Mike Rowe may not have uttered those famous four words in response (too easy perhaps?) but the Michael Scott in me was practically screaming them out.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
This moment officially replaces the infamous (if only in my head) "I didn't even see it coming!" That's What She Said opportunity as my favorite and possibly the greatest ever. I was watching Dirty Jobs, where the job in question was to plug an abandoned mine shaft hole. The material used to plug the hole was a foam mixture. Mike and company mix the foam and pour it all over what looks like a huge trash bag, and the guy in charge of the operation says, "We have to let it harden before we put it in the hole."
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Remember the days when you could tune in to either the Discovery Channel or TLC and, without fail, catch a mind-numbing documentary about wildebeests humping? No matter what time of the day or night, you were sure to see those damn wildebeests mating or, on a day when the programming directors wished to spice things up a bit, a close-up of an insect doing...something. Thank GOD those days are over, am I right? Both channels have really stepped up their programming game in the past decade, broadcasting shows that are not only interesting, educational and funny, but also feature extremely good-looking male hosts. Tonight I wish to shine the spotlight on two such hosts: Curtis Stone and Mike Rowe.
I discovered who Curtis Stone was back in 2006 while idly channel surfing one day after classes. I landed on "Take Home Chef," a show he used to host on TLC, and couldn't bring myself to change the channel. His good looks and Aussie accent sucked me right in and I was hooked. I watched that show faithfully until its last episode. Curtis turned out to be instrumental in getting me to actually give a crap about cooking; up until then, I hated it. But by watching "Take Home Chef," I saw that cooking was actually interesting and could be--gasp--fun. And I was tired of eating Hot Pockets all the time. A surprising bonus was that even though I was watching it for the sole purpose of ogling Curtis, I found myself actually learning things about cooking I didn't know before. For example, did you know that the sharpness (or lack thereof) of your knife determines how much your eyes will tear while chopping onions? Oh, you did? Piss off, then. My point is that I didn't know that, and learning such tidbits of information I think made me a more competent cook. (Although I think a few friends and c0-workers would beg to differ; in fact, I can just hear the laughter now.)
Discovery Channel's "Dirty Jobs" is proof that I will watch a man shovel poop for an hour, provided the man is attractive. Enter the very manly and rugged Mike Rowe, who, in addition to shoveling poop, chums for sharks, collects trash and does a myriad of other disgusting tasks that allow the show to live up to its name. And yes, I am trying very very hard not to make a pun using the words "dirty," "job" or "dirty job." It's killing me. Anyway, Mike Rowe is the only man who can make shit look good. The dirty jobs he performs also happen to be very labor-intensive (Must. Not. Make. Pun.) and his body shows it. I LOVE his arms and chest. LOVE them. Every time I watch an episode my thoughts wander to what I would do if--well, I'll stop there before things get all X-rated up in here. Let's just say that I have a dirty job Mike can do if he's ever interested. (Yep, see, I knew I wouldn't be able to get through this post without making some sort of pun. Man, I feel better!)
I've noticed a theme appear from watching these men do their thing on television: I start out watching the shows just to gawk at the hot hosts, but I end up actually learning something in the process. So here's to Curtis Stone and Mike Rowe: Curtis, thanks to you, I now know that if I ever decide to cook a whole lobster, I should put it in a freezer first so the experience of taking a swim in a boiling pot of water won't be quite so traumatic. Mike, if I am ever faced with having to sex an alligator, I know from watching your show that I need to stick my finger up its ass to feel for a penis or lack thereof. Honestly, I'm not sure if I'll ever actually need to use this information, but if anything, it's a good conversation-starter at parties. So thanks guys! You make learning look good.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
As a woman goes through life, there are many milestones and "firsts" she is bound to encounter: her first love; her first kiss; the first time she has sex; the first time she has good sex; getting married; having kids; and ultimately experiencing these milestones all over again via her kids and grandkids. (Well, except for the sex part. That would be a little weird. And highly inappropriate.) However, there is one event that I think is valid enough to be included among these many "firsts," but always seems to be left out. That milestone? Her first piece of jewelry from Tiffany & Co.
Now, I'm sure there are people out there who would beg to differ. After all, buying a piece of jewelry isn't the same as, say, having a kid. And I'm not saying that the two are comparable at all. But when a woman receives a piece of jewelry from Tiffany's, whether she purchased it herself or received it as a gift, it's a special moment. Why? Well, quite simply put, it's unique. It's timeless. It's historic (the company was established in 1837!). Tiffany & Co. has solidified its reputation as an icon in our society, its name synonymous with sophistication, class, quality, and glamour. So when a woman unwraps that little blue box, she's not just getting a piece of jewelry. She's getting something that she can one day pass down to her daughters. She's getting a little piece of history. She's getting something that's iconic. And when this happens for the first time, I can guarantee you that as long as she lives, she will be able to recall every single detail about the event: where she was, who it was from, the occasion, etc.
My first (and, to date, only) Tiffany's piece was the result of an impulse buy last summer. My friend Jenna was in town, we went to the mall, and wound up in Tiffany's, gazing at and trying on different pieces. I ended up walking out with a silver ring that was part of its 1837 collection:
Probably not the smartest purchase I ever made, but I don't regret making it. It was so thrilling to see the saleswoman box it up in that signature blue box and give to me to take home. As silly as this sounds, I felt grown-up. To me, that ring represented crossing the threshold into adulthood.
My friend Meagan recently experienced her first Tiffany's moment. She and her husband visited New York City, where she purchased a yellow citrine solitaire necklace from the flagship store. Aside from being just a teensy bit jealous that she got to visit the NYC store, I once again felt that little thrill when I got her text message that read, "I bought a necklace at Tiffany's!" I knew the excitement she was experiencing; I had experienced it myself a year prior.
Below is the necklace, and I think you'll agree with me that it's gorgeous. But, of course, I wasn't expecting anything less; Meagan has excellent taste, and hello, it's Tiffany!
The first time is always special, am I right? Here's to the beginning of our Tiffany's collections. :-)