Dear Crabby

Your questions, my answers! Good questions, this week guys! A couple of these were tough! I hope I did them justice!

Dear Crabby,

You have LOST Season 37 on DVD but no DVD player, a bottle of Fess Parker's 2008 Pinot Noir but no corkscrew, and a pack of cigarettes but no lighter. It's raining out. What do you do?

Hugs and kisses,
MacGuyer

Dear MacGuyver,
Number one, how did you get Lost season 37? I’m intrigued as I have only seen (and drooled over) seasons 1 – 6 which I was led to believe were all that existed. Tell me more. Okay, let’s see here. It sounds like you are in a bit of a pickle. Here’s what I’d do: Shove the cork into the bottle and begin enjoying the wine irresponsibly and quickly. Then I'd take the cigarettes and head to the black market part of town (I'll have the guts to go there alone because of all the wine, obvs). I'll tell a guy the cigarettes are made out of all kinds of illegal narcotics so as to up the street value. Then I can trade them for a DVD player with the registration number scratched off. Go back home, watch the movies. Duh!

Dear Crabby,

I've got a big first date coming up this weekend. What do I wear???

Thanks!
-Nervous is Nebraska

What's up, Nervous? First of all, you gotta calm down. Dressing for a first date is SOOOOO easy! Assuming you are a GIRL, just wear dark jeans, black shirt, colorful high heels, hair down. Done. Unless you wanna be a little more, uh aggressive. If that's the case, change the jeans to a short skirt. If you're trying to GIVE the milk away, keep everything but the black shirt, which you should just leave at home I guess. Now, you could always go the LBD (Little Black Dress) route, but it depends on what you're doing on your date. If you're going rock climbing, or horseback riding, or going to like Applebees, I'd skip the dress route. Then again, maybe you should just wear whatever makes you comfortable. Oooh, or you could do leggings with a cute t-shirt dress with a belt and some bomb heeled boots, with your hair all wavy and like slept-in. Then again, maybe stick with jeans but do a funky t-shirt and lots of fun jewelry. Oh boy, Nervous. I don't know. Turns out, this is a very difficult decision. It's just really important to give the best possible first-impression, without looking like you're trying too hard, but you also want to let him know you care about your looks. Crap, now I'M nervous for you. Yikes. You better get started on going through all your clothes. Good luck, lady. You're going to need it.

Dear Crabby,

What do you do when you are feeling crabby? I got the crabbys...

Signed,
Itchy in Rhode Island

Dear Itchy in Rhode Island,
I believe there’s a special shampoo for those pesky crabs. Or you could just shave off all your hair. Either way: Ew.

How'd I do this week? Good stuff? Think you could do better? Jot down any other pieces of advice you may have down there in the comments. Good luck, though, I'm pretty sure my answers are the best ones ever. If you find yourself with a burning question, email me at pharonsquare@gmail.com.

Miss. Elaneous

Well, for the first time in the history of this blog, I'm gonna have to phone it in. I just got home from Wine Night hanging out with Lana and Val and I'm officially exhausted of good topics. I got nothin'. Between the three of us, we solved a number of world issues. From jobs to boyfriends (I believe Valerie wins all contests because her boyf works in Hollywood and I get to enjoy the perks of free pre-released DVDs of Oscar-winning movies) to appropriate wedding etiquette, we nailed 'em all.

It's late. I'm tired, and I just had a frighteningly grown-up conversation with Geo, so I'm drained. I keep sitting here, waiting to write something all clever and/or profound and yet I continue to come up short. There's something about some good ol' female conversation that knocks the complainy/deep thought out of me.

We talked about first kisses, first time we learned what really happens during birth (EWWWW), and why there are so many TV shows that feature some fatty/lazy dude inexplicably married to a clever, hot woman. I postured that we need more shows with normal, well-rounded women married to some cutey Calvin Klein models. If this TV show exists, please do tell...

We skimmed the topic of Anonymity in a Digital World, and we all realized: Privacy is Dead. So that was a lesson learned. Also, kids raised in sterile environments develop more allergies than kids raised in normal households. Yeah, it's true. Sorry, OCD parents. You're just not really helping anything.

Okay, I'm calling it a night. Do you have any insights you'd like to share with people before we embark on the weekend? If so, please share. And try and make them very prolific. We have standards here, people.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

(In this thread of random, not-quite-giving-it-your-allness, I give you a great song to blast this weekend. It's random. It's not great, but I just love it. And it's really very catchy....)

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.

9021Ohhhh! I Get it Now!

Eeee! My friend Taylor is, at this very minute, having a baby. Gross! I mean, yay! I asked her how it was going, and she texted me back, "I just got an epidural. I love the epidural man." Haha. I'm so excited for her! I can't wait to see a bunch of naked baby pictures very very soon. Congrats, Taylor!

Welp, it's another night indoors, safe from the frigid biting wind that eats my face off every time I even look out a window. Sanna and I are crashed in front of the TV watching World's Girliest Shows. It's been made glaringly obvious to me lately how different TV has been since the boys moved out. With them, it was all MANswers and reality shows and Family Guy (oh my!). But now it's E! News, Teen Mom, and Lifetime movies. Tonight is the girliest night of all though. Later is Gossip Girl, but first is the train wreck that is the revamped 90210. To give you an idea of what we're dealing with here, I just heard this line from a girl who recently gave her illegitimate child up for adoption: "I am a teen former drug addict pop star on the cover of all the tabloids. I can't be a MOM, but I can be a reality star." Right.

So yeah, the new 90210, just like the old one, has the liars, the cheaters, the drug addicts, and the money. The premise is the same, too. The hilariously naive family from the Midwest moves out to West Bev, and gets a serious reality check when they see how them rich folk live. Poor, dumb Midwesterners. Then, voila! They are beautiful and end up fitting in just fine, because they are also rich. But this new 90210 has more gay people and celebrity scandals and fewer Jason Priestly's and old lady Ahhhhndreas. More trust funds, less side burns. Most importantly, though, the new one has no Ian Ziering, and I think we can all appreciate that.

Full disclosure: I lost interest in the original 90210 after probably the second season or so. Yes, I totally loved Brenda and the whole Walsh clan, because they were fresh off the Minnesota toboggan - Minnesota? They're just like me! And I thought I was destined to marry Luke Perry. But I didn't understand the entire context of the show. Like what "abortions" were, or what it meant that Dylan "cheated on" Brenda. What, like in Scrabble? That just didn't sound like such a big deal, geeeeez. So I bailed on the gang at the Peach Pit and went back to my obsession with Paula Abdul.

When I joined my sorority like 10 years later, the show was still on, but it had gone through quite the transformation and I was more disinterested than ever before. Now the whole gang was all living on their own, and wearing lots of dark eyeshadow, and just sleeping around. Plus, Kelly Kapowski had joined the cast, and it would appear that the virginal Donna Martin was no longer virginal, and we were expected to take Brian Austin Green seriously as a DJ and/or rapper. Really? Riiiiiight. But I forced myself to watch it, because all the girls in my house loved it. I had missed the last decade of the show, so I was a wee bit behind. I sat there in the informal living room at the House, surrounded by girls who were saying things like "Wait, didn't he JUST have a baby with so and so?" or "God, I can't stand the way she did that one thing to that guy and then they both got that disease!" I never spoke a word, but uttered fake gasps of disbelief as needed. I still just didn't get it.

Alas, I FINALLY got sucked in to the new 9-0. I've seen exactly 2 1/2 episodes but I'm pretty caught up, and I already know that Silver used to sleep with Teddy, who just came out and is now dating Ian, and Naomi was raped by some dude who then tried to blackmail her and attack her, but she took him down by - crazy! - spraying hair spray in his face. Girl power! And it actually makes so much sense to me this time around. And while I could appreciate the adorable floral print overalls and kicky sunflower hats of the old episodes, the fashion on the new version is far superior. Balenciaga AND Givenchy? Yes, please!

And to think, I could have missed out on yet another interpretation of life in good ol' Beverly Hills. But thanks to the overflow of estrogen seeping in to every nook and cranny of my house, I was spared the humiliation of not knowing what Lori Laughlin is up to these days.

Okay, I know that I've probably lost 90% of you by now. I know many of you are all "Uh, I could not care less about this show, and I have no idea what the Peach Pit is." And, like you, I used to think I was better than those crazy kids at West Beverly. But like the eternal love of Dylan and Kelly, once I got a fresh taste I just couldn't stay away. Stupid fake teens, with your fake problems, and fake noses...why can't I quit you?

I will say this for sure, though. The old theme song is WAY BETTER than the new, waterier version. Sometimes you just can't improve on the original.

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.

Get Lost

“We have to go back.” If you ever watched Lost you know what I’m talking about. And tonight, friends, We Went Back. Kim and Nick came over, we opened some beer and wine, and got to work watching the last season of Lost and going back to The Island. I’m going to go ahead and spare you non-Losties and NOT write a whole blog about how much I totally love and miss Lost. I am fighting the urge the write things like “Waaaaaalt!” and “Chahlie, stay away from ma bay-bay”, and talk about things like how much I hate Kate and her constant “I’m coming with you” statements. I’ll refrain. But I will tell you this: If you didn’t or won’t watch Lost, your life will be unfulfilled.

Oh, I also want to say a quick little thing to Losties: Did you all hear about the 30 or so people who hit the JACKPOT by playing the Lost numbers in the lottery?! CRAZY! One of the creators of Lost joked that all the people who won are cursed. HILARIOUS.

Alright, moving on, I’m going to just confess something. Lost is not just a show for me. It’s actually a way of life for me. I get lost allllllll the time. As in: hopelessly, desperately, pathetically lost. I have no internal compass. I have no idea where west is from where I am right now, and if you asked me what part of Minneapolis I live in, I would tell you “Right near the Walker museum”. Because I have no idea if I’m in north, south, east, or west Minneapolis. It’s like my hopeless relationship with math. Nothing logical makes sense in my head.

I think maybe it has a little something to do with a couple things. One: I was not a good driver when I got my license. My mom restricted me from driving any further than a 4 block radius of my house. Rightfully so, though. About a week after being allowed to drive to school, I rear-ended someone. I'm an idiot. Anyway, TWO: I've only ever lived in Iowa and Minnesota, which all pretty much look the same to me. There's always just like a main road, and a bunch of side streets. I take the main roads until Google Maps tells me to exit. Not difficult.

Kim and I were driving from school in Iowa City back home to Minneapolis. We were trying a new route that I had looked up. Kim was hesitant. About 2 hours into the ride, we came to the realization that we weren't exactly lost, but we certainly weren't taking the fastest way. She never took my directions again.

I think that by far, the most infamous example of my knack for getting lost was when I was driving from Padrin's house in Decorah, IOWA to Iowa City, IOWA. I figured it wouldn't be too difficult. I wrote down some directions, popped in a CD and went on my way. Two hours later, I'm in Illinois. I know you're thinking, "But Pharon, didn't you figure out that you were lost when you were CROSSING OVER THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER?" No. No, I didn't know that crossing the giant bridge was sending me into an entirely different state, because shockingly, I have no idea where the Mississippi River is in relation to anything else. It's in the middle of the country. That's all I know. But driving around in Iowa/Illinois looks exactly the same, so I didn't realize I was lost until waaaaay too late. I had to call my work from a gas station to explain I would be late for my waitressing shift. When they pressed me for more details, I pretended I lost the signal and hung up.

I wish I had a better sense of direction, I really do. But honestly, with GPS, Google street view, and everything else, I don't get lost all that often. As long as I follow the directions, I'm great. But if I miss one turn, or one exit is under construction, I'm screwed. Did you guys know that if you call 411 and give them your current location and your destination, they can GIVE YOU DIRECTIONS? I know this, because it's on my speed dial. Well, it was before I had a phone with internet. The point is, I'll never have to suffer through the embarrassment of stopping in to gas station to ask for directions to place that ends up being "Uh, that's literally down the block" ever again.

Oh well. I guess I'm stuck using the numerous technological devices at my disposal to get from point A to point B.

But, back to Lost. We are re-watching the last season of the show, and I'm just as enthralled as I was the first time I saw it. The odd thing is, for as complicated and twisty and turny as it is, I can follow the story. Now, if someone made me DRIVE to a different city to WATCH Lost, you can bet I'd never get there.

Have a great weekend, everyone! Losties, this one's for you...

Come On Down!

So, as you may know, I’m in the middle of a 2-week staycation from work. Last week was full of Christmas prep stuff, and now this week, I’m all laid back and enjoying the time off. It’s been loverly. I’ve made a major life decision too. I’ve decided that I’m going to go on a game show. And then win the million dollar jackpot. I made this decision this morning while I was getting ready to go over to Prinna’s to help her turn her office into a nursery. I was drying my hair and got absolutely sucked in to The Price is Right. And tonight, I caught an episode of Wheel of Fortune, which solidified my plan.

I don’t really watch a lot of game shows on an average day. I have nothing invested in them, you know, like I do with Glee or The Soup. No, game shows are basically good time killers. But tonight, watching Wheel, the guy won like $75,000. Just because he spun a wheel and played Hangman in front of an audience. I could TOTALLY do that. I’m not sure I’d want to be on Wheel of Fortune, though. So, I’ve done a little thinking and decided to become a millionaire on a show that doesn’t rely on arm strength and whether or not I can afford a vowel.

The Price is Right: Prinna LOVES this show. She went on the Vegas version of it when she, Padrin and my mom went to Sin City. I believe she won a washer/dryer or lifetime supply of glue or something. I personally couldn’t do this. Do YOU have any idea how much Gold Bond Medicated Powder costs? Cause I sure don’t. I wouldn’t have any idea how much a set of men’s luxury ties would cost, and wouldn’t make it past Contestant’s Row. Even if DID, I’d only have a chance at Plinko, because that game rules and is totally reliant on luck. Then comes that giant wheel, and I am certain I’d be the first person to spin it, fall on my head, cut my face open and end up with $0.35 anyway. Also, Bob Barker is gone. Nope, the price is wrong for me on this one.

Deal or No Deal: Definitely not. This has everything to do with odds, probability, percentages, and no, just…NO.

Cash Cab: I LOVE this show. It’s a game show, but it takes place IN A CAB. It’s all random trivia, most of which I would have an okay shot at guessing. Plus, even if you lose, you get a free cab ride at least partway to your destination. The one thing that concerns me is that I truly believe I’d be a very annoying contestant. I’d be too loud, too indecisive, and and screaming out “w00t!” more times than anyone ever should. I wish I could be on this show, but I don‘t even live in New York anyways (where the Cab is).

Family Feud: This won’t work for a number of reasons. One being that the total won isn’t all that much because you have to split it amongst the members of your family. Also, there’s NO way my family would agree to dress alike, high five each other every 2 seconds, and NOT berate someone for a bad answer. No, we take Feuds too seriously.

Jeopardy: The only way I’d win big money is if I were playing against kids or celebrities (who aren’t very bright as a whole), or if the categories are like “Britney’s Boyfriends”, “Kate Spade Bag Names”, or “Unscramble this Word” (because I’m really freaky good at that). Otherwise, I’d be leaving a loser.

Name That Tune: I think this is the one for me. I’ve never actually WATCHED this show, but if it ever came back on the air, I’d try out for it. And I’m really hoping that there’s a prize of a million dollars (if not, I would settle for Wheel of Fortune). I would consider that show Don’t Forget the Lyrics, but I just totally hate the hosts of those shows. Regardless, I’m fantastic at knowing the lyrics of songs, and being able to identify them very quickly. Yeah, if there’s a big bank to be won, I think this would definitely be my game show.

So, I guess I’ve got it narrowed down to two. Now I’ve got to work on adjusting my Five Year Plan to include a trip to LA, and an investment in outfits that look good on TV. Plus, I’ll have to make time for all the trips I’ll win to Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and Rome. What about you guys? Which show would you go on?

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!

Next on Lifetime TV: Snowplows of Hope

I watched a LOT of Lifetime TV this past weekend when I was snowed in. Like, so much that I should be embarrassed, but I don’t have the dignity to warrant such emotion. And to all you boys? I know. You don’t watch Lifetime. But I highly suggest you get in touch with this channel, as everyone needs a little Valerie Bertinelli in their life. Based on my newfound expertise on this channel, I’m thinking about submitting the following piece for production.

Place/Time: A nondescript Midwest town, after a heavy snowfall, circa 2010
Characters: Hope Rudetude, a bright young woman who has recently been undergoing therapy to deal with her complete emotional bankruptcy, and her childhood kidnapping and subsequent raping. And Chad Sadman, a snowplow driver whose work has suffered lately due to his chronic emotional breakdowns in light of the passing of his dog, Chance, and the infidelity of his ex-wife with his own father.
Cue narrator, James Earl Jones.

“What happens when a young, unemotional girl finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious, snowplowing stranger? Hope Rudetude is about to learn that sometimes, it’s okay to cry, and the mysterious stranger will find out that not every tear shed needs to be from sadness.”

Synopsis: Hope Rudetude is stuck in a snow bank outside her posh downtown apartment. She throws her hands in the air and exclaims, “OF COURSE! It just HAD to snow on the day I’m late to my mixed martial arts class!” She kicks the air around her in a frenzy of “haiYAHs!” Seeing this strange woman attack empty air, Chad Sadman feels a tear slip down his rough cheek. “She must feel so alone". He sniffs a little, wipes his dewy eye, and maneuvers his heavy snowplow through the treacherous snow. He pulls up next to her, “Can I help you out there, miss?” Their eyes lock. He, afraid of being rejected, starts to cry and looks away. She, overcome by the windy air, bats her damp eyelashes.

Cut to a montage of scenes where Chad and Hope are getting to know each other. Out for coffee, laughing at the museum, getting close at the movies, Hope teaching Chad some mixed martial arts moves, Chad sharing pictures of his beloved and dead companion Chance, and crying on Hope’s shoulder. His eyes are perpetually glassy and wet, her hands forever clenched in fists. They are a mismatch. Music is happy, light, jovial. Slowly, the music quiets. The scene fades out.

All of a sudden, the music swells up, and we see Hope throw a vase at Chad’s head, just barely missing him. The glass shatters in slow motion. Chad crumbles and sobs, “I just, I can’t go on without Chance! And I can’t stop being so sad because everyone will leave me, just like my ex-wife!” She yells “I love you, Chad Sadman, but I can’t BE who you want me to BE!” Quieter now, she says, “Not only was I kidnapped and raped by our mailman as a child, but I had all my emotional nerve centers removed so I could donate them to my twin sister who was about to die from apathy! I can’t FEEL because I LOVED HER TOO MUCH.” Hope crumbles to the ground, face red and eyes dry. Chad kneels by her side. He tilts her head up with his finger. “Then I will have to cry for the both of us, and you will need to be strong for both of us.” They embrace. Chad blinks away the tears. Hope wonders what is for dinner.

The next scene: A lovely Winter wedding. The newly married Mr and Mrs. Chad Sadman exchange their vows, share a kiss, and when they pull away, Chad smiles and dabs his eyes. He, finally, is happy and leans down to pet his new dog, Lucky. But as we close-up on Hope’s face, we see a single tear slip down her cheek. She touches the unfamiliar wetness, and looks up at Chad. She smiles, and at that very moment Hope realizes that though she cannot feel enough and Chad may feel too much, together, they feel perfectly. They ride off together in Chad's snowplow into the rest of their lives. Roll Credits, Cue Taylor Swift song.

OMG, sobfest! I’m going to try and line up Jodie Sweetin for the role of Hope Rudetude, and I think that guy from the last Bachelor (Jake Pavelka) would be a perfect Chad Sadman. I'd also like to throw in an unplanned pregnancy, temporary amnesia, and some sort of hilarious miscommunication. Once I get all those kinks worked out, if someone could pass this on to the fine folks at Lifetime, I’ll give you 5%.

***IMPORTANT!*** Make sure you "Like" Pharon Square on Facebook to take part in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!!

CONcast

Boy howdy, it’s an exciting Monday indeed! Besides the obviousness of the awesome Monday Night Football game on tonight between the Jets and the Moss-infused Vikings (you’ll pay for the whole seat, but you’ll only need the edge of it!) I’ve also officially sent out my birthday invites on Facebook! I apologize if you didn’t receive it, but trust that all who are interested are invited. On top of all that, I got to write a scathing letter of disappointment to the fine (read: horrible) people at Comcast. I’m pretty good at scathing letters, though I reserve my abilities for those who truly warrant it. In this case, Comcast, you have fallen into the pits of Those Who Truly Warrant It. (It’s an ugly place populated by the likes of the eBay seller who failed me, census takers, Federated Insurance, and whoever is responsible for those horrible Quiznos commercials. Not everyone gets a scary letter, but they all deserve one.)

So here's the sitch. Up until a few months ago, my three roommates and I had been blissfully unaware of our sky-rocketing cable/internet bill. We have long since lost the privileges of the “introduction fees” that sucked us in in the first place. So for years, we just kind of paid it, because we were happy. Then comes the dreaded scrolling messages on all our TVs. We are being told that, in order to maintain the same service, for which we’ve been paying the obscene full price, for over 3 years, we have to buy some converter boxes. And lest we lose over half our channels, we’d better high-tail to the cable place and scoop up the 4 that we need a.s.a.p.

So, that makes us take a look at our bills. We sort of re-remember how much we’ve been paying, and are now hell-bent on remedying the situation, especially because each box costs about $3 extra a month. Not a ton of money, but it’s the PRINCIPLE of it, people. Alas, there is little to be done. Don't you just love a monopoly? So we get the dumb boxes. But then the internet doesn’t work all of a sudden. I get to spend a good 7-10 minutes on hold with their “superior customer service” peeps, then Geo spends another good 30 minutes trying to get the internet back online. Finally: Success.

Or so I thought. We hook up the ridiculous boxes to each of our TVs, call up Comcast (again!) and they push some, like, giant red GO button or something. Our main TV and 2 others appear as though nothing has changed. I guess it worked? (I can't be sure, because it's exactly what we had before.) But it’s a different story for the TVs upstairs. Most importantly, MY TV.

All of a sudden half my channels don’t work and the ones that DO “work” are interrupted every single 40 seconds – yes, I counted – with some screen from Comcast saying “Thanks for your patience while we do something really stupid which won’t affect you at all except for right now, and every 40 seconds after this. You’ll thank us later.” Uh. Whaaaa? I’ll thank you later? No, I’ll thank you very much when you give me back my sanity.

Enter: Scathing Letter. Let’s just say I may or may not have used the phrases “Highway Robbery” and “Egomaniacal Marketing Department with No Knowledge of the Technicalities of Your Product”. After I hit “Send” I felt better. Then I get a message back from them. In short, they say “Welp, sounds like a technical problem (duh). You’ll have to schedule a time for one of our cable guys to come into your home.” No apology, no “Wow, thank you for drawing our attention to this obvious lack of quality”, no nothing. Just another step I need to take to, that’s right, GET THE EXACT SAME THING WE HAD BEFORE.

Well, as of now, I’m stuck with the problem (and a second remote to use my own TV, which totally bites). The good thing about this is that our main TV works just fine, and that’s where the Vikings game will be on. Phew! And our internet is back on track, so I’ll be able to obsessively check how many people are coming to my party. And those really are the most important things, right?

Wednesday Winner

I don’t have the energy to build this up the way it deserves. I just got back from an awesome Book Club, and I’ve got a lot on my mind. So, without further ado, I now present: THE WEDNESDAY WINNER!!



Polygamists! Yay! One man, several wives. Listen, I don’t get it. I really don’t. I just recently accepted the whole idea of one person + one spouse. So why you’d ever want more than one, I don’t know. But polygamy is the “Jon and Kate” of this season. Remember all those shows with parents who had like a zillion kids? Well, now it’s a zillion spouses. It’s everywhere these days. Tina and I have seen approximately a half dozen shows about polygamy this week. And let me tell you: it’s hilarious.

I mean, not only is polygamy illegal, it’s just unfortunate. But for some reason, these people really think it’s the bee’s knees. Some dude decides that he needs tons of wives to fulfill his spiritual destiny. Who am I to judge? Well, when you put it on TV, I get to be a judge. There’s a new TV show called Sister Wives where three women are married to some dude. They love it. One of them basically admitted that she could never just be married to a man. She’d be unhappy. She needs “sister wives”. In most other situations, someone would tell that poor woman to maybe just not marry that guy. It doesn’t seem like a good situation when you marry someone, hoping that at least one other person will come in to take some of the heat off.

But, as I mentioned, Tina and I have learned a lot about polygamy this week. For some reason, these shows are hot like fire. All these women sit around and talk about how they are soooo happy to be the “third wife” or the “sixth wife”. What? They just hang out and wait for their night with their husband. Until then, they just kind of raise their hundreds of kids. It’s the weirdest thing to me.

So, this week, this whole Polygamy thing made for some good conversations in the Pharon Square household. I now have 2 girl roommates and one male roommate. The chicks rule the roost. I can’t, for the life of me, understand why someone would choose that lifestyle. All that estrogen!! It’s so…so…undesirable. But again, the whole polygamy thing is the trend of the season. Polygamy is the new black, apparently. And it’s fascinating. It’s new. It’s funny. It’s not me. Which is why, this Wednesday, I declare polygamists the Wednesday Winner. They make me laugh, and more importantly, they make me happy I’m not them. Congratulations, polygamists! I don’t know how you’ll split this honorable award, but I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do…

Gleek Squad

I. Love. Glee. Does anyone NOT love Glee? Who woulda thought? The former band geek is now a loud, proud Gleek. It’s one of the few TV shows I try and stay home to watch. Why? Well, it’s got everything I love in a TV show. Dancing, singing, costumes, teen pregnancy, and ditzy cheerleaders who date the ditzy jocks. Ah, to be in high school again…

When I was in high school, as I’ve mentioned, I was a bandie. I played the flute. When my lack of practicing and frequently missed classes due to “doctor’s appointments” started to affect my standing in the flute chorale, I focused all my half-hearted energy on being the solo piccolo player. Every note I played was technically a solo. Didn’t really make sense at the time, as I was pretty content blending in to the middle of 15 girls faking my way through runs and trills, but it made me buckle down and not embarrass myself anymore. So, I practiced. I went to rehearsals. I even marched in Marching Band, when it didn’t conflict with soccer or cheerleading. Wow, that makes me sound both very nerdy and very well-rounded simultaneously. Anyway, the point is I started working. And I got by. Such a success story!

I guess I never really thought there was anything wrong with being in band. A lot of my friends were in band. Roughly 80% of the Homecoming Court was made up of bandies. It wasn’t the mark of shame that some would believe. I mean, yeah there were nerds and geeks IN band, but just being in band didn’t make you a nerd. At least, that’s what my mom tells me. But I liked it, dammit. I love music, and I loved being able to make it. And that is why I watch Glee.

I am totally unaware of whether or not my high school had a glee club. I’m 99% sure we didn’t. Even if there was one, I probably wouldn’t have joined. There’s no way they would have performed Britney Spears or Journey songs. They would not have embraced Lady Gaga’s disgusting, albeit totally funny, fashion choices with such…such…vigor. And they dance. It’s everything I never would have done in high school. Well, except for one thing: Rachel, the main character, wears Kate Spade sweaters. THAT I would have done.

See, the show is awesome. But it keeps the kids geeky and unpopular when possible. I like that. Being a geek makes a person much more interesting. I like to think of myself as a geek. And I made it through high school totally unscathed and almost totally free of emotional scarring...even though I wore one of the ugliest band uniforms ever created, and technically lettered in band. Of course I never put the patch on my letter jacket, but oh well. I put it on my college applications, and that’s really what counts.

So, if you haven’t watched it yet, start watching Glee immediately. And if you know of any 12 or 13 year-olds, or are one yourself, go ahead and sign up for something nerdy before it’s too late. Just make sure they don’t end up in like CHESS CLUB. There’s no show on the planet that can give Chess Club any street cred.

I Wanna be a Toys R Us Kid

Can I ask you a dumb question? Where’s the line between growing up and getting old? I’m at a crossroads here, people. On the one hand, the thought of having a child/buying a house/”settling down” is still preeeeeetty terrifying. On the other hand, I’m starting to wonder what’s wrong with ‘kids these days’. One hand has a beer in it; the other hand is curling into finger-wagging position. I’m torn. I don’t know which end is up. I’m scared. Hold me.

Now, I like fun as much as the next guy. But lately, everything is just….louder. And more obnoxious. I caught myself thinking the phrase “infernal racket” at one point today. I get cranky when I’m hungry, and I keep wanting to yell at random strangers “PULL YOUR PANTS UP!” or “GET A JOB, HIPPIE!” Give me a pipe, sweater vest, and floppity toupee and I’m an old man.

However, I’m still kind of attached to MTV, and I’m sticking pretty hard to my devil-may-care attitude about bill paying. I still firmly believe that the only bad Happy Hour is the one not attended. I see no point in being serious in many (most) situations. When I babysit for my nieces, I stuff them full of Twizzlers, suckers, and Fun Dip then head home for a night of doing whatever I want. Currently, I have blue fingernail polish on, and I’ve got some Silly Bands on my nightstand.

Today, I was thinking about this conundrum as I was planning my upcoming weekend. My roommate is having a party at our house (for her 24th b-day), and it will be chock full of other early 20-somethings. And I can’t stop worrying about the glasses that will be broken, the smell of rancid beer on the floors, and the inhumanely loud noise level that will seep out of our windows. So, part of me wants to check out and go hang at a friend’s house and avoid the stress altogether. But the other part of me is like “Uh, there is a PARTY. And it’s at YOUR HOUSE. If you leave, you may as well finish up that AARP application and start carrying butterscotch candy and a Kleenex in the band of your watch.”

So, where’s the line? Is there a line at all? One day will I just wake up, pay all my bills, buy some sensible shoes, and start visiting websites that do NOT focus on Hollywood gossip? Well, that just scares me. But how far away is that from my current state? I mean, I’ve started really listening to wrinkle cream commercials. And I’ve seriously considered galoshes.

Ugh. I don’t know. I’m scared. I can actually see why someone would want to take on all the problems and permanency of home ownership, when you can actually paint the walls without asking permission first. I’m flummoxed by people who didn’t grow up to the words “This week, on a very special Blossom…”. So what happens next? When does the floor drop out from under me and I start wearing a slip and pantyhose? When does dying my hair for a little change turn into covering gray?

That seals it. I’m going to put on my best hoop earrings and American Apparel outfit, Twitter my brains out, and do my very best keg stand this weekend. I will NOT grow up. I will NOT! I might just need a couple naps, though. And I’ve got to make some time to catch up on the vacuuming, and let me just quick pick up the house before we have guests. Oh, and don’t let me forget to take my multi-vitamin. This rain is really taking its toll on my sinuses and joints. But THEN! THEN it’ll be crazy fun! YEAH!

Happy Weekend, everyone!

Wednesday Winner

I’m about to get all spiritual up in this piece. Not, like, for real though. Don’t worry. This week was full of little tiny victories in the universe that is Hollywood. Therefore, I call upon the moons and suns and galaxies and black holes and the Big Dipper to declare that this Wednesday's Winner is:



Karmaaaaa! Yes! Oh man, she must have been working overtime in Hollywood this weekend. And believe you me, it did NOT go unnoticed. All over the place, people were getting pwned in hilarious ways.

Lindsay Lohan. Yes, people. She continually tested the limits of drug enforcement laws, shirked her rehab requirements, offended the judge of her case, blamed everyone else, and Lo(han) and behold? She failed a drug test. Twice. Now she’s supposed to go back to jail for 30 days. Will you ever learn, Lindsay? Well, if Karma has anything to do with it: you will.

Secondly, Paris Hilton was turned away from a whole country. Yup. Japan said what we‘ve all wanted to say to Paris since her first commando trip to the club: Sayonara, Sweetheart. They turned away Paris and her private jet straight up because she has been charged with drug possession here in the States. Her claim? She thought the cocaine in her bag was gum. Yeah, that’s just, that’s just not a good lie, Paris. It’s like me claiming that I thought the cake I just ate was a toothbrush. Silly rabbit. In Hollywood it’s downright humiliating to be turned away from club. But a whole country? Now that’s how Karma rolls.

It’s not all doom and gloom, though. Karma is not just a cold-hearted snake. This week, we got a brand new Glee episode, Penelope Cruz is preggo, and Steven Tyler is still alive. Oh, and also a new judge on some TV talent show. And Jon Stewart is leading our generation in a Rally to Restore Sanity march in October. Love it. See? Lots and lots o’ the good stuff, too. And it’s good stuff for some good people, too. I like that.

So, my hat’s off to you, Karma. You’ve brought a wonderful balance of peace, promise, and punishment to our fair Hollywood. I honor you by crowning you this Wednesday’s Winner. You played a big part in a great week, and I want you to know that I not only noticed, but I appreciate it. I just hope, you know, this comes back around to me somehow. But, like in a good way.

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...

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.

P.T.Oh Yeah!

Here’s the difference between me and Sanna. I came home from Book Club tonight, and she says, “Did you know it’s only 6 hours from here to Iceland?” No, Sanna. No, I did NOT know that. “I’m thinking about going there to do some farming sometime.”

There is a strong possibility that she’ll do this, too. I, on the other hand, would NOT do this. I’m not exactly the “drop-everything-and-go-to-a-foreign-country” kind of girl. I am having a hard enough time deciding on what to do around here for the next two days. That’s right, folks. I’m officially taking my first two days off of the year! The world is my oyster. The possibilities are endless.

Example: Apparently there are all kinds of strange, melodramas on TV during the day. Soap operas, I believe they’re called. I’m thinking of maybe checking those out. I’ve also been curious to see what goes on inside Target during the weekdays. Instead of eating lunch at my desk in front of a computer, I might consider venturing out on the porch for a little picnic. And bring my computer. You know, get some stuff done.

Geo threw around a lot of ideas like “kayaking” and something called “going for a walk around the lakes”, so I may have to indulge him and participate in those things. But I’m mostly just looking forward to the sleep. That, however, brings more stress. Do I sleep in and enjoy it? Or do I wake up early and seize the day? Blurg, this is already harder than I thought.

Come to think of it, I have no business taking days off if I don’t even know what to do with them. I think I might actually be nervous. It is entirely possible that I could completely waste these days. What if I sleep until noon, watch TV until 5, and then have nothing to show for a whole two days spent away from work? I mean, yes, that does sound like a pretty ideal day for me. But having to tell everyone that THAT’S what my days off consisted of will only invite disparaging remarks like “Oh, but it was so nice out!” or “Can’t you just sleep during the weekend?” But these people would be, what I like to call, jerks.

But, because I’m such a people-pleaser, I suppose I’ll have to get out and enjoy the so-called beautiful weather. I’ll force myself to spend the hours upon hours of free time I have meandering around Uptown and popping in and out of shops, without worrying that they might be closing in the next 20 minutes. If I must, I must.

Or, hey, I might just jet off to Iceland. Word is, it’s only a 6-hour flight.

Forgive me...

There are a few things you must know about me. I consider myself a pretty decent judge of music. I was in band and played piano until I was 18, and I go through phases of obsessively listening to every type of music from NWA to Prince to Reba McIntyre to Bob Dylan to Ke$ha. I’d also consider myself a pretty decent judge of literature. I majored in English in college, worked at a magazine for a few years and now work at a publishing company. Lastly, I’m obsessed with all that Kate Spade has ever made and everything she will ever put her name on. So, with all that explained, I have some confessions I’d like to make.

I love Miley Cyrus, Cosmo Magazine, and $10 bags from Heartbreaker stores.

Let me first explain Miley. I nannied for my niece Annabelle when she was 3 years old. I got positively sick of hearing Sesame Street or Dora the Explorer all the time. The happy medium we discovered was Mylie’s show Hannah Montana. She loved the music and colorful clothes, I loved that it wasn’t on PBS. But sweet nibblets! I got majorly sucked in. She’s like the new version of Clarissa Explains it All. So, when her songs started playing on the Top 40 radio station, I couldn’t make myself turn them off. She’s 17, not a “strong” performer yet, probably too provocative, maybe a little irresponsible, but what do I care? She’s not my daughter. So, I download her songs and crank them up. I have no apologies. Plus, I really doubt there’s anyone in the country who doesn’t know the words to Party in the U.S.A.

Second, Cosmo. I’ve read this magazine since I was 15 and stealing them from my older sisters. Cosmo is easy-reading full of girlie need-to-know stuff. Don’t know how to do a smokey eye? Here’s how: in 3 steps. Wondering what goes on in a guys brain on the first date? They’ve already polled 1,000 men. But my favorite part is always the quizzes. They could not be easier to ace. There’s always one crazy choice, one boring choice, and the perfect medium. This month, there’s a “What Kind of Hot Are You?” quiz. The results are: Statement-Making Hot, Down-to-Earth Hot, Bombshell Hot, and Girlie Hot. No matter what I choose, the result is: I’m Hot. It’s like a mug of hot chocolate for my self-esteem.

Finally, cheap bags. The only bag I carry right now is a Kate Spade bag with black and white logos on the outside, and purple silk on the inside. My boyfriend gave it to me for my birthday, and I adore this bag. But unfortunately, I do not enjoy the lifestyle that allows me to purchase Kate Spade items every day. I have Kate Spade shoes, jewelry, bags, wallets, stationary, glassware…most all of which have been gifts. So, when I’m really itching for a new bag, I feel like I’m cheating on Kate by buying a different, cheaper designer’s. Instead, I walk on down to Heartbreaker and by some no-name cheap pleather bag in a crazy color that I‘ll use like 5 times. It costs me all of $10, and I don’t suffer the guilt of investing in something non-Kate. When I’m finally at a point in life where I can choose quality over quantity, I would suggest you invest in Kate Spade stock.

Whew! That felt good to get that off my chest. Now I can get back to BBC and studying Pavarotti.