April 28, 2006

"The Girl Who Is Going To the Moon"

This was the mid-season episode of "America's Next Top Model" meant to get any new-comers up-to-date. ANTM Cliff Notes, I guess. Frankly, there was way too much old footage and not enough new. I won't recap the whole thing -- just give you some highlights.

We open with a voiceover from Tyra about how hard modeling is, while we get footage of her in various Victoria's Secret runway shows. Shameless self-promotion. I'm surprised she didn't include clips from her talk show.

Janice tells Brooke, "You need to groom yourself a little bit more." Hee! Mean, but true.

Apparently, there are photos from Nigel's modeling days in the ANTM house, and the girls are drooling over them. Funny I never noticed those photos before.

Kathy squeals over finding Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup in the ANTM pantry because she luuuuuuuuuuuves chicken noodle soup. Kathy who? Yes, exactly.

Jade tries to tell someone how to spell "etcetera." E-X-Z-E-D-E-R-A. Um, Jade? READ. A. BOOK.

Danielle gets her moustache waxed. Ouch. Hee! Fem-stache!

Joanie reads Furonda's Rules in a Furonda accent, while Furonda laughs her ass off. I love these two. Can Tyra please produce a spin-off where these two are roommates and trying to make it on their own in the big city?

So tired of Jade's butt-cheeks-and-pashmina look.

Joanie says of her, "She says she's not from this planet. I think I believe her." Furonda chimes in with, "I think she's bi-polar." Do you think they'd come to my house for a sleepover?

Jade says, "I am America's Next Top Model. Reconize!" *sigh* Reconize. I wonder if Jade would reconize a dictionary, if I showed one to her. Or any book, really.

Kari confesses to the girls that she was really fat as a little girl and looked just like Miss Piggy. They show some photos, and she's not entirely exaggerating. Altho' she's still cute as a basket of puppies.

Gina bites. And I don't mean that Gina sucks or Gina is mean. I mean she literally bites. People. On their bodies. As a sign of affection. Clip montage of her chewing on Danielle like a McNugget. Joanie goes, "What page are you on, honey?" Have I mentioned that I love Joanie?

The girls sit around on their beds talking about how they can't believe Kari was sent home instead of Gina. In front of Gina. And Gina agrees with them. Gina, can you introduce Jade to Reality, please?

Interview of Jade saying, "I don't like drama. I come with humbleness." I have never heard such blatant lies in my life. Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhate Jade.

Gina and Jade fight. Jade, of course, assumes Gina is intimidated by her beauty. Gina goes, "I'm intimidated by your ignorance!" Hee! Doesn't really make sense, but I like it. Joanie tells Gina she's proud of her, and I think we all know how I feel about Joanie.

Oh. Clip of Gina talking smack about Jade to the male models. Somehow, that strikes me as uncool. I mean, sure, the other girls know what's going on because they're all in the same house. But did she really have to drag outsiders into it?

N4 tries to tell us that she was thinking of her boyfriend when she was kissing the male model. HA! If anything, she was thinking, "Man, he's a way better kisser than my boyfriend! Quieter, too!"

Jay stops by the ANTM house for breakfast and is appalled by the smell. Yeah, these girls are PIGS. He makes them clean up a bit, and then he leaves, telling them he'd rather get breakfast at the drive-thru. One of the girls whispers that Jay is obsessive-compulsive. Because he thinks the kitchen shouldn't smell like rotting food. Danielle and Joanie clean the kitchen, so of course I'm inviting Danielle to my sleepover, too.

We see Jade's Cover Girl commercial again, where Jay calls her a drag queen and she drops the F-Bomb. Good times. Have I mentioned that I hate Jade? Cuz I really do.

Furonda imitates N4 on the phone. "John. I didn't... John. Why can't... John. John! John!" Pure. Awesome.

Then the real N4 and John are on the phone, and he whips out such classics as, "Baby, I'm your love punching bag," and, "You're sending me to an emotional grave." Because pathetic whining is such a turn-on.

We see the post-Krump photo shoot Krump dance contest, where people are "served" and they "bring it." I'm unclear as to what the rules to this contest are exactly, but I'm pretty sure there are no winners.

We then get a montage of Jade making up words. "Dwelve." "Withhandle." "Derrogativeness." "Considerating." "Brunetteness." And one I wrote down that I can't decipher, for obvious reasons.

Danielle doesn't know what a marionette is and finds out from Jay. Then she's all like, "Why couldn't he just say 'puppet with strings'? Then I'd know exactly what he's talking about. Why does he have to get all fancy and say marionette? Who says marionette?"

Joanie uses the dummy to voice her lust for Nigel Barker. Joanie has found an outlet. She loves the dummy and wants to take it home.

More dentistry! Yeah, cuz that's what the show was missing.

Danielle messes with Jade while Jade is under the teeth-whitening lamp. She uses the little spit-suction thing to suction Jade's head. Hee!

And that's pretty much it. We never really find out which girl is going to the moon or why.

Posted at 01:41 PM | Comments (1)

Caddyshake

Uh-oh. Queen of Ass posted the 900th comment.

Ask away, bay-bee!

Posted at 09:42 AM | Comments (1)

April 27, 2006

"The Girl Who Is a Model, Not a Masseuse"

I think that proclaiming that any girl in "America's Next Top Model" is a model is kinda pushing it, but I understand they needed a title for this episode, and they probably couldn't say "The Girl Who Is an Arrogant Twat", so whatever.

We open to see Jade and N4 bonding. Because no one else likes them, so they have to. Furonda is digging on her recent successes and drawing motivation from them. Chick is still ugly, but I like her.

Danielle is pissed about Tyra's objection to her tooth-gap. "It's like, I choose to fix the gap, or I choose to go home." Oooooh, foreshadowing!

They meet with Rachel from some P.R. firm who tells them the Do's and Don't's of interviewing. She hits on N4's cheating-on-boyfriend issue "completely by accident," and N4 is flustered. Yeah, like anything on this show isn't scripted. We're totally buying it, Tyra.

Some big, black guy named George is going to interview -- i.e. insult -- the girls. Didn't we just see this?

Jade talks about how versatile, and George asks her what's with the head wrap. He goes, "You look like an arrogant bitch to me." Yeah, cuz Barbara Walters would totally say that. And Jade counters with, "I'm an exotic, bi-racial butterfly." George and I are both mildly amused.

Danielle confesses to being "stubborn and cantankerous." He asks her to spell cantankerous, and she can't. But at least she doesn't effing make up words like Jade does! "Dwelve"?!?!?

George tells Sara to let down her hair or something, and then tells her he doesn't get a "sexy" vibe from her. Yeah, I totally saw Oprah do this once with Halle Berry. And Sara goes, "But is my hair pretty?" Cute! Even George must confess that it is.

George asks Furonda if she's The Queen of Sheba, and Furonda goes, "I don't even know where Sheba is!" He and I share a laugh over this. I love her, even when she's stupid. She's quite charming.

N4 answers that her best feature is her smile. And George tells her that she's "a gazelle and a snob." N4 is taken aback, but I'm glad someone finally called her on it.

George gives his assessment of the girls. And can I just ask -- what the hell are his credentials? Isn't he just Tyra's chauffer? C'mon, lady, fess up. We know he's no interviewer. He's just a dick.

Danielle needs to improve her speech. Joanie is "special" and "the truest." He says of Jade, "a little humility goes a long way."

N4 was "good but snobby." And somehow she wins. Even though Joanie charmed the pants off George. Now tell me this shit isn't rigged. Jesus Christ on a cracker.

N4 picks Jade as her guest, again, and the other girls are totally over seeing these bitches win. The winners get a spa treatment, and the losers have to cater to them. God is dead, people.

Danielle discusses The Tooth-Gap Issue with Sara and Joanie. To their credit, they are afraid to give any advice one way or another, lest it look like they have ulterior motives. Danielle then calls her Mom, who tells her it's call, but wisely cites The Parable of Cassandra, in which the beauty pageant queen was sent home for hanging onto her last inch of hair.

Danielle goes for it, and in a procedure that blessedly requires no blood, the dentist gives her two slightly bigger front teeth, so that her gap is much smaller. And she's cool with it. Smart girl.

Sara is on the phone with her boyfriend discussing her re-occurring theme. Found in mall, desire in question, must show them, blah blah blah. And her boyfriend is both supportive and funny! Jealous, N4?

The girls are at dinner in some... vaguely middle-eastern-themed setting. A drag queen enters, dressed like Tyra. People, it's uncanny. Then Tyra comes in, and they argue about who is the real Tyra, when we all know that the current Tyra is an alien who ate the real Tyra years ago.

They both claim to be "Ty Ty" (ugh) and yell and get all up in each other's face. Unfortunately, there was no ripping off of wigs. And it's all an elaborate way of telling the girls they'll be going to Thailand.

Get it? Ty-land?

*cricket* *cricket*

Yeah.

Anyway, it's cool, and Joanie goes, "I've only been to Canada!" Hee!

Montage of the girls packing their stuff, and Jade stealing gumballs out of a big jar. 'Cuz they don't have gum in Thailand. And Jade is cheap. Furonda interviews that N4 is the one to beat, so she'll be stepping up her game.

And the girls are off to Bangkok! (Bang-cock! Hee! I'm twelve!)

They're picked up at the airport in some super-custom pink van that immediately makes me think of the Pussy Wagon from "Kill Bill: Vol 1." (Why aren't there more photos of this legendary vehicle on the internet?)

Joanie and Sara try learning some of the language on the plane, which is totally awesome in its un-American-ness. Furonda is excited that she has 3,000 baht to spend, but some captioning tells us that that's only about $77. D'oh!

The hotel is breath-taking, and the girls are greeted with bracelets and wine, instead of as the cheap, dirty whores that they are. Their suite, too, is one they cannot possibly be worthy of. (Ended with a preposition. Deal with it.) I am droooooooooooling over the hardwood floors.

Spa time!

N4 is quite taken with herself and calls herself "outstanding." Barf. Sara and Danielle are in charge of giving Jade and N4 their bath. In the same tub. Naked. Danielle's not to happy about that. Yeah, that's gonna be The Bathtub Ring From Hell.

Furonda isn't happy about having to touch N4 for her massage. I think she has a touch-phobia. She rubs N4's calf with one finger. Awesome. Joanie, on the other hand, is trying to be mature and take it seriously. Furonda goes to wash her hands for four hours.

Tyra Mail! Something about "getting some tail," and the girls theorize they'll be working with more male models. They wish. I'm sure it's animals. Preferably carnivorous.

But no. The girls are to be mermaids, and I'm kinda jealous 'cuz I want to be one. But when I see they are hung upside down in a net with dead fish over some stinky canal, I'm over it. It's for Banana Boat suntan lotion. Reeeeeeeeaaally scraping the bottom of the barrel for sponsors, aren't we, Tyra?

Danielle is totally hilarious in this part. First, she's afraid that one of the dead fish is a piranha and doesn't want her neck bitten. By the... undead, vampire piranha... I guess?

Then, as they're loading her into the net, she's like, "Is that fish juice I just felt on my leg? I just threw up in my mouth a little bit." And then, when in the harness, "My uterus is flat as a pancake right now."

Love her.

Danielle is in pain but still awesome enough to earn Jay's gay-love.

N4 bemoans her lack of mermaid-hair, and the rest of the girls try really hard not to gloat at her suckiness.

Jay comments that he's finally seeing Jade's softer side, and Jade says all condescending-like, "I'm listening. I'm learning."

Sara looks like a "scared guppy," which sounds kind of cute, but I don't think Jay meant it cute. Luckily, she improved as the shoot when on.

By the way, Jay is holding a fan this whole time. Like he's Yum-Yum from "The Mikado" or something. GOD, it's irritating.

Furonda complains about feeling like "fish bait."

Joanie is upside down and is like, "I think I'm gonna throw up. Seriously. I just drank a lot of coffee." I'm poised on the edge of my couch to see a model spew chunks, but she pulls it together and goes great.

Afterwards, Jade and N4 interview about how awesome they were at the shoot. Wow, Jade's delusion is contagious. We're all at risk! And Jade actually says, "The world will be upset if we leave." Wow.

At this point, I went to pee, so I missed a little, but I they are at judging, and I think they have to talk and "sell themselves" to the panel.

You know there's nothing Jade loves more than to talk about herself, but her grammar and vocabulary are awful. N4 rambles on and on and on and on and on, failing to recognize the many, many unsubtle hints from the judges to knock it off. Furonda freezes.

By the way, I must comment on what the hell Tyra has done to herself on this particular day. Now, despite all the teasing, I really do think she's a beautiful woman. But her hair do is like Dorothy-Hamill-meets-ski-cap-meets-woven-basket-meets-Mushmouth-from-Fat-Albert. And then tops it off with a yellow muumuu. Fug!

The judges look at the girls' photos.

You'd never know Joanie was upside down and in pain, that's how good she is.

Jade "looks old." Again. She says something about being "portionable." I don't even know what that's supposed to mean. Is she easily cut into portions?

The judges are getting bored with N4, which is ironic because, when it comes to natural beauty, she's tops. I guess personality goes further than some people might think, eh? They play the snob card again, and Twiggy goes, "I think you're just misunderstood, like Jade is sometimes."

Oh, Twiggy. You're a saint. A naive, simpering saint.

They just can't say enough good things about Danielle.

The judges advise Sara not to say, "I'm intelligent" during an interview. Or ever, really. But they like her.

Furonda is "too dressy" today. She wore a sparkly, black dress to panel and gets spanked for it. Wait, didn't Brooke just get the axe for not looking like a model in person? Make up your fucking minds, people!

Deliberations. Here are a few quotable quotes:

Nigel re: Jade -- "She told us not to judge a book by its cover. But sometimes the cover is more interesting than the contents."

Tyra re: Danielle -- "She's the one to watch."

Twiggy re: Jade -- "I'm afraid of her! Don't leave me in a room with Jade!"

Staying: Danielle, Jade, Sara and Joanie. Final two: Furonada and N4.

Furonda has gone from ugly to pretty, N4 has gone from pretty to boring. And snobby.

Furonda stays. Wow. I mean, I'm happy, but that seems to defy some law of nature, no?

Well, so long, snob! Jade is all alone now. Tear.

Next week: Tempers flair. At Jade. Duh. And someone takes a trip to the E.R.! Cool!

Posted at 02:46 PM | Comments (3)

April 26, 2006

Reasons Why Sleeping with Heather Is Better Than Sleeping with Husband

1. The only snoring comes from Daisy.

2. My precious, precious sleep isn't interrupted at 3am by chilly, wandering hands.

3. No farting.

4. I don't have to cling desperately to the covers when she rolls over.

5. Her underwear is much cuter than Husband's.

6. Making the bed in the morning is so easy! We just slip out of the top, and voila! The bed is a neat as before we got in it! Because we don't kick and flail and toss and seizure while we sleep!

* * * * *

And on a completely different note, I have a promise to make to you people.

If/when I ever get a book deal or magazine interview or something because of this blog, I will never, EVER write tedious posts like:

Oh, so sorry I haven't posted in a while! I've been on the phone for hours with my Agent/Manager/Satanic Representative every day lately! My life has been so hectic since I got all discovered and famous, I haven't had any time to pay attention to you, the little people who made me who I am today. Must go -- the photographer is at my door, and then I have a meeting with my editor! Tah-tah!

Vomit.

Yeah, cuz that's entertaining or interesting in any conceivable way to anyone but my Mom.

And yes, I'm bitter, but that's part of my charm.

Just had to get that off my chest.

If my dreams come true, and I get published for realsies one day, I vow not to mention it until it actually happens, and then only once. I'll link to it and be like, "Oh, by the way, here's a book that might not be a huge waste of your time to read." But only at the bottom of a long post about pubic hair grooming.

Posted at 12:30 PM | Comments (3)

April 25, 2006

My Mom Is Gonna Crap

Did you know that the word cunt, which everyone thinks is so vulgar and heinous, is just an acronym? Calling a woman a cunt is a sure way to get your face slapped. And even niggas who will actually say the word nigga will call it "the C-word." And yet, it's as harmless as the word scuba.

Self-contained underwater breathing aparatus.

Can't understand normal thinking.

See? It's just a slang some guy thought he was clever to invent. Get it? 'Cuz women can't think normal? Get it? Oh, how clever!

Really, it's not a word to get upset about. It's a nonsense word. Except when Heather and I are together. Then, we are total cunts.

Seriously, we're completely intolerable when we're together. If I saw us, I would hate us and avoid us at all costs, but first I'd give us dirty looks. We regress and become like those really, really obnoxiously popular high school girls, except with bigger vocabularies for more biting insults. We're just awful.

It's like, normally, Heather and I are well-read, level-headed, diplomatic and witty. But for whatever reason (probably due to some karma from a past life), we try to out-do each other with who can crawl the farthest back into the primordial ooze. It's quite sad.

We went shopping on Saturday, for seven hours, in the swankiest shopping mall in the area. And after we finished one particularly scorching diatribe, during which we referenced Asians, the learning challenged, tan-orexics, dwarves, all foreigners, and anyone who wears tights, I had to call a spade a spade.

PW: Dude, we are total cunts.

H: No, we're not. We're Cuntacular!

PW: Hee! Cuntastic!

H: Cunterrific!

PW: Um... did we already say Cuntactular?

H: Yeah, we started with that one.

PW: Damn. ... Oh! Cunterful!!!

H: HA!

PW: I'm so blogging this.

H: Oh, man, your mom is gonna ground me!

Posted at 01:23 PM | Comments (2)

April 24, 2006

No One Is Safe!

Last night, I changed my Gene Marshall dolls into some warm-weather outfits. And whenever I do that, I call them to Husband's attention, and he humors me with a "very nice," and I'm happy.

But last night... last night was different.

"Yes, very nice," he said.

Then after a second glance, "Oh, those are nice!"

Then he fondled the white skirt of Picnic in the Country, "I love that texture!"

After a pause, he regained his composure and said, "Don't tell anyone I said that."

Posted at 02:39 PM | Comments (4)

April 21, 2006

"The Girl Who Has Surgery"

Thanks to last week's previews, we know that this episode of "America's Next Top Model" is about Joanie getting her snaggletooth fixed, and not about Jade finally getting her man-gina.

We open with contrasting interviews. Joanie says she improving and really psyched about it. Brooke says that she sucks and thinks that she's going home.

Nnenna -- okay, I'm just calling her N4 from now on, cuz NNeNNa is really annoying to type. And listen to. She's on the phone with her boyfriend AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! And they're rehashing the N4-kissed-a-male-model thing AGAIN!!!!!!!!!! And BF is all, "I never accused you of anything! I just missed you, DAMMIT!"

And N4's all, "Well, it sure sounded like you were accusing me." And can I just point out here, N4, that if he was accusing you, HE'D BE CORRECT!

Ugh, I hate those two. They make me use all caps an awful lot.

So the girls go to some ad agency, where Jeff the Assistant collects their portfolios. One by one, they meet with DuPriece (sp?) to go over them and see if she wants to book any of them.

DuP tells N4 that she looks like a transvestite, and boy, is she gonna be freaked out when she sees Jade! She also says that N4 needs to work on her flabby stomach. And I'm like, Dude, that's not cool. She's not fat -- she's bloated because, until a couple weeks ago, she was starving to death in Africa or something.

Then Tyra lets us in on another one of her cruel, drama-inducing jokes to tell us that DuP is really an actress pretending to be a modeling tycoon. And can I just add? This actress is ten times more gorgeous than any of the girls, so it's completely within her rights to tear them apart.

She tells Furonda that she's anorexic. But isn't that supposed to be a good thing in modeling?

DuP tells Danielle that she needs to fix that hug gap between her teeth, and Danielle says, "Thank you." And then she hilarious interviews, "What the hell was I thanking her for?!"

Brooke is too masculine. Joanie is too old. (Again -- wait till you see Jade, DuP.)

DuP actually says to Jade that she looks "like a dude." She doesn't like Jade's nose, and she says that Jade's whole look is too harsh. But before I could don my hootchie skirt and flowered headdress for my Dance of Joy, Jade thwarts my celebration by actually... taking it well. She's all, "Yeah, my look is very harsh, very unique. I have a huge forehead, too."

So... Jade knows she ugly? Huh.

Joanie interviews that Jade so often says harsh things to other people, that she's used to harsh things being said to her. Nice spin, Joanie. And probably at least half-true.

Jade wins because she "owns her look." I'd never win -- I rent my look. Jade's allowed to pick a friend (or in Jade's case, someone who hasn't called her a bitch in the past 15 minutes), and she picks N4. Bitches gotta stick together!

Two enormous packages arrive for Jade and N4. Inside one is Jade's mom, and Jade cries, which would have been better if they were tears of agony instead of joy, but I'll take what I can get.

The other one is John, N4's boyfriend, and I cry tears of agony. Somewhere, Jade is laughing. N4, I'd like to introduce you to Karma. N4 interviews that she was hoping it was one of her sisters inside the box. Awk-waaaaaaaaaaard!

Jade's mom gives her a full-body massage, and Jade voice-overs that her mom "pulls the energy of the universe through her hands," as if this were a completely ordinary and normal thing to say. May the force be with you, Jade.

N4 and John rehash the male model kiss again, as my brain cells leap screaming from my skull. There's a lot of John rubbing N4 while she has her face turned away from him.

Then John goes, "As long as it doesn't happen again."

*cricket* *cricket*

The affirmation he's waiting for doesn't come, even after he prompts her with a, "Huh?"

BWAAAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

For the next day's photo shoot, the girls have to be "brainless, living dolls" with perfect hair for Pantene Pro-V. Have you seen the new commercials for their volumizing products? Oh my God, these girls' hair is out of control! It's HUGE! It's TERRIFYING! It will take over the WORLD!

(Geez, this review is long. Feel free to take a nap.)

Okay, doll assignments:

Joanie - Ventriloquist dummy. She got to have a male model with her, and dude's torso was cut. I don't really know why he had to be shirtless, but I'm not complaining.

Sara - Teen fashion doll (i.e. Barbie). She had a difficult time posing inside a box. Um, okay. I guess the word "difficult" is subjective.

Furonda - Rag doll. Jay Manuel was overjoyed with how she was improvising. She did look adorable, and her set was awesome.

Jade - Mannequin. Eerie. And not in a good way.

Brooke - Glam doll (um, isn't that just another Barbie?). She didn't feel glam. Okay, she's sweet, but I'm tired of her milquetoast whining.

N4 - Baby doll. Okay, this was hilarious. If someone gave me a doll that looked like her, I'd cry. Jay wanted a sweet, happy look on her face, so he kept saying, "Think of your boyfriend! He came to see you! Think of your boyfriend!" And N4 kept looking less and less happy. Apparently, Jay doesn't watch the dailies.

Danielle - Marionette. She was really "feeling it," according to Jay. And whereas normally, feeling wooden would be bad in a photo shoot, it worked for this one. Go figure.

Next, the girls get a trip to the dentist for a teeth-whitening. I wonder if they always do this, or if it's special for this episode? Well, I'm not gonna lose sleep over it.

They want to fix Joanie's snaggletooth and close the gap between Daniell's front teeth. Joanie's folks couldn't afford orthodontia, so she's way excited about having her teeth fixed. I'm totally scared for her because I saw last week's previews and OUCH.

Danielle wants to keep her gap. Now, having had a gap before I got braces, I think she's nuts. I was elated to have my gap closed! But she's owning her gap, I guess, so that's cool. However, it's also a stupid move on her part, considering how pissy Tyra gets when the girls don't follow her orders and change their appearances according to her whims and fancies.

And then they showed Joanie's teeth being pulled outta her head. They showed it! There wasn't even any Parents' Warning at the beginning of the show! This show contains scenes of gross dentistry and shouldn't be viewed by anyone who has ever gone to the dentist. Gah!!!

She's also getting veneers, which means her teeth are filed down to nubs, basically. It's all very medieval and horrifying. I have my hands over my eyes for most of it.

At 3:30 a.m., Joanie says to the camera, fighting back the tears, "I have been in this chair for twelve hours. And I have to get up and model tomorrow!"

Her fears are well-grounded, as she looks like a carnie.

Next -- Club Move. Who names these things? Janice is there! JANICE!!! That crazy bitch is doing her own ANTM spin-off, you know. I CAN'T WAIT!

Oh, and Eva is with her, too. Blech. The girls stand around and ask Eva questions, like, "What's the best advice you can give us?"

And instead of saying, "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" Eva blathers on about confidence. Blah blah boring.

Then comes Janice to talk to them about The Ugly Side of Modeling. And she talks about her alcoholism and feeling guilty when she's not with her kids, and I just so want to hang with her. There isn't anything this woman won't talk about, and I dig that!

Then they have a photo shoot directed by Tyra in which they wear tons of eye make-up and are crying. Only instead of having to whip-up real tears, Tyra rubs a "tear stick" on their eyes, which is akin to Vicks VapoRub. In your eyes.

N4 cried for real. She said she was thinking about her family, but we all know she was still disappointed about having her boyfriend visit her instead of her sister.

Joanie also cries for real, but it's because she just had TWELVE HOURS OF ORAL SURGERY. She is gorgeous and a trooper and I love her more with each passing day. (Mollie Sue who?)

Afterwards, she gets to go back to the dentist and get her veneers on. She looks great! She's so happy, and I'm so happy for her! Group hug!

As she's leaving, the dentist goes, "You know, what you've been through has felled many a large man."

And she's all sassy, "Well, ya gotta be tough to be a model!"

She's my hero.

This is getting ridiculously long. Let's wrap this up.

Brooke interviews that she thinks she's going home because she had another sucky photo shoot. N4 thinks she's going home because she's letting her boyfriend get to her. Awwwww, can't they both be right?

Judging. You can flip through their crying photos on your own.

Furonda is developing well. Unfortunately, this does not mean she has actually grown breasts. Brooke is too nervous and needs too much direction. Joanie's teeth are a work of art. Danielle's shots are beautiful, but her gap-tooth isn't marketable. Jade... oh, it's just too good.

Jade "breaks down" and cries during judging about being in emotional turmoil or whatever. And Tyra TOTALLY CALLS HER ON IT! Tyra's like, "Bullshit! Bad acting!" She even notes that the girls behind Jade were rolling their eyes when she started crying. Burn! Unfortunately, they love her photos.

Sara isn't passionate, but she disagrees -- respectfully -- saying that she has grown more passionate about modeling with every shoot.

N4 has the best crying photo, but the worst doll shot. And honestly, with her wide eyes and toothy grin, I thought N4 would have made the best doll. Tyra asks her if she has "lost focus." And N4 is all, "I never had a baby doll."

Which is probably supposed to tug at our heartstrings, but Tyra pulls out the awesomeness for the second time is all, "Yeah, but you've seen one, right? You know what a baby doll looks like?"

Judges deliberate, and it's more of what we already know they think of the girls, and no quotable quotes because Janice isn't there.

In: Joanie, Furonda, N4, Sara and Danielle. Tyra tells Danielle, in no uncertain terms, that she really should get her gap closed.

Final two: Jade and Brooke. Tyra saw fake tears, arrogance and defensiveness. But it's Brooke that goes home. Know why? I know why. Because Tyra wants to break Jade down. Jade isn't going home until Tyra can tear her apart and make her cry for real. I sense another Mama Tyra Counseling Session coming on.

Brooke is very resigned in her departing interview and doesn't even cry. Also? Her dress is fabulous.

Next week: Sara the Mall Girl has to prove herself. Danielle has to make a decision about her tooth-gap. And the girls pack their bags for... oh, I don't know. Finland?

P.S. Pissy and sucky are not in the Microsoft Spellcheck Dictionary.

Posted at 01:54 PM | Comments (3)

April 20, 2006

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served

Once upon a time, before Disney World and sleep studies, a dear little scamp named Michele was my 800th commenter. She sent me an awesome question, but I've been hesitant to answer it because it's quite possible that the person whom I would have to include in my answer, lurks this blog.

I'm speaking, of course, of that creepy coward, Stalky McClownerson.

This could possibly ruffle his backhairs and provoke him to renew his asshattery....

Enh, fuck it. Here's Michele's question:

I'm a vengeful person when pushed. When an ex-boyfriend (of 8 years) was cheating on me with a multitude of tarts that he met when he worked out of town, I didn't get mad, I got even. I saw in his suitcase one weekend home a large bottle of lotion, and it wasn't the brand we used at home. I knew two things about that lotion: It was going to be used to rub down his tarts, and that he'd used it on himself; or as the DeVinyl's said, "when I think about you I touch myself." So I put in massive amount of cayenne pepper, mixed well... and the next day I got a phone call from a screaming man whose penis was on fire!

My questions to you —- what's the most revengeful thing you've ever done, and did you get caught or confess?

First of all, let me commend you on your penis arson. Well done!

Yes, I have taken revenge. On Stalky. See, the guy I dumped him for ended up being my first husband. But whatever -- Stalky acted like he was the first person in the history of the planet to get dumped for someone else, and that's just gay.

He called me all the predictable names -- slut, whore. Again -- whatever. If finding a muscular Latino guy more attractive than his fat ass makes me a slut, then so be it. I'm a Slut in the First Degree. Let's move on.

Oh, it just occurred to me -- I never told you the WORST stuff he did. I blanked on it until Heather and I were talking about clown-fear one day and how pervasive it is in our society.

So after I dumped Stalky, I started losing my mind. I'd come home from work and be like, "Huh. I thought I had put the blankets away." Or, "I don't remember leaving that bowl out. What was I even using it for?"

For Christmas that year, my cousin had hand-painted a gnome for me. (What? She's an artist; we're Norwegian -- get over it.) I arrived home from work to find the gnome, which normally resided on my bookshelf, standing on top of my television.

I was like, "Now I know I didn't put that there..."

And in a split-second, the whole thing dawned on me. Stalky was coming into my apartment and rearranging stuff, just to fuck with me. Not stealing, no, because that would have required actual balls. Just moving stuff.

But, Wenchie, how could he have gotten into your apartment when the only other people with keys were your parents and your saintly landlord?

One day, months prior, I had lent him my apartment key for some reason or another that made logistical sense at the time. It made sense because it was only for a few hours, and he was my BOYFRIEND. So why would I suspect him of anything?

Yeah. While the shithead was dating me, while our relationship was good, he made a copy of the key to my apartment, and I had no idea.

Now how completely sociopathic is that? Anticipating revenge while still in The Honeymoon Period. The thought still makes my skin crawl.

When I told F.H. (First Husband) about the shit Stalky was pulling, he was all, "Well, obviously, dude needs his tires slashed."

And we did. Under cover of night. And it was AWESOME!

Well, I just watched and drove the get-away car while F.H. did the actual slashing, but it was still fun!

And I have to tell you about his van. It had no other seats than the driver's seat, so when we went out, I had to sit in a folding chair. Plus? It was all full of toys, because he managed a toy store, and juggling crap from when he had gigs. Seriously, it was a dump. I mean, sure, it was still better than having to take public transportation to work, but just barely.

So that's my revenge story. As for getting caught and/or confessing, well, I guess this takes care of it, eh?

And if, indeed, the best revenge is living well and NOT tire slashing? Than I'm getting AMAZING revenge on F.H. for turning six years of my life into a frenzy of lies, co-dependency and money-scrounging. Husband treats me like a queen, I have more security, contentment and freedom than I ever thought I'd have. And F.H. is left to wallow is his own crapulence.

Pure. Awesome.

And the key? I didn't bother to ask for it back. I just phoned the landlord immediately, explained the situation and apologized profusely. He came out pronto, changed the lock himself and didn't even charge me for it, even tho' I offered. He was like, "Oh, it was an old lock anyway and needed changing." See? Saintly.

P.S. Fresh, you bastard, you never asked me a question from when you were 700th commenter. Or was it 600th? I forget. But you're still a bastard.

Posted at 12:55 PM | Comments (3)

April 19, 2006

There's Nothing Wrong With Me

Awwwwwwwww, you like me! You really like me!

Thank you so much for your outpouring of love and support for my evilness. Normally I like cash and presents, but this was almost as good.

I was really thinking about my obsession with Disney Villians, trying to discern if it was the symptoms of some ancient evil within me. But I think it's just cuz the bad guys are, frankly, more interesting. They all have some major flaw that turns out to be their downfall. Whereas the heroines are just buffeted about their lives, reacting to the influence of others.

(I'm speaking more here of the traditional princesses I grew up on -- Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty -- and less of their contemporaries -- Belle, Ariel, Jasmine.)

Maleficent's downfall? Well, she was just a petty, spiteful woman, wasn't she? The originator of, "If I ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." And then she died.

But really, which one of us hasn't dabbled in a little revenge now and again? (Yes, Michele, I really will get around to answering your question one of these days.) I'm lookin' at you, Passive-Aggressives! Don't deny it!

Snow White's stepmom? Vanity, with a capital V, man. If botox and collegen and implants were available back then, you know she'd be all over that shit. In the end, she was so eager to squash the competition, she died.

But again, don't those 20 year old girls with the floating breasts and buttcheeks like melons really piss you off? Damn you and your unblemished youth! I don't care if you are skinny enough to wear gauchos and a shrug -- you may not look fat, but you still look retarded!

Uh. Anyhoo.

Cinderella's stepmom? Her achilles heel was ambition. Ambition to get her two skanky daughters married off. And in the end? Well, I think we're supposed to assume she was consumed by bitterness and jealousy and died a pauper.

But if I had to live with those talentless bitches, I'd be in a hurry to get rid of them, too.

Scar? Arrogance! Banishment.

Cruella DeVille? Materialism! Prison.

Jafar? Greed! Trapped for eternity.

Ursula? Power! Impalement.

Captain Hook? Revenge! Eaten.

Demon from "Night on Bald Mountain" in Fantasia? Well, he wasn't so much a villian, per se, as he just really liked to party.

The the point is, the villians are interesting because we can LEARN from them (in theory). Don't be evil, or you'll get the smackdown.

What does Snow White teach us? Sing well, play hard to get, and some guy you saw one time will take you away from the only friends you've ever had? What the hell kind of lesson is that?!

And Cinderella. Tsk tsk. What kind of girl needs to rely on mice to help her do everything? MICE! Of all things!

And Sleeping Beauty, for Chrissake, she was asleep for half the movie!

No, the villians are, by far, more multi-faceted. Plus? They can turn into things! Like dragons and witches and giants and -- and -- with the fire! And the lightening! And the glowing eyes! And the -- And the -- Oh, they're just so kewl!

Posted at 01:26 PM | Comments (6)

April 18, 2006

There's Something Wrong With Me

Now there's an opening for all my critics, eh? [And by critics, I mean family. Mom's rolling her eyes right now going, "Where do you want me to start?!"]

No, seriously. We were in the Happiest Place On Earth (a.k.a. Disney World), and here's me and my family:

At the gallery
Husband: Look at this gorgeous original cell from "Beauty and the Beast!"
Me: Look at this two-foot statue of Maleficent!

At the parade
Boy Child: Look! It's Pooh Bea'!
Me: Look! It's Ursula!

Shopping
Billi: Look! A snowglobe with all the princesses!
Me: Look! A snowglobe with all the villians!

Getting temporary tattoos
Billi: I want Goofy!
Husband: I want Mickey!
Me: I want Snow White's Evil Stepmother the Queen!
Dad: I want Tinkerbell!

Okay, so there's something wrong with Dad, too. But at least he was caught up in the festive mood. Clearly, I'm in need of (more) professional help. I went to Disney World, and of all the souvenirs I bought, only TWO don't have a pirate theme, and the princess car-antenna isn't even for me. It's for Nicholle's Buick. (I know -- big spender, ain't I?) Plus a charm bracelet. You get to pick from all these different Disney-themed charms, but there were no pirate or villian charms. Go figure.

Um, perhaps because the bracelets are geared towards five- to ten-year old girls, Wenchie?

What's your point?

So here's my booty. The pink thing is Nicholle's.

I didn't get Heather one cuz she doesn't have a car.

I must ponder on the origin of my fascination with evil. Over a nice, tall glass of kitten blood.

Pirate Pooh Bear!

Posted at 12:38 PM | Comments (6)

April 17, 2006

Sometimes I Hate Myself

It's 8:13 a.m., and I'm stuffing M&Ms in my piehole, completely negating that minty-fresh, newly-brushed feeling. It's the only thing that can possibly counteract the despair I feel.

Fresh Pepper has removed me from his Links list.

I've been rejected by a guy who bakes pastries, lives in his parents' basement, and can't speak intelligently to a female to save his life.

I want to die.

When I lamented to Nicholle, she offered this solice, "I would say, 1 He hates ANTM, 2 His latent lust for you is too risky in his new relationship, 3 Your most recent post is more up his alley & he will be sooo sorry"

Which means she's probably been drinking since 7:00 because Nicholle never offers solice when mocking laughter is an option. Either that, or she sincerely pities me because my life really has become that pathetic and boring.

Oh, God. I'm Dooce. I've gone and fixed my marriage and, consequently, jumped the shark. Husband and I are all disgustingly content and shit, and now I no longer have that fathomless well of evil hatred to draw from.

I'm doomed.

I enter as Exhibits A, B and C -- Easter decorations:

Exhibit A

I have pastel plushies on the mug-rack in my kitchen, people! I'm scared to look outside -- I'm afraid there will be Easter eggs hanging from my bushes, or a little sign on the front lawn that says "Caution: Bunny Crossing!"

Exhibit B

So Garrance and K had a couple cute little bunnies in their table for Thursday Dinner, and I just had to have one! So I went to Marshall Fields, like they said, and indeed, found a couple of the little 8" bunnies. But wait! Why have 8 inches of bunny when I could have TWENTY inches of bunny?!

Husband took one look at the huge bunny on our coffee table and said, "Huh. I've never really... done Easter decorations."

I have to be in dire straights if Husband can so easily call my coolness into question.

Exhibit C

Those eggs? Hand painted. By me.

Clearly, I have but two options: take my leave of life; or sabotage my marriage, thus regaining my previous venom.

Because, if Jessica Simpson has taught us anything, it's that fame trumps marriage every time.

Now, on to make my marriage a living hell. So many options, but which one is right for us? The sudden and complete loss of interest in sex? Public eye-rolling and condescension whenever he speaks? Rapid and random changes in mood?

Or perhaps the most insidious of all -- accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal savior.

Posted at 01:58 PM | Comments (6)

April 14, 2006

A Good Day To Go To Hell

Marty and I had this conversation last week, via email:

M: Wanna do lunch next week? I'm free Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Lemme know what works for you.

PW: Next Friday is good. Get it?

M: HAH! I wonder where we can go to get sour wine on a stick?

PW: Or ribs on a skewer?

M: Rack of Lamb of God?

PW: Or we can picnic -- I have a nice robe I can bring to sit on!

M: I'll bring the dice!

Posted at 01:12 PM | Comments (1)

April 13, 2006

"The Girl Who Has a Temper"

Previously on "America's Next Top Model"... ah, read it yourself.

We open to see Jade crying -- music to my ears. She's upset about being in the bottom two during the last elimination. It fails to tug on my heart strings.

Brooke's crying, too, about... something. Pressure. I don't know. Apparently, she cries a lot, and Nnenna thinks it's hilarious. We flashback to Nnenna laughing audibly at Brooke's commercial during judging last week. Ouch.

Suddenly, Miss J. appears, and now I'm crying. He has a bunch of accessories -- i.e. gloves, jackets -- for another runway class. The girls need to learn how to unbutton a jacket while walking. *gasp* Geez, he couldn't start with chewing gum while walking first? I mean, these girls aren't stunt men! Won't someone please think of the children?!

They walk. They unbutton. They take off gloves. Brooke sucks at it, and Nnenna laughs.

I'd just like to point out that I can walk to my car while talking on my cell phone, getting my car keys outta my purse, putting my gloves on, flipping off a Verizon employee who's driving too fast and "working" my "signature walk."

Miss J. announces that they're going to meet "The Twirlers." Isn't that the name of Stephen King's latest book? Oh, please, God, let them be midget circus clowns.

Instead, they are gay, black twins in capes. Close enough. Jade immediately identifies with them. Vomit. They say "heighth" instead of "height."

The Twirlers show the girls a move called "The Swirl." Having seen The Girl Child do it a million times in the middle of the living room, I'm not terribly impressed.

Back at the ranch, the girls are pissed that Nnenna is hogging the phone. Cripes, don't tell me she's on with that boyfriend of hers some more. I'm starting to think that she's getting-off on his sickening, pathetic need for her. Ick.

Brooke waits until Nnenna hangs up the phone to confront her on a couple issues, like her hogging the phone, and her laughing at Brooke all the time. I have to hand it to Brooke -- talking to Nnenna about it is way better than the girls' usual M.O., i.e. bitching behind one anothers' backs.

However, Nnenna isn't impressed with Brooke's maturity, picks up the phone again and starts dialing in the middle of Brooke's sentence. Rude!

Brooke storms outta the phone room, yelling at Nnenna and calling her a BITCH! Whoooooooooot! The other girls are shocked that quiet, sensitive Brooke lost her shit. I say good for her!

Apparently, Nnenna eventually gets off the phone and Sara gets on. She tells her boyfriend that all these other girls have been modeling for years, and she feels like she has to work extra hard to prove herself because the ANTM people found her in a mall. Whatev.

Church fashion show! Seriously, it's a fashion show in a church. The minister says that it's a tradition in the black community because it used to be that black people weren't allowed at fashion shows. Huh. Learn something new every day.

They'll be modeling swirling clothes and diamonds, and the winner gets a $25,000 diamond ring. I gotta say, that's a pretty fucking awesome prize, man.

The outfits are black and white, turbins, flowy, scarves, heels, diamonds. Actually, kinda bland. Except for Nnenna, who gets a kickass corset. And Jade, who gets a black cape, befitting her vampiric nature.

And Jade wins, causing me to question God, the universe, and all that is righteous and true. Well, they gave her the best outfit, and she's a goddamn drag queen, so of course she swirled the best.

Jade also gets to pick two girls to get smaller, less expensive diamond rings. $15,000 and $8,000, to be exact. Husband has conveniently nodded off during this segment. She picks Furonda and Nnenna. Jade's a racist.

On the ride home, all the crackers talk about how it's all well and good that Jade and Nnenna got diamonds because they're not going to win the competition. And then they have a light snack of sour grapes.

At the house, Brooke feels bad for calling Nnenna a bitch, which means she can no longer be my hero. Because, if you're going to call someone a bitch, you gotta stand by your proclamation.

Relevent to nothing, know what I wanna see? I wanna see all the previous seasons' winners competing for "The World's Next Top Model." Who are they again? Have to look it up... Adrianne, Yoanna, Eva, Naima, Nicole and Joanie. Because Joanie's my current pick for winner, especially considering the shit she goes thru next week.

Commercials. The makers of "Bring It On" now bring us "Stick It." I am so there. Heather, you're going to have to come with me.

Anyhoo, today, the girls are doing a shoot for Payless Shoes. Just when I thought Tyra couldn't stoop any lower. They try to validate Payless by saying they're "inspired by the runway," but we all know that means "cheap knock-offs."

The girls are also going to be "crumping," which is some new form of crazy dancing, apparently done by men in clown make-up. I'm going to wake-up screaming every night this week, I just know it.

And the photographer who is going to lend the shoot an "urban edge?" A white boy named Trevor. *sigh*

Jay kindly gives Brooke a pep-talk before her shoot, and even manages not to be condescending and flippant. He must've gotten laid.

Danielle confesses to Tyra that the girls in her neighborhood call her "white girl" because she can't dance. RACIST! Okay, I'm totally calling Nicholle "Black Girl" from now on. But Danielle was just being modest because she looks the least foolish of all the girls. And while this little blurbie does nothing to further the show's drama, I felt it noteworthy because -- MODESTY! When do we ever get to see that on this show!

Jade interviews that this crumping photo shoot is totally her "gendre." I think she means "genre," but at least she's trying. Furonda must've put Word-a-Day toilet paper in the bathroom.

When the girls are all done, Jade wonders aloud "how Sara's height looked in the pictures." Ah, Jade sharpens her fangs for another victim.

At judging, the girls have to do some random turntable pose, which is not worth recapping. Suffice to say, they all sucked.

Okay, Furonda's photo is just awesome, and the judges love it. I have to say, she's growing on me, too.

Brooke's photo is hott, and I like her, so I'm glad she has finally made good on all this "potential" the judges keep talking about.

Joanie is adorable. I hope she wins. Which probably means she's doomed to be cut next week.

The judges say that Jade "photographs old," because SHE IS! Seriously, if you haven't become a model by 26, give it up. It's not gonna happen. Go work at the DMV.

The judges also love Nnenna's photo, but I think she looks kinda clownish. Also? She's a fake.

Final discussion: Furonda has a paralyzed right arm; Danielle's skin is ashy; Jade is old; Leslie looks good in print but not in person; Nnenna is bland; Sara should go back to the mall; Brooke is broke-down and needs fixing; Joanie gets a "Bravo!"

It's Sara and Leslie in the final two, and -- how the hell is it not Jade and Brooke? I mean, I like Brooke, but this just seems so random!

And Leslie goes home. More randomness.

Next week: Jade gets called "mannish," and Joanie endures twelve hours of dental work so Nigel doesn't have to endure her snaggletooth anymore.

Posted at 01:05 PM | Comments (0)

April 12, 2006

To Kill a Robin

Ah, Spring. When a young man's fancy turns to drunk-dialing his ex-girlfriends, and Charlie Brown's fancy turns to his pathetic baseball team. And Wenchie's fancy turns to cold-blooded murder.

Ah, Spring. The daffodils, the robins, the warm breezes, the beginning of road construction.

I know it's a sin to kill a mockingbird, but is it a sin to kill a robin?

You're all thinking -- Ah, robins, those charming, rose-breasted heralds of warm weather. What monster could possibly concieve of doing one harm?

This monster. Right here, sitting at this computer. Whilst at the window over her right shoulder, not five feet away, a robin has gotten it into its damn fool head that it can fly through glass and, indeed, will not give up, despite the fact that is hasn't work the first katrillion times.

Yeah. There's a goddamn robin, sitting on the fence three feet from my office window, repeatedly flying headlong into the glass. This has been going on for a week now, and it's driving me friggin' batshitty.

And speaking of shittiness, my window and windowledge are covered in bird poop, plus all kinds of unspeakable, unidentifiable bird-mange-smudges. It's so disgusting. If I took a photo and showed it to Nicholle, Queen of Bird Flu Paranoia, she'd have a stroke.

[Hey, Nicholle, I think I just hit on a way to get that long-term disability leave you've been longing for!]

This glass-ramming goes on all hours of the day. Early morning, mid-afternoon, late evening. Doesn't matter. Also doesn't matter if my blinds are up or down. This bird just looooooooooooves smacking his noggin against this particular pane of glass.

Causing me to speculate -- does it have some sort of neurological disorder? Or was it just born stupid? Or is it some sort of robin hazing ritual, devised by his little birdie friends?

*sigh*

What's the life-expectancy of a retarded robin?

Posted at 01:59 PM | Comments (3)

April 11, 2006

The Show at Dame Edna's Show

The Friday before we left for Florida, Husband and I went to see "Dame Edna" with Garrance and K, their son A, and their friend Steve.

Now, we've seen Dame Edna before, when she was in town three years ago. The audience was a peculiar mix of raging queens and symphony season ticket holders. Needless to say, the two groups didn't mix much, and we had fun people-watching.

However, people-watching can have its drawbacks, as we were forced to watch the couple in front of us give each other tongue baths during the entire first act three years prior. At one point, I'm pretty sure he had his hand down her expensive, exquisitely tailored, lavender, silk pants.

In fact, they were both impeccably dressed, proving yet again that money can buy season tickets to the symphony, but it can't buy you a shred of decency. Money can also buy a nice hotel room near the theatre, which made us wonder -- loudly -- why they hadn't chose that option.

But our subtle hints weren't working, so K, who was directly behind them, leaned forward and said, "Excuse me. Could you stop making-out? It's hard for me to see the stage when you're two heads are together like that."

Well. The man blustered and huffed and postured and "I've never been so insulted in all my life!"

Yeah. Whatever. Like he lives a life of modest decorum. Thank God they didn't return for the second act.

Fast forward three years to several Fridays ago. The curse continued, striking K and all of us again at Dame Edna's show. And this time, in full view of the Dame herself.

See, Dame Edna interacts with her audience a LOT. In fact, she brings them up on stage, she interviews them, she calls their families. At one point, she even asked K if she'd had some "work" done. HA!

To facilitate this interaction, the house lights are up for much of the show, which means that Dame Edna -- and every one else -- can see exactly what's going on in the audience.

We were lucky to get second row seats. Or unlucky, if you count the number of times we saw up his/her dress. There was a couple on the aisle, and then the six of us, so we were practically center. Right to left, it was Couple Woman, Couple Man, Steve, K, Husband, Me, Garrance & A (yes, the same guy who let me use his Old Spice).

Now, about the couple on the end of our row.

She was... Ruebenesque. Okay, she was fat. Which, in itself, is no crime. But, Jeebus, that dress was. It was like someone put a whole watermelon harvest into a sack designed only to hold a dozen peaches. Or something. And the guy was about 20 years older than her.

Not far into the first act, K leans in, does the Pssst! thing and points towards the couple. The guy has a program unfolded in his lap. And not one of the big, glossy ones you buy for twenty bucks -- it was just a Playbill. The girl's hand was under the program, and program was bobbing rhytmically up and down.

For those who lack the power of mental visualization -- dude was getting a handjob in an elegant, downtown theatre, not twelve feet from the person performing on stage.

Perhaps his Viagra had kicked in too soon? Or perhaps it had lingered beyond that afternoon's romp? I don't know.

But I do know this. Handjobs are for high schoolers. Real women give blowjobs, and they don't give them in upscale theatres. They give them in normal places, like elevators, movie theatres and cop cars.

It wasn't long before we six had become as un-subtle as the couple themselves and were flagrantly gawking and pointing at them.

There were other people we knew in the theatre, too, but they were sitting in the pauper seats, i.e. the balcony. During intermission, K got up and waved frantically to get their attention. Once she suceeded, she pointed to the now-vacant seats of the handjob couple, made her hand into a loose fist, and pumped it wildly up and down.

PW: K! Jesus! The entire theatre is looking at you!

K: What! They don't know what I'm doing.

PW: That's, like, the international symbol for handjob! You think your five friends are the only ones in this theatre who know that?!

She's a classy broad, that K.

So, we reported the couple to the head usher... and to everyone seated around us. We had a good laugh, and the couple didn't come back for the second act.

I gotta say, there's only one man in the world I would give up $85 theatre tickets to have sex with. And that man is Bruce Campbell. And even then, I'd at least have the decency to take him to a men's room stall. Sheesh.

But weighing more heavily on my mind -- who gets aroused watching Dame Edna?

Posted at 12:38 PM | Comments (1)

April 10, 2006

My Speech, After My Award-Winning Solo at Saturday's Irish Concert

First, I'd like to thank The Big Man for blessing me with such a beautiful voice and the vanity that compells me to share it with the world.

I'd like to thank the chorale Director for giving me this solo, despite the fact that I didn't audition for it because it's right at my break and, therefore, shredded my chest voice.

I'd also like to thank K for assuring me that, although anyone can sing a "pretty" solo, it takes a special kind of personality to sing a "peasant-y" solo, with a slight Irish brogue.

Thank you, also, to my parents, for instilling in me, at an early age, a love of all kinds of music. And for supporting me by coming to see the concert (unlike any of my other family and friends, who all suck... except you, Snippy Bitch, you're the only one who loves me).

And I'd like to thank my dad, especially, for passing along the DNA that made possible a nervous flop-sweat so purile that I had to borrow some Old Spice deodorant from a male friend.

And lastly, thank you, A, for the deodorant. I'm sure all the other second sopranos are grateful, as well.

Thank you, and good night.

Posted at 02:44 PM | Comments (2)

April 07, 2006

"The Girl With Two Bad Takes"

I think the title of this episode of "Not America's Next Top Best Friend" would have been more helpful if they had narrowed it down to "The Girl Without Two Bad Takes." I'm just sayin'.

We open with Mollie Sue being upset about the judges not seeing her personality. And am I wrong, or isn't that a complaint usually saved for the plus-sized models? Well, since there are none this season, I guess that role has been thrust upon Mollie Sue. Poor thing. C'mere and let me comfort you.

Nnenna's on the phone with her jackass boyfriend, and he's all, "What about me? What about how I feel? What about me?" Dude, seriously, you might need that last tiny shred of dignity someday, so shut up.

Wisely, Nnenna has had enough and announces, to no one in particular, that "it's over." But Jade, needing a new toy to gnaw on now that Gina is gone, counsels Nnenna to try and work it out with Jackass.

Furonda and Danielle both interview the obvious -- that Jade is working Nnenna.

So the girls are whisked away to yet another meeting with Tyra in her green room. And the collapsing? Yeah, it's Tyra. And the girls freak. And I get my hopes up. And when no one from the film crew rushes to help her, the girls still don't get that it's a total fake-out.

When Tyra pops back up and announces that it's Acting Week, the girls do not laugh with her, as she quite obviously expected. Furonda cries, and they all look at Tyra like she's completely whacked and/or really, really mean. And they're right.

But to make up for emotionally scarring these easily-deluded girls, she gives them gifts of pink wife-beaters with their names on them and matching panties. Add a babushka and kneesocks, and Jade has another complete outfit in which to lurk about the house.

So the girls are taken to some improv place that's apparently totally famous, but hell if I care enough to remember the name. During the brief, preliminary exercises, their improv host tells Jade, "Sometimes it's not about yoooooooouuuuuuuuu." And I love him immediately.

Back at the house, Nnenna's on the phone with Jackass AGAIN. Begging the question -- WHY does she keep CALLING him?! For everyone's sake, just STOP THE INSANITY! In a very creepy move, Jade is actually in the room with Nnenna, listening and writing down things for her to say to him. Ew, ew, ew.

Not that I need to spell it out for you, but clearly, Jade wants Nnenna to stay in the relationship because Jade finally figured out that Nnenna is her biggest competition, so she wants to keep Nnenna distracted and depressed.

And just when you thought Jade couldn't get any more ooky, it's time for their challenge. They go back to the improv place, divide into two teams, and take turns jumping through the various improv hoops that their host sets up for them. The prize? A guest spot on the t.v. show "Veronica Mars." And how cool would it be to see an ANTM girl playing a cadaver?! Too cool for it to actually happen.

Predictably, none of the girls are as funny as me. Jade just sucks. They play The Question Game (as often seen on "What's My Line?"), and Jade can't form a question. Let me repeat that. Jade doesn't know how to form a question. Even after being told, "Start with who, what, where, when or why, and you can't go wrong." She goes wrong. It's awesome.

Also? Jade has no sense of humor, so she falls back on what she does know -- cruelty. The girls have to rap, so Jade makes up some non-rhyming thing about Furonda's face being "lumpy," then reloads and goes on to insult Sara.

Everyone is horrified and uncomfortable. Awesomely, the girls on Furonda and Sara's team gang-up on Jade and all rap about how awful she is. Retaliation -- it's a good thing.

Afterwards, Jade interviews that the reason she sucked ass at improvisation is that she "needed more direction," which is the hugest cop-out ever. And then she says that she's surprised that Nnenna could stay focused during the challenge. Well, way to expose your evil plan, Jade. Not that we hadn't guessed it before the first commercial break, but really. Why don't you just rub your hands together and cackle maniacally, for God's sake?

Proof that there is still a God -- Furonda wins the challenge, and picks Nnenna as her guest. Jade seethes, and baby angels sing.

On the ride home, Joanie, Sara and Mollie Sue rag on Jade's behavior. Um, are the limos segregated? Because these three are the only ones in the car. Weird.

I don't know how it begins, but back at the house, Furonda and Jade are having a discussion about Jade's behavior. For the billionth time, Jade explains that, when people first meet her, they think she's a bitch, but everyone who really knows her knows that she's "real." Yeah, a real bitch. I'm sure by "everyone," she means her cat.

During this, Furonda says something about Jade's bullshit being a facade. Jade has never heard this word before and, I think, goes so far as to accuse Furonda of making it up. Furonda cannot disguise her contempt as the entire world screams, "READ A BOOK, JADE!"

The more I see of Furonda, the more I can forgive her ugliness.

Meanwhile, Nnenna's Jackass is all, "Look at you, ripping my heart out! Why? Can't? You? Love? Me?" Dude has issues.

As part of their prize, Nnenna and Furonda get to do a Public Service Announcement for AIDS awareness, which is pretty cool. And they kinda suck, but that's okay.

Furonda does "Veronica Mars" where she's a secretary or something. I don't watch it, so I don't care.

Then it's time to shoot a Cover Girl commercial. Oh, this is gonna be nothin' but bad.

Most of the girls suckity-suck-suck-SUCK, and they all congregate in the Post-Shoot Room or whatever and cry about it. Then Nnenna bursts in and goes, "I did great! How did you guys do?"

Mollie Sue actually shoots death-lasers out of her eyes.

Back in the holding tank, Jade watches Brook's shoot and laughs, "Brook just breaks."

Now, what she says is true, but still. Laughing is mean, and Brook is nice. The producers really don't miss a chance to show us every side of Jade's evilness.

Then it's Jade's turn. And whereas Jay and the director guy had only pity for the other girls, for Jade, there is only laughter. Uncontrollable, malevolent laughter. Instant karma, baby.

Jay goes, "She's a drag queen!"

Then? Jade not only flubs her lines; she swears. Gasp! Cover Girls don't swear! I don't care what you've heard about Queen Latifa!

Afterwards, Jade AGAIN says that she "needed more direction." Um, remember your lines and don't swear. Is that good enough direction for you, dearie? Ah, yes, Jade's delusion that her failure is everyone's fault but her own continues. And the other girls flee the hot tub to escape her, leaving her alone with everyone who thinks she's "real."

*cricket* *cricket*

Judging! The panel reviews the girls' commercials. Apparently, each girl got two takes, and the judges are seeing what Jay and the director thought was each girl's best take.

Mollie looked scary. Danielle has to get rid of her hillbilly accent. Furonda did a pretty good job. Brook had dreadful stage fright. Nnenna lacked grace. Joanie lacked sophistication. Leslie did well. Sara had a drink in her hand the whole time. Jade--

"You guys used my worst take!"

[sound of needle scratching on record]

Oh, NO! SHE! DI'IN'T!

Well, Miss Tyra does not like that kind of back-talk at all. So she calls Jade out and says, "The director said that BOTH your takes were bad."

I clap gleefully and do a happy dance, waking Daisy and frightening Husband.

THEN! As if my cup did not already runneth over. Tyra takes it even further and tells Jade she looked "very draggish."

And my life is complete!

The final two come down to Jade and Mollie Sue. And Mollie Sue goes home because it's better to have a shitty personality than no personality. Apparently. Mollie Sue is, understandably, shocked and bitter about losing to a bitchy drag queen.

Next week: Brook gets pissed at Nnenna. For what? Hogging the phone? Snoring? I just can't imagine there's going to be anything exciting between those two. And if that's the best teaser they can come up with for next week, I'm not excited.

Posted at 03:06 PM | Comments (1)

"The Girl Who Kissed a Male Model"

Well, since this week's "America's Next Top Tool" is already past, I'd better set to the arduous task of reviewing last week's episode. You were waiting with bated breath, I know.

Nnenna's on the phone with her boyfriend, and although she's surrounded 24/7 by women and gay men, he's grilling her about flirting with other guys.

Lemme guess which girl kisses a male model.

I had a boyfriend like that, looooooooong time ago. He even went so far to say that, if I put any effort at all into my appearance -- i.e. make-up, cute clothes -- then I was just a slut inviting the attentions of other men. Needless to say, I threw myself at the first guy who actually told me I looked "beautiful" when I put effort into my appearance.

Bad approach, Nnenna's Boyfriend. Now the entire world knows what an asshat you are. In your defense, however, it's clear from looking at your video that you're NEVER, EVER going to get another woman as awesome as Nnenna. No wonder you're so paranoid.

Danielle's toe looks bad, and she's still on crutches.

And then...

JANICE!!!

She's going to be teaching Posing Class, and "Alcoholic Bitch" Lisa from last season is with her. They're lovers, you just know it.

The girls talk with Janice, and Jade says she thinks she "clicks" with Janice. Oh, you wish, Ferret-Eyes.

For some reason, Janice makes Gina hop up and down on one foot while laughing. I think there was some point to it, like Gina needs to be able to laugh at herself, but the connection was not real clear to anyone who hadn't had three martinis beforehand.

After Posing Class, the girls all have lunch with Janice. Gina's sitting next to her, so Janice asks Gina which girl is posing a problem in the house. Because Janice has been on enough of these shows to know that Tyra always picks some crazy bitch purely for the drama factor.

Gina, of course, because she has never seen an episode of ANTM in her life and doesn't know Janice's Golden Rule, breaks bad on Jade.

The look on Jade's face here is priceless. The shock, the hurt, the wide-eyed innocense. HA! I wanna see her name on the next Emmy ballot.

But it's Gina that Janice goes ballistic on, for talking smack about another girl. Gina is confused that someone would ask her a question they didn't really want an answer to, and Janice, hilariously, tells Gina, "You're dead to me!"

You can almost hear Jade climaxing off-screen. It's her Dear Diary moment, and she can now die a happy ferret.

Back at the house, Gina cries about Janice's treatment of her (not realizing that that's what we depend on Janice for) and finds Jade sitting on her bed. If Jade had peed on Gina's pillow, it couldn't have been any more blatant a challenge.

I really kinda hate that the other girls don't back up Gina. I know she's supposed to be able to stand up for herself, but, were I there, I'd at least call Jade on her feigned innocense.

Finally, Gina grows a set and tells Jade off. Badly. Lamely. Unconvincingly. But hey, it's a baby-step in the right direction. And at least none of the other girls defend Jade.

Gee, Special K, product placement much?

The challenge today is a shoot for Sears. There are four sets of clothes and four backgrounds -- one for each season. The girls have to pick an outfit and some poses for each season, and they're being timed because, we are told ad nauseum, TIME IS MONEY.

Jade goes first. God, she really is fugly. When it's Gina's turn, Jade's eyes narrow into little slits, and she watches Gina like a jackal. Jade has culled the weakest from the pack and is anticipating her evisceration.

Well, screw them both. Nnenna wins again! Yay! And she wins ALL the clothes from the shoot that day! And seriously, there are a TON of clothes. But Nnenna probably sent them all to poor people in Africa, or sold them on eBay and donated the profits to AIDS research. Because that's the kind of gal Nnenna is. And you didn't see that on the show because Sears was pissed that some gorgeous model wasn't going to be wearing their clothes in public.

Nnenna calls The Boyfriend to share the good news, and again he starts in with the badgering and clinging and whining and ohforfuckssake shut UP already!!!! What does she see in this guy? He must be really hung because he can't have a conversation without accusing her or something. She hangs up on him. Pure. Awesome.

In another blatant promo for Tyra's show, the girls are taken to her studio so Mother Hen Tyra can counsel them on career choices between tapings of her other show. Barf.

Most of the girls want to be lawyers. HA! Jade wants to be a kindergarten teacher because she loves children. Medium rare.

Danielle voices the thoughts of parents around the globe, "I'd home-school my kids before I'd send them to Jade's class."

Well, apparently, all this talk has a reason behind it, unlike 99% of what goes on with this show. And that reason is to make the girls "act out their future dreams" in their shoot. But it also has to be "edgey." So, you know, "whore-y."

Also? There are male models involved, and they all have very male-model-y names like JT and Vaughn and Zane. How come you never see male models named Bob?

The girls don't try for one minute to conceal their drooling. Really classy.

The girls all pose. You can click through their photos here. I'm not linking individually cuz they really didn't do much for me this week. Except this one of Jade, which just makes me hate her all the more.

During the shoot, there was a lot of "chemistry" (i.e. "horniness") between Nnenna and her token piece of meat. And in the final frame of their set, they kiss. No tongues, they're in front of two dozen people, but apparently, it's a BIG EFFING DEAL.

Now, I can understand how you wouldn't want to kiss every male model you worked with because you'd get a reputation as a tramp. But seriously, in light of Kate Moss' recent escapades -- and in light of Shandi nailing that Italian model in the hot tub or whatever -- it's so not a big deal.

Well, okay, it might have been a big deal to the guy, who "pitched a tent, and not the kind you sleep in," according to Joanie. Awkward!

In closing, is it any wonder Nnenna threw herself at this guy who made her feel fabulous and forgot the guy who makes her feel smothered? No, no it isn't. And I don't know why the other girls are all, "Girl, you'd better call your boyfriend." What do they care? Earth to models! Nnenna's boyfriend is a JACKASS!

But Nnenna stupidly calls him and confesses to him anyway, and he reacts so predictibly that I'm not even going to bother describing it.

During judging, Jade is much nicer in front of the judges and doesn't argue with their critiques of her. One of them comments on her change, but Tyra says, "But we don't know what's going on back at the house."

Really, Tyra? You don't watch the dailies? Nah, she's on to Jade. Tyra may be nuts, but she's not stupid.

In the end, the judges can finally no longer deny Gina's ugliness and stupidity, so she gets to go home. Or go be euthanized. Whatever.

In the next episode, someone collapses. Wait, didn't we just do collapsing two seasons ago? Yawn.

Posted at 07:52 AM | Comments (0)

April 06, 2006

Making Baby Jesus Cry

[Today's post is by guest-blogger, Nicholle. The photo was taken on Christmas morning, 2005. Nicholle has been busy, so cut her a little slack, will ya? I will be back tomorrow with TWO "America's Next Top Model" reviews.]

Norman Rockwell would have painted a St. Bernard where she was standing. As suggested to the artist easily by the drooping piles of ruddy hair.

This is Christmas morning, people. De rigeur: comfy robes for the residents, footie jammies for the little ones, cable knit sweaters and jeans for the guests. Not this. Never this.

To start at the bottom or the top? The top, to emphasize the descent into fashion hell.

Thirty-three year old women must have all purchase attempts of butterfly clips thwarted at the Walgreens counter. No longer must they be allowed to disguise them in piles of sanitary products and butterfingers!

Long-sleeve Hello Kitty t-shirt with ruffled shoulders in sanitarium pink. Ruffled shoulders = nineteen eighty-two. There. I spelled it out for ya. Now pink generally rocks, as do wee and/or ironic representations of Miss Kitty.

Case in point: Hello Kitty graphic no more than three inches high wearing a black bow, with a skull in the center and a plaid skirt, can say, “I know mute Japanese cats can be a little fifth grade, but I am cognizant and wear it with a little edge.” And NOT to celebrate the birth of Christ. Unless you are THAT family member, and then we hope you come up with something so bleeding inappropriate that you make your mother cry at the thought of a family photo.

Also –- pink on the ginger-coiffed? Only if you’re Strawberry Shortcake, and even she toned it down. Which brings us to the pants.

Now, since the subject wasn’t really cooperating, the photo is missing the fab details of calligraphy graffiti randomly splashed about the tush. It really puts the lash in splash. As in forty lashes. But you can make out the embroidery. So kitschy. So ethnic. So visually competitive with Sanrio.

The extra fabric bunching about the ankles would have been so helpful to the fabric at the hips -– fabric that never thought, in its early days on the loom, that it would be required to withstand forces equivalent to a tsunami on its little, cotton arms. It’s okay to buy the right size! C’mon, they've invented vanity sizing!

Oh wait, that’s right –- you assembled this ensemble in the dark, mirrorless room in the basement behind the furnace, where you held your breath against the black mold, and they did fit down there.

The gift of Ugg slippers pushed it to the edge, man. Or brought it all together. Whichever.

Posted at 10:45 AM | Comments (0)

April 05, 2006

Sleep Study

I am bilious with rage this morning, boy and girls. BILIOUS!

(And the reason for my absence yesterday will soon be apparent.)

While growing up, I was taught to have respect for people who are sleeping.

On Saturday mornings, while Mom and Dad "slept", Billi and I would creep downstairs, careful to skip the steps we knew to be creaky, to watch cartoons. And we knew better than to make any noise, lest there be an abrupt, angry end to our beloved cartoons.

Mom suffered from migraines for years. And just looking at the poor woman suffer in her darkened bedroom -- ugh, she looked so miserable. Even as bratty little girls, we had enough compassion to keep quiet.

For decades, my father took a nap every, single night after dinner. And then he'd stay up 'til midnight. I don't know anyone else who does this, but it worked for him, so whatever. Picture the love-child of Archie Bunker and Brian Dennehy being woken up early from his nap. Pretty damn scary.

As a person who probably suffers from some as-of-yet unnamed sleep disorder, I value my sleep GREATLY. And it has been a long, hard struggle trying to get my new family to understand the importance of my sleep and the skill of BEING QUIET. I believe it is a life-skill that should be taught to everyone. In gym class, or something.

Yesterday, I was doing another sleep study. A daytime one, to try to discern if I have mild narcolepsy. They had me try to nap five times, and if I could fall into REM three of those fives times, then that's the benchmark for narcolepsy. Apparently.

I had fewer electrodes on my head this time, which was nice. And no tubes in my nose. And the nail polish remover worked wonders getting the spoo outta my hair! Thanks, Lori!

I fell asleep three outta my first three naps, and I got to REM during two of them. Of course, then they wake you up right away, so it's very unfulfilling.

About an hour before my fourth and most crucial nap, some... people arrived at the office, which was weird because I was the only person getting a sleep study, and the doctor was not in the office -- just the sleep test guy. Who, by the way, had serious B.O. issues.

These people included a toddler. Someone brought a toddler to a place where people are trying to sleep. In strange beds. With wires attached to their heads. A fucking TODDLER.

When Mr. B.O. came in to get me settled for my fourth nap -- The Nap That Would Determine Whether Or Not I Have Narcolepsy And Can Get Treatment And Not Be Exhausted All The Damn Time -- I said to him, "I'm never going to be able to sleep with those people making all that noise."

He blew it off like, "Oh, you always think you can't sleep, but then you do."

But I persisted, "Dude. Seriously. That kid's voice is going to keep me awake."

And then it occurred to me -- it's probably his kid. He and I were the only ones there, and I'm pretty sure I have sired no illegitimate spawn, so it had to be his.

And this calmed me. I was confident that, it being his kid, he wouldn't be embarassed asking his wife or whomever to close the door or keep the kid quiet or whatever. While he was working. At work. In a doctor's office.

I am a stupid, stupid woman.

I was exhausted lying down for the fourth nap, yet every time I thought I might drift off to LaLa Land, that fucking kid would shriek or cry or scream or do whatever it is that toddlers do. Loudly.

I was practically in tears when Mr. B.O. came in to "wake" me from my NON-NAP. And he confirmed that, indeed, I did not sleep at all that time.

I said, "I told you -- that kid kept me awake."

He kept quiet, which was confirmation enough in my mind that, indeed, the kid was his. AND he was a shitty parent. AND he was the shittiest sleep study administer EVER!!!

WHO BRINGS A FUCKING TODDLER TO A PLACE WHERE THE ENTIRE POINT OF THE PLACE IS SLEEPING FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE TROUBLE SLEEPING?!?!

And I know I've way surpassed the acceptable limit for F-Word Usage today, but I'm just that livid. I'm making a follow-up appointment as soon as possible, and Dr. Sleep is getting a piece of my mind about the quality of his staff.

I spent MY vacation day and MY money to be diagnosed in his office, only to have the whole test compromised by a shrieking toddler. Dr. Sleep has one option here: Take my word that I would have slept that fourth time and give me some goddamn relief, because I am NOT taking another day off for another test, and I am NOT going to walk around tired for the rest of my life just because some parents are asshats.

So I got home and, over dinner, told Husband all about The Shrieking Toddler Incident, as it has come to be known. I was about two minutes into my rant, and he's all, "Just calm down. Let it go."

RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You can imagine my reaction, no? The details are inconsequential, but it came packaged in a blue-streak of cursing that made the entire cast of "Deadwood" go, "Holy shit! What the fuck was that?" And I was armed with a fork.

This morning, my boss came in and actually laughed at how tired I look. Lucky for him, I don't have the energy to relatiate, and there are no forks nearby.

Moral of the story: Keep your toddlers out of adult movies, out of fancy restaurants, out of sleep study offices, and -- most importantly -- away from the Wench.

Posted at 11:16 AM | Comments (4)

April 03, 2006

Search Haiku

Here are some more things that people have searched for on my site. I don't know who you are, but you people are total degenerates. And thank you for frequenting my little blog. Come again!

1. videos of hooliganism
Dude, if you can't think up your own shit, don't be a copy-cat. Besides, what 80 year old is looking up "videos of hooliganism"? Wouldn't someone of the proper age to commit hooliganism be looking up vandalism?

2. strawberry shortcak
I don't know what "shortcak" is, but I don't think I'd want to eat it. Not with all the strawberries in the world.

3. dooce
Don't be searching my site for Dooce. You should be searching Dooce's site for me.

4. cartoons spreading noses
What the--?

5. ugg clogs
I hope you didn't really expect to find any useful information here about ugg clogs. If I were to deign to mention them, it would only be for the purposes of mocking and derision. Now hang your head in shame.

And the rest of these -- *sigh* -- I just... don't even know.

6. donkey stroking

7. goat nadgering

8. baboon pestulance

9. seal tupping

10. crock bothering

Although there's almost a poetic quality to them, when you put them all together. A haiku, perhaps, in tandum with cherry blossom season?

Baboon pestulance,
Goat nadgering, Seal tupping,
And donkey stroking.

Brings a tear to my eye and a song to my heart.

Posted at 02:55 PM | Comments (3)