MTV Video Music Awards 2011

Seriously? Are the MTV VMA's even relevant anymore? Let's start with the fact that Music TeleVision NO LONGER shows any music videos. Neither does MTV2. It's gotten so bad even VH1, MTV's red-headed stepchild, relies heavily on quality reality programming like "La La's Full Court Life" to stay afloat. Okay, so after a quick show listing lineup search, I discovered there is a 2 hour block of music videos starting at 6am. I think my point has been made.

This awards show is absolutely redonk. That's my quirky slang for Frigging RIDICULOUS!!!! Yet, I tuned in (halfway through, of course, I'm fashionably late like that). And I have this to say:

What's up with Jessie J., an average European one-hit wonder heading up the awards show band in the tackiest nude and black skintight jumpsuit rocking a leg brace in the most boring sit-down performances of flat, off-key and awkward renditions of past and present music hits that aren't hers? Talk about WORST. COVER. BAND. EVER. I feel for the audience. At least MTV graciously pulls away for a commercial break to rest my bleeding ears.

So Britney Spears received the Michael Jackson Inspirational Award? WTF is that? Oh, I know. An excuse to bring up MJ near the anniversary of his death while simultaneously incorporating maximum BS (that's Britney Spears) into the show. What disgusts me is the BS dance tribute through her music career where the girls get younger and younger as the songs get trashier and trashier.

Beyonce is not yet 30. Who cares that she's married to a man 11 years her senior with baby on the way? I don't, she's HAWT, HOTT, HOT! So what was with the ridiculously bedazzled mom outfit? Ask Kelly Rowland for some preggers fashion advice. Well, that may not be much better. Her "Project Runway" knockoff was a huge disaster.

I guess not THAT huge, since I think I may have been one of only 7 people to have tuned in to a single episode. Still...You and Jay-Z make a shit fuck ton (I'm rounding up) of money. Surely you can afford a decent stylist.

There was a commercial for Taylor Lautner's new movie Abduction.

I'm not saying it looks particularly good, but *fingers crossed* he has a better career than Robert Pattinson. I can't stand his fake American accent. Or the fact that he's dating Kristen Stewart. I'm not jealous or anything, it's just that she can't act. At all. And she seems like a bitch. I'm just saying...
Then there's the fact that Taylor Lautner is incredibly sexy. I say this knowing full well he is my brother's age and I'm trying to ignore the creep factor. But tan, and "RRRipped Like Jesus" with a killer smile beats RPatz bedhead anyday.

Really, Sir? It's called a brush, please run one through your hair. Or a comb. Fingers will work. I'm sure there is some girl somewhere willing to run her fingers through your hair. Please accept the next offer STAT.

I must say, I'm not that shocked by Lady Gaga's cross-dressing. After the raw meat dress from last year's VMA's, I, like the rest of America, held my breath in anticipation of how she could possibly top herself.

Then she did it. Not by dressing like a 1950's greaser, but by embodying the spirit of being a man so completely that he/she actually referred to "Gaga" as a 3rd party persona. I admire her for doing her own thing. I guess. Better than BS.

Russell Brand's tribute to Amy Winehouse. It's difficult listening to Russell Brand in general. But now he's talking about a serious subject matter. In that insane British accent. Not gonna lie, I just kept repeating random sentences in my head in a British accent instead of listening to what he said. Don't lie, you know you started speaking in tongues after his speech too. Now, let's continue the rant: Alcoholism and drug addiction are NOT DISEASES. Amy Winehouse had an amazing gift-a beautiful, soulful voice. She literally sat on top of the world with a record career many can't even get the courage to dream about and she sabotaged it at every possible chance. She had the opportunity to be a role model and do something good in her life, but Amy Winehouse chose to continue on her destructive path. There is nobody to blame but herself and the more MTV glamorizes her decision, the more they are socially accepting her fate and promoting it to the next generation.

I adore Katy Perry for being herself, but she wore a cube on her head. Her music is way too bubblegum-pop and overplayed for me, but it starts out catchy so I'll give her that. She named her cat Kitty Purry. I'm still not sure how I feel about that. Although I'm annoyed by her weird 80's persona, Kathy Beth Terry, it kind of reminds me of high school pictures of my friend, Jen.

But her last outfit at the VMA's was hideous and I cannot forgive such a faux-pas. There's a cube on her head. A cube, people. The gap between her funky-retro (and not in a good way) jacket and mildly hideous skirt defied the laws of physics by displaying Katy Perry's back fat. And Katy Perry doesn't have back fat! I can deal with the quirky outfit and even swallow my distaste for the cube (?!?), but I REFUSE to overlook such chunky heels. You had how many outfits changes throughout the night and THIS is how you chose to end it? I can only imagine Katy Perry at home and in a very cheesy typical rom-com montage set to her own soundtrack trying on outfit after endless outfit for a bored Russell Brand when she emerges from the closet in this gem of an ensemble and earnestly asks her husband "How do I look?" To which he responds in a cheery British accent "Lovely, mate, as were the first 130. Now can we order some Chinese?" Because he's a GUY and doesn't CARE and is HUNGRY and now you have a CUBE on YOUR HEAD and those clunky, dare I call them heels(?) clodding on stage while you accept a well-deserved award on a live, national broadcast.

So there's my take. Believe it or not, I have more to say, but some of us are real people living in the real world who have work in the morning and need to get our beauty sleep because we don't have a team of overpaid stylists to dress us up in the most ridiculous outfits just so bloggers can unwittingly continue to promote us and extend our 15 minutes of fame. Which is why I must go to bed now instead of stay up for another 4 hours just to say everything I want to say about Nicki Minaj. Thankfully, a picture is worth a thousand words so I leave you with this:

Deadline by Chris Crutcher

OhMiGod I just read the most amazingly insightful book! And that’s saying a LOT since I’ve devoured the likes of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment and Dante’s Inferno (the most uplifting of Alighieri’s Divine Comedy if we’re being sarcastic).

So Borders aka-the greatest bookstore excluding online mega-reatiler Amazon.com only because I can physically touch the inventory- is closing. Like, for good. Naturally, I grazed their dwindling stock several times this past week. About $200 and 40 books later, I have enough reading to last me through the month. You think I jest, but I made my way through 4 books in 5 days and one of those days ways Sunday in which I was busy with a nasty little stomach bug (thanks a lot Daniel) that left me mildly dizzy and wholly cranky. I ventured away from my normal YA fantasy selections because at 40% off, why not try something new? In addition to some great business books, I picked up Chris Crutcher’s Deadline.

This book is a life changer. Eighteen year old Ben Wolf just found out he has less than one year to live. He decides to live his senior year to its fullest, but as normal as possible, which means keeping the truth of his illness to himself. But life is never that easy. Although some of the situations are fantastical and sensationalized, it’s more a reminder of the situations we face in life. Irony abounds and Ben learns the truth about people in his small town while hiding his own truths.

Above all, Deadline is MORBIDLY HYSTERICAL. I laughed until it was time to cry. Notably, Ben is a smart-ass and his impending fate only gives him strength to unleash all his thoughts with no consequences. I mean, if you didn’t have to worry about a diploma and life after graduation, wouldn’t you be tempted to torment your teachers? Although his motives aren’t entirely pure, Ben is fueled by the need to educate himself with as much truth as possible, despite his big lie. It’s inherently sad and hugely thought-provoking material.

The best dialogue, by far, that make me rate this book as TOP-NOTCH are the many interactions Ben has with Hey-Soos. The philosophical Hey-Soos (who will neither confirm nor deny if he’s Jesus or just a representation of Ben’s inner conscience, though we have our suspicions) visits Ben in his dreams and grants pearls of wisdom in a comical self-evaluating way. Hey-Soos offers heavy guidance in a perfect blend of spiritual reverence and religious mockery. For example, an excerpt of a particularly poignant conversation between Hey-Soos and Ben::

“So,” (Hey-Soos) says, “you rang?”
“Did I?”
“You meant to.”
“You mean because of what Dallas said?”
“Duh”
“‘Duh?’ That’s not exactly otherworldly.”
“‘Duh’ is universal. do you know how many people she’s told?”
I say I don’t.
“Well,” he says, “as she might put it, if she tells on more that will be two.”
“No shit?”
“Are you sure that’s the way you want to talk to the likes of me?”
“No kidding?”
“No shit,” Hey-Soos says.

Bottom line is I finished this book in less than a day but the emotions incited will last a lifetime. However long that will be.

It's Not A Run On Sentence If It's Poetry

Swirling, twirling butterflies in my stomach pitted against all the anger and confusion
Smothering what I feel
In a million tingling sensations pulling me in on myself
Until I'm inside out and upside down hanging by my Achilles Heel
Wondering
When will this slow burning torture be over
And the world will right itself,
But the wind never stops when you want it to,
just brings on the rain and fire bolts
Searing flashes of energy shining light on the depths or darkness
You hoped would remain covered up by the sheets over your head
Hiding from the monsters under your bed
Like a good little girl never wandering far from home or happiness but
You don't experience happiness like others
Only balls of sadness and fluff fill your life in place of true emotion
An empty soul and empty eyes
Leave a blank face
With plastic smiles
All teeth no bite
Wondering
Wonder
When will I stop missing you?

Meridian by Amber Kizer

I first read Meridian more than a year ago and was so enamored by the romance between Fenestra and Protector, the unique story of escorting souls to the afterlife, and the epic GvB battle I overlooked the under-whelmingly bland writing. Now that the much anticipated (to me) sophomore follow-up, Wildcat Fireflies is out, I decided to re-read the first book to bring myself up to speed on the story again. Big mistake. During my double-take, my reading pace slowed to enjoy the story as I already knew the ending. It was all the faint details in between I wanted to savor before devouring the next novel. Unfortunately, Meridian was less appetizing as seconds. (Like all my food metaphors? Thought it added a special touch)

Meridian Sozu is suddenly abandoned by her family on her sixteenth birthday with cryptic instructions to find an Aunt she’s never met a few states away. Oh, and someone may be after her. She arrives at Auntie’s hard-to-picture (becuase the descriptions are seriously lacking) Colorado cottage-mansion (and contradictory) where the mystery is unraveled at a confusing, slow, and predictable pace. The gist? Meridian is a Fenestra, an Angel-ish being with a generationally spares gift to grant souls passage to the Other Side. There’s a lot of interesting mumbo-jumbo about energy in a spiritual context that adds a rational layer to a fantastical story. Of course, if there’s an angel for the Light side, there must be a balanced minion for the Dark side. Enter the not-so-subtle Reverend Perimo. We get it, Miss Kizer, he’s the Bad Guy. don’t think you are fooling anyone. Okay, I know I read this before, but I am basing this off the inane naivity of Auntie, Meridian and Tens not to figure out his true identity in lieu of some goold, old-fashioned foreshadowing. And don’t even get me startedon the fact that even Tens refers to Meridian’s aunt as Auntie as if that’s her name. I don’t even like Auntie as a nickname. It sounds fake and pretentious. You should have stuck with “Merry” as the old namesake and Meridian as she is.

Let’s ignore the fact that the story is muddled because it is a well-enough developed concept to pass for entertainment. I can barely overlook the flat characters. Meridian arrives and Tens is vaguely rude to her. From his actions and dialogue I, the reader, didn’t grasp that he was rude, but Meridian’s inner dialogue announced it loud and clear how she interpreted their interactions, so it must be true. Then she discovers he’s her Protector (I’d say Spoiler Alert, but there isn’t much these little surprises are thinly veiled in the story, I don’t think I’m really spoiling much) and before you know it they are spouting the “L” word in typical teen fashion without so much as a first kiss. Bwah-huh?

Despite the leap in relationships, the characters are decently developed. But the writing itself is bland, Bland, BLAND. Aside from the ongoing “Fenestras are the gateways and must guide souls through the open windows” (or something like that) metaphor, Kizer fails to use imagery, metaphors, hyperboles, and any other writing flourishment I got docked on my AP History papers for using as “fluff and fillers” but my AP English teacher vividly encouraged. The dialogue is just that-lacking any fluidity or punctuated by character movement.

Overall, Meridian provided a quick respite from the rigors of everyday life when read quickly enough it blurs past all its inherent flaws. As a re-read, there is nothing more to glean from the story to hold my interest and I found myself nitpicking until the whole concept, characters and all, fell apart. There’s still Wildcat Fireflies to get through and I’m hoping it’s more developed.