tangent fifteen: voter registration.

Hi. 

I just added something new to my blog. A weekly question that you can cast your vote about. Pumped? I knew you would be. The questions will not be hard. Unless you are an imbecile. Alright. Go knock yourself out on the bottom of the sidebar.

Peace. Love. Yes you can.

tangent fourteen: my Oscar nominees.

Evening.

I'm going to make this as short as possible so I can get back to watching Degrassi, my newest obsession and time-sucker. Seeing as that I only saw Slumdog Millionaire, I don't have too much to say about any of the other nominees. Slumdog was an amazing piece of cinematic awesomeness, so I'm glad it won 694 awards. Well-deserved, in my opinion. I did make a mental list of my favorite moments tonight, and I would like to share them with you. In addition to my favorites, I also made a separate mental list of my least favorite moments. If you don't mind, I'm going to share those with you, as well. If you do mind, then I hate you. No, no. I'm being facetious. Although I might hate you anyway, for other reasons. Probably not though because I don't really hate anyone. "Hate" is, like many teachers and wise sages over the years have told me, a very strong word. So while you might annoy me a lot, I can almost guarantee that I don't hate you. There's always an exception to the rule though. And I hate to admit it, but I use "hate" a lot more than I should. Like just now, for instance. I don't really hate to admit it. But to say, "I strongly dislike to admit it" sounds ridiculous. "Hate" may be strong, but it is, in fact, easier. Okay. Enough of that. Now, for the drum roll...brrrrrrrr. (That is not supposed to look like the sound of shivering.) Here are the nominees of my favorite and least favorite Oscar moments:

Moments That Made My Heart Flutter:

1. Danny Boyle jumping up and down like Tigger on purpose.
   
2. Zac Efron looking old enough for me to legally date instead of molest...finally.
   
3. Robert Pattinson acting like a vampire even though he wasn't supposed to.
   
4. Mickey Rourke's nomination.
   
5. Halle Berry's dress.
   
6. Kate Winslet's acceptance speech.
   
7. Heath Ledger's family's acceptance speech.
8. Memorial dedication video. (Gets me every single time.)
9. The big musical shindig. (With a cameo from Zac Efron.)
   
10. Ben Stiller's riveting portrayal of Joaquin Phoenix.
    

Moments That Made My Heart Sputter: 

1. Barbara's pre-Oscars buzz kill.
   
2. Zac Efron's trollop of a date.
   
3. Christopher Walken's creepiness multiplied due to his long hair.
   
4. Mickey Rourke's face.
   
5. Reese Witherspoon copying Queen Latifah's dress. Or vice versa. (Tsk, tsk, ladies.)
   
6. Jessica Biel sans her only redeeming quality, Timberlake.
   
7. Sophia Loren's aging progress.
   
8. Not being able to see the memorial dedication video. (I'm sorry, Academy. Not all of us have 900-inch flat-screens.)
   
9. Beyonce's sparkling red loin cloth.
   
10. Joaquin Phoenix's absence (from both the awards and the acting world).
    

I should mention that my short-term memory is somewhat of a faulty trait, and had I written my thoughts down while watching the Oscars, my wit would have been sharper and my writing much funnier. Oh well. I distracted you for a little while, right? Okay. Back to work, slacker. 

Peace. Love. Why was Miley invited?

tangent thirteen: bite me.

Guess who's back? 

After an extra long vacay I'm back and ready to roll. I know I promised to write a lot during my break; however, I opted not to and did other things instead. I slept, watched a lot of unnecessary television, went to my 5 year high school reunion (AKA "shit show 2k8"), and went on a cruise with my family (and brought in the new year with a smooch on the cheek from my mother). Jealous? I'm sure. My first quarter at The Circus went really well, and it's good to know that I'm heading in the right direction in terms of what I want to do with the rest of my life. At least for now. You could probably care less about that so I'll ease into my newest tangent before you start bitching. While I did waste a lot of my time watching mindless TV shows and galavanting around Atlanta will my fellow high school chums during the break, I also divvied up some of my time to a fictional male specimen known to some as Edward Cullen. I, however, prefer to refer to him as "perfection". Edward Cullen is one of the characters in the Twilight book series by Stephenie Meyer. Now, if you are an observant and nitpicky person then you are A) obnoxious but B) also probably remembering something I wrote in tangent ten. I merely stated that I didn't understand the hype concerning Twilight. I never made fun of those who did. I retract my statement because I understand the hype now. At about 2:30 on Christmas Eve day I was perusing through Target, trying to find last minute Christmas gifts (if you know me, you aren't the least bit surprised) and a shiny paperback book cover caught my eye. There it was. A simple, yet perfect depiction of the forbidden fruit resting in the pale palms of two delicate hands. It was as if Eve herself was offering me a bite...Christmas Eve. Oh, the irony! I tried to hold my ground and walk past the preteen book section in order to make it to the DVD wall faster but something else caught my eye, paralyzing me even longer. The price sticker. Once I saw that, I knew I had been defeated. I took the bait and bought the book. Metaphorically speaking, one might say I took a bite. Eve's good. Whether out of respect for Christmas and my family or trying to salvage whatever morsel of dignity I had left, I  put the book on my bed and left it there until the next day. Once I had thanked Santa for my grey Uggs and make-up, I trudged upstairs to watch A Christmas Story. (I like the 24 hour marathon...it never gets old to me.) Just as I was about to turn on the tele via remote, that faint glittery glimmer caught my eye again. Blast, there was no turning back now. Christmas dinner at Gamma's (my badass grandmother) always starts at 6 pm. It's tradition. I began reading Twilight at 2:45ish. Surely, I thought, I would have enough time to get ready. But Edward Cullen just kept luring me in, page by page, with his cold, chiseled body and his chameleon-like eyes, and I couldn't move from my spot on the bed. 4 o'clock rolls around and I'm still pajama-clad, sans a shower, and falling deeper in love with Edward. This was no school girl Devon Sawa crush. This was real. Besides, Devon is just a mere mortal. I contemplated getting up and doing a rain dance so Atlanta might become more like Forks. I even checked the locks on my windows to see if they were painted shut. They were, and I cursed them because Edward would not be able to come into my bedroom. 5:15. No shower. No movement apart from my fingers flipping the pages. Not even a bathroom break. This was serious. My mom yelled at me from downstairs to make sure I was on my way to getting ready, and she informed me that they were going to ride in a separate car. Not a good idea, Mom. Not a good idea at all. I was suddenly 12 years old again...not because I was ridiculously engrossed in a tween book series about vampires but because I was lying to my mother about my grooming progress. I had made none. Damn that 544-page temptress. I'm not sure what snapped me out of my Edward love daze, but I finally got up and bathed, making my brother and me over 30 minutes late to Christmas dinner. You might be thinking, "Melissa, isn't 30 minutes late like early for you?" Well, hardy har har, you jackass. That's pretty funny. Not. Christmas dinner was fine, except for the gaping and rapidly expanding hole in my heart, otherwise known as my incessant longing for more Edward. I couldn't wait to get back to Meyer's literary ingenuity. Some things prevented that from happening, and I was forced to put down the book for longer than I wanted to. It wasn't until the cruise that I was able to pick it back up again. I silently apologized to Edward for my betrayal and finished Twilight in a flash. I then began to read New Moon, the sequel to Twilight, and I sunk to a new low. After ringing in the new year with my mom's kiss, I left the lido deck party, went to my room, changed into pajamas, and...wait for it...wait for it...read. Welcome to 2009, Melissa. You kind of believe in vampires. You're kind of delusional. What a great start. I even went and saw Twilight the movie 3 hours after returning home from the cruise. It didn't do my imagination justice; however, Robert Pattinson can sink his teeth into my neck any day. I am currently on the 3rd book of the series, but luckily school has somewhat brought me back to reality...not by choice. I'm worried I'll never be able to date again because I've concluded that my type is vampire and seeing as that they don't exist (or do they?) I am doomed to live a life alone vying with 7th graders for nonexistent Edward's love. Of course, I am kidding...I think. I didn't want to reveal any of the books' plots and stories because I urge you to pick it up and begin the journey yourself. I get the hype now. You should too.

Peace. Love. Move over, Devon.

tangent twelve: coming attractions.

For real. Updating soon. Don't get your panties in a wad. I have so much up my sleeve, you don't even know. (Comma splice? Not sure.)

Peace. Love. Wedgies rule.

tangent eleven: where are they now? (the TGIF edition.)

Greetings and salutations.

I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but over the next couple of weeks my tangents are going to be few and far between. It's crunch time at The Circus, which means lack of sleep, lack of a social life, and lack of any extracurricular activity not pertaining to school. Sorry. There's not much I can do about it. I'll be sure to make up for it over my break, once this quarter is over. Okay, enough business. Let's begin today's tangent. TGIF was one of the best things that ever happened to my childhood. I'm sure many of you share this sentiment and can remember a time when a great Friday night didn't involve getting gussied up and bar hopping. Inviting a friend to spend the night, setting up a pallet in the basement, ordering pizza, and flipping to ABC were the only necessary components to make Friday night a sure-fire success back in the day. Ah, nostalgia. I recently watched Stephanie Tanner on Chelsea Lately, and I must say that the once obnoxious lispy smart aleck is actually pretty cool now. She has a real name (Jodie Sweetin), but I like referring to her as Stephanie. I want to personally thank her for inspiring me to write today's tangent. Thanks, Steph. After reading about her addiction to crystal meth a while back, I figured she had spiraled down into has-been oblivion, never to return again. Her interview with Chelsea rerouted my opinion and proved me wrong. She's doing well, she's remarried, and she has a fat daughter named Zoe. Pin a rose on her nose because I'm proud. Watching her led me to wonder what the other TGIF alumni are up to these days. I don't care about every single actor or actress who graced ABC's Friday night lineup during my TGIF era because some of them have stood the test of time and are still somewhat in the limelight. Some, however, did not rise to the fame occasion after their shows got canned. I haven't heard about these people in a while. These are the people I am concerned about. These are the people I researched. And this is what I discovered:

Scott Weinger: 

(Steve Hale--Full House)

While his Full House character appeared to be a bit of a dunce at times, in reality, Scott is quite the smarty pants. In 1998 he graduated magna cum laude from Harvard. Who knew? I always found Steve so endearing because of how stupid he acted. I was very upset when he and DJ chose to go their separate ways. I was pleased about his reappearance on the Full House series finale, probably more so than I was about Michelle finding her memory. Aesthetically, Scott's suffering a bit, but I have complete faith that his old All-American look can be restored with a little Rogaine, some Botox, Mystic Tan, and, most importantly, a letter jacket. 

Bryton McClure: 

(Richie Crawford--Family Matters)

It was uncanny how much Richie Crawford looked like Little Richard. I felt bad for the kid because due to the striking resemblance and similar nomenclature, he was forced to sport a Jheri curl-inspired mullet for 6 years. Clever casting directors. On the other hand, now he's looking pretty slick with his short hair and chin flair. He's also strayed away from primitive sitcom acting and channeled his diverse talents toward his role as Devon Hamilton on The Young & The Restless. Now that I know this, I will make sure to make that show an integral part of my week. I'll keep you updated.

Andrea Barber: 

(Kimmy Gibbler--Full House)

Next to Screech, Kimmy Gibbler was quite possibly the most annoying sidekick ever written into a show. I became so excited whenever she and DJ got in one of their rare fights and vowed never to talk to each other again. Too bad DJ was a nice person and had Danny "the moral police" Tanner for a father. They remained BFF for the duration of the series. I was always on Uncle Jesse's side about Gibbler. I was also on his side because I wanted to bear his children. Still do. As far as what Andrea's up to now...she lives in the UK with her hubby and two kids. Her children's names are Tate James and Felicity Ruth. You might be wondering what I think about her daughter's name. I'm going to be nice and plead the fifth.

Trina McGee: 

(Angela Moore--Boy Meets World)

Angela was such a badass. She embodied boho chic and dated Shawn Hunter, who was also a badass. I loved him up until he decided to sport a goatee in a "glimpse into the future" episode. (Not your best  look, Shawn.) Anyway, Angela was a badass then and by the looks of it, now she's a freaking smokeshow. Other than looking dynamite, she's also married with 3 kids. From hippie to hottie in a such a short time. You go, girl.

Sasha Mitchell: 

(Cody Lambert--Step By Step)

I was in love with Cody (let's be honest, who wasn't I in love with back in the day?) Yes, he was an idiot. Yes, he had a weird incestual thing for his cousin. Yes, his vocabulary was very limited. But still, something about him was very sweet and likable. Sasha Mitchell played the part well; however, from the picture on the right, it appears that Sasha has taken up bartending in the Caribbean. I was disappointed to find out that my conclusion was false. I googled Sasha and while I wasn't able to pinpoint exactly what he's doing today (the general consensus is that he's in Hollywood with his 4 kids and fixes computers for a living), I did discover other nuggets of truth about the former Code-Man that might tickle your fancy. His nickname is Sash. (Question...is it pronounced "sash" or "sosh"?) He likes spicy Chinese food with BIG red peppers (whatever that means). He has a giant tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder (fierce). Maybe not as cool as his unintelligent character. But at least he's got something going for him in real life. 

Shawn Harrison: 

(Waldo Geraldo Faldo--Family Matters)

Speaking of morons. Remember Waldo? His stupidity was on another level, much lower than the average human being. In reality, I believe he would've qualified for the "special" category but the writers overlooked this detail and wrote lines for Shawn Harrison that oozed denseness. Waldo was a nice guy, and I was really happy when he and Maxine, Laura's BFF, began their love affair. I don't understand why the writers thought it was funny to have both his middle and last names rhyme with his first. It wasn't. Shawn is still acting. His most recent work was on a cartoon called Legion of Superheroes. Shawn provided the voice of Timber Wolf. I wasn't able to find anything else on him, but I'm glad he got rid of the flat-top and grew out a mini 'Fro. It suits him a lot better. On a random ending note, I've always wondered how much it hurt Shawn when that basketball slammed into his head during the Family Matters opening credits. It didn't look very fun.

Blake & Dylan Tuomy-Wilhoit: 

(Nicky & Alex Katsopolis--Full House)

Too bad Dylan and Cole Sprouse have already covered the cute blonde twin category. The Tuomy-Wilhoit twins don't really have too much of a chance to surpass them. It's hard to pronounce their hyphenated last name, and they're not nearly as cute as the Sprouse brothers. I wonder if they were mad at the Olsen twins for sharing DualStar with the Sprouse twins and not them. Despite their poor acting skills (which hinted the boys had been trained by the Olsen twins), they managed to coax "Awws" out of Full House viewers when they played Uncle Jesse's sons. I'm sure much of that had to do with the fact that Uncle Jesse as a father was extremely attractive. After Full House, the twins chose to return to normalcy as quickly as possible. In 2004 they started High School, which means they graduated in May. I'm crossing my fingers for a Full House Christmas special. I also wonder where the Tuomy-Wilhoit twins attend college, if they do. Good luck with everything, boys. If I were you, I'd nix the hairstyles and bring back the bowl cuts. 

Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen: 

(Michelle Tanner--Full House)

J/K.

Jason Marsden: 

(Rich Halke--Step By Step, Jason Marsden--Boy Meets World, Nelson Burkhard--Full House)

I take my comment back about Kimmy Gibbler's obnoxious sidekick status. Any character Jason Marsden played tops anything Gibbler said or did. Talk about typecasting. He was probably most annoying in Step By Step, as JT's BFF. He eventually won over Dana's heart. She was a little weird herself, so I guess they were a good match. On Boy Meets World his character was named "Jason Marsden". Wow, someone in the show's creative department really got lazy. He was essentially the same character in both shows--the sidekick of an idiot. Full House was the only show Jason was able to break out of the box just a little bit. He played Nelson, but Nelson, although extremely wealthy and intelligent, never had a chance to end up with DJ. She just wasn't the superficial type and couldn't be won over with lavish gifts and a live, personalized performance from Frankie Valli. Plus, Nelson tried to go up against Viper. Viper was hotter and badder and made me giddy. To the best of my recollection, DJ chose neither suitor in the end thus opening up the opportunity for Steve's return. Those clever writers. Today Jason's voice is used for various cartoon characters. He's married to a script supervisor named Christy and he's best friends with Will Friedle (Eric from Boy Meets World). His favorite activities include drawing, ice-skating, blading, and swimming. He also collects Disney videos and even named his pets after the characters, Aladdin, Jasmine, and Lady. It's a shame he's taken. He seems like quite a catch.

The Dinosaurs: 

( The Sinclairs--Dinosaurs)

I miss this show. Back in the day I thought they were the Family Matters family dressed up as dinosaurs...and without Steve. I loved this show, and I recently found out that seasons 1 & 2 are out on DVD. It's very tempting. I'm not sure what the dinosaurs are up to these days; however, I do have some theories. Earl Sinclair (Daddy dinosaur) was chased down by Dan Conner for copying his flannel shirt. He was then put in solitary confinement for the plagiarism, forced to watch season 1 of Rosanne on repeat. He remains there today. Fran Sinclair divorced Earl soon after his imprisonment and married Alf for money. They reside in Melmac with their 2 adopted children. Robbie and Charlene Sinclair returned back to the prehistoric era and reunited with their childhood friends. Robbie is married, and Charlene is working on her PhD. They each send a Christmas card each year and seem to be doing well. Ethyl Phillips, the grandmother, is now a fossil and can be seen in the Museum of Natural History. Baby Sinclair, perhaps the most abrasive of the bunch, was actually Elmo in a dinosaur costume. Elmo continues to work successfully on Sesame Street. 

Another fun fact about TGIF: it stood for "Thank God It's Funny" not "Thank God It's Friday". I say ABC brings it back. Okay, I must digress. I hope everyone has a wonderful day. I am about to go work on my sketchbook and watch a free movie OnDemand. 

Peace. Love. Adios Tanneritos. 

tangent ten: the PC guy has a name.

Happy belated Thanksgiving.

Um, yeah. I'm really sorry about this big break of mine. Well, not so much really sorry but sorry enough. Creativity chose to find its way back into my life, and I channeled it towards school work instead of tangenting. "Tangenting" is not a word. The red squiggly line is yelling at me. I'm not changing it. Sometimes that red squiggly line is wrong, but I'm fairly certain that it is correct about "tangenting". I just googled the word, and it appears I'm not the first person to coin the term. I don't need to go into any of that though. I will take a second to tell you that as I was writing my spiel about that nonexistent word, one of those Charmin commercials aired. (I hate them, in case you forgot.) Now my neck is twitching with discomfort. Great. Moving on. Today's tangent is one that I was originally going to write about last Thursday. Clearly that didn't happen. Last Wednesday night I watched John Hodgman speak at Barnes & Noble. Before you get nervous and start googling John Hodgman, let me save you the trouble. John Hodgman is a self-proclaimed minor celebrity who is probably best known to all of you as "the PC guy" in the clever Mac commercials. He's so much more than that though...so much more. I admit that upon venturing to the popular bookstore, I myself ignorantly viewed the opportunity primarily as the chance to see "the PC guy" in person. And perhaps add a few new books to my collection. The 3-for-2 deal is so clutch. So is the clearance aisle. Turns out I had $3 to my name and could not afford to buy anything except mints from the Starbucks cafe strategically located at the front of the store. Actually, after tax I couldn't even afford those. Starbucks has very reasonable prices, in case you didn't know. Who doesn't love paying $20 for a grande-tall-skim-mocha-machi-soy-latte-extra shot of sugar free caramel-espresso? Thank God I hate coffee. I do not thank God for my love of light Frappuccinos. Bloody delicious. Bloody expensive. My lack of financial means also meant I couldn't purchase Hodgman's book. I felt a little guilty for not being able to do this, but not guilty enough to give up my seat to someone who actually bought the book. My friends, Michael and Cameron, bought the book so our group wasn't completely full of moochers and fair-weather Hodgman fans. Plus, those who had books were able to get them signed after the reading. I, of course, did not qualify for this option. Point is, I got to sit. I took notes during the reading because, as I've mentioned before, I'm very cool and figured that I might be able to squeeze out a tangent from Hodgman's appearance. I didn't plan on the tangent showing up over a week late, but I'm not apologizing twice for that. It is what it is. My expectations about this man were greatly exceeded. He impressed me far beyond my wildest imagination. Okay, "wildest imagination" is a bit of a stretch but using "expectations" again would've sounded repetitive and boring. I won't go into a full-blown CliffsNotes summary about Hodgman's spiel, but I will tell you some interesting things about him that surpass his PC persona and, in my opinion, make him just as cool as, if not cooler than, Justin Long (the Mac guy and Drew Barrymore's ex-beau). No discredit to Justin because I do think he's rather cool himself. It's just that Justin didn't impress me last Wednesday. John did. And he did so in the flesh. As he spoke, he was sporting a very nice tuxedo that accentuated the positive points of his physique. I was angry to find out that among various bloggers he's been referred to as "chubby", "round-faced", and "the pudgy PC". I do not agree with any of these descriptions. He is not overweight and while his face does exhibit a certain circular nature, I would never go so far as to call him "round-faced". I thought he looked rather handsome in his chic tux and sleek, dark-rimmed glasses. He informed us that he owns a tuxedo, he does not need to rent anymore. You see, that's one of the many perks of being a minor celebrity. He wasn't always famous. I felt a strong connection to him when he mentioned that, like many of us, he once survived on Ramen noodles. The connection swelled as he spoke about eating uncooked Ramen noodles. Be honest. You've done this too. I always had trouble figuring out what to do with the flavor packet when I ate my Ramen au naturale. It's impossible to evenly sprinkle the chicken dust (or beef dust, depending on your flavor preference) over the noodle brick. The dust is clumpy and ends up falling heavily on one spot. The result is flavor dust overkill, and it is repulsive. Hodgman used to have this problem when he was "one of us" (that's code for poor and not famous). He suggested snorting the packet. It was eye-opening. It never occurred to me to do such a thing, but it makes so much sense. The only snortings I've ever dabbled in were the inhalation of Pixie Sticks in middle school and frequent Nasonex sniffs, due to my seasonal post nasal drip (minus 46 cool points); however, through the grapevine, I've learned that snorting is a rather speedy way to get a substance into the bloodstream. It would be practical to snort the chicken dust first. That way, the poultry flavor can disperse itself evenly throughout the body just as the consumption of the noodle brick begins. I haven't tested out this theory because I still have about $3 to my name, and I'm not about to blow it on a Ramen noodle experiment. That, and I'm a bit scared of the sting my nostrils will most likely acquire as a result of the snorting. I'll try to test it out eventually. Maybe. The Ramen flavor dust suggestion is just one of the reasons I want to be friends with John Hodgman. Another reason I want to be his BFF is because he flies first class and still experiences problems us coach-dwellers tend to have...lack of extra room not being one of them. Have you ever been on a flight and sat next to or near someone (a stranger, preferably) you imagined either A) becoming life-long friends with B) dating, marrying, and growing old with or C) forfeiting all personal morality and joining the mile-high club with? If not, fly more. There have been quite a few times in my life when I thought I'd be able to write an "inspired by a true story" screenplay after the plane landed. Somehow, as I prematurely begin to work out the details of a movie in my head, Freddie Prinze Jr. ends up with the leading male role and Roger Ebert only gives me 2 stars. That's probably because in all actuality, my screenplay inspiration never makes it past a lively 5-minute conversation, followed by my potential friend/soul mate/quickie sticking on an iPod and falling asleep. Better luck next time. Hodgman has also imagined A through C. His story was a more expensive version of my flight fantasy, but I'd like to think that he and I share similar unrealistic conundrums. Concerning option A, Hodgman was once on a flight with Kurt Russell and admitted, "I would like to hug him." He also described Russell as a handsome man, which I respected because I find it irritating when men are not able to heterosexually describe other men as attractive. It is blatantly obvious when a person, male or female, is a smokeshow...get over your issues. Options B and C were imagined about the same person. Hodgman was on a flight with Rachel Hunter (possibly the same flight Kurt Russell was on...I didn't make a note of that detail), who is: a former model, an actress(ish), an ex-wife of Rod Stewart, and most importantly, Stacy's mom. He was very perturbed that he did not get to sit next to Ms. Hunter because that seat was occupied by some guy doing Sudoku, who, as it turned out, wasn't very concerned about the knock-out sitting next to him. I can see why Hodgman had his panties in a wad. I would've too if a male version of Hunter had been just out of my reach. I'm not sure who a male version of Rachel Hunter is...Antonio Sabato, Jr. seems about right. Hunter chose to recline her seat and take a nap. The Sudoku guy just sat there, and Hodgman's frustration began to grow, for it would have been socially acceptable for him to recline his seat and sleep alongside Rachel Hunter, in hopes of feeling her breath on his cheek. Problem was he wasn't in the position to do so...the obnoxious, libidoless Sudoku guy was. Hodgman's still pretty bitter about it. I related and furthered my desire to be BFFs. Like us lowly fliers, he, too, reads Sky Mall against his better judgment because he forgets to bring reading material from time to time. Subject change. John Hodgman doesn't understand the hype concerning Twilight. Neither do I. I'm not knocking the book series-turned-movie phenomenon, but I still don't really get it. Hodgman shares this view and explained, "I'm not making fun of the teenage vampires. Why would I? I want to live." Touche, John. I'm sorry if I'm not doing this man justice in terms of interesting and captivating qualities. He is very interesting...and captivating. I assure you. I've just been out of the blogging mode, and I'm having trouble making this tangent flow. Had I written this last week it would have been funnier and made more sense. Now it lacks fluidity and original humor. Dammit. Hodgman spent much of his time reading from his newest book, More Information Than You Require, and he managed to turn over my giggle box quite a few times. I suggest all of you ask Santa for this book. I haven't read it yet, but I feel confident in urging you to buy it. That's how much I want to be BFFs with John Hodgman. The GTGs stopped by Barnes & Noble and allowed for Hodgman to show off his beatboxing skills. Not too shabby. I've included a video snippet below in an attempt to make up for you not laughing throughout this tangent. Please don't remove me from your favorite links list. I just fell off the wagon a little bit. I'm back on though. Pinky promise.

Peace. Love. I'm a PC (not really though).

tangent nine: break-up etiquette.

Yo.

I hope you remembered that today is Tuneage Tuesday. If not, refer to tangent four about what that means. I was on the phone with my friend, Lindsey, the other night and we got into a discussion about the Taylor Swift/Joe Jonas saga. I've already revealed that I'm a sucker for pop culture, but I also understand that many of you have graduated from this stage. Some of you may have never gotten into this stage in the first place. Props to you. I am a weak person and enjoy delving into the personal lives of celebrities. You might call it a character flaw. I prefer to call it a hobby. Anyway, for those of you who aren't up-to-date on the Swift vs. Jonas feud, allow me to recap what's been going on as of late. Taylor Swift, the young, cute chick who sings country music, and Joe Jonas, the young, hot guy who sings pop/rock music, dated and, like most young and famous couples do, broke up. Aesthetically speaking, they were a pretty cute couple; however, it seems as if Taylor needs some lessons from an older, wiser role-model on how to tactfully deal with a break-up. I've decided to be that person for her and so I've written her the following letter, in an attempt to help her salvage some dignity from the split with Joe and also to help her prevent from making the same mistakes in the future: 

Dear Taylor,

Hey girl. I hope all is well in Nashvegas. It's pretty cold here in Atlanta, but I'm okay with that. Cold weather in the ATL means that Christmas is right around the corner, and I love Christmas. This year I'm asking for grey Uggs, various gift certificates, new make-up, tortoise shell Ray-Ban Wayfarers, and new underwear (I lose underwear a lot...not sure how). What's on your list? Probably something having to do with music. That seems practical. Have you been good this year? I don't mean to put words in your mouth, but I'm not sure it would be honest of you to answer that question with a simple "yes". You see, I've been following your recent break-up with Joe, and I've witnessed how you've been acting. As females, we tend to have bad cases of the "overs": we over-exaggerate, we're overemotional, and we have trouble "getting over"...men, especially. You seem to be having a rare, amplified case of the overs right now, and I feel it's my duty to help you through this hard time but also to serve you up with a big giant dose of tough love. It's necessary that you learn the rules about breaking up. It wasn't very nice of Joe to dump you via 27-second cell phone convo. It wasn't nice at all. In the fifth grade, my boyfriend got his best friend to dump me over the phone. As I was bawling my eyes out, I called my friend to tell her all about it. Turns out she was having a sleep-over that night and failed to invite me. She did manage to put me on speaker phone, allowing the rest of the sleep-over guests to hear my entire sob story. I contemplated switching schools after that. My mom said no. Your phone break-up wasn't nearly as traumatic. It was, however, a chance for you to take the higher road, wish Joe well, and make him look like a jackass. You didn't though, did you? You went on Ellen and made yourself look like a lunatic. I felt sorry for you at first because I know what it's like to have my heart broken. My sympathy started fading when Ellen brought it to my attention that you stalk your ex-boyfriends. Who are you taking your cues from? Glenn Close circa 1987? I could have let it slide if you had done this for one guy; however, Ellen clearly states, "You've told me you drive by their houses a lot." The fact that you're driving by more than one house is a grave concern of mine. You've been making some very promising music over the past 2 years, but I'm bothered that your inspiration was formulated as a result of stalking. After that admission, you then go on to say that you cannot stalk Joe because he has enormous security guards. Maybe all of your ex-boyfriends should invest in some of those. Forget the Ellen appearance for now. Let's move onto the doll fiasco. Taylor, Taylor, Taylor. Never say anything that makes you look like a bigger idiot than your ex. Or rather, never film anything that makes you look like a bigger idiot than your ex. I'm sure you thought you were pretty clever by taking the Joe Jonas doll and forbidding the Taylor Swift doll from talking to him. You even note that the Joe doll has a cell phone, so he can break up with other dolls. That's not funny, and it makes you look bitter. I just wish you had dealt with this whole thing differently from the get-go. But alas, you did not, and now you look like a catty 18-year-old who's still stuck on the hot Jonas brother. What you also might not have realized is that declaring war on Joe will be tricky to maneuver. You and Joe croon to the same generic target market: teenage girls. In their eyes, Joe's talented and hot. You're just talented. So I hate to say it, but, in that respect, he wins. Actually, in terms of break-up etiquette, he wins, as well. To conclude, Taylor, I want express my utmost empathy for your current situation, and while I do understand how hard it is to get over someone you genuinely cared for, there are better ways to deal with it. I used to put up song lyrics as my AIM away messages to convey my pain. Dave Matthews always said it a lot better than I ever could. Maybe you should try that. And instead of physically stalking your exes, try dabbling in a little facebook perusal. It's not quite as creepy, and your exes can't file restraining orders on you for looking at their profiles. I hope this has helped your situation. Don't feel bad about the damage that has already taken place. We've all been there. Everybody plays the fool. Just don't play the fool twice. Write back soon.

Love always,

Melissa

P.S.-Perez just informed me of your new album's debut success. Congratulations. I'm mature enough to admit my mistakes, so I apologize for jumping the gun and siding with Joe about the whole target market prediction. I am sticking to my guns about everything else though. You may have one-upped your not-as-successful ex on the charts, but he still dealt with the split a lot more gracefully. So keep up the good work, continue writing killer songs, but mainly, know when to shut up. (Or perhaps find a publicist who knows when to shut you up.)

Okay, I'm spent. I'm going to bed.

Peace. Love. It's not you, it's me.