When Galaxies Collide (or Random Worry #3)

You all probably already noticed that the Hubble telescope just took some amazing photos of two galaxies colliding. I thought I'd share the intellectually riveting conversation Jose and I had about them. (As an excuse, let me just say that we were both checking email at the time--he on our ancient desktop PC, and I on my laptop. Our conversations usually go a little better than this....)

TRACY: Did you see these Hubble photos?

JOSE: Of what?

TRACY: The two galaxies colliding?

JOSE: No.

TRACY: There are two galaxies colliding.

JOSE: Cool.

TRACY: What if there are aliens living in one of those galaxies?

JOSE: Poor aliens.

TRACY: That would suck, to just be milling about, minding your own business, and this galaxy comes and collides with yours.

JOSE: Mmmm. Yeah.

TRACY: You know, that's really scary!

JOSE: Why?

TRACY: Um, because it's a GALAXY!!! Colliding with one that looks a LOT like ours.

JOSE: Huh.

TRACY: The offending galaxy is just this lumpy little mess, but the other one that's just sitting there is all swirly, like ours.

JOSE: So?

TRACY: SOOOO, what if a galaxy came and collided with us!?

JOSE: I think we'd know if a galaxy was going to collide with us!

TRACY: Yeah, but it's not like we could do anything about it. At least with a meteor, we kind of have a chance. But you can't send the Shuttle up to divert an entire freaking galaxy.

JOSE: Oh. Yeah. ... Guess not.

Best. Widget. Evah.

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Freaky Friday

(cross-posted at the Intrigue Authors blog)

I did a past-life regression a few years ago. I pretty much just relegate the whole past-life theory to the Weird Things I Can't Prove or Explain pile in my head. But I was at an RWA conference and had previously met the woman who was offering past-life sessions (that would be the lovely Melinda Rucker Haynes, an author and creativity coach, in case you're curious), so I thought it might be an adventure.

So during the session, which Melinda calls "personal time travel," I lay down on a hotel room bed, and she led me through some relaxation exercises. Once she started talking me toward the past, I could clearly see an outline of a mass of people, shoulder to shoulder. It was dark, but there was enough light filtered from above that their outlines were all strangely illuminated. Somehow, I knew this was a benign mob, so I wasn't scared at all. But I did spend the better part of our session trying to figure out what the heck they were, which I'm sure was really exciting for Melinda.

Once she finally talked my stubborn self into moving away from that particular conundrum, I mentally ended up in a wheat field, staring at an ex-boyfriend in some kind of medieval warrior getup. It was all very Gladiator-like, except this was pre-Gladiator. Anyway, I wasn't having that, so I started laughing and moved on myself. Because there's a reason he's my ex-boyfriend, and though I don't wish him ill, one lifetime with him in it was quite enough, thankyouverymuch.

So then, I moved on to England, around the end of the eighteenth century. "I" was an extremely spoiled French noblewoman married to an older, ugly but very rich Englishman who had whisked me to England during the early days of the Reign of Terror. Though he probably saved my pampered booty, given what happened to the noble classes during the Terror, I was pretty much too bratty to appreciate it. It was like being an 18th century Lindsay Lohan with Marie Antoinette hair. I hated him and hated England, but I loved the horses he bought me and spent every moment I could riding them AWAY from him. Funny thing--today, I love my husband to pieces, but the much-loathed ed Englishman looked a lot like a bloated, wonky version of him. (Melinda told me that perhaps my husband tried for a do-over in this life, and so attempted to come back attractive to me. I'm not sure my Lindsay Lohan self deserved all that effort, but whatever he did, it worked!)

I don't do well with horses now--they don't steer right for me. And I would hope there's no trace left of this spoiled girl in me now. But I have to say, when I listened to the tape afterward, I found I delivered this entire portion in a flawless (and extremely pouty) French accent. It's pretty hilarious--wish I could share it with you!

Once we moved on, "I" ended up as a man in his late 70s during WWII in Boston. This time, I adopted a flawless Irish accent, and I was quite the flirt. I lived very simply, was a widower who deeply missed my wife Mary, and I considered it my mission in life to lift people's spirits at home during the war. So I would go down to the nursing homes or the park and play cards or chess with "the old people," or I'd head down to the park and juggle and do magic tricks for the kids. I think I even flirted with Melinda at some point in the process--not one of "my" finer moments, although I am happy to say that I wasn't pervy about it.

Today, I can't do magic and I'm hopeless at juggling. I do have a pretty sarcastic sense of humor that I don't often shut off in conversation, but I'm not quite as extroverted as this dude was.

So, all in all, it was a pretty fun way to spend an hour, and it REALLY fired up my imagination. I don't know if these two were really past lives, or if we somehow tapped into some weird frequency from the past. Or, I guess it could simply be that my writer's brain combined with my college acting experience just went into overdrive during hypnosis. I just chalk it up to a fun experience and relegate the rest to Weird Things I Can't Prove or Explain. They ARE fun to ponder when one is waxing philosophical, though.

Oh, and I did figure out what the strangely illuminated mob was. Again, that session was at an RWA conference, and it took place prior to the Rita awards ceremony, which is always held in a large theater auditorium. On the night of the Ritas, I took my seat somewhere in the middle, and as soon as the main lights went down, I noticed that everyone around me was barely illuminated by the stage lights, giving them a faint, halo-like outline all around their upper bodies. I swiveled in my chair, so I could see the crowd behind me, facing me ...

And it was exactly what I'd seen in my session.

I like to think that that was my opera diva life. Might have to find Melinda again sometime and capture more of it!

Have you ever been hypnotized, even if it wasn't for a past life regression? Or, if you've ever pondered past lives, what do you think yours would have been?

American Idol: Top 7 Recap

TRACY: So Mariah Carey was surprisingly coherent and not the megalomaniacal crazy I thought she'd be--at least on the first night. The second night was a bit of a different matter entirely, but we'll get there....

TROY: Wouldn't it have been great if she came out in an oversized graffiti t-shirt with a popsicle cart, ala her "Glitter" meltdown?

TRACY: OMG, totally.

TROY: Oh, well.

TRACY: For all the reasons that everyone else was against Mariah Carey night, I was against Mariah Carey night. But I actually enjoyed much of it--probably because my favorite contestants left are men and having men sing Mariah Carey is "unexpected" and "a risk" rather than a horrible wannabe yet pale imitation (*cough*SyeshadoingFantasia*cough*).

TROY: Well, it seemed like a trap from the "Saw" series. Each season, the judges have to tell a contestant (Hi, Syesha!) that they will never, ever be Whitney/Mariah/Celine, despite said contestant's protests. To have every contestant sing songs from an artist they will never live up to just seemed sick and wrong. However, there were quite a few surprises (both good and bad).

TRACY: We started off with DAVID ARCHULETA singing (SURPRISE!) a ballad from a Disney film

TROY: (Er…Dreamworks film, actually.)

TRACY: Whatever. If anyone was put on this earth to sing Disney ballads ...

TROY: (Er…Dreamworks ballads.)

TRACY: (Whatever.) ... it was David the human plush toy. If anyone was NOT put on this earth to wear leather pants, it was David the human plush toy.

BLAAAAAAAARGH! What the hell were you thinking, Idol Stylist? It's like slapping vinyl chaps and a spiked collar on Teddy Ruxpin. The operative phrase is SICK AND WRONG, people.

TROY: At least they were baggy leather pants?

TRACY: I was so squicked out by the leather pants, I barely registered the song. I'm sure he was smashing as always. But leather pants? GAH!!!!!!!!

TROY: Ohhhh-kay. First off, Syesha must have been PISSED that she didn't get to sing this song. Since it was originally a duet between Mariah and Whitney Houston, Syesha would have had DOUBLE THE OVERREACHING! Anyway … I didn't think David was that great this week. Of COURSE he chose the "Prince of Egypt" song, but I didn't feel like he added anything new to it. It was just sort of a bland version of the Mariah/Whitney sing-off." Not like it matters … David is essentially the 4th Jonas Brother now and pretty much unstoppable. Evil stage parent, be damned.

TRACY: Next up was CARLY SMITHSON singing "Without You." She actually covered up the tats and looked rather elegant in her pretty dress, and she didn't seem to be as rage-filled as she did last week. I thought she did a solid job with the song. Unfortunately, solid just isn't going to be the Davids, but I hope she hangs on. She is, after all, the best female vocalist we have left, and I know she has another "Come Together" in her.

TROY: Carly definitely toned down the Runaway Bride eyes this week and stopped screaming at us. I just thought she was totally meh. Wouldn't it have been cool if she did an acoustic version of "Heartbreaker?" In fact, why didn't anyone sing one of Mariah's fun songs. Funsucking contestants.

TRACY: Mariah has fun songs?

SYESHA MERCADO sang "Vanishing." Yawn. Still done with her.

TROY: Agreed. I don't even want to write about her anymore. She makes obnoxious song choices, is rumored to be a betch, and doesn't even provide the trainwreck factor that manic Mary Poppins has. Speaking of ….

TRACY: I thought BROOKE WHITE was unspeakably atrocious. She delivered "Hero" with all the nuance and subtlety of a live hand grenade. It was like having your mother nag you for a solid two-and-a-half minutes while accompanying herself on the piano. Ugh. Just ... ugh.

And I don't know why NO ONE has mentioned this on any AI blogs that I visit (OK, that's all of two. But still.), but did you notice how when Simon was delivering her critique, Brooke interrupted him to shrill, "Mariah Carey PRAISED me."

Honey, Mariah Carey praised EVERYONE. She admitted herself that she's not comfortable criticizing people, and she probably would have praised Sanjaya with a bad case of strep. Get. Over. Yourself. RIGHTNOW!

I want her to go. Now. Get her off my TV screen, America. Seriously.

TROY: America, keep Brooke in for ATLEAST another couple of weeks. What will I do without my AI trainwreck to look forward to? Be honest, you LOVE seeing what crazy shizz she's going to pull off every week, inching closer to the brink of insanity.

The wide, bat-crap crazy eyes! The extending pouty lip of bewilderment that the judges would critique Princess Brooke! The unstable shaking! Brooke White, you are the gift that keeps giving.

TRACY: Somehow, I just can't bring myself to be amused by excessive annoyance. Take that gift back to Wal-Mart and leave it there with the cheap sweatshop towels and fake organic fruit. Moving on ... I thought KRISTY LEE COOK did a solid and quite pretty version of "Forever." I liked the country take on it, and I could actually see myself listening to that more than once.

My husband Jose liked Kristy's performance so much, that it coupled with the aforementioned denouement to Brooke's month-long whine-a-thon caused him to take a flying leap off the Brooke train onto Kristy Lee's haywagon. Unfortunately, Kristy Lee's haywagon drove on for exactly 24 hours beyond that performance, so now Jose is wagon-less and quite grumpy about it. He's been muttering "Brooke totally should have went." every time someone so much as considers saying the words "American Idol" around him.

SEE what you did, America! MY POOR, TRAUMATIZED HUSBAND!

Long story short, I thought Kristy deserved another week for improving yet again and for being a million light years better and more likeable than Pasty McWhinypants.

TROY: I HATE that I'm about to say this, but I actually started to like Kristy in the last couple of weeks. She's proven herself to be self-deprecating while having a sense of humor. Her voice has also grown so much. Her "Forever" was actually really good in my opinion. It was just a slightly country twinged version that would be pleasant enough to hear on the radio. Damn you, Kristy Lee Cook! You were my trainwreck! I must be growing soft, Tracy.

TRACY: Yeah, but she deserved us to go soft on her--she improved!

DAVID COOK was once again genius. I've always hated "Always Be My Baby." Mariah may write her own songs, but they are largely sentimental crap. However, David is so good, he can even make sentimental crap sound wonderful, and so I bow to his amazingness. As well as to his once again amazing hair.

TROY: Genius? He turned "Always Be My Baby" to "Always Be My Baby or I Will Stalk You, Kill Your Friends, and Skin You Alive."

TRACY: In your alternate universe of hatred, maybe.

TROY: It was soooo creepy.

TRACY: Hater.

TROY: I can appreciate that he did something completely different with this song, but I'm just not a fan. There is something about Mr. Cook that is just unsettling. The serial killer stare perhaps?

TRACY: You really have to stop ragging on him, because the poor boy's brother has cancer, and he has been quiet about it, refusing to capitalize on that sad fact to garner sympathy votes. You KNOW the musical Kaavya Viswanathan would have been performing in a sandwich board with her unfortunate brother's cancerous photo slapped all over it had she been in poor David's shoes.

Poor David. My heart really goes out to him. Don't ever get cancer, Troy. I mean it. And that goes for Tommy and everyone else in our extended family, too.

TROY: To quote Cordelia Chase: "Morbid, much?"

TRACY: I'm just saying.

I'm not sure why, but I went completely bonkers for JASON CASTRO's "I Don't Want to Cry." Maybe it was the Spanish guitars. Maybe it was because it was a sensitive beta male singing about crying. Maybe it was the fact that Jason actually displayed a confidence I haven't seen in him since he started the show, and for the first time looked like he wanted to win this instead of looking like he'd just been beamed up on stage by Bill and Ted's excellent time machine. But I loved it. Loved, loved, loved it. Wanted to marry it and have its children. I even downloaded it.

TROY: What….?

TRACY: Seriously. I'm listening to it right now and still loving it. And, I have to admit, I started having a wee bit of an inappropriate crush on Mr. Castro. Until I imagined getting my hand irretrievably tangled in his dreadlocks, ripping one out, and dropping it into an unsuspecting bowl of soup. Which quite spoiled the fantasy and killed my inappropriate crush. But for half a minute there, he was kinda hot.

TROY: I'm going to be sick. JASON CASTRO? Jason Castro is dead behind the eyes and can barely form a sentence!

TRACY: I'm sure he's a scintillating wit when he's not smoking courage-in-a-bong.

TROY: Maybe I have to re-watch because I just thought it was aiight. The studio version sounds nice, but I didn't think it was anything remarkable.

TRACY: It was amazing!

TROY: Dread soup, man.

TRACY: Feh.

*****RESULTS******

TRACY: The results are in, and after weeks of wanting Kristy Lee to go home, I totally wanted her to stay and could have happily sheepcrooked Syesha or Brooke off the stage myself. Sadly, that was not meant to be, and she was not meant to get her horse back. Both of which suck.

TROY: You're going soft too! Remember all of the horse jokes you used to make!? I did feel bad for Kristy, but, c'mon, did you actually think she'd win? I think if she finds the right song, she could do well in the country industry. If BUCKY COVINGTON and JOSH GRACIN can find moderately successful singing careers, Kristy should be fine.

One last horse joke for the road?

TRACY: We could tell Kristy Lee "Screw you and the horse you rode in on," but she SOLD it.

OK, it's a repeat, but still funny.

And BTW, why didn't she just put her plane ticket on her AMEX instead of selling the horse if she loved it so? I mean, she lives in OREGON, it's not like tickets to L.A. are going to be the expense equivalent of adopting a kid or buying a penthouse condo in NYC.

Sympathy slowly draining away....

I guess every reality show needs a train wreck and a soporific disaster, and Brooke and Syesha are filling those roles until next week. If any of the other top 6 survivors go before those two, I seriously might just burst something.

TROY: Brooke White: Final Two, America. Don't take her away from me!

TRACY: STOP THAT!!!!

Oh, and before I go, what a SHOCKER to see Mariah Carey in a bandage dress. With cutouts--how elegant. I know she's lost weight and all, but those dresses are still NOT FLATTERING, unless you're a hooker hanging out at the 7-11 truck stop on I-95 north of Toledo. We all know you like bandage dresses. Now maybe one of these days you can show a little bit of imagination and wear something that you can safely bend over in without doing a Britney. I'm just sayin'.

TROY: Mariah will be 80, playing Bingo at the VFW and still wearing the hootchie dresses. I think it's just who she is and the fact that she totally lives in Mariah land.

TRACY: And what is up with the stage hogging and the yammering while pretty much ignoring everything Seacrest is saying to you in a desperate attempt to extend your few seconds of Idol stage time? Note to future guest stars--leave off the drugs before you go on stage, people. No one wants to buy an album from a hot, self-centered mess.

TROY: Apparently they do. Mariah is on track to sell 500,000 copies of her new CD. I don't think Mariah is on drugs…I think she's just naturally high. Afterall, she's all about unicorns, rainbows, and calling people "dahling" or "lamb." She seems pretty intent on pretending to be 25 for the rest of her life. Anyway, I thought she was a good mentor and a decent musical guest. Plus her "Touch My Body" video makes me laugh.

Until next time!

On Books and Booty-Kicking

(cross-posted at IntrigueAuthors.com)
My house is a pit, and I am ignoring it. Not looking. Totally not looking....

So I've been reading Donald Maass's book Writing the Breakout Novel lately. Not because I'm planning to defect from Intrigue and write the Great American Masterpiece. I love Intrigue and plan to write for them until they drag me away kicking and screaming. But I think as writers, we can always get better, and after a friend emphatically recommended Maass's book, I figured couldn't hurt, might help.

As a reader, I found this idea from Maass particularly interesting: He says that what's hot in fiction (and, by extension, romance fiction) often roughly corresponds to the times that we're living in. For example, and I quote:

Judith Krantz ruled the bestseller lists in the 1980s with glitzy fantasies that set female protagonists squarely in positions of wealth and power. Nowadays, women do not feel as empowered. The have-it-all lifestyle has become overwhelming. The gains won by the feminist movement today can seem somewhat hollow.

So who is now on top of the bestseller lists? Mary Higgins Clark. Her portrayal of women as prey (though not, it must be said, as helpless victims) clearly strike women readers as resonant. Clark has caught the mood of our times.

Maass published his book in 2001, but since then, Judith Krantz and similar glitz authors haven't rocketed back to the bestseller lists. Suspense authors and romantic suspense authors are still up there with their heroines-in-jeopardy, along with powerful (and often heartbreakingly sad) fiction from the likes of Jodi Picoult, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Khaled Hosseini. There's a whole mess of self-help and self-improvement books, and heavy memoirs as well. In the romance world, paranormal and erotica rule at the moment.

What does this all mean? In a post-9/11 world, where we in America are fighting two wars and trying not to think too hard about the possibility of another Twin Towers catastrophe, it's interesting that we're reading so much in mainstream fiction and non-fiction that's grounded in a frightening or depressing reality. Maybe we want to be inspired by people overcoming terrible odds or abusive parents or other horrible circumstances to ultimately survive and even triumph.

And while the grimness of some of these books doesn't extend to the romance world, that need for inspiration may also extend to current romance trends. The current popularity of paranormal and erotica definitely speak to our need for escape. But much of that paranormal has a huge helping of danger and suspense added to it, as does the straight-up romantic suspense the Intrigue authors specialize in. So how are women-in-jeopardy books that we all end up writing/reading in some form or another speaking to the mood of our times?

Our heroines definitely do not start out having it all, especially in suspense. In both paranormal and straight suspense, there's a huge set of obstacles to overcome, although thanks to the genre conventions, we're assured of that happy ending that means the obstacle will be overcome. And in the end, women do have it all, and they balance it all beautifully, of course.

I know how these books speak to me. I'm deeply grateful for the gains of the feminist movement (and still gaining!), but I agree with Maass that it's sometimes difficult to have it all. I'm the mother of two preschoolers with a full-time job, AND I'm trying to keep a fiction writing career going. Most days, I feel like my head is going to explode. But I try not to let that happen, because YOU KNOW who would end up cleaning that mess up....

So I keep on, and I keep making changes to my crazy balancing act to maximize time with my daughters and carve out a little writing time, too. In light of what Maass has to say, it's interesting that what I gravitate to again and again are stories with heroines who kick some major booty. The hardship is there, but the heroine in my favorite stories always kicks, punches, shoots, and verbally decimates her way out. Or, as is often the case in my Intrigues, she may not start out being able to do so, but in the end, she's more than a match for whatever gets in her way.

Lately, I've been loving Jeffrey Deaver's latest books, both his Lincoln Rhyme series, and his new Kathryn Dance series. Both feature women in law enforcement--one with an amazing eye for crime scene details that others miss, the other with an almost preternatural ability to read people's microexpressions and gestures so she can tell when they're lying to her. I adored Sarah Addison Allen's Garden Spells, featuring two sisters with what their Southern small town tries to dismiss as peculiar quirks: One can influence people's moods and behavior through her cooking, and the other can cut hair so well, it makes the person look twice as pretty as she had before. And Christi Phillip's The Rossetti Letter pulled me into 17th century and modern-day Venice, where I watched a brilliant literature student piece together a story of 17th century Venetian intrigue that had eluded many scholars before her with her sharp mind and a few well-chosen books.

So what does that say about me? I think it's obvious: Heck, yes, I want to be Superwoman!

What have you read lately that you've loved (every Intrigue ever written aside, of course!)? And what do you think your reading habits say about you?

American Idol: Top 8 Recap

TRACY: This week, American Idol was all about songs that inspire. And I so wasn't. Were you inspired, Troy?

TROY: Ridiculously inspired.… only not. And how does one pick a song that truly INSPIRES them? I'd pick "Umbrella." Just 'cause.

TRACY: MICHAEL JOHNS kicked off the show (or, at least, I think he did. It's all a horrible, uninspiring jumble) with Aerosmith's "Dream On." It started out really nice, but judging from past performances, I knew we were in trouble as soon as he got to the higher notes. And yes, Mr. Johns turned a lovely shade of purple and started really straining for those notes, before launching into a disastrous falsetto that I am convinced probably shattered every windshield in the American Idol parking lot. He has been so fabulous for the past couple of weeks, but this week, I was left with a big ol' case of the mehs again.

TROY: Well "Dream On" was the death sentence for another music reality show contestant (Hi, Jordis!) and it looks like it claimed another. Dude, Michael … what was that travesty? I've been really impressed with him the last few weeks. Remember when we couldn't even be bothered to write about him? He went from unmemorable to one of my favorites. What happened this week? I feel inspired to give him a Tyra-induced ass kicking.

And the tantrum about how "Dream On" is about dreaaams and that you dreaaammeed about making it in America was ridiculous, Mr. Johns. Shape up.

TRACY: Oh, and here's some more advice, dude: If you're going to try to rock out to Aerosmith, you really must not wear a jaunty little cravat. Aerosmith + jaunty little cravat = hot mess of the week.

TROY: I'm saving my hot mess award, thank you.

TRACY: Someone else who has been fabulous for the past couple of weeks and just TANKED this week was CARLY SMITHSON. First of all, the only thing a song like "The Show Must Go On" could inspire me to do is throw myself under a bus. Depressing much?

TROY: In case you forget, the SHOW MUST GO ON. To make sure of it, Carly will bug out her eyes and start shrieking, scaring animals and small children. Whose idea was it to pick this song? Carly might has well come out singing "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" while the last 10 minutes of Old Yeller played in the background. Definitely one of the strangest song choices of the season.

TRACY: Second, could someone please soften up homegirl's makeup? Those goth, heavily-lined eyes and that severe, pale lipstick don't really help when her expressions while she sings invariably fall somewhere between furious and ready-to-jump-in-the-mosh-pit-and-kill-someone-with-an-icepick.

TROY: Word.

TRACY: So, not-so-inspiring song choice and female-serial-killer stage presence. And while I am convinced that Randy Jackson falls asleep during most of the performances and then wakes up only to declare the majority "pitchy" on a mere whim, she was totally pitchy. In fact, she pitchied the hell out of that song. What happened to solid-as-a-rock Carly?

And will she ever put on a pair of sleeves? Just once, I would like to not hear my husband Jose complaining about her, quote, "butt-ugly tattoo" the entire time.

TROY: She has to show how "edgy" she is. Whatever.

TRACY: Was it just me, or did JASON CASTRO look muy bizarro sitting on that stool hunched over his Very Tiny Ukelele? But if you got over that (and the dreadlocks--always the dreadlocks), the song was a'ight. I like Israel Kamawakawhatever's version of "Over the Rainbow"--so much so that when I discovered it wasn't on the "50 First Dates" soundtrack, I downloaded it separately from iTunes and burned them together the way it SHOULD have been. Like Michael Johns and his Queen medley, Jason didn't color outside the lines either with this one, but it was sweet and suited his voice. I have NO idea why the judges went nuts for him this week and not last week. Perhaps it's inversely proportional to the amount of weed he's smoked prior to the performance? And whether he's shared said weed with Paula or not?

TROY: I heard an audio only version of this performance and I thought it was lame. All of the judges must have been sharing what Jason was smoking. I feel that, once you get past the guitar, his voice is really thin and quite nasally. Plus, the kid has ZERO stage presence (Vacant stare! Social Awkwardness! The dreads!). I'm not quite getting the appeal (outside of the obvious 420).

TRACY: What is 420? I feel suddenly old and unhip.

Speaking of unhip, I can barely bring myself to type about the catastrophe that was DAVID COOK. Seven straight weeks of pure vocal brilliance, and he sings like THAT for inspiration week? Does he have something against Africa? What the heck?

TROY: What was that mess on his hand? "Give back." HORK! We all know I'm not a big David Cook supporter and so this week really set me off. And again with the talking back to the judges. Sigh.

TRACY: I didn't hear any talking back to the judges! The hair looked fab, though. (Bless you, Idol Stylist.) And unlike Simon, I was totally down with the white jacket. I am just going to remember the hair and jacket and pretend the song didn't happen while I wait for him to be great again next week.

TROY: Unless America wakes up and sends him packing!

TRACY: Shhhhhh!

OK, what was up with SYESHA MERCADO singing Fantasia's "I Believe?" That song is suckTASTic, and the ONLY reason it ever worked was because Fantasia sang the snot out of it. Does Syesha really think she can compete with Fantasia, the woman who was born to show the world how to testify to the Lord in song?

First it's Whitney, Whitney, Whitney, and then Fantasia. I can't work with this anymore, Troy. I'm done. I'm totally done with this girl, fabulous hair or no fabulous hair. I think she needs to go. Because as Entertainment Weekly pointed out, it's either a HUGE case of hubris or a horrifying lack of imagination that's driving her song choices, and I don't think it's ever going to stop.

TROY: I think Syesha has Whittasia Careyitis. She clearly has an addiction for going for songs that are way beyond her current level of talent and vocal gravitas. The judges tell her every week that she needs to stop trying to be Whitney Houston, but it's just not getting through that head of hers (great hair or not). This girl needs to be sent to musical rehab to cure her of this illness that she clearly cannot rid herself of. Be gone, imposter!

TRACY: Jose and I gave KRISTY LEE COOK some huge props last Tuesday night. Her "Anyway" was pretty AND pretty much on key (Randy's dumbass "pitchy" proclamation notwithstanding.) I finally saw the talent that made the judges put her through to the semi-finals. Good for her! She's a (cage) fighter, and I'm starting to really respect that. She deserves another week, if only because SHE didn't try to sing Fantasia.

TROY: I shockingly agree. Krusty is really turning things around for herself and starting to be likeable. She's pretty humble, takes her criticism like a champ, and smartly chooses her songs (the horrifying "Eight Days a Week" aside). I'm not lobbying for a Kristy win, but I'd rather see her succeed than other contestants with a fake sunny disposition and manic grin (Hi, Brooke White!).

TRACY: I liked DAVID ARCHULETA's "Angels" well enough, but it wasn't exactly the most memorable performance he's given. I'm not sure why the judges went so nuts for it--on a David scale, it was a solid 6 rainbow gummy bears out of 10.

TROY: And I'll give him 7 happy star unicorns. It was another "look at me – I'm so EARNEST" David Archuleta performance, but it was a'ight. His vocals were good, but I'm just increasingly bored by him each week. He has the votes, so I'd like to see him try something different one week. This could have been the perfect week for "Umbrella" ella.

TRACY: You know, THAT would have been interesting! Although I'm not sure what you find so inspiring about standing under someone's umbrella (ella, ella, hey, hey, hey).

Oh, and we closed the show with BROOKE WHITE, and I can't figure out for the life of me why. The song choice was cloying, the performance just shy of terrible. And she must've been reading the blogs that called her out for the manic grin in the middle of "Jolene," because she really went overboard trying to look Very, Very Serious all throughout her song. There she was, forehead all wrinkled with concern, eyes slightly squiinted, body hunched over the mike. It looked like she was singing "You've Got a Friend ... with Cancer."

TROY: I just realized that Brooke's version of "Jolene" would have been a lot more interesting had she switched the name "Jolene" for "Jolie." Just imagine it – it makes the song 10x much more enjoyable.

TRACY: Ha! And switched out Jennifer Aniston for Brooke. That is totally evil.

TROY: Anyway … I really don't want Brooke White as a friend after this performance. I'm terrified that she would just passive aggressively scold me and manically wave her hands. There is something so incredibly unhinged about her. I hope she continues to be put in the bottom two each week, just so my cold little heart can be warmed with the joy of seeing a new Brooke White meltdown. Okay? OkayOkayOkayOkay!?

TRACY: :::snort::: Cute dress, though.

TROY: (Here comes the sun…)

TRACY: (Doo-doot-doo-doot.)

TROY: Before I forget, I'd like to award HOT MESS OF THE WEEK to….Teri Hatcher! Didn't this woman used to do Broadway? Her shaky performance of "Before He Cheats" was just…bizarre. I know it's for charity, but I feel like people would have paid more to NOT hear that voice.

TRACY: WHAT?!?!?! That wasn't a JOKE? She actually believes she can sing? I thought she was just being cute. If she was on Broadway, then she really was the Hot Mess of the Week. Wow. I'm ... I'm totally speechless.

Since I wrote most of this last Wednesday morning and SOMEONE wasn't able to fulfill his end of the snark bargain before I left for a work thing in Seattle on Friday morning, I'm going to have to talk about the results show in the past tense, since it's waaaaaay in the past. Last week as I wrote this, I predicted Syesha would go, though I figured there would be at least one person in the bottom three whom we loved.

TROY: I also thought Syesha would go with her boring performance that would never compare to the original Fantasia song. I also thought the bottom 3 would have everybody's favorite manic and David Cook for shock value.

TRACY: I was hoping for Brooke White, but I figured she wouldn't be there. The musical Kaavya Viswanathan is still riding on her Pat Benatar acoustic mimicry.

TROY: Instead, my favorite, most improved contestant left: Michael Johns. THE CURSE OF "DREAM ON" LIVES! Beware all ye who attempt to hit those high falsettos. Ye shall enter the depths of thy reality show obscurity.

I'm pretty devastated by this development. I finally pick a contestant to root for and he is kicked off. Bleak. Well, if I am cursed and the person I root for is kicked off then I say….gooooo Brooke!

TRACY: Yaaarrrgggghh! Please, no. Anyone but that.

Independent Women (Throw Your Hands Up At Me)

So my car and I limped into the dealership this morning with two nearly flat tires and an alleged transmission fluid leak, and I spent half the day waiting for repairs and getting nothing done. Ugh.

Long story short, during my last oil change, the dudes at a Certain Oil Change Chain (*cough*Texaco*cough*) tried to get me to pay $100 or so because my transmission fluid was low. I'm not the greatest with cars, but I tend to have a decent idea about what's going on with mine, and I thought that sounded crazy. So I politely declined and decided to take it to the dealer. It's still under warranty, so the dealer wasn't going to try to sell me a transmission repair if one wasn't needed, because it would have been free. Anyhoo, the transmission was fine, and the oil change guys were just trying to squeeze another bit of cash out of a gullible woman driver.

Jerks.

Women are often socialized to always be polite, to trust authority figures or experts, to never shout or get REALLY angry in public. And sometimes, particularly at unscrupulous Oil Change Chains (*cough*Texaco*cough*), the mere idea that women are less likely to challenge authority or get all up in one's face backfires on us. (Which may be why I love writing for Intrigue so much--you can't push an Intrigue heroine around.)

Fortunately, I didn't fall for the chain's dastardly schemes. And if I ever go back to that accursed Oil Change Chain, I am totally going all ajuma on them. What's an ajuma? Let me explain....

Not too long ago, I lived in Seoul, Korea for two years with my Naval officer husband (or former Naval officer--he just retired after 20 years on March 1--WHOO!). I loved the experience (although I hated the fact that I was a complete brick about learning the language), and what I found really fascinating were the cultural differences. (Lest you think I'm stereotyping, these were all corroborated by Korean friends AND by a book I read by a Korean called Culture Shock Korea):

It's rude in Korea to use your left hand to give something to someone else. Rather like Regency-period Europe, it's rude to just start talking to someone (who is not providing customer service) unless you have been properly introduced by a third party. (This is not an iron-clad rule, especially among young people. But it is present.) It's not really considered rude to stare.

And it's rude to be really loud or overtly emotional in public. Of course, it happens--remember when those two men in the Korean Senate were in the news because they started WRESTLING in the middle of the Senate floor? But I could go on the subway or sit in a coffee shop or go to a store, and I rarely ran into someone who was yakking so loud on their cell phone, they seemed to be shouting inside my head.

This was particularly true with the women--younger women were especially soft-spoken and generally extremely polite. They are extremely careful with their diets--the average Korean woman is a size two, I read in a local Seoul magazine. My beautiful and toned hairdresser in Seoul told me her friends tell her she's fat--and she's all of a size six. On Korean Air, we noticed that this was all carried to an extreme: the female flight attendants had their hair pulled back the same way, were roughly the same (size two) weight, and wore heeled shoes of varying heights, so they all ended up being roughly the same height, with very similar makeup. It was like riding on Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" plane, but in Korea.

But then, around age 50 or 60, many Korean women apparently say to heck with all that and become what is known as an "ajuma" (ah-juh-ma). Technically, the word means elder or married woman. But according to several Seoul residents I met, it's gotten a slightly pejorative connotation in Korea that unfortunately makes it more akin to "crazy old bag." Once a woman has decided she's entered the age of the ajuma, she often cuts her hair short and perms it (A phenomenon one Korean website describes as sending the message that "I am married; please don't try to pick me up."), dresses in horrible polyester pants, gains weight. And then comes the attitude--ajumas will bust in front of you in line without a backward glance. They will literally shove you out of their way. They will get in your face if they think you have an opinion or a mannerism that needs changing. They are not quiet and soft-spoken, and they are not gentle and nurturing. They are women, hear them roar.

They're fabulous. I loved the gentle, soft-spoken women I befriended in Korea, but I also secretly loved that in a few years, they'd go all ajuma and become strong, outspoken, and magnificent. (And yes, I met some younger women who were already strong and outspoken, but were perm-free. I'm talking patterns here--not absolutes.)

That's not to say that I never ended up on the wrong end of an ajuma. We had one as a landlady our first year there, and she would literally peer into my windows to see how high I'd turned up the thermostat in the winter. If it was too high, she'd barge in and turn it down--or lecture me about turning it down, complete with grand gestures because my Korean sucked. And occasionally, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and would end up shoved against a wall while an ajuma barreled by.

But all in all, the ajumas gave me great joy. My grandmother on my dad's side has always had a bit of ajuma about her. A couple of years ago, she got a speeding ticket, and instead of just mailing in the payment, she showed up at the police station and told her to just put her in jail until they considered her debt to society paid. The police officer on duty ended up spending the better part of his day begging her to just pay the thing, because he really didn't want to put a nearly 90-year-old woman in jail. She tells this story often and with a considerable amount of glee. I have no doubt that she didn't intend to spend one minute in jail--she just wanted to see if she could get out of paying the ticket. And, I think, she might have been a little bored that day and just wanted to mess with someone.

OK, it's not about writing or reading Intrigues, really, but this all has been on my mind lately. Hope you don't mind the randomness.

Anyone get in touch with their inner ajuma lately?