Janky Squared

A good friend just sent me this... janky within and about janky! Ice cube and young Jeezy! (who is that?) Are these men janky at promoting, or promoters of janky? Will this film be appropriately horrible? Hopefully, I will never find out!

Window Blinds

As window treatments go, I'm not totally against the aesthetic of blinds. In these modern times, you can get newer and better versions of them, they're good for privacy at the flick of a wrist, and I've seen plenty of blinds that I did not think were all that awful looking. However, a good 99% of the time they are a royal pain, and then I hate them. I suspect it has to do with the ancientness of my dwellings.

My number one complaint about blinds is that they absolutely never pull evenly. I am forever having it happen where one side pulls up more than the other, and then I have to figure out which string I'm supposed to pull more, and then the other side cinches faster, and then it gets stuck like that, and after 15 more minutes you just give up and pull them all the way up because it's the only way to even them out. So awkward.

Possibly worse than this is the daunting task of letting them back down again. You always have to pull the string out and make a giant arc with your arm and/or whole body to bring the string to the other side, where it's supposed to release the blinds. It doesn't at first try, so you have to do this six more times. At that point, they come crashing down and get all bungled, or they come down one side at a time, the way they went up. Or they don't come down at all, and you have to literally pull on the bottom of them and move them down at the same time you release the string.

The strings are always really way longer than they need to be. They dangle on the ground. They get in knots which are impossible to take out again. Animals and small children always play with them, and could choke and die. Or they collect dust and you don't want to touch them.

The blinds themselves collect dust and look awful after a while. Also, somehow a few of them get bent and look completely awful. Usually when you're twisting them open and shut, a few of them do not move in sync with the rest or them so you have to go through and set those ones like all the others.

One time it happened that I was pulling on the string, and the whole hoisting system, the whole thing keeping those blinds up, came flying out of the window and crashed to the ground. I avoid blinds whenever I can.

Store-Bought Fudgsicles

For good awhile, Fudgsicles seemed like the perfect solution to my daily chocolate fix. They're low in calories, contain negligible amounts of fat and, theoretically, can be a refreshing end to dinner at home or a guilt-free late-night snack. I bought them regularly (which is embarrassing). But I have terrible chocolate cravings. If I could, I'd live off of cake, cupcakes and candy bars. So in an effort to keep my cravings at bay, Fudgsicles, with their reassuring Nutrition Facts label, became a regular part of my diet. More strangely, I didn't even really care what they tasted like. It was chocolate (sort of). As long as I wasn't spooning M&M's into my mouth.

After a few weeks of this routine, however, I started to pay more attention to what I ate. Admittedly, it was a delayed reaction, but I wondered how these things only had 60 calories and 1.5 grams of fat. The answer, of course, is: water, sugar and a buttload of 20-letter chemicals.

Here's how a typical Fudgesicle experience progresses:

Once you remove the plastic wrapper, you get a noseful of that synthetic frosty mist -- it's like a high-school chem lab with a faint whiff of Hershey's Park.

The actual act of eating a Fudgsicle is fairly uneventful. It's just a numb, vaguely chocolate-foodstuff sensation, not worth paying much attention to. Fudgsicles aren't the kind of dessert that you sit and savor anyway. You're most likely watching TV, on the Internet or reading a magazine while eating one.

And then: the aftertaste. It begins seconds after you've deposited the wooden stick. Your mouth is sticky; your saliva, thick and phlegmy. No matter how much water you drink or how intensely you brush your teeth, your breath still smells like metal and watered-down Nesquick.

After this happened many, many times, I ultimately developed visceral physical and psychological reactions to Fudgsicles. Today the mere thought prompts my stomach to churn, my throat to tighten and my head to spin.

The reason Fudgsicles made this list, more so than other chemical-laden snacky foods, is because it's a product that's meant to please but falls way, way short of succeeding. People have created tasty low-calorie, low-fat potato chips, crackers, doughnuts, ice cream sandwiches and cookies that don't leave you feeling like you've just mowed down the Periodic Table in one sitting. A better product is possible.

In fact, this afternoon, in preparation for this post, I forced myself to try the Fudgsicle-flavored sorbet at the Humphry Slocombe ice creamery in San Francisco. It was superb, cheap and they make huge bins of it each week.

Eat it, Popsicle brand!

Gazing Balls

Now that it's summer and I get outside more often, I have turned my hypercritical sights to the great outdoors. Lo and behold, there is great jankery in America's backyard! I must address it.

This is called a "gazing ball" or globe:

I can remember hating these at first sight, whenever that was.

I guess the point of a gazing ball is that the spherical and metallic surface reflects the garden for our viewing pleasure. I don't know about you, but I can see the garden from my vantage point at 5'8", I am not about to lean my ass down to peer at a metal ball for the purpose of seeing my garden warped and fisheyed. Plus, usually they are some kind of bright unnatural color, all the worse for reflective purposes.

There are all manner of stands and pedestals for the ball to sit on top of. Most of them are ugly. Here is a particularly puketastic fairy and mushroom one that M. White found:

Everyone has their own aesthetic when it comes to gardening. Since I am not a homeowner, mine is called: "ignore whatever is growing outside my apartment". However, if I did have a garden, my preference would not be to overload it with kitschy lawn ornaments. I would especially not throw in a few of these gazing balls. And why does it seem that every garden in which I have seen one or more these things is half-dead unkempt weedy mess on top of it all? More likely than not they will have added a few stone animals, fairies, and a bird bath or two... an unfair assault on our eyes!

"Kendra" Intro

Full disclosure: I watch lots of trashy television. And I have a pretty high tolerance for crappy editing, cheesy theme songs, low-budget sets -- you name it.

Perhaps a month or so ago, the E! Channel debuted one of its summer television shows, "Kendra." As a huge fan of "The Girls Next Door" -- the reality show that followed Hugh Hefner and his trio of girlfriends, Holly, Bridget and Kendra -- I immediately set my DVR. Though I was always a Bridget girl (she found time to balance elaborate party planning and extension school at UCLA for broadcast journalism!), I agree that the smart money is on Kendra for a spin-off. She's energetic, young and completely uninhibited.

The premise of the show is this: Kendra is now out of the mansion and living with her boyfriend, Philadelphia Eagles wide receiver Hank Baskett. I've only seen the first two episodes, but so far she: bought a lovely brick home in the Los Angeles area, installed a stripper pole in the living room, threw a raucous housewarming party, visited Baskett's family in New Mexico and participated in a charity basketball game. Pretty typical stuff, if you watched "The Girls Next Door."

Here's what the problem is: the intro. I know I've griped about the "American Idol" intro before, with its low-budg' graphics and synthed theme song (especially for a show that's all about singing and musical talent). But this may be worse. It's campy, but not good campy. You get the impression that Kendra and others at E! actually thought this would be a respectable intro. Sure, she hams it up, as usual, but there's something about it that takes itself more seriously than you'd think. When I was mulling this over with Sylvia the other day, she also made an excellent observation: whether E! and Kendra intended to, it's kind of like a crappy homage to the television intros of the late 80s and 90s.

Sylvia: It's just, like, such a person-points-at-the-boxed-picture-to-the-left intro. Like, "Look! We're interacting with the graphics!"

Or maybe it's the intro song, which couldn't have taken more than 18 seconds to compose but is performed with such enthusiasm and pomp that I feel kind of bad for poking fun. Sample lyrics:

It's just another chapter in life

Bought a new house

After tonight

No butlers and no maids

You gotta do you own thing your way

Go Kendra

Go Kendra

Go Kendra

Go Kendra

You on your own now

See for yourself:

Nail Polish Bottles

The nail polish bottle situation is mind-blowing to me. My complaint is simple: why doesn't the brush reach to the bottom of the bottle?

Why has no-one improved on this yet? Every so often, inevitably, I will have used up most of a color, and i am presented with the annoying situation where I can't just remove the brush and paint, I have to tip it nearly all the way over get my brush in there, and then save it from spilling out and making a mess all over the place.

How hard would it be to add another centimeter to the brush length?

Next up: Nail Polish Is Annoying When it Gets Gooey.

Honeydew Melon, Grape and Cantaloupe Salad

Here's the scene: You're in a grocery store. Or a second-rate coffeeshop. Or an airport food court. You're faced with a challenge: get something healthy, cool and refreshing. But options are limited. All you can find is a plastic container -- a cup, or perhaps a square-shaped package -- filled with honeydew melon, cantaloupe, red grapes and -- if you're lucky -- pineapple chunks, strawberries or blackberries. (But only one of the latter. Never all three.)  

You've had these salads several times before, only to find them to be wholly unsatisfying. But there's nothing else in the store or the coffeeshop or the airport food court. So you suck it up, pay the $4.50 for 83 cents' worth of fruit and think to yourself, This time will be better.

Is it? No. Never. You spear a piece of honeydew melon with your plastic fork and reality hits: this will always be the same day-old, borderline tasteless fruit salad. More often that not, you'll get a couple of deflated, sour grapes. Some of the cantaloupe pieces will be hard. Others will be melty and watery. And if you have pineapple, it'll cut up your mouth and leave an unpleasant, tart aftertaste. 

Maybe you'll make it halfway through before tossing out the rest and regretting not buying the flash-frozen bagel with rock-hard cream cheese instead. In any case, you still won't learn your lesson. This won't be your last fruit salad. 

Walgreens

My first time inside a Walgreens was during the spring of 2007. Though it was located along the tony Magnificent Mile in downtown Chicago, the store was decrepit, dingy and disheveled.

I was in search of Neutrogena's passionfruit lip balm at the time, and while making my way to the makeup wall at the back of the store, I found myself bumping into, squeezing past and literally stepping on the toes of other shoppers. Every aisle in the store was less than four feet across. And when it came time to check out, there was a line no longer than five people. Yet, I had no choice but to stand in the middle of the most heavily-trafficked area toward the front. Those of us waiting in line were blocking others from smoothly navigating one aisle to the next. And there was very little we could do about it.

I grew up on the East Coast, in a region where CVS is the most popular drug store. Since living Chicago, I've moved to San Francisco, where there's a Walgreens on every block and nary a CVS around. (Yes, we have Longs Drugs here -- which is operated by CVS -- but it's not the same.)

The greatest difference between the two drug store is aesthetics. While CVS is bright, airy and clean, Walgreens routinely feels stale, dank and haphazard. Though I can only editorialize on the two stores based on my own experience, I think I've observed enough to put together a decent opposition chart:

COLORS

CVS: The brand color is a vibrant primary red. All of the signage, employee uniforms and decor look polished, put-together and cheery. Employees look alert and are easy to find. You'll occasionally find them wearing a mixture of baby blue and red, which is also professional and clean-looking. 

Walgreens: The brand color is dark blue. The logo is red and white, but the interior signs and the employee uniforms are dark blue. It's not upbeat, it's not eye-catching and it contributes to the dumpy, soporific store aura. 

GROCERY

CVS: Wide selection of food and drinks. In other words, you get more than one option per item. It won't be as generous as shopping at a supermarket, but you could make a respectable meal from what's offered here. 

Walgreens: Mostly carries one brand per item. I had no choice but to go there once for jam. The only option? A big plastic jug of Welch's grape jelly. Unless your diet consists of nothing more than Wonderbread, Heinz ketchup and Funyons, don't even bother. Dairy foods are out of the question. 

LAYOUT

CVS: Wide aisles with low shelving. At the front of the store, there's almost always a good 10 feet of space between the cash registers and the shopping aisles. This means people can wait in line while others shop seamlessly behind them.

Walgreens: Narrow, cramped aisles with shelving that stretches toward the ceiling. Heaven forbid you need anything located on the top level -- you'll need an employee who, in turn, will need a step ladder. Almost no space between the registers and the other aisles, meaning you'll always be stepping in and out of place to make room for your fellow shoppers.

SECURITY

CVS: Your typical "high-end" ware (designer perfumes, electronics) are stored behind clear, locked cabinets. They are either sensibly located behind the counter or well-positioned along a spacious wall. Employees always have keys on them.

Walgreens: Instead of placing some of the more expensive items behind locked shelving, it often feels like Walgreens puts anything with a value greater than $5 behind lock and key. My local store has shower gel and body wash locked. Sixteen-ounce plastic bottles of, like, Olay Body Wash for $6.99 require employee assistance. Employees never have keys on them. And the plastic security shelving is always cracked, beaten-up and yellowing. 

SIGNAGE

CVS: Again, when promoting sales and special offers, you'll find bright red signs with white lettering. Simple, clear, basic. The signs always look like they were designed by, you know, an actual graphic designer somewhere at CVS Corporate. 

Walgreens: Here, you'll find deals promoted on flimsy yellow one-sheets with black type and unbelievably rudimentary design. They look like Joe Schmo rigged them up on his computer in the back room, using Microsoft Word. (Also, note the superior math skills displayed on this particular sign. Three for $2, or 59 cents each. Are we rounding up now? Walgreens can't even do sales correctly!) 

Photo credits: mr.checkout.net, phillips.blogs.com and jbaltz.com.

DVD Menus

In her introductory post to this blog, M. White mentioned that sometimes janky is when you look at something and you’re just like, “Really? No-one could have made this a little better?” This is precisely the way I feel about DVD menus.

When you think about it, the Menu of a DVD is kind of like the cover of a book (yes I know DVDs have real covers too) I really feel that the menu should be in keeping with the style of the movie. Is the movie subtle? The menu should be understated. Is the movie a showboat of impressive visual effect or direction? Then for god’s sake put some effort into that one screen! After all, who among us hasn’t finished the flick and accidentally left the menu running for 30 minutes? It’s going to be seen and it deserves some better attention from movie…making… people.

Before I get into it, I want to exhibit what I think is a good menu, and which only helps prove that this movie is like, the best evarrr (warning, all of the screenshots in this post are awful):


But seriously, this is pretty good. This is exactly what I’m talking about with my book cover analogy. These artist drawings are all over the Wes Anderson movies, it’s like an extra treat to see the art as the menu. I especially, especially appreciate the incorporation of the hand lettering

Moving on to the bad.

The first movies to make it out on DVD probably had the worst menus. At first I was going to forgive this but then I was like, you know what? I can’t blame the tools you know? Some bozo somewhere actually passed approval on this jank. Behold:




It’s especially unforgivable when they take an old classic, and completely remove it from it’s proper retro style by crapping all over it in the 90s way:


The following are just wayyyyy too busy. I didn’t post video, but they have about 8 moving parts all going on on one screen. Too much, too much:




Even everyone’s favorite movies can have very lackluster menus:



The rest are just bad. Note how the movie title is always slapped on there in some awkward spot, all logo-style. Hate.




Now you’re all aware. And questioning my taste in films no doubt.

Kelly Bensimon's Breasts

Kelly Bensimon of the Real Housewives of New York City may not have the worst boob job of all time, but I don't know if I have ever seen two mammaries who hated each other more. They hate each other more than everyone hates Kelly. They might not ever reconcile.

I fail to understand if you are sporting one of these unfortunate unraveling breast structures, (I'm talking to you, Tori Spelling) why you would still put your chest on display in this manner. Surely there is a better way to situate them. Wear a bra? Wear something that covers that region a little more? A dress that wrangles them closer together? Why this acreage of sternum assaulting our eyes, Kelly? We all know you have the money to fix this!

Wedge Sandals

A friend and I saw "Duplicity" in the theater last night. Julia Roberts wears a lot of charming dresses in that movie, but at one point I noticed she was wearing the biggest cardinal sin a woman can commit: the &!%#@ wedge heel. True, her pair wasn't as offensive as others I've seen -- go mid-heel espadrille or go home -- but it re-ignited my rage over this atrocious phootwear phenomenon.

Look, I get that they're all summery and good for adding height (trust me, I am all about appearing taller), but there are about 895,281 other shoes out there that succeed much better on both of these levels. What most women don't seem to understand is that the wedge heel actually stumps your legs. Instead of elongating them, you wind up looking like a teetering hooker with a five-inch neon-colored Styrofoam growth on your foot. 

The other issue is that you cannot pair them with anything that isn't cheap-looking. My colleague Sylvia recently summed up this up nicely: "They're the shoes porn stars and small-town 'hotties' wear everywhere -- the ones still wearing tracksuits." 

To drive my point home, I'll end with a gallery of some of the worst wedge sandals I could find on the Internet. These are from places millions of women shop at -- Macy's, Nordstrom, Victoria's Secret, Shoes.com -- so beware and stay clear. 

(Photo above is the "Silent" wedge thong from BCBGirls; Nordstrom, $40. The name is fitting, considering that would be the most polite reaction if someone's very good friend said, "Hey, I love these shoes. Do you like them?")

Below is the "Bog Wild" wedge sandal from Aerosoles; Macy's, $70. It's incredible that the folks at Aerosoles chose such a devastatingly accurate name for this shoe. I can't imagine the name alone nets them many sales. And speaking of "net," that's probably the other fine accessory you'd likely be wearing if you were indeed "wild" enough to wade into a bog. 

Next up, the "Sabra Bezel" shoe from Baby Phat; shoes.com, $51. I'm pretty sure this is the line overseen by Kimora Lee "Fabulosity" Simmons, which should be enough background information to explain this perfectly.  

Oof. Back to my point about wedge heels looking like a stumpified extension of your legs: flesh-colored wedge heels will take this to an extreme. Plus, it seems just lazy that someone would make a (somewhat) normal wedge casing and decide, hey, let's bridge the sides together with some fatty straps of elastic. BCBGirls, what do you want from us? BCBGirls "Marvi" wedge sandal; Macy's, $98.

I saw this beauty -- the "Rylee" wedge sandal from Sam Edelman, $170 -- while flipping through the latest Nordstrom catalog. Then I realized that Sam Edelman does nothing but design fugly shoes at exorbitant prices. I realize retailers need a breadth of products to satisfy every taste level, but this is taking things too far. Encouraging young women to frolic around in platform wedges that combine mock-Honduran embroidery, denim and bows is simply shameful. And for nearly $200! Are you outraged yet?

When Sylvia and I first discussed this post, it took about six seconds for her to know exactly what I was talking about. "Like these?" she asked. She sent me a URL. The domain name was "victoriassecret.com." I knew she'd found Mecca. Sure enough, here it is, the wedge heel sandal, in its most basic and egregious form. Bust out the Ed Hardy tees and the toe rings -- we're home. 

Celebrity Perfumes

Celebrities are pumping out scents left and right. It started with J.Lo and it certainly won't end with Halle Berry, whose product I just observed in the pages of Cosmo. It's lame enough that stars are slapping their names on these odors, sometimes even claiming to have invented them...but I really can't deal with what the final products look like! Do they want to sell it to me or to a toddler? Check out Britney Spears' little assembly of treats:

This is the type of crap I can get with a quarter in the machine next to the gumballs. In fact, the pink one even looks like a gumball! I'm not going to pay $50 for a gumball! And neither are my five-year-old friends.

By the way, I hear Avril Lavigne is threatening to foist a new stink on the public, what kind of hot mess do you suppose they'll come up with for that one? It's already ugly.

American Idol: Intro Graphics

Look, all I'm saying is that a show that can afford to pay its star judge $36 million a year and consistently obliterates all other television programs in Nielsen ratings can probably afford a better opener.

You know those hokey commercials for computer and video game-design schools with the clunky Avatars and 1993-reminiscent 3D animation? That's akin to the work some folks at Fox decided to air as the intro to their midweek juggernaut.

I appreciate that American Idol chose to do something different from other reality show openers, which feature cheesy video clips or photos of each contestants with his or her name emblazoned across the screen. (Think "Real World," "Making the Band," "America's Next Top Model," etc.) But the incumbent intro is so faceless. It's all big cheese credits and little recognition of the talent that appears on-stage and on-screen. Yeah, we get to see weird, pixelated flahbacks of past (ahem, noteworthy) winners but, again, it doesn't have much to do with the people we're about to watch for the next hour or two.

Simply put, the American Idol intro is hard to relate to, it doesn't succeed in giving us that "sold-out mega concert" feel and, in the words of its own Simon Cowell, the aesthetics are completely forgettable.

Note: I'm not going to tackle the theme song. While I'm not its biggest fan, either, those twangy, synthetic notes are so synonymous with the show that it's probably one of the few things -- including the logo, Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul and Ryan Seacrest -- that remain untouchable at this point. 

Verizon Fios

If it's broke ... we'll let you know.

Let's face it: it's a hot mess out there. You can't walk into someone's home, a mall, a restaurant -- you name it -- without spotting something (or, let's be frank, someone) that doesn't look right. Maybe it's cheap. Maybe it's old (but not in a charming way). Maybe it doesn't function the way it should. Maybe it's something that can be improved with such little effort that you can't understand why someone hasn't fixed it yet and you wish you could slap it.

That's why we started Certified Janky: to slap our seal of Janky approval on anything we come across that triggers our Jank-dar. We've wasted far too many hours discussing the less-than-fine things in life not to share our observations. 

And if you're so out of touch that you don't even know what "janky" means, well, that's pretty janked. Take it from us, your experts in Jankitude: the word applies to all things unacceptable. It's as simple as that. Use it, love it, honor it.

Hugs 'n' kisses,

Sylvia and M. White

P.S. Eager to give something the Janky Stamp? Leave a comment. We'll discuss your idea and if we feel it meets our Janky Criteria (which we'll publish soon), we'll share your brilliant find.