Friday, November 23, 2018

The Macy's Day Charade

The Macy’s Day Parade has jumped the shark… or I should say, jumped the duck. The AFLAC duck that is.

From the moment the over-caffeinated “Today Show” team burst on to my TV screen for this must-see Thanksgiving ritual so began a three-hour parade of promotions for all things NBC, shows, sponsors, Tina Fey.  

This has always been part of the parade but now it has become the parade.

Savannah Guthrie, Hoda Kotb and Al Roker wore their best beauty queen smiles as they shilled in the chilled weather for their 30 Rock bosses and their bosses’ bosses—advertisers.

I actually feel a bit sorry for the “Today” crew.  After getting up 5 days a week hours before the ass crack of dawn you know they’d rather be home snug in bed waiting for their private chefs to arrive.  But, the show must go on.

Here are some of the ridiculous highlights of the Macy’s Day Charade :

1. Acapella stars, “Pentatonix,” perched on the Entenmann’s float surrounded by badly dancing donuts, cupcakes and pastries while they sing the melancholy “Where Are You Christmas?” Sugar and misery, anyone?

2. NBC TV stars’ sharing Thanksgiving memories. Most sounded like auditions for a Nicholas Sparks movie. “I remember Mom (insert sniffle), —when she was with us (insert lip bite, wince) …dropping the turkey when I walked in the door. “Bless the Lord,  you’re home! You’re really home!”  (insert turkey baster wherever needed, wince.)

3.  Diana Ross’ singing wig. Diva Diana’s hair was as big as a float and it kept floating in front of her face. NBC isn’t even sure it was actually Diana Ross. They are suing her wig for fraud.

4.  The “Jolly Green Giant” float which was surrounded by grown adults dressed as corn on the cob. Does anyone over the age of four believe these idiots are actually corn?

5.  Marching bands SUCK.  One band gets the gig. ONE BAND. It would shave a good two hours off of this horror show.

6.  Rockettes. It was 19 degrees outside. For the love of God, get those gals’ gams some goddamned leg warmers & play some “Flashdance.” I don’t care what the crazy “leg guys” want.
7.  Rita Ora missing her lip sync cue. She was obviously distracted by having to sing “wanting to have slept with you” on the whimsically colorful “Crazy Glue” float.
8.  The Today Show’s resident clown, Al Roker, on a motorcycle being chased by real clowns. At this point I took a break to baste the turkey.
9.  Back to the fAFLAC duck float. Are you kidding me, NBC? Even the former AFLAC duck, Gilbert Gottfried, would agree this is too much. (Google “Gottfried Tsunami joke” if you need a reference.)
10.  The ubiquitous Dwayne Johnson plugging The Titan Games and referring to Thanksgiving as the “ultimate cheat day.”  Yes, we love you, Rock, but don’t pass the gluttony guilt. Just pass the goddamned gravy.

The Macy’s Charade 2018.  NBC’s most successful comedy.  

I can’t wait to watch it again next year.

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

I Never Met A Shirt I Couldn’t Stain

I have a real problem. Or, maybe it’s an actual skill that I’ve been training for all of my life.

Whichever it is, it’s something my husband refers to as “remarkable.” 

Friends, family and occasional strangers are forever pointing out random, and sometimes inexplicable,  stains on most of my shirts.  I’m not a sloppy person, per se, but I have an uncanny ability to propel food from its container, my plate, my fork, my fingers onto my clothing. Hell, I’ve even had other people’s food go airborne finding a safe landing dead center on me. Sometimes I think I should just wear a tasteful tarp. They’re cheap, disposable and can be quite fashionable when cinched at the waist. 

The forensic evidence of my one-woman food fight is clear when I pick up the dry cleaning. Without fail several of my shirts come back with that little, “WE ARE SORRY BUT…” tags around the hanger. 

The tag is pretty humiliating.  After the “WE ARE SORRY BUT…” it goes on to say, “We’ve tried and tried but we find that the stains on this garment cannot be removed without possible injury to the color or fabric.” 

But what that tiny tag really implies is “We’re sorry, but quite frankly, you are the biggest slob of all of our customers. However, we do appreciate your stain business. Good luck at your next meal.”  

One time when at least a half a dozen of these tags came back with the cleaning my husband posted it on Facebook with the caption, “One week of Marianne’s dry cleaning and six of these tags. Remarkable.”

I know why food constantly finds its way on to my clothing. It’s hereditary. I got this from my Dad.

Growing up we constantly teased him about the food stains, usually Italian red sauce, which constantly adorned his shirts. One night after a linguini marinara dinner my brothers and I gave him a round of applause because not one drop landed on his shirt. He was so proud he grabbed his tie and held it up with a flourish exclaiming, “Ta Da!!” And there it was. A fresh greasy dab of marinara sauce under his tie.  Now, that takes some spill skill.

I rarely even know when stains are on me. I remember chatting with Bob while making him a late morning breakfast. I’d had mine hours ago. He stopped in mid-conversation to ask, “What is that?” as he pointed to my chest.

I looked down to see a blob of dried egg yolk dead center in the v-neck of my fresh white tee shirt. “Well, at least I won’t be getting one of those tags from the dry cleaners!” I said as I washed it off. 

Needless to say, that same shirt did not make it through lunch.