Friday, July 31, 2009
But as my fun weekend rears its' head, I admit to being slightly scared. Two days with promised partying environments? Scheduled activities revolving around the consumption of alcohol? Actual Beer Olympics. Am I ready for this? I'm no slosh, never have I been the wasted girl saying inappropriate things acting all Tara Reid. I'm no "Wild On" host. But I participate, and wow am I competitive. Take alcohol and pair it with a competition and things could get scary. And it's not that I'm worried about the actual events to be attended- I'm worried about the aftermath. I'm worried I won't be able to go for a run on Sunday. I'm worried 2 days of partying could make my mind mush when it comes to Monday job requirements. Pathetic.
Yup, I'm definitely getting older. Or, is it wiser?
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
But then I saw the ring she gets. Neil Lane bizillion carats. Why the heck not accept the proposal? In fact, she should accept all three. Then when she breaks them all off she can take the rings, sell them, and move to the french countryside where nobody watches reality shows.
UPDATE: Love this. Read this.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I love how when celebrity couples split, like the recent relationship demise of Kim Kardashian and Reggie Bush, they blame it on schedule conflicts. As if love is an appointment on the day's to-do-list. Basically Kim's saying her mani and pedis are more important to her than lifelong love? I'm sure it was hard to build a meaningful relationship with her intense schedule of nightclub appearances and spray tan appointments. And I'm sure the choice was a devastating one to make- choosing her promising reality television career over love. And I'm supposed to believe they had a real passion for one another? That'd be like me claiming I found "the one" only to break up with him because it was too stressful to have to coordinate my fanatical fitness routine with his affinity towards car detailing. Our star-crossed love just couldn't survive my sweat and his wax! Whose schedule would fit into Kim Kardashian's in perfect harmony? Her dog's? Perhaps a paparazzi? Either these people are that selfish, that stupid, or just don't want to admit they broke up because of reasons real non-celebrity people do everyday. Like they hated each other.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
I was out of town in a safe zone. Hanging with family and friends, doing things I would never do in the radius of my social living/breathing/working space. Like karaoke in a basement bar. Totally entertaining when no one is looking. Then a woman, a townie so to speak, came to me to introduce herself. I explained we had met last winter (a weekend she had bought me no less than 5 whiskey-apple pucker shots) and she laughs. Her response? "Oh, I didn't recognize you! Usually you're all glossed up! You could pass for a local in that!"
That doesn't feel very complimentary. Apparently relishing in the unleashing of my wild hair waves isn't doing me any favors? Just when I thought I had escaped the doom of a hairdryer...but how snotty am I to feel insulted? I better watch some of MTV's "The Hills" to remind myself I'm not as snotty those dumb people.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Do you ever weigh your options based on worth?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
We actually eat cheese with this show. You have to in order to put up with the extreme amount of cheese filling up the billions of colorful pixels. Can’t beat em, join em. But why oh why do we love it so much? Men and women alike? I even love watching this show despite the fact I squirm uncomfortably at the awkward small talk and forced make-out scenes. We all like it because those smart suits over at ABC know what we want to hear. Well, women anyway. They know what men want to see.
Take last night’s episode. To get to the men, lots of Jillian the Bachelorette parading around in short shorts. Lots of making out. Even an oil massage scene on a rose covered bed with slow music softly orchestrating the intimate moment. Lots of Jillian’s legs wrapping around men. At this point the probability of the male gender even listening is slim, rather just admiring the sexy images and off in la-la land thinking how it could potentially turn into a pornographic primetime reality show. Scenes like these have led me to believe Miss Jillian has hopes of being the next character to rock The Young and the Restless. Scenes like this have men wondering why every girl doesn’t wear shorts every day.
And the women, of course, love to hear these men beg for the girl who squeals every 5 seconds (I dare you to play a drinking game taking shots each time that chick screams- you’ll be wasted). She grills them with all the important questions you must ask a man you’ve been gang dating for 2 months. Like, “Would you ever marry me?” And of course these men, as they don’t want to lose, shower her with phrases every woman on earth wants to hear. Things like, “I’ve never met someone as amazing as you.” And “The last date we had was the best night of my life.” Of course it was the best night of your life! You were in Spain in a helicopter where you landed on a mountain where you did some sort of extreme sport and then were whisked away to an amazing dinner with a scantily clad mistress and all the booze you could handle. Oh, and producers telling you you’re the greatest. I bet it was the best night of your life.
So where does it leave us, mere unreality stars stuck in the reality of life love & dating? How can we get in on a little of goodies going around on The Bachelorette? If you’re a girl, just shower men with lots of attention and bare skin. If you’re looking for a man, pretend. Pretend dating is like a rose ceremony. Guessing you’ll be a lot pickier.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
In the last few weeks I’ve witnessed or been part of the discussion of several unsavory behaviors. Many of these behaviors affecting romantic relations in a heartbreakingly staggering way (shout out to Eggers). Actions that make one squint their eyes in concentration and conclude that a person who can perform such action must be indeed crazy. Crazy.
Such an influx of rampant behaviors swirling around us, my good friend and I decided it’s time for government to step in. Yes, I propose government regulation in the birth of relationships. No, not marriage/divorce. Simply a pee test. Before you get into a serious relationship, you and your chosen must drive on over to your friendly courthouse or scientific lab and pee on a stick. The pee will be analyzed for behaviors, characteristics, strengths and flaws and then a detailed report returned to you. You then read your report, find out that you are scientifically a nag, and then compare to your prospective romantic partner. Here is where you really find out what’s going on. If his report finds that he’s a nag as well, well, it might work out. You’ll nag each other to death, but at least you can’t point fingers. If his says he’ll cheat on you no short of 50 times during your relationship, you can drop him off at the nearest brothel. Unless, of course, you’ve got the 3% gene that says you don’t care if he cheats on you, or the characteristic that says if he takes care of you financially and emotionally, you don’t care what goes on. It would really make things much simpler. And come on- it’d save lives! Look at that football player who got murdered by his crazy mistress. If you’re gonna take a mistress, you better be sure she doesn’t have the crazies.
Look for legislation in a city near you.