Fairly certain this will get you kicked out of any school, even the wizarding ones

So if you read any of the entertainment "blogs", as the kids say, then you've already seen the delightful promo pics from the new London play Equus, starring Daniel Radcliffe, aka Harry Potter (who appears NUDE onstage...yeah, you read that correctly). In case you haven't, I feel like it is my journalistic responsibility to bring them to you. Brace yourself. I'm serious.







You didn't brace yourself like I told you to, did you? And now you've probably fallen to the floor. Serves you right. Really, the nudity should be the focus, and yet I find myself drawn to the look of longing in his eyes. Is it for the horse? For the light source? For any kind of acting ability, ANY AT ALL? Who's to say. All I know is that this is quite possibly the greatest photograph in the history of the world, and I am so thankful that it has come into my life.



Also, Sienna?

Going outside without your pants is not "Bohemian". It's something that 95 year old men do once the dementia has sufficiently rotted their brains (although I don't think any of them would do it whilst wearing their grandmothers' support garments, but different strokes).

Who's Your Danny?

Dear employees of the mini Starbucks inside of the Safeway on 50,
I appreciate how complicated and stressful your job is, I honestly do. One of the reasons I have avoided any kind of job involving a cash register is because it gives me hives just thinking about having to operate those things. Add to the that the fact that you have to take specialized orders and deal with people like the lady in front of me today who ordered a "latte with no foam" without your head exploding and it's pretty evident that your job is harder than most. And I'm also cognizant of the fact that you have no way of knowing that by the time I stop by your store at 9:30, I have already been WORKING for two and a half hours and awake for three and a half. HOWEVER, maybe, if it's not too much to ask, can you please not put the new guy on the morning shift? As he told me while wiping the sweat off his brow and holding back tears, this is only his second day on the job. There are only two of you working there anyway. Thanks so much.




-Jenn




PS- "No whip" is a fancy way of saying "no whipped cream". And "venti" is your largest size of beverage. Don't worry, you'll get it eventually.



On a much brighter note, please please PLEASE tell me that you've been watching "Grease" You're The One That I Want!", the greatest television show ever made. Last night we found out that the show has given the Danny and Sandy hopefuls charming little nicknames, a la Barbie and Ken ("Malibu Barbie", "Astronaut Barbie", "Cheerleader Barbie", "Meth-Head Barbie", etc.). I think I can do better:

Name: Matt
NBC Calls Him: "Second Chance Danny", because he got voted off and then got to come back on the show (God forbid he miss out on this phenomenon)
I Call Him: "Untalented Danny". Dude can't sing, dance, act, or interact with humans. I have a crush on him.

Name: Max

NBC Calls Him: "Slacker Danny". He's got long hair, so clearly he will amount to nothing in life.

I Call Him: "Keanu Danny". He is the best, but will never win because his nose is huge and also, he's a slacker.

Name: Chad

NBC Calls Him: "Ambitious Danny". Yeah, I don't know either.

I Call Him: "Unfortunate Hairline Danny"

Name: Kevin

NBC Calls Him: "Bellhop Danny". Can you guess his profession?

I Call Him: "Bring It On Danny". I just came up with that when I looked at his promo picture, because that is so what he's saying right there. He used to be "Eyebrows Danny"

Name: Austin
NBC Calls Him: "Hot Danny" (I'll wait until your nausea subsides)
I Call Him: "Porno Danny" or "Shoulders Danny", because seriously, look at this dude. He has elephantitis of the biceps. That is not cute. But I think he will win, because who actually votes for these things? Fourteen year old girls. And his face is is pretty in a feminine, non-threatening way (also non-threatening because I am fairly certain that the women aren't the ones that this dude wants, if you catch my drift).

Name: Derek

NBC Calls Him: "Wholesome Danny", which is funny because he looks a little dirty, no?

I Call Him: "Velour Danny", after the unfortunate material that his jacket was made out of on the show last night, or "Uncle Jesse Danny", cause homeboys got a little Stamos going on.

Name: Jason
NBC Calls Him: "Boy-band Danny". I don't know what that means, but this guy is 31 and has no business hanging out with boys anyway.
I Call Him: "Boring Danny". You can tell just by his picture how ridiculously boring he is, can't you?

...and this is why I'll just never be able to breathe out of my nose in my entire life

Because I don't want to end up like Katie Holmes:

BEFORE


AFTER


I need to have my broken, Rocky Balboa-esque nose fixed. They've been telling me this since I was like 14. I can't breathe out of my nose, and apparently that's essential or something (I'll admit, I didn't realize that everyone else can close their mouths and still intake oxygen until fairly recently, but apparently they can). So I can't breathe when I close my lips (and also my upper lip does not comfortably sit right on top of my lower one; they way they're shaped my lips are always kind of naturally parted) AND I just found out that it's giving me cavities. I never had a single one until like a year ago and I almost started crying to my dentist because HELLO I am obsessive about dental hygiene-electric toothbrush, floss, fluoride mouth rinses, gum stimulator (yeah...I stimulate my gums, shut your gross mouth right up please), the whole deal. And then he was talking to me about it and all of a sudden he was like "do you close your mouth" and I was like "listen, if I'm talking too much just let me know, jerk-face" and then he was like "I'm just asking because if you breathe exclusively out of your mouth then the saliva dries up and doesn't coat your mouth or something gross and don't call me jerk-face, please" and I was all "ewww, that's disgusting, please let me die now and also I will call you whatever I please, you charge me 8 billion dollars, thanks."

But I am SO SCARED to do this, because what if I end up like Mrs. Cruise?! My nose is crazy shaped but kind of small, and if it gets messed up there's not like a lot to work with. But insurance will cover it, and you know I'm all about as many free surgeries as possible. Advice, please.

The State of the Union, By Me

"My fellow Americans,
We still have a union?!
Good night, and God bless."



For the first time since I can remember, I didn't watch the speech. It's just too sad. Remember when we used to love each other? It's all a little too War of the Roses for me (the 80's film, not the civil wars in medieval England, thanks). Anyway, I apologize for neglecting the blog. A lot of stuff has gone down this week. Such as:



-That old guy getting kicked off of Grease: You're the One That I Want! (the exclamation point let's you know for a fact that this show is AWESOME). I'm not a man-hater, but can we all agree that no 42 year old woman would seriously believe that she could convincingly portray a 17 year old girl? Only a dude would do that. Seriously, look at him:


At least he's not cheesy.


-It snowed half an inch and Northern Virginia FREAKED the eff out and civilization came to a stand-still. One of my fondest memories is driving through a snowstorm last year in Indiana with about 5 inches already on the ground and cars literally spinning in circles all around me because IU prides itself on not canceling classes since the 14th century or whatever. I forgot how awesome they are at handling inclement weather here. It's the equivalent of the entire region curling up in the fetal position and whimpering.

And that's all that happened, really. I just get in these moods where everything that I write sounds awkward to me, and since I refuse to risk embarrassment/failure at all cost, I just choose not to do it. This is clearly a mature way to deal with life.

This entry is about plastic bags. No, for reals.

There's no time for the whole "and"; not only is there pressing to be done, but sealing as well!

So let me tell you about my new favorite commercial, because it is GOLD, baby. So this guy is on an airplane, right, and an announcement comes on to stow all items and put the trays upright and blah blah blah. But here's the rub: this guy has just peeled and separated an orange into segments. What will he do? WHAT WILL HE DO?!?!! Personally, I wanted him to either a.) freak out and shove the orange pieces in his mouth, all at once or b.) freak out and just slam the tray up, crushing the orange segments into the back of the seat and spraying juice everywhere (like a lot of juice-that's way more comical). BUT our hero doesn't need to do any of that! And why? Because he has packed into his tiny carry-on bag AN ENTIRE ROLL OF GLAD PRESS 'N SEAL. An entire. Roll of it.

And what does this wonder product do, you might ask? Why, by merely tearing off two pieces of this miracle wrap, you can fasten a bag, a SEAL, if you will, around your orange! Or sandwich! Or roller skates!

Question: which would be easier to carry with you at all times for all of your plastic bag related emergencies, a giant roll of paper in a cardboard box, or two small and extremely foldable, already-made plastic bags? Why do you need to fasten a pouch that is the exact right size for what you are trying to contain? Does Saran Wrap not serve that exact purpose already?! We already have those ridiculous "snack-sized" Ziploc bags, because lord knows how perilous it was when your five Cheerios were forced to sit in a bag with all that excess air. And also, how often is one in dire need of a small plastic bag? Is this something that happens often enough to necessitate one's carrying around of a giant roll of paper? I fail to see the logic here.

I'm allergic to my life

I say this because I sneezed approx. 34 times yesterday. That can't be a good sign.

I also saw two movies this past weekend.

#1-Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
So this is a movie about some French dude with a supernatural sense of smell who works as a perfumer and then totally loses his damn mind and starts killing women. The ironic part about this was that I was so congested during the entire movie that I couldn't smell anything. You know how watching a movie about food makes you hungry? All that I wanted to do was smell something nice while I watched this, and yet I could not. I spent like 45 minutes with my nose pressed against the inside of my wrist, trying to smell my perfume, but to no avail. Probably the lowest point of the movie was right after the guy killed the first woman, and I turned to Natalie (um, if there's a terrible movie to see, who else would I be seeing it with?) and said "is it weird that I still kind of want to make out with him?" He was cute, ya'll. Note: later I discovered that the reason I wanted to kiss that cute serial murderer who seemed really familiar was because he played Keith Richards in the movie Stoned, which was terrible, but he was cute in that as well.

#2-Notes on a Scandal
Let's put "seeing Dame Judi Dench naked in a bath" on the list of things I could have lived with never seeing. I think that's all I have to say about that.

Tell me this is not the cutest serial killer ( who looks like vintage Keith Richards) of your life.

Hey, baby, can I buy you a Xanex?

Look, I totally know that my anxieties and neuroses are my own problem. But is this REALLY necessary? I was just starting to feel a little better because we're under 40 degrees in January FINALLY (also, why did I complain about that? I am very, very cold now) and now I have to hear about these idiots and their Clock 'O Fear and I CAN'T HANDLE LIFE.

What the stars were thinking on the red carpet...

Beyonce: "No, the fact that everyone is talking about Jennifer Hudson instead of me doesn't bother me one single bit! Not at all! Why would you say that? Now watch my red carpet burlesque show!"



Sienna: "I am a grown-ass lady dressed as Heidi. And a shower curtain from the 70's. But no, I won't wear make-up. I'm clearly a minimalist."

Reese: "I am so boring. Like ridiculously boring. I'm playing Beatrix Potter, that's how effing boring I am for the love of God. There is no one more boring then me."

Jen: "Oh, I beg to differ."

Sienna: "No, seriously, LOOK AT MY HEAD, WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE."

Jeremy: "I really have to get back to the crypt now."

Angelina: "I'm bored. It's very, very exhausting to be this impossibly beautiful. I don't really know what to do at an award show when "make-out with your brother" isn't an option."

Patrick: "No, I have no idea why all of these women think I'm gorgeous. Have you seen my nose? And borderline Travolta hair? I look ridiculous."





David Bowie: "Why am I here with Angelina Jolie? Angelina: "This party sucks. Who the hell am I supposed to adopt here?



Beyonce: "STILL TOTALLY NOT INSECURE!

Hilary: "Please see my movie about high-school students struggling to succeed under adverse conditions. Disregard the fact that I myself dropped out of high school, and that Dangerous Minds already came out ten years ago."



Cameron: "I saw what happened to Britney after Justin dumped her. I, however, will not end up looking ridiculous. No, I will wear a toilet paper dress because I have DIGNITY."




Kyra: "I am 90 years old. That is all."


Big Love ladies: "We're like Charlie's Angels. If Charlie married all of his angels, they lived in Utah, and Farrah wore floor length jean skirts and french braids."



Chick from Grey's Anatomy: "Oh my God, PLEASE don't tell Elen Pompeo I'm here, just let me blend into the carpet, PLEASE. I'm kind of terrified of her and her clavicle."





Vanessa: "Ha, don't even think about getting snarky with this outfit. You're going to say something about me wearing a dead animal, right? Well, smart-ass: are you talking about my coat or my hair? See? Too smart for you."

Penelope: "No, I don't want to talk about the fact that I'm wearing the same dress as Cameron, but in a different color. Instead, let's discuss how Meryl Streep pronounced the name of my movie as "Volv-urr"."

Ugly Betty assistants: "Our show is both hilarious and heartwarming. Please watch it, because Jenn likes it and her tastes are impeccable. Also, Girl Assistant, aka Amanda, is in an Olive Garden commercial and that is hilar."


Heroes: "Ok, we saved the damn cheerleader. Can we please please PLEASE stop going everywhere together? It's getting weird."

Mario: "Why am I here? Is this The Max? Is it 1987?"

My Thoughts On The People's Choice Awards:

The people suck.

Love,
Jenn


















PS-Seriously. The people who chose the "winners" last night were not my people, if you know what I'm saying. First of all, how the hell did Rascal Flatts win best song for "Life Is A Highway" when all they did was sing it exactly like it was originally recorded, like EXACTLY? And how in the hell did the trite piece of crap that is Failure to Launch end up being nominated for best anything? And CAMERON DIAZ? REALLY, PEOPLE? Disappointed. But I don't know what I expected from viewers who nominated "Two and a Half Men" and "The King of Queens" for any kind of award that is not being given in an ironic sense.

On an unrelated yet equally elitist and bitchy note, I'm getting very, very annoyed with the commercials for Children of Men. They keep saying "it's like the Blade Runner of the 21st century." Wasn't Blade Runner the Blade Runner of the 21st century? It takes place in 2019, and Children of Men apparently takes place in 2027. So I guess you could say "Children of Men is the Blade Runner of ten years after Blade Runner takes place", but I'd hardly say that's catchy.

Something's rotten in the store of Macy's

I only say this because a.) I love a good Hamlet reference, no matter how awkward and b.) because they USED ADOLESCENT GIRL MANNEQUINS IN THE LINGERIE DEPARTMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I mean, for real! They totally used mannequins from the pre-teen department. This camera phone image ( I was going all Dateline undercover, except for the fact that I was shouting to my sister "OH MY GOD, LOOK AT WHAT THESE PERVS DID OVER HERE!" and pointing and waving wildly) isn't that great, but trust me, the bodies of these mannequins were not those of, ahem, developed women. Not to mention the side-pony/fuchsia lipstick combo that you won't find on too many ladies over the age of 14 (except for you, Fergie; don't go changing).

And should you need more proof that the store is overrun by SICKOS (and perhaps I am a bit harsh on them because they refuse to carry shoes over size 10 and what the hell am I supposed to do, fashion two of your tiny baby-sized shoes together just so I can walk places? Jerks), check out what was going on behind the mannequins:

As if this wasn't bad enough, please tell me what the hell was going on in the women's department with this lovely display:

This was completely uncalled for. If you're going to make the mannequins anatomically correct, why not start with eyes or hair? Why is this necessary? And why, for the love of God, are they lopsided?

I don't know what a Tillerman is

It's that time again! The time where I quit cohesive writing and turn to my best friend, Mr. Bulleted Notes to tell you some important things!

• I've been watching season 2 of the show Extras on my computer (it's that British show with Ricky Gervais-please, please watch season 1, it's on HBO and, like, ludicrously funny. I recommend the episode with Samuel L. Jackson, I've found that anyone who doesn't like it has only seen the first episode with Kate Winslet, and it's not the best) and the end credits roll to the song "Tea for the Tillerman" by Cat Stevens. I am a big, big Cat Stevens fan, but it's not really one you want to be singing non-stop for like 34 hours straight, because seriously there are like 13 words in the entire song and I have no clue what they mean. If you haven't seen the show, SEE IT. I don't think I have ever ever ever laughed out loud while watching something alone until today, when I almost fell out of bed and choked on a cookie (hey, guess what, when you are a grown-up, you can eat cookies anywhere you want. That's kind of the best part of it.)
  
• I have no clue what I ever did to Donald Trump, but I can't imagine it warranted the 1.5 hours of screaming he did to me from my television during tonight's Apprentice premiere. Seriously, is it some kind of inner ear situation? Maybe some hair overgrowth? Why must he yell all of the time? And why did I laugh so hard when he told his BABY over the phone during a totally non-scripted moment to "take care of yourself", when that is exactly what babies can not do and maybe if he wasn't so busy schmaltzing up and tacky-fying all of Manhattan he might know this?
  
  
• Ok, and speaking of The Apprentice, can we please talk about the candidates, especially the women? Because they are truly amazing. My favorite is clearly Jenn:
  

Ok, but I need to tell you WHY I love her. As if her picture doesn't scream "VAPID!!!!!" enough, the official website has given all of candidates nicknames that don't really mean anything, like "The Dreamer", "The Leader", "The Olympian" (YES there's an Olympian and it's so random and she is built like a wall and apparently didn't learn not to wear white shoes with a black suit ever in life and yes it was awesome but I don't have time for it now!). Jenn's nickname? THE BLONDE! HAHA I know! But the best part is that there are like four other blonde women, so you know it's not meant in the "the token blonde chick" way, but in the "blondes are ditzy and stupid way" which normally I would hate but here I just love it because DONALD TRUMP YOU ARE RIDICULOUS! Oh, and allow me to introduce Stefani

aka, "The Realist". Not only does she look exactly like Melania Trump, but nothing says real and practical to me like fake tips, a carved up nose, and lips injected with poisonous toxins. Aimee is "The Thinker"
and since I can't decide whether to go with "apparently she didn't think to get some toner for that brassy dye job" or Hilarious Quip #2: "First there was Socrates, then there was Aristotle, now here comes Aimee", I'll put them both out there for you to choose between.

But hands down, let's hear it for Surya

whom NBC has dubbed "The Hair".









Really, Surya?

I think we ALL know who "The Hair" is in this operation.

I resolve to be pale and crazy looking in 2007

Done and done!


Please disregard my rogue right eyebrow (SOMEONE WHO LOVES ME NEEDS TO HIDE MY TWEEZERS, PLEASE!*), and instead notice that my eyes match my shirt! Fancy! Whatever, this picture was taken on New Years, when I was dying of my deadly disease. Be glad I don't have tissues shoved up my nostrils or something.



The reason I am posting this picture is two-fold. One, it gives me the opportunity to discuss my eyebrow problems, which so rarely comes up in every-day conversations. And two, I feel like by posting a picture of me at my absolute worst, with my translucent, makeup-less skin and Enormous Chin of Death (seriously, look at that sucker, it is impressive), people will be pleasently surprised when they see me in real life and I look marginally better. I don't understand people who post like glamour shots of themselves posing to hide their flaws (unless these people don't ever leave their houses or something). My philosophy in life is "the lower the expectations people have of me, the more impressed they will be when I don't suck as much as they expect me to." Feel free to quote me in any college admission essay.





Oh, and also when I try to take a smoldering, sexy photo it ends up like this:



And one can only self-loathe so much before it becomes time consuming.




*I HAVE A HIDDEN PAIR IN MY TOOTHBRUSH HOLDER AND IN A HOT PINK LEATHER CLUTCH HANGING IN MY CLOSET. DEAR GOD, THE SHAME. HELP ME!

I...want...to... BREAK FREE!

Well, this is mildly disturbing. Hmm, mild. Much like the temperature outside in JANUARY. I didn't even wear a jacket today.

Basically, we're all going to die and possibly the world will explode. That's all. Have a great day, friends.

Oh, and here's an open letter to the US Postal Service that I really need to get out there:

Dear Post Office People,
So rain, sleet, dark, etc. won't stop you, but the calendar changing +a 93 year old guy dying = close up shop? NO NO NO. I needed to mail something VERY IMPORTANT today. You've failed me, postal workers of America. Ask FedEx what happened the last time they crossed me.
Love,
Jenn

PS-They got some very disapproving looks from me, that's what. Also, I sighed very loudly, so they knew I was not pleased.
PPS-I didn't intend to sound mean. Just please open tomorrow, ok?
PPPS-President Ford is ruining my life.

Anyone else concerned that this year has a license to KILL?

Welcome to 007! A year that promises to be pretty much the same as last year, except that the probability that I will make James Bond jokes for at least four months is much, much greater. I rang in the new year from my couch, as the plague insured that I lacked the stamina and ability to party like it was 2006. Honestly, I tried. At one point I had even applied eye-liner and plugged in the Chi. But when I realized that my sinuses and pounding head prohibited me from walking in a straight line (and it wasn't the platform wedge shoes that a girl with my height and coordination has no business wearing, promise) I decided that driving wasn't the best idea. Oh, and heads up; don't mix champagne and Sudafed. Or maybe I'm the only one who needed to be told that...

But today I felt healthier! And ventured out of the house! And into my local cinema! To see Dreamgirls against my will!

Ok, Internet. We need to TALK.

Because that movie? Is not good. There, I said it. I can hear your gasps and cries and thuds as your lifeless bodies drop to the floor because I just insulted "ohmigod, the greatest movie eeeeevaaaaaar!" GUYS IT SUCKED. I knew it would, but no one would shut up about how awesome it is or how amazing Jennifer Hudson is or how this movie might possibly cure cancer and have the ability to successfully stage an intervention with Britney. It was GOD AWFUL, and I sat through all 56 hours in disbelief. It was seriously like an "Emperor's New Clothes" situation. I feel a total disconnect between myself and the rest of the viewing public. Just because the people making this movie paid eight quadrillion dollars to produce it doesn't mean you have to like it. And how must Diana feel about this? Why not just call it Supreme Girls and get over it, because it is basically her biography (except the real story of Motown is a trillion times more interesting, go read about it). Also, Beyonce? You can not act. I don't just mean you lack the ability, I mean you can't do it as in you're not allowed to do it, ever again, in any place where humans might see. Please.

The songs are terrible and not memorable at all. Except for this one song that Jamie Foxx sings to Beyonce that goes like this:
"You are my dream
A dream that I dreamed
Dream dream dream dream
Dreamity-dream"

Nightmare.