[insert witty anecdote here]

Thoughts on Valentine's Day

2011-02-10T10:42:00.000-08:00

This is probably going to sound pretty crazy coming from a woman that's never been spurned on the day, but I cannot stand Valentine's Day. Seriously? I think it's one of the sorriest excuses for a holiday that's ever been. You want to celebrate something? Let's make a bigger deal out of Earth Day. Lots of times Earth Day comes and goes with nothing but a whimper of 'save the planet.' Not that I'm, you know, a psycho environmental advocate, it's just one of the many other much more important holidays that goes by and doesn't get nearly as much attention as Valentine's Day. Veteran's Day. I give a far larger shit about Veteran's Day than I ever could for Valentine's Day. Even give me D-Day. I'd celebrate D-Day in a heartbeat over Valentine's Day, but maybe that's just the nerd that lurks inside.

You know what else I can't stand about Valentine's Day? The women who base their entire first quarter of the year focusing their efforts on what they want their significant other to do for Valentine's Day. What they want for Valentine's Day. What swanky restaurant they want to go to for Valentine's Day. HOW FUCKING DISAPPOINTED THEY'LL BE IF THE DAY ISN'T JUST SO.

Many women like this have great significant others. Significant others who cherish and love them and do for them the other 364 days out of the year. Significant others who probably worship these empty-headed fools, and you know what? If that otherwise 'perfect' significant other happens to drop any sort of ball on the sacred holiday known as Valentine's Day? Forget it - a year's worth of good actions have automatically been negated.

It's amazing how fast the empire can fall, guys.

In case you couldn't tell, I don't buy Valentine's Day. I think it's just another way for the corporations and the media to get a stronghold on our checkbooks, self-images, and interpretations of The Things That Really Matter. My husband and I don't celebrate Valentine's Day. Not cards, not flowers, not special dinners out that we shouldn't be spending money on anyway - we celebrate our love 365 days out of the year, and I'll be damned if someone that's not directly involved in my relationship will tell me that any one day in particular is more important than the rest. Some might be less eventful, sure, but in the grand scheme of things, do we want to be remembered - or remember ourselves - as those who just never stopped comparing the things we were lucky enough to have to the things we had the potential of having?

Not me, that's for damned sure.

Return to Sender

2011-01-27T18:37:00.001-08:00

Well hello there, strangers.

It's been almost two years since I've updated this blog and a lot - A LOT - has changed. To be quite honest, I'd rather forgotten this particular journal even existed, and you all probably did too. But alas, here I am - though I'd moved my 'official' platform over to Tumblr once I gained more credence in the blogosphere, I think I'm going to try and maintain this site to give those who actually DO know about it a bit of insight to my personal life (because if you've seen my Tumblr site, you'll know that it's all a bunch of funny pictures and fluff).

It's been awhile since I've actually sat and journaled, and after being reminded by a good friend that this blog still exists, I had the urge to post something - anything - in it.

Let's play a little catch-up, shall we?

The last time we spoke, dear readers, I had just moved from Pennsylvania to Delaware. I was blissfully settling into my surroundings in a new state, with new people, and new patterns. I acclimated myself to Delaware rather fast, and who wouldn't - beach life during the spring and summer months, tax-free shopping (including groceries!), a more laid-back, genteel breed of people, and a quiet solitude that sort of transcends throughout the area. In short? I. love. Delaware. I'll probably never leave.

After living here a few months, I was offered a part-time position at Evil Beet Gossip, a celebrity gossip site that the brilliant and illustrious Sasha Pasulka built from the ground up earlier in the decade. Sasha is a woman who, though I've never met in person, will forever remain embedded in my psyche because she was the one who gave me my start in professional - paid - writing and the subsequent opportunities. I owe her an insurmountable debt of gratitude. Throughout our first year here, the part-time position at Evil Beet turned into a full-time position, and I was handed Zelda Lily on a platter to manage. Though I had no prior experience in managing other writers, let alone the technical aspect of a business-based website, I took to it like a duck to water - I felt as if I'd never done anything else and never would do anything different. Writing has, in every facet of the phrase, become my life. Technical writing, free-form prose, structural analysis - it's not only my passion, but my livelihood. As our second year approached (and my husband's time in school drew closer to an end), I was presented with another amazing proposition by the aforementioned Sasha - I was asked to be the Managing Editor of Evil Beet, her 'baby,' for lack of a better word, as she was selling the business to an interested firm. Naturally, I was taken completely aback, and spent time waffling between both ends of the spectrum - the bright, rosy, optimistic end of 'I can totally do this,' to the bleak, black horizon of 'There's no way I can pull this off.' While I was both excited and apprehensive, there was still no doubt in my mind that I would take this project on, tackle it with both arms, hold it tightly and let it rip. One major lesson I've learned in life is not to allow things to take you for a ride, but to take those things that approach you for a ride of its own, and it hasn't failed me yet.

I've been managing Evil Beet for a few weeks now, and I'm loving every second of it - the professional development and superb networks that I've encountered have both, and equally, completely blown my mind, and I am positively staggered by the blessings that have been bestowed upon me.

My husband, daughter and I have spent almost two years in our current home, and recently gained an opportunity to move a bit (just a bit, mind you!) further inland, to, put it mildly, my dream home. The property is on an acre of private land, littered with hundred-year-old oak and maple trees - the home is a renovated farm house with four bedrooms, two baths, and a screened-in porch right out of Forrest Gump. Blessings? You have no idea. We move in less than two weeks (uncanny, right?) and I cannot begin to tell you how excited, optimistic, and gracious I feel toward the events which have occurred over the past years that ultimately brought me to where I am today. Though there have definitely been dark times, sorrowful occasions, and unfortunate happenings smattered throughout those same past years, I can look through and beyond them, all the while being grateful that they were present, endured, and overcome, because each and every moment that's been experienced has brought me precisely to where I am right. this very. moment. And guys? These moments - those over the past two years - have been the best yet.

I look forward to updating this site a bit more than I have in the past, enduring and documenting good times, inevitable circumstances of trial, and lessons learned through both.

Thanks for reading, and if you're reading this now - thanks for not forgetting me, too.

Domestic Goddess

2009-06-06T13:40:00.001-07:00

I woke up this morning and I could hear my blog calling me, whimpering in the semi-darkness, imploring me to write in it. After lying in bed for a few more minutes, I consciously decided to make an honest effort at a new post today, since it's been almost a month now, since my last post. I apologize for depriving you all of my non-sensical ranting and blissed-out proverbs.

Today was another great day. I seem to wake before the crack of dawn here and it's something that I've really gained quite an appreciation for. I get up early, have my cup(s) of coffee and morning smoke(s) on my front porch and listen to the seagulls crying out their morning songs. The baby and husband woke up about an hour or two after I did and I re-welcomed the day with their awakenings. I fed the baby her breakfast and left her with her dad so that I could take off and kick my own ass at the gym we have on site. I ran two miles today in just about eighteen minutes, which, for me, is pretty damned fantastic. Since we've moved here, just over a month, I've lost eight pounds. I'm not overweight by any far cry, but it's ridiculously nice to be a bit more toned than I was after the whole childbirth thing.

After the gym, I came home and took a long soak in the jacuzzi tub. The husband went to work and babe and I decided to go grocery shopping. I stocked up on more food and spent even more money on things I didn't need, such as candles, housewares and beauty products. I swear sometimes that I have a bit of a shopping compulsion. I could probably go into a hardware store and find something to spend money on. I have no doubts.

We left the grocery store and hit the locally-grown plant and flower stand that's just a few miles from my home. Browsed around and bought a few flower boxes for the front and back porches and some pretty seedlings. I have a huge affinity for lavender and I'd like to grow it. It's probably my most favorite smell in the entire world. I'd have to say the best thing to do with it is let it dry out a bit and allow it to soak in a tub before you get in it. Oh, heavenly.

We came home and had lunch and then I tackled the Cleaning of the Bathrooms. I never thought I'd deplore cleaning bathrooms so much until I had so many of them. It literally took two hours. I washed all of the bedclothes and throw rugs and felt uber accomplished.

To some of you out there, it might sound that I had a bit of a boring day, but to me, it was sheer happiness.

Beach Living: Total Bliss

2009-05-16T18:00:00.000-07:00

More and more the days seem to go by without a post on the old personal blog. I really should try to set aside more time to do this sort of thing. Get me back to my roots of bitching and moaning every which way I could possibly want without having to worry about any sort of repercussions from the public forum! Not that I mind, granted. Nothing better than stirring up the pot a bit here and there.

The move... Well, the move went really smoothly, actually. It was totally surprising, because the weeks leading up to the move were more and more hellish as they went by. It truly felt as if some unseen force were telling me that this wasn't what I should be doing, more problems cropping up than ever before and all signs pointed to "do not pass go". However, I rebelled, as I normally do and ended up here. In paradise.

Our home is gorgeous. I can't believe that we're living in a $350k condo a half mile from the beach. Where this luck came from, I don't even know. It was seriously like a dark cloud was hovering over our every move while we lived in Pennsylvania. We've been in Delaware for a full week and it's been nothing but bliss, good news and sweet happenstance.

The community in which we live has an amazing fitness complex, which I've been utilizing almost every day since I've been here. Well, every day since we've been unpacked, which went surprisingly well, as it were. I'm working out, getting up at the crack of dawn and simply enjoying the fact that I. am not. working. Well, at least at a full-time, forty hour plus week in an office type of job. I work my hours on Zelda Lily and couldn't be happier.

Things are finally seeming to fall into place and I can only credit it to our courage to change, to adapt and to persevere. This sense of contentment has been a long time coming and I'm going to do all that I can to not only keep a firm grip on it, but to keep my feet planted on the ground and my eyes ahead.

Feelin' Alright

2009-04-29T13:46:00.000-07:00

The past few days have gone by in a pleasant blur. And no, not because I've been drinking or drugged, haha, you're all funny.

I think I'm gradually beginning to make peace with my gigantic upheaval and it actually feels good. We've been staying with my mother-in-law, out in the country, which I thought for sure was going to be a supreme disaster. I've been pleasantly surprised. I'm enjoying my time there. I think I'm actually going to miss it a little bit when we do leave next weekend, and I'm not sure if that's to be attributed to the fact that I've been somewhere for more than two days in two weeks, or if I'm simply genuinely enjoying myself. I happen to think it's the latter.

I've been sleeping really well for the past few nights. Very heavily. I've also been getting up much earlier than normal, which seems to set a good tone for the remainder of the day. I actually have time to decompress in the morning from the previous day, so as to prepare myself for the hectic day that's sure to come. And they do. But they've been pretty tolerable lately. I'm decently content.

My daughter is going through a funny phase right now. Totally age-appropriate, but odd to me, nonetheless. She's becoming a Grandma's Girl, as she's been seeing a whole lot more of my MIL, which doesn't upset me, but I feel mildly shunted to the side. I come back from work, super-stoked to see my little dolly and she gives me a dirty look and runs to her Nan (the MIL). I honestly can say that it doesn't upset me... I can understand. I know when I was younger, and even up until I was around sixteen or so, I was the ultimate Grandma's girl. Maybe it's karma coming back to kick me in the ass. I'm sure my mother felt just as neglected as I probably am right now, and I'm sure that I'm just worrying and obsessing over nothing, but still. She's my little sweet pea and I want all of her attention all of the time, 'cause I'm an affection whore.

Regardless. Things are going smoothly. I don't really enjoy living out of a suitcase; all of my stuff is super rumpled and even though I'm getting up much earlier in the morning, I just can't seem to bring myself to break out the iron. That's beyond me right now. It's still odd that my toothbrush is hanging out in a foreign toothbrush holder and the shampoo and conditioner just isn't right, but I'm dealing. My crazy, obsessive-compulsive, perfection-crazed self can take it...

The past few days have proven it!

Home Sweet Nowhere

2009-04-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

It's been nineteen days since my last post, if my math serves me correctly. I could be wrong, but I never said I was a mathematician. I'm a writer. I'm not supposed to be able to add and I don't make bones about it.

Things have been chugging right along as scheduled; for any of you unaware, I'm in the process of a big relocation and packing and sorting and throwing out and (throwing up and) renting moving trucks with dollies and insurance and driving the big twenty-seven foot bitch almost three hundred miles from my current home. Which, incidentally, is no longer my current home, as I vacated this past weekend. I had a ten-hour packing and loading marathon this past Friday and then Saturday, had a four hour unpacking marathon coupled with a fourteen hour round-trip commute. The word "hellish" doesn't even compare to what these past few weeks have actually been.

My family and I are now in limbo. Translation: transients. We stayed with my family this past weekend and moved the remainder of our belongings to my mother-in-law's house, which is about fourteen miles from where I work, out in the great outdoors. The great outdoors meaning "ten miles from the nearest store" and "tick country", which, incidentally, my husband found one on him last night. How awful. I felt buggy all night. I awoke this morning to the sounds of way-out-in-the-country birds, and it was cool; but it was at 5:30 this morning, which is about two hours earlier than I normally get up on a given day, at the latest.

I feel odd, to say the least. I really do feel that sort of homeless sense, or even at least that subtle sense of displacement. All of my belongings are waiting for me in my new home and I'm living out of a suitcase and a train case for the next eleven days. I know I shouldn't feel as oddly as I do, being that we're with family, but I do. I feel discombobulated. I feel spinny. It's almost kind of like having a very, very mild-but-constant anxiety attack. I feel like I kind of don't belong anywhere and I just want to go home. But there is no home to go to right now; our home that was our home last week is just an empty, sad shell and my new home isn't yet a home - it's a house. And a house that's three hundred miles from where I am right now. It seems further away than it really is, in all senses of the word.

I was actually looking forward to getting to the office today, just to solidify a little bit of normalcy in this currently-uprooted state, which is weirding me out as it is.

My husband has a week and a half of finals left and then we're on the road. I'm just scared that this move is going to be an even bigger deal that I thought it to be, to begin with. And even bigger than it's turned out to be so far, which has been unpleasantly surprising.

The Ultimate FML

2009-04-01T11:25:00.001-07:00

I haven't posted much over the past few days, primarily due to the fact that I've had nothing but FML moments; one on top of another.

I'll backdate to Sunday night. I'm getting a cold. Or I have a cold. I'm not really quite sure what stage it's in right now, other than miserable sneezing and a nose that runneth over. Jane's got a little bit of the same thing. I'm always, always that one who gets that last cold right at the ass-end of cold-season. Right when the weather's breaking and the sun is shining. I can never fully enjoy the first few weeks of the Vernal Equinox because I'm usually laid out on the sofa for it.

Sunday night approaches and I'm stoked about getting to bed early. The husband's working a long weekend, Jane's relatively calm (for a seventeen month-old) and I can just tell she's going to go out like a light. I'm sipping a steaming cup of tea, awaiting bedtime. For the both of us.

Eight-thirty rolls around and she's half-asleep. I am, too, for that matter. I, happily, place her in her crib, cover her curled-up little body with her afghan and tiptoe off to my awaiting bed. Smiling, I crawl in, so content, despite the fact that I'm not feeling well and I doze off probably within minutes.

It's amazing that people talk about the "calm before the storm". Things had been going so unnaturally right for weeks and months up until this point that I was almost beginning to question where the fuck up was going to occur. Things had been so pleasantly placid, just swimming right along with all of our moving plans and the massive pay-off of some bills; I couldn't have asked for a better start.

I wake up, around 1:30 AM and practically fall out of my bed, I'm so startled.

There's music absolutely blaring - to the point that it's literally rattling the windows half out of their wooden frames.

I live in a relatively quiet, secluded neighborhood, but alas, as all good things must come to an end, we've most recently had some "questionable folk" move in next door. Need I say that this is even more of an incentive to be moving away, as if being one-half mile to the beach isn't incentive enough. It's been nothing but moderate chaos for the past few weeks, since these people moved in.

I've seen these people (with children, mind you) on their back and front porches all hours of the night and day, barbecuing, drinking, smoking; generally being irresponsible and disruptive. Not to mention, poor examples for their young children. People come and go all hours of the night, in and out of the home at fifteen minute increments. The imagination doesn't need to stretch too far to imagine what's going on in that hellhole.

I digress, as I always do.

This night, in particular, was really horrible. I made several attempts to get back to sleep, but it seemed that each time my eyes began to close and I began to drift off, the music would thud back on in the house next door, and I'd be startled awake, once again. This went on for about another hour and I decided to just get up out of bed, sneak outside and have a cigarette. I was awake, anyway. Why the hell not.

The moment I set foot on my back porch (which is relatively shielded from the neighbor's view), all I could smell was pot smoke. Like, really. With kids in the house. A gigantic drinking, binging, smoking party with children in the house. I've seen these kids; they probably range from eight months to about three years old. There are four of them. I saw them earlier that night, at the house, playing in the dirt. I was enraged. Disgusted. Appalled that these people not only had the cojones to disrupt the peace of the neighborhood at 3 AM, but to do it in front of children. There's all sorts of fighting, screaming going on; hooting, hollering and laughing.

I did what any annoying citizen would do.

I phoned in a complaint to the local police department. FML. The conclusion to this particular matter will follow.

Monday, I make the attempt to set up my utilities at my new house and find out that there are massive problems with procuring the utilities, to the error of the current owner. I try to make contact with the woman, and she's on a business trip for the next two weeks, unreachable. I'm moving in three weeks. FML. I still can't get ahold of the woman.

Tuesday rolls around. My husband and I awaken, only to find that his ridiculously over-priced windshield (for an SUV) has been busted. In our own driveway. Refer to the first occurring incident. Gee, wonder who did that. FML.

Tuesday, revisited: My paycheck, in an error by my workplace, isn't direct deposited on the day it should have been, and due to auto-drafts on my checking account, I am overdrawn by $210 dollars. FML. FML. FML.

Today. Oh, for the love of God, today. After dealing with my insurance company on the phone all morning to file a claim and set up service to have the windshield replaced (not repaired, replaced), I get a call from my husband, who tells me to get back on the phone with the insurance company.

He was rear-ended in the parking lot at school.

F my Effing L.

Not Gonna Write You A Love Song

2009-03-28T07:06:00.000-07:00

But I will tell you a love story.

No, it's not my own; however, if any of you are interested, I'll be more than willing to expound on that topic.

What I would like to talk about today are my parents. Two of the most amazing human beings I've ever had the fortune to have in my life. I believe it. I've heard others say it. Friends of theirs. Family. Friends of mine. These two people are two of the brightest areas in my life and they always have been.

My parents, we'll call them Pat and Dolly, will be married twenty-nine years in a few short weeks. Together, including dating; just about thirty-three years.

Pat and Dolly met on a blind date, oddly enough, right around 1976. It was a good year. My father had been back from Vietnam for a few years and my mother spent her time taking road trips with her friends. My father had just finished his business degree in college and was a single man, living with friends. One fateful night, my father's best friend had a blind-date with a woman who happened to be my mother's cousin. The two (my mother's cousin and her respective date) were a bit nervous regarding the whole ordeal, so they invited respective friends, being my mother and my father, on their date, so as to change the blind-date to a double blind-date. Isn't there something about a double-blind in poker? Off topic, yes, I know; I don't play poker, so I wouldn't know, but it sounds vaguely familiar.

Regardless. The four meet at a local bar in Scranton (where I originally hail from; home of The Office) and my mother's cousin and father's friend did not hit it off, not by a long shot. They actually ended up arguing and storming off. This left my mother and father to clean up the mess. Two individuals, who had never even spoken a word to one another, not even on the telephone, sat in the bar, alone and probably quite uncomfortable. At least, I'd be, had it been me.

They ended up having a great time. They drank and danced (probably to Steely Dan) and enjoyed one another's company for the remainder of the evening. Where the two others had ended up, Lord only knows. At this point, after a few hours, they only had eyes for one another. According to my father, as he dropped her off at home that evening, he asked my mother if she believed in "love at first sight". My mother proceeded to say "yes" and then threw up in the bushes.

They dated for a few years and eventually got married. Three years later, I came along. Six after that, my brother.

"Re-Recessionization", As In Where's The Bottom?

2009-03-27T12:00:00.000-07:00

Google, one of the largest search engines on the Internet (Internets - as good 'ol GW would say) is currently laying off around 200 workers, which, in the grand scheme of all of Google's employees, is probably not too much, but for a Fortune 500 company with stock prices at nearly $347.50 per share, it's a "big deal". According to MSNBC.com, there are approximately 20,200 workers; therefore, this is only affecting 1% of employees worldwide. $347.50 a share for a piece of Google is pretty pricey, especially compared to the illustrious CitiBank stock, where, at a low this year was performing around $2.50 a share (yes, that's two dollars and fifty cents) and is now at approximately $2.66 a share.

Why bother laying off only two hundred workers when it's barely going to put a dent in retained earnings, on a large scale?

At this point, with the economy in the condition that it's in, you need to ask yourself (or Google, for that matter), if the layoff is completely necessary, or if it's being done as "compensation" to show that some of these higher-earning companies are still "suffering", just as the smaller companies are.

Yes, as the automotive companies, financial industry and newspapers take their respective hits, illustrious old Google is rolling with the punches, taking their medicine and laying off (with possible recall, mind you) one percent of their employees.

The employees that were laid off, reportedly, weren't even higher-earning positions, they were smaller positions, such as trainers, outside contractors and excess marketeers. The two hundred jobs that were sacrificed could have potentially been saved had the decision-makers of this conundrum decided to consolidate these positions and lay off a few higher-earning execs instead. Doesn't sound like too much of a burden to me.

Then again, a burden in the hand is worth a slew of Google stock shares. At least from their perspective.

Once again, Corporate America is at its game of trampling upon the smaller business, the smaller worker and working-class America itself.

The point of this post?

Just my opinion: I'm no economic analyst and I'm no representative of our great financial system.

However.

If Google is laying off miniscule-paying positions to take their role in the Recession, you know the bottom's got to be near soon. They simply wouldn't pull this stunt otherwise.

Oh, To Be An Irrational Homophobe.

2009-03-27T06:34:00.000-07:00

I'm generally tolerant of pretty much everyone. I don't bias myself against certain types of people and I certainly don't prejudice against cultural groups. Assholes don't have colors, ethnicities or sexual preferences. If you're an asshole, you're an asshole; the universal quintessence of douchebag, speaking the universal language of parochialism.

I can't stand prejudice of any kind. It drives us, as people, back a few centuries in the progression of humanity. And by humanity, I mean love, tolerance, virtue and peace. Humility.

I would honestly say, above all, something I despise the most are people that are of the homophobic persuasion.

I just. don't. get it.

Despite what some biblical scholars say, I don't think homosexuality is a choice. It's a way of being, it's a state of mind and it's preference. It's none of my business or my place to judge whether you're a chick that wants to be with a chick, or if you're a dick that wants to be with a dick. To be quite frank, there's nothing wrong with it. I support gay marriage. I support the same healthcare benefits that are "entitled" to heterosexual couples. Why should a homosexual couple be treated any differently, especially by the government? Are they not oppressed enough by large percentage of society in general?

I know several people, unfortunately, that are just positively frightened at the prospect of a same-sex, gay individual habitating their airspace. Ridick, much?

Why must we be such subjectively-abundant, societal retards?

Christ on a cracker, guys. Spread the peace. Accept people for who they are, not what you think they should be in your "perfect world".

There's no such thing for now.

It's something to work toward, but it's never going to happen if people aren't willing to let their Shangri-la "ideals" and their bigotry go.

Just Like A "Dove: True Beauty" Advert... But Not.

2009-03-26T09:56:00.000-07:00

I've got a fascination with celebrities. Hence my stalking of Beet's site and subsequent appointment of Staff Writer for the new blog, which I'm stoked about. I got my log-in assigned to me and I simply cannot wait to start. Won't be long, guys, won't be long!

I digress.

I'm at work today, and terribly bored, so I decided to compile a list of "Top 10 Most Beautiful Female Celebrities", a la Sarah. Feel free to add your two cents and to add any of your own. I'm talking these are the girls that I'd probably have facial surgery to resemble. Sigh. To be young, beautiful and successful.

1. Rachel McAdams
2. Jessica Biel
3. Eva Mendes
4. Scarlett Johannsen
5. Penelope Cruz
6. Gisele Bundchen
7. Megan Fox
8. Demi Lovato
9. Katy Perry
10. Christina Ricci

According to AskMen.com, (a thoroughly wretched site unless you actually do resemble any of these woman) the Top 5 Most Beautiful Female Celebrities are:

5. Anne Hathaway (...Are you KIDDING ME? Have you not seen this picture? If you haven't, you really, really must.)
4. Keeley Hazel
3. Marisa Miller
2. Megan Fox
1. Eva Mendes

To view their full "Top 99", click here. I hope you're feeling thin today. Because if you aren't, you're not going to feel much better after viewing their list. Hell, even if you are, you probably aren't going to feel too great after browsing through.

I'm going to go and see if I can accomplish throwing everything up that I've eaten for the past six years.

Cheers!

Insecurities

2009-03-25T10:44:00.000-07:00

For all of you that are unaware, my family and I will be moving in a few short weeks to a completely different state, area, you name it. Different style of home, new surroundings and all of the crazy adjustments that go along with it.

I'm down for change; I honestly am. I'm truly looking forward to this new chapter in life.

I did, however, have a slight meltdown last night in the middle of the night regarding this move. I can honestly say, up to this point, I've never had a second thought about whether or not what we are doing is right for us. I still insist that this is a gigantic opportunity and I'm still very excited about the brand-new existence that's in store for us. Even if I were able to second-guess to the point where I was really considering not doing it; that's not an option at this point. Contracts are signed, deposits for school have been paid and jobs have been secured. There is no failure or question option here.

It's frightening, sometimes, how something can be so utterly right in every way and then in the blink of an eye, the same thing can seem so overwhelmingly impossible.

I'm going into this optimistically.

It's a great opportunity. Our new home is beautiful and a half mile from the beach. The area is safe and quiet and I'm going to have the option of having my long-awaited garden in my backyard. It's got a garage. My current home basically has a parking lot in the rear, with no possibility for a garden or for leisurely enjoyment. My husband will be attending graduate school at one of the nation's most prestigious private colleges for his particular major. I will be very close to my mother and father, who are so important to me as it is. I have secured a decent job (nowhere near as posh as what I've got now, but it'll pay the bills sufficiently) and I'm also going to be pulling in some additional income with the new blog that I've signed on with.

I guess it's just the pre-move jitters. I generally don't experience these feelings; more often than not, I'm the one who is reassuring everyone in an ever-changing environment that things are going to work out for the best. Hell, I didn't even get the pre-wedding jitters. I've. always. been. so. sure. Of everything. I'm the one who always had oodles of confidence, even if I didn't feel it way deep inside, down to the core.

Confidence is a great facade to model.

However, when you really have to maintain it for a long period of time, and lord it over those who are lacking, it becomes a little more difficult than not.

"F" Is For "Feminism", or "Freaked Out", Whichever You Prefer.

2009-03-25T08:42:00.000-07:00

Today I received my "official" confirmation of a new blog launch that's coming up in the next few weeks!

I was recently asked by Sasha of Evil Beet and Sasha Is A Monster to write for her new "women's" blog that will be launched in the coming days.

Need I say how excited I am to be coming on board with such an established blogger and how happy I am that I was asked to join! I'm a bit nervous. Oh, a bit. It's obviously going to be a much larger platform than what I'm used to, and I sincerely hope that I do as well as Sasha is giving me credit for at this point.

I hope we gather a large following as she's already drawn on her other two sites.

I've got a lot of hopes for this new venture and look forward to beginning!

I'm going to go into the bathroom now and vomit my apprehension out.

Enjoy lunch!

Getting Personal

2009-03-23T19:03:00.000-07:00

Today, I read a lot of true-life stories on a favorite blog of mine, Sasha Is A Monster. Sasha is also the managing editor for Evil Beet Gossip, which is a fantastic site in its own right. I read and read and read until I felt that my poor, breaking heart could bear no more heartache for some of these writers.

It's amazing the stories that some people have. The trials that they've experienced that have either made them or have broken them. The things that make these people tick. The things that pushed them to the brink of emotional or mental breakdown, only to be pulled back in by the reins of life's funny things. Funny, funny things.

What is it, really, that keeps us from driving ourselves crazy at night as we lie in bed and pore over whatever it is that happened to have consumed that particular day? Is it the good that keeps us going? Or is it the challenge of overcoming the bad that keeps us on? Is it fear of failure or fear of success that keeps us on an even keel?

These are questions that I mindlessly (or over-mindfully) ponder day in and day out. These, I think, are the true secrets to living. Not whether or not there's a God (that's simple faith on the individual's part), or if we've fulfilled our "destinies" (because, really, who's to say what is whose destiny? Maybe there are several things that are to be our destiny?).

I think about my own, personal highest times in life; times spent with family and friends, surrounded by love and happiness and the absolute scent of opportunity drifting along the winds. Those days of driving down the road, carelessly with the music blaring from the speakers and living that sheer joy that is what life is supposed to epitomize. Supposed to.

I also think about my lowest points in life, where I had locked myself in the bathroom to take forty-five minute showers, in the dark, twice a day, (sometimes three times) because I felt comfort in my wet, dark, secluded "closet". I think about lying awake, waiting for an ex to come home to wonder what kind of mood he was going to be in that night. What we were going to fight about. If I was going to get hurt. Again. Nights of upset and distaste so liquid in my mouth that I could barely choke down water without the bile biting at the back of my throat and threatening to burn another hole into my weary stomach lining.

Life is such an amazing thing when you think about it. Both great and terrible, kind of like the Wizard of Oz, if you've ever seen that movie. (And if you haven't, you're absolutely banished from my planet. Get off. The island.) Amazing, are these opportunities that we seize by the horns and equally amazing the way we sometimes so frugally allow these same mind-blowing opportunities to pass us by. I use the word 'amazing' here in a sense of both horrific and wondrous, because really, isn't life both horrific and wondrous, all at the same time?

Religion and philosophy aside; what is the purpose of these trials? To see how much the human spirit can endure before breaking?

I've been to the point where bend equals break equals breakdown and it's not easy putting those pieces back together again. Honestly, how much can one person endure? And is it fair? Do some inherently receive the short end of the stick consistently? Why? Are there any answers to these questions?

"We die only once, and for such a long time." --Moliere

And honestly, any joking aside. Think about this next point, not for what it appears to be, but for what it really is:

What if the hokey pokey is what it's really all about?

Turn-Offs and Other Shat

2009-03-20T13:30:00.000-07:00

A few co-workers and I were talking this afternoon about bowel movements.

Grossed out? Still here? Let me explain.

I, being my clumsy self, decided to make myself a cup of mid-afternoon coffee here in the office, and in the process of pouring it, I spilled half of my steaming cup on my lovely pink linen pants that I broke out of the "Spring" closet just today. Not only did it kind of hurt to the point where my eyes actually watered from the burning sting, but it stained these pants in the most bizarre way. I have brown spots all over the front (and crotch) of my pants. I almost look like I decided to lie down in it.

I proceeded to come back to the common area with my half-cup of coffee and splatter-art pants. Of course, everyone pointed and laughed, as they usually do when I walk into a room, but that's beside the point. Another co-worker of mine asked oh-so-cleverly if I had peed my pants. Honestly, I sometimes feel that I work with a six year-old. Did I pee my pants... Christ on a cracker. Flippantly, I answered "Better to pee yourself than to be peed on", simply because I couldn't think of anything wittier at the time.

This is where the topic of bowel movement comes into play.

A woman I work with (we'll call her Devendra to protect the innocent) proceeds to tell us a story that was told to her by her sister by a co-worker of a former friend at a retail chain store in my area. Evidently, this woman and her husband are into, what I would call, for lack of a better term, shatting on one another.

Really, how disgusting is that? I mean, I get it; there's all sorts of weird people out there with weird fetishes and what I'm into is probably weird to someone else and tame to another. But really. Shatting on one another? Where is the appeal there? If someone so much as passed gas during sex, I'd have to bail. Let alone shatting? Is there a proper term for that kind of fetish, anyway? I'd be curious to find out the proper name for this act.

How does one even go about proposing that to a partner? I don't even think it could be something verbally suggested. I think it'd just have to happen. No, really. I guess you could just kind of skirt around it.

"Hey, honey... I had a BIG DINNER tonight... What do you say we go on into the
bedroom?"

Some people claim they're "too full" to have sex.

This, however, seems to be quite the opposite.

They can't have sex unless they're too full.

Procreation of the (M)Asses

2009-03-20T11:29:00.000-07:00

My mother came to my house this morning. Early. See, she watches Jane while I work my full-time days and my husband attends school during the day, and it works out so very well.

My mother is a fantastic woman and a phenomenal caretaker of her only granddaughter. I couldn't have hoped for a better sitter, while I sit here at work and fritter away the time doing things like this. We're slowly working toward Sarah being a stay-at-home mama; I honestly can't wait. Jane is sixteen months old and not getting any younger, and she is my joy; to spend entire days with her would honestly be complete bliss. We're creating a future for her right now, a foundation so positive and secure and I look very much forward to the day that I can spend my days and nights with her.

I digress.

My mother shows up this morning, while Jane was still nestled in her crib and while her daddy slept away the early morning hours. I'm in the process of showering, doing my normal morning routine and chatting with mom while I put my makeup on. We're talking about this and that and she asks me if I had seen the news this morning.

I'm normally not so much of a morning person that I'm coherently able to make the news a priority in my morning routine, but who knows, right? It could happen. One day. Maybe when I'm the stay-at-home mom that I know I'd be just so great at.

She proceeds to tell me that there was a young man arrested in the area over the past few days for slapping and squeezing the head of a sixteen week-old child.

What the fuck.

My jaw dropped. My stomach instantly clenched and I felt like I had to throw up. I probably could have cried if I weren't so mad.

How could someone be so heartless? And mental? Honestly, what kind of monster would do such a thing to a child? Let alone their own child! I don't get it. Not a bit, not even to try to play the Devil's Advocate and defend it. Not touching that one.

I did a brief stint working for Children's Services in my area while I was seeking a better opportunity and I have to say, that place was, by far, the most depressing job I've ever held. In my entire working career. The poor children that come through the door, the families torn apart by abuse; the parents with their drug problems that were obviously way more important than raising their children (which is why they ended up in the place that they were).

I would leave work at times, crying for these poor, lost souls that would probably not end up in a good situation (and not entirely too far down the road) which, in turn, leads to more fucked-up individuals creating even worse situations for their next generation. I don't begrudge the system; it's as good as the government is going to allow it to be, at this point, anyway, and I think that being 'in the system' is by far better than being raised in these bleakly horrible environments.

My bottom line is... Accidents or not, mistakes or anything else of the like; if you can't raise a child, give it up. If you don't feel mentally competent, or even emotionally available, consider another option. Like adoption. I've seen far too many children subjected to the horrors of abuse and the toll that it takes on them for the rest of their lives. The loneliness of neglect is just as detrimental to these poor kiddos.

I love my daughter more than the world could ever understand and I couldn't imagine ever putting her in a situation that would harm her or compromise her idea of safety and what it is to be fostered, content and nurtured.

I can definitely stick by the statement that parenting is not for everyone and it's not an easy job, by a far cry.

But in these all-too-common circumstances, take a step back. Open your minds and really think. Put the child (or the potential child) ahead of your selfish needs and desires and really ponder what it is to be a parent.

It's not all stroller pushing, clothes shopping and naps.

The Hair, It Is A-Changin'

2009-03-19T13:50:00.000-07:00

I've got this manic urge sometimes that requires me to do odd things to my appearance. I've got this insurmountable urge to do this and to do this tonight.

I was once told by someone that to shave one's head (especially in the event of a woman doing so) is synonymous of a new beginning or a cleansing of one's self.

I don't know about all of that; could be true, but who knows.

However, I'm going to go nuts tonight and do something crazy to my hair.

The urge has been coming on stronger and stronger lately and I feel that the change is necessary. It's adamantly unavoidable.

Wish me luck and hope that it turns out well.

Hair looks good = photo.

Hair looks awful = long rant about how I hate the way I look and how everything I do turns to shite.

Check back later!

Love, Actually

2009-03-17T11:01:00.000-07:00

Following reports of Natasha Richardson's injury while skiing this past weekend, and subsequent (alleged) brain death, I want to touch upon a subject that is of a relatively sensitive nature (at least to me, anyway) and kind of expound on it a bit.

First, allow me to express my deepest condolences to the family, regardless of the outcome; I can't imagine having something so tragic happening at the drop of a hat, like this has. I can't imagine what her poor family is going through right now, her husband, Liam Neeson and their children, as well. This woman was only forty-five years old. I hope and pray that she can overcome this injury and go back to loving life with her family.

My point of this post is just that... Don't take a breath for granted. Don't waste your time enveloped in anger and wrapped in the past. Don't live with remorse and don't always assume you can apologize next time.

I've spent (and seen) too many moments wished and pissed and frittered away.

I've seen sudden death and the recourse it takes upon those remaining. Things left undone, unplanned, unsaid.

I've seen the remorse of regret that goes hand in hand when someone is suddenly ripped away.

The more people I lovingly surround myself with and allow into my little world, frightens me tenfold as that circle grows larger. The people that I've brought into my life that I care for more than anything are my reason for living, my hopes and my dreams for the future. They are my family.

I can't reiterate the point enough. At the risk of sounding like a bad cliche or sappy ending to an overly-emotional movie; don't take the ones you care about for granted. Don't go to bed angry. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Especially the positive things. Avoid negative people and negative places. Fill your lives with happiness and light, enjoyment and love.

Above all, live each moment as it were your last. Live your life at its potential and do your best in all you do.

The bottom line is: take care of yourselves and even better care of the ones you love.

My (Un)Lovely Lady Lumps

2009-03-16T15:29:00.000-07:00

Prior to becoming pregnant, I never really had what you would refer to as a 'big rack'. I was always a 34 B, not too big, by any far cry and not flat, either. I was just meh.

When I became pregnant, I adopted these gigantic jugs that were just not mine. I don't know who's they were, but surely no product of my body.

And then, there was the aftermath. I breastfed for a few weeks, until my supply dried up and my boobs went back to a minus 34 B. Translation: Not quite a B, but too big for an A cup.

What. Happened. To my boobs.

Realistically speaking, I understand the physiology of the stress pregnancy takes on your cup size. It dramatically differs month to month. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to realize this. You don't even have to have carried a baby to know it.

But now, that I've kind of got my pre-baby body back, I have to practically yearn for what I had before. My pre-baby boobs. Where did they go? Will they come back? I apologize for my lack of discretion; this is a burning question of mine as of late.

I'm twenty-five years old. I need better boobs. I'm honestly starting to think about even paying for them.

If I could afford to spend a few grand on something frivolous...

The more I think about it, I think I would. I don't know. I don't really know how I feel about it. I'm not anti-surgery. I'd never get facial work done, because I'd be too aghast at looking at myself in the mirror and seeing someone even slightly different than what I've gotten used to looking at over my years, liking it or not. I couldn't.

But a boob job might be different.

How do we feel about our boobs, ladies? Is a boob job something we'd rule out? Should I consider it? Does it set back the obligatory feminist in us, no matter how deeply buried?

A Child's Face Can Say So Much... Especially The Mouth Part Of The Face.

2009-03-16T11:12:00.000-07:00

I'd like to take this opportunity to talk about my daughter.

My beautiful, happy sixteen month-old daughter, who is now in the process of cutting her molars.

God love her, she is not happy with anything lately. She's a daddy's girl through and through, but she's been clinging to her mama like plastic wrap lately. Not that I mind, don't get me wrong! I think it's great that mama's got a one-up on daddy... We've got an unspoken battle going on over who the little angel prefers and at this point, I think we're 2 and 1 and I'm up.

I was making a lovely dish of linguine and clam sauce last night to celebrate Sunday and while my illustrious husband was napping, I had the babe out in the kitchen with me while I cooked. She played and played for a little while, banging on the pots and pans that I had so lovingly spread out on the kitchen floor and babbling to her 'dollies' about colors and numbers. We're in the process of teaching her ABCs and her numbers and I have to say; being the absolute brillz child that she is, she's picking up on things so quick.

I digress.

I'm in the process of simmering my sauce just so and the little lady decides she wants some mama-time. Right now. She's starting to cry and grab onto my yoga pants, half-pulling them down in the process. My back door is open. My neighbors are out and about in the lovely weather. I'm mooning them from my kitchen door. Lovely.

I pull my pants back up and turn the heat on the sauce down. Picking up my sweetheart (we'll call her Jane for internet purposes), she curls up in my arms and starts muttering to me about Elmo and how she loves Dora (as in the Exploraaa). She's so endearing at times like this. She's such a strong-willed child, and smart and when she shows a little bit of vulnerability (especially to her mama!), I'm completely blown away.

Doing anything for the rest of the night, baby Jane makes impossible. Not that I mind. I'm soaking up the attention from my own personal daddy's girl and strutting around the house like I won the World Cup or something. Or at least like I got us a good deal on car insurance, anyway.

Needless to say, Jane was so attached to me for the rest of the evening, that I had to kick hubby out of the big, warm, comfortable bed, because she wanted in. I awoke around 3 AM to find her sweet little body curled up against mine, patting my face and saying 'Mama... Mama'. Almost brought me to tears. The love I hold for this little girl is just insurmountable.

Today, my mother comes over to watch the darling and I get ready to go to work. I'm just about ready and Jane is smiling at me and waving at me... Blowing me kisses and showing me her pearly little teeth that she's overcome, so far.

Then she looks at me and says, "Now, GO, Mama. Go", and points to the door.

So much for being a mama's girl.

Goodwill. All Sorts Of It.

2009-03-16T06:09:00.000-07:00

I packed about a quarter of my house yesterday.

For all of you that don't know, we're relocating (and soon, thankfully) and I'm in the midst of some serious packing and sorting and giving-away of stuff. Blah. If any of you want some free clothes, or smoothie-makers, pots, pans or old shoes... I'm your hook-up. At least, for the next few weeks.

Anyway, I had run to a few of the local grocery stores and drugstores to ransack their stock rooms and take all of their boxes, and I actually made out pretty well. I did, however, run into some relatively interesting individuals. People that smiled. People with mullets (wtf). People that made nasty faces at oncoming cars and people that passed them by in the aisles of the store. People that you just knew you'd have to hold your breath while they walked by. People are so funny.

I don't know. I know everyone's got their crosses to bear and what not, but I don't understand why, as a general populace, we can't be more pleasant to one another. Seriously. I mean, I'm kind of confused at the weird looks I get from people (strangers) that I greet in my day. Is that so abnormal? Am I doing something odd?

Sometimes humanity really disappoints me.

Other times, I'm ridiculously impressed.

On a funny note, a co-worker told me today that I'm the most un-inhibited person she's ever met. I think that's a good thing. Maybe she admires me for being so... Well, free. Or maybe she just thinks I'm creepy and weird. Either way. I suppose I made an impression.

The History Of Friday

2009-03-13T11:43:00.000-07:00

I've made it another week. Alas, it's Friday. Friday symbolizes so much for me, as it always has.

Even when I was a little girl, Fridays always held such anticipation of what was to come on the weekends. I had the family that always welcomed my girlfriends for sleepovers and trips to the movie theatres, pool parties (when the weather was warm, of course - I did grow up in the frozen Tundra of Northeastern Pennsylvania where it's Winter nine months out of the year) and pizza.

My best friend, Nicole would normally stay over on these sacred weekends and we'd do all sorts of things that young, pre-pubescent girls do. Hairstyles, facials... One time I convinced her that a 'mask' made of baby powder and lotion would be fantastic for her skin. This sucker was gross. And sloppy. My parents scrubbed my carpet for weeks trying to get the gook out. Needless to say, when she went home the next day, her parents freaked out at the grime that covered her face, her hair and most of her belongings.

I was always the 'friend' getting their other friends into not-so-big trouble. You know. The one that always called too late or the one who convinced their friend to convince their parents to stay over that night, despite the fact that it took an hour of coercing and they just knew that they'd be in trouble for it the next day; it was all in good fun, anyway. It was all for the sake of being kids.

Fridays, when I got older, symbolized massive sleepovers with tons of screeching, screaming girls and late-night phone calls to the local radio stations to request our new, favorite pop-y song that was played on the radio sixteen times a day as it was. It was sneaking out of our furnished basement to take midnight swims in the pool, or to sneak over to the next-door school yard to smoke the obligatory, rebellious teenaged cigarette. In high school, Fridays were summed up by the high school football games and pizza afterwards. Pizza and obnoxiousness. You know the high school brand of obnoxious, where you wave and yell crude things to passerby, driving in their cars. Toilet-papering. The typical behavior of hormone-ridden kids.

Fridays gradually began to symbolize the beginning of an entire week of partying and debauchery. Underaged drinking and going to work with hangovers, trying desperately to hide your bloodshot eyes with concealer and dramatic, over-long bangs. These years seemed to go on for, well... Years. I guess they did. It's amazing how the time goes by so quickly and you find yourself in a completely new place.

Those years eventually progressed into my band-playing days, where Fridays signified extreme anticipation and excitement, wondering where our next gig was going to take us, who we would meet, where we would end up afterwards. Days of sleeping until 4 PM and waking to prepare for the night's show, only to begin again the next day, and the next day after that and so on and so forth.

Those days are long gone.

Now my Fridays consist of a good dinner, a good movie and quality time with my wonderful husband and amazing daughter. We're homebodies now and rightfully content with it. Fridays now begin with the alarm ringing at 7 AM and creeping out of my warm bed, away from my warm husband, tip-toeing past my daughter's bedroom so as not to wake her, just so I could take a brief shower and head to work. Work nowadays is not playing in a band, my instrument, my voice, but calculating client's retirement fund fees and moving money from account to account, day in and day out. Friday mornings fade insignificantly into Friday afternoons and before you know it, it's time to leave work for the day.

That's where I'm at today.

3 PM. Quitting time is 5.

I can't wait to go home and begin my lovely, cozy weekend with my lovely, cozy family, my most important experience of all time and my most valued asset.

These are the best Fridays of my life.

Annie, Are You Okay?

2009-03-11T08:50:00.000-07:00

Last night was the Michael Jackson segment of American Idol.

Needless to say, I'm a gigantic fan of AI and I watch it faithfully each year. I even TiVo it if I don't happen to have the time to watch it on any given night, which rarely ever happens, because anyone who knows me, knows not to bother me on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Under penalty of severe crabbiness.

At any rate, I thought they were all so good. I think this is the first year that I've actually really liked pretty much everyone in the top tier. The only one I'm not ridiculously crazy about is Jasmine. She's a gorgeous girl with a fantastic voice, but she's got the personality of a stale cracker. I understand that she's only sixteen, but come on. Call Adopt-A-Personality, or something. Make it interesting, honey. Some dramz, maybe? Anything?

I'm really excited to see who's voted off tonight. I think it's going to be Jasmine, and probably Anoop, which is unfortunate, because I think Anoop is super-talented, with a great personality, but his rendition of 'Beat It' last night was just horrid.

I also love Megan. She is totally the girl I want to be. I mean, really. She's gorgeous. I'd trade faces with her in a second. She's got a great bod. And, she's just so frigging neat. If I didn't love her so much and want to be 'that girl' so badly, I could potentially hate her forever.

Oh, well. You win some, you lose some.

On another note, I'm being very good with my over-eating today. Wish me luck. I had a bowl of shredded wheat for breakfast (and I'm not generally a breakfast fan; I just have no desire to eat in the morning, oddly enough - just the other fourteen hours or so that I'm awake).

I had a cup of coffee, too, which was just horrid. I don't know what my problem is, but I can't make a decent pot of coffee to save my life. Really; if any of us actually ever cross paths, please don't ask me to provide the coffee. I don't know what I do. Or what I don't do. But it's always relatively mouth-watering, and not in a good way. Gross.

Today's kind of a boring day. I don't really have a whole lot of interesting stories for the day. It's grey and cloudy outside. Warmer than it has been, thankfully, but I think the rain is pending. Which is okay. I'm a rain fan. But sometimes the darkness just makes me feel so blah.
It also appears to affect my husband, but then again, almost anything and everything affects him. He's been miserable all day today. I'm so glad that I'm not home, because I'd probably have to file for divorce, at least just for today. I. Just. Don't understand. And can't really comprehend that yeah, everyone has their moody moments (myself included), but being generally happy and cheerful is not that hard, when you really look into your situation. I guess that doesn't apply to everyone, but in my (our) circumstances, we're in a pretty good place and beyond all irritations and I just don't understand why people let little things irritate them. I'm not going on about it. I'm just going to accept it and be as happy as I can. I'm a generally content person. There are certain things that surely set me off, and quick, but I'm a generally content person.

B to the L-A-H.

Rant. End.

You Can't Have Any Pudding If You Don't Eat Your Meat.

2009-03-10T10:49:00.000-07:00

So, I've been having these 'weeks' lately, where all I truly want to do is eat.

It doesn't really matter what it is; as long as it won't bite me back and it's relatively chewable and passable, I'm down for it.

I know I'm not pregnant. I've been relatively regular with the monthly red bandit, so there's no chance.

I guess the only thing I can attribute it to, legitimately, anyway, is PMS, DMS and AMS (you know how that goes: pre-, during- and after-).

I don't know what the deal is. But I'm really, really not comfortable with it. I'm starting to wonder if I have an eating compulsion, an eating disorder that hides its ugly head deep, deep in my tummy (or my head, maybe?) and insists that I eat eat eat despite the fact that I'm just not hungry.

Maybe it's the weather. Maybe I'm just bored. Or stressed. I don't really know. There's obviously something going on up (or down) in there.

I know... I know that if I don't cut the crap out, I'm going to start gaining weight. And then I'm really going to hate myself. Not because I think women should be cookie-cutter (mmm, cookies, I'd love some cookies, thanks) thin and everyone should look the same; I don't. But I do know what my standards are of myself and if I were to go beyond that, it'd be out of sheer laziness and general pigging out.

I wish I were twelve again, when I could eat whatever the hell I wanted and not have to worry about the repercussions of bloat, breakout and guilt.

A New 'Brand' Of Pirate?

2009-03-10T08:54:00.000-07:00

Amidst recent chatter that there will, in fact, be a fourth installment of cult-hit Pirates of the Caribbean, another British actor is slated to be considered for a role in the hugely popular franchise.

Russell Brand, most popular for his stand up comedic acts, is a candidate being discussed for the new PotC film, alongside Johnny Depp, who, at this point, look like they could be long-lost relatives, if not brothers.

I'm a big fan of Russell Brand. I especially liked his commercial with Britney Spears advertising for the VMAs. They had a very gritty, nasty chemistry that I just adored.

He's campy and fun and obnoxious, but in a good British way that we Americans can all identify with. At least those of us with a sense of humor, anyway. Brand is not for the faint of heart.

Evidently the new prospect for the flick includes Sparrow and Barbossa's characters reuniting in new world New Orleans (my absolute most favorite city on the face of the earth) to search for the Fountain of Youth.

Regardless, I am a gigantic fan of the Pirates films and I greatly look forward to viewing the new installment, Brand-ed or not.

The Intricacies Of Inadecquacy

2009-03-09T19:41:00.000-07:00

Those were two killer words to spell. And I don't even feel like spell-checking them to see if they're right.

You guys can do the math on that one.

I hate. hate. hate. how there's that one person in your life, that no matter what you do, makes you feel like you're always just below par, always just a little bit not good enough.

I have a person in my life, who will remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent, that, with almost every singular step I take or every decision that I make: subtly implies that no matter what I do, is never one hundred percent right. No matter how I look, or what I wear, things I say or enjoy; good is never good enough.

And it's a positively sly manifestation of non-verbal communication. It's actions. It's looks. It's positive neglect to acknowledge my excitement at something that gives me joy or induces pride in whatever it is I might do.

It's the anti self-justification that I've tried fruitlessly to establish over a period in time in my life.

I goddamned (and fuck you, spell-check, I do not want to use the word 'goddaughter' here) well know that I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. I'm attractive enough. I'm involved enough. I care enough.

But there will always be that one person in your life who will negate these happy mantras at their every whim.

A Day In The Life

2009-03-09T12:49:00.000-07:00

So I decided to mix up my blog a little bit, some current events tossed in with little personal anecdotes and what goes on in my day.

Today, well... Today was a very boring day, actually. I guess today is not the day to begin doing this, but hey, now is always the best time, anyway.

I woke up at 7:30, to be at work for 8:30. Luckily enough, I only live (literally) a block from work, so the snooze button on the alarm is my greatest friend in the morning. I snoozed. And snoozed. And snoozed until I saw that it was 8:02.

8:02 AM = No AM shower.

I crawl, half-heartedly, out of bed and drag myself into the bathroom to salvage a semi-acceptable appearance for work. To be quite honest, I'm not caring entirely too much lately, as I'm moving to a much better, happier area and I've only got eight more weeks left at my current job until I begin something new. I do the normal morning routine: wash the face, brush the teeth, attack my Jew-fro with a comb, brush, water, hairdryer, flat-iron and some dynamite. The norm.

I get to work ten minutes early (a record for me) and just. know. that today is going to be one of those ass-dragging, 'everyone's going to irritate me in one way or another' type days.

I kill as much time as I can while in the office. Kind of uneventful.

Around 10 AM, I start popping antibiotics.

Oh, yeah, good story.

I insisted I broke my toe two months ago and no one believed me. I'm a little bit of a drama queen, so I always make a bit more of a deal of things than should be, but hey, I'm a woman and I can get away with these things.

I digress. After "breaking" my toe, weeks and weeks go by and my toe is actually worsening, not getting better. It's my little toe on my left foot, which is, of course, a tender area, even by the low standards of my threshold of pain spectrum. Toe gets redder. Purple-r. Bigger. And bigger yet.

So, finally, this past weekend, I decide to make a move and call my physician. I have to admit, despite the fact that I'm a whiner and complainer when it comes to injuries, minor or not, I'm not a big doctor-goer.

I go to the doctor (after waiting for an hour and a half, in which I actually, seriously contemplated just going home and making a go of dealing with the pain and swelling and grossness) and he takes a look at it and decides he wants to do an x-ray. I take a limp down to the radiology department in the building and they microwave my toe. I limp back to the examination room and wait for this doctor to come back. I wait another half hour. By this time, I'm so disgusted that I'm considering leaving. Again. I start muttering insults and curses under my breath, in half-hopes that someone will hear me and ask what my problem is, or if they can help me or get someone for me. To no avail, I might add.

The doctor finally decides to show back up and let me know that my toe was, indeed, broken at one point in the past few weeks and it was now infected (ew, gross, an infected toe) because of the unnatural way it healed. Outwardly, bone-wise, it doesn't appear to be deformed. But I guess you never can really tell with tiny digits. And I do have little toes.

So, regardless. They put me on antibiotics (high-dose, take them four times a day antibiotics) and here I am today, at work, late, un-showered, gross and irritated just on the sheer basis of being here.

Beauty And The Beast

2009-03-09T12:21:00.000-07:00

Tale as old as time.

Unfortunately, as true as it can be.

Rihanna, the recently-beaten, heads back to work this week not days after deliberations that charged Brown with felony assault and terroristic threats. According to her producer, Adonis Shropshire, Rihanna is resuming her life and beginning new recordings. "She's doing okay", Shropshire is quoted to say. Shropshire explains that Rihanna is using her music to "move forward".

Move forward, indeed.

Rihanna, aka Robyn Rihanna Fenty, has declined a no-contact order against the accused beater.

There. Are. No. Words.

I understand that she's under a great amount of stress right now. I can believe that she's confused and hurt and doesn't know where to turn.

But how. How. In God's green Earth, do you turn to the one who practically strangled you to the point of unconsciousness?

I can't fathom it. I can't even stomach it.

I'm a reformed victim of emotional abuse (just as real as any abuse that there is) and once my relationship dipped to an all-time low, I was out. I was done. There's only so much you can take (and simultaneously know in the back of your mind that you shouldn't be putting up with it, 'loving him' or not).

I am, as I am sure are Rihanna's fans, wholeheartedly disappointed in her lack of repulsion of this horrible creature known as Chris Brown. There is no turning back for her, now. And I'm sorry to say, after taking a mistake back of this magnitude, whatever comes to her down the road is entirely on her head.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying 'she deserves what she gets' by any means; this is clearly a damaged, wounded girl. However, there is only so much accountability that can be taken for things that are out of your control. Beyond that, it's all growth and reliance on your own previous experiences.

Such a sad, sad situation.

I don't see this ending well.

Everyone's A Critic.

2009-01-30T12:52:00.000-08:00

Let's be honest.

Jessica Simpson has put on a lot of weight since her Daisy Duke days.

And frankly, I don't think there's any-damn-thing wrong with it. I am so sick and tired of the media trying to dictate what women should look like, what their sizes should be, how big their tits are, what size designer jeans they should be buying - I've completely had it.

I'm an intelligent person, in my own, humble opinion; and I, even, can't help but be swayed by these rail-thin Victoria's secret models and stereotypes that anything beyond a 4 is considered 'fat'.

I am not fat.

I am not overweight.

I don't even have 'a few extra pounds'.

I am just normal, just Sarah.

I'm not going to lie though; do I feel badly about eating a couple tablespoons of ice cream? Yep. Do I feel badly if I eat later than 5 PM? Yep. Do I obsess and obsess about the minor things that could be changed on my body? I abso-fucking-lutely do.

And why, we ask ourselves. Why we feel this way. Is it something inherent, embedded in the human gene? Is it because 90% of adolescents nowadays have mental or personality issues (supposedly)?

Or could it be that society itself is just completely subjective and biased against any woman who's not a size 00? I'm sorry. I just can't swallow that with any satisfaction.

It's an unfortunate, unfortunate disease that women (and some men, I'm sure) have to suffer and society makes it no better.

I find myself completely obsessed about the way that I look in anything and it's not a healthy image to have about one's self.

I have to give credit to Jessica Simpson - she's not at all as dumb as I had originally pegged her.

In, fact, I think she's actually pretty smart. Anyone who can go from the spotlight, being one of Hollywood's 'hottest bodies' to this new, curvy, (happy) Jessica, deserves some major respect.

This Just Provokes Such Sadness In Me.

2009-01-26T05:54:00.000-08:00

Caylee Anthony, slain daughter of Casey Anthony, is pictured above.

I've been following this case pretty much right from the get-go, and since day one, I've been convinced of Casey's guilt. How could you possibly do what she did to a child, let alone your own child?

I'm a mother to a wonderful, sweet, happy fifteen month-old and she is just my life. She's my first child (hopefully not my last) and she completely brightens my life to a degree I once thought impossible to reach.

However, there are certain fuckheads out there that care simply for themselves and have the capacity of a rock to love and nurture. (Casey Anthony.)

This story just gets worse and worse each and every time I open the newspaper.

Reports say that Caylee's grandfather, George Anthony, was found at a motel in Florida after making suicide threats. I can't imagine what this poor man must be going through. Not only to lose his beautiful granddaughter, but to have his daughter locked up for the crime. And I'm sure he's convinced of her guilt, just as I am, just as a lot of people are.

Latest reports state that Caylee's remains were found in a canvas laundry bag placed in a black garbage bag, with a Winnie The Pooh book nearby, a knife inside and a stuffed animal. Her mouth and head were also duct-taped and a heart-shaped sticker was placed over the child's mouth.

How do you go back from there?

How this woman can sit smugly in jail and worry for none but herself, is beyond me. I'm a firm supporter of the death penalty, and I really hope she's convicted and has to suffer the way that poor child did.

Yuck. Just so upsetting.

Just A Regular, Old Post.

2009-01-24T08:02:00.000-08:00

Hi, guys.

I normally don't like to put bits of my personal life into my blog, because frankly, no one cares, nor should they - lol - but I'm super excited and needed to vent somewhere!

My hubby was accepted at a super-sweet college yesterday and... we're moving! I can't convey to you how excited I am. We're in Northeastern Pennsylvania right now, and currently, it's about minus three degrees or something, with a wind chill factor of about negative sixty or something ridiculous.

We're not going crazy South, but it's going to be a helluva lot warmer where we go. Then again, Michigan would probably be warmer this time of year. Whatevs. We'll be gone earliest, June, latest, August.

Regardless, I'm happy. He's happy. We're all happy.

Be happy for me! Yay!

Doesn't Someone Feel Like An Asshole.

2009-01-23T07:47:00.001-08:00

Pink, and estranged hubby, Carey Hart, seemed to have reconciled.

After an almost-year-long break, the talented (?) singer and cycle-enthusiast Hart have gotten back together. Pink and Carey were seen together on New Years' Eve, where she performed at his music club. The pair shared a kiss on New Years'.

How sweet.

What about all of those angst-y songs she wrote about him? Can't exactly take them back, now can we? Sort of damaged our opinions on the fame sucker known as Carey Hart, right?

Let's see how long it lasts this time.

Note to ladies: This is what happens when you pop the question.

Maybe now she can go by 'Pink Hart' and be even more obnoxious.

Image: nj.com

Disgruntled and Disappointed.

2009-01-22T07:41:00.000-08:00

So, I wasn't chosen for the Evil Beet writer position. Ugh. I made it to Round Two and was eliminated.

So, what am I going to do, you ask?

Whatevs, just going to keep on keeping on. I'm not going to stop blogging and deprive you of the entertainment value; the only difference you'll see is there'll be less celebrity fodder, more of my opinion.

Anyway, thanks to you all for following me and I hope to continue our journey together.

Just Another Sunny Ray Of Light.

2009-01-21T11:02:00.001-08:00

For all of you out there that just can't get enough of the new, (and old!) skeevy Madonna photos.

This photo is one of her new Hard Candy promo shots. What say you?

You can sure tell that Madge doesn't approve of airbrushing or Photoshop; check those varicose veins. I didn't even know you could get varicose veins on your shoulders. Maybe it's from all that weightlifting or something, I couldn't really be bothered to find out.

And you can just tell, based on the chicken skin between her breasts, if she took that bra off, those jugs would be suitable as a belt. Or a scarf.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about rocking the non-Photoshopped look, because I think it really empowers people to just be who they are, but if Madonna wants to continue her title as a sex-symbol, she really needs to lay off the photo shoots.

At least, for the rest of her life.

Raffaello Follieri Was Only Embezzling To Pay For Anne's Facelift.

2009-01-21T07:49:00.000-08:00

Aah, a face only an experienced con-man could love.

Anne Hathaway, probably one of the most irritating actresses anywhere, in my opinion, has Audrina Partridge eyes in this photo, in addition to the weird neck she's got going on, too.

She's photographed at the Creative Coalition event in DC last night, one of the many parties held in honor of President Obama's inauguration.

And her Daddy was her date.

How sweet.

Jennifer (Lo)Pez Dispenser.

2009-01-21T07:36:00.000-08:00

Jennifer Lopez (I guess?) and Marc Anthony at the Inaugural Ball last night in DC.

The couple looks relatively happy, contrary to reports that their relationship is on the rocks, or maybe it's just the lithium. Or at least the company of important people.

If I may say, this looks nothing like J. Lo, I had to even double-check to make sure it's her. But, alas, it is.

I guess Manthony is more controlling than we had originally thought... Made her go for a body swap/facelift that makes her look like the Pez dispenser version of herself.

Where's LaBeouf? And Also, Isn't LaBeouf French For The Beef? Which Kind Of Makes That Even Funnier. Hah. Shia? The Beef? Where's The Beef?

2009-01-20T18:40:00.000-08:00

Aww, whatever.

I can tell you where he's not - and that's driving, for quite some time.

Or, really, since he's a celeb, it'll probably only be for about six point two-four hours or something.

Oh, well.

Shia, who was involved in an accident in July of 2008, has (finally) been sentenced. LA County's DA office reports that Shia's license has been suspended.

I'd like to see how they're going to prevent this from falling through.

Aww, Miley Feels An Emotion Other Than Stupid. Erm, Wait. Is That An Emotion? Who Cares. She Is.

2009-01-20T18:32:00.000-08:00

Miley and dad, Billy Joe Jim Bob Arbuckle Cyrus, perform at the "Kids' Inaugural: We Are the Future" concert today at the Verizon Center in DC for President Obama's inauguration.

Miley sheds some light and pearls of wisdom to new First Daughters, Sasha and Malia, saying "You girls must be awfully proud of your dad -- and so am I."

Miley, Miley, Miley.

When are you going to drop the good-girl act and be the skank that you know you really are? I've never seen a celebrity with such an identity crisis.

Except for Dad, Billy Ray... (S)He's" just being" (Miley) Stephen King lately.

Check him out.

Oh, shitfuckit, that awful songs' in my head, now.

The Ever-Evolving Chihuahua.

2009-01-20T18:24:00.000-08:00

Vanessa Hudgens, who constantly tries to reinvent herself and always ends up looking more and more like a small breed of dog, has been spotted out twice in the past few days sans much-hotter boyfriend, Zac Efron.

I wonder what the deal is there?

Is he becoming close, personal friends with his doppelganger celebrity, Megan Fox?

Oddly enough, Megan was recently seen at an awards show without current fiance/fame-sucker, Brian Austin Green, chatting it up with Efron and looking quite cozy.

Hasn't someone told him the 90210 days are over? And while they're at it, tell Jennie Garth, Shannen Doherty and Tori Spelling? Oh, and also, he's just an aging, washed up has been?

Anyway. Zac should get rid of Diggy the Dachshund before she drags him down any further and sign on with Megan Fox. I bet we'd get some good stories out of that hookup!

These Two Definitely Top The List Of Most Boring Celebrity Power-Couples.

2009-01-19T19:59:00.001-08:00

If you've really read any of my postings in depth, you'll certainly see that I'm the eternal optimist, so...

I pose this question.

When are these two going to end it? I mean, come on! It was almost completely unbelievable when they first got together, like Ashton was punking us once again, but this is some grand-scale shit.

This is waste people's time shit.

I'm sorry. I never really was a Demi fan, and I always liked Ashton, so maybe it's a bit of a jealousy thing, which I am totally not above, but this thing's got to end one way or another.

She's almost like a female Hugh Hefner... Just with bigger boobs (but not by much, that man's got moobs)... And less grey hair. Oh, and minus those juggy chicks that always follow him around. And, I guess, minus Cris Angel lurking around the mansion's bedroom windows in the late evenings, just waiting for the next Playmate to lose her shit and go all off on Hef.

Okay, I'm off on a tangent. I guess she's nothing like Hef.

Other than the fact that she could practically be his mother.

Anna Kournikova, Holy Hell Do You Look Awful.

2009-01-19T19:49:00.001-08:00

Please, really, someone tell me that's not really Anna Kournikova. Really?!

At first glance, I would have bet my life it was Candace Cameron, circa Full House.

But alas, I'm told, it's none other than the famous, formerly gorgeous, Anna Kournikova.

She's definitely looking a bit off in this photo. I pray to God that she's pregnant. Anna is long-term girlfriend of Enrique Iglesias. If she is preggers, that's just wonderful, and congrats to the couple!

But I'm going to warn you, Anna. If you look like this right now... It's going to take you at least a year and a half to get back to your sweet-assed self. I speak from experience, darling, here I am fifteen months later and I'm still not yet 'normal'.

On the flip side, if she's not pregnant... Well, then.

Enrique, I'm so sorry for you!

If That's Macaulay, I'll Eat My Hat. Or Shoe. Or, Really, Any Inanimate Object I Happen To Have Nearby.

2009-01-19T19:40:00.000-08:00

Mila Kunis, star of That 70's Show and voice of cartoon character Meg (Family Guy) exits Bed, Bath and Beyond with some odd looking guy that's definitely not Macaulay Culkin. Any idea who this kid might be?

You know, I always gathered Macaulay to be the jealous type.

I mean, you all saw his mugshot, right?

Pretty demented looking, huh?

I don't know, man. But I don't see this being anything too good down the line. The fur's going to fly somewhere. I just hope there's cameras around to catch it. Macaulay's been holding in all this repressed anger somewhere from being an inhibited child star, thrust into the spotlight at a young age, befriended by Michael Jackson, only to have a respectable career torn from him at the wrong moment.

And then to be photographed looking like Jeffrey Dahmer's younger brother.

I just hope it doesn't interfere with Mila's role as Meg. I couldn't imagine anyone else pulling that ridiculous, whining, nasal voice off.

I mean, Fran Drescher is running for Congress or something now, right?

This Woman Shouldn't Talk. Her Name's Soledad, For Christ's Sake.

2009-01-19T19:23:00.000-08:00

Soledad O'Brien, legendary bitch of media, has outdone herself this week.

Reports say that O'Brien, Secretary of her co-op NYC condo board, has sent an affidavit to have a... dog... evicted from the premises.

A fucking dog? Are you kidding me?

To be of fair mind, I suppose we all must ask: Is the dog loud? Does he bark and growl, or possibly attack? Does he happen to be of the rabid persuasion?

Nope, not according to sources cited in the NY Post. It's simply on the basis that the dog... Well, does what a dog does.

Drools. Ranks a little bit now and again. Breaks wind whenever he has the chance. You know.

Typical. Dog. Behavior.

Owner, Steven Lyons, is quoted to tell the Post that, “She told me at a shareholder’s meeting that my dog stinks. Her behavior has been particularly outrageous".

Not only does this miserable excuse of a woman "stink", but she sucks, too, but I don't see anyone penning an affidavit to remove her from the premises or to prevent her from doing whatever the hell it is she pleases.

That's it. What do you say?

Someone draw up the paperwork; my signature will be first on that bitch!

Oh, Burn.

2009-01-19T17:18:00.001-08:00

Despite the fact that Kate Winslet is "happy" and "married", it doesn't put the kibosh on the always-circulating rumors of her pining away for former (and current) co-star, Leonardo DiCaprio.

Unfortunately for Kate, Leo claims that kissing Kate is like "kissing" his "sister".

Oh, Kate, Burn.

Leo goes on to say, "It's natural and I feel completely comfortable. In a twisted way it's like kissing a family member".

Well, the chemistry these two crazy kids had on Titanic, and from what I've heard on the set of their new flick, Revolutionary Road, it's a little odd that Kate and Leo have the kind of chemistry that is had between family members.

Certainly not mine.

And also, in this picture, DiCrapio looks like Billy Bob Thornton's character in Sling Blade.

Norman and Me. Erm, Jennifer.

2009-01-19T17:02:00.000-08:00

A sympathetic paparazzi saved Jennifer Aniston's dog's life tonight.

As you can tell, it's a slow news night, so this tops the charts for me.

No word on if Jennifer rewarded the pap for his good deed.

Maybe she'll allow him to spend the evening with Mr. Mayer to return the favor.

Since all of her promoting is done for Marley and Me, she won't be needing John too much anymore, right?

Ruffalo Case Ruled Homicide.

2009-01-19T14:41:00.000-08:00

It only gets worse.

Scott Ruffalo's death has been ruled a homicide, according to the county coroner's office.

“The entry wound is located at the top of the head at the frontoparietal scalp,” the autopsy reads.

I can't imagine what his poor family is going through, even now. First a murder, then a suicide, now a murder again.

They shouldn't have let those schmucks go as quickly as they did.

There's definitely something fishy going on here and I truly hope they get to the bottom of it for his family's sake.

O(bama) is for Oh, Sweet Jesus.

2009-01-19T14:31:00.000-08:00

Could this actually be a genuine picture of Samantha Ronson smiling?

Lindsay, who I love, because she's absolutely fucking nuts - and she's not afraid to show it - looks fantastic in this picture, at the inauguration festivities for President-elect Barack Obama, and Sam looks... Well, she doesn't look awful, I can say that with honesty.

Sam's a pretty girl. If she's going to be La Lohan's man (woman?), she's going to have to kick the face up a notch.

Smile, Sam, smile.

And Lindsay, who you can tell is just ready to brew up her next big blowout, is just sweet in her little frock. Oh, Lindsay. You're the role model out there for all semi-psychotic American girls, because I think we all have a little Lohan in us, deep down somewhere.

Paris Wants Herself A Piece Of Angie.

2009-01-19T14:21:00.000-08:00

P. Hil, who has gone through a slew of "best friends", most notably Nicole Ritchie, Lindsay Lohan (pictured above), Britney Spears, Kim Kardashian and now hanger-on Brittany Flickinger (I'm sorry, I don't care how talented and selfless this girl claims to be, she'll never make it in Hollywood with a name like that), wants none other than Angelina Jolie as a best friend.

Could you imagine the pap swarm if those two were to start palling around together?

Paris is quoted saying, "Someone I can trust. And they have to be compassionate, caring and fun" is what she requires in a BFF.

La Paree, who believes she has a lot in common with Angie also says, "I've had a lot of people in my past who were friends with me just to get publicity."

How ironic.

Where The Wild Things Weren't.

2009-01-19T14:13:00.000-08:00

Christina Aguilera threw baby Max his first birthday party, Where The Wild Things Are-style. Pretty good idea, and also quite cute, to boot. My daughter's 1st birthday party was Dora the Explorer themed, and she didn't give a rat's ass.

Christina, who was publicly blasted not long after the birth of her son for being on the party circuit so soon, decided to have some down time with her child and throw him a star-studded bash, including friends like Nicole Ritchie and Joel Madden.

How nice of her.

I wonder if the color of Max's hair is her natural color, too?

I guess, my friends, this is just another one of the World's Greatest Mysteries.

The Most Irrelevant Celebrity Of The Day.

2009-01-18T16:57:00.001-08:00

Mischa Barton, one of my favorite holier-than-thou trainwrecks makes headlines on my site today for being the Most Irrelevant Celebrity of the Day.

Why, you ask?

Other than her lack of valid work for the past few years, her high-end (in her high mind) headband line...

It appears Mischa is now the proprietor of an online handbag store.

Check it out here and tell me what you think. Are they as craptastic as her acting skills?

Mischa Barton: As irrelevant as her headbands.

Katy Perry? You Decide.

2009-01-18T16:50:00.000-08:00

Photos of an allegedly nude Katy Perry have made their rounds to the internet, barely two weeks after her split from Gym Class Heroes' Travis McCoy.

Travis, so stylishly and so chivalrously, took to his blog shortly after to pen a song or a poem or something to the tune of their split.

Could this be Katy's revenge? If it is, it's super sweet.

I followed a bit of his blog, and Travis always seemed like the mildly possessive type.

Maybe this will put him in his place!

Check out the uncensored version here. It is, of course, NSFW.

I'm unsure of the validity of it, and it could be a total hoax, but you decide for yourself. Personally, I don't think so - this girl is kind of trying for the Katy pout, and not really pulling it off, but hey -- maybe it's Katy in the morning, pre-coffee.

Amy Winehouse, Corrupting Young Children.

2009-01-18T16:25:00.000-08:00

Amy Crackhouse plans on starting her own record label.

This should be interesting.

She's evidently naming it Lioness... And her first signed artist?

Her thirteen year-old goddaughter, Dionne Bromfield.

Dionne recently accompanied Amy on her holiday to St. Lucia.

Let's hope little Dionne doesn't follow in her auntie's footsteps.

Where's The (Thug) Love?

2009-01-18T15:12:00.000-08:00

After a screening of the new flick, Notorious, based on who else, the Notorious B.I.G, several people were stabbed at an after party, not even four blocks from where the now deceased rapper lived.

I wonder if Lil Kim was there.

Or maybe Puffy and J. Lo, reminiscing their old gangsta days. Maybe it all started over Lil Kim, since she was the brunt of many fights (and jokes!) back in that day.

I guess pimping ain't easy.

A Perfect Gentleman For The Bean-y Baby.

2009-01-18T13:32:00.000-08:00

Frances Bean Cobain, looking more and more gorgeous each day, reportedly has a crush on British star of Twilight, (and Harry Potter!) Robert Pattinson.

The more I think about this, the more it makes sense to me. He's just amazingly handsome and she's so intriguing and sweet and beautiful, and despite the fact that Pattinson loves to brag about the chicks he bags, I think it'd be a match made in heaven.

Frances, who's sixteen, should probably be about ripe to enter the celebrity scene - kids are getting younger and younger these days - but I really have a good feeling about her.

And I'm sure Courtney Crazy Love will do anything and everything in her power to make it happen, 'cause she's just Santa Claus like that.

She's Beautiful And I'm Damned.

2009-01-18T08:36:00.000-08:00

Keira Knightley, most famous for her acting in Pirates of the Caribbean, is sticking to her story as a period-piece actress.

This girl is just so gorgeous, it makes me sick. Even in spite of the fact that she is kind of scary skinny (I could deal, I could deal!), she's still completely and utterly beautiful. She's got that kind of old-Hollywood style about her and I'd give the left side of my face to look like her.

At any rate, she's been cast to play Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald, F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife, in upcoming Beautiful and the Damned.

If the Curious Case of Benjamin Button is any indication as to how good this movie should be, (BB is written by Fitzgerald; this production will be based on the Fitzgeralds' lives) then I'm sure we won't be disappointed.

Personally, I think she's perfect for the film.

Bandwagon Much?

2009-01-18T07:13:00.001-08:00

I'm honestly and truly not surprised that these two are still among the Hollywood elite. I mean, come on.

These two people are so real and so full of humorous anecdotes and wise words for all to live by.

They stand up for what they believe in. (Whether it happens to be John McCain or Barack Obama, or really, in their case, both.) They would never pirate the spotlight for their own gain.

At any rate, Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, cycling near their LA home.

Nobody Puts Swayze In The Corner!

2009-01-18T06:41:00.001-08:00

Patrick Swayze has been looking better and better, in my opinion, despite the thyroid cancer and treatment and pneumonia and all that.

Really.

Nothing can bring this guy down. And I say that in a positive way, because I love the man.

Yeah, he's a little on the thin side, his face kind of looks a bit haggard than it did in Dirty Dancing or Roadhouse, but dammit, he looks fantastic for his conditions.

Swayze, who was just released from the hospital this past week, following a bout of pneumonia, is home again.

"I am happy to announce that Patrick Swayze is home after a brief hospitalization for pneumonia," his rep Annett Wolf tells PEOPLE exclusively.

Fantastic.

Nothing. And I mean nothing.

Can bring the Swayze down.

I think I'm going to watch Dirty Dancing today.

Another Day, Another Verne Troyer Disaster.

2009-01-17T19:34:00.000-08:00

Verne Troyer, actor most famous (okay, well only famous) for his role in the Austin Powers movies.

Verne has since used his celebrity to anesthetize himself with drugs and alcohol (to the point of many, many embarrassing outcomes), bed beautiful women (yep, again, embarrassing) and land a sweet gig on Celebrity Big Brother (probably the most embarrassing of all).

We've all heard the stories, the sexual fetishes, the drunken-passed-out-pre-sex-excitement, but folks, you can see it right here for free, where Verne overdoes it (again) on the alcohol and once more (again again again) makes a fool out of himself.

I can only assume this is just another day in the celebrity life for Verne.

Then again, you assume... You make an ass out of you and Mini-Me.

Something Stinks.

2009-01-17T19:27:00.000-08:00

And it's probably Jeremy-fucking-Piven who can't shut his stupid fish-stink face about his stupid fish story.

Frankly, I didn't care when it happened. I was kind of even relieved to find out he'd been 'poisoned', because then I'd have to hear less about the fool.

Publicity stunt. Something.

At this point, I'd poison myself just to avoid hearing this stupid story over and over again.

The dude's an asshat.

End of story.

Wanna See An Extra Nipple? Again?

2009-01-17T19:17:00.001-08:00

What about a super-HAWT Homer Simpson tattoo? (...wtf?)

Check this out.

It's Lily and some douche whom she refers to as 'porky', on a boat doing an interview. Check around the 2:20 mark for the eerie deformity and around 2:41 for the hotness that is Homer.

Oh, and also, she and that old man split.

Thought you ought to know.

I'd Lose An Arm To See This Shit.

2009-01-17T19:00:00.000-08:00

Presenting: former wife of Presidential-nominee, John McCain... ...Drumroll, please.

...What the fuck's her first name again?

Kidding.

Coming to a television station near you: The lovely, reanimated crypt keeper (and here, we thought that show had been cancelled) may be a guest on 'Dancing With the Stars'.

You just have to check this woman out, come on, she's hot. She could give old Cloris a run for her money any day, here. They've got to be close in age, too, am I right?

I don't know about all of you, but I'm frightened.

Really, and truly frightened.

This woman will somehow end up in the White House. Maybe she thinks by coming a celebutante a la Paris Hilton is the way. Maybe if she thinks she's good enough, President Elect Obama will invite her to stay a weekend as the cabaret entertainment or something.

Speaking of which, Cindy McCain? Paris Hilton in ten years. The resemblance is uncanny.

This Phoenix Won't Rise.

2009-01-17T18:34:00.000-08:00

One of my all-time favorite actors appears to be going way down the tube. Joaquin Phoenix, who's starred in so many amazing films with his equally amazing skills... I am so sad.

After talk of retirement and Joaquin's cryptic Sharpie-written message scrawled on his hands, I think people were calling his bullshit. Another actor turned-failed-musician, whatevs, same old story.

But this?

It was exactly as cool as I expected it to be.

This shit's going to be something no one's ever going to let him forget!

Bye! Good.

Amy Winehouse, Out Of Control? Never.

2009-01-17T13:43:00.000-08:00

Amy Winehouse, quite surprisingly, had been on such good behavior over the past few weeks. Ditched that douchebag Blake Fielder-Civil, took of to St. Lucia and met a nice, Jewish, clean-cut boy who seemed to really like her for what she was. For some reason or another.

Just as all good things must come to an end, new reports are leaking that Amy has been skulking around the resort, consuming any alcohol she can manage (and by manage, I mean steal off of the other guests when they weren't looking) and now, most unfortunately, opening her mouth about her devotion to the man she was quoted to say only a mere two weeks ago, that "sex with Blake" was "rubbish". She "felt like she was dead" each and every time.

Oh, Amy.

I remember the first time I heard your music, being a big jazz fan. I was just completely blown away by your talent, your eccentricity and your general appeal. I'd been a fan of yours from day one, and despite the fact that you were really starting to earn my respect back, you had to open that rancid hole in your face and start spouting off about your very own demented, English, drug-addled Spencer Pratt.

“People think I'm a mess or something but I'm having such a great time and feeling so good at the moment. I'm certainly not out of control as some people have said,” says Amy.

Probably while crawling from table to table, waiting for its occupants to leave so she can swig back that last bit of alcohol/melted ice combination that's always so refreshing.

"I still love my Blake. I won't let him divorce me," People magazine quotes her as saying.

Amy Winehouse once said she'd be joining the twenty-seven club.

She gets back together with this fool and I won't doubt it.

And This Is Why You Don't Take Your Spouse's Name Upon Marriage, Especially If It Sounds Like Some Kind Of Obscene Bodily Function.

2009-01-16T18:29:00.000-08:00

I've heard this woman is an absolute nightmare of a diva on set, but that doesn't justify the ridiculousness that is Daniel Giersch.

Gossip Girls' Kelly Rutherford, now four months pregnant, filed for divorce this past December.

So, of course, Giersch (skeevy name that sounds like an overly mucous-filled sneeze) counter filed and cited that Ms. Rutherford has a nasty temper. An emergency hearing had recently taken place, because she feared that her estranged husband will attempt to leave the country with the little boy.

And he says she has a nasty temper?

Dude.

That woman's four months pregnant. Her hormones are out of control. You're lucky that she didn't lambaste your eerily-large forehead with some kind of blunt object while you slept, for impregnating her in the first place. Or second place. Or whatever.

If anyone's interested in ready the gory (lengthy and monotonous) details of the filing, you can do so here.

Giersch alleges that Rutherford attempted to "hit" him with "an open fist" in an "angry outburst".

Come on, Giersch, (yuck, again) the term 'open fist' is an oxymoron and is synonymous with "You're a pussy!".

The Most Irrelevant Celebrity Of The Day

2009-01-16T11:21:00.000-08:00

Aah, Jessica Simpson. Former Hollywood "It" girl. Falls from grace after divorcing Nick Lachey (good for her, however), dates a string of playboys and ends up with Knight in Shining Armor, Tony Romo. I like them together, I really do. They're both nice, down-home country folk and I think they'd really make a nice little family. Jess, who's career is dwindling down to performing at chili cook-offs, seems to be eeking from the spotlight more and more lately, reasons unknown, but I'd like to think it's because she just wants to settle and be a Mama, rather than be another blonde Hollywood has-been.

Nevertheless, here's a fun little Jessica factoid:

In March 2006, Jessica was dumped via a "fun and friendly" text message by then boyfriend Adam Levine of Maroon 5. Apparently he did mind spending everyday with the blonde beauty because he text her “Really busy. Need space.”

Jessica Simpson: Becoming more and more irrelevant every day.

At Least It Wasn't a Hibachi Table.

2009-01-16T09:10:00.000-08:00

What could potentially be more awkward than running into your ex, while you're not looking your best, and he's with his much hotter, totally smoking, all the time, even when she looks like "crap", girlfriend?

The Britster and mom, Lynne, decided to make an ill-informed run to LA's Yatai Asian Tapas bar while lovebirds Jessica and Justin dined.

Evidently there were two reports: One stating that Justin (not Jessica) was gracious and welcoming, waving to Britney, at least trying to alleviate the obvious tension in the air.

Other reports say that Justin and Jessica slunk down in their seats like sixth graders not wanting to be seen by the cool kids at the mall.

Personally, I think I'd believe the latter, because Justin seems to go along with everything that Jess says and does, anyway.

Poor Brit can't catch a break!

Jealous and Self-Conscious Today!

2009-01-16T07:56:00.000-08:00

Let me begin by saying how adorable I think Christina Ricci is. I just think she is so cute. If I were the type to surgically alter my face, I might do something along the lines of Ms. Ricci. However, I would never 1) be able to afford something like that, and 2) don't think I'd be able to deal with looking in the mirror every day for the rest of my life and seeing something different that what I've gotten used to over the course of twenty-six years.

Nevertheless, Christina Ricci, who will be starring in the upcoming movie, The Hero of Color City, along with Rosie Perez, Craig Ferguson and Arsenio Hall, as a crayon.

I think it's neat that she shows her versatility in roles such as Rae, in Black Snake Moan, co-starring Justin Timberlake and Samuel L. Jackson and then, in turn, does great kid movies such as Speed Racer.

I've always liked this girl.

Definitely an overly talented, under-rated actress, who's a total hottie, to boot.

Rehab Is A Full House.

2009-01-15T11:42:00.000-08:00

Despite husband Cody Herpin's allegations, Jodie Sweetin insists that she is (at least for now) sober.

According to an interview with People magazine, Jodie states: "There are a lot of things being said about my using that are not going on right now. I want to make it known that I am absolutely, 100 percent sober."

Jodie, who reportedly relapsed this past Summer, drinking "several glasses of wine", has been clean since then. Douche-bag Herpin states otherwise.

I hope for that baby's sake, she is sober.

The only thing worse than a deadbeat dad is a deadbeat mom.

I Just Like This Guy.

2009-01-15T11:14:00.000-08:00

Dolores Fonzi, long-term girlfriend of Gael Garcia-Bernal and Argentinian actress, gave birth to a son last week in Spain. The new baby boy was named Lazaro.

This child is sure to be just gorgeous, as are both of his parents.

Bernal starred in one of the best foreign films, in my opinion, The Motorcycle Diaries, which was based on a diary written by Che Guevara, depicting his travels with a friend at twenty-three.

This is surely a movie, that if you haven't seen already, you must.

Congrats to the proud parents!

Britney Bradshaw?

2009-01-15T10:40:00.000-08:00

The Britster is reported to be playing Sarah Jessica Parker's cousin in the upcoming SATC movie. Interesting.

Despite all of her going's on over the past few years (and this is coming from someone who absolutely detested Britney at one point in time), I'm pretty happy for her and her new-found sanity. She's kind of accomplished more in the past year than she has in the past five. Let's just hope her performance is better than 2002's Crossroads.

Honestly, I think she'll do just great.

On another note, is this movie really happening, or not? I hear it is, then it's off, then it's back on, then Kim Cattrall is making presumptuous statements and suggestions and SJP's shooting them all down...

Who knows. I'm not even sure the producers know yet.

And this picture?

I apologize. I simply couldn't resist. This might be one of my all-time favorite Brit pics.

The Most Irrelevant Celebrity Of The Day

2009-01-15T08:32:00.000-08:00

"The youngest of four sisters, Eva Longoria says she was called 'la prieta faya' or 'the ugly, dark one' as a child".

Anyone give a rat's ass?

Aah.

Eva Longoria: STILL Irrelevant.

Anna Lynn McCord Poses For GQ.

2009-01-15T07:47:00.000-08:00

90210's Anna Lynn McCord will pose for February's issue of GQ Magazine.

I have to say, I saw photos of her posted this past week, at the beach, and she was actually... Frolicking. As in playing in the surf, running 'round, no jewelry, no makeup, just having fun like a normal girl at the beach.

Gotta give it to her, unlike some celebrities that show up to the beach with a full face of makeup and thirty-eight pounds of jewelry. I don't really get that look, anyway. Jewelry at the beach? Won't that cause tan lines? Or at least, scorch marks from large, hot pieces of metal pressing on your skin?

Can't be comfortable.

Regardless, the Anna Lynn McCord that I'm beginning to respect more and more, posing for GQ Magazine next month, along with her funny bellybutton.

Not Because I Believe This, But Because If It Were True, It'd Be Great.

2009-01-15T07:07:00.000-08:00

Wouldn't this just be amazing? Former trainwreck and current trainwreck, uniting in the face of public ridicule and adversity?

No, but really. This claim is completely unbelievable, and I'm sure if the encounter even occurred, it was either by chance or simply a friendly meeting.

Reportedly, my favorite Long Island "lady" was seen in Nobu last week, in the company of none other than Madonna's ex, Sean Penn, after her alleged split from Sammy Ronson.

Wouldn't that be something else?

I actually kind of like Sean Penn. He's getting up there in age, but he's still just as cute as he was when he co-starred in Dead Man Walking with Susan Sarandon. Great flick.

Anyway, I can see the catfight between LiLo and Sam from miles away, if this little nugget of sunshine were to be true.

And didn't Mickey Rourke recently claim Penn to be gay? I definitely couldn't see that, but hey.

It'd be a sweet little love sammie (haha, I said 'sammie') for Sammy, LiLo and Sean.

Madonna's Daughter To Attend Children's Professional School

2009-01-14T18:11:00.000-08:00

Lourdes Ciccone-Leon, daughter of Madonna and dancer, Carlos Leon, will be attending the Children's Professional School this year.

Lourdes will be yet another of the slew of celebrities/celebrity spawn that attended CPS, such as Scarlett Johansson, Christina Ricci, Ally Hilfiger, Mischa Barton and Christopher Walken.

This little chick has been in the spotlight for so long, it's hard to believe she's only going to be thirteen this year.

Is it me, or do celebrity children seem to grow up faster and faster every year?

What a knockout.

I hope she doesn't develop her mother's guns. Or her bizarre sexual appetite. Or her bad acting skills in bomb movies.

Scary, scary Madge.

Nevertheless, good luck, Lourdes!

I May Gouge My Eyes Out With a Shoehorn.

2009-01-14T13:14:00.000-08:00

I... I don't even know what to say about this picture. Can someone, please, tell me what she's doing? Does anyone really have a legitimate excuse for her crotch-picking??

This picture is worth a thousand words.

It'd probably be worth more if she were able to explain this away.

Oh, bubby, Paris... Please.

The oceans are infested with unknown and unexplainable creatures as it is.

We don't need your deep-sea breed added to it!

The Case of the Disappearing Personality

2009-01-14T10:25:00.000-08:00

Carrie Underwood, erm, I mean, Taylor Swift, will be guest-starring on an upcoming episode of CSI, the date yet to be determined.

I don't hate the girl. I think she's pretty, and she's got great hair. Her album sales for 2008 set records of all sorts.

But does she have to be so... Soberly boring? CSI? What's next, "Knight Rider"? Co-host of "Howie Do It"?

Oh, boy.

Come on, Taylor. I want drunken photos. I want leaked YouTube videos of you shredding photos of your favorite Jonas with your pointy teeth.

The new friendship with Demi Lovato. I get it, I get it. Birds of a feather and all that, but why not Lindsay? Or better yet, Paris! You want publicity, that's the way to go, sweetie!

We've Missed You, Jennifer!

2009-01-14T10:10:00.000-08:00

Jennifer Hudson returns to the spotlight after her horrific tragedy this past year in a performance of the Star-Spangled Banner at the Super Bowl this year, in Florida.

I have to give it to Jennifer. She came from some pretty mean streets and is just a complete and utter lady. Not to mention sooooo talented. The grace she has handled herself with over the past few years is commendable, especially in light of the tragic events of a few months ago.

I remember hearing the news about the killings and that waste of skin and teeth, William Balfour. I was so completely horrified, I couldn't think about anything for days. I can't even imagine the pain she must have gone through, and I'm sure still is. I hope the piece of shit rots in jail (or in hell) for all eternity.

On a side note, Jennifer is nominated for four Grammys this year and will hopefully be a shoe-in.

Anyway, Jennifer. We're all rooting for you, and wish you the best, because girl, you deserve it.

Katie Holmes and the Obligatory Vacant Look.

2009-01-14T08:43:00.001-08:00

Katie Holmes looks amazing in the new campaign for Miu Miu. Unfortunately, she still has that bedraggled, where-have-I-been-for-the-past-few-years look on her face, which can only be attributed to the insanity that is Tom Cruise.

Katie joins the ranks of Kirsten Dunst and Vanessa Paradis as the current face of Miu Miu, and I can honestly say this is the best she's looked in months.

She even looks better than she did during the filming of "Teaching Mrs. Tingle", which I still have on a recorded VHS tape somewhere in the bowels of my attic.

When, oh, when, is she going to go back to the sweetness that was Joey Potter?

Can't she see that Scientology ages?

And of course, any respectable Scientology husband drains his wife's youth and good looks. It's the vampire effect. He's looking better now than he did in his Top Gun days.

Joey, I miss you.

(Cue Paula Cole's "I Don't Wanna Wait")

Briefly Interrupting Celebrity Coverage To Speak About Public Urination.

2009-01-14T07:47:00.000-08:00

My mother came over my house last night to watch the Premiere Episode of American Idol (and I capitalize that because it's an iconic event) and we were on my porch, smoking a cigarette on commercial break, because I don't smoke in my house. Ever notice that you can tell if someone is an in-home smoker just by coming into their house? It's a hang-y, acrid, dirty smell. And I don't like it. It stinks to high heaven.

Anyway. Public Urination.

As we were on the porch last night, the minus four degree weather numbing my sensory capacities, I squatted slightly, and asked my mother...

"What would you do if I just stood here and wet myself. I mean, completely just peed, right through my jammie pants and onto the porch? We're talking big, wet spot on the crotch of my pants, pee."

Well, it got a funny reaction, and we laughed about it for a few minutes, but even funnier, I was telling people about this at work today. Fortunately, they know how insane I am and how random the things are that just unwillingly erupt from me at times. Needless to say, they didn't even bat an eye when I told them of my weird proposition last night.

Regardless. We got to talking about how much we'd have to be paid to pee pants in public. (Say that five times fast...) Talking about how it might be harder to pee on command, especially in public, and especially for ladies. I think men might have an easier time of it, because, well... Just envision it.

After much discussion, I think I've come to the conclusion that I'd probably do it for free.

Just because to me, in my warped sense of humor, it'd be worth the laugh.

Gisele and Tom Actually Are Engaged This Time.

2009-01-14T07:11:00.000-08:00

Even out on the town, looking like ass, these two look amazing.

If I were to walk around town looking like this (well, my non-celebrity, professionally un-made up version, anyway), the townsfolk would probably stone me to death.

I couldn't imagine what children by these two individuals would look like. Shiloh Jolie-Pitt would definitely have some competition as the cutest celebrity child, so far.

Anyway, contrary to prior reports, Gisele and Tom actually are engaged this time. I don't yet know the details behind the sports stars' proposal, but it can't be nearly as romantic as what was once initially reported, that he had popped the question on a chartered plane with her parents aboard and candles burning everywhere.

However, doesn't that seem kind of unsafe to you, anyway? An FAA violation, or something? Candles burning on a plane? That's about a safe as... Well... Sorry about this, but... Snakes on a plane, haha.

Did anyone actually see that movie?

And doesn't Tom kind of resemble Leo in this picture?

I guess Gisele has a thing for guys with butt-chins.

To Whomever Actually Cares That Lisa Marie Presley Procreated With Someone Other than Michael Jackjob.

2009-01-14T06:09:00.000-08:00

Lisa Marie Presley finally released those much-sought after pics of her twins to People magazine this week.

Let me first say - no disrespect to those darling babies, because I just love babies and they can't help who they're born to - Lisa Marie is just weird. Come on. Anyone who dates Michael Jackson... Has got to have some serious, deep-seated issues. Elvis is still seizing in his grave over that one. Hell, anyone who's friends with that man (erm, hackmacaulayculkincoughgaghack) has their own "special" set of problems.

This woman... Oy. I don't even know where to begin. She's one of those mysteries of the universe, that if you try to understand deeper than most try, it'll create a rip in the time/space continuum and suck half of us out into another galaxy. Or something.

Anyway. Here they are; the kids are adorable.

And also. What is with her chin? Is this the new Hollywood trend? The saggy-double-Britney/Jessica-chin? Because if this is the new fad, I am quite sorry, but I'm voting myself off this island.

The Joys of Post-Wisdom Tooth Extraction

2009-01-12T12:54:00.000-08:00

As per a previous blog post earlier this week, you all know that I had my wisdom teeth taken out.

To be quite honest, it really wasn't as bad as I hyped it up to be. And that's saying a lot, coming from me, because I'm a pretty big baby when it comes to pain and recovery and all of that jazz. I'm not sure if it's because I truly do have a low threshold for pain, or if it's just because I like to complain and have people dote on me. Honestly, I think it might be the latter, but I'm off on a tangent.

They prescribed me about sixteen dozen pills (well, no, not really, more like three), an antibiotic (which really sucks because we all know how antibiotics kind of cancel the effect of my birth control, so I suppose I'll either have to go with no sex - no way - or just be super careful, because we all know what happened last time!), a high-powered Motrin, and the obligatory opiate-based painkiller. Percocet, to be specific.

I, for one, have never been a big fan of pain pills, because I find they, well, make me want to vomit for two and a half weeks. I had Vicodin prescribed to me a long time ago when I broke my ankle and I had sick about twenty minutes after I took it, so I was never really into taking anything for pain, headache or worse.

Anyway, so I've been taking the Percocet and contrary to other people's opinions and reactions of how drowsy and tired they make them; they, on the other hand, affect me like speed, I swear. I could take these pills and run a marathon. Or at least have the energy to watch someone run a marathon, at any rate.

It's almost like I've drank fifteen shots of espresso, all in one gulp. It's really kind of odd.

Anyway.

The moral of the story: If you have your wisdom teeth pulled, go for the Percocet.

Let me know if it turns you into the most motivated, focused person on the planet.

Bruises, Bleach and the Sixth Sense.

2009-01-11T10:19:00.000-08:00

So, I guess this weekend was a weekend of mass-decision of hair dyeing.

Let me go back to yesterday afternoon's events and tell you what brought me to this cacophony.

I went to the grocery store, to get, you know, the basic necessities, because we were in the midst of a gigantic snowstorm, and somehow I got sidetracked into the drug store down the road. I walked in, to see what I could feasibly blow money on and saw some celebrity magazines, where I saw Eva Mendes, who I think is gorgeous. I would kill to have a face like that.

However, God was not so gracious to me and I'm stuck with what I have, unless I can somehow come up with a cosmetic surgery fund ASAP.

I digress.

You know how there's just a zillion mirrors in drugstores, under all that harsh lighting, that makes you want to buy all of their beauty products, because, dammit, you're just so blah and frightening.

I wandered to the hairdyeing aisle and decided that I'd like to go from my blah brown to a darker brown and maybe put some highlights in, too, just because I was feeling that low. I chose colors and proceeded to the checkout, where a sixty year old woman (who looked better than me, I might add) scanned my goodies. I flashed her my most knowing wink as I walked out of the store, as if to say 'Yep, you'll see me in a few days and I'm gonna be hot'.

So I pull into my driveway, step out of the car and whock... There I am on the ground.

Goddamned snow. Let it be said that I have this massive bruise on my inner leg that I can only attribute to this fall, but you never know. Mystery bruises are so intriguing.

Later on that night, I get all of my ingredients out, knowing that my hair is going to hate me for the displeasure I've caused it, but excited nonetheless because I'm going to look good.

Minutes go by, hours go by and I'm so excited about finishing this, that I'm wriggling like a little puppy. I just cannot wait to take this out of my hair and see the final result. I go into my tiny-closet-sized bedroom, wash it out and dry it without looking in the mirror, which is always a bad idea, because I end up looking like some reject from a Guns 'n Roses fan club. Regardless.

I look in the mirror and see that I'm... Well.

Different.

My hair (which was once a sunny-ish brown), is now practically black with brown and I have several, several golden streaks right in the front of my head. Very... Art Nouveau, I guess. Very contemporary. I shrug and mess with it a bit more and go to bed.

This morning, I check myself out in the mirror and it's like... Holy hell. Art Nouveau? No, more like... Skunk Nouveau a la Sarah. But it's actually not that bad. I tell myself that I'm just going to have to wear more red, because red is definitely the color for this hair. So I paint my nails red. I put on my fleece Dior robe and begin strutting around the house, checking myself out in every reflective surface I can find. I pour myself coffee in my (what else, red) mug.

Yes, Art Nouveau. I think. All of this red seems to be offsetting the garishness. I'll just need to surround myself in red for the next few weeks while I get used to it.

Either that, or the red's going to trigger some kind of murderous breakdown in me, like it did in the Sixth Sense.

Red, red, red.

Irresponsible People Have Got This One Right.

2009-01-09T19:00:00.000-08:00

So, one thing, among many, that makes me want to punch myself in the face, is a person who drives while inebriated.

I think the only thing dumber than that, is for the said idiots to practically publicize the fact that they're wasted by driving in braille!

I don't know. Maybe these people are just genuinely shitty drivers, I could be biased. Maybe they need dual mirrors. Maybe their anti-convulsive drugs wear off at just the most inconvenient times. Maybe this douche nozzle tonight was not drunk, but just liked weaving in and out of traffic erratically, for the sport of it.

Why is it that I can get pulled over for swerving to avoid one of the many, many potholes in Northeastern Pennsylvania (not only the armpit of the US, but the pothole capital, to boot), and be threatened with a breathalyzer, but the moron who's doing a horizontal line dance with their car gets away scot-free?

I don't get it.

And it disappoints me.

These people are going to be the ones that run someone's dog over, or takes out a handcrafted mailbox, or worse yet, kills a pedestrian... but they waste their time pulling citizens (like me) over, who simply want to avoid purchasing a new tire, balancing and alignment, all in one shot.

Guys.

If you're drunk, call a cab. Or pass out in the loo.

Or at least drive in front of me.

Diversified my ASS.

2009-01-08T09:37:00.001-08:00

What I want to know...

Is how.
the fuck.
do you run a successful business.
without having kept track of the employees that have worked there - not twenty years ago - but a mere eight.

Isn't that something that the government, or at least the IRS (for tax-purposes, of course) requires business to keep track of? Even if they don't physically have that shit in their computer, do they not have (god forbid: obsolete) paper files?

I just spent the last twenty minutes on the telephone with some supreme idiot at a company I used to work for (she, who, unbelievably enough, remembered me), that couldn't tell me my dates of employment. And claimed that they don't keep (and never did?) paper files of this particular information.

I advised her that I needed this information, not for my own personal victory of having survived that hellhole; but for government registration purposes for a licensing exam I have to soon take.

She couldn't help me.

Am I surprised?

Quite the contrary.

The wisdom of... Teeth.

2009-01-08T07:04:00.000-08:00

So, the day before yesterday, I found myself in a dentist's chair, my teeth awaiting the fate that is singular only to wisdom teeth.

I'm sitting in this chair, thinking of all the things that could go wrong. I'm going over emergency evacuation plans in my head, the stop-drop-and-roll method, cardio-pulmonary resuscitation, you name it, I'm agonizing over it.

Needless to say, I'm being put to sleep for this procedure. The attendant came in and slapped EKG monitors to both arms, a blood-pressure cuff on one and a finger-pulse-taker thing on the other. At this point, I'm positively blue with anxiety.

At this point, I'm actually envisioning myself disconnecting all of the hardware they have me hooked up to and just taking off.

At long last, the Oral Surgeon enters the room. He is a tall, intimidating gentleman, with a loud, booming voice. Asking me asinine questions that I just want to bark at, telling him to shut up, doesn't he realize what I'm going through??

He places a mask over my face, telling me to breathe in, as 'this' will calm me. I wasn't aware that I had signed up for 'this', this mask. A few minutes in, and I feel almost like I'm tripping. And it's been years since I've felt that way. I start to (horror of all horrors) giggle uncontrollably and ask the surgeon what the hell this is that he's got me aspirating, and he answers 'Nitrous Oxide'.

Stoned explained.

I really must have been exhibiting signs of mutiny if they're drugging me before they drug me.

Anyway, he proceeds to hook me up to an IV at this point, but I could care less. I'm floating, I'm flying, I'm positively fucking zooming around this tiny, antiseptic-smelling room and I couldn't care less that he's sticking a hose into mein vein. He tells me that I should feel 'sleepy' in a few moments. And I do. So much that it's the last thing I remember happening, so much that I could care less that this horrible man is about to stick something long and silver halfway down my throat to extract these things they call 'wisdom teeth' from the back of my head.

Evidently I rambled on and on through the entire procedure. Lord knows what I went on about. I wouldn't remember. Let's hope I didn't spill any incriminating secrets or government protocol this time.

You all know what a big mouth I have.

Unfortunately, it wasn't big enough to house two additional teeth, and ones that I really did enjoy where they were.