The Crush

Writer's Block, guys. Major, major writer's block. I've started and erased like 3 blogs. The first one was about hating Chris "Rock 'em Sock 'em" Brown. Yeah, like THAT'S news. Then came a blog about whether or not shampoo works like they say it does. I came to my own conclusion that it HAS to otherwise I've wasted a lot of money on "thickening" "smoothing" and "volumizing" nonsense. Still, not exactly page-turning stuff. Finally, the third one started (and quickly ended) with one line: "Can someone please explain the allure of bananas to me?"

I'm off tonight. I'm distracted by all kinds of things, and can't seem to pull together a few intriguing - or even mildly amusing - sentences. What can I say? I'm even watching Dancing with the Stars for the first time EVER trying to get inspired. But besides discovering a newfound girl-crush on Kirstie Alley (she's FUNNY you guys! Seriously! And she can actually do a decent quick-step for a bigger girl which is just icing on the cake she's not allowed to eat anymore), it's been wholly UNinspiring. Background noise.

Sounds like somebody's got a case of the Mondays. I've even decided to tune in to a new This American Life episode on Current TV. I'm obsessed with This American Life. I've listened to pretty much every podcast online. Never heard of it? Well, I urge you to check it out at thisamericanlife.org. Anyways, it's ALWAYS inspiring. Each episode could set me off writing for hours. And now that it's on TV? I was tickled. But for some reason, even Ira Glass leaves me less-than-enthused, which is almost disturbing because I have this really odd crush on him too. Okay, so he can't say his "L's" but he's so interesting and dapper and likable and intelligent and kind. Anyway, I listen to him every week on T.A.L. and when he laughs really hard at something, I'm all "Aw man, I wish I could make Ira laugh like that!" Is that weird? I don't care. He is MY Anderson Cooper (admit it - you like Anderson Cooper! Everyone has a little teeny crush on that silver fox).

Yeah, so I've got nothin'. I'm too excited to meet my nephew tomorrow (Prinna didn't go in to labor, but she's going to be induced in the morning) to think about much else. I've already got a crush on a little baby I've never even met yet. Weird? Probably. Whatevs.

Uh, riiiiiiight. So basically, we've all learned tonight that I have a crushes on Kirstie Alley, Ira Glass, and an unborn baby. All totally normal things. Ugh. Writer's block really makes me admit to things I'd rather not say outloud. Sorry. I'm weird and I'm missing a filter somewhere. (As if to prove my point, I just asked Prinna to get on Skype because she's pretty sure she's having contractions and I want to see it. Seriously? Ugh...I'm awkward.)

The Ol' Switcheroo

Another Sunday, another day spent recovering from the weekend. Mercifully, all my roommates were gone on Friday night, leaving me to my own devices. I did everyone a big favor by attempting to pass all "hard" songs on Dance Central. On Saturday, I shopped 'til I dropped (finding adorable Polo rain boots for like 80% off the original $120 price tag) and then prettied up and went to Lana's St. Patrick's Day party. Irish Car Bomb cupcakes? Yes please! I had a great time meeting new people and drinking my weight in Finnegan's and whiskey. After a quick recovery brunch date with Kim this morning, I found myself camped out on my couch watching movies. (And wearing my rain boots. Seriously, they are so adorable.) Between the head throbs and overall achy body, I managed to watch two movies today. Job well done, I say.

In an effort to share my film savvy with you, I've decided give you a full movie synopsis and analysis of the critically underrated and ignored film, The Switch starring the timeless Jennifer Aniston and totally lovable Jason Bateman. Why didn't this movie get better reviews? Seriously, it's totally watchable and very entertaining. Without further ado, I give you: The Switch.

Scene opens to a homeless man with Tourette's syndrome yelling at people on a NYC street "Seven Years Ago". Jason Bateman - a.k.a. Wally - passes by him and take great offense to the homeless man's repetitive comment that he's a "beady-eyed man boy". Sad. Poor Jason Bateman and his beady eyes. But he meets up with Jennifer Aniston - a.k.a. Kassie - for a friendly lunch or something. We learn that Aniston is a self-sufficient, normal human being, and Bateman is a hypochondriac who doesn't like to take chances and doesn't want to be a real adult. They've been besties for lots of years. Now, if When Harry Met Sally taught us anything, it's that men and women cannot have a platonic friendship. So, duh, we know immediately Wally and Kassie won't be "friends" at the end of this particular flick.

Then Aniston drops a big bomb on Bateman. She's a strong, independent woman, and her baby clock is a-tickin'. She's going sperm shopping. After telling Bateman he's too "neurotic" to procreate, Aniston begins her search for the perfect, uh, charitable giver. Because it's a rom-com, Kassie has the wacky best friend (Juliette Lewis) and a weird list of stipulations for her upcoming donor. Lewis throws Aniston a very weird party to celebrate the impregnation of her bff.

Here's where the movie lost me a bit. Wally suddenly feels jealous about this whole situation. Because Kassie is weird, she invites the donor to her "I'm Getting Pregnant" party where he's going to make his, uh, contribution. Yeah, like, RIGHT AT THE PARTY. Anyway, Wally meets the guy who is allegedly "handsome" (though I didn't get it), and is all confused about his wacky feelings toward his little bestie's decision to use this guy's DNA to make a kidlet. He gets super drunk at the party, and stumbles into the wrong bathroom. There, in a little cup is the boy part of the upcoming baby omelet. Bateman, not knowing what to do with his crazy mushy feelings, and is suddenly the MOST impulsive person ever, switches his OWN secret recipe with the poor donor dudes. Get it? The Switch?!

Whoops, Bateman is soooooo totally hungover the next day. He doesn't remember anything because he just can't hold his liquor. So life continues as normal. Aniston gets pregnant, and moves back to Minnesota (w00t!) to be with her family. Their friendship is basically over because technology apparently sucks 7 years ago and they don't stay in touch. Tear.

Okay, back to present day. Hey, guess what! Kassie's coming back to NYC! Bateman is cautiously stoked. He gets all gussied up and goes to meet Kassie and her son - the stupidly named Sebastian - for lunch. This kid, I swear, is hysterical. He's adorable. He's articulate. He's so sad, though, that he doesn't really know his dad. Then, shocker! We find out he's all neurotic and a hypochondriac, just like another certain adorable man-child in the film. Odd.

Anyway, Sebastian decides he really connects with Uncle Wally, even though he hates every other person in the world. Despite his original aversion to rugrats, Wally finds himself really drawn to Sebastian too. BUT WHY!? Okay, so then the other weird part happens. Kassie reconnects with the man who she thinks holds the other half of Sebastian's DNA. That's right. She starts dating the donor dude. Wally is upset at this, because, hey! He loves Kassie now and he's just realized it, even though we've known that for like the entirety of the movie.

Meanwhile, Wally has some random epiphany which results in his remembering what he did on that one night seven years ago. Then comes a lot of "Hey, wait a minute. I can't...this means...that couldn't be...but...whaaaaaaaaaaaa?" Cut back to all the shenanigans of the cute kid. He's all adorable and inquisitive and just a mini little Bateman. Awww...then Sebastian gets lice, and Aniston is out of town with her skanky new boyfriend, so Bateman comes to the rescue. Despite his hypochondria, he successfully delouces his kid and they make pancakes. Double awww...

Then the climax. Donor guy is going to propose to Kassie, even though it's clear that her kid hates him (despite everyone thinking he's the real dad) and they've only been dating for like 5 months. So at this big party, Donor Guy is all ready to propose, but Wally can't contain himself anymore. He totally breaks in on the dudes speech, and tells Kassie that Sebastian is really his. Oh no! Party foul! Kassie hauls off and slaps Wally, essentially ruining everyone's fun at the party.

After an indeterminate amount of days/weeks of not speaking to each other, Kassie shows up at Wally's job. She's still pretty ticked off. And there's a whole speech about Wally only being able to see Sebastian on HER terms. Sad...poor Wally. He loves that little guy. But turns out? "Her terms" are that he's ALWAYS around because - Spoiler Alert! - Kassie loves Wally! I actually think she just falls in love with whomever she thinks is the father of her fast-talkin' kid, but whatevs. Then the movie closes with a montage of all the happy shiny pictures of the new happy shiny family. Yay!

See? It's not all that bad! It's got some little twists and turns, and more importantly, Jason Bateman rules. And Jennifer Aniston is just lovely. So there ya go. The Switch. I give it an enthusiastic 2 thumbs up (that's out of 4 thumbs).

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.

Security System

Oh Pharon. Pharon, Pharon, Pharon. I’m quite disappointed in you tonight. In lieu of doing the responsible thing of tuning in to watch the State of the Union address, you eagerly turned on the Family Channel to watch the much-anticipated movie, Mean Girls 2. And shortly after that, I saw you drop a chunk of $9 cheese on the floor, pick off the hair, and continue eating it. For shame, young lady. For Shame.

Instead of eating rug cheese and watching the only movie on the planet that would be better WITH Lindsay Lohan in it, I SHOULD be at Liz’s house, chatting about life and drinking wine. I made a decision though to stay in and paint my nails tonight (much to Geo’s appreciation) and try to just chillax. Do people still say “chillax“? Probs not. Oh well, I’m retro now. I’ve been all anxious for the past week. Like, not just stressed, but crazy-in-the-head anxious. I don’t know where it came from, but I just haven’t been able to shake it. Tonight, though, I’ve focused solely on myself and trying to get myself to calm down already. Hence the relationship I have forged tonight with hairy cheese and a bad movie. Not a stressor in the bunch.

You know when you’re feeling crappy, and like there’s only one thing that makes you feel better? For some it’s tea, or yoga, or a stiff cocktail. In my case, it’s my childhood blanket. It used to be vivid pinks and polka dots with Strawberry Shortcake smack dab in the middle. These days it's brownish with no discernible design of any kind, it's ripped up, torn, tied back together in some places, and could function better as a headband than an actual blanket. But it calms me down and makes me feel like I’m 5 years old again. The major problemo with that is that I actually still sleep with my blanket every night. Sexy, right? Whatevs. I scrunch it between my fingers, which lets me fidget in concentrated doses. And I also like to smell it. Not like “sniff” it, but bury my nose in it and smell it reeeeeeal good. In high school, my dad walked past my bedroom and saw me inhaling my blanket and scrunching it between my fingers, and he just like sighed and said “You look like a mental patient.”

So I tried to tone down my reliance on my blanket in college. But when I lived with Kim, she discovered my (very) dirty secret. She picked up the filthy, flimsy fabric between her thumb and pointer fingertip and sneered “What IS this?” I snatched it away from her and snarled “It’s my BLANKET. GOD!” Then I scurried off into the corner of my bed to hide away my Precious. Yes, just like that troll doll guy in Lord of the Rings. After that, Kim would laugh and laugh and laugh as I tore our apartment apart looking for my blanket that she had maliciously hidden from me. I’d find it eventually, and then take it and try and shove it in Kim’s mouth to punish her.

These days, it’s Geo I have to worry about tearing me apart from my security blanket. He’s seen it. In fact, I think KIM was the one to introduce them. He freaked out like it was a blanket made out of marriage proposals and snakes. “Oh God, that’s disgusting! You SLEEP with this?” My initial rage at his, his, nerve to insult me like that subsided quickly into shame and embarrassment. He noticed my quick descent into humiliation and said, “Well, no. I mean, like, it’s, uh, cute, um that you still sleep with your, ah, blankey”. I slowly perked up and pulled it out from the pillow I’d hidden it under. I kept pulling and pulling and pulling, and the blanket kept coming and coming and coming. I sniffled and smiled a little, and looked up at Geo and said “Heh heh…look how LONG it is!” Geo doubled over laughing and repeating like a parrot, “Look how LONG it is…look how LONG it is!” I laughed and decided not to shove the blanket into his mouth to punish HIM. Yet.

For now, my blanket is safe. Well, not “safe” in the healthy way - I can’t wash it or it will disintegrate - but “safe” in the I-Know-No-One-Will-Steal-And-Hide-It way. Although, Geo got me this super soft teddy bear, hoping it would ween me off my blanket. What he didn‘t see coming was that the blanket and bear go perfectly together. So now I’ve got a team backing me up when I feel like shizzah.

Which is definitely going to be useful tonight. I’ve already felt like a mental patient lately, so why not go all out and just compulsively sniff and fidget with my blanket while I rock back and forth relax? Oh man, I hope my dad doesn’t read that…

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.

Hollywood Walk of Lame

I’m such a hypocrite. Seriously. Not long ago I blogged about how cliché it is to sit and write at a coffee shop. And yet, I’m here at my neighborhood Caribou Coffee tap-tapping away on my computer, much to the annoyance of the socializers sitting next to me. I couldn’t help it. Every time I write at home, I end up hating what I write. So, I had to get out of there tonight. I’ve become the very thing I mock.

Okay, well, first thing’s first. It’s my friend Kelly’s birthday today! HBD, Kelly! AND, it’s my MOM’s birthday TOMORROW! w0000000t! In lieu of a birthday gift this year, I’m giving you guys a shout out on my blog! That, my friends, is worthless priceless.

Now that that’s taken care of, let’s move on to the big issue here today: You guys? Hollywood is totally lame these days. I’m really very disappointed in all my celebs. And I think the lack of action is contributing to my malaise as of late. Remember when Lindsay Lohan was like all nutso? Well, she moved in next door to her ex-girlfriend after getting out of rehab, and all that happened was that they had a “friendly lunch”. LAME. Miss Britney’s in the news again, but it’s because her new song is TOTALLY listenable and catchy, which is, you know, nice. I guess. All the people who are pregnant right now are like all settled down with some totally non-threatening dude who they’ve been dating for longer than 2 weeks. And all the breakups? Amicable. Oh yeah, and SNOOKIE wrote a BOOK(IE). I guess it’s fine, because I guess that means she can read, but I like my Snookie like I like my coffee. Way too dark and full of booze.

Apparently Charlie Sheen is doing something sort of crazy these days, but I don’t know what it is because I just don’t care about him. I can’t believe his stupid show is even on the air, by the way. Two and a Half Men? Are you kidding? Dumbest. Show. Ever. UGH! Look at me, people! Look what this Scandal Dry Spell is doing to me! I’m taking all my frustration out on poor Charlie Sheen, who I really liked in his tiny roll as a juvenile delinquent being held at jail in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I’m bullying him because his wacky drug-fueled antics just aren’t doin’ it for me these days. He’s on the verge of irrelevancy anyway, so it seems too EASY to rag on him. Sorry, Charlie.

What happened to all the adulterers of 2010? Where are the mental breakdowns resulting in baldness, jail, or worse? I saw a picture of AMY WINEHOUSE this week and I was so relieved. If anyone is dependably insane, it‘s her. But she’s actually performing, at an actual concert and she actually showed up. Plus, she’s gained a bit of weight back and looks healthier. And she was smiling! What is going on, people?! Are you trying to ruin my winter, Hollywood?

This week on TMZ, there were more stories about Michael Jackson’s former doctor than anything else. Oh, and no-name athletes who keep doing stupid crap. I don’t know them, I don’t care about them. Please stop writing about them, TMZ, and just start making stuff up again. I want that. I need that.

Where’s the HEART man? Where’s the fire and the passion for crazy hijinks in Hollywood? Whatever happened to “All Press is Good Press”? That’s like the golden standard out there! Sad, maybe all the stars and starlettes are growing up. Like, instead of going out on cocaine benders and having fights with trees, they’re staying in with tea and updating their contacts list. If ANYthing makes me feel old these days, it’s the boredom I get from listening to the famous people in my generation do nothing. Well, nothing except, like, working. And that’s just not interesting at all.

I need a fat, juicy story. I want Rihanna to start dating Miley Cyrus. I want LeBron James to admit to taking steroids, or Natalie Portman to give birth to 16 babies. Or, better yet, how about Brad and Angelina break up because she finally admits she’s an evil demon, and has only come to Earth to start her own evil army by adopting a zillion kids, but then eats all her babies?! Can someone find out if that’s going to happen!?

Again, I feel like such a hypocrite. I used to think “God, why do tabloids write about all this negative crap?” Well, I’ve found my answer. I NEED that negative crap. I do. When I get home from work and I’m exhausted and my house is messy and I have to pay bills and I can’t fit into my jeans anymore and my phone is broken, nothing perks me up like hearing that people have way bigger problems than me. Especially people who are skinnier than me, with way more money, too. Call me immature, call me mean-spirited, I don’t care. I’m a product of my generation. I’ve been spoiled my whole life with juicy Hollywood gossip - Remember Christian Slater and Madonna and OJ Simpson? HELLO!? Now, it’s like politicians are stealing the gossip limelight, and that is really dumb. I want my politicians to make the world better, not have reality shows.

So, whaddya say, Hollywood? Let’s get back to work. Go ahead and get back on those drugs! Get arrested for something heinous, and take a wicked bad mug shot! Get married and divorced…this weekend! You can do it! I need something big to happen. It’s going to take a Tiger Woodscapade-sized thing to get this group of “stars” back in my heart. Outside of that, I’m just going to stop caring about them and move on to hoping Justin Bieber comes out of the closet…

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Dear Santa: Here's Your Naughty List

I’m in a perpetual state of outrage today. I want to run to my window, rip off the plastic, and scream “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” at the top of my lungs. What is going ON with people right now? Okay, so first, last night I read that an extremely talented Iowa Hawkeye football player, Derrell Johnson-Koulianos, was arrested for a number of drug violations. One of them was that he was LIVING IN A DRUG HOUSE. What a total moron…what a disappointment. Do people not learn ANYthing from other athletes who get arrested for stuff like that? And Brett Favre - HELLO!? Are you kidding me with the picture texts? Get it together, dudes.

Secondly, today I learned that the total JOKE that is the Justice System has failed again. Without getting into too many details, I’ll say this. The case Federated Insurance brought against my brother-in-law over 2 years ago has had a trial set for January on the books for over 6 months. Now that we’re getting close to FINALLY tasting justice, there appears to be a “scheduling error” and it’s been postponed. I think they mean “We still don’t have a shred of evidence that anything illegal has taken place.” In my opinion, I think they’ll be spending the holidays panicking, hiding their mistakes, and coming up with $25 words for “We’re effed”.

But what has really gotten my goad, the proverbial straw breaking my camel’s back, the sharp pain in my fleshy backside is Kanye West. I copied his latest album/musical self-gropefest last night from Geo’s iTunes (thanks, Home Sharing!) So luckily, I didn’t have to pay a cent for it. I listened to it today, and discovered a secret. The best parts of his songs are the parts featuring other performers. The collaborations. The non-Kanye self-aggrandizing parts. And as I skipped through his pukey auto-tuned sections, it hit me. Kanye West is truly a celebrity I would like to fall off the face of the planet.

At one time, I followed him on Twitter because I thought it’d be a nice break in the day to read some total bonkers, nutjob rambles. I was wrong. Instead, my Twitter feed would be full of his nonsensical hate-fueled threats to Matt Lauer, Taylor Swift, and other completely innocuous people. Get a different hobby, man. So, I unfollowed him (he’s probably still reeling). I just can’t take it anymore. The sad thing is that musically, he’s crazy-talented. But I just realized I don’t care anymore.

Chances are, a lot of “geniuses” were insane in the membrane a la Mr. West. Van Gogh should have been medicated before his chop-off-the-ol’-ear trick, and I’ve seen Amadeus enough times to know that Mozart was one note away from the loony bin. But these guys let their work speak for them. They didn’t have platforms like Twitter from which to spew their particular brands of madness. So, I wish Kanye would take a cue from those dudes, and fall into obscurity. He’s lost touch with reality, which is just cliche. He’s not the first, he’s not going to be the last. But now is the time to go the way of Lauren Hill and live inside his own private la-la-land.

So, between the d-baggery of athletes, the morally-suspect (if not illegal) actions of big companies, and the celebrities who prophesize themselves as if they are the second coming of Crystal Clear Pepsi, I am over it. Something has got to give. There's got to be a tipping point where people stop acting like idiots and start behaving like proper humans. Is that really too much to ask? I really hope not. If it is, I'm totally moving to Sweden like Elin did to get away from Tiger. Sounds like the Promised Land to me...

P.S. There is actually a great song called Runaway by Kanye West that would be PERFECT for this post, but I'm definitely not posting it. Plus, I think he took down all the "unauthorized" videos of his songs. Seriously. D-Bag.

FaFa La La La

I don’t know about you guys, but I might never eat again. I was literally in pain for 3 nights this weekend as a result of shoving food down my throat until I couldn’t breathe. Then, tonight, I capped it all off with eating dessert for dinner. Prinna had a little Christmas party at her house, the first time she’s been able to decorate a house for Christmas in like 3 years, and served chocolate fondue, pumpkin pie cheesecake, pretzels topped with melty Rolos, brownies, and cupcakes. My thighs jiggled just by looking at the table of food. But that’s all over now. Now it’s back to veggies instead of chocolate and water instead of apple cider with rum.

Okay, so my family is VERY tradition-heavy. We do the same things every year for holidays. It’s quite regimented, but I dig it. I love the comfort of knowing what to expect at the holidays, and being sufficiently prepared. One of the Thanksgiving traditions we have in my family is to have all the women participate in a Celebrity Draft. Each of us picks 10 celebrities from a predetermined list in a draft. There’s number-crunching, strategies, and some of us get super in to it. Then, this website www.fafarazzi.com tracks the celebrity blogs and online mags. For every mention a celebrity gets on them, you get a point for him/her. At the end, the winner gets the highly coveted Fafa trophy. So from Thanksgiving night through Christmas, the 12 of us root for people like Paris Hilton to marry Kanye West in a weekend drunken stupor, and then have a baby.

Needless to say, I won last year. By a mile. I mean, I had TIGER WOODS on my team. So, I’ve got a majorly big target on my back. But this year, my team blows. My best “player” is Lindsay Lohan, and unfortunately for me, I really think she’s legitimately trying to not do drugs anymore. Big time bummer for me. I’m going to go ahead and need Jon Hamm and Blake Lively to come out with a sex tape…both are on my team and STRUGGLING. Zero points a piece. It’s like they don’t even care that I drafted them…geez. I've GOT to win that trophy, you guys. I really just have to. My pride is on the line.

Another tradition is for my insane mother and sisters to wake up at 3 a.m. on Friday morning and hit up the Black Friday sales. I’ve never gone with them. It’s like MY tradition to NOT participate. They wake up, shop for 12 hours wearing matching shirts, and then come home with bags and bags of crap stuff they found for 80% off with Doorbuster Sales. Instead of shopping with them, I babysit their kids. I LOVE babysitting the four kids. It’s so much more fun than plowing through a group of 40 year-old women who are over caffeinated and under-rested to get to the half-priced snow globes. Well, to each her own, I guess.

Well, now it’s on to Christmas traditions. I’ve pulled out my tiny shoe box of Christmas decorations and will now start the traditional Nagging of the Geo to put up the Christmas lights. And then he and I will go and pick out an obnoxiously enormous Christmas tree, bring it home, and decorate it while listening to some Mariah Carey Christmas music. And drinking apple cider with rum. And probably eating chocolate. (Yeah, turns out I can’t NOT eat/drink that stuff you guys…you just don’t mess with tradition.)

Bring it on, Christmas. I’m totally ready for the next round of traditions (I've already done the annual Changing of the Ringtone to Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas Is You). Now if only Robert Pattinson has a Christmas tradition of, say, getting major plastic surgery or a sex change, I’ll be set to win the Fafa trophy again. T’is the season!

Happy Stanksgiving!

Oh Thanksgiving…a day to give thanks by shoving your face with turkey and gravy and potatoes and pie then taking a nice long nap on the floor. Just like the pilgrims did. I’m sure we’ve all got lots of things to be thankful for. Family, friends, and the love we share. But I feel kind of bad, you guys. I mean, lots of things get overlooked on this fine, festive holiday. Pilgrims and Native Americans didn’t know what they were missing when they sat around in a cornfield and gave thanks for buffalo or polio blankets or whatever. So, here’s just a quick list of things I’m thankful for that got overlooked at the First Thanksgiving.

* TMZ for all the news I need to know
* Automatic car starters in Minnesota winters
* Texting
* My new subscription to Vogue that JUST came in the mail (Eeeee!!!)
* Shoes. Lovely, lovely shoes.
* The ability to Pay at the Pump
* People with British accents
* Spanx
* Kate Spade
* Google desktop, so I can see Facebook, Twitter, Email, People magazine, the weather, and my horoscope all on one page
* Trader Joe’s and their wonderfully drinkable 3-buck Chuck wine
* My Crest Spinbrush toothbrush, ‘cause sometimes I don’t have the energy to do that whole “up-and-down” thing
* Blogs

Yeah, those are all great things that stupid Pilgrims never knew anything about. Okay, so they had turkey and new friends who they would eventually trick and steal from, but I’ll never know how they did it without checking in with Foursquare or eviting people to the shindig.

Alright, if we could bring down the house lights and get a little serious up in this piece for a second, I just wanted to say that there’s some real stuff I’m thankful for.

* My sister Prinna. She literally INSISTED that I start blogging all those many moons ago. She showed me how to design my page, helped me come up with the name, and designed the header. All for little ol’ me. She’s like the bombest person ever, and I’m very thankful for her.
* My mom who reads every blog SECONDS after I post one, and then writes me little emails when she really likes a particular entry. She is the ideal fan, and I love her.
* My dedicated, and sometimes wonderfully vocal, group of readers. Especially: My grandmaman, Padrin, Aunt Sarah, Cindi, Geo, all the boys who admit to reading a girlie blog (and liking it!), Liz, Ally, Madeline, and Kim for actually SHARING the blog on Facebook which spreads the blog like it’s the flu. You all rule.

Yes. I love writing this blog. I’m very THANKFUL to have it and that you guys read it. I’m thankful that my parents put me through college to write, only to end up reading about how much I love my couch and my thoughts on Lindsay Lohan. Classic.

Enough with the wishy-washy. I’m going back to my vodka tonic and deciding which sweatpants go best with cranberry stains. Have a fabulous Thanksgiving, everyone!

Wednesday....????

The results of last week’s Wednesday Winner poll are in!! And the response has been...underwhelming. I’m no clearer about the fate of my weekly awards than I was last week. Some people said “Keep it.” Some said “Keep it, but only focus on famous people.” Some said “Eh, whatever.” Still others said “Seriously, Pharon! I don’t care! Now get out of my house.”

So...Whatever. I’m going to still do them. I like giving away fictitious awards and keeping people on their toes. And I like alliteration. A lot. So, it'll just be Wednesday Whatever-I-Want type of thing. Because at the end of the day, does anyone really care? Probs not. And it keeps me on a schedule, and I dig a good schedule, people.

With all that said, here it is Wednesday and I have no Winner with which to dazzle you. It’s been a pretty regular week, and reflecting back on the whole week, I’ve decided that I’m sort of like “Eh, whatever” about most of it.

I think I need a Wednesday Eh, Whatever. You know, okay, so Prince William and Kate Middleton are engaged. Sorry, but Eh, Whatever. I guess he’s some sort of royalty? Is that right? Well, I like my Kings and Queens a little more, um, LOCAL. I DO think it’s creepy that he proposed with his mother’s engagement ring, which she wore everyday until THEY DIVORCED. Call me crazy, but I’d be a little skeezed out. Maybe he should have given her one of Di’s PERSONAL rings or something. Not a physical symbol of failed marriage.

Still, I’m just like “Meh” about the whole thing. Same goes for Eva Longoria and the fact that she filed for divorce today. Her husband cheated on her. Big shocker…what male celebrity DOESN’T cheat these days? I have to give him props for at least being quite gutsy about it. He is some sort of professional basketball player, I’m told. And he cheated with a TEAMMATES WIFE, but then I found out that the teammate and his wife were in the midst of a divorce of their own anyway. So I went back to Eh, whatever…

To top it off, it’s the time of year where it’s not QUITE the holiday season, but not quite NOT the holiday season. You following me? In downtown Minneapolis, the hanging baskets of flowers were removed from the street lights this week. As if illustrating my point, the city has set the flower replacements - big, light up snowflakes - right NEXT to the street lights. They haven’t quite gotten around to HANGING THEM yet. They’re like “Eh. Whatever. We’ve got about 7 months of winter to do it…” It’s like they’re reading my mind.

So in lieu of a Winner this week, I guess I’m going with a Whatever. Who knows what next week will bring? Wednesday Wimp? Wino? Wednesday Whil Wheaton (that’s for all you Family Guy fans out there) Wednesday Whodunnit? Now that’d be awesome…maybe next week, I’ll have like a mystery I need you guys to solve. I don’t know. Whatever.

Sioux Falls: The Hollywood of South Dakota

Finally! The first snowfall in Minnesota, and I MISSED IT! I missed the whole thing because I was lounging around in South Dakota at Geo’s family cabin. Perek, Geo, Mitch, Chad, Chad’s girlfriend Angie, and I trekked into the untamed wilderness for fun times and drinking. It was definitely a great break from the stress and monotony of the Cities. We played Trivial Pursuit and Sega and ate nothing but junk food. I got a healthy dose of ribbing from the guys, and Angie and I helped them execute a wine tasting challenge for their pod cast, Good Guys to Know. I haven’t laughed that hard in too long. My stomach still hurts.

So, Saturday morning, Geo gets a call from his dad. We were all sitting around this cheesy little malt shop diner place for breakfast, and Geo informed us that his dad has a guy who works for him that has a limo. And said man would be willing to drive us around that night if we felt like going into Sioux Falls for a night on the town. After some half-hearted debating, we decided that this was too good of a chance to pass up. At 8:30, our driver Darryl rolled up to the cabin in the “limo”. We walked out with a cooler of adult beverages and saw this black, like long station wagon. I was getting stoked to stick my head through a sunroof in the sub-zero chill, but there was no sun roof. It had six doors and three rows of seats. The back two rows all faced forward, so it wasn’t quite the Limo I am accustomed to (if you call riding in a limo for high school prom and for my sister’s wedding being “accustomed” to limos).

While we were making our way the 45 minutes to Sioux Falls in the limo, we decided to take advantage of the whole limo thing. I had sunglasses in my purse, and a hooded sweatshirt on. So, we decided that I was going to be famous, and the guys and Angie would be my entourage. The limo pulled up to a bar, and we all got out. I had my hood up and sunglasses on, Angie shielded me from the people standing outside the bar. I held my face down and let Angie pull me in to the bar.


People fell for it. It was perfect. When I was walking back from the bathroom, some guy shoved his camera phone in my face and snapped a picture. The girl behind him squealed “Ohmygod, she’s still trying to hide!” I don’t know who they THOUGHT I was, but it was awesome. We pulled the stunt a couple more times as we progressed to more bars. At one bar, I went to close out a tab, and the bartender asked me to sign my “receipt”. After I did it, he was like “Oh, wait. Here’s the actual receipt” and then pocketed the fake receipt. My autograph! Hahaha.

So throughout the night, I kind of got a little TOO into my concocted alter ego. I was suddenly very aware of my facial expressions, in case someone snapped a picture that would show up somewhere with the headline, “Stars: They’re Just Like Us! They pick their nose and have mascara smeared on their cheek!” I felt like everyone was looking at me, I didn’t want to go the bathrooms alone, and I just sort of felt weird. Poor Britney Spears. I now understand her pain and aversion to normal social venues. Finally, we gave up the gag, and I put my sunglasses back in my purse and shook my booty on the dance floor without a care in the world.

It was definitely fun being a “famous” person for a couple minutes. On the car ride home, I reflected on how gullible people are. Geo made a good point, though. He said “I think people just like the idea that someone famous would come into their world and share the same experiences for even one night.” It was a pretty smart statement. The limo, the entourage, the feeling of being thisclose to someone who may or may not enjoy the perks of Hollywood life seemed to intoxicate people. I just hope that a few people had at least one good story to go home and tell. I should have advertised my blog…you know, bump up the traffic.

Alas, all that fame and fast food has wore me down. I’m definitely going to sleep hard tonight. Tomorrow, it’s back to reality and a job that doesn’t include lunching at Ivy or photo shoots with Annie Leibovitz. Oh well, I think famous people crave the kind of anonymity with which I can lead my life. I better enjoy it while it lasts!

Wednesday Winner

My initial plan for the Wednesday Winner was to profess my love for all famous chicks who are (close to) my age, and talk about how awesome they all are, and how wonderfully similar I am to them. But: Beyonce and Lily Allen got themselves knocked up, or “in the family way” as some creepy old dude put it today. Kim Kardashian’s been divorced, and is now making more money than ever before. Britney’s been married twice, divorced twice, gone to rehab, and had two kids. So, I thought about all this. I thought about other chicks my age who are out there, being parents, or wives, or rich. Then I decided my Wednesday Winner is going to be:



This bottle of wine!! You know why? ‘Cause pregnant chicks can’t drink it, uber-ambitious workaholic chicks wouldn’t DARE touch it on a Wednesday night, and married chicks probably have to go do stuff for/with their husband. Take THAT age-appropriate-lifestyle-livers! I invite you to kick back and have a glass, if you can, of your favorite (or most readily-accessible) wine tonight. You deserve it, I'm sure!

Despite the push and pull of age-norms all around me this week, I keep coming back to the same thought, though. "Okay, so what's the big deal?" Because between the knowledge that my mom had like 3 kids by the time she was my age, and the ginormous lifestyle gaps between me and my 22 year-old roommates, I feel like I'm in No Man's Land. In the wise words of Miss Britney Spears, "I'm not a girl, not yet a woman."

Additionally, I'm starting to think that all these so-called mile markers in life are a total farce to begin with. You know, "go to college when you're 18, start a career at 23, get married by 28, have kids at 31, slit wrists at 35". It seems so archaic, right?! We aren't in the age when the average life expectancy depends on whether or not you get the flu. We have a lot more time than our ancestors had. What's the rush, people?!

So, I drink the wine. The wine represents an appreciation for age...for maturation. Okay, sure, the wine pictured was literally $5 at Trader Joe's and has been aged all of 2 weeks, but the principle stands. You can't rush the process. You just enjoy it when it's ready.

Also, I honor Wine tonight because I can. I was talking to my pregnant sister Prinna today, and I said how badly I wanted a drink after work. And she got jealous. My SISTER got jealous of ME! It's pretty much the only thing I can do that Prinna can't. So WHAT if she's growing a life inside her body? I get to DRINK! w00000t!

Finally, Wine wins this week because at the end of the day, this old(ish) bag o' bones is tired! My feet hurt from my ridiculously painful, but AWESOMELY HOT, shoes, my back hurts from carrying my too-big purse, and I think I'm getting arthritis or carpel tunnel in my hands from tweeting all day. So tonight, I came home and opened a bottle of wine. Geo and another roommate feasted on pizza and mac n' cheese, but I paired my wine with an awesome dinner of salad and vinaigrette, and some pasta lightly tossed with tomatoes, garlic, and olive oil. How sophisticated!

See? This $5 bottle of wine embodies all that I have been this week. Sure it's cheap, but put it in a nice glass and most people can't tell the difference. No one cares what year it was made, or how long it's been maturing, the point is It's Wine. And It's Good. And I am now going to enjoy a couple glasses of my metaphor. Congratulations, WINE! Looooove you! Cheers, y'all!

Breaking News! I'm Awkward!

If you could sit down and interview anyone right now, who would it be? Seriously…straight up anyone. Lots of people would be like “Ghandi” or “Jesus” or “Snookie” or someone similarly prolific. I could never sit across from, say, Barack Obama with like a zillion well-thought out questions, and stay cool the whole time. I once met Arnold Schwarzenegger's stunt double in 1998, and fell totally mute. I’m so NOT cool.

So today, I watched an interview Anderson Cooper did with Eminen, and it was pretty good. If it had been me doing the interviewing, it would have been catastrophic. I’d probably throw up some gang sign or offer him some Vicodin or something. Eminem would get up, rip his mic off, and fire whoever set up the interview. And then get me fired. And get all my friends fired. Sorry, friends. I’ll stay away from the formal interviews for now.

But I just don’t have a really great answer to that very basic question of Who I Would Like to Interview If I Got The Chance. I mean, I guess I’d say someone like Sarah Silverman, because I idolize her, but I know that wouldn’t go very well either. I’d be gushing the whole time. “Sarah! Sarah! Remember in your movie Sarah Silverman: Jesus is Magic when you did that bit about Jewish people driving German cars? Oh man, that was so funny! And, and, and, when, on your TV show when you hallucinated because you drank too much cough syrup! I loved that episode! OH! And that song you sing where you‘re having carnal relations with Matt Damon! Genius!” No where in that total Fan Girl situation would I be able to ask a relevant question, AND stay calm long enough to hear the answer.

Maybe I could start with someone I’m not obsessed with. You know, sit down at a coffee shop with a tape recorder and pad and pen, and say something like:

Pharon Square: Thanks for letting me pay for your coffee, Mr. Nicolas Cage. It’s, uh, pretty okay to meet you, I guess. Your hair is, um, unfortunate. Tell me, what is your acting process? Like, how do you achieve such an incredibly high level of mediocrity?
Nic Cage: Uhhhhh…..whaaaa? Am I on Con-Air?
Pharon Square: No, you’re at Starbucks.

I just wouldn’t be able to find a happy medium between gushing my affection and fighting the urge to cut the other person’s face. In theory, sure, there are some people I’d like to sit down and have a beer with, but I guarantee they wouldn’t want to sit with me. Kate Spade has no interest in how I had the paint store match a paint to the color of a Kate Spade box so I could cover my walls in Kate Spade green. She’d be all, “Oooookay….whoops, I forgot about that jury duty thing I have to leave right now for.” And I guarantee Nelly Furtado would call in the cops when I start signing all her songs back to her…even the ones in Portuguese. I’m just not cool enough to interview the people I like, and I’m too cool for the likes of Heidi and Spencer Pratt.

I guess I’ll have to leave the juicy tell-alls to TMZ and Barbara Walters. All that caring and listening and talking seems like waaaay too much work for me anyhow. Plus, I figure, for every one interview with Ghandi, it’d take like a zillion interviews with the Nicolas Cage’s of the world, and I just don’t need to know the meaning of life that badly.

Wednesday Winner

I think my Amish studies have gotten to me. Turns out, there’s a lot more to being Amish than sneaking out to do drugs, shunning people, and wearing bonnets. There’s a looooooot that is, uh, boring. So, in honor of recent developments, I have done a total 180 for this weeks Wednesday Winner. Without further ado….I declare the Wednesday Winner to be:




Show boaters! Braggarts! Boasters! Show offs! This morning, I learned that my beloved Randy Moss is returning to his NFL roots and comin’ home to me! He’s signed with the Vikings for the rest of season, and I couldn’t be happier. A common misconception of Moss is that he pouts, does exaggerated celebration dances, and acts like a total A-hole most of the time. But guess what, people? I DON’T CARE! I love him! I love his jumping, running, one-handed snags for the touchdown, his faux-mooning of Packers fans! He’s incredibly talented and now he’s back on the VIKINGS, so come Super Bowl time, all you haters will be glad to have him. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any kids who are all “I wanna be juuuuuust like him when I grow up”. But man I just, I love him. I’m so glad to see him back.

Also, in the same show boating line (though not in, like, the "I'm better than everyone" way), I’d like to also honor my favorite Vikings defensive player, Jared Allen, who was in the news this week as well. Jared Allen, who for EIGHT YEARS has done the same awesome celebration dance after getting a sac (he kneels down on the ground, simulates roping a calf, then throws his arms up in the air with world‘s biggest, most genuine smile on his face) has now suddenly been told he cannot do that any longer. He suddenly can’t kneel down, unless he’s praying. Seriously. Jared Allen. The mullet-sporting, culinary-school-graduating (listen to his own hilarious “alma mater” when they introduce the D-line during any game), truck-driving, down-home cowboy has been told he can’t kneel down to pretend to rope a fake calf. Might I remind you all that Michael Vick abused ACTUAL animals and is currently enjoying the best season of his career? Welp, turns out, I have also loved Jared Allen for a long time, and feel like he’s being totally screwed. All because of a little celebration. A LEGENDARY celebration, from a legendary player. For shame, Fun Haters!

So, now my two favorite show boaters are on MY TEAM! God, I can TASTE the controversy! The tongue-clicks of Squares and Nerds. The people who think football should be calmer and quieter. LAME. I love football because the performances on the field can be super-human. These guys can do things NO ONE ELSE can do without suffering major arterial hemorrhaging. So who cares when they want to celebrate? I certainly don’t.

Okay, so, initially I was going to have a third non-Vikings show boater, but no one else deserves this honor like my boys in purple. I’ve been watching the humble, talented Twins who don’t do so much as an air-hump after a homerun. Yes, they are awesome. They are fun guys to look up to. But my beloved Vikings make the competition real. I feel like their celebrations and frustrations are my own. I’m down on that field with them. They’re working, and they’re working for me. I love my athletes to show their emotions. I mean, I know they don’t need to be total jerks and they don’t need to do all kinds of smarmy things, but I’m not greedy. I’m proud of them on the field. I like their creativity and their passion.

So, on that note: Thank you Show Boaters and Field Clowns. You make me passionate about, and inspired by, professional sports. You guys are entertaining and incredibly talented, and I whole-heartedly salute you. I love you guys. I will always love you guys, and I will cheer for you for as long as you want me to. Thanks, dudes. Thanks for everything.

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.

Wednesday Winner

Well, as they say at every awards show, “It’s an honor just to be nominated”. I hope that’s true, because this week was full of people who deserve the title Wednesday Winner. However, there can be only one.

Nominee #1: My Sister-in-Law Nicole.
Reason for Nomination: Until recently, my hair looked like a bale of hay with a rat nesting itself in the back. It was gnarly. After one visit to see Nicole, voila! My hair is shiny and healthy(ish). She cut and colored my hair from the comfort of her own home, while I got to enjoy a glass of great wine from my brothers stash (he is a wine/liquor rep and really knows his stuff). And did I have to hand over $120 for this awesomely wonderful transformation? No, people. Family discount has its perks.
Added Bonus: Nicole also very generously forked over some great product to help keep my hair from descending into its previous state. For no charge.

Nominee #2: Geo
Reason for Nomination: His previously mentioned awesome shout out to my good girlfriending abilities on his pod cast was great. Also, on two of the days I came home from work last week, he had made me incredible dinners. Salad and everything!
Added Bonus: It’s his birthday today! Happy birthday, Geo!

Nominee #3: My long-distance girl friends
Reason for Nomination: After spending the weekend with them, it was made obnoxiously clear how much I really just love them. We crammed into one bathroom to get ready (even though there are three in Kelly’s house, it just makes sense to play human Tetris in front of one mirror). We crammed into one car to get from home to tailgate to bar to home. We crammed two week’s worth of fun into two nights. And yet, none of it felt restricting. It felt, actually, comfortable. Natural.
Added Bonus: Not really a bonus actually, but it may be a loooong time until I get to see them all together again. I might have to strike while the iron is hot.

Nominee #4: The Ladies at the VMAs
Reason for Nomination: From Chelsea Handler’s pretty hilarious hosting job, to Snookie sans-pouf, to Lady Gaga’s meat dress, to Ke$ha and her garbage bag dress, to Rihanna’s awesome performance at the beginning of the show (take THAT, Chris Brown), I really felt the ladies represented. Sure, most of them were representing the lowest-common-denominator, but I like that. I AM that.
Added Bonus: The Taylor Swift vs. Kanye West battle. Each of them sang unreleased songs. But Taylor’s was great. And a big slap in the face to the dude who nearly ruined her VMA moment only a year ago. Kanye’s performance was only ehhhh. Point: ladies.

Okay, drumroll. The winner of this week’s Wednesday Winner Award is...my sister Prinna!



She announced today that she's having another baby! I'm so excited to spoil this newest baby rotten! Congratulations, Prinna and family! You have officially made my week/life! And I mean, I know having a baby is pretty exciting, but on top of all that: You are my Wednesday Winner. It doesn't get better than that!

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...

Wednesday Winner

No one likes a loser. People like winners. (I’m going to make such a great, laid-back parent). With that in mind, I’d like to present the ALL NEW weekly installment of Wednesday Winner. Every Wednesday I’ll tell you who has won my heart for the week, whether it be a celebrity, a friend, a family member. (Technically, Brett Favre should hold the honor this week, what with his heroic return to the Vikings, but I’m saving him for a special week.) And while I am susceptible to bribes by those who would like to be hailed as the winner, I am not a pawn. I am not a puppet (Sarah). To start this off, I’m setting the bar simultaneously high and shallow. I’m starting with a celeb.

This week’s prize (there is no prize, by the way) goes to none other than:



Yup. Jennifer Aniston. She’s beautiful, smart, independent, “beachy”, and she always dresses perfectly. She’s all over the place this week, what with her new movie, The Switch (co-starring JASON BATEMAN who I absolutely love) and she never disappoints. Besides my decade-long obsession with her hair, I also covet the ease with which she carries herself. Girls love her, guys love her, and I’m assuming dogs, cats, birds, and even scorpions like her too. Also, I really love that she is NOT Angelina Jolie. Blech.

One of the reasons Jen Jen (yup, I can call her that) deserves this prestigious honor is because this week she made a comment about a woman’s right to have a child, with or without a man in her life. And when crazy coot Bill O’Reilly turned that statement into some platform for him to jump off and cry that this woman was “ruining society”, she coolly and maturely responded without attacking him or his idiocy. That’s a woman.

Secondly, she has a perfume coming out too. I’ve NEVER bought into the whole Celebrity Scent scene. I wear Banana Republic. But something about the fact that it’s supposedly “beachy” and “feminine” and smells just like you think she would smell makes me want it. Actually, it makes me want to drink it. But I won’t. Probably.

Finally, she made my week because she just seems like a woman who’s got it together. I envy that. She made a hilarious appearance on Chelsea Lately, she is iconic in the September issue of Harper’s Bazaar dressed and made-up like Barbra Streisand, and excepting this week, she typically stays low-key. So, props to you, Jen (yeah, she’s totally a follower of mine…) for being a great public figure and for having Victor Kiriakis from Days of our Lives as your dad.

Congratulations, Jennifer Aniston, for winning me over this week. You’re the best.

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.