Hungry? Why Wait?

I was just considering what I would do the next time I visit California. And all I could think about is how I would eat my way through the entire state at all the places I cannot enjoy out here...

First of all, there's Chipotle and Rubio's: it is next to impossible to get really good Mexican food out here, and these are just the chains I like! I'm sure these places have locations in the great state of North Carolina, but sadly I live in such a small town that the nearest Starbucks is approximately 25 miles away. We have fantastic local restaurants, but sometimes I miss these chains that are on every friggin' corner in Cali. And on the subject of Mexican food, let's not even talk about Miguel's in San Diego. On second thought, let's. Add that in there too. And obvs there is In-N-Out: 'Nuff said. And let's also hit up Yard House and Dave & Buster's for happy hours, BJ's for pizza and beer, Ra Sushi for, well, sushi, duh.

Only in LA: MARIX! It's been too long. More ridiculously good Mexican food. In fact, Marix is my all-time favorite. Lola's ( for mac and cheese and martinis...and freshly baked cookies!), Cheebo, Toast, Doughboy's, and let's not leave out East West for bellinis and karaoke! And of course I'm now dying to try Villa Blanca after watching this season of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, dahling.

In San Diego: Megan's Cafe for breakfast, Gus's for pizza, Miguel's, and definitely Searsucker...yummmmm.

In Sactown: Mikuni, Fat's, Pluto's, Beach Hut Deli, La Bou...am I forgetting anything? I can't think straight anymore because now I'm fixin'* to eat my face off. And as I said, if you are ever in this here neck of the backwoods, we have some mighty fine local restaurants that are worth a visit, and that I'm sure will be added to the list of restaurants I miss when we are gone. On that note, I will be in my kitchen now, rustlin' up something to grub down on.


*I just figured now that I am local here I should darn tootin' start talkin' like one!

BritGlee™

I have to admit, I have not been on here in quite awhile. Truthfully, I have just not found anything I have felt compelled to write about. But today is a new day. Yes, today is BritGlee™ day. Incidentally, I coined the phrase BritGlee™ today, and I have taken the liberty of trademarking it, much like Paris Hilton did with That's Hot™. But I digress.



For those not obsessed with Britney Spears (as I am) or Glee (as I am) or both (as I am), tonight was the much-anticipated (by me) episode dedicated to Britney, bitch. I must admit, it was almost everything a BritGleek™ like me could hope for. I have to say almost, because I obviously would have preferred a little more screen time from my homegirl, Britney.



However, there were many factors that managed to make the scarcity of the Britster up for me tenfold.First of all, this episode was like a tribute to my childhood and teen years. While I was deeply affronted by the Glee Clubers pointing out the fact that they "grew up on" Britney (hello, Britney and I are the same age, way to out me as an old fart, Fox!!), I was DELIGHTED by the inclusion of the following:

•Uncle Jesse (aka John Stamos) as Emma's new boyfriend. The only thing that will make this casting choice better is if he gets to perform his hit single Forever in an upcoming episode. Maybe with Emma superimposed over Aunt Becky? And if that episode would include another return of Kristin Chenoweth I think my head may explode.

•The phrase "Leave Britney alone" being uttered within about the first 2 minutes of the episode. Glorious. Too bad Chris Crocker himself wasn't in it! Maybe he was, like, a backup dancer, and I just didn't notice...I foresee that I may have to purchase this episode on iTunes in order to watch it as frequently as I would like in order to get to the bottom of such pressing matters...and obviously to also learn all the choreography...

•Speaking of awesome YouTube references, how about the uttering of the phrase "is this real life" after Rachel goes under at the dentist??! Holy crap, my head very nearly did explode after that. For those who aren't part of the 60 million people who watched it on YouTube, this was a reference to David After the Dentist . The inclusion of that random, and yet totally relevant, phrase was pure genius. I tip my hat to you, Glee writers.

•Ignoring the fact that the characters' childhoods were spent listening to Britney Spears (and mine Wilson Phillips), the references to MY childhood icons brought me pure joy and delight!! Not only did they discuss Blossom (who helped me discover the importance of amazing headwear) but Emma, the very same Emma who is dating Uncle Jesse, actually told Mr. Schue that he looked like a cast member of Kids Incorporated!!! *THUD* Oh, I'm sorry about that. I just died of happiness!!!!

Okay, I am miraculously revived. Whew. Close one. And so, the moral of the story is, every week should be "Britney Week" on Glee.



Or at the very least, "Obscure References to Pop Culture From the Early 90's Until Today Week." It's a mouthful, but it will catch on like fire with viewers like me. Think about it, Fox, just think about it.

Final Thoughts

I sat down to watch Chelsea Lately tonight, and I was treated to a little case of You're-Getting-Old-itis. What that means is I have contracted a disease over the past couple of years that has made it glaringly obvious that I am no longer the young whippersnapper I once was...or whatever the female version of that is. And occasionally, I get flare-ups of said disease that make me want to locate Doc Brown and his Delorean IMMEDIATELY. Case in point: Jerry Springer is the guest on Chelsea Lately tonight, and he has just pointed out that his show has been on the air for TWENTY YEARS. May I just take a moment to point out that I still remember his show when it was merely a talk show of the Sally Jesse Raphael, or Phil Donohue variety, (two shows that some of you may be too young to even remember, as they have been off the air for so long now) and not the depraved reminder of all things wrong with America today that it has since become. So basically, what I am trying to say is I remember this show at it's inception. And it has been on for TWENTY YEARS. The only thing getting me through this revelation is Jerry's comment that his own show "has no redeeming social value whatsoever." And that little tidbit gives me a sliver of hope that maybe our society will turn out okay after all, and that I don't need to polish my bow and arrows and befriend Katniss Everdeen just yet...

The Internal Struggle

Even though I mostly enjoy working out (or at least I enjoy fitting into my favorite jeans), I am constantly finding myself battling a never-ending Internal Struggle with whether or not I should go to the gym. It begins the moment I wake up, and only ends when either I go to the freakin' gym, or curse my lazy ass to sleep, hating myself for not forcing myself to go.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you The Internal Struggle:

7:00 am, alarm goes off: *Rolls over* mmgjhajkas...stupid alarm...dgjnzf...Son of a B...*hits snooze button*

7:07, alarm goes off again: Hmm...okay, I can sleep for 15 more minutes, then I have to get up

7:22: Alright, if I am going to get in a morning workout, I have to leave in an hour. Plenty of time.

7:30, alarm #2 goes off: Okay, I'm up, I'm up...zzzzzzzz

8:55 am: @$%#. It's okay, it's okay. I'll go after the lunch crowd is gone. I just have to get there before 3.

11 am: Or, you know, I could just go for a run later, when it cools off or something.

12:30: Better put my gym clothes on. If I'm already dressed, that's half the battle. Plus, how lazy would I have to be to get dressed and not go to the gym? Only a crazy person would do that.

1pm: I wonder how late the gym is open...

1:15: Pfft, it's open until 9! I can totally go later.

2:30: Alright, I have to go soon if I'm going to miss the after-work crowd.

3: I'll just go after dinner. It might be kind of nice then. But I really have to go, I mean there is no excuse.

4: Or I could still just have a run, then I don't have to drive the 40 minute round-trip drive...ugh

5:30: Or really, I could just eat really light today. I already kind of have. Isn't diet just as important as exercise? I mean, it's good to take a day off from the gym right? Let your body rest? Although, I didn't go 2 days ago either...But it's not like you have to work out every day to stay in shape right?

6:30: Well, let's be real, I am obviously not going to the gym today. I'd better decide if I'm going for a run or not so I can change out of these gym clothes.

6:45: *Steps outside* Well screw that. It's practically a steam room out there.

6:46: *Peels off sports bra* Aaah. That spells relief.

11:00 pm, in bed: I hate myself. What a lazy bitch. Who does that? Who. Does. That? *Sets alarm* I'm definitely working out tomorrow.

Ninja Kitty Assassins

So. I totally got mauled by one of our cats, Mr. Belding, today. I was just trying to move him off my lap so I could get up, and the moment I touched him, he twisted around like a kitty ninja and pierced my arm with his Chinese death stars--oh, I mean claws. I now feel that I know how Siegfried felt. Or is it Roy? Whichever. I felt betrayed and also it hurt like a bitch. I can't imagine anything hurting more, although I'm sure Siegfried would beg to differ. Or Roy. I immediately started crying and yelled "you bastard!" and ran to the bedroom, shutting the door so he couldn't follow me. It was all very dramatic. Like a Lifetime Movie, only I didn't collapse on the floor behind the door and weep silently. But don't think that didn't occur to me. Then of course within 5 minutes I hear scratching at the door, and obviously I was hoping it would be Tito trying to comfort me and tell me what a jerk his brother is, but alas, it was Mr. Belding, looking up at me all sweet and wide-eyed. He immediately started cuddling me so I think it's safe to say he really learned his lesson. Well. Probably not, but it's just so hard to stay mad at that little bugger, so the heart believes what it wants.

I'd Like To Buy A Vowel

Throughout my childhood, I had a variety of career aspirations. For example, at the age of four, when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would proudly proclaim "Vanna White!" Yes, I felt that my talents would be best spent walking back and forth across a soundstage, turning letters (and later, as technology advanced, touching a screen to reveal letters). Plus she wore, like, really pretty sparkly dresses! What an awesome job! Later, I got a little older and decided that I wanted to be a member of The Mickey Mouse Club. Or Kids Incorporated, really I wasn't picky. Then I expanded beyond the show business industry and thought I might like to be a teacher. Then in sixth grade, my yearbook entry stated that I wanted to be a pediatrician. Really? I don't know where that one came from. I must not have realized how much schooling went into that, not to mention science classes, which I hate, and blood and needles, which I fear. But never mind. By seventh grade I knew what I really, truly wanted to be: a Janet Jackson back up dancer. I had the moves from the "If" video down pat, and I was pretty much obsessed with dance, taking at least 5 classes a week. Yes this was my calling.

In junior high, Brooke and I were so into our dance "careers" we refused to do anything that might jeopardize that.

Running the mile in PE: No thanks, we will walk. We don't want to develop bulky muscles that might not look aesthetically pleasing as a dancer, and ruin our futures in dance.

Invited to go on a snowboarding trip: Sorry, no can do. We might injure ourselves and not be able to perform at the Red Lion Inn in Sacramento next week.

The good news is, our ridiculous obsession also kept us out also kept us out of trouble. We wouldn't dare do anything to get ourselves in trouble and possibly risk our futures as Broadway dancers or Rockettes. Actually, I am too short to be a Rockette, which completely devastated me when I found out, but I digress.

Now that I am still looking for work and not having much luck, I think I may have had it right at the age of four. I mean Vanna White's job is pretty much awesome, and one of the few jobs for which I feel totally confident that I am qualified. Look out Vanna, someone's gunning for you to trip on your heels and leave a vacancy...

Carrie Bradshaw, I Knew You Were A Smart Cookie

After all these years...six fabulous seasons and two somewhat entertaining movies... I finally know what Carrie Bradshaw was talking about. Okay, I don't want to brag, or toot my own horn, but there is a blonde in the room who just received her very first pair of Manolo Blahniks and she is really freaking excited about it!

I have to say after wearing them I really do understand why they are so expensive. They feel more comfortable, look more luxurious, and have the ability to make the wearer walk on water! I know that last part sounds a little far-fetched, but trust me, it's true. I won more money while wearing them in Vegas, and appeared at least 3 years younger. We are talking miracle shoes here!!! I walked taller (partly because my height was increased by at least 4 inches) and felt more fabulous. These puppies are worth every discounted penny! Ladies, there is a sale at the store in the Wynn. Run, don't walk. And when you leave the store...strut!

Not Without Ketchup

Okay, I swore to myself that I wasn't just going to write about SYTYCD all the time because really. Not that many people watch it religiously like me, so I could be alienating some of my fan base! And then I realized... Fan base??! What fan base? Oh you mean my mom and husband? Yeah they have to listen to me anyway, so I can write about whatever I want! Yay me!

Anyhoodle, I am sitting here watching last night's episode and after getting through the first fifteen minutes of the two hour show, I just couldn't hold it in anymore! First of all, Cat Deeley clearly wants to be the next Paula because HOLY CRAP was she drunk or something?

In the opening of the show alone she said, for no apparent reason "Don't ruffle my feathers, Billy!" when strutting past him, and then kept repeating "Weren't they great this week?" Perhaps they were when you watched them in rehearsals, Cat, but the rest of us haven't watched them dance yet. After the first performance, which ends with Christina sort of straddled on top of Pasha, Cat says gleefully, "Woman on top! You're a girl after my own heart!" Um...okay...TMI maybe?

THEN it gets crazier. So they are doing these "packages" (as they call them on these shows) of clips of the dancers as kids. While Adechike is talking about how he has no photos of himself dancing as a child because his family lost everything in a fire, they proceed to show family photos of him engulfed in digital flames! I'm sorry...did that really just happen? That was both tasteless and uncomfortable. Congratulations, Fox! You just ousted Danielle Staub's "striptease performance" on the Real Housewives of New Jersey as The Thing Burned On My Retinas That I Never Wanted To See In The First Place. On to his performance with Allison... Oh I'm sorry, he was in that dance? I couldn't stop watching Allison; she was amazing. And herein lies the problem with the "All Stars" being on the show: the newbies risk being outperformed by the "All Stars" when paired up with the likes of Allison and Kathryn. And yes I am still putting "All Stars" in quotes much like I will write the Katy Perry song "California Girls" and not the deliberate (and ridiculous) misspelling she uses. I refuse to even acknowledge it. But that is neither her nor there.

Can I just take a minute here to sing the praises of Alex? I think he's my favorite male dancer. Although Kent was so stinking cute last week, he won me over a little bit. But Alex, to me, is the best male dancer on the show. Was he perfectly in the Fosse style this week? No, but he is such a beautiful dancer I really don't care. Add the fact that he was paired with Lauren, which to me worked in his favor, as she..well...SUCKS. Okay, obviously she's a better dancer than me, but that's not really the point. She's NOT better than, say, any other girl that's been on the show before and would have been better suited to be called an "All Star."

Next up, Cat manages to slur the word "Ashley" which is actually harder to do than it sounds, considering it has that built in "SH" sound that so often occurs in slurred speech.

By the way, is Mia Michaels wearing brass knuckles??

At this point in the evening, I half expected Cat to make a drunken remark about how the whitest boy to ever dance on their stage was about to krump and, well... she did manage to do a little "gangsta" hand motion when describing the "mean streets of Palm Beach" where he grew up. So I wasn't entirely disappointed. And in swoops Billy, out to steal my heart with the description of his first dance routine to the Backstreet Boys, replete with pleather, flame-covered costume at which point he says "it was pretty epic, I'm not going to lie." Oh Billy, that warmed my cold, black heart! And then Billy skips into rehearsal and says to Li'l C in true Billy fashion "Hiiiii Lit-tle C!" which is just so darn cute, especially when you anticipate that he is about to learn how to krump. Correction, Billy, THIS is going to be epic. I just hope they have plenty of pleather ready for him. And, well, Billy lucked out because that routine was about as much krump as Ashley's routine was jazz. Which is to say, not.

And then we have our resident tap dancer, Hipster McNoPersonality, who dances a contemporary routine in which I found her to be horrendous and the judges adored. Hmmm...WHATEVS

All-Star Kathryn (who doesn't get air quotes because she is EPIC) dancing Bollywood gave me chills. She was perfection wrapped up in a glittery, harem-wrapped, face-painted bow. I think she was paired up with one of the newbies but I failed to notice him.

I am excited to watch Lauren, my favorite contestant. However, the fact that I am 10 years older than her is not completely lost on me. This means that when she started dancing, I started high school. I have now officially become one of Those People who hates getting older. I'll try to let that go, because unless I locate Nicolas Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone and use it to make some Elixer of Life, I'm pretty much SOL on that front. Anyway, LAUREN. WAS. AMAZING! Love love love her! That hip hop routine was all kinds of awesome, and she NAILED IT! That just made my night. I may have to watch it again.

Not do be outdone, however, Cat manages to turn into a creepy sex predator. Lauren, young, sweet innocent and fresh out of high school, mentions how she tried to go to a deeper place (emotionally) with this performance, and Cat turns to her partner, Dominic, and says "Dominic do you want to get to a...deeper...place?" I am now convinced that Cat has been spending her free time with David Hasselhoff, and we will soon see her sprawled on the floor talking about cheeseburgers. I give it four more episodes.

Last up is Kent, who inadvertently calls his partner, Courtney, a whore, when he says she allows him to touch her as much as he wants, which is something new and different for him. I guess she didn't have the heart to tell him she was allowing him to touch her in the manner in which the routine was choreographed.

And the quote of the night comes from (who else?) Cat Deeley:

Nigel (to Courtney) "Would you eat [Kent] alive?"
Cat: "Not without ketchup!"

And OH MY GOD Cat actually says she's getting a hamburger after the show! Did I call that or what??! Better make that two more episodes.

Panic Mode

Okay, I know I am a bit of an exaggerator, but I just came home to the biggest bug I have ever seen in my life. It is the size of a house. SERIOUSLY. It is bigger than my cats were when we got them as kittens. SERIOUSLY. I don't know what to do. Do I call the fire department? Animal control? The zoo? NASA? Maybe they'll want to do some experiments on it before returning it to it's home planet. I certainly don't have the stomach to get rid of it myself. I am afraid it will kill me in my sleep if I try. Or worse, kill me in my sleep if I DON'T try. Then what do I do with it if I am able to spray it down? Do I bury it? Call a funeral home? I am FREAKING OUT. We are talking about a girl who is afraid of baby spiders. This thing eats baby spiders for breakfast. Then moves on to mice because a baby spider is like a CRUMB to him. I am officially in full blown panic mode. Somebody help me!!!

So You Think You Can Ruin My Favorite Show

Just as another lackluster season of American Idol ends, so begins another season of one of my favorite shows: So You Think You Can Dance. Am I the only one who sometimes wishes they had gone with a show title that wasn't such a mouthful? Even just calling it "America's Favorite Dancer" since that's what they're searching for... or "American Dancer" like "American Idol" would've been easier too. I mean, those titles suggestions are admittedly kind of lame, but really, whoever was in the room when they voted on "So You Think You Can Dance" as the winning show title doesn't really have room to talk.

Anyway, the new season started the other night (I don't even know what night, it just showed up on my DVR list like a little gift from heaven) and I have some more grievances to air with Fox over the direction they are taking with this show. I know. But they brought this upon themselves.

Granted, they've changed the format around ever since the show started, so I should just get used to it. Like, does anyone remember Lauren Sanchez, the original host? Poor thing is to SYTYCD as Brian Dunkleman is to American Idol. Only Cat Deeley isn't nearly as big of a bitch as Ryan Seacrest, and would never go on live television and joke about the missing Lauren Sanchez. (For those who didn't watch this season of AI, Seacrest made a joke about Brian Dunkleman coming back, just one of many weird moments that make him a perfect candidate for his own Real Housewives franchise on Bravo. But I digress)

Anyway, the seasons have changed over the years, from the dancers switching partners every week, to having the same partner, which wasn't such a big deal to me. Then they added random styles like "Russian" replete with horrendous costumes. Not my cup of tea dance-wise, but it's good for some laughs, so whatevs. But these are just minor annoyances, like when the judges wet themselves over all of Sonya Tayeh's routines, most of which I just don't get. Sort of like her hair.

Last season you will recall they not only short-changed my season by an episode, but due to the World Series conflicting with the schedule, they didn't allow voting for the first couple of episodes. Which is sort of the entire point of the show: finding AMERICA'S Favorite Dancer. Not Nigel Lithgoe's Favorite Dancer. But the judges ultimately eliminated the people I would have eliminated, so I let that one slide.

But now, they're reformatting the entire process of the show. (Side note: I don't know if these changes are to make it more like Dancing With the Stars, but I for one don't even like that show) First of all, instead of having the show begin with the Top 20 dancers, they're only going to have a Top 10. I guess this means we can brace ourselves for an even shorter season than the last. Then, instead of the dancers being paired with each other, they are bringing in a cast of former contestants, or "All-Stars" (most of which are so memorable to me I had to look them up to figure out who the hell they were) and the dancers will be paired with a different "All-Star" each week. I will continue to put "All-Stars" in quotes because I refuse to take that title seriously. This is where it's reminding me wayyyy too much of DWTS. Because hey, trained dancers win that show too, so I really fail to see the difference now. Also, with "All-Stars" like Lauren in the mix, it vaguely reminds me of the "mentors" on American Idol this season. WHAT. A joke. Miley Cyrus was a mentor. You read that right. Miley Cyrus. What the hell kind of advice did they expect from her? "Hey y'all! *Smacks gum* So the way for y'all to become, like, famous and stuff *smack smack* is to have a daddy who's, like, already famous *smack* and, like, have him get you a show on the Disney Channel. *Smack smack* They'll pretty much take care of the rest of your career. *Smack*" Another one of Idol's expert "mentors": Adam Lambert. The same Adam Lambert who was just on last season. And lost. And whose very first album just came out. Like a week before the show. He was on Ellen before the mentor episode aired and even he was pretty miffed as to why they chose him. I guess a paycheck's a paycheck though.

In addition to these drastic changes to SYTYCD, the hot tamale train has permanently left the station. That's right, Mary Murphy has been replaced by MIA Michaels (Get it? She was MIA last season...and her name's Mia. I kill myself) as a permanent judge, and Mary will allegedly be back as a guest judge, but I won't hold my breath on that one. We'll see how this season pans out. I'm not going to lie, I am less than thrilled with these changes and I'm not afraid to take it off my DVR series list if it totally sucks. After all, I'm going to have to make room for The X Factor when that starts! At least there's one reality competition show for me to look forward to.

'Cause I'm A Blonde, Yeah Yeah Yeah!

Today, I couldn't take it anymore. I decided that today was the day I would get some mothereffing highlights! Actually, to be accurate I just decided that I needed to be blonder in any way, shape, or form. After perusing the interwebs for a viable hairdresser, and not finding anyone that jumped out at me, I saw online that Ulta carries the Frederic Fekkai hair color line. I've used it before and I had really liked the way it turned out, so I was just going to go a shade lighter with that for now. It's $30 well spent! Anyway, I had some other things I needed to do in the same area as the nearest Ulta, so I figured it was fate.

However, I got to the store and this particular Ulta didn't carry the line. Well. I browsed around but I didn't want to use the other brands. I mean, I've done it before but I have been trying so hard to grow my hair out and I didn't want to ruin all the progress. So I decided that this was in fact the real fate and I should just go ahead and get some highlights at the salon there. They didn't have anyone available for a couple of hours, but as fate would have it (AGAIN!) I had stopped there first and still had plenty of other shopping to do.

3:30, Toys R Us: Sale on the Pack N Play I needed to buy for my sweet niece to sleep in! Fate.

4:00, Williams Sonoma: Sprinkles cupcake mix (red velvet, my favorite!) AND Sarabeth's Strawberry Rhubarb jam??! The EXACT flavor I've been wanting to try??! Fate again!

4:07, Bath and Body Works: Sale on the soap I wanted to buy! Do I really have to say it? The shopping gods love me today.

4:15, Barnes and Noble: Squashy armchair free for me to sit in and read books I have no intention of buying? Hallelujah!

5:28, Ulta: Early for my appointment but I'll just read this magazine

5:35: Sit in chair and tell stylist "Make me a BLONDE again!"

5:45: La la la I'm going to be blonnnnnnndddddde!

5:47: Hmm. She's still working on the same hemisphere. How long does a partial highlight take here?

5:55: STILL working on the first of 3 sections of hair. I know I have a lot of luscious Italian hair, but really.

6:08: Sigh. Finally moved onto another section. Really hope I don't end up with one side of BLONNNNNDDDDE hair, one side of BLONDE hair and one side of blonde hair.

6:10: How is Jessica Biel on the cover of Vogue? What exactly is she promoting? Has she even worked in the last year?

6:11: OMG Katie Holmes is playing Jackie O in a movie??! The only thing worse than that was having to hear her warble "On My Own" from Les Miz like a cat in heat on Dawson's Creek. Oh, and watch her unsuccessfully attempt to dance and sing on SYTYCD. I guess when you agree to be a beard for Tom Cruise you feel you've earned the right to pretty much do whatever else you want.

6:37: She has finally reached the last section of hair and left me to set. Woo hoo! Won't be long now! I mean, since the dye has been on for an hour (on some parts at least) and my hair usually takes pretty quickly.

6:49: Still waiting...

7:03: Where is she? Shouldn't she at least come and check? I'm done with People and Vogue. My phone has died. I am BORED.

7:08: She has checked and it's apparently not ready. Everything really does move slower in the South. Even hair processing time. Although this IS the first time in a LONG time that I am having highlights put onto my actual natural hair. That may have something to do with it.

7:09: She has disappeared again presumably to the break room to text her boyfriend about how she's so bored and can't wait for her last client (me) to be done. That makes two of us, sweetheart.

7:15: She decided that it's finally time to put me under the dryer because gee, this is processing kinda slow!

7:17: La la la I love being under the dryer! I like to lean my head from side to side and listen to the foils crunch!

7:22: I could really use a massaging chair and maybe a foot rest and oooh a little tropical drink with an umbrella and maybe someone to fan me off and feed me grapes...Now that is a good idea for a salon!

7:35: Hurray! The hair is rinsed, I should be out of here in no time!

7:37: OOOWWWWW! Ow ow ow ow ow OW OWWW! Okay, I have a tough scalp so what the F is she combing my hair with? A lint roller?

7:42: This is the most painful blow dry I have ever had. She is inadvertently teasing my hair like a New Jersey hooker's as she dries it.

7:49: Hairdresser: "So...do you usually use conditioner?" F*@$. Well now I know why my hair is the most tangled it has ever been. This professional hair dresser didn't put conditioner in it after lightening it. Wow. Just wow. There are no words.

8:03: Done! After she put some product in it and brushed the poofiness out, it looks great! I guess sometimes beauty is pain.

8:05: La la la la la! I keep looking at myself in my rear view mirror. Being blonde again is like putting little rays of sunshine right there on my head. I feel happy! I feel euphoric! Maybe the bleach seeped into my brain cells...Oh well! Who cares? You don't have to be smart when you're a blonde! No one expects you to be anyway! Just kidding...sort of.

Class of... Aw, Crap I'm Getting Old

I am officially old. There, I said it. It's interesting how much things can change in such a short time. I had a thought the other night, when the radio was playing the late-night "club music": I have no desire to go clubbing. NONE. When did this happen? All I could think was it would be so much more fun (and not to mention cheaper) to hang out and drink wine at my house (maybe play a little Wii or Guitar Hero) then go to a nightclub. I hate crowds and waiting in line, only to have to pay a cover charge and buy expensive, watered-down drinks. I mean, this isn't to say I wouldn't ever go to a club. Hardly. I know I'd have fun, and I do love dancing. But gone is the desire to hit up the club scene 4 nights a week. Here's what it's like in your early 20's: Wednesday: it's Industry Night! Thursday: It's almost the weekend! Friday and Saturday: it is the weekend, duh! If you don't go out on these nights you are a LOSER!! Oh wait...It's Saturday night, and I am staying home watching Netflix and blogging. By choice. Huh. See, I didn't even realize this was happening.

Another sign I am getting old is not really so much a "sign" but a FACT-the fact that I graduated high school 10 years ago. TEN YEARS AGO. Old biddy. I also may or may not have found a hair of questionable color on my head. REALLY old biddy. There's no way to tell for sure though, seeing as how I ripped it out of my scalp immediately and went straight into denial. I'm SURE it was just a natural highlight. This is what I get for letting my natural hair color grow out.

This segued into thinking about class reunions, because I suppose this means I am about to have one, but I realized that Facebook has sort of defeated the purpose of reunions. I may not have seen many of my classmates in person in the last 10 years, but I've seen most of their profiles and pictures and status feeds, enough to know how everyone's doing. Do I really need to fly across the country to confirm they're not lying or photoshopping? I suppose it has the potential to be fun, though, but I'm not sure I want to be reminded so vividly just how old I'm really getting. And I have to be honest, the real reason I'd have any interest in going back to Roseville is Mikuni. The BEST sushi restaurant in the UNIVERSE. Perhaps if the RHS Class of 2000 reunion committee concedes to host the party AT Mikuni...well, then I really wouldn't be able to say no. OR if they hosted it at the new Harry Potter theme park! Now THERE'S a plan. It's a little far away from Sactown, but seriously. I'd enjoy myself, and really isn't that all that matters?

Jolly Good

Sometimes when I'm bored, I like to book imaginary trips online. As in, I will check the prices of plane tickets and hotels for random dates, and sometimes I like to check and see what shows will be in town (if it's a Faux York trip, for example, what's new on Broadway!) and decide which restaurants and shops I want to visit. You know, just to get a feel for what this vacation would really be like if we were to actually go on it. What? It's normal. And in case you were wondering, there is no good or bad time to go to Disney World. The hotel prices really don't change that much! And HELLO it's Disney World. Anyway, besides Disney World, which I frequently imagine trips to, I would give anything to go back to Europe again. There are so many places I haven't seen; but then on the other hand, I can't imagine going all the way there without stopping in Paris and London again. Paris is my favorite city in the world (that I've been to, anyway) and I really have this inexplicable affinity for London as well. I love London! I want to live in London! I want to ride the tube and pop on over to Claridge's for high tea and say hello to the constable and the barrister and then pip pip cheerio on down the high street! Jolly good! I don't know why I'm suddenly in a Charles Dickens hallucination, but you get my point.

It all reminds me of a conversation I had awhile back with my sister.

Sister: Sometimes I really miss living in London.
Me: *thoughtful sigh* I miss London too!
Sister: Right...But you never actually lived there
Me: *dismissively* Minor detail.

But I mean, seriously, sometimes I really miss it there! Which makes me wonder. Can you really miss a place in which you have spent approximately 2 weeks (not even consecutively)? I mean clearly, I have an overactive imagination. So in my head I've spent quite a bit more time than two measly weeks there, especially when you think of all the books, movies, and online adventures I've had. Or... maybe I was Queen Elizabeth in a past life. Then I'd obviously feel a draw to the country I helped shape. Duh. Yes, the more I think about it, I think that is the obvious conclusion for why I love British things, people and places. They are MY people... And things... and places. Right. Jolly good! Well...Carry on, then!

When In Doubt, Blame The Cat

Our recent move to North Carolina has been interesting to say the least. A mini roller coaster if you will. Okay, maybe not quite a roller coaster but more like Pirates of the Caribbean; everything's pretty much smooth sailing save for a couple of drop offs here and there.

Let me explain. In securing a place to live, we had to fight for the one we wanted to the death. They weren't keen on letting pets in, you see. Michael had to play his best poker face and we walked, well drove hundreds of miles, away and awaited our fate. But eventually they gave in and allowed us to have our sweet, adorable, hellacious little kitties. Small bump one: success!

Then we had a horrendous time trying to get in contact with the leasing office to get our lease signed and deposit paid (as we were doing all of this in another state, it was quite stressful), but again everything worked out fine and we got to move in to our beautiful new home.

This is when we found out that sometimes, things most of us take for granted as being included in a home, are considered superfluous and unnecessary to others. Like blinds, for example. Yes our lovely new home with windows and sliding doors in every room was not equipped with blinds. In trying to get permission to put some up (for you know, privacy) we came to discover that our landlords were aware of this, they were just "anti-blinds." But they reluctantly agreed to let us put some up as long as we paid for them and left them here when we move out. For "anti-blinds" people they sure were quick to allow us to leave them behind. But I digress.

In putting up the last of the vertical blinds in one of the guest rooms we discovered something else quite unpleasant. There was an odor quickly overtaking the room and permeating our lungs with its stench. Looking around, we saw that the litter box was in the room and I had just turned the fan on, so we thought maybe some used litter had flown about. We quickly moved the offending box downstairs but the stench lived on. Then we realized that the only explanation was that our precious angels of darkness must have coated the room down with a nice sheen of piss. We frantically tried to discover the point of origin, sniffing every square inch of carpet on our hands and knees, but to no avail. Eventually, after me scrubbing the entire carpet with Oxi-clean, and airing the room out all weekend, we had to call a professional. They couldn't come until Friday. Super! So we spent an entire week alternately cursing the piss painting minions of satan, and then guiltily showering them with love and affection. Finally the carpet cleaners arrived only to tell us that it was 100% not them. Whoops. Sorry, kitties! We love you, you sweet little baby angels!

Unable to locate the source of the offending odor, we still shelled out 75 bucks to get it cleaned because we just couldn't take it anymore. The awesome cleaning company even came back the next day and put an extra coat of cleaner on it free of charge.

Two days later Michael comes to me looking equal parts amused and pissed off. He knows what the smell is.

It's the godforsaken BLINDS. The blinds we had to buy and install into our rental. For the love of all things holy. We're going to have to buy those cats the biggest bag of Greenies Treats known to mankind.

I Love You, Bethenny Frankel

Alright, so if you don't watch The Real Housewives of NYC then I'm pretty much useless to you tonight.

I was watching my DVR'd rendition of last night's episode and I got about halfway through when I thought to myself "Wow, I am rather enjoying this episode in a way that is new and different. What could it be, self, what could it BE?" and then it hit me: Kelly "I'm-Better-Than-You" Bensimon had been absent from the entire episode thus far. Ah, that was the breath of fresh air I was looking for! I mean, I really cannot stand that brand of batshit crazy. Don't get me wrong, there are some trainwrecks I am happy to sit through. Like Heidi Montag or Kristin Cavallari. First of all, I only have to take them in 30 min increments, and second of all they are about 25% the amount of crazy that Kelly brings to the table. I mean her rant on how PETA isn't against wearing fur and it is her right as an American anyway was just so all over the place that I needed a tranquilizer and a Xanax just to get through it. Or tonight when she muttered something about how the messenger always gets shot in literature...I'm not even thoroughly convinced she knows what literature is much less that she's read anything besides advertisements in Vogue.

Then, she finally made an appearance on last night's episode and it was like the heavens parted just to make way for such a treat of stupidity and horrendousness that I let out an audible cry of joy. WHAT. In the name of all things holy. WAS. SHE. WEARING?! She showed up to a launch of a skincare line in....wait for it....the shorts from her old Hooters uniform..??!!?! At least that is what they looked like. Uncannily. And really I wouldn't put it past her. Then I realized it. THIS is what Kelly is good for! Last week she wore a lace T-shirt as a dress to her own party, and this week we get Hooters shorts at Ramona's. If she conceded to merely show up at events wearing wildly inappropriate outfits then I could really get behind her being on this show. Otherwise I fail to see her relevance. Beyond general craziness and incoherence of course.

***I just have to add now that after watching Watch What Happens Live, Simon (Alex's husband) summed it up perfectly:
When asked if he had male friends he said "Of course I do. Believe it or not we shoot pool....And drink beer and eat chicken wings...now who does that remind me of...Ah, Kelly!" Never been a big Simon fan but if you watch the show you'll know that THAT was funny.

Go, Team!

Okay, so I was watching The Hills tonight, and I got to thinking about "teams." You know, like when Brad and Jen broke up and we were all "Team Aniston!" (or at least you should have been). So I was thinking about all the "teams" I have subconsciously joined over the past few years.

First there's Team Aniston because, duh. Then there's Team Reese. And of course Team Sandra, like there was ever any question. And even Team Elin.

Now, on The Hills I have to say I am Team Heidi's Mom all the way. She tells her girl how it is, even if she doesn't listen. "Hi, daughter, your boyfriend/fiance/husband is a complete douchebag. Just wanted to reiterate that. Love, Mom!" Heidi's mom also plays for Team Sanity, and I hope someday that poor girl joins her wiser mama. Because really. That scene where we watched them walk away from the restaurant and Heidi's arms were crossed and we were supposed to be able to tell she was all pissed because Mom Just Doesn't Understand and all, well, judging from Heidi's motionless expression, she could have just as easily been elated, surprised, or constipated; it's really hard to tell with that new face.




Also on The Hills (I know, I need to start watching new shows) I have to say I am Team Kristin. Those other girls aren't her real friends and since when have she and Audrina gotten along? Oh, since they decided to write it into the show! Silly me. Anyway, Kristin, honestly if they were your real friends they would have talked to you in private, and in a real way if they thought you had a "problem" and not done it in such a bitchy way. You just keep telling it like it is and when the show is over, call me! We could be "friends" for realsies.

In addition, I also would like to state for the record that I am Team Bethenny ALL THE WAY. (Real Housewives of NYC for those "not in the know" and really why do you not watch this display of amazingness week after week like I do??) Sorry Jill, but you have turned into a real Mean Girl. And at 40 (and I think I'm being generous there) that is oh so unattractive. Bethenny may have her outbursts, but she usually comes from the Voice of Reason whereas Jill is just plain All About ME. So suck it Jill, and Bethenny, you too can feel free to call me too! We'll have Skinnygirl Margaritas and gossip!

Beyond these examples, I always find myself "taking sides" in television and public scenarios such as these. It's so hard not to, what with all those hard-hitting journalists like Ryan Seacrest on the job! So, little children, I have to ask on which "teams" do you find yourselves?

Isn't It Called Customer "Service" For A Reason?

Michael and I had an interesting encounter at our local Food Lion that really got me thinking about what customer service means to different people. Let me paint you a little picture...

We only have a few items in the cart, so we approach the "Express Lane." The lady in front of us is completely blocking the conveyor belt, even though all her groceries have now been scanned and bagged and her husband is paying. Michael politely asks her if he can set down the two 2-Liter Cokes in his hands onto the belt since she is, after all, not using it. She promptly ignores him. Twice. But Miracle Ear eventually moves and Michael dutifully loads everything onto the belt, while I go up to the swipe-y key pad to pay. The girl bagging groceries bags them, then lets them pile up behind her. Hesitantly, Michael begins place the bags in our cart. They have the following exchange:

Michael (Jovially): Hey-I'm kinda doing all the work here!
Bagger Chick (Whiney Southern Accent): Yeah, I know, but I don't like loading those little blue carts [like you have].
Michael (internally): Right, but isn't that, I don't know, your job?

I was pretty shocked that she would actually say that. To our faces. I have countlessly wanted to say smartass things to customers in my (many) jobs, but when you work in customer service you are expected to smile politely and apologize frequently, even if you've done nothing wrong. I've perfected the fine art of apologizing for things beyond my control.

"I'm so sorry your lucite key chain broke when you dropped it. It's totally my fault for the shoddy craftsmanship of a breakable substance being dropped on the ground. Let me give you a brand new one, free of charge!!"

"I am so sorry your ribeye steak had pieces of fat on it. Let me apologize profusely for a fatty piece of meat being fatty and get you a new one, free of charge!"

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry your white leather handbag got dirty when you placed it in a puddle of red wine. Obviously this is our fault and I will have it cleaned for you, FREE OF CHARGE!!! THANK YOU, COME AGAIN!!"

I've spent half my life apologizing profusely for things I had nothing to do with, so it really miffs me when somebody working in customer service blatantly disregards their duties and does so with no apologies. I'm wondering if this is perhaps me coming from California to a small town community...? Or an isolated incident? Stay tuned...

'Splain Yourself

I still remember when I first discovered I Love Lucy. It was right around the same time that I realized that staying home sick from school totally rules. You see, I had the stomach flu and had to stay home for a week. I spent the whole time curled up on the couch, under the afghan watching daytime television. That's when I discovered Lucy. My long lost best friend. I so wanted to be friends with her and Ethel. I mean HELLO that Carolyn Applebee was a total bitch and did not deserve to be their friend. I would've held the crowbar while Lucy pried John Wayne's footprints out of the sidewalk. I could've taught Lucy ballet and helped her finally get to be in Ricky's show. And if she stuck with me she'd have a way higher tolerance and wouldn't have gotten drunk on a few measly sips of Vitameatavegemin. Sigh. I guess I was just born about 50 years too late for that one. But I have a running list of characters that I would want in my circle of friends and Lucy (and Ethel) will always be at the top. Among the others are Sophia Petrillo, Lindsay Bluth Funke, and Rachel Green.

Mimi Starr Strikes Again

I am a Gemini. This basically means I am at liberty to act as crazy as I want and no one's allowed to say anything. It also means that my personality is like a Magic Cookie Bar; there are many delicious layers.



As my mom and sister will love to tell you, I had an alter ego in the first grade. I decided that I was unsatisfied with my boring name, and was going to change it to Mimi Starr. Two Rs. Mimi was the name of my beloved Hot Looks doll. Starr was...I don't know. Whatever. I decided to instate said name change by writing it on my school papers. In the bottom right corner I'd still put my real name. I figured it was a great way to phase it out, plus I obviously wanted credit for my work. Duh. I don't know what ever made me stop, probably my teacher asking my mom if I was having an identity crisis or something.

I find it interesting that a shy little girl like me would want to be named something as flamboyant as Mimi Starr. I mean, it does sound like it could be the name of a contestant in RuPaul's Drag Race. Am I right? Or maybe a contestant on Toddlers and Tiaras. Mimi Starr would be the one jumping out of a life sized jewelry box dressed as a Bob Mackie inspired ballerina for the "Wow Wear" portion of competition. (Clearly I've given this some thought)

And so in thinking about the whole Identity Crisis of 1988, I realized that I had that strange Gemini quality of being rather shy socially, but loving to perform on stage. I was mostly mild mannered, but cross me and I'd cut a bitch. Just kidding. Maybe. Laugh all you want at the whole astrology thing, but consider this: Courteney Cox and I have the same birthday. She has not once, but twice worn things on her shows that I myself own. Coincidence? Pssssh, I think not. If sharing the same taste in fashion doesn't prove astrology right, well then, I don't know what will, kids.

It's Britney, Bitch

I was leaving the tanning salon today, and it was a beautiful, sunny day. There was only one thing that could capture my mood properly. A little Britney Spears in my life. So I grabbed my iPod, found the Britney playlist and put it on shuffle. Cruising down the highway with the sunroof down, I bopped along happily, and as "Me Against the Music" came on, I suddenly had a very vivid memory that made me laugh. You know how certain songs or smells can bring you back to specific memories that you associate with them? Well, usually when I hear that song I think about going to the Beachcomber with my friends from Point Loma and requesting that song, I don't know why, I guess because that was back when it first came out. But suddenly I remembered a whole different scenario, and it brought back some truly great memories.

When I lived in LA, my roommate Heather and I used to go to East West, a gay bar in West Hollywood (actually, calling a bar "gay" in West Hollywood is sort of redundant, but that is neither her nor there) every Tuesday night for karaoke. Now, I have always been a fan of karaoke. It's fun and silly, especially after a handful couple of drinks. But I have never had as much fun going to karaoke as I have had at East West. I would generally consider it an upscale place, $12 cocktails, classy decor and candles that smelled mind-alteringly heavenly. But when Tuesday nights rolled around (and our crowd rolled in) it was raucous and goofy and much much more immature. If you have never been to karaoke, this is where you should go. Besides our crazy asses, the other regulars were quite the glorious sight to behold. If anyone knows how to do karaoke right, it's Gay Hollywood. It is on a whole different level. Some people took themselves very, very seriously. And others, well, it was unsure to tell if they were serious or not. Like the guy who came in early with his own costumes and sets and sang "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid in full regalia. It was all kinds of awesome.

And then there was Heather and I. Heather, who is the biggest Renthead I know, and I, with the borderline unhealthy obsession with Britney Spears. I think you might see where I'm going with this. Heather would usually belt out "Out Tonight" from Rent as well as various other Broadway tunes, and I would always, always sing Britney. The karaoke host got to know us pretty well, and I think it's safe to say he liked us.

Now, part of my obsession with Britney has involved learning her dances over the years. I'm quite proud of how well that time and effort paid off. Fast forward to one Tuesday night at East West when I made a throwaway comment about this and how I wished there was a headset microphone (like Brit Brit uses) and the karaoke host's eyes lit up. Oh yes. He had one. Cue the music! I then proceeded to do the entire "I'm A Slave 4 U" routine, song, dance and all. Oh yes I did. After this amazing display of greatness one of the other bar patrons approached me and said he wanted to do "Me Against the Music" with me. I of course was thrilled (yet obviously not surprised after that performance) that someone wanted to duet with me, to be the Madonna to my Britney, so I happily obliged. That's when he did it. The little twink actually had the nerve to do it.

Twink: "Okay, great! So I'll be Britney and you'll be Madonna!"
Me:*stares incredulously* "Excuse me?"
Pushy Little Twink: "Well I'm always Britney!"
Me: "Oh honey, no. I'm Britney, bitch! Come back to me when you realize that."

And that, little children, is how Britney came up with her catchphrase "It's Britney, bitch."

Okay, that may not be entirely true. But I'd like to think so.

I Do Many Things Well. None Which Generate Income.

I've been thinking lately about what I might do for work when we move to North Carolina next week. For the last year I have had the joy of realizing my lifelong dream of being Lucy Ricardo. And as wonderful and fulfilling as it has been, there is something hanging over our heads that has drawn us to the conclusion that I must return to the workforce: that really expensive college education that I insisted upon getting. It has come to my attention that perhaps I could've saved a lot of money and trouble if I'd have just dropped out years ago and never bothered finishing. But alas, I really felt that it was important for me to be college educated. Idiot. Now I have my Bachelor's degree, but no relevant work experience and some lovely student loan debt. So basically, I've spent a lot of time and money to be qualified to do exactly what I've been doing for the last 10 years: restaurants and retail. Except now we're moving to a somewhat rural part of the country and in this market it's slllliiiimmmm pickings out there.

So now what? What's a girl like me to do for work? I'd really love to be paid to do nothing, but I've never been able to figure out how to bring that stroke of genius into fruition. Or, if I could be paid to just GTL all day that'd be great. But again, I'm not sure how to make that happen. I could illegally sublet rooms in our new beach condo to my friends and family who want to come visit. I mean really. Beach rentals cost per week what we pay per month. I could offer a generous discount of a couple hundred dollars and really be raking it in. But that won't work because Michael doesn't want to do anything illegal (prude) and strangely, none of my friends or family seem all that keen on visiting now that I've brought up that plan. What is that about?

Sigh. I'm sure I can find something to do with myself, let's just hope it's something that offers incredibly generous pay for very little work. I'd appreciate your good thoughts and/or prayers on that one.

Back to School

I found myself reflecting on "back to school" season today. It was equal parts my favorite and most dreaded part of the year. I dreaded the end of summer, but I truly loved the back to school shopping that would occur every August.

I loved going to Miller's Outpost and getting a new outfit every year. Usually it was a head-to-toe matching ensemble complete with matching scrunchie and colored Keds. If I was really lucky, I had received a new Esprit outfit for my birthday (which is in June, and therefore anything I got for my birthday was new for the school year) and maybe a kicky pair of shorts from 5-7-9.

But beyond the new outfits, the thing I miss the most about back to school season is the new school supplies. For some reason when I think back to school I think Molly McIntire, American Girl. I think it's because in fifth grade I got the Molly school bag, and I felt so badass. It was a plaid messenger bag in the 1940's style Molly wore, and no one had anything like it. Everyone else had their Jansport backpacks in assorted colors, but not me. I had a slight obsession with the American Girl dolls (though I of course had Kirsten Larsen, the Swedish immigrant) and I loved the things you could buy for yourself to match the dolls. Among Molly's backpack I owned the matching nightgown to my Kirsten doll's, and Samantha Parkington's dress and high button boots . But I digress.

There are two back to school things I had a sudden urge to go out and buy today, and admittedly would if they were readily available. First and foremost, a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. And maybe some scratch and sniff stickers to stick on it. I mean, I'm sorry but we had the best crap in the 80's and early 90's. I'd take a Trapper Keeper and a session of Oregon Trail over the lame 3-ring binders and whatever high tech games the kids play today. Not to mention our amazing toys: He-Man/ She-ra, Teddy Ruxpin, My Buddy/ Kid Sister, Hot Looks, and RAINBOW BRITE (hello!) just to name a few. Which brings me to the next item I wish I could buy: a Barbie and the Rockers lunch box like the one I had in the 80's. I really wish I had saved some of this amazing memorabilia.

I can't remember when back to school shopping came to an end...I suppose it must have been college, when I'd just buy supplies from the bookstore as I needed them. But I'd give anything to go shopping with my mom for some Lisa Frank pencils and smelly erasers right about now.

Dear Butchers of the English Language

There's no M in valentine

There's no X in escape

There's no B in supposedly

There's no X is ask

There's no L in frustrate

There's "would have" and "would've" but no "would of"

There's so many more I'm sure I'm forgetting. Therefore you may direct further questions here.

And have yourself a very happy ValentiNe's Day! ♥

Official "Apples Are Better Than PCs" Post, or "Ode to Apple"

Considering my feelings about the gloriousness of both my iMac and iBook, it is a wonder I haven't put my feelings on...screen sooner. I have owned no less than 4 PCs in 8 years before inheriting my iBook from my generous father 2 years ago. I should also point out that this iBook is now 6 years old and still running like a champ. The only problem I have had in the 2 years of owning it is the battery has pretty much crapped out on me, but I am too cheap/lazy to buy a new one until I really need it. So I have to leave it plugged in if I'm using it for more than a couple of hours. On a computer that is 6 years old, I'd say that's to be expected. And let me repeat myself: this is the only problem I have had with it.

Each of my PCs crashed out on me multiple times; viruses galore would cause the internet to stop working, or windows I had open would mysteriously close themselves whenever they felt like it. But my beautiful Mac is still virus free. Doing the math, each of my PCs lasted for approximately 2 years before needing to be replaced. Each one was new when I got it. They crashed for different reasons; I'm sure my first one, which I got for college, crashed because of all the music I illegally downloaded, and the file sharing I did on campus with every other computer. However, had I had a Mac at the time, I think it's safe to say the problem would be drastically less if not nonexistent.

To the people who think Macs are too hard to navigate: you have obviously never really tried using a Mac. Everything is so simple it's laughable. I think of a commercial that is running right now in which the full minute is devoted to showing how "easy" the Geek Squad makes things. The action the Geek Squad is performing is setting up a printer on a PC. This takes the entire commercial to complete (if not longer in real life) while the woman in the commercial is pretending to use magical powers to make it happen as the Geek Squad dials in and does it for her.

The point is, all this commercial does is reiterate to me how difficult it is to set up a printer on a PC.

On a Mac, you don't even have to set up printers. All you do is plug it in, hit "print" on whatever it is you want to print, and the Mac finds the printer itself. In nanoseconds. And I'd like to point out that this is any kind of printer, it does not have to be an Apple; I have an HP printer and it was this simple.

I have finally converted Michael into a Maclover too. His Dell had crashed, he spent hundreds of dollars getting it fixed, and within a couple of months it crashed again. I'm talking you couldn't even open it in "safe mode" kind of crashed. He wanted to pay to get it fixed again, but after much convincing, I talked him into buying a glorious new iMac. Once you go Mac you never go back! He is officially in love. He becomes incredulous when someone we know has a PC, or especially when someone has the audacity to claim not to like Macs. He knows as well as I do that these people have obviously never properly used one.

If you are reading this, and you "are a PC" (as the commercials for Windows 7 say), please feel free to come over to our house anytime. We will read you the Gospel of Mac and convert you faster than you can say Snow Leopard.

Check It.

I've decided to be known as a personal chef now, because it's not a lie. I am Michael's personal chef. Anyway, read this my peeps!

Sign of the Times?

When it comes to movies and television, I'm not that difficult a person to please. I'm admittedly and avid watcher of The Suite Life on the Disney Channel (London Tipton is one of my all time favorite characters), and my favorite movies include Center Stage and Spice World. So when I received the 2009 remake of Fame from Netflix, I was expecting to enjoy it.

I turned it off before it was even over. I hardly ever do that. My innate curiosity almost always causes me to want to see what happens, even if I'm not that into a movie. And hello, a movie about a performing arts high school is sure to be right up my alley! Instead, I opted to turn it off because I was more interested in continuing reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone...which I have read at least five times already.

But Fame was so boring I didn't even care. The dancing was lackluster and the need to turn every performing art movie into some sort of hip hop these days was such a huge turnoff. Step Up was fine, Step Up 2 Tha Streetzzz not so much. Maybe I like classical dance. Maybe I appreciate Shakespeare. Why does "modernizing" a movie mean Shakespeare performed as a rap or ballet performed to hip hop music? (Save the Last Dance is probably the only other dance movie that I hated for that reason) Is this something I have to accept as a sign of the times? I'm truly starting to believe I was born in the wrong generation. Everything seems to be dumbed down in order to get the youth of today to watch it. Maybe they're just all too busy "twittering" about their inane lives to pay attention to a movie with any character development or dialogue that requires a full attention span.

Sigh. I'm going to go put Fame back in the mail and just pretend it never happened. Next on the list: Secret Diary of a Call Girl, disc 2. See? I told you I'm not hard to please.

Honestly. *update!*

I was about to retire for the evening, when I came across this "news" story:

Is Katy Perry Pregnant? (click on link)

I'm sorry. WHAT? So let me get this straight. Katy Perry "twittered" that 2010 is "bumpin", that she wants In N Out, and joked to her fiance "I heard ur prego-ed" therefore she is fueling rumors that she is pregnant??!

Nothing annoys me more than these obnoxious entertainment "news" stories. Like on Entertainment Tonight and Inside Edition, they will run headlines such as: "Is Elin Woods wearing her wedding ring again?" and then at the end of the show they'll reveal the picture and it's of her twin sister. With her husband standing next to her. And just to be sure, they'll show a picture taken of Elin the same day in another country. A picture they've obviously had all along and therefore knew that they were creating a story out of nothing. Or E! News has their segment "So True/So False" where they will make up a rumor about a celebrity and then tell you it's not true. What is this world coming to? Can someone please tell me how this useless crap qualifies as news anyway?

Let's recap. Katy Perry is in India, and commented to her friends in LA (where the New Year hadn't yet occurred) that 2010 is bumpin' , and she discusses a food item she wants but can't have because she is in another country, so the obvious conclusion we should draw is that she's pregnant.

Just checking.


*Update*
Katy Perry finally had to spell out in black and white (and...red?) that she is not pregnant. Is that clear enough for you, media?

Viva La Montecito

I realize that if my greatest concern is what's real, then I probably shouldn't be watching a television show about a fictitious casino on the Vegas strip, but I have to say that my guilty pleasure, Las Vegas, has some moments which question my ability to suspend disbelief. Mary, Delinda, and Sam walking around at 9 o'clock in the morning wearing corsets and sequined miniskirts? I'll buy that. It's Vegas, baby! Their real life counterparts generally wear nice suits to work, but who wants to see that on TV? I get it. Danny, Ed and Mike chasing down criminals themselves, behind Vegas PD's back? Okay, I laugh a lot at these moments, and sometimes even severe eye rolling and "come on"s are involved. I mean wow, their camera equipment sure is high tech. I'd bet the FBI would kill for the Montecito's technology. And how many times can Delinda and Sam be kidnapped? Speaking of Delinda, can I just say that Delinda Deline might be one of the greatest character names ever. I mean really. Nonetheless, I enjoy all the ridiculousness as much as I enjoy Nessa's terrible wigs.

It's former Marine Danny McCoy that sometimes rubs me the wrong way. Don't get me wrong, I very much love the character with the exception of when he was dating Mary. She's so whiney and annoying, I much prefer him with Delinda. Anyway, the thing that bothers me about him is the thing that bothers me in a lot of things, which is to say, not doing proper research and execution. I ask you, would it be so hard for him to have a proper Marine haircut for when he gets called back to the fleet? Seeing him with his long hair in his uniform made me positively squirm. As did seeing him with a beard when he came back. I realize most people wouldn't be bothered by this, but it's like when my favorite literary characters are glaringly miscast in the movie versions. I mean, come on, is it really that hard to be accurate? I don't think so.

On another note, casting McSteamy as Danny's replacement while in Iraq? Genius.