“My” Super Sweet Sixteen

Have you ever seen the MTV show, “My Super Sweet Sixteen?” I think new episodes air on Sunday evenings, but as is the case with ALL MTV shows, you can usually catch it as a part of some marathon of the show they are showing on that channel the other 23 and a half hours of the day that the new episode is not on.

If you haven’t seen the show before, I’ll try and break down a typical episode for you here. Every epidode follows EXACTLY the same pattern so the only things that are different are the theme of the party and the color of the imported luxury automobile at the end. Now try and keep up.

A typical uber-wealthy teenager decides she/he HAS to have a sweet sixteenth birthday party to put all other sixteenth birthday parties to shame. First, child and parental unit go dress and accessory shopping, then child and other parental unit go car shopping. Usually the parent tells the child that they shouldn’t get his/her hopes up about the car but we all know that is a lie. Then, the child goes to school and makes a HUGE production of passing out invitations to all her friends and trendy cool kids as the camera makes sure to capture the look of disappointment on the faces of the uninvited and the unwanted.

Then, there is always some last minute drama, typically involving bad hair or a rumor about party crashers or the child being late for his/her own party or if the child’s big dance/performance number is going to go well. And then there is ALWAYS the issue about which big name celebrity is going to be performing at the party (and I always enjoy how some one-hit wonder local rap artist is THE big celebrity that the kids are coveting so much).

The night of the party comes and there is always stress and more drama as the child wonders if the party is going to be a success. As things ALWAYS work out for the kid and the psuedo rock star performs and the party guests go crazy and allow themselves to be taped for an MTV show saying how great the party was and how there will never be a better party anywhere on the planet (or known universe), the viewer knows that there is only one scene remaining in the show. The big car reveal.

The father of the birthday kid will say that there is one more thing to do and invites everyone outside. MTV cues up the dramatic classical music to accompany the slow-mo shot of the party guests feverishly running outside. Once there, the dad reveals to his surprised child that very same mega-expensive, shiny, imported sports car he was warning them earlier not to get their hopes up for. Then there is the obligatory hug and heartfelt thanks for everything moment and then the credits roll on another episode.

So, didja get all that? Good.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy this show. It is very entertaining and I liken it to the television equivalent of rubber-necking; it is something that I cannot take my eyes off. Yes, I’ll admit, I am very judgmental about it and, even though I could never afford to ever in my life be able to host such a party, I am allowed to tell myself that I would never allow a child of mine to be that spoiled and catty and brutal and mean and oblivious to the world outside of their wealthy family.

Because this show has been on for a few years, I cannot say that the kids that are portrayed here are really like the way they appear on tv. They most likely are magnifying their personalities for the sake of being a famous person on tv but I believe there is a lot of truth to the way they are acting. They seem to be extremely spoiled and don’t seem like very good people at all. And the parents are just as oblivious; oblivious to the point that they are just as blindsided by the fame aspect as well.

I can’t tell if MTV is showing this “stuff” on tv as a cautionary tale to young impressionable children not to be like these kids are or is MTV just exploiting the fact that America in 2006 cannot get enough of garbage like this. Sometimes I get the feeling that the network is trying to portray these kids in such a way that it would be downright ludicrous for anyone to try and act like this in real life, but I don’t think the kids that watch this show can really differentiate real from not real; especially the ones with more money than they know what to do with and the privilege to match.

Now, in my perfect little world where I could make people do what I wanted them to do, (for example, I was an executive at MTV and the only way the show would be broadcast was if my wishes were granted; not a likely scenario, but just go with it for the sake of allowing me to make my point, thanks), I would force every kid that appeared on a particular episode to gather together and watch the premiere of the show in the same place. The best part about this idea is that we would NOT be watching it in Hollywood or in Times Square or in an IMAX theatre.

No, the absolute best place for these people to gather together and watch the premier of their episode of insipid, overproduced, greed-filled opulence, would be in some small village in Africa, or in some coastal village in Thailand, or in some farming village in Guatemala, or in the heart of the poorest neighborhood of Bombay. Oh yeah, and all the villagers and locals would be a part of the premier party. It would be really interesting to see if the mood of the original party would be the same as the premier party or if it would, for some reason, be slightly different. If those kids (and parents) had any humility at all, I would hope that the MTV cameras caught that on film and tacked those scenes onto the end of the episode. In my heart of hearts, I believe that those kids (and their parents) would tone their act down a little; at least while the cameras were rolling.

How’s that for “My” Super Sweet Sixteen?

The Real Dog and Pony Show

Before I get this here missive going full-steam ahead, I want to issue a disclaimer before I unwittingly offend anyone on staff who happens to bring a four-legged furry friend to school on a consistent or inconsistent basis. The subject of this particular entry is not the Daisys, the Moccos, the Marges, the Lexys, or the Lacys of the La Entrada world. The above-mentioned title and following essay are not in ANY WAY about those dogs; I actually like those little critters. What follows is intended to be about the other furry, four-legged creatures that roam about campus NOT between the hours of 8 am and 3 pm.

So, are my intentions clear here, or what? Good. Now, read on.

For as long as I’ve been alive, I have been allergic to dogs (and cats and horses; frankly any animal with fur is on my allergy list). Whenever I am exposed to a dog in a confined space I get a serious asthma attack within about ten minutes of initial contact. In the past, my only antidote to the attack was to leave the area where the dog was located and within an hour or so, my breathing would return to normal. Why not use an inhaler, you ask? Well, for whatever reason, when I was a kid and first found out about my problem, my doctor never prescribed one and so I’ve learned to just deal with the situation as I have described it above. With the commercial availability of Claritin a few years ago came major relief for me. I could actually spend hours at a time in the presence of a dog and not suffer much at all. Of course, I would be a little congested when the pill wore off, but overall. things were looking up for me.

Now that you know all about my history with animal-related asthma, I just want to point out that while I have nothing against dogs, I could just as easily spend my life avoiding them and be a-okay. In fact, when I am out in public, and this I swear happens to me every time, dogs seem to be able to sense my allergies and subsequent avoidance of them, and they flock to me like I am wearing a suit made out of marinated steaks.

This little routine even happens to me when I am at school on the weekends, nights, and during the summer. If you’ve ever been on campus during school hours, you will notice that we are a relatively dog-friendly campus. But things are just ridiculous on the weekends and at night during the school year. There are easily 15 to 20 dogs a day roaming around this place, with and without their owner nearby. Just a few weeks ago, when I first started working for the year in my classroom, around 5 pm-ish, this dog ran right up to my classroom and started barking at me. This woman, I assume she was the owner, who was up the hall, asked me if I was a teacher, explained to me that the dog is just territorial and was guarding it’s turf. Well, lady, I hate to tell you, but this is actually MY turf, thank you very much.

There is also this GIGANTIC brown poodle that gallops around this place like a dinosaur did during the jurassic period. I swear this “horsie dog” (my pet name for this thing) literally gallops across the blacktop and has a not-so-nice temperament when relating to other dogs.

But the best was a few years ago when I was working in my room and I heard the familar sounds of the jingle jangle of dogs roaming through the halls and for whatever reason I got up out of my chair and walked to my classroom door just in time to see a dog drinking from our school water faucet that the owner was holding in the on position for the dog. I mean, doesn’t the vision of a dog lapping water from a water fountain seem appetizing to you as a thirsty, water drinking human? Incredulously, I stood there, loudly cleared my throat to get her attention, and I watched as the embarrased pet owner quickly and quietly left. I couldn’t believe it either.

At least to everyone’s credit who uses this school as their personal doggie park, there aren’t a lot of noticable dog-bombs unpicked-up around campus. But then again, I don’t get out onto the large expanse of green grass we have here all that often, either.

Gotta love the dog and pony show.

Life at 24 (Hour Fitness, That Is)

Have you ever been so annoyed at someone, so irritated at the actions of that person, so perturbed with their very being, that you just want to grab them by the sweatshirt sleeves and say, “Dude, what are you thinking? Why are you doing that? Just answer me that.”

Well, if you have ever felt like that, then I have a feeling you might enjoy this MAJOR rant. If the above-described situation seems a little out of context to you, then, wow, can we trade places in life sometime? I’d love to live life free of annoying people and situations like you seem to be doing. Either way, though, on with the rant.

I was at the gym the other day, and yes, it was a 24 Hour Fitness as you may have surmised from the title, and I was going about my usual fitness routine. I had just recently added about a half hour of weight training to my regimen of cardio and crunches during the past three weeks, just to give you a little background of the situation.

About twenty minutes through running on the treadmill, I look up and notice a guy get on the elliptical machine a few rows in front of me wearing the hood on his sweatshirt over his head and a weightbelt around his waist. Mind you, we’re indoors, it’s warm, and he’s getting on a stationary cardio machine with his weightbelt on and a hood over his head. I knew that this was a character to keep my eye on.

Ten minutes or so later, I was midway through my three hundred crunches when I heard the loud and heavy slamming of the weights on a weight machine smashing down on themselves. I turned around and I saw Mr Hooded Sweatshirt and weightbelt strutting around a shoulder press machine. Hmm. Interesting. Three minutes later, I hear the same crash, boom, bang coming from his little corner of the gym. Hmm.

So, when I finished my crunches, I made my way to the chest press machine right next to where he was resting after a set. Then as he finished his last set on that machine with the usual sonic flurry, I realized what he was doing. He was the kind of guy that likes to let go of the weights (the handles more aptly) and likes the sound of them slamming on the rest of the stack of black weights.

Guys like that just burn me up. He obviously needs the attention that the sound of slamming the weights down brings him. I mean, everybody looks to see what happened and there he is, all puffed out and pumped up, looking like he just hoisted a ten ton girder of steel in the air. And the hooded sweatshirt, come on man, don’t even get me started. Yeah, I get it, that you may sweat more, but dude, you look ridiculous wearing a hood inside a building.

But you know, at least you weren’t wearing sunglasses; I’ve seen those guys in the gym, too. With their hooded sweatshirts on and their clacking weights. Talking on the cell phone. Trying to chat up women, who wear makeup to the gym.

Yeah, don’t get me started.