Notes on a Weekend

I'm totally distracted, yo. Sorry. I'm watching the Oscars, and I'm super pumped about it. A couple notes to the producers of the Oscars. 1) If I cared about old movies that won a certain award in 1980, I would google it and watch THAT years awards show. I have a feeling the show wouldn't constantly go over in time if they stopped "taking a look back". Booooring! 2) Let's 86 the pre-awards show interviews. Ryan Seacrest makes me squirm when he tries to make small talk with the likes of bland ol' Gwenyth Paltrow. Let's just ask 'em what they're wearing, judge them from our couches, and be done with it. I don't care about whether or not motherhood changed someone's outlook on making movies.

Moving on...I finally did my taxes, just like a real, live grown up! Got me some money too. Thanks, Government! Here are a couple notes to the writers of tax forms: Me no understandy many of your wordy things. I've been doing my own taxes for as long as I've been paying them. Back when I picked up my first 1040EZ form, my dad made me learn how to do my own. It's a good lesson, I guess. I don't own anything, or go to school, or anything crazy like that, so my taxes are still pretty simple. But I wish whoever is writing these tax questions was a little more straight forward. It took a couple readings before I understood to answer "No, I didn't win the lottery or a game show this year". Sheesh. I'd like to thank Google and the handy little "HELP" icons on the taxact.com website for helping me get through my taxes every year.

On Saturday I got a little crazy. It was my aunt Karen's 70th birthday. To celebrate, I joined some of the other women in my family and went to learn how to belly dance. It was great, and so much fun. We went to this rec center place and there was a ton of food, a henna artist, a bunch of my aunt's friends and fellow belly dancing enthusiasts, jingly jangly skirty things that we wore over our jeans, and a belly dancing instructor. Note on belly dancing: It is MUCH harder than it looks. At one point, both my cousin and I had side aches. I sweated. I made the jingly jangly skirt shake and ring, so I thought I was getting the hang of it. Then I saw myself in the mirror. My body was just NOT doing the same thing as the instructor's. I looked like a crazy person. Note to self: Never EVER do any belly dancing in public.

Later on Saturday, Kim brought her Kinect over and we spent the night playing Dance Central - which, annoyingly, I had to actually BUY because Blockbuster is the worst place ever. "Well, you can't RENT games here, but we can MAIL it to you." After hearing that, I told the guy "Um, that's probably the least convenient solution ever, since, you know, you guys are a rental place." Anyway, I digress. Luckily, there were no belly dancing moves involved. But Note to everyone: Dance Central is the bombest game ever. Kim was hesitant at first and wasn't sure she'd get into it, but we had an excellent time dancing our butts off all night long. Sure, it could have had a lot to do with the rum and diet Coke's we were pounding all night, but I doubt it.

Finally, today I picked up Geo from the airport and listened patiently as he regaled me with tales from his trip to exotic Alabama. Okay, so it was 70 degrees there while it snowed all freakin' weekend here, big whoop! And yeah, I guess the malls sound really cool there. But whatever. After listening to a long story about what "ROLL TIDE" means, I was relieved when Geo finally suggested going out for a good ol' Minnesota food staple: Juicy Lucy burgers. Zummy zummy zummy. Note to my body: Sorry about all the dark liquor and caffeine on Saturday night, followed almost immediately by shoveling down a delicious, greasy burger with salty French fries. But it just couldn't be helped.

Notes on the entire weekend: Solid performance. One suggestion, though. You were far too short. Let's work on that.

Gram(my) and Eggs

I guess I didn't realize how much I love awards shows. But the Grammy Awards are here, people! I'm posted up on the couch, watching the 2 hours of Red Carpet pre-show. So far, I'm impressed with No One. But really, Lady Gaga? REALLY?? She arrived in an egg. Yes. A giant egg. "She's incubating", her handlers reiterated over and over on the red carpet. Talk about hitting someone over the head with a metaphor...sheesh. I get it. Her new single, Born This Way, is about, you know, being who we are since birth. (P.S. It sounds EXACTLY like Madonna's Express Yourself in case you were wondering.) Anyway, okay, so now she's "incubating" until her performance where she'll be "born", I'm assuming. She's not subtle.

Nothing exciting is happening yet on the Grammys. So, I'll dazzle you with the deets from my weekend. Friday night was a disgusting amount of fun. We went out for Kim's birthday. We went to a German bar, drank German beer, sang German songs, and took some sort of minty snuff stuff that they catapult up your nose. Crazy Germans. But then I finally made my way out to the dance floor with Kim's friend Stephanie and we went cray-cray. I LOVE dancing. It was so fun. So much fun that I needed to take a little nap on the way home. And then I spent like 14 hours sleeping on Saturday. I needed my rest.

Grammys Update: Blah. Everyone is wearing a gold dress or a leopard print dress. Everyone except Rihanna. Rihanna is wearing an outfit made entirely out of white Hawaiian leis.

Okay, so Saturday was a waste. I peeled myself out of bed with a throbbing German headache at about 3:30 p.m. I came downstairs and Geo, Perek, and their friend KG were playing Settlers of Catan - that nerdy game I mentioned awhile ago. They wanted to have a "crown" that the winner could wear, so I made them one out of a hard hat, Mardi Gras beads, sharpies, and pink bows. It was fabulous. Then I made a horrible, rash decision and watched Sex and the City 2 . I ended up sick as well because it's a terrible movie. For the love of God, don't watch it.

Grammys Update: Pretty disappointed with Gaga. She was "born" from said egg, but she looks, uh, normal. We are wondering if her outfit is made out of butter or something. If not, it's totally blah. Thanks for nothing, Meat Dress.

Okay, so it was incredibly nice outside today. After spending yesterday in bed, I needed to get out. So I went to the mall to find Geo a Valentine's Day gift. Instead, I just so happened to find clothes for me. Yay! So spending the rest of the day looking for Geo's gift was a lot easier knowing I had my own cute new stuff. Welp, that brings us up to now and these Grammy's. So far, it's kind of a Snoozefest.

Grammys Update: I must have fallen asleep because I've only seen like 3 awards handed out. They keep saying "Winners already tonight" but I haven't seen ANY of them. BUT! Me lovey Mumford & Sons and The Avett Bros. and Bob Dylan. That was definitely a great performance. Okay, Grammys, well done.

Grammys Update: CeeLo. Thank you. I love a man in head-to-toe feathers. But NO thank you Gwenyth Paltrow for not embracing the Muppet theme of the song. Geo just said she looks like she was CONTROLLING one of the Muppets because she's just dressed in black. Hater.

Geo and I just now made dinner reservations for tomorrow. Leave it to him...I was all "We'll never get reservations the NIGHT BEFORE Valentine's Day. Never." Turns out, we decided on a place, called, and got dinner for 2 at the exact time Geo requested. Maybe I need to lay off him a bit.

Grammys Update: I want to marry Rihanna's performance dress (the one with Eminem). OMG. It's gorgeous! So much better than the Hawaiian lei number she had on before. I tried to find a link to show you, but it's not up yet. Go find it. And I wouldn't be mad if you bought it for me. Thanks.

Grammys Update: Who is Esperanza Spalding? Uggggghhhhh.

Grammys Update: I'm officially checked out. Between the Aretha Franklin tribute and Rolling Stones and Barbra Streisand performances, I've invested far too many hours listening to music I don't like tonight. Blech.

Grammys Update: Oh, hello Nicki Minaj! Loves it! And she's presenting for a category I'm excited about! Best Rap Album. EMINEM! Oh yes. Yes yes yes. I'm obsessed with his album. Will he say something crazy? Let's see...oh, bummer, nope. That's okay. w0000t!

Grammys Update: Yup, I'm officially declaring this awards show BUNK. None of the good people won (except Eminem, and arguably Lady Gaga). And I could not be more bored. Where's Ke$ha? Where's Britney for crying out loud?! Zzzzzz...Well, with that, this blogger is off to bed to dream of what Could Have Been in this show. It started so promising, with that crazy Gaga Egg, but it ended up a big, fat dud.

Ugh. Stupes Grammehs.

Tricky Ricky

Oh, hey, that's annoying. I just lost a nearly-complete blog I had been working on. I'd like to say it was the greatest one I'd ever written, but that would be a lie. And if that were the case, I'd be too busy systematically pulling out my hair to sit and write another one. Oh well, I guess it's a sign that the first one was crap and probably no one would have wanted to read it anyway.

Also, it's good because since working on it, I have become a little obsessed with Ricky Gervais, which is worth exploring. You guys know Ricky Gervais, right? Creator of the original The Office? Funny Brit with a biting, self-deprecating sense of humor? Jacked up teeth who recently dropped a load of weight and now looks pretty darn good in a tux? Yeah, that's him. Turns out, I really like him. I think he's hilarious, and he's funny in a way that makes me look past the unfortunate dental mess he's got going on.

So he hosted the Golden Globes this weekend, and I definitely lol'd a bunch of times. It was more than I had ever laughed at an awards show. He was great. He had this wicked little smile he'd flash right after insulting someone so thoroughly, that you can't help but love him. Wait, what's that? A bunch of no-talent hacks are mad at him because he had the gall to poke fun at some celebrities? Figures.

What ever happened to people having a sense of humor about themselves? What kind of person can't take a joke made at their expense? I'll tell you who: egotistical, self-aggrandizing celebrities. A couple days ago I complained about celebrities not being crazy enough. Now it's like they're full blown Fun Haters. Get over yourselves, Hollywood!

Here's what I don't get. All these people are up in arms and mad at Ricky Gervais for making fun of things that, as far as we know, ARE TRUE. Tom Cruise, for instance. I guess he skipped going to the awards altogether because someone made fun of him. But it's not like we don't know he's insane. And/or possibly gay. Ricky Gervais didn't let out some huge secret, idiot. WE ALREADY KNEW THAT. The American public is not dumb, geez. And it's not like we FORGOT, either, Tom. Yet, Mr. Cruise probably spent the night at home, cursing Ricky's name in some Scientology seance, all because of a JOKE.

Poor Ricky. Talk about a rough crowd. Apparently, a number of celebs are just, well, none too pleased with the harmless ribbing. My favorite part was when Ricky alluded to the fact that The Tourist, which was nominated for an award (I think THAT was a joke all in itself) was a horrible movie. Again, it's not like we DIDN'T know that! And yet, little miss puss-face Jolie (who starred in the flick) sat there pursing her wormy lips the entire time. You'd think being a mother, a martyr, and a horrible actress would give the woman a healthy sense of humor. And you'd think that Angelina, as someone who made out with her own brother on a red carpet a number of years ago, and wore a vial of her ex-husband's blood around her neck would realize that she's not normal, and she's not exactly trying to hide it. Therefore: She's basically asking for it.

So yeah, all these people are mad at Ricky. But it's not like he singled any one person out. He targeted Scientologists, journalists, Americans....everyone. Then people are all "Ugh! I'm a little put off by his sense of humor, and instead of changing the channel and getting a hobby, I'm going to complain. Pull him off TV IMMEDIATELY! FOREVER!" People overreact just because they wrongly assume the world revolves around them and cares what they think. You know what's going to happen to awards shows now? They're going to be like the Super Bowl. Thanks, jerks.

Ever since Janet Jackson flashed a bit of nip, Super Bowl Halftime Shows suck. They do. I don't want to watch the Rolling Stones perform, because I'm afraid they're going to die up there. And Tom Petty? The Who? What is going on? I'll tell you what's going on: all the fun haters had to go and ruin what used to be an awesome little show. With the exception of Prince's performance, the Super Bowl Half Time show has been nothing but lame, aging rockers, singing songs no one can remember anymore. Including the performers. Thank God they at least booked the Black Eyed Peas this year. I'll watch just on the off chance Fergie pees her pants again. THAT'S entertainment, people.

I just really don't want that to happen to my awards shows. They're already pretty watered down, so don't take away the only saving grace. Namely, funny hosts who give the celebrities what's comin' to them. In particular, Ricky Gervais. His jokes were actually clever, too. They weren't mean, or cruel. They were simply JOKES. Plus, with that British accent, he sounded downright proper when he joked that the awards were rigged. I really hope to see more of him this year. Yes. MORE Ricky, LESS Angelina Jolie. MORE British comedians, LESS Whiny Americans. LESS Mick Jagger, MORE nip slips. Now I really think that's something we can all agree on.

Good as Gold

Did anyone know that Christian Bale wasn’t American? I did not. I just listened to his acceptance speech on the Golden Globes, and I was all “Who is that strange bearded man with that British accent? Oh, wowza. It’s Batman.” Anyway, I’m decompressing, getting my awards show fix, after just the loveliest weekend. Friday night lasted until about 4 a.m. I haven’t been up that late in too long. I went for game night at Claire’s house after work, and then I wrongly assumed I’d be going home to a quiet, boring night home. Instead, I spent 5 hours playing Xbox Kinect with Geo, his friend Guam, and Perek. Three boys + 1 girl + lots of beer + Xbox Kinect Dance Games = waaaaaaay too much fun. So much fun, in fact, that I’ve adjusted my financial plan for the immediate future. I will be selling my Wii, with which I’ve had many great times, and buying the Kinect. And the dance games. If you’ve ever played them, you’ll know why. And when I bust out a Double Dig ‘Em at the next wedding I attend, you’ll DEFINITELY understand.

So then on Saturday, I saw Black Swan with Geo. Holy crazy movie, Batman! It was an awesome movie, but I definitely had to cover my eyes a number of times. I hate feet, and I did not expect a movie about crazy ballerinas to focus so heavily on disfigured foot images. Gaaaa-ross. But, it’s a great movie. Def go see it. Then we got home and actually watched Saturday Night Live for the first time in, oh I don’t know, how long has it been since Adam Sandler was on? I was just really relieved to know I was not alone, when after checking Facebook all night, I saw an awful lot of rad people talking about SNL. Maybe it’s the cool thing to stay in on Saturday night now. If so, I’m definitely an early adopter. But, if not, then it was totally a fluke and it’ll never again.

Golden Globes Update: Yay! Gemma (Katey Sagal) from Sons of Anarchy just won for Best Supporting Actress in a TV Show - Drama. Yay! Love that show. It’s sadly underrated, and truly an incredible show. Watch it, if you aren’t already.

And today the Farkle Family went bowling. I don’t exactly know WHY we went bowling, we’re more the sit-around-and-drink-wine-and-make-fun-of-each-other types, but it was my mom’s birthday, and we were feeling a little sassy. Quick side note: As I was getting ready, I commented quietly to myself that I needed a haircut. Geo piped in and said “Yeah, and you need to paint your nails.” Ladies, don’t ever complain about a guy NOT noticing something about you. It’s when they start noticing little things like that that you feel like punching them.

Anyway, bowling was fun. My parents, Prinna and her family, Peter and his wife Nicole (who, by the way just announced she’s pregnant! Yay! Congrats Peter and Nicole!), Perek and his wife Leah, and Geo and I all went and tossed some big balls around. I ALWAYS forget that I’m really bad at bowling. I keep, like, just ASSUMING I’m good and I get there and bowl a 42. I nearly got beat by my 5 year-old niece. Plus, my thumb really hurts now. God, life is hard sometimes.

Golden Globes Update: Um, Justin Bieber? Really? He’s presenting an award and, uh, looks GOOD. Dapper, almost. His usually gross hair looks, well, GOOD. He actually looks like a boy I’d have a crush on in 6th grade and maybe kiss his poster at night, and not some shlub plucked out of an Aeropostale store. Fine, okay, I get the appeal.

Needless to say, my so-called “diet” went straight out the window this weekend, though. Friday night, my “dinner” was 3 slices of pizza at 3 a.m. and lunch/dinner today was a pepper jack cheeseburger (with jalapenos, obvs) and fries. Oh, and a very healthy-sized slice of red velvet cake. Watching all these women on the Golden Globes right now (oh, and the freaky-skinny Natalie Portman in Black Swan) is making me seriously consider introducing a little bulimia in my life.

I hate the end of weekends. It’s like, okay, “I hope you had your fun, missy, because it’s over.” It’s so much pressure, sometimes. And how sad is it that I’m starting to rate my weekends based on number of naps achieved?! I’m getting old. I joked to Geo that our house felt so cold because I’m old and my skin is getting thin. He laughed, and again suggested I get to work taking care of my nails.

Golden Globes Final Update: Could I love Natalie Portman any more? No. I could not. I adore her. I want to be her. She’s not the best public speaker, but I love her, and I’m super glad I saw her award-winning movie this weekend, disfigured feet and all. Lovely. She’s great. Please don’t go crazy or get cheated on in epic proportions. You’re fabulous.

Okay, in closing, here’s my little Golden Globes-ish speech for this weekend. I want to thank my mom for having a birthday, my family for making bowling even more fun than making fun of people who go bowling, Geo for keeping me grounded and focused when it comes to maintaining my personal hygiene, Xbox Kinect for bringing friends together and reminding me that I’m very good at dancing when everyone around me is drunk, and finally, thanks to Hollywood for making me realize all my dreams could come true with diamonds and a well-balanced diet of burgers and bulimia.

Story of a Lifetime WINNER!

Well, I've FINALLY chosen my Story of a Lifetime winner! Thanks so much for all the great submissions (Kim told me her friend Gretchen and her family turned the whole thing into something of a drinking game, which I not only support, I would like to be involved in next time. Call me.) Thanks for all the awesome stories! I laughed, I cried, I ate snacks. But big ups to Liz, Robin and Jessica all from Minnesota for submitting this awesomely cheesy, chock full of Lifetimey goodness!! So, coming soon to Lifetime TV: AMNESIA MOM.

Setting: Minneapolis and South Dakota (Mount Rushmore Area), circa 2010
Characters: Voey (rhymes with Zoe, also we think this will be a hot baby name in 2011 upon the release of this film), a sassy teenager who is suffering from a mysterious nose ring infection that just wont go away. Vanessa, Voey’s "mother" who has an evil way about her. She is hiding the true secret of Voey’s “medical condition” and their true relationship. Violet, Vanessa’s beautiful and kind twin sister born 2 seconds earlier who is currently living with amnesia in South Dakota, following a car accident 15 years earlier that left her with no memory of who she is or any details of her life. She has been working as a waitress to pay off her medial bills. Recently, Violet has been having re-occurring dreams of having a teenage daughter with a rare disease.

Synopsis: Story opens on a car, after it has flipped three times and sits in ditch off dark highway. Violet’s bloody hand reaches out and attempts to wave for help before giving up and falling to her side. She looks at her husband in the passenger seat. Is he dead? She looks behind her at her infant in the back. Is she dead? Feeling certain unconsciousness setting in, Violet focuses all of her remaining strength to look in the rearview mirror at her infant daughter, Voey, strapped in a car seat. She then sees another face staring back at her in the mirror. Is it her own face in the mirror? Where are the wounds that her face surely has after such a horrific car accident? “It can’t be my own reflection,” Violet thought. Could it be… her evil twin sister, Vanessa? Violet watches helplessly as the mysterious stranger in the back unstraps baby Voey and kidnaps her. She tries desperately to scream but only a weak whisper comes out. “Vanessa….” Just then, Violet passes into unconsciousness, never again to remember what she had just experienced.

Cue opening credits…

*** Sixteen Years Later*** A young girl, age sixteen, named Voey is suffering from what she believes is just a sudden nasty nose ring infection. But her doctor and her “mother” Vanessa are being quite secretive about the diagnosis. Fed up with being kept in the dark by her mother (Voey has always sensed an evilness about her) she decides to take matters into her own hands and tears through her mother’s office. She finds a thin accordion file with “Voey” scratched across the top in thick marker. She rips it open and finds only a few pictures from recent years. "Why aren’t there any pictures of me as a baby?" she wonders. She digs a little deeper through boring crap: her first tooth that she lost, a postcard that she sent from summer camp, a receipt for her bike. “Where are all of my important documents? No birth certificate, no social security card?” At the bottom of the file she spots a small blue post-it with the phrase Endomisitisis Psychoeroticitis neatly printed on it. A quick iPhone search (movie to be sponsored by Apple…lots of product plugs periodically) reveals that Endomisitisis Psychoeroticitis, MSP for short, is a rare disease that can only be passed from mother to daughter. MSP causes ugly, hideous, grotesque cancerous spots on your nose and can only be cured by mixing the biological mothers blood with the daughter’s blood. Mixed blood transfusion MUST occur immediately as patients will die within 72 hours of first outbreak without it.

Voey suddenly feels weak. She touches her nose ring. It’s not an infection at all, is it? She runs over to the family Mac (Apple product plug #2) and pulls up the calendar. Her nose has been infected for 2 days. That only leaves her…24 hours to find antidote!!!! Panicked, Voey looks back at the blue post-it. There is something written on the back: MOTHER NOT A MATCH. Zoey vomits. “My mother…isn’t my mother?!?!” she gasps, “I was kidnapped!!!!” Realization hits Voey just as she faints. While unconscious, she has the same dream that her REAL mother, Amesia Mom Violet, has been having for several months. It’s suddenly clear to both of them. They MUST meet and combine their blood to make an antidote! It must be now. And it must be at Mount Rushmore!

Montage of Voey and Violet each rushing to Mount Rushmore. Flash to evil Vanessa arriving home, finding her trashed office and realizing that Voey has learned the truth. She sets out after Voey to prevent her and Violet from meeting and discovering that SHE caused the car crash in the first place. It was all an evil plot of Vanessa’s to steal her sisters baby after learning that she could never have a child of her own. After all, Violet always had the perfect life, she was prettier and more popular with woodland creatures than Vanessa. She had the perfect job and perfect husband. She was the good twin, and Vanessa got all of the “left over” genes. Evil Vanessa wanted Violet to know the pain Vanessa had felt her whole life.

Movie climaxes with all three characters meeting on the nose of Abraham Lincoln. There is a struggle and evil Vanessa falls and is dangling off the tip of nose. Violet and Voey consider letting her fall to her death as they piece together all of the years of torture that Vanessa has put them through. Just then a handsome doctor comes swinging across Washington’s eyebrows. “Stop!” he shouts, “You have to combine your blood and make the antidote now!!” The handsome doctor whips out a petri dish, mixes up antidote and injects Voey. The color suddenly returns to her cheeks and the heinous, gaping sores in her nose begin to heal instantly. Violet walks over to her sister still dangling off the tip of Lincoln’s nose. It's just not in her kind nature to let her sister fall to her death, even if Vanessa was the one who orchestrated a car crash, killing Violet’s husband, leaving her with amnesia while Vanessa kidnapped her only child and fully intended on letting that child die of a rare cancerous nose blister disease all to keep her own past deeds a secret. She pulls her sister to safety and they embrace. Evil murderous plan be dammed. Sisterly love always triumphs.

Fade to last shot of Violet, Vanessa and Voey sharing a picnic in a meadow and swapping stories of the years that they missed of each others lives. Voey’s nose is completely healed and she is carrying an iPad (Apple plug #3). The handsom doctor is waiting in the car for the ladies to finish lunch. He and Violet have fallen in love and are planning a fall wedding. As the screen fades to black, the camera closes in on Vanessa’s face. We see an evil look flash across her eyes as she looks over at the handsom doctor’s car. She glances back to Violet and we see the slight snarling of Vanessa’s lips. Maybe there is still evil jealousy in her after all. Fade all the way to black. Leave open ended for potential sequel.

Roll credits.

Casting-wise we are thinking former Melrose Place actress Daphne Zuniga in the roles of Violet/Vanessa and Selena Gomez as Voey.

Here are photos of us working on original storyboard, as proof that this story is an original:


Congratulations, ladies! Thanks for this awesome story! When you get your shirt, post a photo on the Pharon Square Facebook Page and make all your friends jealous!!

Quick Reminder / Nag-a-thon

Hey guys, I just wanted to give you a quick, and FINAL, reminder that I'll finally be choosing my Lifetime/Cheesy Movie Premise winner this weekend! Get your submissions in for your chance to be have the story published on pharonsquare.com AND a radical Pharon Square t-shirt!

Methods of Submission: Your best bet is to email your synopsis/outline/etchings/summary/one-liners to me at pharonsquare@gmail.com. I guess you could also POST it on the Pharon Square Fan Page on Facebook (which you BETTER be a Fan of, or I'll sneak into your house and rearrange all your cupboards, making you think you've gone insane, thereby catapulting you into a long, slow descent towards a massive psychotic break), but that could give away your bomb ideas.

Deadline: I'll be choosing the winner this weekend. If you're a rebel/outlaw, you could wait until Sunday night to submit, but that could be too late. If you want to play it safe, I'd send it in before then. Either way, I'm too flaky to give a specific time, so hedge your bets and get 'em in early.

Good luck!

Wednesday Winner (For Real! There are Prizes!)

Well, I promised a big ol’ announcement, right? I had this big plan to do something FUN for a change, you know? Shake things up. Light a fire under everyone’s, well, you know what I mean…I wrote a bunch of words that eventually added up to something like “Something cool is about to happen, and you have to be a part of it or you’ll regret it on your death bed”. So, I’m kind of stuck with going through with it.

Hopefully I’ve piqued your interest. Because I’m taking a leap of faith here. I’m putting my hopes and dreams of a Lifetime movie-making career in your hands, Readers. I’m hereby holding a Lifetime (a.k.a. Cheesy) Movie Story Writing Contest!!!! That’s right, guys. For the next week, I’m going to hand the reigns of bad TV storyline writing over to you. I know you guys have the creativity, talent, and 5-10 minutes it takes to write a masterpiece.

Here’s the dealio: Go ahead and put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, rather) and put together your best bad movie script. It can be a quick synopsis, a lengthy outline, a paragraph, or an entire story. Whatever. Just give me your best cheesy movie premise. Include character backgrounds, plot twists and a happy or horribly depressing ending. When you think you’ve got the best submission, send an email to me at: pharonsquare@gmail.com

>Make sure you put “Story of a Lifetime“ in the subject line, so I don‘t dismiss it as more fan mail, which I’m still anxiously awaiting to receive. (You can also submit it as on the Pharon Square Facebook page.) Send it anonymously or attach your name - I can‘t guarantee I won‘t hold it against you, though. The winner will be notified by email and will be able to start planning their parade at that time.

NOW: FOR THE PRIZES!! Okay, so first and foremost, your story (or at least a version of it, should I choose to do some creative editing) will appear as a guest feature on pharonsquare.com. Direct your friends to your genius! Put it on your resume! Scan it onto a t-shirt! Do whatever you want!

Secondly you’ll ALSO win some crazy awesome Pharon Square swag! Impress your friends when you show up to your next party with your very own, one-of-a-kind, Pharon Square t-shirt! (Disclaimer: the shirt is not one-of-a-kind. Others will be able to buy/win their own in the future.)

I’m expecting some crazy good stories here, people. Don’t let me down. This time next week, I’ll choose the winner, and they will enjoy the eternal fame and adulation that come with being featured on this prestigious blog. If you have any questions, post a comment or send an email.

Good luck, everyone!

Rock the Vote

Did you vote? I really hope so. I really do, because whatever your views are, they do no good sitting alone in your head. Even if you think you HAVE no opinion on anything and think you don’t care about who wins because all politicians are basically evil, there IS an issue out there that affects you. And the least you can do is get educated and fill out a ballot to do your part. I know that a lot of my friends vote. Many of them are well-informed, intelligent people, and many don’t even share my opinions. But I’m so glad they take an active role in who is elected. It’s downright irresponsible to choose not to vote.

Personally, I know how important voting is. During my senior year of high school, I was elected as The Biggest Flirt in my grade. It was truly an honor to be granted such a prestigious award. I knew, looking out among my constituents, that I had a duty to perform from that moment on. I would work tirelessly to reassure my compatriots they had indeed voted for the right girl for the job. I would not let them down. Later in the year, I would also be elected as The Biggest Flirt in band, as well. And yes, I was the incumbent, though no race is ever a guaranteed win. It was a privilege to win not once, but twice. I was humbled by the overwhelming acknowledgment by my peers.

But I know the heartbreak, people. I know the pains of losing, or more accurately, never being elected. I was not captain of the soccer team, I wasn’t on a chair of my sorority, and as far as I know, I currently hold no public office. But the most devastating loss was in high school, that same year I bounded to the heights with my twin Flirt of the Year awards.

I thought I was a shoe-in for being on Homecoming Court. In my high school, the days before Homecoming Week consisted of the student body voting for the members of Court. Then, after the voting, and as a kick-off to the week, members of the elected court were woken up in the middle of the night, and shuffled off to their first exclusive Members-Only breakfast in pajamas. The rest of the week consists of these 18 or so girls and boys running the school from atop their golden high-horses, creating their own exclusive club of inside jokes and private parties. I wanted that so desperately. My boyfriend at the time ended up on Court, my best friends were on Court, and yet, I sat up that night, in adorable pajamas, hoping that they would come and pick me up and whisk me away to Perkins for chocolate chip pancakes. They did not. It was a crushing defeat. Or, rather, willful negligence.

I have known the highs and lows. I know the power of a name on a ballot, and of its absence as well. Sometimes all it comes down to is whether or not you like someone’s last name. It’s a clumsy popularity contest, full of empty promises (“I promise! I’ll be the best Homecoming Queen ever! And no more taxes on the middles class!”), and little side deals made with nerds and jocks and giant corporations with “special interests”.

So I get out there and cast my ballot, in the hopes that the person for whom I vote will not sit up in bed alone waiting for the party to come and sweep them into the glorious warmth of popularity and acceptance. And my expectation is that, if elected, they will do their job as I performed mine during my Reign of Flirting: With the respect, honor, and gratitude of those who put them there.

Emmy AwardZzzzz

Yay! Live blogging from the Emmys! (well, from my couch, WATCHING the Emmys). I love me some Emmy Awards Shows. I’m about 4 minutes in, and already totally in love with the opening sequence. It’s like watching a professionally-produced high school prom. “Oh my God! I know him! That’s Hugo from Lost!!” Ooooh, I just love it.

I watched the E! special before the Emmys, where a bunch of people interview the stars going in to the show. They have to compliment the royal blue seashell dress, and be cordial to the rando wife Nobody that insists on standing next to her star husband. I could not do that job. How do you stifle the laughter?? Tell me, Seacrest!

Okay, so there are a lot of acceptance speeches going on now. Snooze. I wonder what my acceptance speech would be. I’d probably say something weird like “Thank you, Spanxx, for all your support.” Crickets.

I can’t get over Neil Patrick Harris. I just love him. His suit is completely debonair. And that says something, considering all suits look exactly the same to me. But, he looks fantastic. Everybody else just looks…shiny. Speaking of which, I didn’t realize that Kim Kardashian was the unofficial mascot of the Emmys this year. She’s everywhere. Please go away.

I’m legitimately holding my breath for LOST to win everything. Like, everything. Best supporting actress in a comedy? Lost. Best 3D effects in a mini-documentary? Lost. Best show in the history of TV? Lost. Noooo! First nomination, first loss for Lost. Ugh. This had better not be a trend.

Okay, second loss for LOST. This show is clearly rigged. This is ridiculous. Meanwhile, I’ve never seen any of the shows on which the nominees for Best Supporting Actress appear. Again, snooze.

My roommate Tina correctly notes how odd it is that all these actors are so, uh, uncomfortable in front of cameras. It’s like the winner of Top Chef not being able to make Mac n’ Cheese.

Another loss for Lost. I’ve about had it with this. If it weren’t for Betty White, I would have already turned this off. Oooop, hold on. Jimmy Fallon as Elton John? Alright, I’m listening…

There’s some downtime. I find myself thinking about the dresses I saw before the show started. Lots were gorgeous (especially the gold sequined dress worn by Glee‘s Heather Morris). If I were invited to the Emmys, I feel like I’d go way overboard and wear a ginormous pink princess dress with a tiara and sceptor. Also, the more feathers and sequins, the better. It’d be a wonderful travesty. But how do you “hold back” on your first Emmys?? Yeah, I wouldn’t.

Humanitarian Award. I’ll watch because it’s George Clooney. Can he do ANYthing wrong? No, he can’t. Beautiful speech. But more importantly, beautiful face, Clooney. Thanks for that.

Yay! There’s Tom Hanks! I’ve been looking for him!

Yup, just almost fell asleep. Speeches are too long, and awards are for people I neither know nor like. God, people have pretty terrible speeches tonight. Their feigned surprise at winning the award has also gotten old and played out. I want to see a giant reaction of disappointment or joy. None of this crappy calm head-nod junk. Every once in awhile, I’d love to see someone react like a normal person. I’ve been practicing my reactions in the mirror for years. When I win? Fist-pump, self high-five, followed by finger guns at the losers. When I lose? Well, let’s be real. That’s not going to happen.

Does anyone else remember Claire Danes with Kool-Aid dyed hair on “My So-Called Life”? She was so cool. Well, she looks pretty nice tonight too. I love her dress. I miss the Kool-Aid hair, though. And Jared Leto.

I’m sorry, is that JACK KEVORKIAN? At the Emmys?! That’s just, well, that’s just wrong. Maybe he’s there to put this show out of its misery. There’s no life left. Paging Dr. Kevorkian…seriously, I’ve lost all interest in the show right now. Guess what world! I don’t have HBO. None of these awards mean anything to me. Where’s the award nomination for Lifetime’s The Pregnancy Pact? That’s a great made-for-TV movie. What a shame. They got robbed. Also? If you want to be guaranteed an Emmy win, make a miniseries about a war or an old lady (who/what is a Temple Grandin?). Apparently, that’s an automatic win. Snooze.

FINALLY. The last two categories of the night. Oh, and another loss for Lost. That seals it. This show is totally rigged. Any show that snubs Lost AND The Pregnancy Pact is not a legit awards show. I’m over the Emmys. SPOILER ALERT! Only 3 shows won anything this year. Modern Family, Mad Men, and that Temple Grandin thing. Why have so many nominees? Just pick your favorite show that I don’t watch out of each category, give them all the awards, and call it a night, Emmy staff. Then I can have my Sunday night back. Well, I blame myself. I got sucked in by the sequins and shiny skin, like a moth to a very glittery flame. All those pretty, famous people together in one place? I can't NOT watch. Ugh, I'm such a sucker for TV celebrities...

Somebody Should Consider Putting Baby in A Corner

Hmph. I still haven’t made a decision on the grand, fabulous shoes I drooled over yesterday. The shopping high has waned a bit since my leisurely shopping trip yesterday turned me into a maniacal sociopath hell-bent on feeling incomplete without a pair of gray shoes. (This is not to say I won’t still buy them.)

Anyhoozle, I was thinking about World’s Best Game Ever that I made up on Friday night. Kim, Madeline, and I were hanging out at my house. The yawns were approaching quickly, we were slumped into the couches, and overall we were pretty pathetic. In order to get the blood pumping, I decided to invent said best game ever. Here’s the gist. Each person rolls a dice. The person who rolls the lowest number has to stand up in front of the other two and just dance to a randomly selected song for 30 seconds. And if the others didn’t think you danced long or hard enough, Mr. Jagermeister was waiting to punish you accordingly. Um, yeah. It’s pretty much the most hysterical thing ever. I mean, how often do you dance BY YOURSELF in front of other people!? But we did it. And it was oddly liberating. Sure, the others would laugh hysterically, but it was thrilling being forced to just let loose.

I don’t know exactly when or if it happened, but I’m concerned that I’ve turned into a bad dancer. I remember in high school cheerleading I was put at the very front for dance routines because I was actually pretty good. Also? I won a Running Man contest in 6th grade. I mean, that SAYS something, you know? I could do any dance, I could release and restrict my body parts appropriately, and I had range. Now, I just hop up and down on a beer-soaked dance floor at the bars. I do the totally skill-less “punching my arms repeatedly up and down in the air to the beat of the song”. Sometimes I’ll do two arms, other times just one. If I’m really feelin’ it, I’ll alternate. There was also a time when I thought I could pop-and-lock. No. Just, No. People probably considered bringing over a wooden spoon for me to bite on.

I don’t get it. I’ve got rhythm, I’m entirely mobile, I’m pretty good at following directions in a song (“Two hops this time, criss cross! Now, Charlie Brown. Everybody clap your hands!” - Yup, real song. Real AWESOME song!) I feel like I’ve got what it takes, Coach. Yet, when the music comes on, up go my arms and down goes any chance of being cast in Step Up: 3D.

I will offer this one explanation. A few years back, I lived by myself. I loved the freedom. I was watching So You Think You Can Dance, and I, inspired by the music, decided that Yes. I think I can dance. So I flung myself around my apartment, spinning and jumping, shaking my, well, everything. I was sweaty and laughing at myself. It was great. And then. Behind the cords of the TV were two beady eyes staring at me. Mocking me. It wasn’t until after I had silently shamed myself that I realized it was a mouse. I screamed. Whether it was the fact that it was the first mouse I had ever seen, or the humiliating feeling that the mouse was laughing at me and judging my dancing, who’s to say? But I screamed, and hopped up on my bed, and never danced like that again.

Maybe it’s like what happens in the movies. Julia Stiles gives up dancing because her mother was in a car accident in “Save the Last Dance“. Channing Tatem gives up dancing (for a second) in “Step Up” because his rep as a tough guy was seriously in jeopardy. And hello? Maureen gives up dance for L.O.V.E. love in “Center Stage” (and because the poor girl just wanted to eat a piece of pizza without the constant fear of having to wear Spanx under her tights and tutu). Perhaps I too have had to make the selfless sacrifice. I shall dance alone no more, lest I risk infesting my home with snarky, judgmental mice. The only thing my milk shake brings…is mice.

However, I’ll make an exception in the case of World’s Best Game. Yeah, I’m dancing by myself, but I’m not alone. My only regret is that I didn't perform my award-winning Running Man that night. Oh well, there's always next time. And there WILL be a next time.

And the Emmy Goes To...

Okay, VH1, I give. I love you and your incessant way of showing sub-par shows until my eyes glaze over and the remote drops from my hand. The way you frequently show them in marathons makes my heart swell. What they’ve figured out at VH1 is the golden rule of television programming. Air mediocre shows, and air them all the time.

Yes, any network can take a whole host of top-notch actors, pay them buttloads of money, and spend millions of dollars on writers and editors and create a great show. Go right ahead, NBC. But what VH1 has managed to do is completely remove the quality cast members, the big budget locations, and those pesky plot lines. And people flock to audition for these shows. Willingly. Repeatedly.

There are three types of shows on VH1, as far as I can tell. There’s the Redemption Shows featuring formerly quasi-famous people making one last stab at their 15 minutes of fame. This includes shows like Celebrity Rehab, Celebrity Fit-Club, Surreal Life, Flava of Love, Rock of Love. To an extent, any of the “I Love the 80‘s, 90‘s or New Millenium shows also fit in here, based on the questionable quality of social commentary given by D-listers like Hal Sparks, Mo Rocca, and Biz Markie. I wonder if they work for Rubik's Cubes and Backstreet Boys Cds.

Then there are the shows that launch the careers of so many impetuous young men and women who will eventually end up back on the Redemption shows (ah, the circle of life). These are shows like Tough Love, The OCD Project, The Pick-Up Artist, and You’re Cut Off. Personally, these are my fave. The cast members are on their way to their own show a la Flava Flav. It’s like I’m watching the process of concentrated carbon turning into a diamond. Or, whatever makes cubic zirconia. You start with no-namers, pick a quick and vague theme, have Dr. Drew appear in some way, then just throw in a twist or ten. All hell breaks loose. Stars (or black holes, whatever) are born.

Finally, there’s actual MUSIC on VH1. Yes, people. There is a Music Video Countdown Show, and every morning they air Jump Start. These are shows that feature ACTUAL MUSIC VIDEOS. A concept that once ruled the world sadly disappeared after Carson Daly started going grey. Bands pay big bucks to make videos! Where are they airing them!? The answer, my friends, is from 5 a.m. - 8 a.m. every weekday morning on VH1. And lest ye forget, VH1 also brought Pop-Up Video into my life. My one suggestion to the programming geniuses at VH1, if I may be so bold, is to bring back Pop-Up Video. Immediately.

I don’t need more medical dramas. And until they make CSI: Minneapolis and fire David Caruso, I’ll pass. My one beloved scripted show, Lost, is gone forever, and I don’t get HBO. So unless you want me to slit my wrists, please stop asking me if I watch True Blood. I don’t. I watch The Top 100 Songs of the 90s.