Stizzosa

2008-03-05T09:24:00.002-05:00

Well. Upon digging through unnamed "drafts" leftover in my Yahoo account, I came across the below "Year End Recap" which I apparently a) wrote while drunk because I do not remember it and 2) is pretty freakin funny.

I give it to you here, unfinished and only marginally spellchecked.

******

Knowing that I have to tackle this entire year makes me feel like I have been given the task of eating an entire tiramisu. Which, while entirely doable by the likes of me, still makes one a little more than uneasy that perhaps one might become violently ill.

No matter.
Let us.

January:

Anna Nicole Smith deathwatch '07 kind of gets us all going. We're in a TMZ sort of mood, and the psychotic ramblings of an overused blonde with implants never tire. Britney had just ended the year with a nap at Pure in LV, and some sought her comeback in that adorable way she wore entire sweaters, without pants, (and nothing else, you see.) and other such class moves. Lost was back, and our nation turns our hungry eyes to Sawyer.

Yes. January filled a country with a certain kind of hope.

Until..

February.

And half the world texts the other half of the world that Anna Nicole = dead. It was ridiculous. People were in the kind of disbelief residents of the 1960s reserved for Moon landings. As if that fiasco weren't fucking enough...

The head shaving. Need I elucidate? Before that even occured, she traded outfits with a Go-Go Dancer (as I try to ignore the fact that straight clubs actually have said artists).
BESIDES the fact that this month was dominated with news on the how when and why of Anna's Death, and the BabyDaddy trials...

Jesus!

Now, let me go out on a limb here and name February 2007 the most sensational month EVER!! I'll admit, thinking back on flipping on the news at 2am and seeing...live....footage...of...bald...Britney...
Think about it! BALD!
It fills a body with a certain tingle! "Where were YOU when she almost walked into traffic!" our kids will ask!
**note, it is at this time I went to PerezHilton to relive those carefree skin head days, and got sucked in for 30 minutes. Excuse a lady while she fixes a sandwich and recharges, as we havnt even BEGUN this month yet...

Ok.

AND THEN!
The hair was put up for sale on Ebay!
AND!
Tom Brady knocks up his old ol lady! Not the biggest, but I'm pretty sure men worldwide were privy to gossip news for the first time in 200 years. A football player who fucks a supermodel, and impregnates someone who looks like she could be a supermodel. I'm pretty sure I heard a slow-clap start for Tom sometime around Valentine's Day.

Also. That whore from American Idol. She's naked? or something? Is that show even about singing?

Somewhere between the immovable forhead of Paula and the unsettling chest hair of Simon lies a program about talent, right?

Anyway.
Oh yeah, the Oscars happened sometime around then also. I am only reminded because American idol somehow penetrated that holy orifice as well.
Congrats, Jenny Hudson! Haven't seen you since. Tell Eddie his brother is funnier.

March.

Let me begin March by saying: K-Fed was still Mr Spears at this point? They hadn't been separated for, like, eons by then?

Now then, let us reflect on a figure perhaps since forgotten. Were it not, in fact, for this patron saint of the clitoris, March would've been out like a Lamb indeed!

Li. Lo.

This month she: Vowed to go topless in a movie, got out of rehab, forgot to go to veteran (and wonderful) director Robert Altman's funeral, but sent a sorrowful statement VIA BLACKBERRY, showed some wicked side, front, and under boob, possibly screwed Jude Law in the last days of his hotness, hit everything with her car, and dyed her hair blonde.

Nothin compared to Whitney though. Remember her?

Also. Sanjaya....

God is this over yet?

April.

Suri Cruise is born! And yet remains three months away from being proven real. ..............WAIT! Thats 2006.

Lindsay still dominates at this point and gee, I kinda miss that kooky kid! She sure was...kooky.
Her Myspace got hacked, and people retreat in droves for Facebook. There's some vague lesbian missives involved, but who could possibly care? The object of her sapphic love looks like one of the blonde Hobbits on meth.

And one of my favorite stories, which I completely forgot about: Scary Spice's Eddie Murphy baby! Remember how bitchy he was? Like damn! One wonders if she was a cheater and he was bitter. Or if, in fact, Eddie Murphy is an insufferable dick.

The world votes for the latter.
Twice in this post I invoke the affable spirit of Charlie Murphy, he who will save us.

Also, possibly my favorite Britney "Oops, I'm...so not cute anymore. At all." moment. She wanders around town in a white shirt with a huuuuge food stain on it, eerie dark nipples showing.

Here. http://idontlikeyouinthatway.com/2007/04/britney-spears-has-another-boyfriend.html

Stars! They're just like fat people with Diabetes!

Related: Turns out "Ho's" is an offensive term. Rutgers Basketball Team galled. Centuries old undead man held responsible.

Unrelated: Blonde gay man Baby Nicole Smith's daddy! World sort of pays attention, and then worries about the new Transformers trailer.

May!

In her first public concert in three years, Britney Spears performed a 15-minute set at the San Diego House of Blues. In a wrap made out of the Bumble from Rudolph. Hundreds flock, and leave in snickering disappointment. Camera phones documents the unease.

Surprise of the month: Lindsay? Still a drunk. But fuck her, man. This is where the rumbling starts that Paris Hilton might go to jail. Like, real jail. Actual bars in front of her face, big metal locky sound, stern man with a whistle standing over her JAIL! America is so happy, it's almost like the time we dropped a big ol' bomb on a city or two and danced all over our War Bonds....

Wait. I think it might be better than that.

Anyway, THIS I cannot believe was so long ago: The Hoff yells at a hamburger. That's....kind of all there is to report. But you ALL remember.

***Fin.

It is here when I forgot which text editor I saved this damn thing to and promptly forgot about it.

Forgive a lady.

So. Sate yourselves with this the way we pretended the "Lost Chapelle" Episodes were almost good.

2007-10-04T09:44:00.000-05:00

Shameless Self Promotion.

I got two headlines in the "Overheard in New York" headlines contest. I win nothing but an undeserved ego boost.

Check it! - Headline Contest Winners

While you're at it, spend the entire day surfing the archives of the site.

It's. Completely. Worth. It.

2007-09-11T19:11:00.000-05:00

6 years..

So. Here we are, 6 years on. We all know the date, no need to rehash. And where are we?

Disgusting hair extensions at The Palms and the new Valentino line being shown at Bryant Park while some snark blog editors pass out Barf Bags (OMG models are SKINNY didn't you KNOW!)

Kanye vs 50 and the near death of a mediocre actor's mediocre actor brother.

Summer of the one star threequel and the Rehabbed Starlet.

Senator Craigslist busted for The Gayness (!), Paris busted for the drunkness. Nicole is The Preggers. High School Musical Deuce is The Bomb.

No new developments here at Stizzosa. Just thought I'd try to get you to be as depressed as I am...

2007-08-27T21:08:00.000-05:00

Oh, no no, that's ok Girls. You only set us back 75 years!

May I begin by heartily disclaiming: I am no feminist. Hold open my doors, pull out my chairs, and no cussing in front of my mom, you dig? No I will not go HALVES on a first date. You asked ME!
I mean, come on. I don't understand how the braless ugly girls got the men of the world to treat us like crap, but I am against it.

I, already, digress.

The task at hand is not to put down the "strong women" of the 21st century (You know, even dang Beyonce gets her man to buy her jewelry I MEAN DAMN.) but to sing praise to the up and coming boys.

Case in point...SHIA.

Anyone who's seen a movie in the last 6 months knows Shia Lebouf, former Disney slave turned box office powerhouse. Bless him, he's cute as a button. A jewish button, but still! All jew-froed...

Anyway.

He's 19. And have you ever seen his picture on Perez, dotty coke lines coming out his nose? Nope. Kid even grew up with a drug addict dad and hippie mom, and manages to stay in on Friday nights.

Can we give more money to him?

Case in point part deux: Seth Rogen.

Now, maybe it's a jewish thing (see: jew fro) but this guy, who looks about 30, is 24. And a comedic genius. He's WELL on his way to being a billionaire. He graduated AFTER me (a true mark of old: famous people are now younger than me.) yet got to make out with one of the hottest actresses of the year in one of the best comedies of all time. And is this kid getting DUIs with coke in his pants?

NO.

I can go on (George Michael Bluth! That guy from Smallville! McLovin!)

But let us turn our weary eyes, America, to our chick role models.

Jessica Alba: You get to see her panties in her new movie! With Dane Cook (Hi. Dane. Are you over yet? I'm preeeetttty sure you are. You may go now.)
Jessica Biel: You got to see her panties in her last movie! A homophobic romp through NYC!
Jessica Simpson: No. Stop. The hottest guitarist EVA dumped you like 3 times.
Lindsay: Ywn. Die already.
Paris: Layin low, but surely spreadin the herp on the DL.
Nicole: Preggers by the most gigantic douche ever to be on Dateline. (I include Stone Phillips in this.)
Halle: Boring.
Courtney: Dying.
Katie: Hostage.
Britney: ...

Ow. My head.

So. I can't walk into a mall without seeing "Girl Power" t-shirts and "Chicks Rule!" Keychains.

Yet our only viable answer to the stable young actors of today are...Gwen Stefani, who's pushing 40 and fast falling off the Tween radar. And Fergie. A former Meth addict who has urinated on herself onstage. And who's pushing 277.

Lilo's last movie tanked, of course (Witnesses say a scene in which she is hit with a shovel, supposed to be harrowing, was met with peals of laughter form the audience), as did the J-Biel homo movie and anything J-Simp touches (Hi Nick!), but what about the rest of them...?

How can we as a culture just make. Them. STOP?!

I welcome suggestions.

Ah, and even now, as I watch The Fresh Prince (Will Smith! He's cool too!), I bear witness to the biggest slut of them all. That shining example to our next generation of women voters....

the dead eyes of...

The Bratz Doll.

Say what you will, bitches. Barbie may have enormous tits, but at least she got to be an Astronaut.

2007-07-19T16:37:00.000-05:00

Disturbing Trends Alert:

Today on the G train, I spotted, from the corner of my eye, what my brain registered as “cute boy”. Short-ish shaggy haired, skinny jeaned hipster extraordinaire, complete with guitar in gig bag on back! Eye Candy Gold. But when I turned my head to further investigate, it became clear…my new boyfriend? Was a girl.

This is the THIRD TIME THIS WEEK I’ve been fooled into thinking a girl was a boy. Oh go ahead and toot your “repressed lesbian urges” horn. I know what goes on down there. I want no more part of it than I am already forced by God to endure.

Why would a girl chop off all her hair and dress like one of the guys from OK GO? The video was popular, yes, but I can’t see an acceptable outcome outside of treadmill humor. Boys, any of you like the “kind of 14 year old pre pubescent child look”? Girls, any of you appreciate a very sleepy Italian chick (me.) on the G train checking you out?

I don’t get it. I have no formal conclusion to this epidemic.

But while I’m talking about my general hatred for females, let me revisit an old foe…

I may have to implement a “No Uggs” rule on this page, as I’m starting to sound like a broken..CD…(None of you know what a record looks like, right? Nor why I would sound like one that is broken, I expect.). But. UGGS.

Now, it’s summertime! Yay summer! Flowers bursting in full bloom, children plummeting off diving boards, lovers weeping in the park, etc. And girls wearing dresses! Everyone loves that part, for skin showing or what have you. But suddenly, it seems girls don’t want to let go of the Uggs, because they’re wearing them with their delicate Forever 21 dresses!

UNACCEPTABLE! You: Don’t look good.

Stumpy, more like. In all, you appear as though you’ve fashioned crude foot coverings out of large loaves of bread. Is this what you were trying to achieve? With your DRESS?

I have a recurring nightmare about brides walking down the aisle in Uggs. I have no idea how to keep this from happening. (Oh, it’s coming, just you wait.) Can you imagine? As it is, I have seen recent wedding photos of a blushing young bride in a lovely dress….changing from her high heels to PINK PLASTIC FLIP FLOPS for her reception.

Girls suck. Ugh. …get it?

And now, A Public Service to you, my reader.

Websites to visit instead of refreshing Myspace 14 times an hour.:

www.jezebel.com

Girls bitching about the pull out method, the folding of Jane magazine, and Kirsten Dunst’s teeth.

www.foundmagazine.com

Shit people find on the ground is often beautifully haunting. Like Polaroid pictures of empty highways discovered in old abandoned buildings. Supplement your TMZ viewings with a little humanism.

www.threadless.com

Create an account and judge people’s potential t-shirt designs. Because if you read this blog, it means you enjoy being judgmental.

Then, buy an awesome t-shirt!

Maybe more next week? Wish my waning creativity some luck.

2007-06-14T08:49:00.000-05:00

NOW HEAR THIS.

From The New York Times:

Who would’ve guessed that Paris Hilton would help “underscore the profound effect of the Sheriff’s Department’s early-release program” in Los Angeles?

That’s part of what the Los Angeles Times has concluded after analyzing 2 million jail releases and finding 1,500 comparable cases since July 2002. Following up on all that outrage over what many saw as unequal application of justice after her release, the newspaper has found, in short, that she’s doing more time than most people:

Had Hilton left jail for good after four days, her stint behind bars would have been similar to those served by 60 percent of those inmates.

But after a judge sent her back to jail Friday, Hilton’s attorney announced that she would serve the full 23 days. That means that Hilton will end up serving more time than 80 percent of other people in similar situations.

In the article, one of the loudest critics of the early release of Ms. Hilton is quoted saying the data persuaded him to alter his view. “The rules of fairness should be applied equally,” said Najee Ali, director of Project Islamic Hope.

Now I’ve said before that this celebutard™ is being made an example of. And here is a reliable source, whose pages are not glossy nor involve the word “Bennifer”, that proves it.

America, we should be outraged that an incarcerated person can be allowed to go home, spend a day there, and then be forced to go back to jail by a pissy judge. Yeah, pissy judge, I said it! Anyone get a glimpse of the court order demanding she appear? It was scrawled in the same writing one would expect from a serial killer's manifesto.

All you liberal bleeding hearts are showing your true colors these past few weeks, with your marches for equality being cancelled out by your “She SUCKS! Send her to JAIL! I mean SERIOUSLY! I haaaaaate her! TISNF!!”

Poor personality and a wonky eye are not a reason to send someone to prison.

You fucking uninformed people are gonna vote for Hillary too, I’ll bet. God dammit, I’m going to have to move to France, aren’t I?

Hopefully, Lindsay does something ridiculous soon, because I am officially sick of this subject.

Fuck along, now.

2007-06-07T12:33:00.000-05:00

Oh shut up everyone, seriously.

Do not mistake this for a blog in her defense, but can the world REALLY be that mad about Paris’s “reassignment”? She wasn’t actually released, if you read a little further, she was sent to house arrest. Yeah yeah, at a 30 acre estate in the Hollywood Hills, but whatevs man, home is home. Toast every morning and PS2 with your mom all day gets boring no matter how you slice it. It seems reasonable to me. But, America, why the uproar?

I can’t believe how calmly I read the news this morning, while Myspace bulletins exploded onto the scene as though something actually Earth shattering had happened! A rich person avoided hard jail time! Raise the terror alert to Fuchsia!

People…SHE DIDN’T KILL ANYONE! She’s dumb as a box of weaves, but certainly not dangerous to society. How can you despise someone’s un-newsworthiness, and then pull a 180 and decide “Wait! I want to talk about her A LOT now!!”.

Sidebar: Things I want to see a Myspace bulletin about:

-Tara Reid nominated for Oscar.

-John Travolta comes out as Gay-A-Licious! Also, buys a plane named same.

-Suri Cruise on drugs, beats Drew Barrymore’s kid-high record.

This means if I cared it was your birthday, I’d already know about it and leave a comment on my own. Stop bulletining. I hate you. End sidebar.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I pay taxes (well… usually, and only when I fill the form out correctly.) and it costs about $200,000 to sustain ONE federal prisoner over the course of five years. That’s your money! Why should their be unbridled happiness that a skinny bitch in orange pajamas is going to put a further drain on a system

Yeah, we hate her, but only inasmuch as she is always in the news. House arrest certainly does enough to stanch that flow. The vagina spreadings should be dramatically reduced.

And really, people, we’ve got two down (Lindsay’s in the ‘Hab, so pour one out for ya sista) and one to go (Britney’s kids desperately need your help. Please send this acne ravaged popstar to Mom-Rehab?).

And if things go well for the world, we might actually have an inappropriate-vagina-flash free summer! Sorry boys!

Now, lemme just go bulletin about this....

NOTE, 10pm 6/7: I fucking hate that I have to sound like I'm defending her because more people get their news from People Magazine instead of The New York Times, but...no, she was not driving drunk on a suspended license. She was driving, regular style, on a suspended license. Yesterday on my way out of work I passed a good friend who informed me his license was suspended, but he was going to the beach tomorrow. Like I said in an earlier post, bitches get away with a lot more in this life, and I am not comfortable with one solitary non-dangerous quote unquote criminal taking up solitary confinement space usually reserved for violent sex offenders and murderers. Furthermore, the maintenance required for a celebrity to be put in the general prison population is unfair to the already overworked criminal justice system.

Now, get a life everyone, there's starving kids in Darfur.

2007-06-05T18:46:00.000-05:00

6/5/07

*I'd post her mugshot...but it's so damn disturbing, with her extra three inches of...nose ledge (you know what I'm sayin)*

And you totally know who I'm talking about.

Can I get an AMEN? Justice is not so blond I mean blind.

But, if I may...IS it justice? I've known less law abiding citizens get nothing more than a summons + fine for such an offense. Bitch is in jail cuz...well...she's a bitch. The judge (standing O in church and all) probably thinks he's doing The Lord's work. But what is a skinny blonde in an overcrowded, underfunded prison system going to prove to the world? That no one is above the law? Pfft! Kennedys, trust fund babies and politician's girlfriends will continue to get special treatment, as they have since the beginning of the freakin Stone Age.

I....have half a mind to get myself a Free Paris tshirt. Whore is being made an example of.
Nicole Richie (Oh, Lionel, what hath thou wrought!) was driving THE WRONG WAY ON A HIGHWAY, high on drugs, and has never appeared in court. Lindsay Lohan and Kate Moss have been videotaped snorting coke, and both continue their pale, freckled antics. Inasmuch as one is dating a male coke whore and the other is in, ahem, "rehab" (real rehab don't let you out to get some Wendy's, beyotches.)

What did Paris do? She let herself be videotaped having sex. THAT'S why we delight in her discomfort.

Let he who has not sinned cast the first blog post....

You remember 90210, right? Yeah, Donna Martin drank at the prom. Donna Martin got fall down ass over eyes DRUNK at the prom.

But...did Donna Martin Graduate?

Damn right.

I can sure as hell pick a better scapegoat for the world's giggling meanness (um, Rosie O'Donnel anyone? Bitch got owned by a pregnant lady who married an ATHLETE). And...what are we gonna do without Paris? Lindsay may very well die pretty soon.

Joe Francis, an actual sleazebag ,"famous" criminal-rapist, weeps in a cell every day. With this, I am satiated. Let us not get greedy, world.

Laugh at America instead at overheardeverywhere.com. You're boss won't thank me, you slacking interweb surfer, but you will.

2007-04-09T10:35:00.000-05:00

An age, gone.

Newsflash: Apparently Grindhouse bombed at the box office. Who knew today’s moviegoers wouldn’t want to sit in a sticky packed room for 4 hours without a break. With lil’ babies all running around the place and popcorn costing you $54.97. Can producers get it now? The golden age of spending an afternoon at the cinema is as dead as taupe pantyhose. The spirit of downloading, copying, and buying things off a blanket is firmly with us and here to stay.

Forgive my laziness and lack of actual quotes, but when M. Night Shamylan’s “Lady In The Water” came out, he gave an interview to somewhere where he said things like “Everyone loves going to a theater”. In same interview La Spielberg himself said things along the same lines, including “No one will ever stop going to a movie theater to see movies, I think.”, regarding the rising incidents of DVD leaks in the industry. The question arose of the simultaneous release of home video and theatre versions of a movie, and he scoffed, as though no one would choose their own living room.

The fuck? These pampered pussies have obviously not been to an actual movie theater in about 200 years. I wonder what they picture when they envision their fans handing over $12. A man in a vest and fez taking your coat? Cheerful movie buffs good naturedly arguing over the nuances of Citizen Kane versus Spartacus? Perfectly non-greasy popcorn in stripey bags being eaten by lovers with intertwined arms? (…You know, that cross armed way you can drink champagne? You get it, right? It is imperative that you picture this.)

The reality, you all may realize, is more along the lines of the first 10 minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Only with cell phones that blast “My Humps”.

Aside from certain epics such as the new King Kong or The Return of the King (America thanks you, Peter Jackson!), what need do we have for the silver screen? Of course it’s awesome to see things bigger and louder, but at what cost? Is it really worth “Stadium Seating” to actually touch another person’s elbow/ankle for two hours? Is it the novelty of eating in a public place while watching something? Can it still be so strong? I can make better nachos than the bitter girl at United Artists, that’s fo’ sho’.

But back to Grindhouse…

The Weinsteins, Hollywood’s Zillionaire producer duo, seem genuinely shocked that Quentin T and Robert R’s Pet Project didn’t open at number 1. It was number 4! Blades of Glory remained at the top! (The need for a 2 story tall Will Ferrell is definitely beyond me, hilarity aside.) And Ice Cube’s stupid movie “Are We Ever Gonna Rap Again, Sell Out?” was number 3!

Now, I’m intrigued as the next gal when it comes to Assault Rifles as Appendages, but WHY would anyone with disposable income and 3.8 hours to kill spend it in a big dark room caked with Diet Dr Pepper and old gum? To watch a blood and gore fest I’ve heard only half of is watchable? With STRANGERS. Please understand that a good B-Movie is certainly something to sing about. But…not pay more than $10 for. Especially if after this payment all you can leave with is kernels and a memory. I’m surprised at their surprise. SOMEONE must have brought this up at the meeting.

“Yeah, It’s 200 minutes long and Rose McGowan kind of looks like Delta Burke. It’s gonna be fly. The second one is so bad it’s actually bad. Zillion bucks. Tie this one to the roof. Order the Jaguar. Kiss bye, lunch every day.”

“SRRSLY?” *incredulous look*

I pray that this whole “surprise” is a step in the right direction. I’m hoping someday we’ll actually be able to have a choice as to where we want to watch our Jack Black vehicles. My biggest dream? That only a few of the aforementioned “epics” ever get released to the cinemas, and the leftover theaters are dedicated to classics of the past that none of us got to see on the big screen, like Indiana Jones! Wouldn’t that be nice? Paying money for a movie you already know is awesome?

So, sorry your movie is gonna make like 48 bucks, Quentino and Robert, but it just goes to show: The directors, producers and even actors simply don’t know what we want anymore. Spend a day at UA College Point. Like me, you’ll probably never go back again.

Except for Spiderman. And Transformers. TRANSFORMERS: The Movie! I have my $47 for a ticket and a very small root beer earmarked already.

2007-04-07T12:10:00.000-05:00

The Seinfeld Conundrum.

This one may hurt. What I'm about to say may not even make sense to some of you. I expect you might what to sit down, or something.

I Hate Seinfeld.

Then again, I realize, there are a lot of you that agree.

I almost got fired/thrown out a 6 story window when I uttered my hate at work. Several males and females my age kind of looked at me as though I just told them I invented 'shotgun legs' or something. One girl even declared that she may have to stop liking me. And I am CONFUSED. What The Fuck? It's the kind of reaction one would expect from a racial slur or somesuch... I slurred a comedian.

And to this I say: I stand by my comment. Because I don't know of anyone who was born in the 80s and grew up here that enjoys the show.

And I also say: I think it's a New York City thing.

Seinfeld (do I really have to explain it? Non-Fiction Writing 101 says yes.) is a show about 4 jerks who do nothing with their lives but continually fuck it up royally. It is not a show about nothing, asses. It's about what I just said. And NYCers basically see that on the 4 5 6 line every morning. See, the thing is, everyone at my job my age didn't grow up here. It's an interesting point. Small towns don't have as much jerk tomfoolery as the big bad apple.

Moreover, I find that people my sister's age (29 and holding?) can't get enough, watching the reruns whenever they're on (400 times a day on 3 channels) and constantly quoting episodes. The jerkness, obviously, was funny to them. Jerkness in the 90s was perhaps at an all time low. I blame grunge. The Gen Xers were too busy crying about Kurt to be jerks, I guess.

But we 18-30 year olds, on the other hand, had to suffer the dot com fools and all the subsequent "entrepreneurs" that came along. and watching a bunch of jerks (sorry for the overuse, Roget's has no synonyms for it.) talk about breasts, diaphragms, mangoes, puffy shirts, bread (specifically, rye), Superman and JFK Jr. is nothing short of infuriating! Because they keep fucking it up somehow!

I realize, America, that this is the very point the show has blossomed from. And I hate it. Perhaps if it was a little more madcap, a little more "Reno 911"?

The conundrum continues, however, because our demographic? LOVES "Curb Your Enthusiasm"! Larry David is the mother and father and perhaps even godfather of Seinfeld. However, I feel Larry filters his jerkness through the aformentioned madcappery I requested, thus make the jerkitude a little more...adorable. We like adorable. See: Inexplicable success of Dakota Fanning. Lack of canned laughter probably helps. Lack of a parade of jerk friends, instead replaced with a long suffering wife helps, too. She suffers WITH us!

In all, I'm waiting for the day when another "timeless" sitcom begins the syndication rounds ad-infinitum. Just so I don't have to accidentally come across George Constanza's annoying parents during my dinner. Because let me tell you, nothing ruins a meal like kvetching.

As long as It's not Sex and The Annoying Bitches with Fucking Stupid Shoes.

2007-04-04T13:50:00.000-05:00

It's The Best Week Ever Again!!

Unlike the rest of the 18-35 year olds in this country, I have shunned American Idol. Shunned. Even talk of it in the office. Even mention of it on the news. I vowed to cut it out of my life and send it floating away,like an elderly Eskimo on an ice floe. If my TIVOs Best Week Ever mentions it, I fast forward past. Because I simply cannot fucking take it anymore. A gigantic joke on the lower 48 states (And sometimes Hawaii!) for 5 years running, the popularity contest to end all others gets under my skin with the “So BAD! TeeHee!” clip reels during the first few episodes, and burrows deep into my black soul until only one, ahem, “talent” remains.

Ya’ll know the truth, right? That A.I. famously holds back true talent from the final judgement process at tryouts in favor of the ball sucking-bad “personalities”?

I have a serious question…why is it that Fox thinks we don’t want to see a string of great singers and one or two bad ones, and instead the other way around? Confidential to Fox: I WISH JACK BAUER WOULD TORTURE YOU. He’s so good at it.

Ah. But now, our Messiah has arrived. And against all my own promises… I’m riveted.
Fox, you think we want to see bad singers? Well, SUCK IT. SUCK ON SANJAYA.
In the wake of the last 4 idols whom no one remembers (unless they turn gay, of course, CLAY. P.S.- Kelly, you’re getting kind of fat again.) we finally have our tool for destruction. If we get him at least to the top 5, we’ll know we have won. Every show has to jump the shark sometime, and Shakiraya is our Raven Simone. Bringer of the end. I understand I’m mixing a lot of metaphors here, but stay with me.

You realize, my pretties, that if we keep Sanjayayayayaya in for as long as we can, American Idol will be forced to change! At the very least, endure a year long retooling promising an actual talent competition for 2008, instead of the Sad Parade of Retards and The Criminally Disillusioned.

I know I’m jumping rather late on a bandwagon populated by the likes of Perez Hilton and Howard Stern (bitches both) but I really believe in this cause. And Dancing With Celebrities is really boring.

I think, America and all 10 of you reading this, that I have to end it on this:

VOTE SANJAYA! Tuesday nights on FOX! Ryan Seacrest is gay!

Oh wait..You knew that already.

Rock The Vote!

2007-03-26T13:10:00.000-05:00

Talk about the worst week ever.

Anna Nicole Smith: Still dead! Drugs, even! Didn’t see that one coming, did you???
Ninja Turtles: Popular still.. Also, talking like Vanilla Ice still!
Britney Saga Continues: Toothache!
Salma Hayak: Uh…Breasts still fabulous?

UGH!

We, the pop culture fanatics, had SUCH a great start to 2007! Death! Rehab! Vaginas! Give it give it give it! Best week ever was every damn week!

And here we are…Sanjaya didn’t get voted off. Bored now.

Lindsay’s blonde again? Feh. Paris dressing like somebody’s mom? Meh. Mary Kate remains skinny? Bleh. Sex tape featuring water sports. Ok…that sounds promising. Starring Kim Kar-who-ian? …ew.

I may sound ungrateful. More so than usual, anyway. But didn’t we almost have it all? The culmination, the load blown too soon, was the moonlight shining off Britney’s bald head. And I blame her.

Couldn’t she wait until summer?

Let me be clear. I think I am projecting anger where I actually have fear. Anyone remember the last time the news was so superficial?

Mariah releases sucky album! And sucky movie! And breaks plate! Gary Condit prolly killed that jewish girl! Pentagon loses like 2 billion dollars and can’t find it! Tara Reid nip slip!

September 10th, 2001. The good ol’ days, eh?

I’m kind of worried at how God will punish us this time.

More importantly, will a famous person just DIE already? Is anyone even sick? Hi, Nicole Ritchie? Yeah, I was kind of betting on you to break a collarbone due to rickets or something. Get on that.

Meantime, I suppose I can keep myself occupied with the
REALLY CUTE POLAR BEAR SWEEPING THE NATION!

Enjoy.

2007-02-14T17:18:00.000-05:00

V Day.

Happy Valentine's everyone. Happy "waaaaaah, fake holiday" to those of you bitter and single.

In honor of this, our "fake greeting card holiday! waaaah!", the NY daily news compiled a list of what they call "The greatest love songs of all time".

Here is a partial list, just the top 25:

1. "My Girl" The Temptations (Makes everyone our age think of Macualy Culkin getting eaten by bees)
2. "I'll Be There" The Jackson 5 (Michael. Need I say more?)
3. "Wonderful Tonight" Eric Clapton (PLAYED OUT PLAYED OUT PLAYED OUT PLAYED OUT)
4. "I Just Called to Say I Love You" Stevie Wonder (Ok, Stevie rocks)
5. "You Are So Beautiful" Joe Cocker (Sounds like it's sung by a retard. But I do love me some Joe when he's bluesin' out.)
6. "In My Life" The Beatles (Where is the love in this song??)
7. "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" Roberta Flack (I have no idea what song this is)
8. "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" Elvis Presley (Fucking SAD. It's about a BREAKUP. How old are these people?!)
9. "Michelle" The Beatles (About a stripper. Love. Capital L)
10. "I Can't Stop Loving You" Ray Charles (Awesome, I agree with this one)
11. "Best of My Love" The Emotions (Ok, maybe.)
12. "Bridge Over Troubled Water" Simon & Garfunkel (What? Gay much?)
13. "All I Have to Do Is Dream" The Everly Brothers (The only words to this anyone knows are "Dream dream dream dream dreeeeeaaaaamm")
14. "You've Got a Friend" Carole King ("...that's sleeping because this song is booooring")
15. "Killing Me Softly With His Song" Roberta Flack (Lauryn Hill we need you. How is this a love song? Obsession is NOT love! And he was MEAN.)
16. "To Sir With Love" Lulu (Also no idea what song this is)
17. "Sherry" The Four Seasons (see: Falsettos do not make anyone sexy)
18. "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" Queen (Ok. This is the only legitimate contender. It's about love, how nutty it is, and FREDDY!)
19. "Unchained Melody" The Righteous Brothers ("Ghost". Awww yeah)
20. "Save the Last Dance for Me" The Drifters (At least the Michael Buble version? The girl in the song is a whore anyway.)
21. "Stay" Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs (Dirty Dancing! Why are these getting better the LOWER we get??)
22. "Will You Love Me Tomorrow?" Carole King (No.)
23. "Up on the Roof" The Drifters (WHAT? Slowly I am becoming the bitter V day hater the rest of you high schoolers are)
24. "He's So Fine" The Chiffons (He's also a bad disco song)
25. "I Will Follow Him" Little Peggy March (Obsession is not love)

Notice anything? Yeah. Nothing from this millenium. What's the DEAL people? "Rico Suave" makes me feel more love than any one of these! Might I point out that "In My Life" isn't even a LOVE song! It's about John Lennon's CHILDHOOD! Sick. "Will you still love me tomorrow"?"Killing Me Softly"? More bitter singles on the NY times staff than I thought...

There are about 175 million songs I can think of, off the stop of my little head, that are better, more meaningful, and more google eyed lovey than any one of these fossils. Don't get me wrong, music enthusiasts, I am a fan of the oldie but goody, but I mean, come ON. Little Peggy March? Forgive my legs for remaining closed.

Enough of my ramblings. I present to you an exhaustively researched (I turned on my iPod) and newly updated list of songs some of us might actually want to hear during our love getting this night (or, you know, photo burning bitter-fests). And for goodness sake, I present it to you in the order God and David Letterman intended, starting from the BOTTOM. Boys, get your iTunes trigger fingers ready to make this tonight's playlist, and in this order. I was a DJ once, and I would never steer you wrong. Light the candles and ready the duvet.

25) Ain't That a Kick in the Head - Dean Martin (Come on, kick it old school with your bad self. It's impressive to vaginas)
24) Baby's Got Sauce - G Love and Special Sauce (YOU KNOW IT)
23) Beating Hearts Baby - Head Automatica
22) Ordinary World - Duran Duran
21) 500 Miles - The Proclaimers
20) Brighter Than Sunshine - Aqualung (Be wary not to download the SONG Aqualung...that's different.)
19) Everything - Alanis Morisette
18) Melissa - The Allman Brothers Band ...altough...this may only work if you girlfriend is named as such
17) If I Ain't Got You - Alicia Keyes
16) Can't Take My Eyes Off of You - Lauryn Hill
15) If You Leave - Nada Surf, OMD cover. This one's sweeter.
14) Don't Go Away - Oasis
13) Time After Time - Eva Fischer, Cyndi Lauper cover. But let's face it, Cyndi's voice does not evoke amorous feelings.
12) Blue Eyes - Cary Brothers
11) Underneath it All - No Doubt
10) In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel
9) I Melt With You - Modern English (Check out the Nouvelle Vague version, too)
8) Crazy Love - many artiists have covered, but I prefer the Brian McNight. He puts some extra soul into it. Yeaaahh.
7) Lay Lady Lay - Bob Dylan (Boys. Watch her clothes FLY off. Or..maybe that's just me)
6) Linger- The Cranberries
5) Swallowed In The Sea - Coldplay
4) Friday I'm In Love/
3) Pictures of You - The Cure (Leave it to the goths to get it so very right, and twice.)
2) Let My Love Open The Door, acoustic version - Pete Towshend
and 1) with a fucking bullet: Fade Into You - Mazzy Star. The best. Ever.

So listen up bitter punks and lovey doves alike. I IMPLORE you to comment, because, as in any list, I've left someone's favorite out. I want to know the songs to make you well up and cry in your bedroom.

Happy "HALLMARK MADE IT UP!! WAAAAHHH!!"

Hearts,
R

2007-02-09T01:10:00.000-05:00

I've forgone my "I Suddenly Realize Star Wars is Ruined" blog for the following announcement.

I'm mad at God.

That's right, God. Once again, your bolt of death lighting has struck the wrong person. Anna Nicole. In a world of anorexic pygmies, vagina flashing moms, dead eyed rich prostitutes and coke dusted bitches, you chose a rather sweetly oblivious southern girl with a weight problem.

And you suck for it.

I'd love for someone to point out the last time Paris or Lindsay said something that was actually amusing to the world ("Want some mooooney?") or went out of their way at an actual event, as opposed to at a Girls Gone Wild rape-fest, to steal the show. And without flashing a tit. Anna was incorrigible, I realize, but at least she was entertaining. Even though she was obviously slurry.
God, I know there's that time you let Jeffrey Dahmer die (and you'll thank me for not going into detail about that one) but GOD. That doesn't let you off the hook for EVERYTHING. I mean, really.

Hey, i'm no TMZ, so I don't know about making ambitious allegations that will most likely prove to be untrue but, I realize she could've done herself in. And here I am, one of a trillion beings mad at God for no reason (Red Sox fans? Looking at you.). Well, it sucks wether you did it or she did.

In my day, I've seen a few celebs kick it. And some of them really made me sad. Jim Henson, Bob Hope, Johnny Carson, Princess Di, the chick from My Sister Sam. Some were old and ready, some were stolen from Earth much too soon.(oh yeah, to be closer to the angels. Next time I hear someone say that at a funeral I am fully setting fire to my hair.). But never in all my 21 *ahem* years have I seen a celebrity death affect people so. I am truly shocked about that. Everyone kind of...stopped...for a while. Texts were sent 'round the world and met with UTTER disbelief. Emails were answered with "She's WHAT? That's so....weird. I...don't really know what to say." Even the blogs shied away from the supposed "video of her dead body getting CPR". Seriously. BestWeekEver wouldn't even touch it with a 39.5' pole. Perez Hilton, that bitch, issued an apology for making fun of the death when it was thought to be rumor. Why the rather widespread gentleness? Maybe it's cuz her kinda cool son died pretty recently, followed by odd marriage and baby daddy questions. Maybe it's because she got kinda hot again.

Maybe it's because...and I'm gulping here...Maybe it's because...

Seriously this is hard.

OK.

Maybe it's because....she's our Marilyn Monroe.

Sigh.

Now, some forget. But Anna had a HOT, if short lived, classy phase. So did Norma Jean. I realize Marilyn was genuinely looking for love (in all the wrong places, etc.) but she was tortured, occasionally drug addicted soul who suffered quite a bit at the hands of the media. Familiar much? Now, put Vicky Lynn (as Anna was baptized) in 1960 and I imagine she'd pull most of the same stunts. Skirt up in the wind in movies, presidential scandals, an array of ill advised marriages, and, of course, an early and tragic death.

Marilyn got her start in Playboy too, ya know. The public felt a little more protective towards Marilyn, but such were the times. We're not quite so forgiving. When Gentlemen Prefer Blondes made her a sweet and ditzy star, everyone wanted her hair. Her marriage to a baseball star made the nation OBSESSED. Anna Nicole marries an octogenarian and much eye rolling follows. Trimspa and "E!" sure have changed our world.

Well. She's gone. Now all we've got is Jessica Simp-lookslikeatransvestive-son. Great. THANKS, GOD.

So, Rest In Peace, Anna Nicole. The world pretty much agrees, we'd rather have seen Paris Hilton get hit by a bus and dragged forty feet. Say hi to Ms. Baker Monroe DiMaggio Miller. You guys definitely have some AWESOME stories to trade.

2007-01-30T20:42:00.000-05:00

Ghoooooost Rider.

My boyfriend wants to see Ghost Rider. "But...it's Nicholas Cage" I say. Ghost Rider! He's on fire! He kind of teamed up with Spiderman once! Awesomest name = Johnny Blaze! "But..." I repeat. "It's...Nicholas. CAGE."

Does anyone else hate him? Show of hands? He's weird in his real life, like, weird enough to affect any role he's in. He totally takes me out of any picture, I cannot immerse myself into thinking he is the guy with the mandolin, or the guy who's gonna kill himself with alcohol and Elizabeth Shue, or the guy who stole the Declaration of Independance (see also: Silliest Movie Ever). Such a big Elvis fan he married Lisa Marie. So weird Patricia Arquette avoided him. HE NAMED HIS KID KAL-EL. HELLLLLOOOOOOOOOO? AGGGHHHH

Sorry....went into a bit of a fugue state there...

Anyway. Ghost Rider. For those uneducated: The first Ghost Rider is stunt guy Johnny Blaze, (a name so awesome is merits bolding!) who, in order to save the life of his mentor, agreed to give his soul to "Satan". Ithink they called him Zarathos though? Something about Ninja Gangsters, seriously. But i think that was the second guy. (There's a reason Marvel keeps destroying the whole world) So now he has the powers of "eeevil". When emitting Satan's powers, Blaze's head became a flaming skull and his motorcycle a flaming motorcycle and his hands skeletal flaming hands. (Wait maybe this is meant for Nick Cage (GAY)) You know, a blessing and a curse.

Well, Ghost Rider is pretty cool. Penance Stare! He's on FIRE. And he deserves a better actor. Someone who has other inspirations besides "debonair doofus". After a bit of googling, my heart packed a suitcase and LEFT me upon finding out Johnny Depp seriously considered taking the role. His name is already Johnny!! Bah. He's too good for it anyhow. And then I found out Nick himself has a Ghost Rider tattoo on his back. What the fuck? Why must this guy get involved with everything he has ever remotely liked? Did I mention the Elvis thing? How about his ten year crusade to become Superman? Even Seinfeld settled for a bunch of cartoon commercials.

We'd been doing rather well, us comic book movie lovers...right? Superman Returns was awesome! Batman Begins finally paid proper homage to a dark and disturbed character without cartooning him up and subjecting him to George Clooney (Horrors). And Spidey's going strong! Venom! YAY! But as The Hulk ruined the Spidey high the geeks were on, so Ghost Rider kind of bugs me off my year long Superman buzz. Seriously. Bullet in the eyes. Yes. But..no! People, the motorcycle is made of pure hellfire. Sigh.

So, as The Hulk and X3 and The Punisher (how can they ruin the Punisher?? He just kills!) so Ghost Rider enters the annals of rather convoluted comic turned to Vanity Project-cum-Another Paycheck.

Sorry, Johnny.

But Venom! YAY! 5/4/07! Be there, or be...Netflixing Ghost Rider, I guess. Ha.

2007-01-30T20:31:00.000-05:00

The "I think I hate LOST" mini-blog.

This excludes Sawyer, of course. Sawyer is my boyfriend. Sawyer feeds me grapes he has peeled. Sawyer calls me "sassafrass" in bed.

Anyway.

Michelle Rodriguez. She's really short, really annoying, sneers alot, and her hair completely sucks. She has singlehandedly ruined season two for me. Yes, I realize I am behind. I shunned season one in favor of Smallville, so help me God. But in trying to catch up via DVD, i have stopped short about halfway through season two.. And Lord have mercy, if I have to put with her for another second I will PUNCH. Who flies in cargo pants and a vest, first of all? A Louis Vuitton carry on I am not expecting, but you're traveling from one tropical clime to another, and you're in...layers? Secondly, in real life, chiquita continually gets arrested for drunk driving, which is the dumbest thing one can be arrested for. It's like dying of fatness. PREVENTABLE, you whore. Furthermore...drunk driving on the island of Oahu. And now it's time for breakdown: Drunk Driving. On an. ISLAND. Damn, Gina, WHERE was she going to GO?

I'm told I should persevere. That it gets better. But the commercials for the new eps show total Kate on Sawyer jail bar humping, and I am soooooo not wading through a midget latina's ratty hair to get to that.

Though watch your hobbit loving ass, Kate (if that is your real name!). Cuz Sawyer *hearts* Rosa 4 eva!

2007-01-25T23:15:00.000-05:00

I'm empty.

Head on over to idontlikeyouinthatway.com, bestweekever, or ParisExposed.com. For Paris. Because this bitch wants us to see her little asian boy chest and wonky eyelid. I'm serious. If she insists on living, I want to be able to pass her in the street and KNOW, without a shadow of a doubt, that her tits are horrible and her vagina is flappy. I want to look her in the [cross] eyes and know the most terrible secrets of her life. Watch as she snorts nearly a kilo of coke off the fatty chest of some scion of some worthless empire. And as she lets skeezy Joe Francis, Girls Gone Wild Billionaire, grope her on a yacht. (Bonus: watch the reflection in her sunglasses; NO ONE IS EVEN LOOKING.)
For those of you gossip impaired: Paris Hilton rented a storage facility. Paris Hilton forgot to pay the $208 dollar rent. Paris Hilton's stuff got confiscated. Paris Hilton's stuff is all over the world now.

Read on, in fact, at the above sites. Take note of the Valtrex prescriptions.

I am bereft.

Some of you may be aware that I have a deep seated fear of our imminent nuclear destruction by some crazy Kim or Laden or some such.

At this point, I say bring it. Just let them fall. Because there is no way in heaven, hell or Valhalla that there is any saving us now.

I resign myself onto inevitable death. Thanks Paris...at least you didn't kill me with your stage 3 Syphilus.

2006-12-28T16:51:00.000-05:00

Stop smacking it, 2006. I'm serious.

Just when I thought the worst song of 2006 could be named with confidence, (Lips of an Angel brought to you by the strained vocal styling of "Hinder" which I beg you to pronounce "High-nder" and then refer to your gluteus maximus as such) I am bombarded by a weird song that is so odd in it's sparse synthesisms as to make me feel funny: Akon, "Smack That".

I don't know man, that song is WEIRD. There's like one keyboard and a synthy bass line Kajagoogoo would envy...and somehow it has taken over the world.
I am forced to question: Is it 2001 again already? A reference to Lamborghinis? Tae-bo? Eminem??? Are we not sooo over all these things? Next there's gonna be a remake of The Two Towers, people will think Lindsay Lohan is NOT an ugly snatched coke whore, and your Von Dutch hat can be seen in public without ridicule!

Of course this is yet another case of a song written like 4 years ago and unearthed for a just this side of attractive and talentless hack still 3 songs short of an LP (see: J-Lo, I'm Real; Amerie, One Thing; Britney Spears "Toxic"; Ashley Parker Angel...no wait I can't believe I just typed that ass's name.)

On the other hand, let us reflect on the Best song of 2006:

Ms. Stacey Ferguson's "Fergilicious".

I defy you, sirs, to tell me I am wrong. It coined like eleven terms (Put your boys on rock, girls), misspelled a word into rhyming genius, got cunnilingus on the radio (it is the year of the Vag after all...more on that in a bit) and features that other recognizable Black Eyed Pea. Anyway, what's the competition? "Bad Day"? Don't you dare say "Crazy" because I will put you through a fucking wall. Songs overplayed by Adult Contemporary "AT Work Networks" are automatically disqualified. And despite being cleverly named, Gnarls Barkley, with their "we dress like a famous duo wherever we go we sooo chill download the Grey Album werd.", gimmicked their way into The Pop Music Embarrassment Hall of Fame (say hi to Nelson, boys). Sooo not d-e-l-i-c-i-o-u-s.

While I'm here, Lips of an Angel aside, can we also throw bricks at Gwen Stefani next time she sets foot on American soil?? (be careful! Gavin is very delicate!) Wind It Up, another sparse beat layered over a daring (and not AT ALL pulled off) sample of a Disney song sung by a puppet, is somehow climbing the charts. Probably based solely on the mid twenties former No Doubt fans (GUILTY), Gwen has not been laughed off her label for her attempt at staying ahead of her own curve. And, might I add, trying to keep up with T-A-S-T-E-Y Fergie. Stop winding it up and wearing wigs (note: baby had recently by Gwen+ Babies ruin lives = I'm right again)

But 2006, despite all this sparse synthy weirdness, let me tell you something. There is no way skin flashings in '07 can top you, because, '06? You rocked. the vagina. so hard.

Tara Reid's nip slips of '05 were the Faux Pas Du Jour back in the day, but dudes, do you even realize how much POON there has been this year?? (I'm running out of euphemisms. Comment.) Lindsay, Britney, a not as popular Paris pink sighting (by "sighting" I mean "she pulled up her skirt on a table in a club and like...wiggled it"), Lindsay again...and again...
I don't think I know a guy on earth who didn't think Red Headed Lindsay of the ample bosom and dusting of freckles wasn't the hottest thing the new millennium threw at us. Then, she coked, purged, and flashed herself so much, the same men I knew to have loved her actually shudder at a mention of her. And her "pastrami". Gah.

Mom was right, girls. Do not sell the cow. Or the milk? Whatever, wear underwear whores.

So '06, I could be a typical blogger and make top 10 lists of EVERYTHING A HUMAN HAS MADE THIS YEAR. (Though I MUST admit it was a hard won race between Fergs and JT's "My Love" ....try not to fuck something when that comes on).

But instead, I recap as such:

Tang ruled in '06. Akon and Gwen kinda suck. Lips of an Angel is your little sister's "Tearin' Up My Heart". And above all?

The boys wanna eat it. T to the A to the oh you get it.

To a Fergilicious '07.

SALUT!

2006-11-27T10:19:00.000-05:00

It's happened.

I have reached total and complete saturation of hatred of everyone and everything. Please, hate with me as I list the things that have annoyed me since last I wrote.

1) As though anyone needed a reason to hate New Jersey.

Soon, I will be free from Jersey. I will no longer have to go there for sex, to have dinners bought or made for me, or to feel superior (though I may return from time to time for the latter)

Allow me to give all a reason to truly and finally hate The Garden State.

Uggs.

What? 2001 called? It would appear so. While touring the mall of Redbank, NJ, the boy and I were shocked…nay, appalled, to see that every single girl over 15 and under 22 was wearing Uggs. Fucking UGGS!! It’s like you walked into Macy’s Herald Square and everyone has stirrup leggings and New Kids On The Block heat sensitive color changing half tops on.

And not only were they Uggs, they were all filthy! Every last horrible pair of them. Presumably because they paid $100 bucks for them 3 years ago, and daddy made them promise to “Wear ‘em every winter til your 30."

I can’t even go on. Zach Braff, where art thou?

2) A Girl putting Makeup on. ON THE M TRAIN.

Not lipstick and a bit of gloss. Not mascara and a pinch to the cheek to give the illusion of health. Full on makeup. RIGHT NEXT TO ME.

She began with foundation, and I mean full on spackle, and moved over to several shades of blush. Though ‘blush’ would imply a dewy rose, not a racing stripe. I was mildly shocked in my Queens-native kind of way. Until she pulled out an eyelash curler. This is a contraption that most men, all children, and many women would say looks like a torture device for elves. It is metal, has a scissor like movement, and is put one millimeter away from your moist and trusting eyeball, so that your lashes can achieve full Bambi-ness. Though the sick minds to give birth to this product surely never conceived of its use on, in or around a moving vehicle.

It was at the curling point that I giggled with hate, if such a thing has ever happened. After that she was done, but my right arm was dusted with varying shades of orange, and she looked kind of like a porcelain drag queen. Which, by the way, is an awesome bandname. DIBS.

3) The M Train.

I hate the M train. If you’ve spoken to me in the last month you have learned this, or at least guessed at it as you try to keep me from climbing it’s trestles with explosives strapped to my head and neck. It comes once every 10 minutes DURING RUSH HOUR. I do not feel rushed. It stops at desolate and empty places like “central ave” where no trains connect, no one gets on or off, and I weep. It is often stopped for 5 minutes at a time to let the uber ghetto yet ultra efficient J train pass. It hates me, I hate it, and I am moving almost for the sole purpose of escaping it.

I'm serious, my commute is worse than yours, and I implore you to comment and try to make me believe otherwise.

4) People who don’t eat anything.

Now, I don’t want anyone thinking I’m racist but…I hate white people*. I do. And for one reason only (though you’ve done many a bad thing).

You cannot eat. Rather…you eat yourselves to death with less than opulent ingredients.

You think pork chops should be put in a frying pan until they reduce to half their size and 2% of their original flavor, and enjoy dipping them in mustard and not finishing it. You think pizza looks like it does on Dominos commercials in every country, including Italy, and that people die when they eat sushi. In the pizza vein, you believe nothing can go on it besides “chicken” “pepperoni” and/or “7 types of cheese at once”. Ever had a roasted red pepper? A sun dried tomato? A fucking olive, you bland race of capitalist pigs?

And now Christmas is coming, and I brace for the wrath of the boy, as I tell the world: “His family had plain egg noodles as their side dish last year…and loved it.” They are soooo white.

*Note: on college applications, when asked my race, I always checked the “other” box. As an Italian, swarthy. theivish and facist as we have always been, I could never be mistaken for someone "Caucasian" from Iowa, Germany or Scotland. And people hated us in the 19th century. Even the Irish should get their own damn box just for that.

5) Moving

I don't actually hate moving, as my worldly possessions can fit in my wallet, but it is this forum I have chosen to finally alert the masses that I am moving to Greenpoint, that Matt will be there with me in sin, that Greenpoint is awesome, and can I borrow your van?

Thank you for the vent.

2006-11-21T12:05:00.000-05:00

How. Did this. Happen.

I enjoy electronics. Things powered by batteries and ac adapters and three pronged wires. Things that would frighten someone brought here from the distant past in some kind of machine. (Delorean, Phone Booth, what have you). Things that, it seems, stupid fucking Americans can't even BEGIN to live without.

Now, I include myself in this. If my iPod dies on the 5 train today, I might actually remove my own eyes with a chapstick tube. But the subject at hand is this:

Playstation 3.

Last week, PS3 made it's American debut, and the Running of the Douchebags commenced with such nerdy voracity, there is video of a gentleman running directly into a pole, such was his fervor. Seriously.

How could you, hiking boot wearing single man with 25 extra pounds and a Michigan State hoodie, wait on a line for days..DAYS...for a thing. In a box. That is fake.

Oh, the console itself is of course real, but..and I date myself...Sonic the Hedgehog does not love you, you're not actually KOing Mike Tyson there, and you did not just win the 150cc Gold Cup..because you are NOT The Princess.

What gets me really, are the atrocious people that will wait in line for things that will be available FOR YEARS TO COME.
I am looking directly and deeply into your eyes, Harry Potter fanatics.
Do people wait on line for days for the milk truck? The condom delivery? Heavens no. The milk will be there. The condoms are waiting for you to not use them (idiots).

Does it not occur to you, fat kids standing outside of Best Buy at 2am in order to blow Mommy's money she gave you for your graduation from DeVry, that there's something...else? A movie with a pretty girl in it? A different kind of coffee? Diet Dr Pepper that tastes just like regular?

I am already disturbed by the low levels at which humans in this world are willing to exsist:
putting nothing on your pizza, not taking the subway anywhere because it's "gross", having sex with only one person at a time for your whole life, etc. But games that appear to me to be "Wow, I'm a Drug Dealer", "Hey, I Play Basketball Professionally" and "Did I Kill That Ninja Alien Cowboy? Or Was That A Different One?" Do not seem worth anyone's time.

I am old, and out of touch with most things nerdy not involving the forest moon of Endor, but I assure you, even as I write this on company time, refreshing Myspace, Best Week Ever and Perez Hilton to no end, I will accomplish more today than you, grown man living in your mom's garage wearing Metallica tshirts to "dates" and eating nothing but Cheetos dust instead of buying new bags lest your memory card malfunctions or you have to experience a HUMAN to get more, will finish in the next 6 weeks.

Settle down, dorks.

Ugh.

2006-11-21T11:15:00.000-05:00

Oh, old people.

I often joke that I am old (and then run to the mirror to inspect every pore in my face, satisfied only when I conclude that "joking" did not cause any "wrinkles")
But people, some ya'll are OLD.
It's not your fault really, it's ME who loves the things so many OLD people love.

Case in point: Duran Duran

Being the Luckiest Duran Duran fan is....easy. I'm last to get a wrist band before they sell out, have pictures and autographs, and most recently, won tickets to an Atlantic City show on Myspace.

God that sentence reeks of old. I must soldier on lest I create a frown line.

So. AC. Seedy. But we knew that. It was the clientelle of this particular show that got me. And the amounts of leopard skin lycra it wrought.

Of course, DD was at its peak of fame in 1984, and the flushed Capezio wearing Tab drinking teenagers of then are the Soccer moms of now, full on mid 30s, havn't had a night out in, like, a year. And never has it been more evident than in...New Jersey. (God...another wrinkle..) The cast of characters was nothing short of astonishing.

Standing directly in front of my line of sight, was a marginally pretty, Milf-ish sort, and her friend. Now, I don't know how many of you have been to Jersey, but a phenomenon is more evident there than anywhere else, a condition know as Huge Asses on Ladies (or "HAL".)
The Milf's friend did not seem that heavy, a curvy size 14 at most...from the waist up. But her HAL was ginormous. I'm talking, my head is 3 feet away from hers, and I'm somehow still grazing her HAL with my thigh. HOW??

Then there was a "drunk gentleman" (I use both words loosely) who spent most of the pre-show on his cell, telling people how "HOLY FUCK JIM'S HAVING TWINS". Congrats to Jim and his strong swimmers, surely, but DG went on to loudly slur, "FUCKER THINKS HE CAN GO OUT NEXT WEEK AND I'M LIKE YOUR LIFE IS OVER BRO.....WHAT?...DURAN FUCKING DURAN...THE HUNGRY WOLF GUYS....WHO? ....SHE'S RIGHT HERE....THE KIDS?...ARE WITH HER MOM...."

This...is someone's father. Or guardian. Or something. *a wrinkle forms*

And of course, as at every DD show, there was the 40 year old convinced she was 24. Fake blonde, bumping into guys all night "accidentaly" and crowing about how many drink's she's had. At one point, her coat was on the floor..and so was her drink...which she then kicked...onto her coat...

But it is not all this oddness that gets me, its that when the show started, these people...stood...stock... still. For all their character, drink, and girth, they song not a line along. Why?

OLD!

And what makes you old?

CHILDREN! Be you a teacher or a mother.
A recurring theme in my blogging, for shiz.

So, things not to do: Get fat; marry a drunk; get knocked up with twins.

Oh, the concert was awesome by the way. Those 80s icons were SO DRUNK!

2006-09-27T17:22:00.000-05:00

A Klosterman-esque Tirade

I have neices. I feel we should get that out of the way. Keep in mind, I don't show pictures, I often tell them they are punished, and sometimes tell them Santa and The Easter Bunny hate them.

They enjoy bland Disney entertainment. Amanda Bynes, Lindsay Lohan, Hilary Duff, the parade of collarbone protrusion delights them the same way I am delighted by vodka. Only I don't think The Lizzie McGuire Show ever brought on nausea and a penchant for inappropriate men.

Anyway, Nicole (Niece The Elder, age 10) and I were watching Amanda Bynes vehicle "What A Girl Wants". The story of an unbelievably quirky chick who has never met her father (A Colin, i forget which one) who, also unbelievably, is some kind of British prince or some such. Makeovers, bitchy rivals, heartwarming talks with absent-dad over cocoa puffs ensue. Cockles? Warmed.

ANYWAY, somewhere in the middle, a young brit boy attempts to woo Amanda B. by taking over a party and singing her a rock song. I immediately and with great urgency, turned to Nicole and said "That. Never. Happens."

I knew i had to take it upon myself to keep her from suffering from "Lloyd Dobler Syndrome", the affliction I posses that drives me to teeth gritting whenever a guy DOESN'T hold a stereo over his head when I decide I like him. And where does it start? With that Nazi Walt Disney and his bland fucking entertainment. "Prince Charming". C'mon only an anti-semetic insanity pepper like Walter could come up with that shit.

Nicole immediately gave me a little sass, replying "It Could!". "No," I reiterated, "it won't.". Then I sent her to bed. It was 6pm.

Perhaps now she will settle for a non-romantic with alot of money, as so many of us should. I have averted the inevitable, as now she will not search out her Lloyd and spent most of college weeping as so many of us do, when trenchcoat wearing sad-eyed gentlemen don't wander into her life, but I can rest assured that I have squashed all romantic notions.

Imagine, my pretties, (and this applies to both men and women, Romanticism is hardly gender specific) that a gorgeous aunt, raven haired and well dressed, swopped down upon you at the end of Pretty In Pink and informed you that Molly Ringwald is FAKE, Andrew McCarthy is weird, Duckie is the obvious match for bucktooth girl in ugly dress, and James Spader is hot wether he was the bad guy or not. Perhaps high school would've been different? Perhaps you would never have had a broken heart? Can't help but wonder how things would be different if John Hughes never paired up The Psycho and The Jock.

I continue to hate Walt, as it's his fault that Prince's are thought to be charming, but Nicole is now steeled against the various assholes and douchebags sure to plague her young adulthood (at 10 she is already alarmingly beautiful).

I told her the easter Bunny still loves her, though.

2006-09-20T14:31:00.000-05:00

Wow...something made me happy.

Like any Urban Hipster not living in a dark cave, I have seen the OK Go video for "Here it Goes Again". I chortled and promptly sent it to the part of my brain reserved for things my psyche decides I do not need, like my times tables and friend's birthdays. Over the course of the summer, I remained faithful to my other hipster obsession We Are Scientists (seriously, go to their website, they are so much smarter than Bono.)

However, upon my 10 millionth perusal of "Best Week Ever" (whew alot of name dropping today), I stumbled upon Ok Gos video again. And...I am obssesed.

For those of you unable or unwilling to be brought to YouTube by my link, the video unfolds thusly: Four guys on eight treadmills. Choreographed. They walk and jump and skip and so forth in such a way as to make one want to dial up QVC and put eight treadmills on finance and enjoy an afternoon of falling on one's face, happily losing teeth in an effort to be a fraction as cool. Ok Go, however, doesn't fall. The video is a single continuous shot with a stationary camera, so no tricks and no edits.

Undoubtedly, it was a painstaking process to come up with the moves and execute them properly. At some point a few of the boys jump onto the handlebars of the treadmills and jump off violently. I have half a demented mind to show this to schoolchildren, just to see what hilarious pratfalls ensue. Come on, dangerous exercise machinery + kids = funny!

Furthermore? The lead singer? Is. Smoking. Hot. Of course only I could fall for a Boston educated floppy haired skinny dude in a band. He's like Seth Cohen V2.0.

I am doomed to repeat myself over and over and over....
(it should be brought to all's attention that the not very hot guy lip synching in the video is NOT the singer. He is Tim, the bassist. Lead singer is Damien, the one in the red pants.)

Anyway, I have spent the better part of my (recently unemployed) day watching this video. And then watching it again. There is something calmly mesmerizing about 4 dudes wandering across the landscape of alternating treadmills in such a way as to make them look like they are swimming. Into my heart. And just when I couldn't stands no more...I went to YouTube and found their performance of the very same act LIVE at the MTV VMAs!

4 dudes, endangering life, limb, and certainly floppy hair, in front of P Diddy and the universe. I want to settle into a 5 way love nest, perpetually screaming "OK Go!!" as they bring me to whole nebulas of happiness.

This video may have unlocked the cold metal armoire that resides beneath my ribcage, encasing a dead stone formerly called a Heart.

Oh wait, Lindsay Lohan didn't get hit by a truck today?
< end happiness >

2006-09-14T20:41:00.000-05:00

Career Meltdown Reached (Hers, not mine)

Well, it official. The public as a whole cares nothing for Britney Spears anymore.

Case in point: She had a baby. Chica had a BABY for god's sake! Another heir to the throne of empty Cheetos bags and spare tires. And? No. One. Cared. Not AOL, not Yahoo News, not even the many many many blogs I troll on a regular basis. How, you ask, did I found out? It was a sidebar in the Long Island edition of Newsday. Along with a picture of BritBrit looking like Ursula from The Little Mermaid. (please picture a jowly young woman with a greasy toothy smile and breasts of unusual proportion)

It was another boy, as yet unamed. And no one cares.

But why not? We collectively yearn for the implosion of her marriage, drool over her steady downfall to hell in a handbasket of hair extensions, and buy magazine whose cover she graces semi-naked and kind of ickily preggers. And the culmination of it all stirs not a single member of the press. I even watched The View today, those possessed clucking chickens that sound like tea kettles, and even those prying harpies didn't mention it! God dammit I wasted 15 minutes of life on The 4 Dyke-ateers!

What now? She can't sing for fear of popping her stiches (well, she couldn't anyway, but you get it), and assuming she's still doing her own make-up and swiffering her own cottage floor, she may not sing for a long time.

Jesus. She was everything! She was the cutest thing ever! Justin, Rolling Stone, GQ, MTV! All hers!

SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU HAVE KIDS!?

It's true. It wasn't K-Fed, it was the babies. We would have been delighted to watch her drop wine glasses and strip on table tops and publicly fuck her boyfriend (don't deny it, you'd buy that issue of USweekly for SHIZ.), but the babies, as amusing as it is to see them bruised and bounced and hurled off ten story buildings, are boring.

She was America's Sweet Piece of Ass, he America's Sweet Piece Of Ass' Stubbly Plaything.

The babies? They're just babies.

Here's hoping at least one of them is The Omen or something.

Hit My Baby One More Time,
Rosa

2006-09-14T20:38:00.000-05:00

I'm Crunchy.

My confession...
I went to Whole Foods and visited a vegan restaurant all in one day.
Not a typical Rosa evening, I assure you. Usually I read alot. And eat red meat.
More of a right leaning liberal, what with my hate of all races and colors and creeds and all (Rosa- An equal opportunity hater).

But today, my pretties, I was feeling...crunchy. Do not ask me to explain. Perhaps it was some kind of protein deficiency or early onset osteoperosis. I am, truth be told, normally rather healthy. When everyone else at works gets 5 donuts and a grande full fat cappucino i am eating hummus and drinking water. Because i LIKE it that way, mind you, not because I love God's smelly dumb animals or hate fur. I like fur. On me.
Kill it, i'm cold.

I digress.

Have you ever been to Whole Foods? Allow me to explain, backwater Myspace friends. Whole Foods is crunchy. It sells such things as 7 dollar granola in a hand made hemp sack, organically grown-cruelty free toothpaste and, or course, tofu. Especially tofu. There is alot of tofu.

Not to be labeled too crunchy, they also carry high end stuff such as good quality (eye poppingly expensive) olive oil and fresh sushi and organic veggies (which do, admittedly, put Stop and Shop produce to absolute crushing shame.)

As KMart in Manhattan is a tiny cousin to a massive MegaKMart in Cowtown, Kansas, Whole Foods in Chelsea or thereabouts ain't got nuthin on the one in Redbank, NJ. First of all, it's so massive as to induce vertigo. The Olive Oil ALONE take up ONE WHOLE AISLE! OF OLIVE OIL! Come on now that's muy awesome.

Upon entering the gleaming bastion of pleasant supermarket employees (believed to be extinct in the outside world) sporting dreadlocks in blonde hair (should absolutely be banned everywhere but Jamaica) you are greeted with 6 dollar jars of organic natural cruelty free peanut butter. From whence is the cruelty removed? Who cares? It's 6 dollars! It must be LUXURY peanut butter!

It's not. There's a thin layer of oil on top and the whole thing makes you wonder if you had dropped the full jar into some wet sand.

Well, maybe the macoroni and cheese that is "organic" will taste lighter and less like death then Kraft.

It doesn't. Mac and cheese is fake, i don't care how many pictures of grass you put on the box. If my cheese is powdered, you have done something to make it so, and you used a machine and some kind of lab now SHUT UP and go protest something.

5 dollars for 6 "natural" marshmallows?

Ok those were TOTALLY worth it, but that's candy. Candy is fructose laden and good for the soul, no matter how many dolphins do or do not die to bring it to you.

But a whole aisle of olive oil? Do you people understand that given an earlier birth year i could BE Rachel Ray? I have a love affair with good quality ingredients, and olive oil that is 15 bucks per ounce is made for ME! I will roast red peppers, sizzle up some pork chops, begin a nice risotto....oh olive oil, would that you were cheaper so that I could cover myself in you...

Um.

I digress.

So, Whole Foods? Fun because I love to food shop, not so fun because all the stuff tasted the same or worse than less expensive yet no less healthy ingredients from Grand Union.

On to the restaurant. "Down To Earth" it is called. A zagat rated vegan/vegetarian place located in the heart of achingly cute Redbank. The sidewalks are paved with red brick! (I am easily swayed by charm. Ask any boy who's spoken to me)

Our menu was as follows:

Potato Skins to share
Portobello Mushroom Sandwich for him
Vegetarian Lasagna for me

The potatoes were, in fact, potatoes. I do not know if they were ever treated cruelly, but they seemed to have been baked in a humane way. Not humane, however, was the bacon. No, Virginia, it was not bacon. It was "tempeh bacon".

Fuck your mother.

But i was in a vegan place. I brought it on myself. We did enjoy the skins but most peculiar was the fact that we were filling up very quickly. Odd, shouldn't these things free the conservative side of your soul to decend into hell thus making your whole body feel lighter?

My escort for the night only recently developed a taste for mushrooms, so the portobello was rather lost on him, but I found the lasagna to be surprisingly good. Save for the abomination of this land called "gluten free pasta". It tastes very very similar to run of the mill Barilla, but once cooked to anything past perfect "al dente" it falls apart. God invented gluten for THIS PURPOSE! Gluten makes your cookies chewy, your pizza crusts bubbly, your pastas STAY TOGETHER.

Don't start that some people are allergic to that kind of thing. They should've been left by the side of a mountain as babies in the first place so as to rid the earth of "gluten free pasta"!

I digress...

There was no cheese in the lasagna, it was replaced with good quality soft tofu which had been treated with some kind of herbed mixture so as to make it rather tasty. I enjoyed it.

We did, however, leave without dessert.

Most peculiar was the clientelle of these two fine establishments: Frighteningly skinny people with stern looks on their faces. One waitress was boasting that she posted her "Rasing your child Vegan" Instructional short on YouTube. (P.S, stupid, YouTube is so ubiquitous I think there is video of Lincoln's assasination on there).

Oily peanut butter, 10 dollar toothpaste, crumbly pasta, mediocre cheese, boring soft drinks, 7 (SEVEN!) different textures of tofu...it does not make for a happy life, does it?

So, vegans, I tried. but your lifestyle so totally sucks. You see those sharp things in your mouth? Those teeth you saw the last time you pretended to smile? Those are made for tearing into flesh. I like tofu. I like smoothies. I adore olive oil. I hate the president. Can't we simply get along based on those common factors? MUST you hate me for my fur and my hamburger.

Tell you what. I will starve you, vegan dredheaded skinny person, for 2 days. Not so much that you'll die, you see. Just enough to make you realize what hunger is. Then, i will put two things in front of you.

Plate 1- a lightly roasted firm tofu with soba noodles in a sesame sauce
Plate 2 - one bite (ONE bite i say!) of medium rare filet mignon.

Your brain will know what to do.

Im'a go have some ice cream with gluten in it. And dolphins.
Peace!

2006-09-14T20:37:00.000-05:00

What is WITH us??

Our Generation, that is. A generation i had previously held in highest regard, for being the most gay (Queerness being less of a stigma and more of a social commodity, akin to owning Louis Vuitton luggage), the most feminist (to a fault, even), the most political (arguably), I suddenly and without pause realized today: I am either caught between generations or you all everybody are skin crawlingly immature.(Forwarning: I mean this only in a Fashion sense)

To wit:

I may, in the near future, have a wedding to go to (I am not cutely alluding to mine own, fear not) and decided with set jaw to find a dress that costs more than 30 dollars, is made of real materials, and does not come from a place that is near another place that sells "ice cream from the future".

Being the lazy ass my baby boomer parents raised, I went straight to my teacher and lover, The Internet.
........And all I found were "logo tees", "terrycloth hoodies", "camis" (boys, that is the tank top your girl wears under one of those whoreish see-through tops that usually ends up on your floor) and of course, slut underwear.

Seriously, I've long ago resolved myself to cotton underthings (to the surprisingly massive delight of both male friends and my washing machine alike). The rest of my peers seem to think rayon underwear with monkeys and duckies and butterfly jewels on the ass triangle part that sticks out of your whore jeans are all acceptable. But I digress.

I flashed with lividity at the websites that were NOT HELPING ME.

I mean, I just wanted a pretty dress and had to wade through Paul Frank monkey head socks and Hello Kitty wallets. And when I did see a link on certain sites to "dresses" I was lead to a place of either obscene (even for ME) cleavage-baring-synthetics or hipster button down courdoroy jumpers.

What REALLY brings me to my usual exasperation? I went to the site of a very expensive clothing line, Anthropologie, and found a beautiful dress (for $300...still sitting on that one) and decided to occupy myself with some tops whilst thinking about making the purchase. I scanned over the link list again and again, not finding "tops" or even "shirts", refusing to believe this place wouldn't sell me a nice long sleeved sweater or some such. And then I realized...the link was marked "Blouses". I have never, in my life, refered to anything on my torso as a "blouse". I have never found a catalog geared towards my born in the 80s noggin with "blouses" in the table of contents.

Or COURSE it's a fucking blouse! That is the true fashion term for it! Not a "tee"! Forever, these items have been marketed to us as "tops"!! Because we are STUPID! Because we have been CODDLED in our little fashion world! The 80s kids learned to sew, the 90s kids went vintage! Our style icons include Britney "I'm Country" Spears, Ben "I'm so lazy my girlfriends dress me" Affleck and Christina "I even DRESS like I have herpes" Aguilera.

My God...my mom was right...my belly is over-bared...

We are totally the worst! Who else but Generation Y would, without irony, wear a "Free Martha" t-shirt to an AIDS Awareness walk (seen on NY1, not kidding)?

What is WITH us?? What of our FUTURE??

Think on it: Your look in your 20s and 30s is pretty much what you stick with for the rest of your life. The grandmas with mile high blue hair and voluminous "blouses" are holdovers from the early 1960s. Your mom probably does that blow dried teased bangs thing she perfected in her 1986 heyday.

Will I be wearing an ironic t-shirt and chuck taylors to my adopted daughter's high school graduation? Hair pin straight, jeans low at the waist? Or, worse, a $40 polyester dress bought at the shop next door to Auntie Anne's Pretzels?? Sheesh. I shiver.

Let us get together, ersatz goths, the second wave of metal heads, the greasy haired hipsters, the very last of the potheads to enjoy Sublime, and buy a nice coat. If I see one more of you cats with a CBGBs shirt on, I may remove my own head.

The dress? Remains unbought (here it is though: http://www.anthropologie.com/jump.jsp?itemID=11727&itemType=PRODUCT&iSubCat=297&iMainCat=17 ) but I just couldn't let a blog go unblogged. I leave you,

Straddling the gap between "Cute" and "Chic",
R.A.D.

(Editors note: I bought a kimono instead...so much for growing up. Gonna go play Geisha now. SAKE!!)

2006-09-14T20:35:00.000-05:00

Paris Hilton has hurt me again. No, she didn't give me herpes (not yet, anyway. I imagine her particular strain can be contacted by touching clothes she once looked at). She actively and often makes my very bone marrow hurt with her stupidity, vapidity, and hooker sensibilities. This time, I feel I should take her to court for mental distress.

Her exact words, as seen in US Weekly*:

"There's nobody in the world like me. I think every decade has an iconic blonde including Marilyn Monroe or Princess Diana and right now I'm that icon."

what.

I feel my blood pressure rising. My very blood cells are jumping beans of lividity.

First of all, every decade? Blondes don't even exist in the wild before 1920. Queen Elizabeth was a well documented redhead, Cleopatra a brunette. Mary Pickford, perhaps the first movie star, had brown hair. So the whole "blonde icon" thing doesn't hold much water. Let us assume she means every generation she can remember exists. I'm sure she thinks Hilton Hotels came into existence along with the rest of the universe in a Big Bang that took place sometime in 1946.

Secondly, Marilyn was a shrewd business woman who knew EXACTLY who to sleep with. A multi faceted and troubled creature in possession of a melancholy, beauty and sex appeal not seen before or since. Princess Diana was an icon of stature and poise, certainly known more for her philanthropy and class than her hair color. Both women were sadly and tragically taken well before their time was up.

Paris is an ugly cum-guzzling whore who should have, by all means, died in a snuff film at age 14.

Furthermore, whose icon does this bitch really think she is? She hangs out with Trust-Fund-Baby Douchebags and the kinds of girls that drink champagne directly out the bottle while falling off a table in a trendy nightclub. Flashes of blonde actresses and singers infinitely more talented, likable and for God's Sake BETTER LOOKING than ol' Herp here come to mind in an instant. Gwen Stefani, Reese Witherspoon, Rachel McAdams, fuck, even Ashlee Simpson has emerged from the cocoon of her old nose to become smoking hot. Sean Preston Spears Federline is more of an iconic blonde that this...this....thing undoubetly mad with syphilis.

"Nobody in the world like me". Oh yeah? You, you cunt, did a TV show with a girl whose only difference from your stick insect visage was her extra layer of heroin induced fat. THAT'S hot.

What could possibly make her..no..IT..what could make IT think it's an icon?? The fact that she is, perhaps, blonde? Well, we all saw the tape. I suppose her hair color is true enough, but it's that word. "Icon". It drives me up the wall. It is thrown around entirely too much.
Webster's defines Icon as "An important and enduring symbol, an idol."

Madonna, I will reluctantly admit, is an icon. Bob Dylan, Kurt Cobain, Bono, aforementioned Marilyn. All represented their decades and generations through art or style. Watermarks of the height of their particular movements, be it grunge or rockstar philanthropy**.

Could Paris be implying that she is indicative of us all? We are all, here on this particular nook of Myspace, born in the early 80s. The children of Care Bears, Thundercats, Oklahoma City and the first WTC bombing. Could the future generations look back on us and Mademoiselle Hilton with the same eyes through which we see Kurt C and Generation X? Were they truly a pack of flannel shirted mix tape making slackers with dirty hair and babies made out of wedlock? Are we nothing more than a gaggle of blank eyed slaves to fashion and reality TV with ridiculous cars and an over abundance of jewelry?

Um.

Yes.

Bitch has never been more right in her wicked life. How's THAT for an enduring symbol.

Horrifying, isn't it?

* Hey, I was at the beach with my sister and forgot my New York Times Book Review, ok?

** And that, my pretties, is a blog for another time.

2006-06-29T16:59:00.000-05:00

Dear ER,

Hi ER. I know you're busy what with Mostly-Dead people wandering in on their bloody stumps every half hour or so, but we really need to talk.
You and I? We've have some good times. Remember when you revealed to me that Dr. Weaver was a tricked out hobbling muff diver? Or the time Carter proposed to Abby and she went so The Crazy that she almost jumped of the roof? Or how we wept openly together when Dr. Green dropped dead on a beach?
Good times.
But, ER? It must be said...it's time to bail on you.

You see, your time as "The Doctor Show Everyone (and their mother) Watches" is over. We have Grey's Anatomy for that. That show knows how to write a story and take it to a somewhat believable end.
And you?
Not so much.
Because every time something good happens to one of your characters, you ruin it. And I don't mean with a broken relationship or faltering career. I mean you kill their babies, or throw their mentally disabled siblings onto a plane doomed to crash into a speeding train carrying the puppies of other formerly happy characters. It's become tiresome, really. In the past 11 years, your hospital has been shot up 3 times, seen 4 broken marriage proposals, 2 homicidal stabbings, 3 fatal car crashes, and the addition of John Leguizamo.
But I held on, ER! I suffered through the completely unnesseccary "Hasty African Surgeries" season, with Dr Croatian Guy as my only solace, only to have you reward him with (whiny insufferable, please comb your hair PLEASE) Abby, and reward the rest of us with NO CARTER.

BOOO.

AND THEN!? Abby gets PREGNANT? Wait..is that....why is there an anvil constantly over Abby's head now? Oh...is it because you will inevitably KILL HER? Season 1,096 ended with preggers Abby bleeding from the woman place, unconscious, with Dr Croatian Guy tied to a gurney, unable to speak because he was intibated, somewhat roughly, at the behest of his ex girlfriend/nurse's criminal ex-husband who brought the 3rd annual shot gun gallery to the lobby and shot JERRY, who was the only tolerable character left and....
......I can't possibly go on.
You, ER, are ridiculous. I tolerated Dr. Susan's quasi-romance with a dying 15 year old cancer patient. I sat before you, teeth gritted, when Sally from Third Rock From The Sun, appeared for 5 episodes for no discernable reason. I primly accepted Dr. Benditlikebeckham being shoved down my throat, though I didn't like it (I refuse to like her god dammit, she's as stiff as the botoxed forehead of Paula Abdul! I fucking refuse and I don't care how many times you kill her husband!). Most painful of all, I silently chewed my popcorn when, and I cannot capitalize this enough, A HELICOPTOR FELL ON A DOCTOR WHO HAD HIS ARM CHOPPED OFF BY A DIFFERENT HELICOPTER NOT 10 MONTHS BEFORE.

A DIFFERENT HELICOPTOR!

KILLED HIM!

But another dead baby? One is almost funny, but two?
Let's not be gauche.

I hope things continue to go as marginally well as they have, but I have to tell you: Dr McDreamy's got it all over George Clooney, and the world knows it. Your days, Lesbian-Arm-Chopping-Croatian-CrazyHaired Nurse-Havin-Desperate-"Celebrity"GuestStar Courtin-Show, are numbered.

Best of luck,
Rosa

P.S.- And if it's not too much trouble, give my number to Dr. Rockstar, could you?

2006-06-29T16:57:00.000-05:00

As always, my general and passing interest in the pseudo hipster volume that is The New York Times Magazine has made me angry. Not angry at The NY Times, of course. Even though they will probably back Hillary Clinton (again) and cause me to cancel my subscription (again) because she is a quacking bleeding heart with a vengeance agenda against her cum-gushing husband and the city of New York in general as she lobbies to have truck yards built in residential neighborhoods to "reduce Manhattan traffic" and...

Wait...Not why I am angry..

Let me put it this way: If you found out the Milk companies of America where involved in a shadowy and deep rooted agenda to get you, your friends, your children, and everything you love to buy milk, at any cost, for the rest of your life; if it is revealed that Big Milk was putting cancer causing bacteria into the cows, not caring because this bacteria also caused the ultimate drinker to come back for more; if, suddenly, the Milk scandal ran so deep as to cause a multi-billion dollar class action suit in every state; IF MILK KILLED YOUR MOTHER, what would you do?
You'd start dipping your lady fingers in soy milk, thats what you'd fucking do.

Instead, Americans, in droves of idiot millions, continue to actually cut their own throats open and pour delicious, carcinogeous white death milk into their tracheotomy holes.

I trust the point is across.

Now, the fact that cigarette smoke kills you is, of course, the knowledge of a fool. But what most fools don't know is that, aside from Anna Nicole Smith backed glamour drugs like Trimspa, etc, ciggs are the only mass produced, readily available drug (shut your fool mouth, it is a drug.) NOT regulated by the FDA. If milk came straight from the cow's boob, brown and steaming with cow love, would you drink it? (I don't know man, I'm really liking the Milk analogy too much, yes?)

Even less known is the fact that, once the mid 90s Big Tobacco Attack died down, nearly half the states in the union were suddenly promised settlement money from Phillip Morris. "Wrongful death" statewide suits and all. And what truly, truly sucks about that is not that Philly More got the sandbags, but that now the states are greedy for that money, which rolls in every year, meaning they won't back bills or suits saying that the Coffin Nails we as a nation so love should be FDA regulated, because that means Marlboros get sold like heroin through a crack in the door at the kew motor Inn, and the states? They don't get their money anymore, and they wants flowers around city halls and zoos filled with famous pandas and to knock down that ol' cracked up Liberty Bell to make way for a new WalMart god dammit.

An old balding man says pasta sucks and suddenly the US of A at large is eating bunless burgers by the truckload.

A slightly younger balding man yells at a woman for spoiling her kids and his books sell trillions.

The company that makes your Virginia Slims says, in statements, under oath, and on the INTERNET (where everything is true) that cigarettes will kill the user. That they are addictive, ON PURPOSE. That they set out to get you from age 10. But still you go get your loosey*.

Still you pay ridiculous taxes.
Still you blacken from the inside out.

If Parmalat executives came to your house and raped you, would you eat dry cornflakes the next morning?

*loosey: from the Ghetto speak for a single cig from the a-rabs at the bodega.

2006-06-29T16:52:00.000-05:00

Some of you more intelligent souls may hate me for it, but I love watching Britney "The Baby Bruiser" Spears ruin her fool life.

I, of course, am speaking of "Matt Lauer Made Me Cry: Mrs. Spears-Federline Edition."

I laughed. I laughed. God how I laughed. The general implosion of the career-slash-beauty of this obviously peroxided blonde in daisy dukes has me nothing less than positively riveted.
Jarring from the first second, it appeared the richest 23 year old on earth didn't brush her hair, wear anything remotely flattering, or even consult a mirror before being interviewed on THE MOST WATCHED NEWS MAGAZINE SHOW IN AMERICA. Does she not care? As if all that weren't enough: She preggers. So totally very impregnated with white trash sperm and cheetos dust. I implore you to find the trashiest looking girl on the block. Now, add a baby belly. That alone ups the garbage quotient by 400Àapproximately. Now put her in an embarrasingly tit baring top, leaning over, violently chewing gum, flapping her flip flop against her dangling heel. Sweet Virgin, I'm speechless over her!
I say nothing, but "!!!??" appears over my head.
This is not a pop-princess: This is a Target cashier in Boring, Kentucky on her smoke break, talking on her nextel two way with Joey-Bob, her brother-cousin, wondering whether daddy is gonna come home tonight with KFC, or will be blow the week's wages on Wild Turkey, shotgun rounds, and bats for beating fags, as he so often does.

Most are happy just to watch her cry (uglily, might I add), buy another USWeekly, and laugh again next time she throws her baby off an escalator, but I truly wonder: what made her this way??
Rich, pretty, vaguely talented, she is (was) the American Dream. Dating the male version of herself, things seems poised to go on in the same fashion for another 5 years or so. Alas, Justin somehow found an even dumber blonde to fuck, the prettiness fades every second, and the vague talent...well..it's vague.

She's alluded to the fact that her mother was somewhat over-protective, but I, for one, vote for MOLESTATION. Come on now, we never see her dad, never hear about extended family members, and Jamie-Lynn, The Sister-Clone, is safely holed away on her own Disney Channel show. Brit-Brit married early (let us not forget the 2001 52 hour Vegas nuptials), and then married early AGAIN, to what can only be described as a doomed human being with a goatee. I've read more than my fair share of memoirs, and anyone who marries and spawns so early was escaping less-than-wholesome family problems. Drunk daddies, drugged up mommies, touchy uncles, they all but shove a girl into the arms of an innapropriate man. Bruised babies and cut-off jeans simply come with the territory.

Perhaps, as a whole, America should be gentler with our former Queen? For a young lady doesn't slit the very wrists of her professional career just for a doomed human being with a goatee.

I imagine that some time in the 2010's, charms long gone, Mrs. Spears Federline Cruise Jolie-Pitt Terwilliger, finally alone, (save for her 6 kids) will, at long last, release the autobiography of the century, "Oops, I Dropped My Baby Again". A heartbreaking story of how she should've just NOT cheated on Justin Timberlake, NOT made a tv show about what a sex starved hooker she is, NOT starred in a movie that 3 people saw (John and Michael Hernandez, Tivoli Economu) and maybe, just maybe, spent her money on a publicist instead of 3,000 pairs of cowboy boots. I am convinced it is these things (especially the boots) that put her on the path to becoming un-kempt Mansion-Trash.

Also? Through the entire Dateline interview? She had a huge clump of mascara over her right eye.

Gentler with her? A mizundastood young girl? My ass, Matthew Lauer! Kelly Clarkson is WAY cooler than this bitch!

Britney Countdown to Career Death:
147 Days: 17 Hours: 58 Minutes: 24 seconds.