March 28, 2007
300 Is a Perfect 10
Have you seen "300"?
Here's a comic from Penny Arcade that Marty sent me:
[Click on the panel to go to the URL and a bigger, easier-to-read version.]
And I must agree.
Ladies, if you don't like this movie, just sew up the vag right now. Totally buff men in banana-hammocks and capes? What's not to love?! There's not one damn ounce of body fat in that entire movie!!!
By the way, I have Marty's penis on loan because he hasn't seen it, yet. He gets it back when he presents me with a ticket stub and some Junior Mints.
Posted at 06:20 PM | Comments (1)March 27, 2007
"The Girl Who Something Something Dead"
Previously on “America’s Next Top Model,” Wenchie’s mounting social obligations keep her from watching The Makeover Episode. A nation mourns.
As it turns out, it was also The Nudie Photo Shoot episode, so no one mourns more deeply than Wenchie. You should see the veil I’m wearing. It’s fabulous.
Anyhoo, I read that Brittany was the cry-baby last episode but kept kicking Renee’s ass anyway. I viewed all the candy-themed photos at the ANTM website and, frankly, was quite disappointed. I was thinking that gummy bears stuck to a naked, nubile body would be hott, but it just wasn’t. Maybe it was the hair? Or the tacky background?
Okay, on to the most recent episode. Which I didn’t see all of because Heather called right when it was starting, so I muted the first 15 minutes. What? You guuuuuys! It was Heatherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I couldn’t just hang up! She said my boobs are fabulous and she loves me!
Come to think of it, she says my boobs are fabulous in almost every conversation we’ve ever had. I sense a trend…
From what I could gather, some disgusting contortionist named Benny Ninja (I’m totally sure that that’s his real name, too) came to teach the girls about posing. Riiiiiiiight. More like – here’s how not to look at all human.
Eep! Jael burned her face with a curling iron. Well, it was worth it – her hair is cute.
Ohmigod! The prize for the posing competition is a $40,000 diamond bracelet by… some designer I wrote down and can’t read my writing now. Oryana? Osgara? Owhothefuckcares? DIAMOND BRACELET!!!!!!!! I’ll bet the girl who won the shoe trophy is really pissed.
The girls have to go through a maze of lasers a la Mission Impossible (I guess) while posing. And I can tell you right now, I’d fall flat on my ass. Also? If you don’t make it to the end in 3 min., you’re automatically disqualified.
Renee really wants to win because she and her husband are broke, so I guess she wants to eBay the $40,000 diamond bracelet or something. How tacky. I’m so tired of her.
Brittany rocks. Whitney rocks AND keeps eye contact with Benny Ninja the whole time, which impresses him. She probably just didn’t want to let that little leprechaun freak out of her sight.
Jaslene vogues. Felicia Tyra blah blah blah.
Natasha can’t stop with the goddamn fish lips, and it’s making me crazy. Who told her that was sexy?
And in an act of karma so poetic it deserves its own book in the Bible, Renee is the only one who doesn’t complete the challenge and is automatically disqualified from winning the bracelet. Bye-bye eBay!
Whitney wins! Go fat chick! She says she’s keeping the bracelet, and I think that’s the only decent thing to do. It’s totally adorable, like a silver charm bracelet. I wish they’d show a close-up.
HA! Renee’s spirit is broken, and she wants to go home. Don’t forget to take your ball when you go, Renee, so the other kids can’t play, either! BITCH!
And I’m sure someone out there – probably someone poor – thinks I’m an asshole for saying Renee is tacky for wanting to pawn the bracelet, but I have to agree with Scarlett Cyn who once told me: “Never, EVER pawn your jewelry. I don’t care how poor you are. Eventually, to get back in the game, you’re going to have to look the part. And you can’t do that without your jewels, baby.” Or something to that effect.
Oh, and it had to show-up, didn’t it? The Phone Phight. Renee is busy crying to… someone. Her coven leader, perhaps? The girls rag about how long she’s been on, and she hears them. So… pretty much anti-climactic.
Next, Jay takes the girls to the roof of the Alexandria Hotel. They have a photo shoot where they are crime scene murder victims. Oh, you KNOW this is Tyra and Jay living out their fantasies.
Renee has been poisoned. By her own forked tongue, no doubt. Her shoot goes very well, but she doesn’t want to tell the other girls because they already hate her enough already. Jay tells them anyway, and you know she’s glad he did. I mean, it’s not like everyone could hate her any more. We’re all pretty much maxed out on the Renee hate.
Jaslene falls off a roof. Brittany drowns in a tub. Diane gets slashed. Sarah is pushed down the stairs.
Jael has been strangled, and the whole death-of-her-friend thing is weighing heavy on her mind, so she’s finding it hard to focus on the shoot. Which is completely understandable. And you can’t tell me Tyra doesn’t plan this shit. You know they had a whole other shoot planned, and as soon as the camera man texted Jay to say that Jael’s friend had ODed, he was on the phone to Tyra cackling, “We’re going with Plan B!”
Natasha is also drowned, and she bitch, bitch, bitches about being wet.
Jay says that all the girls did really well, and judging is going to be hard.
Jael thinks she’s going home because she knows she didn’t do as well at the death-themed shoot as she would have, had she not been thinking about a certain real corpse. Her voice is really starting to annoy me. Not since Cycle One winner Adrienne has anyone been so in need of having her adenoids removed.
Day-um! Tyra’s got a big ol’ wig on for judging!
Sarah is wearing formal shorts, which I hate just about as much as I hate her, so that’s fitting. Her shot is hideous and she has no chin, but the judges love it.
Felicia “lacks sparkle” and is the only girl who really looks dead.
Jael has too much baggage. Have they looked under Renee’s eyes?
Felicia and Dionne are in the Final Two, and to my surprise, it’s Dionne who gets a photo. Huh. I’m usually better at predicting that. Missing an episode has made me loose my touch.
Felicia is glad that the other girls cried for her and will miss her.
Next episode: Natasha’s marriage to a man old enough to be her father creeps out her roommates, and rightly so. Renee starts attacking Whitney, obviously jealous of the bracelet. Jesus, get a new routine, Renee!
Posted at 05:36 PM | Comments (2)March 26, 2007
And In the Careful-What-You-Wish-For File
Over the past couple of weeks, I've had an on-again-off-again romance with a low-grade fever.
Annoyed that I was tired and unfocused, but at the same time, not really sick, I found myself wishing I'd just get well, or be flippin' sick enough to stay home from work already, dammit!
Lo, I have been smited.
Not only am I sick enough to stay home from work, I'm sick enough to drown if I don't remain in an upright position. I'm sick enough to warrant actual pity from my husband. (The one who didn't think his massive staff infection was anything to worry about -- remember?)
I'm sick enough that I still haven't cleaned up from Spikette's birthday party last night. And you know how I feel about a messy house.
In the Pros column, I can't taste a damn thing, so hocking up phlegm wads isn't as heinious as one might think. I'll have to write that one down in my Gratitude Journal.
Posted at 07:42 PM | Comments (1)March 23, 2007
The Three Stages of Poop
One... day. I just want to go one damn day without the smell of poop in my nostrils.
There are many things I don't want waking me up at 1:00 in the morning.
Snoring.
Husband's and/or Daisy's.
The phone.
It's never good news in the middle of the night.
Husband's wandering hands.
I'm married. The window for sex is 7:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. And don't gimme that "Oh, I must've been doing it in my sleep" crap, mister.
Canine pre-hork retching.
Y'all know what I'm talkin' 'bout.
Yet more than all of these, I hate, HATE, HATE waking up to the smell of shit.
Yes, the barf is gross. But we have recently discovered the joy of Resolve Pet Stain Remover. And besides -- I can usually play Girl and get Husband to do most of the hurl removal.
Lo, worse than the barf is the shit because it immediately means three things.
One, the cage needs to be cleaned out. Disassembled, cleaned and reassembled. Fine.
Two, the floor will probably need to be washed because poop will be tracked from the cage to the back door. Her majesty is tipping the scales just shy of 45 lbs. nowadays, despite only being 5 months old today, so she is no longer easily picked up and toted around.
Three -- and this is the biggie -- the 45 lb. puppy will need to be bathed. The very idea of this causes me to go limp with reluctance and dread. I can hardly type it.
And this is what happened at 1:00 a.m. Wednesday. I woke to the smell of fecal matter, and my limbs immediately responded by refusing to let me leave the bed. So I laid there for a while, praying it was merely a case of Husband having had garlic for lunch.
But it didn't dissipate. Indeed, it worsened. And yea, the three inevitables followed.
One, I cleaned the cage.
Two, we bathed the puppy. In the kitchen sink.
Three, I called in "pissed off" to work so I could stay home to clean the kitchen and nap.
My dedication to employment knows no bounds.
Posted at 07:21 AM | Comments (0)March 22, 2007
Letter Writing: B-
At the end of next week, they stop taking applications for my temp job and start interviewing prospective full-time employees. And not a minute too soon!
Most of the people I work with are really nice. In fact, it's kind of like working with my family.
One gentleman is half deaf, so I have to use my "outside voice," just like with Dad. Another man is often singing, reminding me of Mom. And while I'm practically sweating in a short-sleeved blouse, the woman whose cube is directly across from mine is chilly in her turtleneck and blazer. Remind you of anyone, Spikette?
(Have I mentioned before that Spikette is the name Older Sister chose for herself? It's because she's in love with Spike from "Buffy.")
However, there's no one in my family, or even my circle of friends, of whom I am fondly reminded when I deal with my temporary boss. He's quite the perfectionist.
Any letter I do for him must go back to him perfect and ready to be signed, no matter how unclear he is on the tape, or how unfamiliar I am with the lexicon of this particular industry.
Now, normally, he just corrects my mistakes in black pen. But in this particular instance, he switched to a red pen -- mid-letter -- because I misspelled the name of The Big Cheese of the company.
He also added his own charming little opinion, in graphic form:
A sad face. He made a fucking sad face on my letter! Like he was grading a third grade book report, for God's sake!
Dude is totally on probation. One more move like that, and I'm outta here. I didn't leave the tyranny of my old job just to suck up some arrogant condesension from this guy.
I think, when/if I start job searching in earnest, I should have employers submit their resumes to me, along with a list of references. And I should be allowed confidential interviews with the other employees.
Seriously, why is the employee the only one who gets grilled and inspected? It starts out the whole relationship wrong when you're already in a superior vs. inferior setting.
Seriously! Who says that, just because they're looking for a secretary, I should be turning cartwheels in hopes that they'll honor me with the opportunity to serve them? Here's a question for ya: Why the hell did your last secretary leave?!
I'm going to do it. I'm going to interview all my potential bosses. Every question that gets asked of me, I'm going to turn back onto them.
Thereby ensuring that I never work again. : )
Posted at 08:17 AM | Comments (4)March 20, 2007
Good Morning, Bitches!
Here's a photo op I noticed the other morning. It's some of the girls sporting The Millicent Roberts Collection, the light of the dawn coming in through my office window.
Artsy-fartsy, no?
Actually, they look more like a Barbie line-up. Someone's been out shopping with Winona Ryder again!
If you love Native American barbie dolls, you may also be intrigued by the history of Native American dolls and many other Native American cultural items and interesting American Indian history in depth.
Posted at 08:22 AM | Comments (1)
March 19, 2007
Bad Feng Shui
So... you know how I'm completely insane? Well, I got a real bee in my bonnet yesterday afternoon. I'm gonna completely feng shui my office at home! I'm so excited!
I've always been very intrigued by feng shui, and I very much enjoy getting rid of clutter. I'm always looking for stuff I can throw out. Even if it's not mine. Okay -- especially if it's not mine.
Anyhoo, I was thinking. Where do I spend most of my time? My office. And what does it look like? Well, it's one-third Barbies and totally crammed full of furniture.
This looks like a job for Super Chi!
For instance. Look at the Love & Marriage section of my office.
That's right -- I'm married to Barbie. Explains a lot, doesn't it?
And here's the rest of the girls, in the Fame & Reputation section.
Which means that people see me as a Barbie. Great. Hey, my eyes are up here, buddy!
Oh, and check out the Life Path section.
My make-up, my hair station and the Silkstone bitches. It's a wonder I'm not a hooker.
So I've made up my mind. I'm moving everything around, sending one-third to one-half of the Barbies to the party room in the basement, and bringing some positive energy into the room, especially the areas of Love, Creativity and Prosperity!
I'll let you know if all my dreams suddenly come true.
If you are looking into building a new home, there are many options. For example, a small sized modular home may be a good choice, if you don't want a very large home or can't afford one. A timber framed type home can sometimes be more expensive and time consuming, depending on your home builder and/or architect.
Posted at 07:52 AM | Comments (3)
March 18, 2007
Day After St. Patrick's Haiku
empty Guinness cans
found on my lawn this morning
Vicki, was that you?
[P.S. Yesterday's blog about Billi's infirmery generated more comments than any other blog EVER. You people sure do like to commiserate!]
March 16, 2007
Good Thing There's a Spare 'Cuz I Think the First Born Is In Jeopardy
Brace yourselves for the frogs and boils, people. Billi is not letting God's people go, and she's taking us all down with her. The plague is currently afflicting her household, and no amount of lamb's blood on the threshold is going to stop it.
The Boy Child has pneumonia and is on some serious antibiotics. On the bright side, since laughing and running makes him cough, he gets to spend unlimited time playing "Lego Star Wars," so he's never been happier.
The Girl Child was up from 12:15 to 4:00 a.m. last night with a fever, coughing and throwing up. Billi took her to the doctor today. The strep test was negative, and the chest x-ray didn't show any pneumonia, so doctor thinks it's just viral. All she got was a strong cough medicine.
The Spare has thrush. So he's on antibiotics and some other medicine and a cream that Billi has to put in his cheeks four times a day. Oh, and his pacifiers must be boiled after every use.
Plus, Billi has a fever. I'm sure Brad will come down with the clap any minute now.
But the fun doesn't stop there! Within two minutes of receiving her email, I got one from another friend who currently has divorce lawyers circling her house, and from Heather, whose root canal got infected, just before she threw her back out.
What the hell is going on, people?
I'm afraid to leave my house.
Posted at 07:02 PM | Comments (10)March 14, 2007
Guest Blogger: Heather
Hey Y'all.
Ms. Heather here, taking over the blog to let you know that Wenchie's DSL is down at home, and although they've called someone to check the line, she may not be posting blogs for a few days.
Yes, she has access to the interweb at work (yay! wenchie is working!) but she's smart enough to not let her work techies see her connecting to this lovely blog at the office.
Keep checking here, she'll update soon. Promise!
kisses!
H
Posted at 09:32 AM | Comments (0)March 13, 2007
Shaken, Not Stirred
Sleep does not come easy for me, as we all know. Blame it on feng shui, biorhythms or an overactive imagination. So last night, it was quite wonderful -- and rare -- to still be deep in dreams beyond 4 a.m.
Suddenly, I was violently shaken awake by Husband. And I’m not talking about a nudge here, people. I’m talking about WE HAVE TEN SECONDS TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!!! That kind of shaken awake. The kind where your colon leaps up to join your tonsils, and you’re sure that, if no one is already dead, someone will be very, very soon.
I bolted upright and took the earplugs out of my ears… just in time to hear the all-too-familiar sound of Daisy preparing to hurl on the bedroom rug.
Quickly, I used my powers of levitation to whisk Daisy into the kitchen, where she could puke harmlessly on the linoleum!
Wait a minute. I don’t have powers of levitation. So why the fuck did Husband wake me with such urgency? What did he think I was going to do that he couldn’t do?
I’m more than happy to share in the responsibility of cleaning up middle-of-the-night, semi-digested piles of goo. But I hardly think an impending one warrants scaring the eternal living shit outta me.
PW: Darling? The next time you crave my company cleaning up dog barf? Please don’t violently shake me awake. Okay, sweetie?
H: But! She was about to throw-up!
PW: Which, while being gross, isn’t really a life-threatening emergency, is it, my love?
H: Well… I panicked.
And then? He turned on every light in the house in rapid succession. At 4:30 a.m. Thank God there wasn’t a plane about to fly into our house because I wouldn’t have been able to see my way to the door.
Posted at 07:59 AM | Comments (3)March 12, 2007
"The Girls Who Go To Prom"
Previously on “America’s Next Top Model,” Renee’s roommates all hate her. Jaslene had the best photo, and Kathleen went home for being too stupid to model. Wrap your brain around that one.
Samantha (whom I will call Sam from now on because I am lazy) is homesick. She feels like she doesn’t fit in, so it’s a good thing that she likes to be alone.
Tyramail! Babies learn to do it – can you? Walking!
The girls are taken to a high school. Oh cool! Drumline! Jesus, Miss J is the gayest drum major ever. And that’s really saying something.
The girls need to learn to walk precise, like a drumline. But really, this was all an excuse for Miss J to dress up like a Catholic schoolgirl, ruining my fantasies forever. That plaid skirt makes him look like a hippo.
Natasha confuses the word “marching” with “Martian,” and hilarity ensues. For about three seconds. Only in my living room.
Eight planes go overhead in formation. Damn! Was that planned? Kewl! Now we know where their budget for this episode went. Sorry for the crappy prize, challenge winner!
The girls have to walk on the track, and Sara’s shoe comes off. Hee! They all suck in general, and “Baby Elephant Walk” is played oh-so-appropriately over a montage of sucky walking. These girls can’t take direction for shit.
Then, they are to compete in a prom-themed fashion show with three distinct styles – Contemporary, 80’s and Ghetto. Classy. Backstage, the girls are ragging on each other and fretting. Just like high school! Which girl will hide their newborn baby in the dumpster, I wonder?
On the runway, in her Ghetto Prom dress, Sara has the granddaddy of all nip-slips. I mean, her teeny titties are just hanging out, falangling for all to see. And she just keeps going, like the little trooper-whore she is. And while I’m sure the many teenaged boys in the audience were quite tickled, she probably could have handled it a little better.
It’s funny. Most of the girls sucked, but when they are told so, they then go on to interview, “Well, I think I did really well!” Like they’re going to trick Tyra into thinking they weren’t running into each other at every opportunity.
And Britney wins! Awesome! I like her. But the poor thing gets the suckiest challenge prize EVER. It’s a huge bowling trophy with a gold spray-painted shoe on top. What the hell? Did their special prize endorsement fall through at the last minute?
Back at the house, all the girls are talking about how last week’s challenge-winner Jaslene actually sucked the worst this week, and how she must be pissed. And honestly, while I’m sure she’s disappointed in herself, she’s probably more pissed that everyone’s talking about her. In fact, she even confronts Felicia. Renee, on the other hand, is loving the drama, as she is a psychic vampire, and all the negative emotions feed her youthful appearance. She’s really 53.
Tyramail! BFF & 2good2B4gotten4ever! Keep in touch! LOL! ROTFL! WTF?
The girls go back to high school for a photo shoot. Wow, their budget really is in trouble. A professional stylist from Herbal Essence is there. They sell Herbal Essence at Target. ‘Nuff said.
Jael is the cutest-ever Nerd. Sara is the “Flirty Girl” (a.k.a. cocktease). Dionne is the Bad Girl. Cassandra is the Cheerleader.
Renee is the Class Clown, and she is piiiiiiiisssssssssssssssssed. Jay says she’s “painful to watch.” Her “friend” Jael is on the sidelines, giving encouraging words of advice, and Renee seethes so hard you can see the wavy cartoon lines coming off her. That’s poetic justice, right there.
Samantha is the Girl with the Bad Reputation. Jay tells her she needs to look sexy, like she’s masturbating. I assume. The word got bleeped out, even though everybody does it. You can say “bitch” on primetime, but you can’t say “masturbating.” Go figure.
Renee is off crying – literally crying -- because she didn’t get to be sexy. It’s called KARMA, baby! Suck it up!
Britney is the Valedictorian, appropriately. Whitney is the Mean Girl. And she looks exactly like 95% of the teenaged girls in this town, except that she’s black, and they don’t allow black people here. Unless they’re providing customer service in some way.
Diana is the Class President. Felicia is the Jock.
Jaslene is the Weirdo, which is apparently Marilyn Manson meets Judd Nelson’s character in “Breakfast Club.” (I can’t believe I forgot the name.) Renee is crying – again? still? -- because she didn’t get to be fierce like Jaslene. I’m loving this.
Natasha sucks as the Teacher’s Pet because she’s Russian and doesn’t know what a teacher’s pet is. Which I can understand. I mean, so they even have teachers in Russia?
Renee feels like she’s being picked on because she’s the only girl who… oh, I don’t even know. She just can’t model unless she’s looking sexy, and that kind of limitation isn’t going to get her far.
Back at the house, Jael is… naked, for some reason. Samantha is feeling alone in a house full of people.
Eliminations! Tyra is wearing another do-rag. Are her normal wigs at the cleaners or something? Miss J is going to be sporting another lei-type ruffle around his neck for each girl eliminated. Oh, this should be good.
Sara’s Flirty Girl is too sexy. Cassandra’s Cheerleader is just bored. Diana is really good as Class President. Dionne’s Bad Girl is smokin’.
Britney, the challenge-winner, as Valedictorian? Timeless, superb, nailed it.
Samantha’s not trampy enough for the Girl with the Bad Reputation. Felicia’s jock rocks. Jael really delivered as the Nerd, great body language.
The panel fawns over Jaslene’s Weirdo photo, which is awesome. But she breaks down and rats out the other girls for talking smack about her. Renee is behind her smirking and rolling her eyes and twirling her handlebar moustache.
Whitney’s Mean Girl lacked range. Well, isn’t that kind of the definition of a Mean Girl? Renee has energy as the Class Clown, but I think her photo sucks. Her nose looks huge, and all the tendons in her neck are sticking out. Yuck.
Natasha needs to relax her mouth and buy a clue.
Deliberations! Whitney needs a makeover, hopefully next episode. Twiggy wants to slap Natasha. HA! Oh, Tyra’s doing the pirate thing again. Nice boots, Ty-Ty!
Staying? Everyone but Samantha and Natasha. Sam leaves. Knew it.
Tyra tells Sam that she needs more time to find herself, and lose her virginity, before she can become a model.
Sam is all, "God has a plan for me." Yeah, I'm sure that plan included dressing like a slut for photos. God is so quirky that way!
Next week: Renee turns her spite onto Britney because Britney is now in the lead. Jael gets bad news from home, so we know she's probably going home.
Posted at 08:31 AM | Comments (0)March 09, 2007
Babbling about Mileage and Work and Whatnot
Just got back from the gyne. He checked under the hood, and the ol' vagirino is good for another six months or 6,000 miles -- whichever comes first.
And speaking of mileage, my Check Gage light finally went on today. Why do I say "finally?" Because I haven't put gas in my car since February 20th! And we all know I'm an arrogant, environment-hating SUV-driver, so that's really saying something!
My new commute is so awesome. Five minutes to drive from home to parking space; five minutes to hobble from parking garage to desk. I think, commuting to my previous job, I was working just to put gas in my car!
By that way of thinking, if I didn't have to drive to work, I would need to work... Hmmmmmmm. Well, I'd still have to drive to almost-Wisconsin to see Billi & Brood, so I guess that's worth working for. Sort of.
Speaking of work, as you know, part of my duties is answering the department phone and directing calls. (Ironic, no?) Since I only work five hours a day, when I come in every morning, there are voice messages waiting for me.
This morning, I got the following call from a local number (name changed to protect the guilty):
"Yeah, I'm calling for Tonia Stanford. She stole my car. She's driving my car, and she doesn't even have a license. She got her license suspended, but she took my car anway, and I want my car. So tell Tonia Stanford to bring my car back."
That's it. No name or number or anything. Giggling to myself, I assumed it was a wrong number. But just for the hoo-ha of it, I checked the company phone list.
And there was Tonia Stanford.
I was like, Oh my God, someone who works here got her license suspended and stole some guy's car. That is so awesome!
Well. As a receptionist, it is my moral duty to deliver phone messages. So I emailed Ms. Stanford:
"Hi! Someone called this department looking for you. He didn't leave his name, but he said something about wanting his car back. I thought I should probably tell you."
I mean, what do you say? I was kind of embarassed for her, knowing that I know she's a felon. But I had to tell her, right? What if she didn't realize that he didn't want an illegal driver stealing his car? I was obligated to tell her!
Awesome. I work with a criminal, and this job is STILL better than working with old G.M.
Posted at 03:56 PM | Comments (1)March 07, 2007
Billiweiss
I thought I'd share with you a few photos from Husband's 50th birthday party a couple weeks ago.
Surprisingly, this is not Britney Spears, but I can understand why you'd think so. Not every woman can juggle motherhood and alcoholism with such aplomb. This is actually Billi, after handing off her child to the caterer.
Remember the story of Lemonhead? The heartwrenching drama of one woman's attempt to garnish her child with fruit? (If not, you can start reading at the fifth paragraph down, "We ate in Mexico,...")
When Boy Child grows up, he'll he happy to find out that he's in good company. That is a Leinenkugel's Berryweiss on The Spare's head. As he sleeps. Dreaming, no doubt, of beer bongs and slutty co-eds.
Ah, the piece de resistance. Or something. I don't speak French.
The look for spring is fur, fur, fur! On the bottom, Husband sports a natty jockstrap made of real rabbit fur, compliments of K & G's recent Alaskan vacation! On top, The Boob Pillow -- a tradition of sorts in this crowd. The fur is faux, but the comfort it brings you is real!
Yes, that's The Spare in the photo. And yes, that's a beer next to him. I expect to hear from the Department for Child Services any moment now...
Posted at 08:46 AM | Comments (2)March 06, 2007
"The Girl Who STILL Won't Stop Talking"
Sara is an ugly, stuck-up bragger.
Oh, by the way, this is part two of the season premiere of "America's Next Top Model."
The girls are walking down the street in a free and easy manner that isn't staged at all. Jay drives up on a scooter in full leather gear. Jesus, he's not even butch enough for the Village People.
He announces the girls' first shoot with, "Fashion is a political world." He's on drugs. The girls have to sell a political view, which shouldn't be too hard, since they have about the same collective I.Q. as the Senate.
The girls are given different sides of controvertial issues. Fur-wearer vs. anti-fur; pro-choice vs. pro-life; death penalty vs. life in prison; gay marriage vs. straight marriage; vegan vs. carnivore; gun-toter vs. anti-gun.
(And just for shits and grins, let's see where Wenchie falls, shall we? Fur is tacky; pro-choice; death penalty but in very rare cases; I'd totally marry Heather; bacon is fucking awesome; I'm a pretty good shot with a rifle.)
We can tell by the way that Jay is hyping the photographer that it's someone we know. I grab the nearest chicken, slit it's throat, and pour more tequila on my Janice shrine, but alas, it turns out to be Nigel. Whoopee.
Renee, The Other Bitch Meat, is becoming a model for her family. So, apparently, her family is a lot different than my family, who wants me to use my brain and become a famous writer. But that doesn't make Renee's family bad...
Oh, who am I kidding. Of course, it does!
Seriously. Who puts on whorey lipgloss and some fugly clothes and thinks, This one is for Timmy! Ridiculous.
Jael has a fever and is feeling really sick. Hmm. Isn't it a bit early in the season for the Trying To Model Through One's Illness episode? It throws me off when they stray from the formula. There'd better be a fucking makeover episode coming up, or I'm gonna scratch Tyra's eyes out.
Kathleen is an airhead. I mean, even more so than the other girls.
Sara's all Oh, they expect more of me because I've done this before and shit. But experience doesn't spell non-suckiness.
Jael is all nerves and illness. Sara is ragging on Jael for... oh, I wasn't even paying attention. Can't we get another crazy bitch, like Jade? I hate these ones who are merely petty and jealous. Show me something new!
CariDee!!!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Natasha is sucking moose and squirrel balls. But Britney and Samantha make up for it as hot, ebony-and-ivory lesbians. Seriously, they're pretty convincing.
Afterwards, Jay makes the announcement that the girls were just flat, across the board. Hee!
The Tyramobile pulls up, full of Tyramail and a Tyrakey to the Tyrahouse. The theme of the house is past ANTM winners. Testament to these girls' future obscurity.
Wait. Jael likes Renee? Ew. She's like, "Renee is just the opposite of me." Yeah, Jael, she's a bitch.
Uh-oh. Sara wants to use modeling as a springboard to other careers. We all know how Tyra "Shake Your Body Body" Banks, of the Tyra Banks Show, hates those who want to use modeling to break into something else! Hopefully that means we won't be stuck with Sara for very long.
Okay, I'm gonna be a TOTAL racist for a moment and say how happy I am to see the white bitches finally getting some equal time. I mean, in past shows, the crazy bitches were always black. But now, it's Renee, Sara and Natashas -- three of the whitest crackers I've ever seen. Good for you, Tyra!
Tyramail. Ah, the old "trash vs. treasure" cliche. So if Phillip Bloch is in a Goodwill store, which is which?
The girls have three minutes to pull together an outfit that represents -- say it with me, class -- their own, personal style. Then they'll model it for a charity fashion show, i.e. some bums Miss J pulled off the street. Whoever has the outfit that auctions for the highest amount wins the challenge. I wonder if any of the outfits ended up in eBay...?
Jay says Kathleen's outfit "is straight-up Brooklyn hootchie." Hee!
Jael wins! YAY! Renee is all sour grapes and rags at Jael for caring if the other girls are mad that she won. I'm sorry -- why are they friends? Does Jael not have a Bitch Detector?
Okay, at this point, my tape ran out, like, 20 minutes into the show. I had to tape it because Husband wanted to go see a movie, and we hadn't gone out in eons. But the tape ran out, so I had to wait until Sunday night for the rerun. But then "Family Guy" was on until 8:30, and I can't miss "Family Guy." So there's, like, 10 minutes of the show missing from my recap. But you won't even notice.
Tyramail! Eliminations!
Renee rags to Diana about the other girls and how no one wants to be here as much as her. Did Renee not watch last season? BITCHES DON'T WIN!
Tyra wears a do-rag and Mr. T's necklaces to judging. God, we need Janice back.
Jael is called up first, and Tyra admonishes her for "dulling her shine to make people like her."
First of all, that's clearly not what she did because, if she had, she wouldn't have won. Secondly, she's obviously aware of the House o' Hos she's dealing with and doesn't want to be party to unnecessary drama. And who could blame her?
Her pro-life photo is pretty but with no emotion. She tries to blame the fever, not having learned from the actions of past sickies, and then cops to that not really being an excuse.
Pro-choice Natasha blends into the wall.
Dionne is good but not great, which may explain why I can't remember which one she is.
Cassandra is too pretty.
Renee looks scared and timid as the anti-gun hippie. But that's because she's "always thinking about her son."
[Moves soapbox into place.] If her son is so fucking important, she wouldn't have committed to something that's going to keep her away from him for -- what -- thirteen weeks? She also wouldn't be pursuing a career that will keep her away from him for half the year. So shutthefuckup, Renee. Quit trying to justify your narcissistic bullshit. [Puts soapbox away.]
Diana has dead eyes but good, pro-gun action shots.
Kathleen... oh, where do I start. First, they ask her how she feels about fur, and she says something about it being okay to use the fur if the animal is already dead. So I guess if you find a dead chinchilla in the forest, it's okay to make yourself a muff? Then she cops to not getting the concept of anti-fur, but she didn't want to admit it then and "seem slow."
Seem?
Britney is striking in head-to-toe fur.
Whitney and Samantha are good as the lesbians, but Samantha "took the photo."
Felicia did a good job as the bride in a straight marriage, very kitch.
Jaslene is fierce as the Death Penalty Dominatrix. And that's because she's a tranny.
Sara's face is the same in every shot -- ugly.
Deliberations. Tyra is the least satisfied that she's ever been. Hee!
Names are called, photos are handed out until only Kathleen and Jael remain. Damn. I like both of them. Jael stays, and I'm kinda bummed that I won't be seeing Kathleen getting that shrubbery removed from her head during the makeover episode.
They basically got rid of her for being dumb because she did a better photo than some of the other girls. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, yes, as a rule, I'm anti-stupid. But... she's modeling.
Anyway, the stupid girl gives a pretty smart parting speech. She says, going home first, she feels like she didn't get a real chance to compete, but if Tyra saw potential in her, she's going to keep working hard to get what she wants.
I'm happy to report that, by the end of this episode, Husband was hooked again. BWAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAA!
Next episode: cheerleaders, Hot-For-Teacher and a nip-slip! Oh, Husband is definately gonna wanna be on board for this one!
Posted at 08:48 AM | Comments (0)March 05, 2007
Flying High
My friend Natalie was in town briefly, and I always enjoy hearing stories of her romantic trials. A Chicago gal through and through, she currently lives in New York because that's where you go to break onto Broadway. I send her a check every month because I plan to have my big, lily-white butt firmly planted on her coattails, once she makes it big.
Anyhoo, we caught up over some lovely Panera paninis (say that ten times fast!), and we got to trading stories of our dating escapades gone horribly awry. I was reminded of one of my favorites.
I briefly dated an Italian guy named Marco. So briefly, my Mom probably doesn't even remember any of this. In fact, I'm not even positive Marco was his name. A friend of mine in college set us up because she thought we'd look good together. Seriously -- that was her entire motivation. And sadly, I went for it.
Hey, if I wasn't stupid, I'd have nothing to blog about, so shut up!
One summer evening, he was driving us to the movies. Out of the blue, he said to me, "You know, I wouldn't even tell you this, except that I'm really flying high on acid right now."
Uh-huh. Acid.
In the passenger seat, I was thinking, Boy, a conversation that starts like that probably isn't going to go very well. I was also thinking, He's probably not as in control of this car as I'd like. But I let him continue, out of sheer morbid curiosity.
He said, "You should probably know that I'm a dealer."
"Like, a car dealer?" I asked, knowing damn well that's not what he meant but hoping to impress upon him the absurdity of the current situation.
"No, like a drug dealer. Coke and pot."
"You're kidding me."
"What? It's not like I'm pushing it to little kids on the playground. The people I sell to would just get it somewhere else if I didn't provide it."
Cuz that makes it okay. He's just providing a public service! I made my displeasure clear, and then he got all defensive and blamed ME for not having figured it out on my own.
"Where did you think I got this car and this stereo? You think I paid for that with my day job?!"
"Well, you live with your parents, so, yeah! I did!"
He wanted to continue to berate me for being a "silly, little girl," but I told him to stop the car. And he did. Right in the middle of the street. Luckily, we weren't far from my house, and it was still pretty light out, so I walked home.
My parents were surprised to see me home so early, and hell if my shellshocked brain could come up with a good excuse, so I just told them the truth. I got out of the car because my date admitted to be flying high on acid.
As you may imagine, they didn't know quite what to do with that information. They couldn't really get mad because, upon learning I was dating a coke dealer, I had done the right thing. So they just made sure I had no intention of seeing him again, and we watched some t.v.
Who drives a car on acid? And how did I not know I was dating a drug dealer? God, I'm so glad I'm not nineteen anymore.
Posted at 07:47 AM | Comments (2)March 01, 2007
"The Girl Who Won't Stop Talking"
And for the first time ever, the producers and I agree on the perfect title for this episode.
For this season of “America’s Next Top Model,” I’ve decided not to make the recaps quite as long. I have many opinions and much to say, but I’m pretty much the only one interested, so I’ll keep it short… er.
The season premiere opens with Tyra’s self-indulgent story of fame and glory, accompanied by more photos than the human eye can register in 30 seconds.
Thirty-three homely, scrawny bitches have been flown to L.A. Including, but not limited to: Natasha of the Billion Hair Follicles, who was born in Russia; and Jaslene the Charro-wanna-be from last season, back with better hair.
The models are taken to the local Marine base, where Jay and Miss Jay show-up in skin-tight camo, blowing the don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy all to hell. They tell the girls, in their best macho voices (sounding more like my Mom than anything else), that they aren’t ready to see Tyra yet. Hence, model boot camp. Oh, if only.
(Ah, the first oh-if-only of the season. Are you tearing up? I am.)
GAH! Heather’s eyes are too far apart, and she’s scaring the shit outta me.
The girls go get in Marine gear and run like girls.
I immediately love Jael, who speaks for all of us when she says, “It’s just modeling! We’re not curing cancer here!” I hope they do something cute with her hair in the makeover episode.
The girls must march in high heels. I’m pretty sure they had to do that at Auschwitz, too.
Tyra comes in “stepping,” which is, we learn from the ghetto chick, some form of dancing. Like a monkey. Krunking, stepping – who says this show isn’t educational?
We are just informed that this is cycle eight of ANTM, and I’m left reeling a bit, thinking of all that time I’ll never get back. My life is such a waste. Jesus must hate me.
The girls are taken to some hotel in L.A. where they have their one-on-three interviews with Tyra and The Js. We get to see the “highlights.”
Kathleen practically humps Tyra’s leg and can’t stop saying “pretty.” Don’t show her anything shiny. Jay asks The Makeover Question, and she’s all, “Oh, you can do anything you want to me!” So you know she’ll be the first to cry. Lookin’ forward to it.
Sara is just ugly. Yuck. I should have auditioned.
Cassandra is wearing red pleather boots, and I secretly love her for it. She admits to being ghetto (the first step towards recovery), and has sewn her wig to her head. Ow.
GAH! Heather’s eyes are back.
Brittney admits to being loud. Tyra’s like, “Have you had your hearing checked?” And Brit is all, “Pardon?” Tyra and The Js have a good laugh at that, because deafness is high hilarity.
Natasha dresses like a mail order bride. Oops! She IS a mail order bride! At 18, she married a 40 year old American man who brought her here from Russia and “changed her life.” I’ll bet he did.
The girls hate Sara already, and Natasha quickly outs herself as a total bitch. It’s awesome.
CARIDEE!!! DANI(elle)!!! Awwww, they look so pretty! Hi, girls!
Micheline is a biker chick or something. She has 20 tattoos. Too bad because her face is stunning.
Samantha is the token hick. The biggest thing to ever hit her town was the Butterbean Festival. You just can’t make this shit up, people. Say “butterbean” ten times fast! It’s fun!
Melissa is from the Bronx. Christ, that voice. She had to borrow her weave back from her friend for the show. Yes, borrow… back. So she got the weave, lent it to her friend, then had to take it back. I didn’t even know you could do that. That’s nasty. How much beer do you think is in that thing? She’s only 5’7”. Seriously – why didn’t I audition?
Then there’s the montage of the girls who weren’t freakish enough to warrant their own cameos, including The Girl Who Won’t Shut Up.
Oh God. Charro’s back. Do you remember John Leguizamo’s character in “To Wong Foo Thanks For Everything, Julie Newmar?” She’s exactly like that, only less hot.
Renee’s “son is [her] world.” Which is why she left him for thirteen weeks. I hope he starts calling the nanny “mama.” She clashes horns with Natasha. Well, it takes one to know one, doesn’t it, Renee?
Whitney Plus-Size is busting outta her top. Oh my.
Jael cries, she’s so overwhelmed by being in Tyra’s presence. Or perhaps it’s the sudden realization that, if she doesn’t stop bleaching the shit outta her hair, she, too, will one day be doomed to wearing wigs. Jael is half black, half German-Jew. She looks Polish to me. Whatever. I adore her.
Diana is the other plus-sized.
Felicia’s brows are over-tweezed and uneven. Gross.
The Js make the first cut via gift bags. They’re classy to the last.
Awwwwww, Bettie Paige is going home. Damn.
The girls go to some party with some designers no one knows and get their photos taken. Natasha dances like the rent is late, so it’s ironic that, later in the show, the other girls are burping, and she tells them to be ladies.
Tyra and the Js have to narrow it down from 20 girls to 13. An easy task, if you ask me.
The Js loooooooooooooooove Sara. Yuck.
And the 13 are (and if you've seen the photos, you already know): Natasha, Kathleen of the Bozo hair, Sara, Cassandra, Renee, Samantha, 1B30 (which refers to her hair color because I don’t remember her name), Whitney, Britney the Deaf, Felicia, Jael (YAY!) (oh dear Lord, she’s wearing a red tu-tu), Jaslene/Charro/John, and Diana.
Learn these names. We will come to hate most of them.
Thank God that Heather didn’t make it. There’s no room in this blog for two Heathers.
Was that short… er?
Posted at 06:00 PM | Comments (5)