughs, so whatevs. But these are just minor annoyances, like when the judges wet themselves over all of Sonya Tayeh's routines, most of which I just don't get. Sort of like her hair.

Last season you will recall they not only short-changed my season by an episode, but due to the World Series conflicting with the schedule, they didn't allow voting for the first couple of episodes. Which is sort of the entire point of the show: finding AMERICA'S Favorite Dancer. Not Nigel Lithgoe's Favorite Dancer. But the judges ultimately eliminated the people I would have eliminated, so I let that one slide.

But now, they're reformatting the entire process of the show. (Side note: I don't know if these changes are to make it more like Dancing With the Stars, but I for one don't even like that show) First of all, instead of having the show begin with the Top 20 dancers, they're only going to have a Top 10. I guess this means we can brace ourselves for an even shorter season than the last. Then, instead of the dancers being paired with each other, they are bringing in a cast of former contestants, or "All-Stars" (most of which are so memorable to me I had to look them up to figure out who the hell they were) and the dancers will be paired with a different "All-Star" each week. I will continue to put "All-Stars" in quotes because I refuse to take that title seriously. This is where it's reminding me wayyyy too much of DWTS. Because hey, trained dancers win that show too, so I really fail to see the difference now. Also, with "All-Stars" like Lauren in the mix, it vaguely reminds me of the "mentors" on American Idol this season. WHAT. A joke. Miley Cyrus was a mentor. You read that right. Miley Cyrus. What the hell kind of advice did they expect from her? "Hey y'all! *Smacks gum* So the way for y'all to become, like, famous and stuff *smack smack* is to have a daddy who's, like, already famous *smack* and, like, have him get you a show on the Disney Channel. *Smack smack* They'll pretty much take care of the rest of your career. *Smack*" Another one of Idol's expert "mentors": Adam Lambert. The same Adam Lambert who was just on last season. And lost. And whose very first album just came out. Like a week before the show. He was on Ellen before the mentor episode aired and even he was pretty miffed as to why they chose him. I guess a paycheck's a paycheck though.

In addition to these drastic changes to SYTYCD, the hot tamale train has permanently left the station. That's right, Mary Murphy has been replaced by MIA Michaels (Get it? She was MIA last season...and her name's Mia. I kill myself) as a permanent judge, and Mary will allegedly be back as a guest judge, but I won't hold my breath on that one. We'll see how this season pans out. I'm not going to lie, I am less than thrilled with these changes and I'm not afraid to take it off my DVR series list if it totally sucks. After all, I'm going to have to make room for The X Factor when that starts! At least there's one reality competition show for me to look forward to.

'Cause I'm A Blonde, Yeah Yeah Yeah!

Today, I couldn't take it anymore. I decided that today was the day I would get some mothereffing highlights! Actually, to be accurate I just decided that I needed to be blonder in any way, shape, or form. After perusing the interwebs for a viable hairdresser, and not finding anyone that jumped out at me, I saw online that Ulta carries the Frederic Fekkai hair color line. I've used it before and I had really liked the way it turned out, so I was just going to go a shade lighter with that for now. It's $30 well spent! Anyway, I had some other things I needed to do in the same area as the nearest Ulta, so I figured it was fate.

However, I got to the store and this particular Ulta didn't carry the line. Well. I browsed around but I didn't want to use the other brands. I mean, I've done it before but I have been trying so hard to grow my hair out and I didn't want to ruin all the progress. So I decided that this was in fact the real fate and I should just go ahead and get some highlights at the salon there. They didn't have anyone available for a couple of hours, but as fate would have it (AGAIN!) I had stopped there first and still had plenty of other shopping to do.

3:30, Toys R Us: Sale on the Pack N Play I needed to buy for my sweet niece to sleep in! Fate.

4:00, Williams Sonoma: Sprinkles cupcake mix (red velvet, my favorite!) AND Sarabeth's Strawberry Rhubarb jam??! The EXACT flavor I've been wanting to try??! Fate again!

4:07, Bath and Body Works: Sale on the soap I wanted to buy! Do I really have to say it? The shopping gods love me today.

4:15, Barnes and Noble: Squashy armchair free for me to sit in and read books I have no intention of buying? Hallelujah!

5:28, Ulta: Early for my appointment but I'll just read this magazine

5:35: Sit in chair and tell stylist "Make me a BLONDE again!"

5:45: La la la I'm going to be blonnnnnnndddddde!

5:47: Hmm. She's still working on the same hemisphere. How long does a partial highlight take here?

5:55: STILL working on the first of 3 sections of hair. I know I have a lot of luscious Italian hair, but really.

6:08: Sigh. Finally moved onto another section. Really hope I don't end up with one side of BLONNNNNDDDDE hair, one side of BLONDE hair and one side of blonde hair.

6:10: How is Jessica Biel on the cover of Vogue? What exactly is she promoting? Has she even worked in the last year?

6:11: OMG Katie Holmes is playing Jackie O in a movie??! The only thing worse than that was having to hear her warble "On My Own" from Les Miz like a cat in heat on Dawson's Creek. Oh, and watch her unsuccessfully attempt to dance and sing on SYTYCD. I guess when you agree to be a beard for Tom Cruise you feel you've earned the right to pretty much do whatever else you want.

6:37: She has finally reached the last section of hair and left me to set. Woo hoo! Won't be long now! I mean, since the dye has been on for an hour (on some parts at least) and my hair usually takes pretty quickly.

6:49: Still waiting...

7:03: Where is she? Shouldn't she at least come and check? I'm done with People and Vogue. My phone has died. I am BORED.

7:08: She has checked and it's apparently not ready. Everything really does move slower in the South. Even hair processing time. Although this IS the first time in a LONG time that I am having highlights put onto my actual natural hair. That may have something to do with it.

7:09: She has disappeared again presumably to the break room to text her boyfriend about how she's so bored and can't wait for her last client (me) to be done. That makes two of us, sweetheart.

7:15: She decided that it's finally time to put me under the dryer because gee, this is processing kinda slow!

7:17: La la la I love being under the dryer! I like to lean my head from side to side and listen to the foils crunch!

7:22: I could really use a massaging chair and maybe a foot rest and oooh a little tropical drink with an umbrella and maybe someone to fan me off and feed me grapes...Now that is a good idea for a salon!

7:35: Hurray! The hair is rinsed, I should be out of here in no time!

7:37: OOOWWWWW! Ow ow ow ow ow OW OWWW! Okay, I have a tough scalp so what the F is she combing my hair with? A lint roller?

7:42: This is the most painful blow dry I have ever had. She is inadvertently teasing my hair like a New Jersey hooker's as she dries it.

7:49: Hairdresser: "So...do you usually use conditioner?" F*@$. Well now I know why my hair is the most tangled it has ever been. This professional hair dresser didn't put conditioner in it after lightening it. Wow. Just wow. There are no words.

8:03: Done! After she put some product in it and brushed the poofiness out, it looks great! I guess sometimes beauty is pain.

8:05: La la la la la! I keep looking at myself in my rear view mirror. Being blonde again is like putting little rays of sunshine right there on my head. I feel happy! I feel euphoric! Maybe the bleach seeped into my brain cells...Oh well! Who cares? You don't have to be smart when you're a blonde! No one expects you to be anyway! Just kidding...sort of.

Class of... Aw, Crap I'm Getting Old

I am officially old. There, I said it. It's interesting how much things can change in such a short time. I had a thought the other night, when the radio was playing the late-night "club music": I have no desire to go clubbing. NONE. When did this happen? All I could think was it would be so much more fun (and not to mention cheaper) to hang out and drink wine at my house (maybe play a little Wii or Guitar Hero) then go to a nightclub. I hate crowds and waiting in line, only to have to pay a cover charge and buy expensive, watered-down drinks. I mean, this isn't to say I wouldn't ever go to a club. Hardly. I know I'd have fun, and I do love dancing. But gone is the desire to hit up the club scene 4 nights a week. Here's what it's like in your early 20's: Wednesday: it's Industry Night! Thursday: It's almost the weekend! Friday and Saturday: it is the weekend, duh! If you don't go out on these nights you are a LOSER!! Oh wait...It's Saturday night, and I am staying home watching Netflix and blogging. By choice. Huh. See, I didn't even realize this was happening.

Another sign I am getting old is not really so much a "sign" but a FACT-the fact that I graduated high school 10 years ago. TEN YEARS AGO. Old biddy. I also may or may not have found a hair of questionable color on my head. REALLY old biddy. There's no way to tell for sure though, seeing as how I ripped it out of my scalp immediately and went straight into denial. I'm SURE it was just a natural highlight. This is what I get for letting my natural hair color grow out.

This segued into thinking about class reunions, because I suppose this means I am about to have one, but I realized that Facebook has sort of defeated the purpose of reunions. I may not have seen many of my classmates in person in the last 10 years, but I've seen most of their profiles and pictures and status feeds, enough to know how everyone's doing. Do I really need to fly across the country to confirm they're not lying or photoshopping? I suppose it has the potential to be fun, though, but I'm not sure I want to be reminded so vividly just how old I'm really getting. And I have to be honest, the real reason I'd have any interest in going back to Roseville is Mikuni. The BEST sushi restaurant in the UNIVERSE. Perhaps if the RHS Class of 2000 reunion committee concedes to host the party AT Mikuni...well, then I really wouldn't be able to say no. OR if they hosted it at the new Harry Potter theme park! Now THERE'S a plan. It's a little far away from Sactown, but seriously. I'd enjoy myself, and really isn't that all that matters?

Jolly Good

Sometimes when I'm bored, I like to book imaginary trips online. As in, I will check the prices of plane tickets and hotels for random dates, and sometimes I like to check and see what shows will be in town (if it's a Faux York trip, for example, what's new on Broadway!) and decide which restaurants and shops I want to visit. You know, just to get a feel for what this vacation would really be like if we were to actually go on it. What? It's normal. And in case you were wondering, there is no good or bad time to go to Disney World. The hotel prices really don't change that much! And HELLO it's Disney World. Anyway, besides Disney World, which I frequently imagine trips to, I would give anything to go back to Europe again. There are so many places I haven't seen; but then on the other hand, I can't imagine going all the way there without stopping in Paris and London again. Paris is my favorite city in the world (that I've been to, anyway) and I really have this inexplicable affinity for London as well. I love London! I want to live in London! I want to ride the tube and pop on over to Claridge's for high tea and say hello to the constable and the barrister and then pip pip cheerio on down the high street! Jolly good! I don't know why I'm suddenly in a Charles Dickens hallucination, but you get my point.

It all reminds me of a conversation I had awhile back with my sister.

Sister: Sometimes I really miss living in London.
Me: *thoughtful sigh* I miss London too!
Sister: Right...But you never actually lived there
Me: *dismissively* Minor detail.

But I mean, seriously, sometimes I really miss it there! Which makes me wonder. Can you really miss a place in which you have spent approximately 2 weeks (not even consecutively)? I mean clearly, I have an overactive imagination. So in my head I've spent quite a bit more time than two measly weeks there, especially when you think of all the books, movies, and online adventures I've had. Or... maybe I was Queen Elizabeth in a past life. Then I'd obviously feel a draw to the country I helped shape. Duh. Yes, the more I think about it, I think that is the obvious conclusion for why I love British things, people and places. They are MY people... And things... and places. Right. Jolly good! Well...Carry on, then!

When In Doubt, Blame The Cat

Our recent move to North Carolina has been interesting to say the least. A mini roller coaster if you will. Okay, maybe not quite a roller coaster but more like Pirates of the Caribbean; everything's pretty much smooth sailing save for a couple of drop offs here and there.

Let me explain. In securing a place to live, we had to fight for the one we wanted to the death. They weren't keen on letting pets in, you see. Michael had to play his best poker face and we walked, well drove hundreds of miles, away and awaited our fate. But eventually they gave in and allowed us to have our sweet, adorable, hellacious little kitties. Small bump one: success!

Then we had a horrendous time trying to get in contact with the leasing office to get our lease signed and deposit paid (as we were doing all of this in another state, it was quite stressful), but again everything worked out fine and we got to move in to our beautiful new home.

This is when we found out that sometimes, things most of us take for granted as being included in a home, are considered superfluous and unnecessary to others. Like blinds, for example. Yes our lovely new home with windows and sliding doors in every room was not equipped with blinds. In trying to get permission to put some up (for you know, privacy) we came to discover that our landlords were aware of this, they were just "anti-blinds." But they reluctantly agreed to let us put some up as long as we paid for them and left them here when we move out. For "anti-blinds" people they sure were quick to allow us to leave them behind. But I digress.

In putting up the last of the vertical blinds in one of the guest rooms we discovered something else quite unpleasant. There was an odor quickly overtaking the room and permeating our lungs with its stench. Looking around, we saw that the litter box was in the room and I had just turned the fan on, so we thought maybe some used litter had flown about. We quickly moved the offending box downstairs but the stench lived on. Then we realized that the only explanation was that our precious angels of darkness must have coated the room down with a nice sheen of piss. We frantically tried to discover the point of origin, sniffing every square inch of carpet on our hands and knees, but to no avail. Eventually, after me scrubbing the entire carpet with Oxi-clean, and airing the room out all weekend, we had to call a professional. They couldn't come until Friday. Super! So we spent an entire week alternately cursing the piss painting minions of satan, and then guiltily showering them with love and affection. Finally the carpet cleaners arrived only to tell us that it was 100% not them. Whoops. Sorry, kitties! We love you, you sweet little baby angels!

Unable to locate the source of the offending odor, we still shelled out 75 bucks to get it cleaned because we just couldn't take it anymore. The awesome cleaning company even came back the next day and put an extra coat of cleaner on it free of charge.

Two days later Michael comes to me looking equal parts amused and pissed off. He knows what the smell is.

It's the godforsaken BLINDS. The blinds we had to buy and install into our rental. For the love of all things holy. We're going to have to buy those cats the biggest bag of Greenies Treats known to mankind.