Little White Chapel

I've always wanted to get married in a drunken, quickie Vegas wedding chapel. Maybe to some sweet but dumb Chippendale's dancer. Since marriage apparently doesn't mean much to celebrities and half of the nation's marriages fail, why not? It's not like some sacred institution anymore. Even though God knows we can't let those deranged homosexuals practice it. I'm not big on the drinking or the partying or the blacking out, but for once in my life I think it would be fun to wake up in a suite at Caesar's Palace next to a total stranger (a guy from Thunder from Down Under would be fine too), and discover a pair of matching wedding bands slowly turning our fingers green. Granted a quickie annulment would be on the agenda shortly after piecing together our fragmented memories from clues and eyewitness statements from a guy dressed as Dolly Parton and a Korean Elvis impersonator. But wouldn't it be something if that six-pack sporting stranger wearing only a bow tie and cufflinks turned out to be my soulmate? Hey, it could happen.

This is not the only strange and seemingly undesirable item on my Bucket List. I would also like to get in a bar fight (either start one, finish one, or be the cause of one), get shot (of course non-lethally or serious damage-y, maybe in the lovehandle. I heard it saved a woman's life, getting shot in her lovehandle), get arrested for something also non-threatening (like maybe getting in a bar fight, or picking a California state protected golden poppy), steal something not valuable (and maybe get arrested for it, though come to think of it, I was accessory to the theft of a star from the Christmas tree outside the town hall in Sydney, Australia, so maybe I can cross that one off the list), nearly drown but get saved at the last minute by some ridiculously good-looking lifeguard (again, with no lasting damage), meet the Pope, and watch at least the entire first season of Doogie Howser, M.D. (the whole series if I take a shine to it). I know my concessions and qualifications to this list water down the badass factor, but I'd rather not die, be maimed, get shived, rot in jail, have my soul saved, or commit to the entire series of Doogie if it for some reason turns out to suck.

Anyway, I can't wait until I can finally go to Vegas and meet my speedo-clad soulmate. I haven't been since I was fifteen, attending a legitimate wedding that wasn't my own, and couldn't even go to the bachelorette party because I was too young. Now I'm fully legal and can paint the town my own special shade of magenta.

Facebook Chat

Facebook chat is the most marvelous invention. People I wouldn't normally talk to are just a click away. It's weird though, seeing a list comprised of people I knew from elementary school in Sacramento, working at Blockbuster in college, studying abroad in France, the plane ride from Sydney to Los Angeles. It's like all these people with nothing in common whatsoever except for me. I don't talk to most of them on a regular basis, but it's nice knowing what they're up to. It's like I'm reconnecting with the person I used to be when I knew them. I'm proud when the girl I was in a play with once gets an audition for some big regional show. I'm happy for my former co-worker who I always liked but never got to know when she goes off on a month-long trip to Brazil. I even like knowing that the guy I couldn't stand in middle school returned safely from Iraq. I know this is horribly sappy and trite, but it's nice knowing that we're all still connected long after our paths have crossed and will probably never cross again. A lot of people think that these relationships are superficial. If we weren't close enough to make the effort to meet for coffee or chat on the phone, maybe this person should be left behind with our memories and former selves. But just because I only leave a message with someone once a year on their birthday (thanks to a Facebook reminder), it doesn't mean I've stopped caring about them. We may meet up someday in the future and we'll still have some semblance of a relationship thanks to this marvelous little website.

And now Facebook should pay me for such a nice review and free advertising.

My Neighbors

I love my neighbors so much. Well, I love overhearing bits and pieces of their conversations as they walk by my window. There's Motown guy, who's always singing Temptations songs as he strolls down the sidewalk. Pretty decent voice actually. There's Loogie Man, who hocks the world's most impressively loud loogies at all hours of the day. He must have a condition or something. The Guy who lovingly washes his car every single day and listens to Mexican polka with the volume set to 11. The creepy security guard at Barato Dollar Family who basically just watches you shop for a living. The super nice lady whose name I forgot but who said I had a "cheery" face. The girl who talks in a chicken-like squawk and repeats everything she says thrice. At least six households have some kind of large jungle cat depiction or statue on or around their house. Like the lion mural on the garage door, a giant stuffed cheetah sitting in a tree that always terrifies me, tiger statues adorning the fences. It's a weird place, this Jefferson Park.

I catch the most random soundbites living in this apartment. One time I heard a man yell at his crying toddler to "Shut the fuck up!" That was upsetting. But just now I heard a middle age woman walking by saying, "Did you ever see the movie Forrest Gump? You know that part where Lieutenant Dan jumps into the water? That's how I feel right now." I have no idea what she was talking about, but it just made my day. I thought I would share. I think one day I'll just sit by my window and listen to the wacky things people while they cross in front of my perch. I realize this may seem creepy and stalkerish not unlike the Barato security guard, but I can't let these verbal gems go undocumented!

In Praise of the Midwest Teen Sex Show

No, it's not porn. The Midwest Teen Sex Show was first introduced to me in my Sociology of Sexuality (aptly nicknamed Soc 69) class a few years ago. It's a series of short videos containing several skits based on topics like "Condoms," "Vaginas," and "Hook Ups." For once a teen-oriented program actually manages to avoid the awkwardness of traditional sex eduction with its textbook definitions, anatomically correct yet vague diagrams, and the uncomfortable throat-clearing coughs of teachers ill-equipped to relate to youth on any subject, much less sex. MTSS is genuinely funny, captivating the short attention spans of the youtube generation and discussing issues that whether adults want to admit it or not, teenagers will face eventually. It's a show that embraces sex positivity, not making you ashamed of your body or what you might be interested in sexually. It celebrates sex as a good thing, not to be taken too seriously. What it does take seriously is your physical and emotional health, always emphasizing the importance of birth control, STD prevention, and ensuring that you're ready to take that step on your own, without feeling pressure or guilt from someone else.

In a society that seems to be torn between the super conservative 'any and all sex not specifically intended for reproduction is morally wrong and dirty' (I'm looking at you Jonas Brothers), and the super liberal 'have tons of crazy reckless monkey sex and deal with any subsequent babies and/or diseases as they arise' (16 and Pregnant ladies), the Midwest Teen Sex Show actually recognizes that many teenagers will have sex and need to be informed and understand not only the consequences but the joys. On top of the sociological aspect of the show, it's freaking hysterical, so you should watch it even if you're not a teenager and are already well aware of how to navigate your sexuality. So congratulations Midwest Teen Sex Show, we here at Sporadic Sporkitudes (we meaning me...) salute you!

http://midwestteensexshow.com/category/episodes/

1994

1994 is a mysterious and wonderful period of time to me. I was alive, but not really aware of the wonders that surrounded me. By wonders I mean the gratuitous presence of flannel, stubble, and jeans with ripped kneeholes, (the Seattle grunge does for me what tuxedos do for most other women). I also mean one of my favorite eras of music, Smashing Pumpkins, early Green Day, Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, etc. It was a great year for movies, spawning such gems as Forrest Gump, the Little Rascals and SPEED.

But the greatest product of 1994 has to be the under-appreciated cult classic tv drama, My So-Called Life. I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur of teenage-oriented tv shows, imbibing the good (The OC, Freaks and Geeks), the bad (the new 90210, Gossip Girl), and the ugly (the old 90210 and Felicity post hair-cut). But in all of my days of gluttonous tv watching, My So-Called Life is the only show that has ever approximated what it really means to be a teenager who isn't perfect looking, doesn't live in Southern California or Manhattan, and whose parents actually give a damn about them.

The characters feel real and natural, like people you might have known in high school. It's impossible to not relate to Angela Chase, who blows everything way out of proportion exactly like we all did at that age (and still do sometimes). Everyone has a Jordan Catalano they swooned after and probably never got to make out with in the boiler room. And Rayanne and Rickie, with all their flaws stand in for your own unique, lovable best friends. The dialogue is smart, but not unrealistic. The plotlines are complex but not convoluted. The show doesn't shy away from real issues like alcoholism, homosexuality, and homelessness, and yet still manages to avoid the 'very special episode' that most other shows of its time preached.

My So-Called Life is a truly amazing show that always seems to capture whatever shade of angst I'm currently feeling and help dissolve it by living vicariously through the lives of the students of Liberty High. Perhaps the best thing about the show is the fact that it was cancelled before it had a chance to deteriorate. Many of the best shows are misunderstood by their parent studios and large-scale audiences. But for me, My So-Called Life allows a glimpse into the recent past of 1994. A time I was too young to really remember, and history has yet to recognize. I'm curious to see what new shows will act as cultural artifacts of this time period until hindsight tells us how to characterize the year 2010. I seriously hope it's not Rock of Love or American Idol.

US vs Canada Hockey

I'm not a huge fan of the Olympics, Summer or Winter, and I don't even really have a working television so I haven't been able to watch any of the events even if I so desired. But I am totally stoked about the fact that the US just beat Canada in men's hockey! I discovered hockey almost exactly one year ago today (because naturally it did not exist outside of the Mighty Ducks trilogy before I graced it with my attention). One of my favorite film professors took a friend of mine and me to a game at the Ponda in Anaheim to see the real Mighty Ducks (for they will always be mighty to me) play some crappy team from Texas who happened to win that night. It was the most epic experience of my life. I am obsessed with Canada and would totally become an ex-pat in Vancouver if the weather didn't suck so bad. So sharing in their national pastime was inevitable for me. Big, burly, be-stubbled yet surprisingly graceful men with big sticks beating the crap out of each other for a living? SCORE!!!!! (if you'll pardon the pun. Though you shouldn't. Because I totally did it on purpose) Anyway, I am now a huge hockey fan and watch it whenever I can. Which is rarely.

Tonight presented a huge challenge for me. I am a patriot when it comes to the idea of the Olympics, but my heart belongs to Canada. However, reading the yahoo headlines that we had not only scored an early goal but beat those bloody Canucks for the first time in 50 years, completely warmed my icy American heart! So just for tonight I will say SUCK IT CANADA!!!! as I hum the Star Spangled Banner completely unironically. Tomorrow I will wake up and resume my apathy towards most every other sport as well as my O Canada ringtone.

What you may expect here in the land of plastic multi-purpose utensils:

As you probably know, my name is Hutch and this is my first attempt at a real blog. I flirted with the blogging function on my rapidly decaying myspace page, but that was more the ramblings of a sad, pathetic college girl desperately avoiding homework at any and all costs. In this new and improved blog, you may expect the ramblings of a sad, pathetic, post-grad girl desperately avoiding...everything at any and all costs. I may even invent things for myself to avoid since it gives me such a thrill. I'm open to suggestions.

So I tried to come up with a cohesive, over-arching theme for this blog. But I seem to lack a cohesive, over-arching theme in my life, so I decided to embrace the chaos erupting in my mind and just go with a standard stream of consciousness.

The primary inspiration for Sporadic Sporkitudes is the Entertainment Weekly columns of one of my all-time heroes, Diablo Cody (cheeky stripper turned oscar-winning screenwriter of "Juno" and "United States of Tara.") She seems to write about whatever strikes her fancy, be it bad reality television, Jewish deli soup, or silver twinkie Airstream trailers. And good times are had by all. In an effort to follow in her footsteps (along with Tina Fey, Mindy Kaling, Judd Apatow, and John Hughes among other heroes), I am attempting to work on my writing skills as they are sadly deteriorating. Trying to boil down witticisms, observations, quotes by more intelligent and pithy writers into 140 characters or less has really affected my ability to complete whole paragraphs of thought.

Regarding what you may expect here in Spork-land, probably a whole lot of nothing. Posts may be few and far between or several completely unconnected posts in a single day. They will most likely postulate on one or more of the following subjects: movies, tv, books, music, food, attractive menfolk, pop culture, random bouts of nostalgia, observations of my wacky South Central surroundings, and rants about arbitrary pet peeves or how lame my life happens to be at the moment. I may occasionally veer into the world of politics (though I try to keep an open mind and see both sides of a topic), religion (Jesus Freaks be warned), education and other more heavy topics. But I will probably end up writing mostly about the simultaneous joy and despair of Raumen noodle soup.

So that wraps up my inaugural blog of Sporadic Sporkitudes! We'll see if this experiment works.