Ah, Jane Austen. If only I lived in your time. I would live in the English countryside, my time would be spent drinking tea and learning frivolous girly things. I could read books all day and take long beautiful walks to clear my head. My wit, intelligence and charm would then make me the object of a wealthy and dashing man's affection and after many obstacles we would marry and return to our beautiful estate. Sigh. Why oh why can't life really be like this? Okay, so women in Jane Austen's time also had to depend on men for everything, they couldn't inherit anything, and their future depended on making a good marriage--whether there was love involved or not, but still I prefer to imagine it as Jane wrote it and therefore I would like to reside in that time period--begining immediately.
Last night before I sat down to watch AI with my bestie her brother did an analysis of my handwriting--don't scoff, it was actually quite accurate. According to the analysis I was intelligent and creative (duh!), but I also put up imaginary walls and barriers and I tended to quit when the going go tough. I agreed with the analysis, and my bestie's brother reminded me that just because I had the tendency to put up walls and quit when things got tough did not mean that I would be that way forever. I could change it if I wanted to. Today, the theory was put to the test. I won't go in to the gory details, but I was planning on going to Europe next spring and something happened today (not life or death stuff) that put my trip on the back burner (again). I got really angry and bitter immediately. I started to talk my self out of my first gym appointment, I wanted to eat, I want to buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke it--I wanted to wallow in my anger and whine about life's unfairness. I wanted to indulge my self pity and remind myself that it didn't matter how much I tried--I was never going to catch a break.
Then I had another thought--what if I didn't give in? What if I didn't skip the gym? What if I didn't decide to buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke? What would happen if I didn't indulge my childish self pity for once? So I didn't. I didn't give in, I didn't skip my gym appointment, I didn't buy cigarettes and while I still feel the sting putting Europe on the backburner I am not indulging my self pity--instead I am going on with my life. Yes, I am bummed, but I am not defeated. Maybe I am being tested to see if I can resist the urge to give up and maybe if I pass the test Europe will work out after all. Maybe Europe won't work out for next spring, but maybe I am meant to go at a different time. Maybe I'm just supposed to learn what it means to be an adult and a lady and accept the circumstances gracefully. I will say this. I don't like it, but I accept it, and I believe that God has a plan for me, and I have faith that while I may get angry and bitter at certain points that it will all be worth it in the end. So there. I am trying to stay positive. Ha Ha self defeat...
I really hope that Lil goes on AI tonight. There are some songs you just don't mess with and "The Rose" is one of them. I feel bad that the judges always hammer her, but last night I kind of agreed with them. I also hate that only two of them talked--I think that Paula should only be allowed to talk every other turn or two so that we can always hear what the other three coherent members have to say :)
Boys Before Flowers ended a few weeks ago--I'm sad. I keep watching episodes of it. Maybe when I am at the Cherry Blossom festival this weekend they'll be there. It's like an Asian festival and they're Asian so you know, it could happen. Of course it's a Japanese festival and they're Korean, but it could happen--at least in my mind.
Ah well, dear readers, off to dinner the parentals. Lets hope its good.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Harems...
Dictionary.com defines a harem as the following: The wives, concubines, female relatives, and servants occupying such a place.
Okay, so I am Catholic, and a woman, but today I decided that I need a harem. And a palace for my harem and myself. My harem would be composed of men. Wonderful, beautiful men that would be at my beck and call. The members of my harem that would live in my palace are as follows:
1. Lee Min-ho: You're pretty. I like you.
2. Kim HyunJoong: You're also pretty. You would have to sing to me when I demanded it. And you would have to translate your Korean songs to English so I could sing along to more than just the two lines of English. Bring your guitar.
3. Kim Bum: No singing. Your responsiblities would include things that cannot be discussed in polite company.
4. Anoop Desai: You're a cutie. I like cuteness sometimes, and you would complement the prettiness of the aforementioned members.
5. James Marsters: Bleach out your hair again, and be ready to sing "Rest In Peace" on demand. I don't want to hear any of your other crappy songs. You would share your responsibilities with Kim Bum.
6. Taye Diggs: Your wife, Idina Menzel, can visit you. She would have to stay in the harem portion of the palace while you were busy with me. We may be very busy, very often.
7. Juanes: Your wife can also visit. She can keep Idina company while we're busy. Again we will be busy very often. When I have had a crappy day you will immediately come to see me and sing "No Creo En El Jamas".
8. Robbie Williams: You're super hot. You must sing "Angels" when I demand it. You will be busy often, likely, repeatedly over a period of 24 hours.
9. Shemar Moore: You will wear your gun--and that's all. It does not matter what you are doing, a gun is the only "clothing" you are allowed.
10. Matthew Gray Gubler: Talk nerdy to me. I love it.
So this dear readers is my varied and multicultural harem. I now return to reality or maybe I'll take a nap and put reality off just a little longer :)
Okay, so I am Catholic, and a woman, but today I decided that I need a harem. And a palace for my harem and myself. My harem would be composed of men. Wonderful, beautiful men that would be at my beck and call. The members of my harem that would live in my palace are as follows:
1. Lee Min-ho: You're pretty. I like you.
2. Kim HyunJoong: You're also pretty. You would have to sing to me when I demanded it. And you would have to translate your Korean songs to English so I could sing along to more than just the two lines of English. Bring your guitar.
3. Kim Bum: No singing. Your responsiblities would include things that cannot be discussed in polite company.
4. Anoop Desai: You're a cutie. I like cuteness sometimes, and you would complement the prettiness of the aforementioned members.
5. James Marsters: Bleach out your hair again, and be ready to sing "Rest In Peace" on demand. I don't want to hear any of your other crappy songs. You would share your responsibilities with Kim Bum.
6. Taye Diggs: Your wife, Idina Menzel, can visit you. She would have to stay in the harem portion of the palace while you were busy with me. We may be very busy, very often.
7. Juanes: Your wife can also visit. She can keep Idina company while we're busy. Again we will be busy very often. When I have had a crappy day you will immediately come to see me and sing "No Creo En El Jamas".
8. Robbie Williams: You're super hot. You must sing "Angels" when I demand it. You will be busy often, likely, repeatedly over a period of 24 hours.
9. Shemar Moore: You will wear your gun--and that's all. It does not matter what you are doing, a gun is the only "clothing" you are allowed.
10. Matthew Gray Gubler: Talk nerdy to me. I love it.
So this dear readers is my varied and multicultural harem. I now return to reality or maybe I'll take a nap and put reality off just a little longer :)
Monday, March 16, 2009
My favorite word...
I am an educated woman. I hold a degree from San Francisco State University in English Literature. My favorite word in the English language is fuck. There I said. I fully admit it. Hate me if you must.
I say my favorite word often, attaching many words to it such as: fucking bitch, fucking whore, fuck me!, fucking a!, and my personal favorite that I got from the movie "Heathers" Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I utter my favorite word often over the progression of a day--many times in my head due to my job, however, when I don't have to hold it back, I don't. I like that so many people find the word so awful and offensive and that I feel rebellious and defiant everytime it rolls off my tongue or dashes through my muddled mind.
This brings me to a story involving my best friend, The Queen, and my nephew (her son). My bestie called me on Friday and told me that my adorable, wonderful and perfect nephew had gotten in trouble at school. I asked why and she informed me that he had been watching a fight at school and then called a teacher a fucking bitch. I had three thoughts when she told me this. The first was: "Holy shit, elementary kids get in to fights now?!?!?" The second was a feeling of guilt as my bestie and I are pretty free with our language around him. The third was, was the teacher indeed a bitch? If so, my nephew should be absolved of his crime and given a medal for honesty. Truth hurts ya fucking bitch. I was steamed that he had gotten in trouble so I told my friend that she needed to speak to this woman immediately. Post haste. No one punished my nephew for uttering the truth. If she thought fucking bitch was bad out of his mouth wait until she heard what I had to tell her. Whore. Turns out the witch never even heard my nephew say the dreaded, truthful words and that it was hearsay that my nephew admitted to. I still cried foul and demanded that I be able to attend a meeting with this woman. My bestie asked me what I would do if a student had called me a fucking bitch and I told her that it had already happened. She asked me what I did. I told her that I laughed said "duh" and kept on teaching. I'm like Glinda the Good Fucking Bitch. The woman that punished my nephew is the Fucking Bitch of the West that had the evil monkeys and died from a bucket of water. Needless to say, if I ever do become a parent I may have to change my opinion, but I doubt it.
I can remember another time that my bestie and I were out at Wal-Mart, The Redneck Disneyland, and our free use of the word fuck backfired on us. My beautiful nephew was barely learning how to talk at the time and I forgot what I told The Queen. Her response? Fuck you. Less than ten seconds later we hear my nephew gurgle out "uck ou". We tried to correct him, but we were too busy laughing. Even through the giggles we tried to correct him, but I don't think he took us seriously as evidenced by his alleged insult of the teacher last week.
So, will I ever stop using the word fuck? Um, no. Will I ever curb my use of it around my nephew? Probably not, because lets face it at this point he's already attaching other words to it so it is ingrained in his vocabulary. I do vow to teach him the correct uses of it as an adjective, verb, and whatever other part of speech it fits.
The bottom line: You can take the girls out of the ghetto, but never the ghetto out of the girls. Some people might find it appalling, but my bestie and I are who we are, whether we are out at the Redneck Disneyland, at our houses watching Idol, at the park at a birthday party or at any other event in our lives. And not to get mushy, but I love my bestie more than anything because around her I never have to pretend--she is my constant and she has been for 28 years. Besides the gift of friendship she has given me the gift of being a Godmother and an Aunt. Does it really matter if we say fuck a lot and pass it on to the boys? Okay, maybe it does, but fuck it ;)
I say my favorite word often, attaching many words to it such as: fucking bitch, fucking whore, fuck me!, fucking a!, and my personal favorite that I got from the movie "Heathers" Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I utter my favorite word often over the progression of a day--many times in my head due to my job, however, when I don't have to hold it back, I don't. I like that so many people find the word so awful and offensive and that I feel rebellious and defiant everytime it rolls off my tongue or dashes through my muddled mind.
This brings me to a story involving my best friend, The Queen, and my nephew (her son). My bestie called me on Friday and told me that my adorable, wonderful and perfect nephew had gotten in trouble at school. I asked why and she informed me that he had been watching a fight at school and then called a teacher a fucking bitch. I had three thoughts when she told me this. The first was: "Holy shit, elementary kids get in to fights now?!?!?" The second was a feeling of guilt as my bestie and I are pretty free with our language around him. The third was, was the teacher indeed a bitch? If so, my nephew should be absolved of his crime and given a medal for honesty. Truth hurts ya fucking bitch. I was steamed that he had gotten in trouble so I told my friend that she needed to speak to this woman immediately. Post haste. No one punished my nephew for uttering the truth. If she thought fucking bitch was bad out of his mouth wait until she heard what I had to tell her. Whore. Turns out the witch never even heard my nephew say the dreaded, truthful words and that it was hearsay that my nephew admitted to. I still cried foul and demanded that I be able to attend a meeting with this woman. My bestie asked me what I would do if a student had called me a fucking bitch and I told her that it had already happened. She asked me what I did. I told her that I laughed said "duh" and kept on teaching. I'm like Glinda the Good Fucking Bitch. The woman that punished my nephew is the Fucking Bitch of the West that had the evil monkeys and died from a bucket of water. Needless to say, if I ever do become a parent I may have to change my opinion, but I doubt it.
I can remember another time that my bestie and I were out at Wal-Mart, The Redneck Disneyland, and our free use of the word fuck backfired on us. My beautiful nephew was barely learning how to talk at the time and I forgot what I told The Queen. Her response? Fuck you. Less than ten seconds later we hear my nephew gurgle out "uck ou". We tried to correct him, but we were too busy laughing. Even through the giggles we tried to correct him, but I don't think he took us seriously as evidenced by his alleged insult of the teacher last week.
So, will I ever stop using the word fuck? Um, no. Will I ever curb my use of it around my nephew? Probably not, because lets face it at this point he's already attaching other words to it so it is ingrained in his vocabulary. I do vow to teach him the correct uses of it as an adjective, verb, and whatever other part of speech it fits.
The bottom line: You can take the girls out of the ghetto, but never the ghetto out of the girls. Some people might find it appalling, but my bestie and I are who we are, whether we are out at the Redneck Disneyland, at our houses watching Idol, at the park at a birthday party or at any other event in our lives. And not to get mushy, but I love my bestie more than anything because around her I never have to pretend--she is my constant and she has been for 28 years. Besides the gift of friendship she has given me the gift of being a Godmother and an Aunt. Does it really matter if we say fuck a lot and pass it on to the boys? Okay, maybe it does, but fuck it ;)
Monday, March 2, 2009
Beware the Ides of March
Okay, so technically the ides of March is not until March 11th, but I think it decided to visit me early this year. No, I was not brutally stabbed by my friends while whispering "Et tu Brute?" as I crumpled to the floor of the Roman Senate, but hey it kind of felt like it. Where shall I start? Ah, yes, at the begining.
There was no new episode of BBF today. None. Zip. Zero. Zilch. We only get one new episode this week. EW. The reason? The lead actress was involved in a car accident and it delayed filming so the episode that was supposed to air tomorrow is not yet completed and therefore legions of fans will be seeing the episode that was supposed to air today, tomorrow. Remember, click it or ticket bitches. I feel horrible for the lead actress, I know how traumatizing car accidents are so I will wait (un) patiently for my two new episodes next week while she recovers. I knew in my gut that this foretold a Monday that would not be great.
Fast forward to this morning. I go through the drive through at Carls to get a breakfast sandwich and coffee. They guy at the window is moving about as quickly as a slug (did I mention I was running late?) and is schlepping around instead of giving me my food. As I drive out of the drive through and down the street to get in the stupid gate before it closes my leg feels as though it has been lit on fire in a small spot. Apparently the slug at the window had not put the correct lid on my coffee cup and I was now being scalded with very hot coffee. Great. I cuss at him while listening to the radio and proceed to illegally park at the back on the gravel and grab my stuff to go to my room. Then it happens. The lid slides off of my coffee even more and my hand and arm have now been scalded to match my leg. Hooray. The rest of the morning proceeds uneventfully until lunch.
I forgot to take my allergy and asthma meds and the weather was making it bad so on my prep I hop in to my car and head for home so that I can take them and stop feeling itchy and wheezy. I walk in to my house and I am greeted by a very happy puppy but a grandma who decides to lecture me and chew me out because the puppy dragged wood in and ground it in to the front rug. Yippee. I leave my house feeling irritated and proceed to Mickey D's to console myself. I order my hamburger with no onions because I hate them and a medium fry. As I am getting out of my car my bag tips over and my fries spill out on to the floor of my car. I was pissed. My fries were now completely unedible because my car is a disaster and the fries had been completely coated in dog hair, dust and a little bit of dirt. Gross. Instead of screaming I stomped to my classroom and waited for the bell to ring. As I opened up my burger to dig in I saw the aforementioned, loathed onions nestled happily on my hamburger bun. I scraped them off and ate my hamburger without any further incident.
Then came pre-AP. I have to give them some obligatory CAHSEE assignments and they were quite combative about it. They tried every argument they could think of to dissuade me, but I couldn't we have to do it. They grumbled and then grudingly wrote the practice essay. In the midst of it one of them asked how to spell CAHSEE. I decided to inform them that perhaps they did need the practice after all since they were not even capable of spelling the name of the test. I smiled and they silently cussed me out in their heads. Lovely.
Then came the drive home. I ended up behind every slow driving fuck wit imaginable. I still held in my scream and instead played angry Eminem songs, cussing along loudly to scare them as they looked in their rearview mirror. I think it may have worked as they sped up or got out of my way.
Now, I sit here, grandma is at home, I am in my pajamas and much calmer than I was during my Eminem tirade, but I still get only one new episode of BBF so there may be a tirade or two left in me yet.
There was no new episode of BBF today. None. Zip. Zero. Zilch. We only get one new episode this week. EW. The reason? The lead actress was involved in a car accident and it delayed filming so the episode that was supposed to air tomorrow is not yet completed and therefore legions of fans will be seeing the episode that was supposed to air today, tomorrow. Remember, click it or ticket bitches. I feel horrible for the lead actress, I know how traumatizing car accidents are so I will wait (un) patiently for my two new episodes next week while she recovers. I knew in my gut that this foretold a Monday that would not be great.
Fast forward to this morning. I go through the drive through at Carls to get a breakfast sandwich and coffee. They guy at the window is moving about as quickly as a slug (did I mention I was running late?) and is schlepping around instead of giving me my food. As I drive out of the drive through and down the street to get in the stupid gate before it closes my leg feels as though it has been lit on fire in a small spot. Apparently the slug at the window had not put the correct lid on my coffee cup and I was now being scalded with very hot coffee. Great. I cuss at him while listening to the radio and proceed to illegally park at the back on the gravel and grab my stuff to go to my room. Then it happens. The lid slides off of my coffee even more and my hand and arm have now been scalded to match my leg. Hooray. The rest of the morning proceeds uneventfully until lunch.
I forgot to take my allergy and asthma meds and the weather was making it bad so on my prep I hop in to my car and head for home so that I can take them and stop feeling itchy and wheezy. I walk in to my house and I am greeted by a very happy puppy but a grandma who decides to lecture me and chew me out because the puppy dragged wood in and ground it in to the front rug. Yippee. I leave my house feeling irritated and proceed to Mickey D's to console myself. I order my hamburger with no onions because I hate them and a medium fry. As I am getting out of my car my bag tips over and my fries spill out on to the floor of my car. I was pissed. My fries were now completely unedible because my car is a disaster and the fries had been completely coated in dog hair, dust and a little bit of dirt. Gross. Instead of screaming I stomped to my classroom and waited for the bell to ring. As I opened up my burger to dig in I saw the aforementioned, loathed onions nestled happily on my hamburger bun. I scraped them off and ate my hamburger without any further incident.
Then came pre-AP. I have to give them some obligatory CAHSEE assignments and they were quite combative about it. They tried every argument they could think of to dissuade me, but I couldn't we have to do it. They grumbled and then grudingly wrote the practice essay. In the midst of it one of them asked how to spell CAHSEE. I decided to inform them that perhaps they did need the practice after all since they were not even capable of spelling the name of the test. I smiled and they silently cussed me out in their heads. Lovely.
Then came the drive home. I ended up behind every slow driving fuck wit imaginable. I still held in my scream and instead played angry Eminem songs, cussing along loudly to scare them as they looked in their rearview mirror. I think it may have worked as they sped up or got out of my way.
Now, I sit here, grandma is at home, I am in my pajamas and much calmer than I was during my Eminem tirade, but I still get only one new episode of BBF so there may be a tirade or two left in me yet.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Pimps, hoes, and sugardaddie.com
Last night as I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up after a fun and delish Friday Night Dinner with my girls I took a break and did some channel surfing. Seriously, I should have just turned on my iPod and never turned the television on--I lost some of my faith in humanity in the short time I channel surfed.
First, I found an MSNBC special about the sex trade. It profiled the police department in Oakland, CA and what the task force does to cut down not only on prostitution, but also on helping the underaged prostitutes get away from their pimps. My stomach churned as I heard a story about a ten year old they had arrested with her thirteen year old mentor. I started to lose my dinner after they showed a seventeen year old with a giant contusion on her head she had received from "falling" i.e. her pimp kicked her ass. I couldn't stomach it after that and so I turned the channel determined to find something a little happier...
Then it happened. In the middle of looking for another channel to watch I ran across a commercial for a website entitled sugardaddie.com. It is a website that allows women and men (one of whom is allegedly "affluent") to find each other and "have adult fun". EW. It was like what I had just been watching about pimps and hoes only these men and women were not prostituting themselves for drugs or rent they were doing it for material possessions--the kind they sell at Bloomies and the Chanel boutique. I quickly turned off the television and turned my iPod on and resumed my clean up--disgusted with some of the people in the human race.
Now, don't get me wrong I love Bloomies and Chanel just as much as the next girl. It hurts that unlike most springs I am not the proud owner of a new pair of designer sunglasses or the Chanel spring line because I have a mortgage payment now, but I don't love those things more than myself or my pride and self-respect. What happened to earning what you have in life? The more I thought about it the more irritated I got.
I don't make a huge amount of money in my chosen profession, but it is enough to give myself a home and simple luxuries. I'll admit that I wince whenever I see all the stuff I can't afford anymore (Chanel makeup, Coach shoes, Coach purses, jewelry, expensive clothing, etc.), but then I get back to my house and I'm okay with it. The society that we live in is unfortunately not about being happy with what you have. It is about wanting more and getting it at all costs. I used to be like that and I still battle with that part of myself, but I am learning that it really is about being happy with what you've got and not what you don't have. I bet if some of the people (myself included) who live for material possessions would stop and take stock for a minute or two they would find that everything they truly need and truly want they very likely already have.
No, I don't have a Vuitton. I will probably never shop for clothes at Neiman Marcus. I will very likely never own a pair of Chanel shoes. But, I have my house, my family, my friends, and enough material crap from before that I don't really need anything. Everything I need is right here. That is a good thing.
First, I found an MSNBC special about the sex trade. It profiled the police department in Oakland, CA and what the task force does to cut down not only on prostitution, but also on helping the underaged prostitutes get away from their pimps. My stomach churned as I heard a story about a ten year old they had arrested with her thirteen year old mentor. I started to lose my dinner after they showed a seventeen year old with a giant contusion on her head she had received from "falling" i.e. her pimp kicked her ass. I couldn't stomach it after that and so I turned the channel determined to find something a little happier...
Then it happened. In the middle of looking for another channel to watch I ran across a commercial for a website entitled sugardaddie.com. It is a website that allows women and men (one of whom is allegedly "affluent") to find each other and "have adult fun". EW. It was like what I had just been watching about pimps and hoes only these men and women were not prostituting themselves for drugs or rent they were doing it for material possessions--the kind they sell at Bloomies and the Chanel boutique. I quickly turned off the television and turned my iPod on and resumed my clean up--disgusted with some of the people in the human race.
Now, don't get me wrong I love Bloomies and Chanel just as much as the next girl. It hurts that unlike most springs I am not the proud owner of a new pair of designer sunglasses or the Chanel spring line because I have a mortgage payment now, but I don't love those things more than myself or my pride and self-respect. What happened to earning what you have in life? The more I thought about it the more irritated I got.
I don't make a huge amount of money in my chosen profession, but it is enough to give myself a home and simple luxuries. I'll admit that I wince whenever I see all the stuff I can't afford anymore (Chanel makeup, Coach shoes, Coach purses, jewelry, expensive clothing, etc.), but then I get back to my house and I'm okay with it. The society that we live in is unfortunately not about being happy with what you have. It is about wanting more and getting it at all costs. I used to be like that and I still battle with that part of myself, but I am learning that it really is about being happy with what you've got and not what you don't have. I bet if some of the people (myself included) who live for material possessions would stop and take stock for a minute or two they would find that everything they truly need and truly want they very likely already have.
No, I don't have a Vuitton. I will probably never shop for clothes at Neiman Marcus. I will very likely never own a pair of Chanel shoes. But, I have my house, my family, my friends, and enough material crap from before that I don't really need anything. Everything I need is right here. That is a good thing.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Gu Jun Pyo vs. Ji-Hoo
Okay, so unless you are an avid (obssessed) fan of BBF (Boys Before Flowers) then you have no idea who Jun Pyo and Ji-Hoo are so for all you non-F4 folk out there I will attempt to provide a brief synopsis of each character and their significance to the protagonist Geum Jan Di.
Ji-Hoo: Super rich, a member of the F4, the most powerful clique of boys at Shinwa School. The F4 run the school and Ji-Hoo is the most level headed one of them all. His family was all killed in a car accident when he was very young and he retreated in to a deep depression until Seo Min Hyun brought him out of the dark. Needless to say that, in true soap opera form, Seo Min, is Ji-Hoo's first love who he ends up following to Paris. Ji-Hoo comes back from Paris realizing that he loves Jan Di, but it is too late as she is already falling for Jun Pyo--the man who was once her sworn enemy. Anyhow, Ji-Hoo is Jan Di's constant and continually provides her a shoulder to cry on and sees her through all that life throws at her, including, most recently, the broken heart she received at the hands of Gu Jun Pyo--her true love.
Gu Jun Pyo--The leader of the F4, and the heir to the richest corporation in Korea. He red carded Jan Di at the begining of the show but as she stood up to him he began to fall for her. He truly loves Jan Di--he's laid his life on the line quite a few times already, but he broke her heart and told her that she was a "stain he wanted to erase" in order to protect her and her family from his domineering and horrible mother who threatened Jan Di if Jun Pyo didn't break up with her.
Now, I know that I probably have had way too much time on my hands this week, but I was thinking about it and anyone with any brains would run screaming from Jun Pyo and stay with an awesome guy like Ji-Hoo. Then I put myself in Jan Di's place and wondered what I would do, and I knew instantly--Gu Jun Pyo all the way. What is it about the bad boys that break our hearts? Why are some women and men (myself included) so damn attracted to men that we know are just not in our best interests? Is it the passion? The excitement? The pride in knowing that only you could tame the man who could never be tamed? I don't get it.
I am 30 years old--I don't need or want any drama in a relationship. I want a guy like Ji-Hoo. The nice, caring guy who always tries to make you happy--at least that's what I tell myself. What if picking the nice guy means a life that is destined to be boring and banterless? What if you pick the nice guy only to wish you had waited for the bad boy that you could banter with and tame? What if picking the nice guy means no more adventure, no more passion? I'm not saying I want to have a relationship that is a series of constant arguments, but banter is always fun.
I know BBF is not real--well aware, but it always makes me think about my bad boy complex. I know at the end of the soap opera Jan Di will have fully tamed Jun Pyo and they will ride off in to the sunset leaving Ji-Hoo far behind. I also know that it only happens on soap operas and that in real life bad boys usually ride off in to the sunset without you, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a broken heart. Why then am I so fascinated by them? Why can't I resist the possibility of one? Why do I want Spike and not Angel? Why Jun Pyo and not Ji-Hoo? Why Big and not Aidan? Why can't I get it in to my head that nice guys are the way to go???
Ah well, off to bed, undoubtedly dreaming of bad boys and of all the havoc they wreak with a smile on my face.
Ji-Hoo: Super rich, a member of the F4, the most powerful clique of boys at Shinwa School. The F4 run the school and Ji-Hoo is the most level headed one of them all. His family was all killed in a car accident when he was very young and he retreated in to a deep depression until Seo Min Hyun brought him out of the dark. Needless to say that, in true soap opera form, Seo Min, is Ji-Hoo's first love who he ends up following to Paris. Ji-Hoo comes back from Paris realizing that he loves Jan Di, but it is too late as she is already falling for Jun Pyo--the man who was once her sworn enemy. Anyhow, Ji-Hoo is Jan Di's constant and continually provides her a shoulder to cry on and sees her through all that life throws at her, including, most recently, the broken heart she received at the hands of Gu Jun Pyo--her true love.
Gu Jun Pyo--The leader of the F4, and the heir to the richest corporation in Korea. He red carded Jan Di at the begining of the show but as she stood up to him he began to fall for her. He truly loves Jan Di--he's laid his life on the line quite a few times already, but he broke her heart and told her that she was a "stain he wanted to erase" in order to protect her and her family from his domineering and horrible mother who threatened Jan Di if Jun Pyo didn't break up with her.
Now, I know that I probably have had way too much time on my hands this week, but I was thinking about it and anyone with any brains would run screaming from Jun Pyo and stay with an awesome guy like Ji-Hoo. Then I put myself in Jan Di's place and wondered what I would do, and I knew instantly--Gu Jun Pyo all the way. What is it about the bad boys that break our hearts? Why are some women and men (myself included) so damn attracted to men that we know are just not in our best interests? Is it the passion? The excitement? The pride in knowing that only you could tame the man who could never be tamed? I don't get it.
I am 30 years old--I don't need or want any drama in a relationship. I want a guy like Ji-Hoo. The nice, caring guy who always tries to make you happy--at least that's what I tell myself. What if picking the nice guy means a life that is destined to be boring and banterless? What if you pick the nice guy only to wish you had waited for the bad boy that you could banter with and tame? What if picking the nice guy means no more adventure, no more passion? I'm not saying I want to have a relationship that is a series of constant arguments, but banter is always fun.
I know BBF is not real--well aware, but it always makes me think about my bad boy complex. I know at the end of the soap opera Jan Di will have fully tamed Jun Pyo and they will ride off in to the sunset leaving Ji-Hoo far behind. I also know that it only happens on soap operas and that in real life bad boys usually ride off in to the sunset without you, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a broken heart. Why then am I so fascinated by them? Why can't I resist the possibility of one? Why do I want Spike and not Angel? Why Jun Pyo and not Ji-Hoo? Why Big and not Aidan? Why can't I get it in to my head that nice guys are the way to go???
Ah well, off to bed, undoubtedly dreaming of bad boys and of all the havoc they wreak with a smile on my face.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Sunday, Rainy, Sunday
How do ubernerds spend their Sundays? By continuing on their journey to learn Korean by osmosis. Once again I logged on to youtube and began to stare at Boys Before Flower vids that were not subtitled in English. Sigh. It didn't work and soon I was back on the site with the subtitles. I have not yet conceded my fight, but I have a feeling I may concede soon. Probably by tomorrow this time--why? Because the new episode of BBF will be up and subtitled by then.
Aside from learning Korean, rainy Sundays are also great for self reflection. I won't bore anyone with the details of what goes on in my head during these times, but I think the picture of what I want, who I am, who I want, and what I want out of life is becoming clearer little by little. It's an encouraging feeling but scary to let go of what I have been holding on to for so long.
Finally, rainy Sundays are great for just being. Being lazy, being in your pajamas, being a nerd, being happy, being sad, being hopeful--just being.
So that is my rainy Sunday--wish me luck along my Korean strewn path ;)
Aside from learning Korean, rainy Sundays are also great for self reflection. I won't bore anyone with the details of what goes on in my head during these times, but I think the picture of what I want, who I am, who I want, and what I want out of life is becoming clearer little by little. It's an encouraging feeling but scary to let go of what I have been holding on to for so long.
Finally, rainy Sundays are great for just being. Being lazy, being in your pajamas, being a nerd, being happy, being sad, being hopeful--just being.
So that is my rainy Sunday--wish me luck along my Korean strewn path ;)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
The Cult of Snuggie, Lee Min-ho, and Procreating Barbie
Okay, where do I start? Lets start with the first item in the subject line--The Cult of Snuggie. Look it up on youtube. Just type in "The Cult of Snuggie" into the search line and it will bring up a short, but hilarious video that cuts together an infomercial for a long blanket with sleeves, and makes it look like an advertisement for a cult. I was at a staff training on Tuesday and one of the people in my group had on a sweater that looked like a Snuggie--I wanted to burst in to laughter out loud, but I couldn't because, well, my mouth gets me in to enough trouble. It was even funnier because their sweater was the color of the teal/blue snuggie AND this person is kind of crazy so I could totally see them as a member of The Cult of Snuggie. My mind is a scary, but very entertaining, place.
Speaking of entertainment--"Boys Before Flowers" is my official new addiction. Lee Min-ho is my official new baby's daddy. Gu Jun Pyo is my fantasy boyfriend (besides the vampires). Last night as I searched the internet for previews of the next episode (which I never found, blech!) I became convinced that I could suddenly read Korean because I happened to click the correct button on a Korean website. I was confident I could now navigate the web in Korean AND I wouldn't have to wait for subtitles because obviously I had finally proven that learning by osmosis works--stare at the shit long enough and it soaks in to your brain. Armed with my newfound Korean language I clicked another button on the website and I was promptly taken to a site that looked to be Korean news. I figured this little hiccup was nothing and I clicked another button--and a very scary man started yelling about rice in Korean. I clicked the box shut and logged off, still convinced I knew Korean. The reason for the break in my search was that "Lost" was about to start and I may be addicted to BBF, but "Lost" is the original addiction and I can't miss one minute of the episode. There are two Korean characters on "Lost" and when they started speaking Korean last night I was pulled back to reality when I realized I had no freaking idea what Sun and Jin were saying and I had to read the subtitles. Stupid Korean language....I stand by my position on osmosis--it will happen eventually--don't be surprised if one day I just start speaking Korean. Lets hope that day comes soon so I can watch my BBF episodes quicker.
I posted a blog the other day where my best friend was insistent that Barbie and Ken had procreated and the result was Skipper. Since that discussion my best friend has texted and called me to let me know that there people that agree with her theory. Her sister, a co-worker, and an internet friend--and to you all I say this--SUCKERS!! I LOOKED IT UP!!! In 1964, Skipper was introduced AS BARBIE'S SISTER!!! She has remained as such since then. Also, Ken and Barbie are in fact married, however, there marriage has resulted in no children. So, Ken and Barbie, just have hot sex just for fun and not procreation! HA! Take that religious right wing conservative bastards! For those of you who question this the website address is http://www.dolls4play.com/barbiehistory.html --look it up, it's all there. And to my best friend's co-worker who agreed with me, make the hooker buy you lunch tomorrow at Los Gordos cause we were right!! And make lots of fun of her!!
On a final note, to all of you planning a romantic Valentine's Day I say this. Screw you. Thank you and goodnight.
Speaking of entertainment--"Boys Before Flowers" is my official new addiction. Lee Min-ho is my official new baby's daddy. Gu Jun Pyo is my fantasy boyfriend (besides the vampires). Last night as I searched the internet for previews of the next episode (which I never found, blech!) I became convinced that I could suddenly read Korean because I happened to click the correct button on a Korean website. I was confident I could now navigate the web in Korean AND I wouldn't have to wait for subtitles because obviously I had finally proven that learning by osmosis works--stare at the shit long enough and it soaks in to your brain. Armed with my newfound Korean language I clicked another button on the website and I was promptly taken to a site that looked to be Korean news. I figured this little hiccup was nothing and I clicked another button--and a very scary man started yelling about rice in Korean. I clicked the box shut and logged off, still convinced I knew Korean. The reason for the break in my search was that "Lost" was about to start and I may be addicted to BBF, but "Lost" is the original addiction and I can't miss one minute of the episode. There are two Korean characters on "Lost" and when they started speaking Korean last night I was pulled back to reality when I realized I had no freaking idea what Sun and Jin were saying and I had to read the subtitles. Stupid Korean language....I stand by my position on osmosis--it will happen eventually--don't be surprised if one day I just start speaking Korean. Lets hope that day comes soon so I can watch my BBF episodes quicker.
I posted a blog the other day where my best friend was insistent that Barbie and Ken had procreated and the result was Skipper. Since that discussion my best friend has texted and called me to let me know that there people that agree with her theory. Her sister, a co-worker, and an internet friend--and to you all I say this--SUCKERS!! I LOOKED IT UP!!! In 1964, Skipper was introduced AS BARBIE'S SISTER!!! She has remained as such since then. Also, Ken and Barbie are in fact married, however, there marriage has resulted in no children. So, Ken and Barbie, just have hot sex just for fun and not procreation! HA! Take that religious right wing conservative bastards! For those of you who question this the website address is http://www.dolls4play.com/barbiehistory.html --look it up, it's all there. And to my best friend's co-worker who agreed with me, make the hooker buy you lunch tomorrow at Los Gordos cause we were right!! And make lots of fun of her!!
On a final note, to all of you planning a romantic Valentine's Day I say this. Screw you. Thank you and goodnight.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Ken, Barbie, Korean Drama, and Subtitles...
I am addicted to a Korean drama called "Boys Before Flowers". It is currently airing in Korea and so I must consistently check my designated websites to see if the current episodes have been posted AND subtitled. This evening in the midst of my frantic search to find parts 5 and 6 of the epi that aired last night in Korea--and staring at a screen full of Korean, convinced that I would magically learn the language by staring at it--I was interrupted by a call from my best friend, the Queen. I informed her of my latest addiction and proceeded to tell her that I was in desperate need to learn Korean so I didn't have to search for subtitled episodes, but also that I had been humming Korean pop songs to myself all weekend, singing only the words to the lines that were in English. Imagine me walking through my house with my dog singing "Together make it love, forever making you smile, lalalalalalalalala...." Yeah, I know--scary. Anyhow, back to the phone call...somehow over the course of the conversation about my shiny and new Korean drama addiction the subject of Ken and Barbie came up. As in the plastic dolls, the Queen, her sister and I obssessively played with throughout our young lives.
I explained to my bestie that Barbie was a plastic doll with no anatomy and that Ken was much the same, save for a small bulge in his plastic underwear that let you know that what was under his plastic undies was not the same as what was under Barbie's. My friend then brought up the subject of Skipper--I always thought that Skipper was Barbie's little sister or friend or something--the Queen had other ideas. She insisted that Skipper existed because Barbie and Ken had, in fact had sexual relations and produced Skipper. It happened on their wedding night and nine months later Skipper arrived. I didn't agree with her logic and so I asked her which Barbie and Ken model had produced Skipper. Again, her answer was ready--clearly it must have been the original Barbie and Ken that had relations and produced the teenager Skipper. I called her a dork and she retaliated by calling me a dork as well. I asked her why I was a dork like her and she stated it was because I didn't believe her (at least she did not blame my newfound penchant for Korean dramas). My bestie went even further and stated that Ken and Barbie were based on real people that had gotten married, had relations, and produced a child named Skipper. She insisted it was on the Matel website. I still disagree with her.
In short my best friend and I are complete goofballs, but I think we both needed the laugh. Ah well, I'm off to learn Korean...wish me luck. Any help with this matter would be greatly appreciated. And on the off chance that Lee Min-ho or Kim Bum are reading this--I love you both and I want to have your Korean American babies.
I explained to my bestie that Barbie was a plastic doll with no anatomy and that Ken was much the same, save for a small bulge in his plastic underwear that let you know that what was under his plastic undies was not the same as what was under Barbie's. My friend then brought up the subject of Skipper--I always thought that Skipper was Barbie's little sister or friend or something--the Queen had other ideas. She insisted that Skipper existed because Barbie and Ken had, in fact had sexual relations and produced Skipper. It happened on their wedding night and nine months later Skipper arrived. I didn't agree with her logic and so I asked her which Barbie and Ken model had produced Skipper. Again, her answer was ready--clearly it must have been the original Barbie and Ken that had relations and produced the teenager Skipper. I called her a dork and she retaliated by calling me a dork as well. I asked her why I was a dork like her and she stated it was because I didn't believe her (at least she did not blame my newfound penchant for Korean dramas). My bestie went even further and stated that Ken and Barbie were based on real people that had gotten married, had relations, and produced a child named Skipper. She insisted it was on the Matel website. I still disagree with her.
In short my best friend and I are complete goofballs, but I think we both needed the laugh. Ah well, I'm off to learn Korean...wish me luck. Any help with this matter would be greatly appreciated. And on the off chance that Lee Min-ho or Kim Bum are reading this--I love you both and I want to have your Korean American babies.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
I cheated...well sort of...
Okay, so I don't get to the movies as often as I would like anymore. All my potential movie dates have children, with the exception of one--she would rather go to a bar where people reenact their high school personas than go watch "Slumdog Millionaire"--anyhow, I digress...I found a site a few months ago called themoviespoiler.com where you can read a detailed synopsis of a movie instead of watching it. Today as I perused the internet I decided to check the site and see if any movies I felt like spoiling for myself were up and I was pleasantly surprised to find the spoiler for "He's just not that in to you". I wasn't sure I wanted to see it so I thought I would read the spoiler and decide (I want to see it by the way). I don't want to ruin anything for anyone, but a theme of the movie is "you have to find yourself, not someone else, before you can find true love" Cliched. Smarmy. Cheesy. Hallmarkish. And true.
I feel like lately life has been trying to impart some truth on me, and I think this is it. I was the little girl that grew up on All My Children, One Life to Live, General Hospital and a myriad of spanish telenovelas. I think somewhere inside my head I tricked myself in to believing that love isn't easy. Love is a long, hard fought journey and only after you have overcome all the obstacles are you allowed to be with your true love. I thought it meant finding someone else and accepting them and holding on no matter what. I was convinced that the princess would always be rescued by her prince after all the evil was vanquished. Then I fell in love. I hung on for dear life and rode out all the bumps along the road but something went wrong, because at the end of everything--the evil was not vanquished and I was without my prince. I didn't know what to do because at the end of the novela happiness abounded. Tad and Dixie always found their way back to each other. This wasn't supposed to happen.
But it did. It happened. It hurt. It was like no other pain I had experienced. And more importantly I knew that it was my fault because I must have missed something along the way. I must not have done something I was supposed to do, otherwise why would it have turned out so wrong? Something was wrong with me. At least that's what I thought then.
Which brings me back to the truth that life has recently imparted on me. I was listening to my Taylor Swift CD after I bought it and I listened to the song "White Horse"--in case you haven't heard it the main line is "I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale"--and I was overcome with a sense of sadness. I couldn't figure out why the song hit me so hard--until I was singing along with it one day and I realized why it was hard to listen to. Everything I had grown up believing about love and relationships was wrong. There was no formulaic route that a relationship had to take in order to achieve a happy ending. And maybe even when all the evil was vanquished it didn't mean that the prince loved the princess. And me? Was I princess? Damn straight I was (and still am)! I was not, however, a damsel in distress who needed rescuing at every turn. I was just me. Book nerd, English teacher, bitchin' accessorizer, ME.
Then I realized something else. Love shouldn't be hard. I know that all relationships will face their hard times, but maybe there is such a thing as too much. Perhaps love doesn't need a formulaic path of hardships before it is realized. Maybe love is really easy to find and we are just looking way too hard--maybe I'm looking way too hard, or maybe because I thought it was supposed to be so hard I just gave up looking at all.
So, that's where I'm at folks. One rather large realization and in the midst of overhauling my outlook and perspective on myself and on love. All in a Sunday's blog post.
I feel like lately life has been trying to impart some truth on me, and I think this is it. I was the little girl that grew up on All My Children, One Life to Live, General Hospital and a myriad of spanish telenovelas. I think somewhere inside my head I tricked myself in to believing that love isn't easy. Love is a long, hard fought journey and only after you have overcome all the obstacles are you allowed to be with your true love. I thought it meant finding someone else and accepting them and holding on no matter what. I was convinced that the princess would always be rescued by her prince after all the evil was vanquished. Then I fell in love. I hung on for dear life and rode out all the bumps along the road but something went wrong, because at the end of everything--the evil was not vanquished and I was without my prince. I didn't know what to do because at the end of the novela happiness abounded. Tad and Dixie always found their way back to each other. This wasn't supposed to happen.
But it did. It happened. It hurt. It was like no other pain I had experienced. And more importantly I knew that it was my fault because I must have missed something along the way. I must not have done something I was supposed to do, otherwise why would it have turned out so wrong? Something was wrong with me. At least that's what I thought then.
Which brings me back to the truth that life has recently imparted on me. I was listening to my Taylor Swift CD after I bought it and I listened to the song "White Horse"--in case you haven't heard it the main line is "I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairytale"--and I was overcome with a sense of sadness. I couldn't figure out why the song hit me so hard--until I was singing along with it one day and I realized why it was hard to listen to. Everything I had grown up believing about love and relationships was wrong. There was no formulaic route that a relationship had to take in order to achieve a happy ending. And maybe even when all the evil was vanquished it didn't mean that the prince loved the princess. And me? Was I princess? Damn straight I was (and still am)! I was not, however, a damsel in distress who needed rescuing at every turn. I was just me. Book nerd, English teacher, bitchin' accessorizer, ME.
Then I realized something else. Love shouldn't be hard. I know that all relationships will face their hard times, but maybe there is such a thing as too much. Perhaps love doesn't need a formulaic path of hardships before it is realized. Maybe love is really easy to find and we are just looking way too hard--maybe I'm looking way too hard, or maybe because I thought it was supposed to be so hard I just gave up looking at all.
So, that's where I'm at folks. One rather large realization and in the midst of overhauling my outlook and perspective on myself and on love. All in a Sunday's blog post.
Monday, February 2, 2009
KFC, thou art most disturbing...
Okay, so I needed to wind down from all the craziness of the day and I decided to rot my brain some more by watching television. It was at some point during "For the Love of Ray J" that I became truly troubled. You would think that Brandy's younger brother being a man whore for 14 hoochies would be disturbing enough, but then a commerical for KFC came on.
A young woman dressed as a cook appeared on the screen talking about special herbs and spices and all of the hard work that goes in to the food...at KFC!! Then she went on to state that she was a COOK at KFC...and that every KFC has one!! WHAT!!?!?!?!? The heart attack inducing grease peddlers have a cook on staff at every restaurant?? Seriously? Has society become so horribly unintelligent that either a) some dumb asses at KFC couldn't drop chicken into hot grease and they had to create a position where someone less stupid than them could do it or b) KFC really thinks that everyone watching that commerical is actually going to believe that you have a cook on staff at every restaurant so while you're filling arteries with grease we can convince ourselves it's an actual restaurant---all I have to say is EW! My yearly trip to KFC is over...you can clog my arteries, but you cannot insult my intelligence, you grease peddling stupidity mongers!
I now interrupt this rant to begin watching "I Love Money 2". Lets hope it leaves enough brain cells for another one or two blog entries.
A young woman dressed as a cook appeared on the screen talking about special herbs and spices and all of the hard work that goes in to the food...at KFC!! Then she went on to state that she was a COOK at KFC...and that every KFC has one!! WHAT!!?!?!?!? The heart attack inducing grease peddlers have a cook on staff at every restaurant?? Seriously? Has society become so horribly unintelligent that either a) some dumb asses at KFC couldn't drop chicken into hot grease and they had to create a position where someone less stupid than them could do it or b) KFC really thinks that everyone watching that commerical is actually going to believe that you have a cook on staff at every restaurant so while you're filling arteries with grease we can convince ourselves it's an actual restaurant---all I have to say is EW! My yearly trip to KFC is over...you can clog my arteries, but you cannot insult my intelligence, you grease peddling stupidity mongers!
I now interrupt this rant to begin watching "I Love Money 2". Lets hope it leaves enough brain cells for another one or two blog entries.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Comfort Food and Homicide
"If you ate more comfort food, maybe you wouldn't go around killing people"-Hurley on "Lost"
I am hungry. Super duper hungry. Know what I would eat right now if I could? Fries from Del Taco, Tequenos from Fresca, Super Nachos from Asadero and a burger from Red Robin. Want to know why I can't eat any of those things? Carbs are in my past. Bread is dead for me. Potatoes? No ma'am. I am a one woman protein eating machine. The catch? Protein=hunger, carbs=stuffed full. So, why can't I just ditch the protein and go with the carbs? Because I have finally gotten to the point where it's a health risk. So instead of chomping on some fries I am instead forced to munch on carrots. Joy. I backed myself in to a corner and now I must reap the fruit, veggie and protein strewn consequences.
This brings me back to last night's season premiere of "Lost" when Hurley informed Sayid that he may give up his life as a vengeance seeking hitman if he indulged in burgers and fries a little more often. The moment was not only hilarious, but perhaps just slightly true.
Those of you that know me, know that I am not always exactly a ray of sunshine, but take the carbs out of me and even the brief sparks of sunniness have turned to hunger induced grouchiness and irriation (more than usual anyhow). There have been certain instances where my hunger induced grouchiness was just a touch from turning in to hunger induced rage. I wanted to slap one of my department chairs silly at least twice this week--this can't be good for my career.
So, I ask you, dear readers did Hurley have a point? Will Sayid finally eat that cheeseburger and stop killing? Will I slap my department chair silly? Or, will my hunger induced momentary lapse of sanity pass, just like the last one, and will this all be a vague memory tomorrow?
I am hungry. Super duper hungry. Know what I would eat right now if I could? Fries from Del Taco, Tequenos from Fresca, Super Nachos from Asadero and a burger from Red Robin. Want to know why I can't eat any of those things? Carbs are in my past. Bread is dead for me. Potatoes? No ma'am. I am a one woman protein eating machine. The catch? Protein=hunger, carbs=stuffed full. So, why can't I just ditch the protein and go with the carbs? Because I have finally gotten to the point where it's a health risk. So instead of chomping on some fries I am instead forced to munch on carrots. Joy. I backed myself in to a corner and now I must reap the fruit, veggie and protein strewn consequences.
This brings me back to last night's season premiere of "Lost" when Hurley informed Sayid that he may give up his life as a vengeance seeking hitman if he indulged in burgers and fries a little more often. The moment was not only hilarious, but perhaps just slightly true.
Those of you that know me, know that I am not always exactly a ray of sunshine, but take the carbs out of me and even the brief sparks of sunniness have turned to hunger induced grouchiness and irriation (more than usual anyhow). There have been certain instances where my hunger induced grouchiness was just a touch from turning in to hunger induced rage. I wanted to slap one of my department chairs silly at least twice this week--this can't be good for my career.
So, I ask you, dear readers did Hurley have a point? Will Sayid finally eat that cheeseburger and stop killing? Will I slap my department chair silly? Or, will my hunger induced momentary lapse of sanity pass, just like the last one, and will this all be a vague memory tomorrow?
Monday, January 19, 2009
ANTM
I love Oxygen. No, not the air we breathe (although I must give air its props for keeping us alive). I am referring to the cable channel known for airing such shows as "The Bad Girls Club" and some other shit I can't remember. Today, as I set out to do laundry, clean and perform other such adulthood drudgeries I noticed that there was an ANTM marathon on. I have to admit that I was stoked!
ANTM, for all you non-fiercies out there, is "America's Next Top Model" hosted by Tyra Banks. At first I was strongly opposed to this show--I had a problem with girls being judged on their beauty and size. There is still a part of me that cries out in opposition, but in the end it is just too amusing not to watch. There are so many things going on in the world yet you watch these girls obssess and ponder things such as "What really is fierce?" or "How do I pose so I smile with my eyes?" Take Marjorie for instance--she's akward, she was born in France and she constantly feels like she's not good enough. The thing that gets me is that Marjorie is super smart and she should probably be off curing cancer or writing the next great novel, but instead she's obssessing over what Tyra Banks thinks of her and bemoaning the fact that Americans will never truly understand her because she had the unfortunate luck to be born in France. Seriously? I can see being upset about the whole French thing, they were pretty wretched when I visited, but you're upset you can't smile with your eyes? Really?
I could next pick apart Tyra and how her bubble must be burst immediately, but I should probably save it, because lets face it--my problem with her is that I don't like anyone who gives me a run for my money when it comes to narcissim and self-centeredness. It's a good thing she has her money to save her from reality and I hear the dryer buzzing to bring me back to it.
ANTM, for all you non-fiercies out there, is "America's Next Top Model" hosted by Tyra Banks. At first I was strongly opposed to this show--I had a problem with girls being judged on their beauty and size. There is still a part of me that cries out in opposition, but in the end it is just too amusing not to watch. There are so many things going on in the world yet you watch these girls obssess and ponder things such as "What really is fierce?" or "How do I pose so I smile with my eyes?" Take Marjorie for instance--she's akward, she was born in France and she constantly feels like she's not good enough. The thing that gets me is that Marjorie is super smart and she should probably be off curing cancer or writing the next great novel, but instead she's obssessing over what Tyra Banks thinks of her and bemoaning the fact that Americans will never truly understand her because she had the unfortunate luck to be born in France. Seriously? I can see being upset about the whole French thing, they were pretty wretched when I visited, but you're upset you can't smile with your eyes? Really?
I could next pick apart Tyra and how her bubble must be burst immediately, but I should probably save it, because lets face it--my problem with her is that I don't like anyone who gives me a run for my money when it comes to narcissim and self-centeredness. It's a good thing she has her money to save her from reality and I hear the dryer buzzing to bring me back to it.
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