Observations of a First-Time Superbowl™ Watcher

by Camille Posted on February 2, 2009

I’ve never seen a Superbowl game in my life before last night.  (Come to think of it, I’ve never sat through, and paid attention to, an entire football game.  Ever.  [I have a very short attention span.])

Last night, however, when my home team made it to the game, I knew they were counting on me to root for them.  They needed me, and I wasn’t about to fail them…

…I only wish they’d paid me the same consideration.

We lost, and it was a very bitter loss for me—I had no concept in my head that they would lose.  I just…couldn’t fathom it.  It’s not that I am a die-hard Cardinals fan; I’m not and I never have been.  It’s just that, well, they’re representing me.  To all these Canadians up here, the Cardinals = Camille.  Arizona = Arizona.  And so, while I’ve never had anything to do with the Cardinals before, I didn’t feel guilty cheering for them because they’d never had anything to do with me, either.  (That’s the way I use logic: logically.)

Anyway, it was a total bust.  The Cardinals lost, which tells Canadians that I am a loser, because of the aforementioned equation. I did manage to come away from it with some interesting observations, however—stuff I’d never known before because I’d never cared before:

1.  There are aspects of football that look very much like ballet.

That man in yellow tights, Santonio Holmes, caught the ball and did all the right things to make it a touchdown.  If you were watching the game, you—like I—might have noticed how gracefully he caught the ball and fell, while keeping his twinkle-toes planted firmly on the turf.  I guess that’s important, but to me it just looked beautiful.   All images from FoxSports.com.

2.  Long hair is spectacular in still-motion shots.

At first I couldn’t figure out why so many players had grown out their hair long—didn’t it get in the way?  Was it some sort of Samson and Delilah situation?  A good luck charm?  But it all became clear to me as I watched the same plays over and over, in slow motion: they grow it out so it will look cool.  That hair is amazing, flipping and flouncing around in all its football glory.  Larry Fitzgerald (above) and Troy Polamalu (below) have the right idea.

3.  Those cheerleaders still exist?  They must not know how worthless they are…

I don’t know how much those women get paid to wear white knee-high boots with long sleeves and a mini skirt (it’s like they can’t decide what weather to dress for, so they are covered for some of each), but it’s undoubtedly more than they’re worth.  Last night, I watched almost every second of the game and the commercials, and I saw only ONE clip of cheerleaders.  Do they really think the players can hear their cheers over the loud, drunken millions from the stadium seats?  Do they think the cameras are going to be rolling on their perfect bodies instead of the actual game?  Seriously.  In these hard economic times, I’m surprised the team owners haven’t saved themselves some cash and dropped these women already.  I don’t think the cheerleaders realise how pointless their job actually is.  Poor them…

4.  It’s really quite exhausting.

This man had just run from one end of the field to the other (100 yards), with the football in his arms, dodging obstacle after muscle-faced obstacle, to score a touchdown.  I wasn’t cheering for his team, but I was nevertheless quite impressed. I was tired just from the screaming, so I can’t really imagine how he must’ve felt.

All in all, though I really enjoyed my game-watching experience with Poor Kyle and the Poor In-Laws, I don’t think I’ll ever do it again for two reasons: First, I will only ever care about it if the Cardinals make it again, which is doubtful.  And secondly, if they do make it, I’ll just get my hopes up and they’ll fail me again.  I can’t take that kind of disappointment in my life.

But hey, how about The Office?  That was a nice bonus for all my hard work.

Posted in failures, It's All Good, oh brother what next, Recreation | Tagged , | 22 Comments

Pity the Fool.

by Camille Posted on January 30, 2009

Image from here.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done a question/answer post, so today I am going to remedy that oversight.  If you’re new to Archives of Our Lives, first of all: WELCOME!  Secondly, here’s how it goes: The name of the game is “Ask Me Anything.”  Ask me any burning question you have, by way of comment or email [archiveslives@gmail.com], and I will answer it.  When?  When it suits my fancy.  Usually the days I answer questions are Thursdays (except today), and normally I only answer one question per post.  No question will go unanswered…but some may take a while for me to reach.

Today’s question comes from an original reader, and a very good friend of mine, Lindsay. She writes:

“I’ve got a good question prompt for you Camille that I think people would enjoy your answers to…  Whom do you pity? Or who do you think even deserves pity? Would a tragically unemployed housewife such as myself qualify? The unshaven bum on the corner? The Disneyland teacup workers? A mother of 10? Oh, the list could go on and on!”

A: Well, Lindsay, you’ve got one thing right, my friend: The list of people I pity could go on and on.  Despite the fact that I’m kind of grouchy and don’t really like people in general, I am nevertheless very generous in dishing out my pity on deserving individuals.  Among my most pitied are the following:

-Immigrants who have to work jobs they loathe because their options are so limited (i.e. plunging toilets in filthy movie theatres at 3 a.m. every weekend).

-People who are literally unable to help themselves.

-People who have to walk to the grocery store.  Especially in Arizona.  This stirs deep feelings of pity inside my otherwise-empty soul.  It’s probably silly—a lot of people likely enjoy their walks [I myself have even been known to do it from time to time].  Still, it makes me very sad.

But I’m not going to talk about any of those pitiful people today.  I’m going one step further.  The type of person I pity most in this world is the person who gets on my bad side.

Not because I am vicious; I don’t keep a Burn Book or anything.

Though if I did, it would be a tasteful Moleskine™, not a trashy pink thing like this.  Please, girls, show some tact.  Image from here.

No; when a person gets on my bad side, well…that’s the end of it. Like our dear Mr. Darcy once said, “My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.”

It’s true.  I try to give people every benefit of the doubt, and I do my darnedest to let people earn my trust, but if (and when) it becomes undeniably clear that I cannot respect a person…I never will. Furthermore, if I am mistreated, disrespected, or two-timed enough by someone previously dear to me, it is over—and fast.  If I can’t find a loyal friend, then I don’t need a friend at all.  That’s what I say.

Some might consider this a bad quality, and that I ought to forgive and forget and turn my other yadda yadda; I, however, consider it NOT BEING A SUCKER. This is how I live my life, daily striving not to be a sucker.  It’s very liberating.

There was a time in my life when the most important feature I looked for in a friend or a date was humour—whether or not so-and-so could make me laugh.  But I’ve changed.  Now, I’m all about loyalty.  And sincerity.  Really.

You could be as boring as a trigonometry textbook on sleeping pills, but if you were always genuinely nice to me, I’d be your lifelong pal.  Image from here.

So what have we learned from this, class?

Simple: Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, and earn my unending pity, because you lost out on something wonderful…

Truly, a face only a mother could love. Who wouldn’t want to be loyal to a person like this?  Anyone?

[Cue crickets.]

Posted in ask me anything, watch out or I'll blog about you, what I'm about | Tagged | 16 Comments

Time to Tackle Potato Skins.

by Camille Posted on January 28, 2009

The Super Bowl is only days away, and most sports fans out there are anxious for the big game.  Having been born and raised in Arizona, there should be no doubt of my chosen alliance this season.  (Actually, I predict most Arizonans were completely shocked to hear the Cardinals have made it this far; usually they’re quite a laughingstock.)

A few weeks ago we learned how to add a Mexican element—pico de gallo with tortilla chips—to our game-day menu.  This week, just in time for some last minute grocery shopping, we’re going to tackle another Super Bowl Day favourite: potato skins.

Potato skins are easy and simple to make, and generally quite cost-effective.  This particular recipe can be doubled or halved, depending on the size of the crowd.  It would even work with just one potato, if you’re watching the game solo, but where’s the fun in that?

Potato Skins
(serves 4-6)

You can see my purple kitchen walls in the background.  I think they’re so ugly.  I’m hoping to update them soon with a mellow butter yellow (also pictured just above the bacon there).  What do you think?  (Oh, and disregard the ugly blue Formica™ counters.  They’ll be a nice dark butcher block.

Ingredients:

* 6 small-to medium-sized russet baking potatoes (3 pounds)
* Olive oil
* Salt
* Freshly-ground pepper
* 6 strips of bacon (or 1/3 cup bacon bits)
* 1 cup grated cheddar cheese (Mozzarella works, too.)
* 1/2 cup sour cream
* 2 green onions, thinly sliced, including the greens of the onions

Method:

1. Scrub the potatoes clean.  When dry, rub potatoes with olive oil and bake in a 400°F oven for about an hour, or until the potatoes are cooked through and give a little when pressed.

[At this point I got sidetracked and stopped taking pictures of the process.  Sorry!  Luckily, I am basically copying this recipe from elise.com, so if you need more photographic support, click here. There’s lots of good pictures showing how the process works.]

2. (If using pre-cooked bacon bits, disregard this step and continue to Step 3.)  While the potatoes are cooking, cook the bacon strips in a frying pan on medium heat for 10 to 15 minutes, or until crisp. Drain on paper towels. Let cool. Crumble.

3. Remove the potatoes from the oven and let cool enough to handle. Cut in half horizontally. Use a spoon to scoop out the insides carefully, leaving about 1/4 of an inch of potato on the skin.  (Reserve the potato innards for another use, if you can think of one.)

4. Increase the heat of the oven to 450°F. Brush or rub olive oil all over the potato skins, outside and in. Sprinkle with salt. Place on a cookie sheet. Cook for 10 minutes on one side, then flip the skins over and cook for another 10 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool enough to handle.

5. Arrange the potato skins skin-side down on the cookie sheet.  (They should look like little bird nests or bowls.) Sprinkle the insides with freshly ground black pepper, cheese of your choice, and crumbled bacon. Return to the oven. Bake for an additional 2 minutes, or until the cheese is bubbly. Remove from oven. Use tongs to place skins on a serving plate.  Add a dollop of sour cream to each skin and garnish with green onions.

Image from here.

6. Serve immediately.

*Note: These are best when served immediately; however, with careful planning, they can be prepared through Step 4 and refrigerated up to a day ahead of time.  About an hour before serving, remove from fridge and let warm to room temperature while you preheat the oven to 450°F.  Then, just before guests arrive, proceed with Steps 5 and 6.

Posted in cooking | Tagged , | 19 Comments

I’ve Been Avoiding This All My Life…

by Camille Posted on January 27, 2009

…Yet here it is.

I’ve made an appointment to have a wisdom teeth removal consultation, free of charge.  Kind of makes it sound like a tree trimming service, doesn’t it?  (Oh, how I wish it were; I’d much rather have my trees chopped down than massive holes drilled into my face.)

It has to happen, because those greedy fatsos (and yes, I have all four of them) are crowding the rest of my teeth, causing them to become more crooked with every passing second.

Don’t think I didn’t notice it, because I did.  No amount of flossing will save me this time…

I know it has to be done…but it’s not going to happen before I whine and complain about it for hours on end.  I’m not kidding: I really don’t want to have my wisdom teeth removed.  As a matter of fact, undergoing that particular surgery is one of my biggest fears in life, second only to childbirth, and right ahead of awkward small-talk.  On the hierarchy of things I would rather not do in my life…well, it pretty much reigns supreme.  I bet you’d like to see that list, wouldn’t you?  Okay…

Things in My Life I Would Rather Not Do

1.  Give birth

2.  Have four holes drilled into my face bones and four giant teeth wrenched from their sockets

3.  Engage in awkward small-talk

4.  Face confrontation

5.  Walk down Main Street completely naked

6.  Sing a solo in public

7.  Own a cat

8.  Try to bake dinner rolls

9.  Read a poem

10.  Starve

So there you have it.  As you can see, I am very anti-wisdom teeth being pulled.  It is not the surgery that worries me—it’s the post-op.  The road to recovery is long and hard, so I’m told.  My fears originated in high school, when I witnessed my friends’ and relatives’ recoveries from the procedure.  I heard horror stories of being sent home from the surgery armed with hand-held suctions and syringes, to help remove food particles that would likely get lodged in the massive hollows of the jaw.  I have been privy to tales of woebegone souls who suffer from sock-jocket or dry-locket or whatever the horrible affliction is called that often accompanies the recovery.  I have seen the bloody rags, dripping with viscous saliva, that are used to quell the flow of blood to the throat.

I can handle my face swelling up to the size of a small planet, truly.  But I can NOT handle the thought of an entire pea embedding itself into my gums.

I am queasy now, which is a direct result of my inability to deal with crap like this.  Just think how I’ll be when I actually go through with it.

That will be a post you won’t want to miss.

Posted in I hate change, sad things, what a nightmare, woe is me | Tagged , , | 33 Comments

Ch-Ch-Ch-Chatter.

by Camille Posted on January 26, 2009

I’m sorry I didn’t post anything yesterday—I couldn’t type because my fingers were frozen:

Don’t mind me, though: they thawed out once I chopped down the tree outside, stuffed it in my fireplace, doused it in lighter fluid and let ‘er rip. Child’s play, really.

In my Canadian literature class, I’m reading some excerpts from Roughing It in the Bush, by an early Canadian settler, Susanna Moodie.  The opening lines of her narrative include this theory, which I found particularly prophetic:

“In most instances, emigration is a matter of necessity….  Few educated persons, accustomed to the refinements and luxuries of European society, ever willingly relinquish those advantages, and place themselves beyond the protective influence of the wise and revered institutions of their native land, without urgent case.  Emigration may, indeed, generally be regarded as an act of severe duty, performed at the expense of personal enjoyment…”

I know, I know.  It sounds like a whole lot of blather.  [This is what I have to put up with every day.  Seriously.]  Since I’m majoring in English, and because it’s my job, I will now attempt to decipher Ms. Moodie’s words, and translate them into present-day lingo:

“Almost without fail, people who move to Canada do it because they have to. No self-respecting person with half a brain would leave their nice, warm countries willingly, just so they could traipse through the freaking barren wasteland with nothing but the shirt on their backs, unless they were in dire straits. Generally speaking, emigration is a last resort, and a total drag at that.”

Okay, Canadians: before you get all huffy, just keep in mind that Susanna Moodie said these things, not me.  I was just sitting there, minding my own business and reading my assigned chapters, when suddenly BAM!  The aforementioned lines jumped off the page and bit me in the nose (figuratively speaking).

Of course, she might have written them, but I can’t say that I deny her words, either.  In fact, she’s actually got a really good point:  I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be living here now if I had any (seriously…any) other option.  It’s a beautiful country; it really is.  I like the people, I like my neighborhood, I like the government, I like the free health care…

…But I don’t like the cold.  And it’s really cold.

See there, under “Tonight?”  It reads, “Bitterly cold.”  Bitter. Cold.  Even the weather channel can’t deny it.

And I know, I talk about it all the time.  I’m sorry, truly.  I’ll stop talking about it when my brain defrosts and can think of something else to say.

Posted in Canada, It's All Good, oh brother what next | Tagged | 13 Comments

Underscore for Emphasis.

by Camille Posted on January 22, 2009

Tonight I came home from my English classes after a long day of reading, writing, and note taking.  I was exhausted.  In between lectures, I can often be found pouring over textbooks in some dimly lit corner of the prison university, trying to get a handle on all the literature I’m required to know—not for that day’s classes, but for next week’s. Because in this business, if you’re not ahead…you’re behind.

[At a thousand bucks a pop, there’s no way I’m letting myself fall behind.  What a waste of money that would be.]

Anyway, I was home, I was tired, and I was famished. I sat down to a plate of chips and homemade salsa (thanks to my Aunt Jenni who divulged her secret recipe, which I can pretty much duplicate now), reveling in every delicious bite.  I reached for a copy of the local newspaper, and flipped through its pages until I found an article that interested me.  It was all about how Mayberry’s town council thinks we should get real garbage bins and a real garbage truck [a motion I totally second, by the way], and I was completely enthralled…

…until I became uncomfortable.  Something seemed a little…weird.  I couldn’t quite place it; the verbiage in the article was grammatically correct.  The proper nouns were capitalised.  What was wrong?

Suddenly it struck me like a gangster with brass knuckles:

I wasn’t holding a pen in my hand!

That’s right; I can no longer read any form of printed literature—be it a newspaper article, a library book, or a weekly sales ad—without a ballpoint pen on guard, ready to underscore any main point I find.

I got to the point where I was underlining so much, my marks became completely void of any emphatic value, so I resorted to layering over the ultra-important passages with orange hi-lighter.

I’m pretty sure I won’t even try to sell my books back at the end of this semester…

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is either called brainwashing, or a very bad case of too much dadgum school.

Posted in my edjumacation and me, oh brother what next | Tagged | 20 Comments

Death by Consumerism

by Camille Posted on January 21, 2009

As you know, I struggle with group projects.

If I could have done it my way, I would have turned in this as my ballad:

Death By Consumerism

(Dedicated to Jdimytai Damour, 34 years)

‘Twas a perilous time to be waitin’ in line
For a steal of a deal in November.
They’d slept there all night under parking lot lights,
For a steal of a deal in November.

And behind the glass doors, a man lowly and poor
Had an eight-to-five shift in November.
He’d figured the math; he’d make time-and-a-half
So he offered to work that November.

He mentioned out loud, “This is one mighty crowd,”
And he worried they might become antsy.
“I had best do my best to protect my blue vest;
If I have to, I’ll try something fancy.”

As the hour drew near, the mob waited in fear
That they might not secure the year’s presents.
Each one of them planned to outrun the next man
In the quest to secure the year’s presents.

And behind the glass door, the man lowly and poor
Said, “It’s time,” and he went to unlock it.
As he did, they rushed in, each one looking to win
In the battle to empty their pockets.

Image from here.

All the shoppers despaired there was no time to spare
As they elbowed their way through the entrance.
Then up through the mass came a cry from a lass
Who had tripped on a fellow by mischance.

“Is it me? Can it be what I think that I see,
There’s a man and he looks to be trampled.
Well I hope he’s okay, he’ll get better someday
As for me, I see coupons and samples.”

Still behind the glass doors, the man trodden and poor
Caught his breath, but too soon it was lost.
Looking up at a sign that read $3.99
His last thought: “It was not worth the cost.”

So there it is, ladies and gentlemen.  That’s what I can produce in 40 minutes by myself versus 40 minutes in a group.

p.s.  I’m joining in on all the Spin Cycle fun, hosted weekly by Sprite’s Keeper. The theme of the week was “Rhyme Time,” which just happened to fit perfectly with the theme of my life this week. Only as an English major would I ever consider rhymes a central part of my life.  What have I done…

Posted in my edjumacation and me, sad things, spin cycle, what I'm about | Tagged | 16 Comments