March 30, 2009
"The Girl Who Cuts Off Her Nose To Spite Her Ugly Face"
I arrive fashionably late to “America’s Next Top Model” at 7:09 p.m. because I’ve forgotten what day it is. Tyra will come over later this evening to deliver my 40 lashes with Aminat’s old weave.
Professional circus freak Benny Ninja is teaching the girls how to pose to different music genres. London and Sandra must post to heavy metal, where Sandra fails miserably because she was expecting Elton John’s catchy “The Bitch Is Back.”
Teyona and Fo (Freckles) can’t translate country music into editorial fashion posing, and who can? Kortnie and Celia are given house music to work with, and Celia wins the “pose-off” because Kortnie is fooling around.
Celia interviews, “Do you have to be funny? All the time? Really?” And I don’t know why she’s bitching about it because Kortnie basically handed her the win. Aminat and Tahlia (Burnie) pose to jazz, which is apt because jazz is for posers. And losers. And asshats. Tahlia’s self-confidence from last week has quickly fizzled, and it shows.
Alison confides to Celia that she is “super-shy,” and this is like the lamb confiding to the wolf that she is “super-tasty with mint jelly.” Alison is unsure that she has chose the right career for her personality. Celia drinks Alison’s tears because she believes they will bring her immortality.
Tyra Mail! “Practice your posin’ if you wanna be chosen.”
At a place called simply “The Mansion” are Benny Ninja and two people called "The Blonds." I am bowled over by the cleverness of these names. So rich in levels and fraught with meaning! One of The Blonds is a drag queen. The girls will be posing on stage to music and judged by Blond drag queen’s peers. And you know how judgey those bitches can be!
The girls are dressed in blonde wigs and tight, whorey, sequined dresses. Alison is dressed in a blanket of her own fear. Benny Ninja is dressed as Sgt. Gay Peter McPanigan. The audience is ready to boo and/or cheer. But mostly boo.
Alison, Teyona and Kortnie all get booed and pretty much own up to it. Sandra gets booed and blames her shoes. Celia gets cheers. Natalie earns cheers by using the four stairs at the front of the runway, but Celia still wins the challenge.
Meanwhile, Tahlia confides to Alison that she wants to go home. Alison tells Celia that there is an easier model to separate from the herd and kill than herself.
Tyra Mail! “Models aren’t the only ones who migrate to New York.” The girls conclude that they will be posing with birds. Hasn’t ANTM done that already? As statues in a park or something?
Okay, why does everyone confide in Celia? Does she come off to the rest of the models as having a personality 100% different than she appears to the viewers? That was an awkward sentence, and so is the Tahlia-Celia conversation. Tahlia whines to a disgusted Celia who is all, “Then leave, already!” Migrate back to your state of origin, Tahlia! And Celia can slither back under her rock.
The girls go to Ellis Island for this week’s shoot. Between 1892 and 1924, twelve million immigrants came through Ellis Island, including my father’s parents. The girls will be shot with an olde tyme camera, which means they have to be dynamic while staying absolutely still. Benny and some randomly ethnic children will be in the pictures, too, as the models’ immigrant families.
Here is a photo of my Grandma, Marie, boarding the ship that will take her from Norway to The New World. Because it's cool, and I'm lucky to have it. And people say I look like her.
Sandra surprises Jay with a performance even more stiff and boring than usual. He says it’s her “biggest disappointment to date,” which is really saying something! London channels Kate Winslet in “Titanic,” and Jay loves it because she’s totally in character.
Kortnie takes way too long to get her shit together between poses. “Tahlia, this is very good!” Jay tells Burnie, in a very surprised and condescending tone. Alison loves working with the kids and loves the whole shoot, but it remains to be seen whether that comes out in her photos.
Tyra Mail! Judging! (Sheesh, what does she think I’ve been doing this whole time?!)
Sandra admits to sucking hairy donkey sack but still thinks that it’s Tahlia who will be going home. Celia says, “If she doesn’t go home, we should all fire back.” She wants to stage a coupe, but I don’t know what she’s worried out. Tyra’s very good at weeding out the weaklings by the Final Three. Also? IT’S HER SHOW.
I will add that I find Alison’s participation in this whole conversation very hypocritical, as she was questioning her own career choice not three minutes ago.
Day-um! Tyra looks all hot-for-teacher as we get to see the girls’ photos.
Teyona is “captivating” because she has “a story in her eyes.”
London looks short and is looking off-camera while everyone else is looking at the camera.
Sandra serves up yet another profile shot, which the judges are tired of seeing. She looks “disconnected,” and Tyra reports that Jay said she looked like “a deer in headlights” during the whole shoot.
Alison looks “adorable” and “editorial” at the same time, but they have a problem with her looking too young and not like the matriarchal figure she was supposed to be.
The judges love Aminat’s photo and call her a “natural poser.”
Fo doesn’t relate to the kids in the photo, and hers is the judges’ least favorite in the bunch.
Kiera Knightly would puke (if she had anything in her stomach) upon learning that they’re comparing Natalie to her. Natalie’s “stunning fashion pose” still doesn’t make up for the ugly inside, if you ask me.
Kortnie reaps all kinds of hate from the judges – she’s “sour;” it’s “not a fashion shot;” she had “dead eyes;” she “needs to push harder.”
Tahlia’s photo is – shock and awe – “the best one in the whole group.” And no one is more shocked than the judges because she looks like ass on toast in person.
Celia has “no story in her eyes.” The judges also don’t like her reclining pose, and you can see her seething because, in Celiaville, it’s Tahlia who is supposed to be getting reamed!
Deliberations!
London has no legs but a magical face! Sandra is “as boring as homemade soup,” and I take offense at that. I make some kickass soup! Alison is still “adorable.” Kortnie has “no model qualities,” but Nigel likes her. Aminat is “great.” Fo is "fake" (but I love this shot of her!).
Well, yes, faux is fake. Hee!
Celia does the same pose over and over. Tahlia is the best, and they can’t believe it! Natalie is “dull” and “needs some personality,” but not the one she currently has. Teyona has personality, but the judges are divided about her photo.
Tahlia gets her photo first, and we can see Celia choking down her sour grapes. Kortnie and Sandra are in the Bottom Two because they are both pretty, yet they have no spark. Sandra stays, of course, because she still may dish out some awesome bitch-slappy drama.
And when the photos are distributed and the decisions all made, Celia steps forward with something to tell Tyra. Oh, this won’t end well. She blah-blah-blahs about how Tahlia said she doesn’t want to be there, so it’s “unfair” that she gets to stay. And Tyra throws it right back in her face, “I think it’s unfair that you’re up here talking to me about her.” HA! Remember you place, Celia!
Kortnie is sad to go, and she leaves us with this – Celia shouldn’t have done that because Tahlia didn’t get a chance to defend herself to Tyra. And I’m sure Tahlia’s defense would have consisted of, “Sure, I wanted to leave, but that was before I had a good photo!” Which isn’t much of a defense, but still. Kortnie is right, is Celia is right to be crying because she really fucked up.
Next episode: Tahlia talks to Celia, and all the girls get into a huge brawl.
Posted at 02:12 PM | Comments (1)March 27, 2009
Corpse Coutour
Regular reader Hope read my family's morbid birthday conversation (or as Heather calls it -- pillow talk) and left the following comment:
A friend and I told her sister we're burying her in a t-shirt that says WHORE across the front. She's a very private, chaste person who doesn't swear or do anything devious. She's actually petrified we'll go ahead and do it. Which we will.
Thereby instantly endearing herself to me with her desire to torment chaste, private people in death. It's like sunshine on my heart.
So I emailed her: OMG! I wanna be buried in a t-shirt that says "I'm totally blogging this!"
She emailed back: Maybe we can start a business - T-Shirts to Die For. You can bury your loved one (or not-so-loved one) in a t-shirt with an obnoxious saying on it. Like 'WHORE', 'I'm totally blogging this', 'When it rains, it whores'.
T-shirts to Die For. LOVE IT. Heather will, of course, be our model for our website, posing in an open coffin. And from there, it just turned into dueling banjos of inappropriateness.
Me:
"I'm not dead -- I'm just pretending so you people will leave me alone."
"Don't fight over my stuff."
"I killed myself to get away from you people."
"Don't give my dog to Uncle Bob."
Hope:
"I'm wearing clean underwear"
"I told you I was dying, why didn't you help me?"
"I left you nothing in the will"
Me:
"The mortician touched me inappropriately."
"I see you didn't splurge on my coffin."
"See you in hell!"
"I can't believe you wore THAT to my funeral."
Hope:
"You were never my favorite"
"I've been cheating on you."
"Now who's fat?"
Me:
"Forgot to tell you -- it's contagious."
"Guess where I hid all my money..."
"Stay away from canned clams -- trust me."
Hope:
"The butler did it"
"Life sucks, then you die"
"Party on Wayne, party on Garth"
Me:
"It's not you, it's me."
"Pull my finger."
Hope:
"I died and all I got was this stupid t-shirt'"
Me:
"<--- I'm with stupid."
I believe, in time, these t-shirts with be de rigour for the rigamortis set. Custom shirts available!
Posted at 08:56 AM | Comments (5)March 25, 2009
Happy Birthday, Daisy May!
I can't believe you're seven and still afraid of the camera.
Goofy dog.
I can tell that she's starting to feel her age because now, when I say "Treat!" or "Out!" instead of running through the kitchen, sliding on her toenails, bouncing off the fridge and careening into the kitchen chairs, she gingerly tiptoes around the corner until she gets to the rug in the mudroom.
Maybe if I actually clipped her toenails, that might help.
P.S. There will be no talk of death at Daisy's birthday celebration, which will consist of kibble, some peanut butter yogurt treats, and maybe a butt-scratch. Mainly because I already know that she's being cremated, and I get all her stuff.
Posted at 08:17 AM | Comments (1)March 23, 2009
"The Girl Who Makes the Bitchy Girls Suck It"
The girls nibble on grapes -- unpeeled! the horror! -- and discuss last week's judging and elimination. Nothing earth-shattering is revealed. The bitchy girls still think they're all that and a shamrock shake; the insecure girls still thank the Goddess of Fierce that they managed to fool the judges for one more week of "America's Next Top Model."
Tyra Mail! "Mind your Ps and Qs... and J." Runway class!
Natalie interviews that she feels like she has an edge because she has modeling experience. She gives the peasants some tips on their runway walks, while Aminat eyerolls and places an order for Natalie, "She needs to eat some humble pie."
The girls are driven to an amazing, Munsters-esque mansion. London very much enjoys "the scenery inside the house." Because... there are sweeping mountain vistas and vast, green meadows? Doesn't there need to be a landscape or a stage in order for there to be scenery? Well, I don't want to dwelve so far into it that I'm being analystic, right, Jade?
Miss J enters with big hair, a pink hanky, and an effected accent never before heard anywhere on the face of the earth. She dresses the girls in khaki capris, sweater sets and pearls. It's darling. Miss J also calls in Bianca and Chantal from Cycle Nine.
Bianca I remember, but Chantal? Oh, she's blonde. I tend not to remember the blondes. Except for that blind albino chick. What was her name again? Ah, who cares. Bianca and Chantal are there to show the girls how to walk. They were probably in NYC and not doing anything, so Tyra threw them a bone. See? Mama Tyra cares!
The girls walk. Miss J mocks.
Back at the house, the girls play Truth-or-Dare. But not the sexy Truth-or-Dare than results in pillow fights and lesbian experimenting. No, this is the stupid Truth-or-Dare where Burnie gets her feelings hurt because Jessica confesses to thinking that Burnie had the worst photo. See? This is what happens when they aren't allowed to have t.v. Next, they're going to resort to making macaroni necklaces. This is lame.
Tyra Mail! Something about a runway and excess baggage. Teyona goes to get her weave redone. I can't tell the difference when it's done, but Tyra can. Must be a black thing.
The girls will walk in a runway show for Jill Stuart. Considering the low-budget, folding-chair look of the place, I'm guessing that Jill is not a big deal. Her dresses are cute enough, 'though, and the girls must walk in them while carrying -- gasp! -- shopping bags!
You know, if this were "RuPaul's Drag Race," the girls would have to model dresses made by a blind albino while lip-syncing to Beyonce and trying to embody the essence of maccaws in the wild. On stilts. I'm just sayin'.
Ann Shoket, the editor of "Seventeen," is there as a seat-filler, probably on her lunch break. Show-off Natalie does a spin on the runway, eliciting a great WTF? face from Miss J.
Allison is afraid that she'll fall off the runway. I'm afraid that she won't. Nothing good ever happens at these fashion shows. Where's my complimentary champagne? Miss J notices that Freckles took his advice from the runway lesson.
Jill rates the girls. She hated the spin. Hee! See, Natalie? You're not so cool! There are two winners, since it was a tough choice when everyone sucked so equally -- Natalie and Celia. WHAT?! But-- but Jill hated the spin! How is it fair that Natalie gets some pieces from Jill's collection?! I don't know what Celia gets. Tying for first doesn't seem to do her any good. Because she's ugly.
Burnie is on the phone with her sister and tells her that she wants to go home. Well, I can't blame her. All the girls in the house are either ugly or bitchy... or both. Who could survive in that topsy-turvy world? And she's totally going home. We all know it. That's how it works in Tyra's world. Her sister's pep talk is all for naught.
Tyra Mail! Something about... cake? I really should listen better. Apparently, the girls are taking a bus tour of NYC and posing in pairs at different landmarks.
Freckles and Aminat are high-power CEOs on Wall Street. Jay eats them up.
Kortnie and Nijah are artists in Soho. I've never seen hippies wear so much makeup.
Celia and Sandra are bad nannies. I think we're getting a glimpse of their porno future here.
On the upper east side, Alison and London are snobby socialites. "Frenemies," London says because she's totally in character, while Alison needs too much direction.
Burnie, Natalie and Teyona are sight-seeing in Times Square. Y'all, I've been to Times Square, and it's not nearly as exciting as they make it seem. Jay notes that Burnie is clearly out-shining the other two. Awwwwwww, her sister's encouragement helped! Go, homely girl!
Tyra Mail! Judging! Jill Stuart is the guest judge. And then I have to put the t.v. on mute for a minute because Husband calls, but because they are talking about Nijah and Kortnie's photo, I assume they're using words like "boring," "lame" and "dead eyes."
Freckles and Aminat both look "outrageously great." Miss J feels the same about Celia and Sandra's photo, but the rest of the panel thinks that Celia looks "stiff." And ugly.
There's a split in Alison and London's photo as well. London looks great, but Alison looks like "a hungover Olsen twin." Is there any other kind?
Nijah is "a pretty yawn." Freckles and Aminat are both "100% fantastic!" They are also, apparently, cat burglars.
In the photo of the trio, the judges fawn over Burnie while dissing the other two -- Teyona because she's preparing for a dental exam, and Natalie because she is the fakest fake who ever faked. HA! Take that, bitches!
Tyra starts handing out the photos, and Sandra is called first. WHAT?! What about the perfection that is Aminat and Freckles! Jeebus, Tyra makes absolutely no fucking sense sometimes!
Alison and Nijah are left in the Bottom Two. Alison totally deserves to be there, if only for scaring us by dressing as one of the dead twin girls from "The Shining."
Alison stays, and I'm sure it's her freakish looks that are keeping her in the race. Tyra so enjoys the company of others from her home planet. Nijah's exit interview is upbeat, which is always nice, albeit dull. I think her problem is just that, like so many of us, she's prettier in person than she is in her photos.
Next episode: something someone does elicits cat-calls, and Celia wants to gang-up and send someone home. Because, you know, it's her show.
Posted at 07:36 AM | Comments (1)March 20, 2009
You Can't Choose Your Family
Spikette's birthday was last week, so Mom had us over for lasagna and angel food cake to celebrate. I won't tell you how old she is because she will ride over here in her Model T and smack me with her handbag.
So here's our celebratory table conversation:
PW: When Mom and Dad die, I want that china hutch. It'd be perfect for displaying my expensive Barbies that I don't wanna have to dust.
Husband: Do you dust them now?
PW: No.
Mom: Speaking of dying, I was at the worst funeral in the world yesterday. TWO HOURS!
Billi: Holy crap! Why was it so long?
Mom: All five of his kids came up and gave a speech, and they were all crying, and you could hardly understand them. And there was so much music!
PW: Good Lord. That's just awkward.
Mom: For my funeral, I don't want all that talking.
Billi: Don't worry, Mom. For you -- twenty minutes, bada-bing, we're done.
Mom: One song, have the pastor say something nice..
PW: ...and then a casserole luncheon. What do you want to wear to be buried in?
Brad: Tube top.
Mom: What?!
Billi: HA!
PW: I'm not burying my mother in a tube top to have her boobs in her armpits for all of eternity! Mom, because I love you, I'll make sure you're in a push-up bra.
Mom: Thank you.
PW: And I swear to God, any of you assholes bury me in a skirt or dress? I will haunt you for all of eternity.
Husband: Oh, she'll do it, too. You better believe her.
Dad: I don't care what kind of funeral I have, as long as there's no blubbering.
PW: Not a problem, Dad.
Billi: I want lots of blubbering. You guys better be destitute without me.
PW: Is this chocolate-mocha frosting?
Mom: No, just regular chocolate.
PW: Huh. I taste coffee.
Billi: Spikette, open your presents. The Spare is getting crabby.
Well, happy birthday, Spikette. Maybe next year at your party, we can all talk about our colons!
Posted at 05:00 PM | Comments (3)March 18, 2009
"The Girl Who Hates Her Hair"
For this season of “America’s Next Top Model,” it appears that the Best Photo of the Week On a Huge Digital Monitor has been replaced by a small poster, much like local bands staple to telephone poles. Poor Allison. I guess even Tyra has to stretch a dollar these days.
Aminat interviews that she would have been glad to see Sandra go after eliminations. “I woulda been like -– Bye, bitch!” What it lacks in eloquence it makes up for in universal sentiment. “The better person went home.”
Tyra Mail! “Blah blah streets blah blah sidewalks, blah blah turning heads.”
The girls get picked up in a pink and purple plaid stretch limo! Even Barbie doesn’t have a vehicle this cool! (Speaking of which, The Spare has recently become enamored of cars and trucks, and his favorite toy to push around? My old, orange, vintage, hippie Barbie van! I love that kid. He’d better not break it.)
In another one of Tyra’s horribly-staged segues, The Js get a video message from her on Jay’s iPhone to fix the “broke-down models.” Jay responds with, “Copy that, T.” How much do you think he wanted to kill himself right then?
Jessica needs and edge, so they’re giving her red hair. They cut off Sandra’s rooster ‘do and give her platinum blonde fuzz, like a Q-tip. It’s atrocious. Allison gets long, blonde extensions, and she loves that she looks “like a mermaid.” You guys, I think I’m falling for her.
Nijah looks "too nice" and gets a longer weave. Because, you know, long hair is evil. Or something. Freckles is too cute and needs a short, boyish cut to make her edgey. She cries and hates it, but I think she looks adorable, like a little pixie. Celia’s hair covers her awesome cheekbones (and, thankfully, the rest of her ugly, ugly face), so they chop it. She feels “liberated.” While I feel “nauseated.”
Jay is amazed that all the girls with long locks have “hair as dry as Ghandi’s sandals.” Seriously, people, how hard it is to deep condition once a week and get a trim a few times a year? You’d never catch me with Ghandi-sandal hair. In fact, just last week, a woman at work told me that my hair “always looks immaculate.” Virgin Mary hair!
Aminat’s ‘fro weave gets removed so that Miss J can use it as a boa in his Vegas act. She gets long “Naomi Campbell waves,” which come with a complimentary cell phone! Kortney is another one who gets red hair. Lucky bastard.
London’s medium length, brunette hair is replaced with a bleach blonde surfer cut that’s great for her bone structure but wrongwrongwrong for her dark eyebrows.
The Js team up to tell Natalie that she's getting her hair cut short. John, the big-wig who owns the salon, comes over to personally hack her hair off himself. She starts freaking and crying and going fetal saying, "Wait! Wait! Wait!" John throws his hands up in huffy exasperation and says, "I can't do this!" I'm thinking, "Bitch is going down!" I don't ever remember her from one scene to the next, anyway.
But after the commercial break, The Js inform Natalie that she is, indeed, NOT getting her hair cut off. It was a test that she failed shamefully, but she's too relieved to be ashamed.
Teyona is getting a weave that she will wear long, wavy and slicked back. Ick. Slick-backed hair only adds to her wind-in-the-face appearance, and not in a good way. Burnie gets a blond weave, which she loves. Barkeep, a round of weaves for the house!
But while the other girls revel in their long, fabulous hair, Freckles sit in a corner and cries that she feels like "the odd man out." Freckles, honey, there are about six girls in this competition that I can't tell one from the other. Treasure your individuality!
Tyra Mail! "Blah blah eye to eye, blah blah make-up."
Still moping, Freckles interviews that she has lived on food stamps, but her haircut is even worse than that. Worse than food stamps. I wonder, are you allowed to buy drama with food stamps? This, by the way, is my new favorite insult. "Heather, your hair looks worse than government cheese."
Sutan is here! But, as he's clearly stepping in for one of The Js today, he is all business and no snarky fun. Poop. A rep from Cover Girl joins him. Or as she would say, "Cahveh Gahrl." The girls will divide into four teams to win a photoshoot for the WalMart Cover Girl display. They have 20 minutes to find a victim on the street and teach her all about Cover Girl's latest crap, Eyelights Mascara, which is just mascara with glitter in it. Yeah, cuz I wanna be fishing glitter outta my eyes.
Aminat is not happy about being on Sandra's team, but she heroically vows to suck it up. They are Team One, and they do pretty darn well, except for Sandra, who is, for once, too quiet.
Team Two is too "frantic" and all over the place. Team Three wants to be make-up artists instead of make-up salesmen. Well, who wouldn't?! And Team Four just... sucks. Team One wins.
That evening, the girls go out for African food. Aminat, being of age, has a drink, whereupon Sandra starts lecturing her about not drinking. Mind you, we are not treated to any shots of models puking in the potted plants, so I think it's safe to assume that all the over-21s drank responsibly.
Aminat tells her, "Keep it cute, or put it on mute." Hee! I like her.
Tyra Mail! Husband is talking to me, so I don't hear it. He should really know better. The girls think they will be doing a contruction-themed photo shoot.
Not even close. Nigel Barker is shooting the rock 'n' roll-themed shoot, but the girls will be directing themselves. Wow, it's pretty early in the cycle for that! Tyra must really hate these girls! And to really "highlight" their inexperience (pun intended!), the girls will hold a big bulb in each hand and have to light their own shoot. Oh, this should be a good.
Nigel tells Aminat that, although she is the focus of her photo, Sandra is stealing the limelight. She interviews that she "felt like crap," while Sandra interviews that she doesn't even have to try, she just gets to "stand back and smirk."
Kortney blows. Teyona is genius. Freckles just can't get over her "butch" hair and says she looks like "plain Jane's brother." Dude, she's just BEGGING to go home.
Tyra Mail! Judging!
I have no idea what happens in this next segment because Aminat is putting on a bra, like, backwards-Flashdance style, and I'm completely distracted.
Oh God. Nole Marin is back as a guest judge. Looks like Tyra is really scraping the bottom of the barrell. But wait -- it gets worse! Miss J's gimmick this cycle is that his bow tie will get bigger as each girl gets eliminated. He's just so pathetically desparate to upstage the rest of the judges.
We get to see the girls' photos.
Freckles has a great photo, but she cried on set.
Kortnie is just bad. She wasn't "in the moment."
In a shout-out to Heather, Nijah looks like "a beautiful corpse."
London is very dramatic and impressed Nigel.
Allison is "fantasic," "quirky" and looks like an "alien."
"That's terrible!" she laughs nervously. And Tyra is all, "Nuh-uh! People used to tell me that all the time. And I was like -- Great, I'm an alien! Gimme my money!"
Sandra "radiates dullness." HA!
Celia is fabulous.
Miss J calls Jessica "mommy." Ew.
Burnie is boring.
Natalie is phenominal.
Teyona "made it her shoot," but Tyra hates the way her weave turned out and wants it changed.
Aminat is doing the "all-the-black-girls-in-the-hood pose." Yeah, I catch myself doing that all the time.
Deliberations!
Freckles needs to know that, "without the short haircut, she's no model." Sandra has "no personality," which isn't entirely accurate. Teyona blew Nigel away, and she is called first to come up for her photo.
Freckles and Jessica (a.k.a. Mommy) end up in the Bottom Two. Freckles because she's being a baby about her hair. Jessica because she's merely pretty and nothing more. And probably because she's wearing formal shorts, for God's sake. Freckles gets her photo, and Ugly Jessie is sent home! Yay! Bye, bitch!
Next episode: The girls go to charm school to learn how to walk.
Posted at 09:25 AM | Comments (0)March 12, 2009
Wenchie: Servant of God
Okay, because I work at a church organization, there's a chapel on the first floor of the building, where we have a church service every Wednesday morning. I find this awesome because I can get paid to attend church, while missing work, my boss heartily approves, AND I can sleep in on Sunday mornings. Accepting Jeebus Xt as my personal savior never felt so good!
What? A gal's gotta have a personal savior, right? Might as well be Jeebus. It's not like Depeche Mode has done anything good lately.
A couple months ago, because someone was apparently desparate, I was asked to be a "lector." Which is just a fancy word for "reader." Okay, I can lect, that's easy. I read a lesson from the Old Testament, correctly pronounced a couple weird names, and distributed the wine during communion.
That's right, the words "the blood of Christ, shed for you" have actually passed through these lips. Without irony. How's that for keeping you awake at night?
Don't worry, I haven't lost my trademark sacralicious edge. I just couldn't think of a viable reason to say No. Besides, channelling the holy spirit can't hurt me in my quest to become permanantly employed there.
Actually, the first time I was holding the chalice (i.e. huge cup of wine), I blanked on what was going on. I had an out-of-body experience, looking down on myself thinking, "I really hope these people don't die, receiving the sacrament from such a blatant evil-doer. Can they tell I'm an imposter? I wore my most holy sweater!"
And the dude just stood there, holding his bread, like "Well...?" So I blurted, "Oh! ThebloodofChristshedforyou! Sorry!"
Two weeks ago, I got another email from the administrative assitant in the worship department. Yes, we have an entire department devoted to worship. You're wondering how I've managed to avoid a lightning strike, aren't you?
This email asked me, at short notice, to be Assisting Minister. To do a job with the word "minister" right in the title. Again, lacking a good reason to say No, I agreed. She sent me the script for the service (I'm sure it's not called a script, but what the hell do I know?), and I had to read a prayer that was a page and a half long! Immediately, my mouth dried up, and butterflies with razor-sharp wings set up housekeeping in my large intestine.
But it got worse. The Prayer of the Day is where you pray for every possible person and thing that the congregation and ministers can think of, 95 percent of which is prescribed by the church year and such. However, there's a place in the prayers for the Assisting Minister to pray for a few things that are current and important and whatever.
Which means that I had to come up with timely and deserving people to pray for. Which also means that I had to ask someone what to pray about.
Now, I know a lot about Chicago politics because they are a constant source of entertainment. And I know a bit about U.S. politics because my dream of living in a cave has yet to be realized. But I sheepishly here admit my ignorance of world events. Unless they talk about it on WLS AM, or my Oslo cousins email me something, I am sadly unaware. And until O*P*I quits making up new nail polish names every damn season, there just won't be enough room in my brain to remember the current state of every country.
As in all times I trouble, I ran to Chris (which is just Christ without the T on the end), and he directed me to BBC.com. After much deliberation, I decided on:
We pray for the people of Sri Lanka affected by the civil war there. We pray for the people of Mexico struggling with the increased violence between the drug cartels and the federal government.
I'm not sure these people are any more deserving of prayer than anyone else around the world, I just wanted to sound current and edgey, like I knew what the hell I was talking about. And it worked! Or at least, I assume it did, as no one mocked me after the service.
In fact, several people even came up to me and said, "You should be a pastor!"
If Jeebus hadn't risen from the grave, he'd be rolling in it right now.
Posted at 03:10 PM | Comments (3)March 09, 2009
"The Girl Who Everyone Hated Before They Even Arrived In Vegas"
Continued from Friday, the second half of the "America's Next Top Model" premiere...
I go upstairs to see Older Step Daughter to the door and miss some confrontation about sleeping arrangements. This is what I get for being polite! As usual, Tyra has cleverly provided one less bed than is necessary. Two Cups and Kenya start getting into it, but London jumps in to do what Jeebus would do -- sleep on the floor.
Rock Me, Sexy London!
You know, I'm hoping that having a preachy Born-Again is going to make for some awesome, self-righteous arguments, but she may turn out to be just a wet blanket. Watch out, London -- that kind of drama-quelling behavior will get you sent home!
Tyra Mail! "Something something bridge the gap between good and bad." The bridge is the 59th Street, where The Js point to Guastavino's because the girls will be walking in some fashion show featuring a collection that represents "Bad Girl vs. Good Girl."
Honestly, I can't tell the Good Girl clothes from the Bad Girl clothes. Epilepsy Girl is terrified of the strobe lights on the runway because they could trigger a seizure. And of all the ridiculous complaints we've suffered through on this show, I think that one is the most valid.
Doll Eyes walks EXACTLY like Sally in "A Nightmare Before Christmas." It's uncanny. Kenya only goes about a third of the way down the runway. In her defense, they probably don't have a lot of runways in Kenya. However, there IS a t.v. monitor backstage by which the girls can watch what's going on. She couldn't figure it out?
Burnie is very upset because, while the other girls are wearing sundresses and bathing suits, she's wearing a suit-suit. All covered up. And I just want to say -- DUH. Modeling is the industry where they find impossibly beautiful women and then airbrush the shit out of them. I think it's awesome that she's not a self-loathing hermit, but I'm wondering if she really thought through this career choice.
Back at the house, all the girls are in their beds, with the lights on, talking before turning in. All the girls except Kenya, that is. She'd rather bitch at them and piss on their excitement than join in the comraderie. In her defense, it's probably 3am in Kenya. Or something.
Tyra Mail! "Eenie meenie miney moe, make it good from head to toe." The girls go to Central Park with Jay, who is dressed like a gay stormtrooper, for a childhood-games-themed photo shoot. I'm thinking it shouldn't be too hard for these drop-outs to embrace their inner immaturity.
There are some "bad girl" extras for the shoot, and one of them is preggers. Hee! And the extras do a much better job than any of the wanna-bes. I know that I'm Rubenesque and not very pretty, but after watching eleven seasons of this tripe, I feel like I could model the shit outta anything. Haven't any of the contestants actually watched the show?
Tyra Mail! Judging! Burnie is sure she's going home. I think so, too. Tyra has made her point, and Burnie has served her purpose. Although, in all fairness, most of the girls sucked as least as bad as Burnie. Maybe they'll do a surprise multiple elimination?
You be the judge:
Kenya did not do as well as she thought at hide 'n' seek.
Two Cups actually did well at hula-hoop.
Freckles is adorable but not a model.
Aminat's strong face is good, but wrong for the shoot.
London is cute at tug-o-war.
Jessica... who's Jessica?
Wind Tunnel has "wind in the face."
Epilepsy, like many of us, struggled with dodgeball.
Prom Queen had the best shot.
Cheesecake looks like she's in "Good Housekeeping."
Doll Eyes is adorable, but no one could double-dutch.
Burnie's pose looks like Peter Pan.
Natalie sucks at leap-frog.
Deliberations!
Aminat is brilliant on the runway. London is wide in the hips. Epilepsy doesn't stand out. Cheesecake is charming times three. Burnie is a role model but not a model model.
Doll Eyes is shocked to be called first, making her eyes go even wider. Eek. Everyone else is called but Kenya and Epilepsy.
Epilepsy has great girl-next-door looks but is kinda lost in front of the camera. Kenya sucked ass at both runway and photos... and yet, she stays. Because Tyra knows that she will ensure some awesome drama in the house, where as Epilepsy may go the entire time without a seizure, and that's not good television.
Next episode: MAKEOVERS! Wow, this seems early in the season for the makeover episode, doesn't it? Maybe Tyra realized what ugly girls she picked and decided to fasttrack them into some new hair-dos to save face.
Posted at 09:24 AM | Comments (0)March 07, 2009
"The Girls Whose Names I'm Not Bothering To Learn"
I'm just making up my own names for the episodes now.
"America's Next Top Model" premiere! Woooooooooooooooooooo!
I was unspeakably rude to Older Step Daughter, who came to dinner Wednesday evening. After dinner, I just brought my plate to the sink and said, "Going downstairs to watch ANTM! 'Bye!" Hopefully, the Beef Stroganoff sans mushrooms made up for it.
The girls are in Vegas, and it's just more of what we've come to love about ANTM -- tears, fears, beers and queers. Well, I'm making a big assumption on the last two, that they will make an appearance eventually.
This is a two-hour premiere, so I'll try not to linger.
Miss J is by a pool. The theme is Goddesses or something, so the girls are all in togas and gold sandals. Enter the gladiators, whom one of the dipshits calls "big, staunchy dudes." Dictionary.com has called bullshit on the word "staunchy," although "staunch" is "firm, strong, substantial," so perhaps she's only mildly retarded.
Tyra, a.k.a. The Goddess of Fierce, shows up, and the girls scream and cry like it's the frickin' Beatles. Christamighty, ladies, she's a staunchy ex-supermodel. Relax.
Not five minutes into the show, I'm already wishing for Angelea of the green, witchy nails to die screaming. Street preacher London wants to spread His name... by spreading her -- oh, it's just too easy.
A burn survivor was 8 months old when a pot of hot coffee signed her up for fourteen surgeries. She wants to represent for all the burnies out there. The conspiracy theorist got a gun for her most recent birthday! Yay! Oh, she's gonna be truckloads of entertainment!
Aminat is 6'8", in heels and 'fro. She's awesome, and Miss J is almost going straight for her. Panic Attack chick has a panic attack, and the other girls are like, "What the fuck are you doing here if stress makes you hysterical?!" And rightfully so.
Suddenly, God simultaneously answers the prayers of everyone in the midwest by blessing Dunkin' Donuts with the Bacon, Egg & Cheese WAFFLE Sammich. Can't wait to be dunkin' one in my morning beer!
Back to auditions, some girl brings her pen collection. Sadly, no Hello Kitty pen. Also? What the fuck! The pens don't go over well, and the girl bravely cops to trying to use a gimmick to catch Tyra's eye, and failing miserably. In that one moment, she has shown more self-awareness than every, single previous contestant ever, combined.
Ironically, Prom Queen girl seems the nicest and most grounded. "BLAXICAN!" Oh my God! It's my new favorite word! She has freckles and is just the cutest thing I've ever seen.
Witchy Nails had a baby girl who died. Oh, you KNOW Tyra is going to eat that up because she is not above exploiting people's misery to the advantage of "Mama Tyra." Hence Burnie's presence.
McKey's "My Life As a Cover Girl" commercial is mostly... other winners. Hee! Oh, and did I mention that Eva Pigford is featured in the most current Avon catalogue! I'm glad to see she's getting work.
Token Plus-Size cops to liking cheesecake. The media fails to report this ground-breaking confession.
GAH! Holy shit! What is that?! Damn, I can't readily think of the small monkey-thing that she so closely resembles, but she's scaring the crap out of me because she also resembles those creepy, sad-eyed dolls that spinsters with cats collect. Oh, and she's into nosebleeds because they are beautiful. Perfect.
Tyra and The Js pick 21 of the original 34 to represent different goddesses in a photo shoot. Most of the aforementioned make it, as well as "Two Cups o' Crazy" (says Miss J), Wind Tunnel girl, and the most evil bitch of the season, Sandra, whom they kicked out of Kenya ten years ago. And some other completely forgetables.
Jay is gushing about Aminat, saying, "The only time I've seen skin that perfect is--"
"When you finish putting on your make-up?" finishes Tyra.
Jay gives her a dirty look. Cat fight!
The judges review the photos -- which I will spare you because 90% of these girls won't be around in a month -- and select the Final Thirteen to go live on the upper east side of New York City. Right next door to the Jeffersons.
They are: 6'8" Aminat, Natalie, Freckles a.k.a. Fo, Creepy Doll Eyes, Burnie, 2 Cups o Crazy, Prom Queen, London, Wind Tunnel, Cheesecake, Girl With Epilepsy (who REALLY REALLY wants us to know that her disease doesn't define who she is), Jessica and Kenya-Bitch.
Witchy Nails is going back to Buffalo, and it kinda reminds me of that scene in "A League of Their Own" where Madonna is crying that she doesn't want to go back to working at the dance hall where guys are "sweatin' gin all ovah me." Poor thing.
Posted at 08:32 AM | Comments (0)March 04, 2009
Wenchie Loves Barbie Loves Stila
During a normal work day, I am constantly on IM with Heather, via the blessed salvation of Meebo, a lovely contraption that allows for instant messaging on any number of applications, without the bother of downloading them on your computer for the IT people to discover and report to HR.
And during a normal work day, Heather IMs me links to stuff. Stuff that ranges from mildly inappropriate to completely-porno-and-I-can't-believe-this-page-made-it-past-our-firewall.
Today was a nice surprise! Nothing I had to hide from passers-by!
She's all casual like, "Oh, btw, you probably already know about this." (Yes, just like that because she is an HTML goddess, whereas I would've just copied and pasted the link in all its lengthy messiness.)
SHRIIIIIIEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!!!
She knows I don't know anything cool until she tell me about it! How could she just throw that out there without even warning me or at least making sure I'm sitting down?!
I MUST HAVE ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!
(For the link-impared, I am referring to the Barbie Loves Stila collection of make-up palettes by Stila brand make-up. There are four different sets, each with two eyeshadows, a blush, a lip gloss and a mascara, corresponding to a Barbie of a different era: #1 Ponytail Doll, 1971 Malibu Doll, 1980 Foxy Doll and 2000 Jewel Doll.)
Frighteningly, the palette that best suits my coloring is the 2000 Jewel Barbie. The blue eyeshadows featured in #1 Ponytail and Malibu are something I avoid at all costs, adhering to the golden rule of fashion -- If you wore it the first time around, you're too old to wear it the second time around.
Right now, I'm having a Mexican stand-off with Sephora. Oops! Sorry -- Spanish-Speaking-American stand-off with Sephora. I have four things I need to order from their website, but I'm not ordering them until they send me a Beauty Insider special offer. You know, where if you spend X amount of dollars, you get Whatever Special Awesome Piece Of Product They Are Promoting That Month.
And what happens is, I always order stuff because I'm totally out, and then THE DAY AFTER I place the order, they email me their special offer du jour, and it's like a free mascara or something fan-fucking-tastic like that.
Well, NOT THIS TIME, Sephora! I am waiting for the Beauty Insider email, and I am getting my free shit if it means using this dried up old mascara for the next three weeks!
*wipes spittle off monitor*
Oh, that's not good. And I quote, "2000 Jewel Doll delivers a hip, sparkly look featuring shimmery shadows and glossy pink lips—the very look that exemplified 'new millennium pretty'."
Hmm. Upon closer inspection, I think 1980 Foxy Doll may actually be the better fit, as I enjoy earthy shades. Begging the question -- am I secretly black and foxy? It certainly would explain a lot...
Posted at 07:50 AM | Comments (1)March 02, 2009
The Chore List
I am officially confirming what you have all known for years -- there's something wrong with me. I'm physically unable to function in what's commonly known as The Real World. (I.e. the universal reality of life, not the t.v. show.)
How do people do this? What does everyone do when they go home?
After working an eight-hour day, do you guys, like, make a balanced, tasty meal, clean your house, tend to your pets and/or children, pay the bills, run a couple errands, exercise, have a meaningful conversation with your spouse/life partner, and get to bed before sunrise? Because, if you do, I worship at your feet and beg that you show me the secret of your time-bending physics.
On a typical day, I run one errand on the way home from work, make a sandwich or mac 'n' cheese, feed and take out the dogs, glare resentfully at the dog hair that needs to be vacuumed up, spend 15 minutes straightening up the house, and then plant my ass in front of the t.v., struggling to stay awake past 7:30 p.m.
I SUCK AT THIS! I'm so laughably inadequate at living the typical American life, I should probably be deported. I need to become a shepherd in the Laplands or something.
Husband has offered, quite sincerely, to help with the chores, but much of the time, I can't abide his version of "helping."
Loading the Diswasher
If Husband loads the dishwasher, he will get exactly seven things in it before running out of room. Despite being an architect, he just can't figure out spactial relations between the dishes and the racks that will result in the optimal amount of dishes getting washed. Therefore, he is not allowed to load the dishwasher.
Laundry
A beautiful, charcoal grey, V-neck, cashmere sweater from Banana Republic. Shrunk. 'Nuff said.
Making the Bed
Husband hogs the covers. By morning, he has enough covers so that they are touching the ground on his side of the bed. I invariably have to rely on supplemental blankets, gotten in the middle of the night, to make sure I have enough coverage to ward off hypothermia. And when he makes the bed, does he realign the covers? No. He leaves fourteen feet hanging off of his side, and two inches on my side. If I didn't remake the bed, and that was the way we began the night, I'd end up naked and shivering on the floor by 1:00 a.m.
So let's recap. I don't want to do all the housework by myself, yet I don't like the way Husband does it. By my calculations, that means that I absolutely 100% deserve every ounce of stress and fatigue I incur.
Alrightythen.
Posted at 06:36 AM | Comments (2)