NothingSacred

23 Adult Truths

I stole this from a friend's facebook page, but felt it should be shared widely. I realize my only readers on here are already my fb friends so I could've shared it that way, but I do not understand how the people at fb decide to show you some people's stuff and completely ignore other friends. Frankly, I don't know which ones of you are unlucky enough to not be getting my feed... I know you wouldn't intentionally ignore me, right?! 

Anyway, this made me giggle and also made me feel somehow less lonely in the world. Especially #s 3, 4 & 8. 

I encourage you to add your truths to this list by leaving comments. 

Now I'm off to tackle this filthy studio. The line must be drawn sometwhere and I have reached the breaking point on workspace detritus.

 

 

1. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
...
... 3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font. ... ...

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind-of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection ...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Light than Kay.

7. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

22. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey -but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

23. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.

Cougar Snacks

Warning: This post will bore men. You've been warned. Come back in a couple days for something for everyone.

Second: Sorry about that music-- it's from that silly "trim style" commercial I embedded in a post down below without knowing how to make the playing of the video optional. My apologies. Maybe when I find some extra time I'll learn how to properly embed video. Yeah, extra time. That'll happen. Oh, and what's your trim style again? I'm rocking mini-strip myself. I shaped all the plants in my entry courtyard identically to really advertise my preferred bush shape. But I digress.

So I'm feeling quite conflicted since I finally got off my arse and set up that Etsy site (if you haven't been yet, shame on you: nothingsacredbynic) and have found, guess what? No one is buying jewelry in this economy. Weird!  I've been stewing about it by relentlessly prowling facebook and other colossal time wasters.  And since I can't seem to find a single buyer online I've convinced myself I need to host my own jewelry party in the hopes that once someone is able to touch the wares they won't be able to live without them. So that has sort of spurred me on to get cracking making inventory for my hopefully-not-too-distant-future party. And the good news is that I'm actually making jewelry again! The bad news? I've been woefully neglecting writing anything or posting anything new to the blog. You see my consternation. 

I look back on all the time I wasted, before I had kids. When I could sit for hours on end and do absolutely nothing. I'm pretty sure one college summer I laid on my apartment floor for thirteen hours straight just staring at the ceiling waiting for something interesting to present itself to me (no a/c, it was hot as scotch bonnets in your Underroos, anything above 30 inches off the floor was like trying to breath in a kiln). Now, of course, I want to be always producing something and find I have not near enough time to do everything I want. I already neglect my kids enough, and really, would it matter if I had that extra thirty minutes a day I use to warm up some slop for dinner? In my heart of hearts I think, Yes. Yes, it would make all the difference in the world if those kids weren't monopolizing that precious half an hour by requiring being fed.  Selfish of them, really.

Anyway, I do feel bad for not being here, so I thought I'd do a fun little vapid post today. Perhaps I was inspired by TOM's new issue of Maxim (yeah, I always thought I'd marry a guy who subscribed to The Economist, but alas, car and hot chick rags litter my bathroom floor). Trumpeting the Hottest 100 Women Ever (bold claim, my testosterone-addled friends) it made me extremely wistful for the days of Tiger Beat. Mixed undoubtedly with my obsessive facebooking that keeps sucking me into "Top 5" lists of favorite cereals and blow job positions, all I can think up now are imaginary "Top 5" lists. 

So I thought it might be fun to throw up my Top 5 Cougar Snacks after spending FAR too long figuring out my Top 5 Favorite Actors. This list is different. By definition, Snacks cannot be based on substance. They are Cheetos and DIng-Dongs. Therefore this list is not at all based on acting ability. In fact, true acting ability may hurt a candidate for this acclaimed title. 

Following is a list of guys way too young for me to ever hold a conversation with, but hot enough to make me sit through horrible rubbish of film in the hopes of a shirtless scene. I warn you, it will NOT include that namby-pamby stink-bomb who played Edward Cullen in Twilight because for the life of me I can't figure out what's so damn attractive about him. His head is the size of Mercury and it looks like he gave up washing his hair for Lent and then didn't bother to start back up again come Easter. It will not include Zac Efron either, because while I can't deny he is pretty, one of the preconditions of the list is that the guys must at least pass for straight, even if they are total pole-smokers. Sorry, a girl has to have standards.

These guys all made the list by giving me a Brad Pitt-in-Thelma & Louise-pause. You know what I'm talking about. Where you saw him and were like, "What the fuck!?! Is he real? Who is that dreamboat?" (You didn't know I used words like dreamboat, didja?! I do. I learned it when I met TOM.) And then you sat extra long through the credits to figure out his name. 

Feel free to argue or add in your favorites (just click on the "comments" button-- I know you have it in you).

#1 Cougar Snack: Cam Gigandet 

Yeah, if you are a Twilight dork you'll know his as the "bad" vampire, but if you are just a plain dork like me, you'll recognize him from the crappy movie Never Back Down where he blessedly has no need for a shirt for most of his scenes and makes one wonder if he actually has more ab muscles than is normally found in human anatomy. Secondly, his name alone sorta makes me think he has an extra special treat in his pants. 

Cougar Snack #2: Taylor Kitsch

While he's currently starring in the crapfest movie Wolverine, he's better showcased (Ie likely to be without shirt) on the tv show Friday Night Lights. 

He's got a real sweet southern drawl, and sorta makes you wish you were back in high school. 

 Sadly, that is where my Top 5 list ends. I know. I could only find TWO hot guys in Hollywood that don't need to rely on anything other than their looks. Sooo sad when there are clearly so many actresses who make a living off only being hot. All the rest of the guys I evaluated only get hot when I factor in their personalities. That is so fucking sad. Maybe it says something about females? Or maybe just me? Maybe I'm a lame cougar. Maybe I'm not quite old enough to be an official cougar yet? 

I pondered throwing JT on the list, but let's face it, he's really not THAT cute in the face. His bringing sexy back has a lot to do with how well he delivers a line on SNL. James Franco could've made the list, but then he went and made me love him in Pineapple Express. Shia LaBeouf and Emile Hirsch were briefly considered for the hunt, but let's face it, they both can act (Transformers and Speed Racer notwithstanding). I'd like to add in Josh Duhamel-- he's certainly got the dumb down, but isn't he older than I am?!? That hardly makes him cougar bait unless the cougar you are talking about is roughly the age of Ann Margaret.

Lookit, I need some help here. Any suggestions? Can anyone tip me off to some completely vapid boy meat?

Stay tuned for the follow-up list Top 5 Oddly Attractive Cougar Meals, starring those oddball guys you just can't figure out why you like. Which might be considerably longer, and certainly funnier than this lame list was. I better just get back to the jewelry making.

Mariah Carey-- diva, poet, giant

Edna and I have a long-running disagreement about Mariah Carey.  She steadfastly defends her, while I cannot abide.  No, I'm not talking about Mariah's glass-shattering vocal range or any of that-- I'll give it to her, she can certainly sing.  I speak, instead, of how fucking gigantor she is, and yet simultaneously, how childlike. First thing's first.  Her size.

 There's no getting around it, Edna, Mariah Carey is akin to a wildebeest in stature.  Now listen, before you start getting all crazy on me-- I have nothing against tall women or rotund women! In fact, nearly every woman on the planet is taller than me as I'm only one inch taller than what Edna would probably consider midget (and thus horrifying and wrong). I have friends of ALL shapes, and we all beat ourselves merilessly for not looking more like Gisele and Angelina. 

 So I know the feeling of being outside the norm of quote-unquote desirability! In fact, I have a similar shape to Ms. Carey (not much waist to speak of, broad shoulders, etc-- I have yet to invest in new funbags, but my time's a' comin'!). That said, I also know that my figure dictates certain things.  IE, I cannot wear big Kentucky Derby hats.  I cannot tote around the au courant giant purses that seem to be everywhere this season.  If I did I would like like a pack mule. Fine.  I love big flow-y hippie shirts. However, they make me look like Violet Beauregard after the gum incident and so I avoid wearing them. There are certain things that my body has not cooperated with my mental images on.  Here's the problem with Mariah Carey.  It is not that she is gigundous-- and don't get me wrong, Mariah isn't FAT, she is just what one of my southern friends pig-headedly refers to himself as: "big-boned". He usually says this through a mouthful of hog, barbeque sauce running down his chins as he tries to keep his beer bottle from slipping through his greasy fingers-- it is that she shoves herself into clothes four sizes too small and 20 years too young! 

  She really is big-boned.  Have you SEEN the size of those fucking meathooks?!? How could you not? She flaunts them around like Porterhouses during every performance-- jazz-hands a flappin', waving her yardstick fingers at us. Unfortunately for her, she inadvertently calls attention to her overall gigundousness by holding them up in front of her face (only highlighting how fucking big her head is, although in comparison to the linebacker shoulders she's got, her head occasionally looks a little pinnish, particularly if she's slicked all her hair back.I know the feeling, trust me. I'm sporting that oh-so-sexy look right now).  

Now, I would be a real son-of-a-bitch if her size alone was what frustrated me to such a degree that I occasionally catch myself wishing harm to her. [Not BAD harm. Not stalker harm or anything. Little harm. Hemmorhoids. Canker sores. Alopecia. You know, that sort of thing.]

 My issue isn't her size, per se. It is how she uses it, or even how she misuses it.  Tall women are POWERFUL! They shouldn't act all weak and delicate.  And it pisses me off she tries to hide behind some little girl bullshit! Amazonian women should be strong and unapologetic. Mariah Carey acts like she just stepped off a school yard at recess whenever she's in front of a camera and it really irritates! Not to mention how she completely mistreats the public-at-large by wearing ridiculously small clothes!

There is no excuse for it. She's a gazillionaire. I've seen her place on Cribs! She gets free merch all over the place and yet only seems to keep the stuff that comes from Gymboree and Baby Gap! She's not fooling anyone into thinking she's not a giantess just because she refuses to shop outside the Missy section! If there is one celebrity who needs an emergency "very-special-episode" of What Not to Wear it is Mariah Carey. But, I think her love of miniature clothing is indicative of a larger problem. A dirty little secret the media industry has been keeping from us.  

Mariah Carey is fundamentally retarded. She has been developmentally stilted and reveals it in her weird-o rooms full of Hello Kitty shit and her love for tiny t-shirts and denim belts she thinks are skirts.  She acts like a little kid, and frankly, I feel sorry for that poor sucker who married her. You know he was thinking he was gonna be living the high life, rolling on the gravy train, eating his Count Chocula with a silver spoon, and all those other cliches.  He's a gold-digger, clear as Saran Wrap. And yet, I feel sorry for him now. I bet he wakes up scared to death about the crazy woman sleeping next to him in bed, wondering how he got there, wondering if she's gonna make him play My Little Ponies again today, or if she's going to roll over on him and squish him. 

As further evidence of Ms. Mariah Carey's undeniable, certifiable juvenile nature, I would like to present the following to you. It was the whole reason I started writing this today and then got a little carried away. Sorry.  All I wanted to share with you is this, from Mariah's book of poems, a few lines from her poignant poem, "The Unicorn".

I love my unicorn, he knows

  I am true,

My troubles go poof, my unicorn

  named Boo

 

The Wentz Wince

First things first, I need to admit my bias right up front.  I don’t like Pete Wentz. I never have. He needs his ass kicked. Hard. If you don’t know who he is, don’t worry, you aren’t missing much.  Then again, you need to get out more, because it is hard to miss his over-exposed, kohl-rimmed eyed, tight-jeaned self. He’s from this pseudo-punky pop band, Fall Out Boy .  From what I can tell he is the Gen Y equivalent to Prince, or the generation before mine’s David Bowie. Minus the talent. 

At any rate, as most of you know, I like my men a little more alpha and a little less prancy. Certainly less eye-lined. And I swear to god, Pete Wentz needs to be taken out behind the woodshed for the cultural abomination of making teen boys think they will get laid (and in some cases I’m sure it works-- barf) for wearing fucking girl jeans.  You know what I’m talking about. You’ve seen the little fuckers at the mall, charging up the ‘rents credit cards, mincing about in their tapered, tight little denims,  affecting a sort of wanna-be pansy-punk emo pout that really begs for a butt-whoopin’.  When you see these little twerps, you can thank Pete Wentz.    Oh, and did I mention he’s practically a midget? And that alone keeps him on my gal Edna’s shit list (Eek! Midgets!). Basically he’s an Olsen twin with a bottle of black hair dye and testicles. Well, at least one. He's a breathing Bratz Doll, and now he has begat. God help us. 

It is for these reasons that I harbor a blood-lusty grudge against him and firmly believe he deserves a world-class ass-kickin. So imagine my happiness to hear that Jessica Simpson’s little sister, who used to be the ugly one ‘til a modern medical miracle landed squarely on her face, shat out a little Wentz for him last Thursday.  Let his ass-kicking commence! (He soooo doesn’t know what he’s in for! Gleeful excitement peppered with schadenfreude. )  

I’m sure you can imagine how quickly I clicked on the headline when I spied it on my iPhone thursday, and how hard it was to wait for the page to download so I could see the BIG news-- what did they name it?!!?

Bronx Mowgli Wentz.  A boy. 

Where, o where, do I begin?  How about here...

Nice try, you two.  But methinks you see yourself as a bit more than you are with this appellation, as evidenced by your clear mimicry of not one, but TWO  Hollywood “power couples”! Shame on you! This is the nomenclatural equivalent to yelling at a doorman, “Do you know who I am?!”  Bronx!  Are you kidding me? Desperate attempt to be super-original while clearly ripping off the ideas of others, this name screams “My parents were trying too hard”.  

 First off, The Beckhams named their first son Brooklyn, like NINE years ago.  The “named after a New York borough” meme? Soooo 2000.  Secondly, taking a tip from the Brangelinas by going with the masculine name ending in X, huh? Not cool. Not cool at all. Mr. and Mrs. Wentz should recognize that there are a finite number of such names available to the super-couple AND that the couple is clearly going to keep adopting and reproducing until their family resembles a large traveling band of gypsies. Thus, it is a real possibility that they’ll run out of names for their sons. Poaching one is soooo not ok.

Thirdly, just from a sound perspective, this name is horrible! Bronx Wentz? Ouch! Did these two monkeyfucks even bother saying it aloud before they condemned their firstborn with it? Aren’t they musicians? Shouldn’t they have chosen something at least a little lyrical? Something that rolls off the tongue rather than crashes off the teeth? Saying this name aloud sounds like a cross between a sneeze and a cat vomiting. A sound this gutteral is usually confused for a French-accented Yiddish curse. 

Fourthly. Wait, is that a word? Quarterly? (Whatever, you can see this ill-conceived choice’s folly goes on and on) Mowgli? Are you fucking joking? Don’t you think Pete’s parents had to leave the room to roll their eyes and snicker the first time they heard that? (God knows her pervy Dad was eye-ing up Ashlee's engorging mams and thinking dirty thoughts and thusly probably dumbly nodded upon hearing his new grandson's moniker, not listening, just jockeying for a better eyeful of swollen teat.) HAHAHA! When I first read it my mind immediately pictured Gremlins’ Gizmo swaddled tightly in hospital issue blankie, giant eyes just primed for daddy’s first lesson in  properly smudging “guy-liner” (I swear to god, that’s what he calls it. More reason to kick his ass).

But no. That’s not a Mowgli... that’s a Mogwai... my mind reached... what the fuck... how do I know it... it is something cutesy and child-related... oh! That’s it! The Jungle Book! The little brat from the Jungle Book is named Mowgli. Really?  No. Really?? Did you learn nothing from those LopAnthony twins being named after cartoon characters?!?

A quick side note, Amy Poehler and Will Arnett recently had their first baby.  A boy. Named Archie. Which any other couple in the world would earn a foul rebuke from me if they’d done that to their kid, but really, for this knee-slappin' duo, this choice is gold. Archie Arnett. All he does is crap and cry and already he’s hilarious. Accolades and hand-flourishy bows are all I can offer on it... and can’t help but wonder if they named him after Bunker or Jughead’s pal, or both. Or maybe even John Cleese’s character in a Fish Called Wanda.  Either way. LOOOOOVE it.

Back to the tool chest. Pete and Ashlee... you poor, sad little twits. The only thing I can think is that Fall Out Boy is doing a cover of "I Wanna Be Like You" , and Pete wanted the song to have extra significance or something. Whatever. This baby name gets one star out of five, for failing on both originality AND aural loveliness.  Ick. 

Course, that hasn’t stopped me from wishing the baby well (and by that I mean sending positive vibes that he didn’t get mommy’s REAL nose) and fed-exing out a Baby’s First MAC eyeliner.  Now, little Bronx, get to work kickin’ your dad’s ass. He totally deserves it.

On My Wishlist

Ok, so we'd been drinking.  A lot. At least for me, an out-of-practice mama.  But that's not to say that alcohol-induced ideas are by definition bad ones, especially since this one is sooo, sooo good.  

After pulling off my first successful surprise party (for TOM's graduation-- yahoo!), a few of us couples brought the party back to the casa.  We were sitting in my studio, which, not to sound stuck up or anything, is a crafty girl' paradise (and probably why I find it the most peaceful spot around... theboys don't naturally congregate there).  Anyway, could've been my friend May, maybe it was Natalie... (definitely got approval from Claudia) one of them, was looking longingly around at the stacks of fabric ant he sewing machine, the bags of beads and spools of wire, the scissors, the tools, the computer with the fancy printer... and we had the Ipod going with music that speaks to ladies of a certain age (re: not that damn old!).. and one of them suggested it: Studio time.  Just ladies. Doing whatever they want (I have enough unused supplies here to start my own art school). A bottle of wine or two. Some nice cheese maybe. Some chocolate. A might away from the kids to work on whatever project you want to do. Brilliant. A modern day sewing circle.  

I'm in ladies. I'm in.  All I gotta do is clean up some of this mess, and find a babysitter, and it is crafty heaven.   Oh, yeah. I'm feelin' it. 'Course, after he wine wears off and I realize how much organizing I'll have to do to have you all over... well, that just might be more than I'd thought it would be.  Maybe I should post before an dafter pics of that project! Now THERE would be real change! 

Ask and you shall receive, one more celebubabe

Ok, so just yesterday I was wondering when Gwen Stefani was going to pop, and lo and behold, Zuma Nesta Rock was announced this morning! That's a boy.  Zuma Nesta Rock. Wow, where do I begin with a name like that? 

Doesn't seem to necessarily "go" with Kingston, but maybe they'll call him "Rock" so they both have a music vibe to them? I mean, both the first two names end in A, so they are a touch feminine, not that boy's names ending in A are necessarily girls names... but I did have to verify that it was a male child since the name itself would have suggested otherwise. Zuma for a girl I can see, what with it nearly being Uma, and having that fabu Brangleina last-letter-of-alphabet addition (Angie seems to favor those, I think... lots of Xs and a Z and now a V). I'm frankly still trying to get my brain around little baby Zuma, but perhaps I'm just too distracted by the similarity to "Zoomba", the new "latin dance-inspired" fitness class offered at my local Y (which no matter how many times they announce its arrival in pump class, still sounds crazy dorky to me). 

Or, it could be that she and Gavin felt like they really needed to fit in with music legend Frank Zappa on the fucked-up naming tip, or to really show that sassy little upstart Shannyn Sossamon with her son Audio Science (still my vote for worst name ever) that she ain't got nothin' on them! At any rate, thought it was worth noting that Gwen did, in fact, give birth this summer after what seems like the longest pregnancy ever.  Next up? Ben and Jen's new little bun.  I'm thinking boy for them. Any bets?

Also, still so don't care about Jessica Alba's baby or her getting pics in star rags, won't care if Eva Longoria is preggers, and is anyone else suspicious as to why JLo's still hiding her little accountants, I mean, Anthonys? They've gotta be looking better by now!

Update: Just read on perezzers that Nesta was Bob Marley's middle name, too. So there's that Jamaican connection to link the new one up with his big bro!  (People like theme naming. They really do. Which is not necessarily bad.)

Suck it, Bi-atches

I have just gotten hold of the WonderTwins People magazine. It is in my sweaty grasp as we speak (hard to type). I will be unavailable for comment until further notice as I must give my full attention to the breaking photographic news that are Viv and Knox. Later!

Update: I'm calling the dentist for emergency fillings tomorrow. Those little Jolie-Pitts (all of them) are so damn cute my teeth ache! And I gotta say, Angelina, chose about the prettiest little thing out of Africa in little Z-- she breaks my heart!! I can hardly stand waiting another couple months, but those twins will really fill out so we can admire them in a few more weeks. Now, they are pretty much newborns-- although clearly they're better than that J.Lo's twins. Damn! (God I hope little Emme Anthony is outgrowing her "balding accountant" stage!).

At any rate, with the amount of dental work we'll all have to have done as a result of their Wondertwin sweetness, I think the whole economy might get a little nudge from this pictorial extravaganza. Fuck Congress' economic stimulus package-- I think there may be some real effects from the Brangelina stimulus package. At least the People mag stock price should see a little bump-- I practically had to go to fisticuffs at WalMart to get my hands on a copy!!

And The World Just got Two Pitts Prettier...

Of course it didn’t escape my attention that Angelina popped out the WonderTwins over the weekend, and I must go on record with my whole-hearted approval of the name choices.

I love the name Vivienne, especially that spelling, and had hoped to name my own daughter that... alas, my daughter arrived with a little extra something and so we decided to call “her” Trey. (Sidenote: The Old Man was not as enthused about my love for Vivienne as it evidently reminded him of skanky old stripper he used to know, but clearly TOM was wrong in this instance.)

As for Knox, I am slightly partial to it as my cousin just named his kid this last year and I’m sorry, but its just cool. I notice they are going with the whole boy’s names ending in X theme, and can dig it, but do wonder how that will pan out if they continue to expand the menagerie-- which by all accounts they intend to. Las ti heard before Angie got knocked up she wanted to get a little African to match up with Zahara. So, clearly Max and Jax are out since they rhyme with Pax, and I think we can count out Fox, too. I guess the next one will be Rex or Lex or Dex or something. Frankly, I kind of like the idea of a little African named Tex. Or maybe Phoenix, Lennox, Felix or Hendrix.

I do anticipate trouble though, as the expansion continues, there are only so many X names to go with, and by my estimation Angelina is trying to outdo Mia Farrow with this whole giant adoptive/birthed clan thing (being that Angelina seems to be hell bent on superlative living-- most beautiful, most charitable, worst accent, most mother-y, etc). I think Angie’s inherent need to compete with everyone on earth and show them that she is better and more perfect in all ways will lead her to at least go for 15 to top Mia’s 14 kiddos. Although, it seems thus far Angie has learned the Farrow lesson of not bringing home any Asian girls as they will me-so-horny grow up and steal their adopted dads. The only husband stealer in Angie’s house is Angie, by God!

I do like that she’s given all her girls names that can be shortened into really cute little nicknames. Z, Shy, and Vivi will surely run the roost. And I’m sorry, but the whole female world owes Angelina a debt of gratitude for replicating a son for Mr. Pitt.

Either way you know I’m checking Perez obsessively to see when the first pics of those little monkeys breaks. I can hardly sleep in anticipation! I’m praying for the boy to be dark-haired like his mama.

I’d also like to go on record saying that the name Knox will sky-rocket in popularity, as it isn’t even on the top 1000 list for 2007 (most recent figures). Maddox went from non-existent in 2001 (when Angie brought that lucky little son-of-a-gun home with her) to #325 for the decade (adjusted for spelling variances), and all the way up to #198 for 2007 (again, adjusted for spelling). I’m willing to bet Knox will debut on the top 1000 list at around 500 by 2009, and keep its ascent for the next few years. Vivienne will surely also catch fire, as it is even more mainstream than Knox.
Personally, I like that the Jolie-Pitt clan chose actual names and not things/ideas, as the recent celebrity naming by Jessica Alba (Honor) and Nicole Kidman (Sunday Rose) sort of left me cold, although it is miles better than those retard choices the LopAnthony’s made. Matthew McConnaughey didn’t fuck it up too badly with Levi-- it seems appropriate for a guy who can’t seem to find a shirt to name his kid after pants-- but TOM pointed out he probably just should have gone with his favorite catchphrase-cum-brandname J.K. Livin’ to be true to himself. J.K. Livin’ McConnaughey has a bit of a ring.

On the upside: we still have a preggers Gwen Stefani to look forward to this summer. She’ll surely come up with something amusing.

Sad, sad, sad

I can't believe this. Sure, after being married to Carmen Electra (who was married to Dennis Rodman once, right? Ick.) I knew that Dave wasn't the world's deepest guy, or at least he didn't mind ladies that weren't exactly what I like to call, readers, but still. This? My esteem for this guy just plummeted.  I can only hope that he gave her the sexy eyes and pressed a finger to her big, overblown, Radiesse lips and whispered, "Shh... Let's not talk." Daisy's buzzsaw whine and her airy vapidity could really ruin a guys night-- especially a guy over 30, where he actually has some cock control! THis girl was so annoying even Bret Michaels dumped her! This is really so, so sad.

An Open Letter to Us Weekly

Dear Us,

            Today when I came home I found your note in the mail. The one that says “It’s not Over with Us…”. I feel that since we’ve had such a long relationship I probably should explain that it is, in fact, over with us. I’m sorry.  But we’re through.

            You know how close we’ve been.  You’ve always been there for me, well of course except issues 691, 599, and 657, which were evidently either lost in transit or stolen by that fucktard I call a postman. He couldn't keep his hands off anything with Andrew Firestone on it. Weird. Anyway, you’ve almost always been there for me, and really I might bwilling to keep trying at this except for the fact that you are at least two days late 75% of the time! It' slike you just don't care anymore. You just take me for granted. I just can’t do it anymore. Not with what else has been going on.

            You’ve changed, Us. And not just your “Weekly Buzz” section, which used to hip me to cool little treasures but now is obviously only an extension of your advertising space. (God, when did you become such a whore? Such a dirty, filthy whore).  I mean it, you’ve changed on a deeper level, and it is tearing us apart.

            I remember how it used to be.  I used to go straight from my mailbox to my couch with you and you’d wrap me in your sweet page-like arms for hours. We'd do it cover to cover.  Sometimes twice in one night. But now, I think you know it is different. And I think you know why.

       How am I supposed to get turned on by issue after issue with Heidi and Spencer on the cover? I mean, who the fuck are these people? I don't think I've ever once paid money to see them in anything. They don't even seem to lke each other and yet spend hours upon hours being photographed in cheesedick set-ups by your staff! What do they do, other than appear on your covers?

    And then I open you up and it is page after page of pseudo-stars trying on free clothes (that are outrageousey expensive considering how tacky 98% of it is!) and a shitload of publicist-approved stories. Blech! I come to you for something steamy, something dirty, something raw and all I get is this? This crap is what I get?! The only thing remotely working for you rght now is that whore Denie Richards! And would you stop with the lame-O bmp watches? Who gives a shit if half these people birth? The only ones we want to know about are Brangie's babies, how cute they are, and if Jen Aniston has tried to kill herself over the whole thing yet!

           I don’t understand where everything fell apart.

            I tried to hang on. I’ve given you chance after chance. But it seems you are only willing to toe the approved party line on PR-guy approved stories on Brangelina, on Madge’s doomed marriage, on how the hell Sandy Bullock can stay married to that cornholing shitball Jesse James, on exact measurements of how much Kate Hudson and those horrible little troll twins the Olsens threw up today, on Gwynnie’s obvious sociopathy. WTF?!You've stopped selling goosip and now you sell only propoganda. You try to get all clean-cut and respectable with real stars and yet you’ve sold your soul to Tori Spelling, Brody Jenner and someone called Lo Bosworth. WHHHYYYY?!?!?! Oh, sweet Lord, answer me why.

           I blame you for CREATING this faux-celebrity problem! You keep showing fucking reality-show people as if they are real celebrities.  What is going on? I swear, I’ve considered an intervention, but the truth is, I’m beyond apathy toward you at this point. 

          I should have known this would never work out with you from the way it started. You stole me away from People and I was so swept up in you I didn’t even notice that I'd just dropped that relationship. You made me a person I wouldn't want to be friends with. Our foundation was built on quicksand from the start.

            There’s something even more insidious though, something I can’t believe I’m going to even bring up because I know it will cut you so deep. I’m sorry to tell you,  you are becoming out-moded.  There! I said it! It’s out on the table now! You know it is true. You can’t compete in a TMZ and Perez Hilton world. The 24-hour gossip-news cycle is swallowing you whole! You are too slow. People can’t wait around a whole week (assuming you are even going to try to be on-time for Friday delivery) to see who’s popped out celebuspawn and who has dumped who and who has gained an unexpected 18 ounces.

             Sure, I see your half-hearted little attempts.  Your daily emails. God, talk about phoning it in! Are you even trying? They are pathetic! They aren’t scandalous in the least and they show more than ever that you have become nothing more than a corporate whore! I can’t stand it anymore. You, (sob) embarrass me!

            And let me tell you, Us. I understand you are a Democrat. It is something that I thought we agreed to disagree about and just not let those subjects muddy the light fantastic that was or shimmering love. But no. YOu just couldn't leave it along, could you? Here you go. Again.

         Another election year and you just CAN’T keep your nose out stuff that is clearly out of your depth! I mean, I know you are shallow, everyone does! That's what we love about you. But frankly, you degrade our relationship by trying to speak of things of which you know less than nil—you look a fool, Us! At the very least, try to look open-minded! When you interview the spouses of Candidates on their preferences of soda pop and facial peels and brothels, couldn’t you at least pretend to be impartial? Hello! When you ran that Candidate’s Spouse Comparison piece last month, there were THREE candidates still on the campaign trail, not two!

       I could maybe understand if you overlooked the former president as he may not want to answer questions about his favorite MTV star and who he thinks is the hottest bikini maker (wait a sec… yes he would). Anyway, I'd understand if you limited your "polling" to the ladies, but no! You include HIM and totally dis John McCain’s wife! You actually ran an article that compared possible first ladies/men and only included Hillary and Obama! It was the last straw for me, Us. You fucking disgust me now. I can hardly look at you without utter repulsion. I’m sure my disdain is written all over my face.

            You’ve probably felt the chill in the air here at the twilight of our relationship. I've stoppe emailing and calling to raise hell when my issues come late, or not at all. As I see the dwindling sunset of your arrivals, I can hardly work up the excitement to even read you on the day you come. Once or twice, I’ve even forgotten you under a stack of bills. Can you imagine it would ever end like that?

<

Your proverbial thrill is gone. It’s not like the old days. Remember the passion? How I would smack and claw anyone who dared touch you before I did. My heart would race at the mere sight of your cover. I would hide you away, my secret passion.  Oh, the fire! Well, you old bag, that flame fizzles now.

            And I should tell you, Us, I’ve been seeing someone else. Yes! That’s right! Perez has been keeping me satisfied for months now! Yes, I know he’s a liberal, but he’s never attempted to be something he’s not. He's never pretended to be impartial, he’s never portrayed himself as someone of substance. He is unashamedly frank and has an integrity to the fucksnot that he is. Well, baby, that’s got my motor hummin’ just fine! He’s not fake, not a user like you! You will say ANYTHING to sell a magazine, which normally is totally my type—but now, you only say BORING things! That’s right! You’re boring!

It’s over. Don’t contact me anymore. I won’t even look in your direction again.  At least not until you start putting REAL stars and REAL smut back you covers. And then, it will only be cheap, check-out stand trysts and airplane flight rendezvous. Nothing lasting, I can assure you. This long-term subscription commitment thing we have? It is done.  Farewell, Us.

Grudgingly,

                        Me

writer's note:

    The following is what I just emailed Us Weekly officially cancelling my subscription. I went ahead an attached the above letter, just for shits and giggles.

Dear Us,

            Please cancel my subscription immediately. While I was resigned to simply let my subscription run out and not renew (see letter below for reasons), once I got issue number 698 today (on time for a change, what a shock!), I had to take immediate action. Your obvious packaging and selling of the Obama brand and promotion of the created Michelle Obama “commodity” is both ham-handed and ridiculously biased. I am certain that since you “forgot” John McCain’s wife in a recent article comparing possible First Spouses, I shouldn’t wait around for next week’s edition in hopes that you will give next week’s cover to Cindy McCain.  If in fact you do, I will pick an issue up on the newsstand. Bluntly, Us, stick to entertainment. 

Sincerely,

            Your once-loyal reader, Xxxxxxx Xxxxx 

Smell Yo Dick

April 23, 2008 - Wednesday

Smell Yo Dick Current mood: jubilant http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzgGUW__9Jo I can't even express how much this made my fucking day.

OCSD

Current mood: dorky I swear if I ever got a survey with the Question: "What do you find Irresistible?" the universe would implode. I would uncontrollably shriek "Surveys!" or, more precisely,  I would type "surveys" whilst shaking and twitching and foaming and waiting for a giant science-y vacuum thing to destroy the cosmos.  I would then succumb to yet another round of what I have come to accept as my personal OCD. Or, more precisely, OCSD: Obsessive-Compulsive Survey Disorder, defined as the uncontrollable urge to share waaay too much about oneself with unsuspecting friends. Course, I am relieved to know that Kristen would be right there with me. (She is where I score all these surveys, after all, so I know she must have a little bit of OCSD herself.) Why I am so compelled to share the minutiae of myself with the whole world is just one more mysterious facet of my personality. What’s worse? I know I find MYSELF more fascinating than any of you find me! Maybe its my own little way of pretending like I’m cool enough to be interviewed for some badass magazine or something. Could I secretly want to be a rock star? Anyway, on with the show: What was the last TV show you watched? Malcolm in the Middle is on, but I’m not watching. The last show I sat down and actually WATCHED was Rock of Love 2, of course! What is your favorite magazine? Right now, I really love Self.  But I’m ALWAYS down for Us Weekly, and keep your filthy paws OFF IT!!! Do you have a routine when you take a shower? Face the water. Back to the water. Face the water. Back to the water. Cha-cha-cha. Wait for applause. Repeat. What is your biggest scar from? Tripping while sporting flip-flops when I was 5 and falling forehead-first into the corner of the wall. An OUTSIDE, pointy corner, Mrs. Hirai, not the corner of a room. Do you save/collect anything strange? Other than severed middle fingers? Not really. I guess you could count my Fortune Cookie Fortunes. Hotel stationery. Postcards. Little paper scraps found wherever… especially parking lots. And judging by my purse, expired coupons. What is the third link on your favorites list? engrish.com, right underneath ebates.com, the world’s greatest site. Have you ever been caught cheating? on what? Yes. But that was BEFORE. I don’t even cheat on crunch-counting anymore ("You’re only cheating yourself, Missy!"). As far as the "on what"… well, board games (sorry, Nicole. And Amy. And Cathy.), science homework (thanks, Kristen), Spanish tests (screw you, Senorita Cabeza!), Don Yarbrough in 9th grade, and I would’ve cheated on my taxes if I coulda figured out how. Who was the last person that made you laugh? The Old Man Name something that nobody knows about you. Are you kidding?? I blog, I can’t pass up a survey, I’m pretty much all out there. Here’s something.  In rock, paper, scissors, paper is my favorite. (see above collections for more insight on that.) Do you know your grandma/pa’s birthday? My Grandma Marti’s was Pearl Harbor Day.  My Grandpa Marti’s was Veteran’s Day. My Grammy Edwards’ was March 19th. I think my Grandma Pratt’s was in May. Maybe May Day, in fact. And my Grandad Edwards, I think he’s a Pisces, too. Have you ever fallen asleep in school? Uh, yeah.  Which is NOT as embarrassing as falling asleep in a board meeting, trust me. How many times have you seen Titanic? Countless.  Don’t they have a Titanic channel that just runs it on a continuous loop now?? And when the other channels get tired they just turn into the Endless Titanic channel? Right? How many questions did you miss on your permit test? Two. And one was about which lane you pull into when making a left hand turn if two are available. I chose the outside.  Oops.  I now choose the inside. Which state would you like to visit the most? Delaware.  Just fucking with you. I always forget Delaware exists. Or is that Maryland? Can’t remember. Anyway, I could do with a trip to New Mexico. I love how naturally fucking trippy it is there.  My yoga would definitely improve after a trip to New Mexico. Which country would you like to visit the most? Hmmmm…. Too many to choose from.  Right now I’m feeling Italy, but that just could be because it is dinnertime. Can you pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time? Only for like the past 28 ½ years! SHAWH! How many people do you have on your buddy list? Which buddy list? I have so many. Like I said, I’m craaaazy popular. Do you remember the name of the dog on Full House? IF I cheated, I’d put in Kristen’s cheaty answer… but I don’t so, NO. Full House blows anyway! Here’s a better one.  What’s the name of the dog from Hart to Hart? Freeway! HA! How many schools have you been to? (Pre-school and up) 8 (including 3 colleges, only one of which I graduated from) What is your biggest pet peeve? ohhh, so so many…. Let’s see… open-mouth chewing, double-dipping, loud-eating, loudly blowing ones nose at a restaurant… wow, these all seem to be food related… that can’t be all… hippies in Range Rovers, April 15th, Katie Couric, talking in movie theaters, cabbies who talk on their cell-phones, Angelina Jolie’s "accents", the very word "peeve", Pete Wentz’ stupid fucking hair, badgers, the Beach Boys, Oprah’s fucking pregnant man, dammit, I know there’s more… Which color highlighter do you prefer? Pink. Hot pink, I believe it is officially called. The hotter the better. What is your favorite movie soundtrack? Beautiful Girls, maybe, but I’m kind of a soundtrack dork… I also like Once and Natural Born Killers a lot. What should you be doing right now? Cleaning, most likely. Hanging out with all my kids, definitely. Oh! Holy CRAP! Trey just took his first steps! Its about damn time! He totally just walked straight across the room to get a fudge cookie from Daddy! He walked so far it looks like he’s been covertly practicing for weeks! WTF?!?! (I took a break mid-question here to go eat, and I’ll be damned if that little booger didn’t take off!) Do you owe anybody any money right now? Credit Card companies… and that fucking bastard Uncle Sam. If you pressed redial on your home phone who would it call? My mom. The Old Man just called her to say Trey walked! Who would you cast to play you in a movie about your life? Hmmm… I think that’s a question better left to friends. I would cast Angelina Jolie to play Kristen, as long as she promised not to do any accents. Angelina, that is. Kristen can do as many accents as she wants. Ange always said I looked just like Catherine Keener. I’m still not sure how I feel about that… Who was your last hug? Ace      Can you execute an acceptable cartwheel? hells yeah, baby! Round off, too! Were you happy when you woke up this morning? No. It was snowing again. I’m ready for spring! What was the last movie you saw in theaters? Hmmm… it has been a bit…. I think it was 27 Dresses? Good company (amy), retard flick. Who was the last person to text you? The old man What are you looking forward to this summer? Road-trippin’ to Ohio with the fam, then a family reunion in Minnesota with the kids. And fun days at Sunset Pool with Ace showing off his mad high-dive skillz. Who was the last person you ate with? The Old Man, Ace, Deuce and Trey Do raisins belong in cookies? Yes-m. Would you rather have chicken or steak? Steak. Definitely. Who was the last person you took a picture of? Trey probably. Have you ever felt replaced? Affirmative. Are there deer heads covering any walls in your house? No, although sometimes I wish there were, as weird as that sounds. Stuffed and mounted ones, though. Not fresh ones. Have you ever been asked out? I think so? Have you ever driven without a license? Of course not. How many of your friends have seen you naked? Most of ’em. And for any that haven’t, just give me a couple more months to tone up and just wait til I get those new knockers! I’ll have to be told, repeatedly, to keep my shirt on. It will sort of be like my wedding trip, actually. Do you write in cursive or in print? All of it. I’m multi-talented. What were you doing at 10 am? Oh, you know, pumpin’ iron. God, I love that phrase. Almost as much as cut the cheese. Are you different now than you were six months ago? Yeah, I’d say I’m way more flexible since I took up yoga. That may also apply to my general mood…  Oh yeah, also, I CAN FUCKING RUUUUUNNNNN NOW!!!! What was the last beverage you spilled on yourself? Probably coffee.  It usually is, and I don’t notice the stain for a good couple hours out in public. It is usually right around my nipples or all over my gut so you knew I’d forgotten to suck my stomach in and it was just hangin’ out there all big, catchin’ drips. Its hot.  I dare say Paris Hilton probably has the same probs with it that I do. Who are you talking to? Uh, you, dummy.  Who the hell are you talking to?? What is the best book you’ve ever read? A Confederacy of Dunces     What does your name mean? Victory of the People.  Sounds pretty impressive, right?? Little did you know… How many numbers are in your cell phone/address book? 229008.  I’m way popular. I know the most people. I have more friends than anybody. (twirls hair). Oops, 229009, just made another friend! What is your favorite mode of transportation? Feet. Sometimes mine. But I gotta say, I have a soft spot for rickshaws, so I guess I should count other’s feet as well. Have you ever met any celebrities? A few.

This goes out to my girl, Kristen...

Current mood: ecstatic

Oh my god! I’m soooo happy to hear there is someone else out there as addicted to Rock of Love as me and The Old Man! For all of you who have not been following the trials and tribs of the love life of one Bret Michaels of the band, Poison, I say: Shame on You! And get thee to thy nearest On Demand tv and dial it up! Start with the first season, you’ll need the back story. Holy shiz! It does not get any better! In a nutshell, it is bascially like Flava Flav’s show "Flavor of Love" but for white trash (so, hello! I’m in!)

The best thing about Bret? If he even acknowldeges a lady on the show she seems to be mystifyingly obligated to soul kiss the man! In FRONT of everyone else, at length. It is oddly like a junior high party, where everyone is trying to out-French everyone else! I swear these bitches are giving lingual tonsillectomies!

     Anyway, on to my thoughts on this week’s ep:

I was sooooo ready for Kristy Joe to hit the bricks this week! And oh fucking hell, there is nothing funnier than that idiot with the stars on her neck—the one who’s clearly already fucked him!! What’s her name? Daisy! Oh hell, when that girl sang the Star Spangled Banner, I thought I’d died and gone to morbid fascination heaven! She is so fucking hilarious!

And I love that trailer queen Destiney. Oh, it is white trash nirvana!!! And Bret—that poor guy is a glutton for punishment! I just saw in the paper a couple days ago that it was his birthday and I was like, OF COURSE! NOW I get why he’s always head-over for girls who wanna screw him-- and not in the way that they ALL eventually DO screw him, but more in the wow-Bret-you-are-so-easy-to-mind-fuck-way- its because he’s a Pisces male! All rosebuds and feelings! In a fucking hair metal package. God yes.  (Although I LURVED Jess from last season—she rocked… but seriously, I think we all knew that the stripper Heather was a better fit…)

Oh, and evil has a new  face and thy name is Megan! She is sooooo conniving! I love how back-stabby she is! When she took the "ugly" note off Bret’s door and hid it under the glass case! I nearly peed myself! Course, that man-girl Peyton... wow, I think a pic of her is in the dictionary under "coyote ugly".  Anyway! Can you IMAGINE how Miz Thang Megan feels this week?!?! After almost being booted and then Bret being like, "I guess you can stick around Megan, since that psycho just totally fucking trumped my attempt to corner her… now I"m gonna go have a good long cry in my room!"

And holy bonanza! Have you ever seen such a blatant display of bipolar disorder than that twat Kristy Joe?!?! What the fuck was WITH the phone call to her "ex"… yeah, uh, Kristy, you crazy whore…they can only be EX-husbands if you’ve divorced them, and TOLD them that you’re split! I thought it was so great when she started talking about her dual restraining orders! Now if THAT doesn’t set off crazy alarm bells then dude, you may as well just pack it in!

And what’s funny is that he totally sees all that and comments on it and then just goes right ahead and lets the little guy downstairs CONTINUE to call the shots! Fuck, man! You’re Bret Michaels! You haven’t had enough purely sexual, random hookups in your life to STOP letting Red Rod in your pants choose your own adventure?!?! Whatever, the longer you keep being naive and emotional and following all those "deep connections" there will be hilarious fucking tv on!

PS-I got 50 bucks that sez Destiney has already blown Big John.

PPS- Did you notice the age progression of the uber-blonde, over-surgeried archetype? Daisy turns into Aubry (who looked suspiciously like Alexis Arquette...) turns into that French floozie Angelique! God, I miss Angelique.

PPPS- What the FUCK was up with Catherine’s hair!?!? She coulda been one of the smoking-hottest milfs EVER but she had to wear that retard Dynasty ’do!

Currently listening : The Best of Poison: 20 Years of Rock By Poison Release date: 04 April, 2006