This new ad for the CX-5 (that’s the best name they could come up with?) declares, “When Thomas Edison threw the switch, it changed everything. SKYACTIV® TECHNOLOGY makes the Mazda CX-5 more fuel-efficient than any hybrid SUV.”
I believe this is called REACHING. Comparing Edison’s contributions to the world with Mazda’s ability to create an SUV that gets a WHOPPING (whoa–slow down, mister) 35 MPG? That is a mind-blower! What does a Prius get again? Oh, 51, that’s right. Can’t you make an SUV that gets close to that?
According to http://www.tomedison.org, among his over a thousand patents, Edison invented:
- the electrical vote recorder
- the automatic telegraph system
- paraffin paper
- the electric pen used for the first mimeographs
- the carbon telephone transmitter, making telephony commercially practical, including the microphone used in radio
- the phonograph
- the incandescent light
In addition he discovered “Etheric Force,” an electric phenomenon that is the foundation of wireless telegraphy, as well as the “Edison Effect,” the fundamental principle of electronics.
After that, he invented the motion picture camera, the fluorescent electric lamp, the nickel-iron-alkaline storage battery, and the electric safety miner’s lamp. So, yeah, he and Mazda are in the same league, in the way that Schwarzenegger and DeVito are twins.
So Edison invented the light bulb, which you’re probably using right now. Big deal. Mazda invented the GLC (yes, it really stands for Great Little Car).
Top THAT, Edison!
Every morning, I look in the mirror, and I see that little frown line that won’t go away, no matter how many hundreds of moisturizer bottles and creams and serums that I’ve used for twenty years. They all promise reduction in wrinkles and improved skin appearance, and definite results within 8 weeks, but I’m here to tell you that not a one of them has ever worked. Ever. This is not an invitation for you to comment about how great your skin care regimen is, because I won’t believe you.
With my long blonde hair now, I look like a surfer Gordon Ramsay, or perhaps Gordon if he was ever a hippie/stoner/metalhead. He actually had a professional come in and tweak his face, but seriously, he still looks old and wrinkly. But he’s got a great head of hair and an expression like a chunky nine-month old Aryan baby, so that works for him.
Honestly, I look better than his “after” picture, but that doesn’t prevent me from wanting to get a sander and just smooth out those creases in the manner that I wield an iron against pleated chinos. I mean, if Sharron Stone can do it, why can’t I? Oh, yeah, she’s a millionaire. And she still has smile lines that look like they could snap like a dried rubber band at any second.
Still, she looks better than most of post-surgery Hollywood. Every time I consider Botox, I remind myself of Meg Ryan and Melanie Griffith and the “chin ladies,” Suzanne Somers and Priscilla Presley, who seem to have injected gravel into their chins, quite the opposite of smoothing:
We want our celebrities to be the beautiful people, eye candy, the standard-setters of beauty. We need something to aspire to, right? I have to admit that last month when I watched The Way Way Back (to see Steve Carell because all the world loves a Steve Carell), I was a bit offput by Toni Collette’s ability to move her facial muscles all across her face. My first thought was, “Why is she letting herself be in a movie for all the free world to see–with a forehead as crinkly as all get-out?” But then I decided that it matched the character of the everywoman, so it made sense, and why shouldn’t she be allowed to just look like an average human being, warts and all? Perhaps she has already had something done, but at least she doesn’t look like a Halloween mask. I’d rather watch her moving parts on the big screen than hear the chin ladies deny rumors of plastic surgery.
As for myself, I think it’s time to trade in my Oil of Olay for something more results-oriented:
Look closely (double-click) and you can see the fizzy carbonation shooting up into the air!
I really don’t understand how people can cut out soda in their diet. Soda makes me so happy. Despite the empty calories, the caffeine, and the high fructose corn syrup, I still delight in those tiny bubbles. And, no, mineral water/club soda is not the same. At all.
Why does hazelnut creamer taste sooooo good in my coffee, but hazelnuts taste worse than rancid calf fries?
At that moment when I pull back the foil freshness barrier on my new can of mixed nuts, a world of opportunity explodes. Like Guy Fieri says (excessively), “Everyone is in the pool.” And it’s all good; we’re all friends here. Except you, hazelnuts. Nobody invited you. We don’t want you living in our neighborhood, much less swimming in our pool. Go home. Go back to your fibrous husk and don’t come back.
Hazelnuts are otherwise known as filberts (which seems better suited as a name for a male born in the 1930s), but did you know they are also called cobnuts? Verily, I say this unto you. Can you feel your mouth salivating?
It is rather joyous to say “Kentish Cobnuts” aloud, however. Go ahead. Kentish Cobnuts. Kentish Cobnuts. Why isn’t there a band called The Cobnuts? It makes much more sense than The Lovin’ Spoonful. Moving on…
It is a universal truth that the filbert is the base of the nut totem pole, the bottom in the hierarchy, the least desirable. It’s the Mike Nesmith of The Monkees, the Whoopi Goldberg of The View. And why is it that I can pony up extra money to weed the commoner’s peanuts out of the can entirely, but those dang hazelnuts are still clear and present?
What gives? This is the land of the free! Do the rest of you really enjoy hazelnuts? Are you busy spreading Nutella all over your nine grain toast each morning? You know cashews are superior. And pecans. And almonds. And Brazil nuts. Heck, even peanuts are superior to those wretched hazelnuts. I would pay good money for someone to invent something akin to a metal detector, but much smaller and possessing the power to pull filberts to the top of the can, so I can grab them and fling them out into the back yard for my aging dogs to digest. I’m pretty sure any animal that eats lizard tails as an appetizer preceding a meal of its own poop wouldn’t mind a filbert. Then again–it’s a FILBERT. Ick.
The only thing worse is biting into a nut of higher caliber, and then realizing it’s rotten. Planters be damned!! And you never get the head’s up on that; it’s always a crapshoot. By the time you notice, you’ve already chewed it to a paste, and you can’t really spit it out, so you just swallow it down, hoping to quickly toss a fresh nut down your gullet to cover the taste of the foul one.
I admit I do eat them, but only because I’m all kinds of cheap and can’t fathom paying for something that may get wasted. But sometimes I leave several in the can before tossing it out. It makes a nice rattling sound as it hits the side of the garbage bin.
So I’m watching–yes–another episode of the FINAL (gasp!) season of What Not To Wear, while wearing a crazy cute floral skirt and blouse myself, feeling confident and yet saddened by the former Jennifer Keaton of Family Ties fame, played by Miss Tina Yothers. First off, I can easily get past her substantial weight gain; we all get old and puffy (even Renee Zellweger at times). But I cannot get past her black Goth hair. Right now, she is telling Ted, the stylist, “Once you go black…” But, in this case, that is untrue. I had black hair when I was 17 years old, but I’m not 17 anymore. You CAN go back. I realize this is a free country, and I realize this is also a rerun, so I should have gotten over it by now, but I simply cannot. There is freedom, and then there is sanity. Freedom of fashion choice does not exclude one from the NEED to dress age-appropriately. Or wear age-appropriate hair. You might look pretty cute in pigtails or a Crissy Snow side-pony, but you wouldn’t go in public like that over the age of 12.
There are only four reasons to have black hair if you are a porcelain-skinned white girl like Miss Tina:
1) You were born with it.
2) You are Katy Perry (herself a natural blonde who will probably grow it back out once she matures).
3) You are Veronica from Archie comics.
4) You are Snow White.
Now back to Tina. For one thing, she says she hasn’t tried clothes on in a dressing room in “like five or six years.” WTH? Do you know many how styles have come and gone in six years? You think six years isn’t much? Think about your cell phone six years ago. Think about your laptop and your old beige monitor. Having kids is not an excuse for giving up. Don’t be that woman in pajamas at Wal-Mart. You are better than that. It’s not about being trendy or even about vanity; it’s about being the best version of yourself.
Tina, like another guest named Teresa (“T”) whom they tackled on Season 8, has a fear of wearing dresses. I DO NOT GET THIS!! Admittedly, T had some serious issues she needed to work through, regarding mandatory Catholic school uniforms or something like that, so now T is rebelling (too old to rebel) against society and now nobody tells T to put a dress on. In fact, T often gets mistaken for a male. She wears men’s clothing, wifebeaters, and Crocs. I wonder if she goes by “T” because the name “Teresa” is not masculine enough? All I know is T has a winning smile and lots of potential. Rejoice in what you are: a woman. And cute, too boot! You don’t have to prance around like Shania Twain, declaring, “Man, I feel like a woman!” But sweet Mary and Joseph, I think feminists go so far trying to be the Anti-Barbie that they might as well grow their armpit hair out and wear a cup. You can sit in the middle of the see saw, sweetie. You don’t have to soar to the end of the spectrum. T even admitted at the end of the show, “This process has shown me you can be powerful and still be soft.” What what?
And, yes, I understand that Jane Lynch and Ellen Degeneres are never going to be out buying A-line skirts and flouncy dresses, but why is this a hurdle for straight women? If you enjoy your femininity, why do you abhor dresses? Do you feel objectified or sexualized? Dresses are actually pretty freeing, and your thighs stay well-ventilated. Shallow or not, most women want to feel attractive. They want to have a good hair day more than they would EVER want world peace, and they want their lashes to look full and not to have raccoon circles under their eyes. You can talk a good game upside down about how you want equal pay for equal work, but you know a good support bra and panties that don’t ride up rank right up there, too. Keep this mantra in mind: It’s nearing the end of the show, and Tina is wearing a coral dress and a black blazer. She just said, “I feel like a woman…It’s beautiful, and I love it!” Yes! Victory! One week under the tutelage of Clint and Stacey, and her broken brain got unbroken. They fixed it, reprogrammed it to the default setting, which is XX chromosomes=embrace your womanhood. Look, it’s 2013. We’re not cattle rustlers in the Old West, forced to wear long, hot skirts in the heat and dust. You shouldn’t have to ride sidesaddle in a skirt. I get that. You should have the right to throw some trousers and chaps on.
But guess what? We can vote now, so go ahead and wear your clamdiggers and your slimming jeans and even your yoga pants with the holes in the crotch. But don’t walk into a clothing store, having already written off half the inventory. Rock a dress or skirt every now and again. There is a balance between Amish and skank. Find it. And BTW, it’s soooo much quicker to pee if you’re in a dress. Just lift and go.
Now Tina is looking in the mirror, giddy, saying, “I can’t believe I’m wearing a scarf.” There you go–she not only conquered the dress obstacle, but cruised right on into accessorizing. And that black hair might just be growing on me… Either way, It’s a new and improved Tina. You go, girl.