Amanda came home for Easter to surprise her family, so of course we made plans to get together and watch the latest trashy episode of Rock of Love. Our plan to feast on Scott’s By Dam tacos was thwarted by Scott’s being closed for Easter, but we enjoyed hot sausage sandwiches and Polish pizza from Pizza Deli instead.
In this gem of an episode, Bret invited the remaining ladies’ ex-boyfriends/ex-husbands on the show to dig up the real dirt on the girls. I heard about this premise a couple of weeks ago and was praying that Kristy Joe lasted until this week. I’m dying to meet the man who wasn’t certain if they were going through with the divorce, despite the fact that she took out a restraining order against him and the fact that she, you know, went on a reality TV show, the object of which is to fall in love with an aging former rock star. Alas, it was not to be and KJ went home last week, but there was still plenty of fun to be had, most of which came from the long-awaited return of the hideously fabulous Heather!
Oh guys, I can’t believe how much I missed Heather. I couldn’t stand her or her tranny** hair during season 1, but now she’s like a skanky breath of fresh air. With huge tranny hair. It just shows how much this show has gone downhill since the glory days of season 1. These season 2 girls can’t hack it. They can’t hold a candle to Heather. She walks on screen and suddenly all the season 2 girls seem dull and gray. They are ashes and Heather is a big, bright, booze-guzzling sparkler! I adore her!
**This is not tranny in the Christian Siriano sense; i.e. “hot tranny mess.” This is tranny in the sense of actual tranny. To paraphrase the philosopher Steven Tyler, Lady sometimes looks like a dude.
Heather wasted no time digging up all the dirt she could get on these girls. And like utter fools, they told her everything. Everything! Did these half-wits not watch season 1? Amanda and I nearly choked on our Polish pizza when Daisy revealed she still lives with her boyfriend. In a one-bedroom apartment! Then, hilariously, she tried to cry, but the Botox wouldn’t let her move her face, and the collagen made her trembling lips look like two of those water noodles that we float on in Aunt Linda’s pool. It was fantastic.
Also, Bret took the exes to Dave and Buster’s. Skee-ball! Tickets! That, coupled with his Steelers love, makes me think he and I could maybe be friends. Then I remember how much eyeliner he wears, and that thought gets blown out of the Monongahela.
In the end, dumb bimbo Megan got the boot, and it was pretty hilarious. She just stood there like a petulant child, shaking her head, while everyone wondered how many times and ways Bret was going to have to explain to her to get out of the house. I seriously thought he was going to have to have Heather drag Megan out by her hair. Now that would have been classic.
Then Bret announced the best news of all: the group would be leaving, post-haste, for Vegas and THEY’RE TAKING HEATHER WITH THEM! Oh, joy! Rapture! Please let her stay forever!
Next week: Heather, like a fabulous, manipulative cruise director, manages to have all the girls turn on Daisy. There will be screaming. There will be crying. There will be drinks thrown. There may even be some face slapping. I. Cannot. Wait.
I love this horrible trashy show oh help me I love it so much someone bring me some vodka!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Beware the Ides of March, indeed.
March 15th has always made me think about the assassination of Gaius Julius Caesar, who was done in on the Roman Senate floor on that date in 44 B.C. No more. Now, that date will forever be emblazoned in my brain as the day I got food poisoning. And even though old Gaius was brutally stabbed by a group of his closest colleagues with the final death blow being delivered by a man he looked upon as a son, I still don’t think he suffered more than I did, at the hands of a tainted Red Robin gourmet cheeseburger minus the pickle relish. At least his pain was over in a matter of minutes, whereas I spent two days hunched over the toilet performing a spot-on Linda Blair impersonation. All this in addition to enduring the worst car ride since that girl accepted a lift from Ted Kennedy. My dear friend chauffeured me home from Harrisburg for two and a half hours as I lay in the back seat with my head in a plastic bag. And even though he really loves his car, he assured me that it was totally cool for me to barf in it. That is friendship.
I suspect that, in addition to feeling like Linda Blair in her most famous role, I may have also looked like her. As I stumbled to the ladies’ room in the Turnpike’s Midway rest stop, crowds parted before me like the Red Sea, children clung to their mothers in fear, and it’s possible that grown men may have wept. When I reached the ladies’ room mirror, I noticed that my lips were the same color as my skin which was the same color as the white American cheese that had graced my poisoned burger. It was not a pleasant sight.
Food poisoning. Avoid it if at all possible.
I suspect that, in addition to feeling like Linda Blair in her most famous role, I may have also looked like her. As I stumbled to the ladies’ room in the Turnpike’s Midway rest stop, crowds parted before me like the Red Sea, children clung to their mothers in fear, and it’s possible that grown men may have wept. When I reached the ladies’ room mirror, I noticed that my lips were the same color as my skin which was the same color as the white American cheese that had graced my poisoned burger. It was not a pleasant sight.
Food poisoning. Avoid it if at all possible.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Just shut up and unload the cart.
So I went to Wal-Mart today, which is always a chore. I hate that store so much, that when I walk through the door I start to feel all jittery and weird and angry at everyone around me, sort of the way I imagine David Berkowitz felt the first time his dog talked to him. It's a place that makes people look at each other with expressions of mounting malice, all "get out of my way, get OUT of my way right NOW, I need the TOOTHPASTE!" It's a place where there is much darkness and wailing and gnashing of teeth, is what I'm saying. So I've been taking my iPod with me and drowning everything out with Billy Joel and Mel Carter and The Frames, and I've been making a concerted effort to politely allow people in front of me and set an example of what behavior in a civilized society should be. I'm quite proud of myself, to be honest.
So today I was approaching the registers with a cart so over-laden I looked like I was shopping to stock up an early-Cold-War era bomb shelter, despite the fact that I had gone in there looking only for waffles and Brita filters, because goodness knows you can't get out of Wal-Mart without spending the equivalent of the gross domestic product of Equatorial Guinea, when I was cut off by a man with a cart even more over-laden than mine. I had spotted a register with only one person in line, an amazing find in this valley of darkness, and I headed right for it, only to be cut off by this man apparently doing an impression of a New Jersey driver on the Turnpike. I remembered that we're living in a civilized society and I listened to Billy reminding me that "it's all about soul" and I filed in behind him with a patient smile. I was quite proud of myself, to be honest.
Then he turned around and looked at the woman who had filed in behind me, also with an over-laden cart, and indicated that she was his wife. They seemed nice and the fact that they had two carts piled high made me imagine that they had 18 children or possibly lived in a commune and had been given the task of shopping for the members that week. I then (I was really proud of myself this time) offered to let the woman go in front of me with her husband, and he smiled and said, "No, no, we have two carts. You go first." Can you imagine? A font of civilized behavior springing up in the middle of aisle 7 in a Wal-Mart? I graciously accepted his offer and quickly loaded my purchases onto the conveyor belt, trying to be quick so as to incommode these nice people as little as possible. I smiled to myself and made a mental note to thank them again just before I left. That's when it all began to unravel.
The man in front of us, who had been the only one in the line, was purchasing some camel throw blankets and he was insisting they were on sale, despite the fact that they weren't ringing up that way. I might have known the momentum of the line would come to a screeching halt as soon as I entered it. I am a curse to lines. I get it from my father.
The cashier put her light on. No one came. The cashier called the blanket department. No one answered. We stood there. Other lines moved. Ours did not. I felt bad that I was holding these people up with my line curse. The cashier left to go to the blanket department herself. The woman behind me sighed audibly. We stood some more. The man with the camel throws tried to get my opinion on which his mother would prefer: People or The National Enquirer. I gave him a look that was meant to convey that I don't read trashy magazines and that I saw through his "mother" ruse and knew he was buying them for himself. He put them back and bought an US Weekly. I remembered that I was setting an example for civility and smiled at the man with the US Weekly in apology for judging him for reading tabloids.
The woman behind me decided to move to the line next to ours. The cashier finally returned, not having found anyone from the blanket department. She finished the man's order and just as I was reminding myself to thank the people behind me once my merch was rung up, I heard the following exchange:
Woman: I'll go in this line and you stay in that one and one of us will move faster.
Man: Just stay in this line. If this one moves and you get in that one, we'll be split up.
Woman: Oh, Bob, JUST SHUT UP, WILL YOU!
Man: JUST STOP BEING A [BLEEP] JERK!
Woman: YES THAT'S RIGHT BOB. I'm the JERK!
Man: Why do you have to be SO DIFFICULT ALL THE TIME?
Woman: Just SHUT UP and unload the CART!
(The caps are meant to indicate screaming at a volume easily heard in the Electronics Department.)
The cashier just kept her head down and furiously concentrated on ringing up items. An awkward silence fell over the crowd around us. And of course I'm thinking, "Oh holy crap, please don't let them be armed and please don't let this woman go off on me because her husband let me in front of him and please don't let her find out about my line curse." They were standing 8 inches away and I was too afraid to turn around and look at them. A parting smile and a thank you were now out of the question. I paid for my stuff and ran. It may have been my imagination, but I could swear I heard the sound of a bag of frozen peas being thrown at someone's head as I made my hasty exit.
And this only proves something which I have always suspected. Wal-Mart makes people despise each other. Friends, strangers, husbands and wives. It matters not. Walk through those sliding doors and you're gonna want to kill each other. And everyone else around you.
They don't have a gun department, do they?
So today I was approaching the registers with a cart so over-laden I looked like I was shopping to stock up an early-Cold-War era bomb shelter, despite the fact that I had gone in there looking only for waffles and Brita filters, because goodness knows you can't get out of Wal-Mart without spending the equivalent of the gross domestic product of Equatorial Guinea, when I was cut off by a man with a cart even more over-laden than mine. I had spotted a register with only one person in line, an amazing find in this valley of darkness, and I headed right for it, only to be cut off by this man apparently doing an impression of a New Jersey driver on the Turnpike. I remembered that we're living in a civilized society and I listened to Billy reminding me that "it's all about soul" and I filed in behind him with a patient smile. I was quite proud of myself, to be honest.
Then he turned around and looked at the woman who had filed in behind me, also with an over-laden cart, and indicated that she was his wife. They seemed nice and the fact that they had two carts piled high made me imagine that they had 18 children or possibly lived in a commune and had been given the task of shopping for the members that week. I then (I was really proud of myself this time) offered to let the woman go in front of me with her husband, and he smiled and said, "No, no, we have two carts. You go first." Can you imagine? A font of civilized behavior springing up in the middle of aisle 7 in a Wal-Mart? I graciously accepted his offer and quickly loaded my purchases onto the conveyor belt, trying to be quick so as to incommode these nice people as little as possible. I smiled to myself and made a mental note to thank them again just before I left. That's when it all began to unravel.
The man in front of us, who had been the only one in the line, was purchasing some camel throw blankets and he was insisting they were on sale, despite the fact that they weren't ringing up that way. I might have known the momentum of the line would come to a screeching halt as soon as I entered it. I am a curse to lines. I get it from my father.
The cashier put her light on. No one came. The cashier called the blanket department. No one answered. We stood there. Other lines moved. Ours did not. I felt bad that I was holding these people up with my line curse. The cashier left to go to the blanket department herself. The woman behind me sighed audibly. We stood some more. The man with the camel throws tried to get my opinion on which his mother would prefer: People or The National Enquirer. I gave him a look that was meant to convey that I don't read trashy magazines and that I saw through his "mother" ruse and knew he was buying them for himself. He put them back and bought an US Weekly. I remembered that I was setting an example for civility and smiled at the man with the US Weekly in apology for judging him for reading tabloids.
The woman behind me decided to move to the line next to ours. The cashier finally returned, not having found anyone from the blanket department. She finished the man's order and just as I was reminding myself to thank the people behind me once my merch was rung up, I heard the following exchange:
Woman: I'll go in this line and you stay in that one and one of us will move faster.
Man: Just stay in this line. If this one moves and you get in that one, we'll be split up.
Woman: Oh, Bob, JUST SHUT UP, WILL YOU!
Man: JUST STOP BEING A [BLEEP] JERK!
Woman: YES THAT'S RIGHT BOB. I'm the JERK!
Man: Why do you have to be SO DIFFICULT ALL THE TIME?
Woman: Just SHUT UP and unload the CART!
(The caps are meant to indicate screaming at a volume easily heard in the Electronics Department.)
The cashier just kept her head down and furiously concentrated on ringing up items. An awkward silence fell over the crowd around us. And of course I'm thinking, "Oh holy crap, please don't let them be armed and please don't let this woman go off on me because her husband let me in front of him and please don't let her find out about my line curse." They were standing 8 inches away and I was too afraid to turn around and look at them. A parting smile and a thank you were now out of the question. I paid for my stuff and ran. It may have been my imagination, but I could swear I heard the sound of a bag of frozen peas being thrown at someone's head as I made my hasty exit.
And this only proves something which I have always suspected. Wal-Mart makes people despise each other. Friends, strangers, husbands and wives. It matters not. Walk through those sliding doors and you're gonna want to kill each other. And everyone else around you.
They don't have a gun department, do they?
Monday, February 11, 2008
Take-out Queen, dethroned?
Tonight I did something shocking, just shocking. I made myself dinner. The last time I made myself dinner was probably during the Reagan administration. I really don’t know what came over me. Even more, I kind of made up a recipe. I made a breakfast burrito! For the filling, I stole Zack’s Polish Breakfast recipe and removed the sausage because I am afraid to touch meat (Thanks Zack!) and I wrapped it up in a warmed-up sandwich wrap shell. It was quite delicious. Next time I would add some green peppers or possibly some cheese. I also got to use the cool carved wood cooking utensil that my friend’s dad made for me, and at no time was my kitchen in danger of being set ablaze. This was such a positive experience, I may even try it again next month.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
My own special brand of coordination
It takes a truly special girl to smack herself in the jaw when picking up the telephone to place a call. Interpret the word "special" however you wish.
I'm going to get an icepack. And some Tylenol.
I'm going to get an icepack. And some Tylenol.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Oscar readiness continues!
So I went to visit Liz and Zack last weekend because they promised me a weekend full of Oscar movies and games of Settlers of Catan, both of which I am totally addicted to. Liz pretty much stomped us on Catan (Ali and Zack – 1 game each; Liz – 4 games), but at least she didn’t make me dig a trench. Only Kristen will get that. Anyway, Liz’s house is a superfun place to stay. Everyone should go! She and Zack make you really good food and cookies and you get to do fun stuff like go to the movies to see There Will Be Blood, the last of the five Best Picture nominees that I needed to see.
The movie was fantastic. So much so, that I will only be mildly disappointed (as opposed to devastated) if it beats No Country For Old Men as Best Picture. It’s about the rise of an oil man in the early decades of the 20th century. It was beautifully filmed and just told a great story, like something from back in the 50s when movies could just tell a great story and not have to worry about making lots of money. And I got to cross off 8 slots on my nominations list. So. much. fun.
Daniel Day-Lewis already has the Best Actor Oscar in his possession. Seriously, he’s probably carrying it around in his man-bag right now, it’s so much his by right. He completely disappeared into the role. You’d never imagine there was an unassuming, soft-spoken Englishman in there. It just makes me feel bad for Viggo Mortensen. The year he’s so awesome in Eastern Promises is the year that Daniel Day-Lewis decides to come out of hiding and make another film. Poor Viggo.
Paul Dano was also fantastic, but he always, always creeps me out when he’s in a movie. I rank him right below Cillian Murphy and just above Jonathan Rhys Meyers in that regard. And Dano was at his creepifyingly best in this one. Ciaran Hinds rounds out an excellent cast, so how could you go wrong?
I must now go read “Settlers of Catan For Dummies” so I can make a triumphant comeback on my next visit.
The movie was fantastic. So much so, that I will only be mildly disappointed (as opposed to devastated) if it beats No Country For Old Men as Best Picture. It’s about the rise of an oil man in the early decades of the 20th century. It was beautifully filmed and just told a great story, like something from back in the 50s when movies could just tell a great story and not have to worry about making lots of money. And I got to cross off 8 slots on my nominations list. So. much. fun.
Daniel Day-Lewis already has the Best Actor Oscar in his possession. Seriously, he’s probably carrying it around in his man-bag right now, it’s so much his by right. He completely disappeared into the role. You’d never imagine there was an unassuming, soft-spoken Englishman in there. It just makes me feel bad for Viggo Mortensen. The year he’s so awesome in Eastern Promises is the year that Daniel Day-Lewis decides to come out of hiding and make another film. Poor Viggo.
Paul Dano was also fantastic, but he always, always creeps me out when he’s in a movie. I rank him right below Cillian Murphy and just above Jonathan Rhys Meyers in that regard. And Dano was at his creepifyingly best in this one. Ciaran Hinds rounds out an excellent cast, so how could you go wrong?
I must now go read “Settlers of Catan For Dummies” so I can make a triumphant comeback on my next visit.
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