March 31, 2008
All That Is Splendid In America: Part 2
Okay, okay, so it's not "tomorrow," as promised in the prequel, but hey, at least I got to the second part. Unlike most of my other mini-series. I suck.
When we last left our heroes, they were just quaffing down the last of their beer and saying adieu to the hole-in-the-wall that is classic Chicago dining.
Inga had bought so much stuff on her trip to Chicago that she needed another big tote bag to take on the plane back to New Jersey. Heather can smell one drop of couture in 500,000 gallons of air, so we soon found ourselves in retail heaven. Unfortunately, where simple chocolate is 12 pieces for $14, you ain't exactly going to find a tote that fits a college student's budget. So we indulged in $5 worth of dessert and were back out on the street.
And can I just say? When the hell did Puma become foot couture? When I was in school, Puma was what the poor kids wore because they couldn't afford Nike. And now it's on the same freakin' display table as the Coach footwear! A hundred bucks for freakin' Puma? What did that happen?!
With empty hands up full stomachs, we began the long march back to my car, via The Bean. Heather abandoned us to go back to work (whatev), so thank God that Sue was there to once again to lead us through the maze that is downtown Chicago.
(Yes, I know, Chicago is laid out in a perfect grid pattern. Shut up. It's not like you can see through the buildings!)
Okay, seriously, what the hell is up with The Bean. People spent $23 million dollars on a giant, silver jelly bean. It's totally whacked. I just don't get it. Was Chicago really that hard up for more landmark tourist attractions?
You decide.
By this point, I was tired and crabby and in serious need of a nap. I tried to get everyone out of my way so that I could get a photo of just The Bean, but the damn out-of-towners weren't cooperating. This isn't New York, people! We're accomodating here! Jerks.
We all took some photos and trekked across Millenium Park back to the car. I think it took a Millenium. Captain Von Trapp was like, "You kids, pipe down! These Alps aren't so bad. At least we're not having to walk across Chicago!"
There's only one thing to do when you're tired and crabby and tired and did I mention tired? Cocktails.
The funny thing about the John Hancock building is that you can see it from anywhere in Chicago... except when you're near it. And then you can't get to it. Unless you are motivated by the prospect of alcohol to persevere. Which we were. And did.
Since we aren't high-priced hookers, we couldn't afford dinner in the Signature Room, so instead, we hit the Signature Lounge, which still cost us $35 for three drinks! And I'm not even going to tell you what I paid for parking. It'll ruin your day.
In the lobby...
PW: Inga, I forgot to ask you if you're afraid of heights.
Inga: I am.
Sue: So am I.
PW: Well, crap! I am, too! Why are we doing this?!
Sue: Because as long as I can have a martini when I get to the top, I'll be fine.
PW: Inga, we don't have to go, if you don't want to. Sue can have a martini at home.
Inga: No, I want to go!
Sue: I didn't know you were afraid of heights.
PW: Well, it's not so much heights as it is really tall buildings. Mountains I'm okay with. If someone flies a plane into a mountain I'm on, I stand a much better chance of surviving.
Sue: Great. Now I need two martinis.
We didn't sit at one of the tables that was pressed up against the pane of glass separating the patrons from a very long plummet to their deaths, so we were all okay. And it was a beautiful day, so we had a great view.
So that's the end of our adventure in The City of Big Shoulders. I didn't see any exceptionally big shoulders, so that was disappointing. But maybe they were all working, and at 5:00, when everyone is walking to the train, it's almost impossible to move because of all the men with their big, burly shoulders taking up all the room on the sidewalks.
Ah, well, a girl can dream.
Posted at 01:12 PM | Comments (2)March 27, 2008
"The Girls Sharpen Their Claws and Deal with Racism"
I'm just making up my own episode titles now.
Previously on "America's Next Top Model," Wenchie failed to get her husband interested in this season. There has been a real lack of hot tub and/or shower scenes.
The girls are in a big stretch cab talking about Aimee's skin. And while her ego is growing ginormous, Lauren's lack of confidence has become a real issue. Probably because she's ugly and makes me want to shove a sharp pencil in my ear every time she opens her damn mouth. Why does she even bother to open her mouth when she's just going to talk out of her nose anyway???
Claire is on the phone talking to her husband... about her milk drying up. And we are treated to a lovely shot of her pumping her breast milk. Oh joy.
Dom's alarm goes off way early and wakes up Claire. Apparently, for the fourth, sixth or seventh time, depending on which part of Claire's tirade you believe. Dom blames it the on the many, complicated settings, but Claire isn't buying it and calls her a "shady bitch." Hee! Also? If Dom can't work an alarm clock, then I believe she's indeed fully qualified to be a top model.
Claire also tells Dom to take responsibility for herself instead of blaming the clock. And she has a point. Dom is not exactly Miss Personal Responsibility Taker.
Aimee says that, at 18, she thinks she's more mature than some of the older girls. I may have to agree with her.
Dom and Claire argue during breakfast. Seeing a speck of blood on Dom, Lauren starts pecking away, too. And then Dom tells her to "stay in your place." You can imagine how well this sits with Miss Punk Rock Anarchy. Not well at all, I'm afraid, and the screaming escalates.
Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Whit tell Dom to "get in the trash where you belong." Wheeeeeeeeee! This is definitely better than a grade school playground scuffle!
Cut to Dom interviewing that it was like Christmas for the girls, ganging up on her like that. I know it was for me! And then she pulls the same old shit that all the divas pull -- "It's because I'm so strong and they're threatened by me, so they're trying to bring me down." Whatev.
"You're CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAZZZYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!" continues Lauren. "Everything you say is just verbal diarrhea!"
Oh, and Husband is now caught up in this season. Yay! It was the fighting. And Whitney. Which bodes well for me, considering she's the plus-size model. A size 10 -- the horror!
Dom cries on the phone to her Mom, who tells her that she's "on a journey" and to "keep your eyes on the goal." The goal of becoming this season's Bitch Who Everyone Hates.
Tyra Mail! Something about being sick and getting better. Oh, please, God, let their next shoot be as naughty nurses!
When the girls arrive at their destination in their maxi-cab, Tyra reveals herself to be the driver. Okay, that's kinda funny, Tyra Banks driving these sorry-ass losers around town.
The girls go up to the dance studio and get dressed to practice walking and posing with Tyra. While walking fiercely, Tyra feigns a twisted ankle in a BRILLIANTLY ACTED segue to "posing with pain." Oh, that Tyra, she's so clever!
Anya is fierce, Whit does really well, but Aimee doesn't commit, and Lauren looks like "an addict." HA!
Tyra tells the girls, when they get stuck during a shoot, to think about pain and listen to the music in their head. Eek.
Tyra Mail! The posing was actually a challenge, and Anya won. She gets a one-on-one photo shoot with Nigel to plump up her portfolio. Huh. I guess Nigel drew the short straw this season.
At the shoot, Nigel explains that he wants this shoot to be timeless and never look out-of-date in her portfolio, so she's going to be naked. Oh, those pesky clothes, always getting in the way! Husband is bummed out that it's not Whitney.
Nigel says that Anya "doesn't know how good she is." Anya feels very comfortable being naked. Aimee, on the other hand, interviews that being naked is wrong. Great career choice, Aimee! Really thought that one through, did ya?
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Dom is sick on bed with a migraine because God smote her for being offensive in His sight. Claire, Lauren and Whitney sit on a couch in that same room and recount the fight at breakfast like she's not there. It's brilliant.
Dom interviews, "Look at the monkeys dance." RACIST!!!
The three girls are totally bonding over their hatred of Dom, but Claire is clearly the ringleader. She's gleefully enjoying Dom's annoyance, and the other girls are looking to her to see how far to take it.
Tyra Mail! Something is a good gig, if you can get it. Modeling, I guess.
Jay! Have you guys heard about Jay and Tyra's feud? (Linky goodness supplied by Lolly!) First, Tyra runs off Janice, and now she's working on Jay! God only knows what she did to Twiggy! Has anyone even seen her lately?
Jay tells the girls that they are in Williamsburg, which is supposedly usurping Manhattan as the center of music. If he says so! Each girl is going to embody a different style of music. Oh, Dom has to be jazz because that's the music of assholes.
Fatima is Metal and loving it. Because Motley Crue don't shave their armpits either! Jay says she "looks the part, but then she start posing."
Kat is Emo. Ha! Emo is so gay. Except that Kat looks awesome.
Lauren is Pop and comes out in Brit-Brit-esque red pleather, down to the spike-heeled hooker boots. She almost falls over trying to walk in them, and Jay goes, "Be careful, Tippy Tumbles!" I giggled for ten minutes. Lauren wah-wah-wahs that she has spent her whole life avoiding pop music. Hmm. Perhaps she should set some higher goals for herself? I'm just sayin'.
Claire is Country, complete with pink flouncy skirt. Cute! After many awkward poses, Jay tells her to "find a balance between couture and country," but she doesn't. Speaking of country, at church on Easter, one mother put her poor little girl in PINK, METALLIC COWBOY BOOTS with her darling Easter dress. I thought Jesus was gonna come outta the tomb hurling lightening bolts! Or whatever magical powers he has.
Dom is Folk and randomly interviews that "they all wanna be like me." I'm not sure what it has to do with the shoot, so I think the editors wanted to make sure we don't forget that we hate her. She does some hippie poses and looks like she's old enough to have been around then.
Anya is Punk. Jay complains that she "let the outfit and make-up do the work." I wonder if I can get my clothes to do my work? That would be handy!
Stacy is House. She's all posey, earning Jay's ire.
Aimee is R&B. She loves her outfit and is thinking "diva," but Jay complains that she has no experience or passion. Dude, she's 18.
Whit is Grunge. They put her on a diving board over an empty pool, and she complains that she's afraid of heights. Ten feet is heights? She does really great, and Jay calls her "genius." In your face, skinny bitches!
Tyra Mail! Judging.
Claire is worried that her shoot didn't go well. Lauren is worried that her confidence sucks. At Panel, everyone looks at the photos.
Whit is very "believable" as Grunge. She took some risks, and the photo they like is a "risk that worked."
They love Fatima's legs as Metal. You know how Miss J loves the broke-down doll look, and she is "workin' it."
Anya said that working with Nigel was fun, and kudos to her for not saying anything stupid and offending him because you know how prissy he is. Her photos are... something about "finding the light." But don't walk towards it, you crazy albino!
Lauren is "extremely beautiful" as Pop but needs to be more awake. Maybe they don't know that she always talks like that.
Aimee struggled with R&B. Suck, suck, suck.
Stacy's House poses were too obvious.
Miss J asks regarding Kat's Emo, "Is that white music?" Oh, c'mon, Miss J, you know what emo music is. You just wanted to make us crackers look stupid. Tyra thinks Kat's photo is the best of them all, and she also loves Kat in the short wig. I think Kat is getting a haircut!
Claire is "too tough" being Country. It was her worst shoot to date.
Dom is believable as Folk and looks "soft." But then they say funny things about her head, torso and legs "not communicating" or something. Modeling is so weird.
Commercials, and Claire is Cover Girl of the week -- AGAIN!!!
Deliberations!
Whitney is "coming out." Wait. Did I miss something?
Fatima is disappointing. Lauren is awkward. Aimee looks like "bad Vegas garbage." HAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Kat is interesting and needs a haircut. Claire totally missed the mark. Dom improved, but she's "still not there." Stacy looks like "a Jamaican DJ." Will the racism never end???
Tyra calls: Whitney, Kat, Fatima, Lauren, Anya, Dom and Stacy. Leaving Claire and Aimee in the bottom two. Dear God, not Claire!!!
The Panel is shocked at how badly both girls sucked this week. But Claire sucked less! YAY!!! But the warn her that modeling isn't just about being fierce.
Aimee cries a lot.
Next week: Go-sees, Whitney takes a beating, and Lauren's temper gets out of control.
Posted at 02:46 PM | Comments (3)March 25, 2008
All That Is Splendid in America: Part 1
Recently, I found out that I have another cousin in Norway. Turns out, my grandmother and her great grandmother were sisters, which makes us... second cousins once removed, I believe. So we can totally get married.
Except that she’s a she. Which would be awkward. Is that legal in Norway? I’m going to assume that it is, since those wacky Norwegians -– and their neighbors -– are waaaaaaaaay ahead of us Puritan Americans on so many other levels of coolness.
Inga is studying to be an English translator. She wants to translate books and movies -– stuff like that. I tell ya, her written English is far better than any you’ll find on THIS blog, dat’s fer damn shure!
She’s from the small town of Spydeberg, Norway (45 min. south of Oslo). Which is not, much to my chagrin, pronounced “Spidey-berg.” Because how cool would that be?! No, it’s pronounced spee’-dih-behrg. Or something.
This semester, she’s going to school in New Jersey, for some exposure to the English language.
Now, people. Can you imagine? She has friends who went to England, Canada and Australia to learn English, and she’s gonna go home with a New Jersey accent. God help us. And until this week, New Jersey was the only part of America she had seen! Well, that and New York, which is basically Chicago-Wanna-Be, so that doesn’t really count.
But finally, on Wednesday, all of Inga’s dreams of the land of opportunity came true when Sue and I took her downtown Chicago to witness all that is pure and shining and splendid in America. That’s right, we went to Billy Goat for lunch.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Sue came with us because she was available (being a teacher and on spring break this week), and because she is more familiar with Chicago than I am. Which, admittedly, isn’t saying much, but thank God she was there to navigate. I drove, while she discussed our options from the map, we’d vote on it, and then I’d turn the wheel. Driving by committee. Recommended for all suburbanites who dare to leave the sanctity of their gated communities.
The three of us went to the Art Institute first. My two must-sees: the Thorne Rooms (little tiny opulent dollhouse rooms!!!!! squeeeeeee!) and the European wing, 1500s-1800s. There’s something about old religious art that fascinates me. (As a Scorpio, I am interested in both the holy and the profane.)
I’m all, “Look at the light on the folds of her sleeve!” and “I wonder what’s the significance of the caribou in this picture?” And I’m sure Inga was like, “You know, we do have art in Oslo. Can we go now?” Mind you, regardless of how I sound, I’m too ignorant to be pretentious. I’m merely retarded and easily distracted by pretty things.
(By the way, I have a six-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon kind of link with one of the guys who helped build the Thorne rooms, but I’m not telling you which one or how because I don’t want you weirdos stalking me. Unless you’re hott. Or bitterly sarcastic. Then please email me at piratewenchdotorg@yahoo.com, and I’ll email you directions to my house.)
(Oh, also? I’m pretty sure my grandfather has a piece or two displayed in the museum, too, but I’m not telling you what. See above parenthetical paragraph.)
Speaking of pretty things, we made Heather meet us at the Billy Goat
The original Billy Goat Tavern is a seedy dive underneath Michigan Ave. that’s famous because of... some curse? And a goat? And the Cubs? I don’t know. Someone told me once, but the explanation is almost as boring as the game of baseball itself, so I forgot. Still, Wrigley Field is pretty, and we’d all rather be there with a beer in hand than at work on a weekday, so we go, and we make supernatural excuses for what we all know to be true deep in our hearts -– the Cubbies suck.
Oh, it’s also famous because John Belushi immortalized the Billy Goat’s colorful atmosphere in an SNL skit some decades back. “Cheeseborger, cheeseborger, cheeseborger! No fries – chips! No Coke – Pepsi!” Classic, and yet not on YouTube. (I'm writing my congressman.)
Heather arrived first and tipped the toothless busboy five bucks to save a table for us while she got a burger. So when he arrived, he was all, "What can I get you to drink?" and pulling our chairs out for us. Five bucks can still buy you some serious bowing and scraping!
When we finally got there, that is. The Billy Goat is on Lower Michican, and when you're standing on normal Michigan, it can be kind of a challenge. It's like, "Okay, we want to be... directly below where we are right now. Anyone see any stairs?"
I had Sue and Inga sit down while I got burgers for everyone. Including Heather, who was still hungry after her first. And when I got back, there was beer waiting for me. Sometimes the world just works like that -- in perfect synchronicity.
I'm sure Inga now thinks that Chicago is populated entirely by white trash. Geez, even taking her to Ed Debevic's would have been classier! The Billy Goat never sees the light of day, which is fine because the windows are all boarded up anyway. The menu consists of about five things, and if you don't order the way the guy behind the counter wants you to order, he hassles you.
It was fun watching the tourists in front of me wrap their brains around the fact that the Billy Goat doesn't serve fries. Well, funny for a while. And then I wanted to punch them. "Man, I was really looking forward to some fries." "No fries -- chips! Don't make me call 911!"
Does Mr. Billy Goat call 911 on the stupid tourists? Find out tomorrow, when the adventures continue!
Posted at 07:02 AM | Comments (2)March 24, 2008
"Top Model Takes It To the Streets"
Oh, my darlings, I have failed you! I didn't watch "America's Next Top Model" two weeks ago! And I can't recap what I haven't seen, so I have left you swimming in a dark sea of confusion, lost and alone!
So, yeah, missed it. Sorry. But from the Previouslies, I learned that the girls did some designer runway show, a photo shoot in a meat packing plant (so bummed I missed that!), and Amis went home. Probably because of the terrible Xanadu-esque headband she wore to Panel. Stupid girl.
Fatima was in the bottom two with Amis, which she finds shocking, but the rest of us don't. She resolves to practice.
Marvita, in context of nothing, says that she can't stay with anyone and doesn't believe in "happy hand-holding" because she was raped and molested.
Claire thinks that Marvita is a crazy hood-rat. Now, Claire, I love you, but if you diss Marv, your stock is going to take a hit. So stop it. Play nice.
Whitney offers someone (Fatima, I think?) some banana bread, to which the someone replies, "Why, so I can be fat like you?" RUDE! And dudes, Whitney is hardly "fat" -- she's just not replacing meals with laxatives and cigarettes.
Whitney says that she doesn't believe in the word "fat," and she was called second in panel last time, so she's not worried about her size. Then she muses, "Maybe she meant phat -- P.H.A.T...?"
Tyra Mail! Something about The Three Cs.
Eeek! Oh, it's only Benny Ninja. Dude looks like Templeton the rat. He scares the shit outta me. Benny is joined by Vendela, a Swedish/Norwegian supermodel/actress. Apparently, The Three Cs are Catalogue, Commercial and Couture, and Benny and Venny are there to teach them.
There's lots of ridiculous posing. Benny tells Whitney that she looks like Anna Nicole Smith. And I disagree -- Whitney looks like she's only been dead for a few days. A week tops.
Back at the ranch, Dom didn't remember what phone time she signed up for, which she blamed on Whitney, adding that her phone time is more important than Whitney's because she has a child. (A child that she left for thirteen weeks. I'm just sayin'.)
So it's on between Dom and Whit. Dom keeps trying to say that it's Whitney's responsibility to tell Dom when it's her turn on the phone, but the rest of the girls are like, "Well, we didn't need to be reminded when it was our turn."
Dom stands her pathetic ground and tells Whit that she has no respect for other people, which is probably true but beside the point, in this case. Whitney tells her, "I have no reason to respect you. You speak all the time out of your ass."
Then, as a final and desparate act, Dom throws out the race card. Wait -- is Dom not white? Or at least 75% white? Is Whitney a self-loathing white girl who is racist against caucasians? I'm confused.
Well, this gets Whit all in a tizzy. "You can call me a bitch, fine, but don't call me a racist! My best friend is black!"
I love that. Also? Besides the point. My best friends are Irish, but that doesn't mean I don't think all the hoopla about St. Patrick's Day is pretty retarded. Oooh, I'm a racist!
Oh my God. Why is Janice Dickinson doing Orbit gum commercials? Is her show not doing well? Janice, call me, we'll talk.
Back to the show, Dom and Whit are still at it, when Whitney randomly exclaims, "Where's the Saran Wrap?" Is that a racist joke? I don't get it.
Tyra Mail! Something about bringing it to the center. I don't know.
Benny and Venny meet the girls in Brooklyn, along with The Best Posers In the World. Or so they claim. The girls are going to be split into two teams and DUEL TO THE DEATH!!! Wait, no. They're just going to pose. The winners get a trip to The Swag Tent, and the number one poser gets an even more special surprise.
Oh my God! How badly do I want a trip to The Swag Tent?! Doesn't that sound like heaven?!
In the posing face-offs: Claire vs. Dom is a tie; Lauren vs. Marv, Lauren wins; Anya vs. Stacy, Stacy wins.
Fatima vs. Whitney. Whitney wins, despite the fact that Fatima was basically on top of her and, at one point, had her disfigured vag all up in Whitney's face. Ew. People, if Fatima is not shaving her pits... well, I won't go there.
Aimee vs. Kat, Kat wins, making Team B the winners. Marv confesses that she's totally freeloading off the rest of the team because she didn't bring in any points. Awwwww.
Claire is the winner of all the posers, and Benny and Venny call her amazing! YAY!
On to The Swag Tent! Sponsored by Backstate Creations, which is the company that does the gift bags for the Oscars and stuff. Because, ya know, celebrities need lots of expensive stuff for free. Fuckers.
And Claire gets to go to Bora Bora. At some undetermined point in time. Huh.
Fatima bitches some more about Marvita, calling her "ghetto" and "hood." As if the girl can help where she was brought up. Fatima is a stuck-up bitch.
Hey, it's Saleisha's Cover Girl commercial! Oh, thank God they changed her hair.
Back at ANTM, Marv is wondering if maybe she really is too ghetto for this competition. You guys, this totally sucks. The Man is keeping Marvie down, and in this case, The Man is bulemic wanna-be models. How sad is that? Don't listen to them, Marvilina!
Tyra Mail! Something about being naked in coats. Oh, please, God.
It's Jay! Seriously, why isn't Jay on Panel? He does all the damn work, while Tyra, Nigel and Miss J hang around Tyra's hotel suite and watch "Project Runway" and eat pot brownies.
The photo shoot is a close-up jewelry shoot where the girls will have paint splattered on them. Groovy. I hope they don't ruin the bling!
Marvita's soul has clearly been eaten by Fatima, so even Jay's big-sister-esque pep-talk can't help her. Fatima watches Marv with unconcealed disdain. It's all very sad, as is Marv's expression in her photos.
Ew. The girls actually get think, gooey paint poured on their heads. But they all seem to do really well. Except for Fatima, whom Jay accuses of over-thinking... and sucking. Welcome to Karmatown. Population: Fatima.
Jay also comments that Marv is a disaster, and it seems like she has already checked out.
Panel! Vendela is there, and Tyra introduces her as a supermodel from Scandinavia. SCANDINAVIA IS NOT A COUNTRY! Jesus H. Rosemaling Christ, can't you just say she's from Norway or whatever??? The panel checks out the girls' photos, oblivious to my rage.
Dom is "softer" and "more subtle" than they've seen her before. But she still looks like a dude.
Anya "needs more in her eyes." I assume they're talking about fierceness and not paint.
Kat has "great eyes" and looks "sophisticated."
Fatima doesn't shave her armpits, and it's the shot heard 'round the world, ladies and gentlemen. But other than that, she looks "fantastic." Nigel gives her some good advice: photo touch-ups are expensive; razors are cheap. Hee!
Lauren looks "gorgeous," but I still want to beat her up for being so retarded. She apologizes for coming to Panel in gym shoes, but someone stole her heels. I think it's interesting that she accuses the girls of being theives and doesn't assume that maybe her slobby self just lost them. Tyra is convinced that, because they are a size 10, some drag queen stole them. Heather?
Whitney is "not taking the competition seriously," according to Vendela.
Claire needs about "an inch more neck," but what she lacks in neck, she makes up for in "power." Claire, I will so babysit your kid.
Marvita seems "defeated." Her photo looks "sad," but "at least there's some emotion there." She looks like an "orphan modeling." Poor thing. She's so going home. Tyra hates a quitter, Marvita!
Stacy's lips are much loved, but Jay said she seemed lost during the shoot.
Aimee's skin is "insanely beautiful," but she's a "chameleon," which is a bad thing because it means she doesn't have her own look. Judging from this photo, I think her look is Psycho Chick Who Just Survived A Particularly Vicious Sneeze.
Deliberations! But first -- commercials. And Claire is the Cover Girl pick of the week for the fourth week running! YAY!
What the hell is on Miss J's eyebrows? Is that white glitter? He's so fucking retarded sometimes.
Dom is "almost getting it," but Anya's is "not good" close up. Kat is "losing her Wow factor." Fatima is "old enough to know better" than to be an unshaven model. Whitney just "does not have what it takes."
Damn, the judges really took their crabby pills that day.
Claire looks "confident;" Marvita, on the other hand, seems "uncomfortable" and is "giving up." Aimee can be "20 different people" but has "no self." Stacy is "improving," while they compare Lauren to "Young Frankenstein."
Okay, that's a low blow. "Young Frankenstein" is my favorite movie ever, and every frame is a work of art. Do NOT compare it with Lauren of the gawky gawkiness. Ugh.
A decision has been made, and the girls are called in the following order: Stacy, Dom, Claire (okay, how did those two get called before Claire of the Amazing Amazingness?), Anya, Lauren, Aimee, Kat, Fatima.
Marvita and Whitney are in the bottom two for related reasons. Neither of them seem to be wholly invested in the competition. But Whitney gets her photo, and poor, sweet, ghetto Marv is sent packing. Dudes, that's just not right.
Okay, I just re-read this recap, and I don't understand where the models "Take It To the Streets."
Also? For awesome black Barbie sex a la Allison (who was the first to get booted), go here! Glam! I haz it! I am immediately going to iTunes to download this song. Thanks, Heather!
Next episode: The girls have to pose with pain, and the entire house gangs up to reem out Dom. YAY!
Posted at 09:16 AM | Comments (2)March 20, 2008
A Couple of Fine Christians
An IM conversation from a boring Lenten Friday:
PW: Check this out -- Bible Fight
Marty: Crap. Panera's firewall is blocking it.
Marty: I'll e-mail it to myself.
PW: it's a Bible Game. it's hilarious!
Marty: I'll try it out when I get out from under the draconian clutches of the Panera firewall.
PW: Panera is The Man
Marty: And the Man is repressing me.
Marty: And feeding me yummy baked goods.
PW: damn him!
Marty: I know!
Marty: Speaking of which, I wonder what I should get for lunch?
PW: mini pizza!
Marty: They don't make those any more.
PW: oh, that was quick
Marty: What?
PW: the pizza. here and gone.
PW: guess it didn't sell well
Marty: Or it was a summer thing
Marty: BUt I did like them
Marty: I went with a roast beef sandwich.
Marty: I'm a good catholic, aren't I?
PW: no, you're a Lutheran
PW: deal with it
PW: it's a much better religion -- we get to eat what we want
Marty: As long as its in a cassarole
PW: well, of course
PW: in FACT, we don't even make you give something up for Lent. that's considered an archaic idea.
Marty: I have nothing to give up for lent.
Marty: Except masturbation.
PW: that's not healthy
Marty: And you can take that from me when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.
PW: Nice
PW: AND? In 1993, I believe, Lutherans officially came out in favor of masturbation
Marty: Wow.
PW: I KNOW!
PW: How much do we rock?!
PW: roast beef AND slapping the salami!
Marty: you've really upped your Lutheran skills
PW: I know just enough to be dangerous
Marty: Lutheranism: A Deli of delights.
PW: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
PW: we are the smogesborg of religions!
Marty: LOL
PW: and when we confess? it's SILENTLY in church, not out loud to some child-diddling douchebag
Marty: That was always creepy.
PW: because our leaders are allowed to be a.) sexually active, and b.) women!
Marty: I never confessed the masturbation part.
PW: I'm sure it was assumed
PW: so do I have you sold? are you a Lutheran?
Marty: I feel like I'm being sold a car.
PW: yeah -- a Mercedes!
PW: What will it take for me to put you in this pew?
PW: wanna take it for a test drive? have some roast beef and then go spank it in the Panera bathroom?
Marty: I almost choked on my sandwich here!
Marty: LMAO
Marty: Thank god I wasn't drinking. I would have ruined my laptop.
PW: and the lining of your sinuses
PW: oh, and the Lutheran church welcomes everyone, even gays and addicts, so you're all set!
Marty: Thats great, now I can...HEY!!!
Marty: Who you callin' gay?
PW: I'm just saying
PW: did I touch a nerve?
PW: you're not getting much work done
Marty: Yeah, well..
Marty: Its friday.
Marty: Fuck it.
PW: exactly.
PW: Okay, I totally call dibs on putting this in my blog.
Marty: ok but change my name
Marty: I don't want your mom knowing that I masturbate
PW: I'm pretty sure she assumes, dude.
PW: She's pretty astute.
So the cat's out of the bag now. Wenchie blasphemes, and Marty spanks it. The world is shocked.
Posted at 07:37 AM | Comments (2)March 19, 2008
Wenchie Unplugged
I complain about Husband alot on this blog. Mainly because, as his wife, it's my God-given right. But also because it's fun.
But today, I'd like to stay a bit from my usual evisceration of my beloved to list some of his good qualities. Mainly because he deserves it. But also because I don't want you thinking I'm retarded for staying bound to this weirdo.
1. He understands the importance of family. Even my family.
2. I went shopping and came home with a Coach bag, and he didn't even ask how much I spent.
3. He doesn't even bother with hints and guessing. He just asks, "What do you want me to do for Valentine's Day?" And then he does it.
4. He's cute. Which really helps because I'm shallow.
5. We have two dogs, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've had to pick up poop.
6. He thinks my butt is adorable. Regardless of size.
Unfortunately, I can't find any reasons for the bigger question -- why he stays with me.
Posted at 07:32 AM | Comments (4)March 17, 2008
Trashy-Whorey
Like most of us, Heather is many things to many people. Sister, daughter, wife, BFF, confidant, fag hag. But my personal favorite side of her is The Trashy Whore.
Now, I can't tell you where she works (she has sworn me to secrecy!), but I can tell you that it fits her trashy-whorey-ness just perfectly.
For example, this is what she brought home from work the other day:
Curious to see what they look like on? I'll bet you are! Especially you foot fetishists...
No, that's no my grandpa wearing black patent leather hooker shoes. That's Egrau and her sexy black socks. Heather was pretty damn impressed at how well Egrau rocked those things like she was merely wearing gym shoes. But Egrau is a flight attendant and has developed Feet Of Steel. I don't think she can feel a damn thing below her knees anymore.
How hott is Billi?! Seconds after this photo was taken, Billi flipped her plastic-encased feet behind her ears and exclaimed, "Yup -- they work!" And then she got up and danced like a stripper.
I really need to get a pole installed in my kitchen. I feel I should note that this all happened after Billi had consumed two wine coolers and a beer. In the space of an hour. (Ha ha, Billi -- now Mom's writing YOU out of her will, too!)
No, this is not my tranny friend -- although I could see how the man-hands and size 10 feet would lead you to believe so. It's just Heather. She's so awesome at pulling together a look, it's hard to believe she's not a drag queen!
Of course, Sue was wearing her shamrock socks. Or sham-socks, if you will. But she wouldn't show me her panties, so I can't confirm whether or not they were green. Or... present.
And because my Irish friends will pop a blood vessel if I don't acknowledge this National Day of Drinking in some way...
There ya go. Happy St. Pat's.
Posted at 08:02 AM | Comments (4)March 13, 2008
Black Is the Color of Evil
We re-arranged the living room. Again. But my obsession with furniture placement is not the point of this post. I'm showing you this merely as a Before photo.
Note the cleanliness. Note the matchy-match-ness. Note the unseen frayed carpet edge that Stella chewed -- unseen because it is hidden under a strategicly placed end table!
Note... the After photo.
And to add insult to injury, there were three -- count 'em, THREE -- bones within two feet of the coffee table when I found this.
Free to a good home -- one 18 mo. female black lab. Spayed, all shots. Answers to the name WHATTHEFUCKDIDYOUDO???
Posted at 09:32 PM | Comments (0)March 12, 2008
Wenchie & the Sandman
I do many things while I sleep.
I hog the covers. I freeze my ass off because Husband hogged the covers. I accidentally kick Husband. I fart.
I've been known to snore, but ONLY when I have a cold. When I take Nyquil, I have vivid sex dreams about everyone in the world but Bruce Campbell.
When I was little, I used to sleepwalk. Once, I came downstairs without my pajama top. On a night when my parents were entertaining some of my Dad's co-workers. Yeah, I knew how to make an entrace even then.
I sometimes talk in my sleep, but not like Husband. I'll mutter a bit, but Husband will sit up and say stuff like, "I have to take the bridge plans over to Naperville in the morning. Do you think Bob will be done with the files by then?"
One time, I did a total 180 in bed so that I woke up with my head at the foot of the bed under the sheets. Scared the sheet outta me!
But last night was a first.
I don't remember what woke me, but Husband looked at me and asked, "Do you realize you were singing?"
"Um... no."
"Were you asleep?!"
"Um... yeah."
"You were singing in your sleep!"
Actually, in my defense, it was more like humming. But there was a distinguishable melody. With my luck, I'm sure it was the next number one hit, but now we'll never know.
How cool would it be to be a one hit wonder at 38?! And they'd come to my house to film an episode of "Behind the Music," and they'd have to meet my family. And they'd decide that my family is so insane that they'd make a great reality show.
...
Okay, good thing I woke up.
Posted at 09:43 AM | Comments (2)March 10, 2008
"Top Model Makeovers"
I don't think that's the real name of the lastest episode of "America's Next Top Model," but I couldn't find the real name. Anyone? Don't they usually start with "The Girl Who..." or aren't they doing that this season?
Previously, fourteen girls go to NYC, do a runway show in Times Square, meet Paulia Porizkova and do a shoot as homeless people. Oh, Tyra's so sensitive! Italia went home, not Stacey, as I had previously said. And I don't even remember there being an Italia, so it's just as well.
Right out of the gate, Dom talks about how awesome she is and confesses to being a diva. Hate her.
Someone plays ding-dong-ditch on the girls, leaving them ugly, white purses, with Apple Bottoms swag inside. God, that never happens to me! Probably because I have more of a melon bottom. Sweet, round and ripe -- yeah, bay-bee!
Eighteen-year-old Allison wants to kill all the other girls. Well, I'm sure the feeling is mutual, sweetheart. Now shutthefuckup.
Fatima makes some comment about Allison's ass being bigger than hers, which is AWESOME, and Allison responds, well... like a dramatic 18-yr. old, saying, "That's a nice thing to say to someone with anorexia," and storming out of the room.
And oddly, my heart does not go out to Allison for her affliction. Weird.
The girls get a 5:00 a.m. call... to Wal-Mart. Oh, my God, I'd be so pissed if someone got me outta bed before 4:00 a.m. to go to Wal-Mart. Brent and Molly are there from Cover Girl. Turns out, it's a 5:00 a.m. Cover Girl challenge and casting. The winner of ANTM gets a big-ass Wal-Mart Cover Girl display. I would hang my head in shame.
The girls have 5 minutes to create a fresh, natural look with CG slop. Lauren and Fatima forget to use color; Whitney looks awesome, Allison is wearing too much (hee!); but it's Claire who wins! And as much as I hate Baby-Leavers, I find myself silently rooting for her. I'm so conflicted!
Oh, then Claire goes and really tests my budding love for her by telling the other girls that she and Dom want to win more than the other girls because they're doing it for their babies. Vomit.
Oh, sweet Jesus! Allison brought BARBIES with her! Is my hatred for her misplaced after all? One is black and one is white, and holy racist, she pads the black Barbie's pants with Kleenex to make her butt bigger, and then she makes the black Barbie say, "I wanna take it in back because I'm black!"
Holy shit! That is one ignorant bitch! It is so on between Allison and Fatima!
But not right now because they get Tyra Mail. Something something "curl up and dye." MAKEOVERS! My favorite!
Damn, Tyra's dress is boobylicious. Too bad Husband isn't here to see it. Steven Knoll will be doing the girls' hair, and I can't believe I've actually heard of him. Tyra tortures the girls by telling them that they're not going to know what's happening to their heads until it's done. Hee!
Anya goes platinum blonde -- eyebrows included -- and I just don't think that's a good look on anyone. (Plus, she has a troll-face in this photo.)
Whitney goes blonde and is a total kitten. (Although this photo doesn't really do her justice.)
Aimee is now a redhead with bangs and looks hot. I'm coveting her hair.
Marvita looks less like Chris Rock with her "horse mane" extensions.
Lauren gets a strawberry blonde weave and looks much less like a retard -- pretty, even. Now if only they'd remove her vocal chords...
Katarzyna gets really dark hair. Not much of a change. They probably don't want to invest too much time and money in her because they know she's too Maxim to win.
Claire looks better than I ever thought a woman could in a platinum blonde buzz cut. Seriously. (Sorry, Anya!) I know she's a Baby-Leaver, but I am kind of loving her.
Fatima looses the Bozo hair and looks like a bonafide, cell-phone-throwing supermodel, including the angst and crying during the procedure. But she still can't have sex.
Allison got some highlights or something. But she's still a total bitch.
Dom's hair really looks like shit. They really screwed her. She looks like a Lutheran Church Basement Lady/Soccer Mom/Poor Drag Queen.
Stacey's to-die-for cheekbones are now The Cheekbones That Ate New York, with her buzz cut. But she's still a dingbat.
Amis gets a blonde weave, but she's still a total horseface, and I have no idea what she's doing on this show.
Tyra Mail! Something about "The Body." Isn't that Giselle Somebody's nickname? Nope, turns out it's Elle McPherson. Oh, she's so adorable. And she's pimping her new line of Elle McPherson Intimates! Fun!
The girls pose in Elle's skivvies on a boat with the NY skyline as their backdrop.
Okay, I am officially loving Claire and Marvita. I can't help it!
They put poor Whitney the fat girl in a corset and bubble skirt, which is horrible. Don't cover her up! Put her in some boy cut shorts and let her work it!
Lauren is horribly awkward, to the shock and awe of exactly no one.
Allison blah-blahs about how she has so much more experience than the other girls, and then proceeds to underwhelm Jay with her posing. Love it.
Dom is terrible, and Jay calls her "catalogue" half a dozen times.
Elle tells the girls they are all awesome and thanks them for helping promote her "bras and knickers." Only when she says it, it sounds like "knickahs." Oh, she's just the cutest thing!
Judging!
Marv looks fierce, people. And I know I sound retarded saying "fierce," but she really does. The judges love her photo, and they say she looks like a panther.
Claire shows up to Panel in over-the-knee socks and a pleated skirt, cementing my undying devotion. Baby be damned! She's got the cocked eyebrow going on in her photo. *swoon*
(Seriously, Heather, I can't believe you don't watch this show.)
Fatima looks like Iman, according to the judges. Whatev.
Kat looks like a "Russian mail order bride." Hee!
Dom looks old.
The judges tell Allison that she looks soft and pretty, and after a pause, Nigel brings it to everyone's attention that "Thank you" might have been an appropriate response. That Nigel -- such a stickler. But Allison doesn't get the hint even when delivered with a trebuchet. She just winks at him. Idiot. One of them even says, "The lights are on, but no one's home," right to her face.
Deliberations!
The photographer confesses that he thought Dom was one of the model's mom. Ouch!
Nigel says that Anya's accent sounds like a Jamaican on sleep medication.
Allison is just hands-down conceited.
Tyra comes forward and has photos for: Lauren, Marvita, Aimee, Claire, Stacey, Fatima, Anya, Whitney, Kat and Amis, leaving Dom and Allison in the bottom two. HA!
At this point, I'm thinking Dom is going home because Allison is clearly the prettier girl. But Allison forgot Top Model Rule #7, which is -- Don't offend Nigel.
Allison goes home! YAY! And she's clearly unsettled because she thought she was so much better than the other girls, what with all her "experience" and all. I guess selling handjobs next to the dumpster behind Chili's isn't the kind of experience Tyra is looking for. Too bad!
Oh, and something random -- when Tyra gives Dom her photo, she says something about Dom staying and getting the hair color Tyra wanted her to have. Hmmm...
Next episode: Fatima and Amis get on Miss J's last nerve. Dear God, please, let there be hair-pulling!
Posted at 08:00 AM | Comments (3)March 07, 2008
Impending Placenta-Fest of Doom
After months of dread, the object of my dismay finally arrived in the mail yesterday. A baby shower invitation. And even worse? I'm not already busy that day.
Dear Christ, but I hate baby showers.
I mean, my sisters' showers weren't bad because a.) I had something to gain personally from them, i.e. a niece or nephew to whom I could teach bad habits, and b.) I had a hand in picking the menus.
What is with baby shower food? Here are the five main ingredients of baby shower food:
1. Chicken salad.
2. Ham salad.
3. Egg salad.
4. Cucumbers.
5. Cream cheese.
It's like they're feeding us bland, pureed food as if we were the babies!
And if keeping down your lunch wasn't hard enough, what with it all being in pre-chewed form -- someone always has to start in with the birth stories. The longer and bloodier, the better. And as much as I don't want to hear about your episiotomy, I'm sure the first-time-mother-to-be is even more horrified. Find other ways to bond, ladies! I'm trying to choke down a sandwich over here!
And as long as I'm bitching, they'd better not make me participate in any baby-themed games.
One time, they had taken the labels off a dozen jars of baby food, and we had to guess what they were strictly going by color. It was a real eye-opener. That's the day I learned that Spam is not technically considered a baby food.
But nothing was more crass than The Diaper Game. That's when the hostess melts different candy bars in diapers, and you have to guess which candy bars they are. No, I'm totally serious -- I've actually played this game. With other adults. Sober.
Well, at least the father-to-be says that the restaurant the shower is at has good margaritas. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's his sole motivation for attending. That, and all the placenta talk, of course.
Posted at 12:01 PM | Comments (5)March 04, 2008
Elastic
Since discovering that I can text any other Verizon user unlimitedly for free, I've been bugging the hell out of poor Sue, who kindly indulges my infatuation with this new toy. She even deigns to amuse me by occasionally instigating the texting.
On Valentine's Day, I received this message, quite out of the blue:
the elastic in my valentine underwear is shot. It's been around my knees all day.
WHAT?!?!
Now, I took this to mean one of two things:
1. That she had spent the traditional day of romance getting boned in some unseemly situation that prevented her from completely removing her panties, in which case -- good for her!
2. That she had the runs.
And while I was certainly rooting for option one, option two was hilarious, too. Because The Boy Child and I have roughly the same sense of humor.
When I saw her a few days later, I asked her about it, and she confessed that it was neither.
Imagine my disappointment.
The text message was quite literal. Her Valentine underwear was apparently so old that the elastic had simply ceased to perform its fuction, and her skivvies were around her knees for no other reason.
Bummer.
Well, I guess I know what I'm getting her for her birthday. Although that will mean rummaging through the bin of Extra Small panties at Victoria's Secret. The skinny bitch.
Wait a minute. If she's so slender, how did the elastic get so terribly stretched out? Perhaps... from Valentine's Days past?
I'm just determined to make this dirty somehow!
Posted at 10:23 AM | Comments (2)March 03, 2008
"The Girls Who Are Going Home So Don't Get Attached To Them"
Of course, this isn't the real name of the first episode of this season's "America's Next Top Model," but it'll do.
Wednesday is the third episode, so I figured I'd better get around to doing the first two, right? Geez, I only have one page of notes -- it's not like it's hard.
Thirty-five broke-down, trashy morons are on a school bus. Marvita is back this season, having left her "crazy past" behind her. We'll see, Marvita. We'll see.
Jay and Miss J make their grand entrance and send the girls to a locker room to put on their uniforms. And yes, I'm takin' 'bout Naughty Catholic School Girl uniforms. Thank you, Tyra! Then they get their "photo I.D.s" taken.
Well, all the usual suspects are here. There's Miss Ivy League who feels that her education will give her an "edge up" in the competition. Too bad she's not smart enough to know that it doesn't take brains to be a model.
And we have our geeky "punk artist," who sounds way too much like first season winner Adrienne for my comfort. God, blow your nose or something!
Allison feels she is the "silent predator," and we can only hope she stays silent. Token person from a different country -- Fatima from Somalia. And Kim rounds out the pack as a dumb blonde.
In the classroom, Miss J is there for Runway 101, where the girls have to walk... *gasp* with BACKPACKS! Oh, the horror!
Next we meet Claire, who is a mom and wife. And we all know how I feel about these broads who leave their babies for three months, trying to break into a career that will take them away from home for the majority of the year, and then claim they are "doing it for my child," so let's move on.
Is Anya from Russia? What's up with that funky accent? Or is it a speech impediment?
The girls are taken to the football field, where this is a bonfire surrounded by ex-ANTM-contestant cheerleaders. There's Furonda, the twins, Jael and Joanie.
The Js announce that they will all be going to New York City, but first! They have to pick a Homecoming Queen. And the girls are stupid enough to believe that it'll be one of them. Keep dreaming, ladies! There's only room for one Queen on this show, and it ain't one of you.
It's TYRA!!! The girls go ape-shit when Tyra appears in a yellow prom dress and tiara. Her acceptance speech includes, "I'm sorry I slept with all your boyfriends." It's actually pretty funny.
Then it's time for the one-on-one interviews. Mohammad Ali's niece is there, of whom Miss J says, "I see a model, but then she opens her mouth, and I want to die." Amy is "positively coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs."
Meanwhile, backstage, Fatima endears herself to all by calling all the black girls "ghetto." I believe we've found this season's Black Girl Who Everyone Hates. Shaya (I think that's her name) goes off on her and ends with, "You're dead in my book."
Stacy got married when she as 17, and not because she was preggers. She gives Jay a lap dance.
And then we find out why Fatima is such a bitch -- as a girl, she was circumcised in a horrible "traditional ritual." Well. Okay then. I guess I'd be pretty bitter and hostile, too.
Shaya, to whom Fatima was dead only moments ago, is the one to start the pro-Fatima group hug. It's actually really sweet. And then Marvita kills the moment by asking Fatima if she feels like less of a woman. The rest of the pack goes nuts on Marvita.
We discover that Jena's dream is to own a tricked-out Impala. Dream big, Jena. And in a moment that can only be described at T.M.I., we find out that Claire is pumping her breast milk. Dear God, she left a nursing baby behind.
The girls get their "report cards" and find out who passed and who failed. The passers get their "senior class photo" taken. They have to do their own hair and make-up, and in a tube top, will get a fur stole to work with.
From those photos, they pick the 13 finalists: Allison the Silent Predator, Fatima, Katrazanya or some such silly name, Kimberly the Dumb Blonde with the smooshed in pug-face, Stacy of lap dance fame, Amy and Aimee, Claire the Baby Abandoner, Whitney the token plus-size model, Marvita, Lauren the Punk Artist, Tatalia and Anya.
But Tyra is easily confused and says they can't have two Amys, so Aimee changes her name to Amis. "Because it's in the Bible." Really? I thought it was Amos.
And then in an unprecedented move, Tyra also says that 13 is an unlucky number, so they're taking one more girl -- Dominique the Drag Queen.
Although I did watch the second episode of "America's Next Top Model" last Wednesday, I was far too feverish to take any notes, so I'll just tell you what I remember. Which isn't much.
The girls go to their new house in NYC, and the sleeping arrangements leave much to be desired. One room is full of bunk beds, like an army barracks. The other one is just... one big bed. Huh.
Fatima rears her ugly head again, and Mother Marvita takes it upon herself to have a heart-to-heart with her. Fatima tries to chalk her shitty behavior up to I've-been-hurt-blah-blah-blah, and Marvita shares her own story of being hurt and getting over it. The two bond, and I am suddenly a big fan of Marvita.
At judging, Dumb Blonde Kimberly pulls an unbelievable move. She says that she doesn't believe in high fashion and $2,000 dresses, so she'd just rather go home. The judges are clearly pissed, and I don't blame them.
What did she think? She would only be modeling for Wal-Mart and Old Navy? What a selfish little bitch! All those other girls who wanted to compete and wear $2,000 dresses and didn't get a chance because Miss Wal-Mart got chosen, and then she bails the first week!
I think all the girls who didn't make it to the final 13 should take up a class action suit against that retard.
Um, who went home? They sent someone else home, too... who was it? Oh, I think it was Stacy the lap dancer. Pretty, but no one's home.
Next episode: Wenchie will actually be coherent enough to write a real recap!
Posted at 09:35 AM | Comments (2)