"America: It's like Britain, only with buttons"-Ringo Starr, 1963

"Tell me, what do those pound-note thingies look like? And do they still make those cute-like half crowns? Maureen does the shopping, but she just uses a card which says 'this is money'".

-Ringo Starr, quoted in a 1968 interview for my Beatles "textbook", the Hunter Davies Beatle biography. Too bad he's the cutest in the land And he makes up phrases like " a hard day's night" and used to call his step-father his "step-ladder" when he was little. I also think it is so cool that he was the favorite one when they first came to the US. Which, come to think of it...as a country, apparently we STILL have a penchant for funny looking millionaires with accents who misuse words and were hardcore into drugs!! RINGO FOR PRESIDENT! So let's tell a Ringo story, shall we?

So I don't even pretend to be this lifetime Beatles fan or anything. I mean, I never hated them, they were just kind of always there. My dad used to sing "I've Just Seen A Face" and "Till There Was You" to me when i was little (yeah, he was a Paul guy, he apparently liked him because they both played bass. Sure dad, whatever, you just jumped on the whole "Cute One" bandwagon, but I'll forgive.) I loved the song "Back in the USSR" when I was younger, though, plus "Let it Be" and "hey Jude" have always been on the favorite song list. But I digress. The point is, I will be the first to admit that it's the Beatles class that has caused this change in my musical interests. But, now that I have taken this mammoth class on them and learned all of this crap, I have this huge appreciation for them as a band, and for everything that they did for the music world. Which is why this confession is so. Damn. Embarassing.

So I think that I mentioned this, maybe in e-mails at the time or something, but I had some (minor) brushes with the rich and famous while in London (nothing like my roomate did. Story of my life, I am NEVER in the right place at the right time. FOR ANY THING.) ANYWAY, I saw Stella McCartney twice during my lunchbreaks on the Strand (oooooh Beatles connection! But that's not the big one). We saw some guy from Dashboard Confessionals or something at Wagamama's one day. I saw Elijah Wood by Trafalgar square. And as far as my internship at TIME, i interviewed some scottish mountain climber, who I am sure is famous in his circle, but I was more concerned with understanding what the hell he was saying, which was INSANELY HARD. But one day, this one reporter in the newsroom asked us all to keep it down because he had to interview someone, and the little thingy that you attach to phones to record phone interviews wasn't working, or they were all being used, or something. Anyway, the point was that he had to do some big important interview and he had to put the phone on speaker and record it that way. Ok, cool, whatev, i am too busy trying to check a story on cheese in Argentina or something to really care. And theeeeeen I hear a voice, one of those voices that is so distinct that it is pretty much universally recognized.And I totally said to myself, in my head, "heeeey...that's Mr. Conductor!"

Yeah, you heard me correctly. RINGO STARR is on the speaker phone with my co-worker, and I am thinking about Shining Fucking Time Station. BEFORE I GET HIT IN THE FACE WITH THE OBJECTS THAT EVERYONE IS GOING TO START THROWING AT ME, in my defense, unlike pretty much any of my friends, I had a little brother born in the mid 90's. The soundtrack to my early teenage years consists of Barney and any other show on PBS. So, yeah. Embarassing! And I admitted to it on the internet!! Because I need for others to learn from my harrowing ordeal, lest history repeat itself. By the way, he was so cool, like crazy nice and friendly to this reporter; granted, it was TIME, and people tend to be cooler when you say you are calling from TIME magazine than when you say you are calling from The Bear Facts or something. But this guy was just a regular reporter, no one super important. So, yeah. This is my Beatle story. To make you forget about this confession, I will now present this picture of Sexy Ringo. BAM-you are too confused by the shorts to even remember what I just told you!!

PS: Not Beatle related, but the other day I got out of class and looked at my phone, only to see a missed call. The number? 00-1246 or something like that. No kidding. I was freaked out, I thought that like God was trying to call meor something. And then I got a message and it was Natalie calling!! From Israel!! On her computer!! (I still don't know how that works, though) And she sang me a tornado song!! About hoping that I didn't get blown away!! Wahooooooo!

PPS: While looking for Ringo pictures, I found this:

And doesn't this look like it could have been taken, like, last week? Because I totally know at least 15 guys with this exact haircut. Granted, you probably won't find any of them wearing a pink towel and a gun holster but still.

I'll write you a blog entry you can't refuse

Just got back from watching The Godfather for my Hollywood Italians class. So naturally, I'm writing a blog entry about it instead of doing my work for my other classes.

Some thoughts:

1. James Caan=so, so hot. I came to that conclusion around the time in the movie that he is beating the crap out of his sister's husband. So what does that say about me? Whatever, who cares. NEXT.

2. Speaking of which, if I could I would go back in time and make Caan stand up straight and stop hunching his shoulders. Because even then they were pretty crazy looking, and now he is a hot mess. He seriously looks Quasimodo-esque these days.

3. I LOVE ABE VIGODA and I shall shout it out for all of the world to hear. Those eyebrows....wow. But seriously, I would totally have trusted him and even when he admitted that he was setting me up, I would totally have forgiven him. I love that man, and if I could I would have adopted him as an extra grandfather. Mob ties or not.

4. Diane Keaton looks A BILLION TIMES BETTER now. For real-there are some women who seriously look so much better as they get older, and she is one of them. Her forehead distracted me the entire three hours.

5. Why don't men wear those newsboy caps anymore? Or suspenders? I think any man looks better wearing those.

6. Al Pacino is ridiculous. We should make him president or something.

7. What is one of my biggest fears? Anybody? Well, I'll tell you; revolving doors. I hate them, won't use them, everyone knows that. So I am just sitting here wondering why nobody mentioned the guy who gets trapped inside the revolving door and then gets shot to death. I am waiting for answers people, my so-called "friends".

8. I would be the greatest mafia boss of all. Time. I'm fairly easily corrupted. I would make everyone in my family wear special jackets or something. My main strategy would be to spread rumors about the other families, and make them think that someone else was saying it. It would be like "Hey, look, Smith Family (or whatever, I am trying to keep the racist Italian stuff to a minimum), the Linguini Family (oops, it slipped!!) said you guys looked fat. Also, they said all of your wives were sluts" or something similar.

I don't know why you're surprised, clearly it was inevitable...

...that I would eventually totally lose my shit. I think it has finally happened. I feel like we can blame this all on Sgt. Pepper.

EricaLeigh42783: Goodness
EricaLeigh42783: You are going to need a debriefing from this class, aren't you?
Byline5183: I SO AM
EricaLeigh42783: Hahaha
Byline5183: that's why i am taking rock history in the 60's next semester!!!Byline5183: it's going to be a little beatles, but maybe some hendrix or the byrds can help me out of this
EricaLeigh42783: That is so badass, I am so jealous
EricaLeigh42783: What kind of college do you go to?
EricaLeigh42783: We only have boring classes
Byline5183: ok, seriously, can we talk about what's going to happen, say, the first week in december when we talk about the beatles breaking up and then john and george dying? i am really worried i am going to have a panic attack, erica
Byline5183: people cry every semester, apparently
EricaLeigh42783: Oh my gosh
EricaLeigh42783: Do they make advance appointments with the grief counselors for you?
Byline5183: i am going to have to call my shrink
EricaLeigh42783: I'm slightly disturbed at the momentus-ness of this whole entire ordeal
Byline5183: seriously
Byline5183: it is weird because it is a class on FOUR GUYS for like 8 years. that's it. so you talk about them for four hours a week
Byline5183: it is intense
Byline5183: ok, but seriously:
EricaLeigh42783: Geez...I hope someone teaches a class on me one day...
Byline5183: http://www.zippyvideos.com/5264966761251726/the_beatles_-_hey_jude_live_version_1/
Byline5183: just LOOK
Byline5183: i mean COME ON, after seeing shit like this i have to hear about them breaking up?!?!

and also

Byline5183: i have all of these beatle facts and NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR THEM
Byline5183: they are funny cool things too!!!!! and i am OBSESSED and no one cares!!!
EricaLeigh42783: Oh hey, I remembers those days
EricaLeigh42783: 7th grade report man...
Byline5183: THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS


I mean....I don't think that you understand. Pretty much the only music I listen to (I mean, i love. love. LOVE it but also i have to know all of the songs and who wrote/plays/sings what, so if I start listening to other music it is going to confuse me. Because really? My brain is totally fried at the age of 22. For real, I can't remember jack shit about anything. I can't study, I can't pay attention. I know I have ADD, but that is basically the least of my problems and I can't take those drugs because they will totally bring on The Crazy. Like woah.) So part of the reason I am so into this is because I have to be. And part of it is because I love it; I love analyzing the songs and hearing about their lives and everything. But a big part? I kind of just love caring about something. Because for pretty much an entire YEAR I didn't give a damn about anything. (cue the sad violins). I didn't care about school, I didn't care about my writing, I didn't care about relationships, I did not care that I had the worst dye job in history (HOW COULD YOU ALL HAVE LET ME BLONDE?!?!?! FOR ALL OF THOSE MONTHS?!?!?!?!? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, "FRIENDS"??!?!?). Eh, you don't need to know about the specifics. But to go from not caring about anything on the entire planet to being excited to go to a CLASS, of all things?!?!??! Feels so effing good I can not tell you ;)


(stop the sad violins now, I hate all stringed instruments)


OK NO MORE OF THAT BECAUSE I AM ON THE VERGE OF A BLOG ENTRY LIKE THOSE PEOPLE DO WHO DOCUMENT WHAT TIME THEY WOKE UP AND WHAT THEY ATE FOR LUNCH AND I WILL NOT DO THAT. I JUST. CAN'T.





And just because this little piece of cyber-space belongs to me and I can do whatever I choose with it.....




So what have we learned today, kids? That half of the recent Beatles obsession is the realization of this deep need to feel connected to something . And the other half is because I think George Harrison was. so. cute.

They're ugly, but then again, so is your mom

Ok, Internet, let's talk about something

As early as two weeks ago, a dark force had once again settled on this campus It could be found everywhere you looked; in the secluded corners of the union to the classrooms on the highest floor of Ballentine to the media viewing room in the library.

Pure evil. In ridiculously comfortable sherpa-boot form.

Ok, I KNOW, but here's the thing; I believe that all Midwesterners should get some kind of pardon from the fashion police and be allowed to wear Uggs, regardless of the social implications. Because ya'll? IT'S COLD AS A MOTHER HERE IN THE WINTER.

I have formulated some brief talking points in order to better express my argument:
1. As forementioned, it is indeed mighty cold here. Biting, violently cold My father, who is from UPSTATE NEW YORK for christ's sake (motto: "12 inches of snow, huh....man, are we having a drought or something??? BREAK OUT THE FLIP-FLOPS, WAHOO!!!") came here once in January and almost flipped out. It really is cold as hell
2. You have to walk EVERYWHERE on this campus. Really. A lot of walking outside in the bitter cold and it's NO GOOD.
3. Bloomington's not exactly Milan. There really is no need to be all about the fashion trends. We don't run the risk of having our picture taken by some Glamour magazine "Fashion Don't" photographer.
4. Have you noticed that the people who hate Ugg boots the most seem to be men? The same men who lost their shit over Timberland boots around 1996 and all of our friends, brothers, boyfriends, rabbis, etc. thought that they ere lumberjacks? Coupled with their ridiculous flannel shirts? It was like a costume. I think there is some deeply-rooted masochistic thing going down here. These men want us out of the workplace with our ugly, yet comfortable boots and into their kitchens. Barefoot.
5. I had THE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY ENTIRE LIFE at a shoe store last week. I went to the college mall and decided to stop into Payless, which, as any larger footed woman know, is one of two places where you can almost always find shoes (the other being Nordstrom and, please. This is BLOOMINGTON). So I go into the store and over to the aisle with the 10/11/12's. There are a bunch of people there, but I don't really pay attention and instead start looking (everything is hideous, ps, but that's neither here nor there). That's when I notice the people in the aisle with me; 2 saleswomen and two men. Two men who were GOING AS WOMEN TO A HALLOWEEN PARTY AND NEEDED SHOES FOR THEIR BIG HUGE MASCULINE FEET. All I needed to hear was one of the saleswomen say "yeah, we've had guys in here all week, we don't have much left. You could probably try a 10" and then I proceeded to drop the size 11 shoe I was looking at and peace the hell out of there. I really almost cried. That was pretty much my nightmare situation. The real reason I like guys who are really tall? Not because I like to feel shorter. But because I won't run the risk of him BEING ABLE TO WEAR MY HEELS. Anyway, the point of this? I REFUSE TO STEP FOOT INTO A SHOE STORE AGAIN IN THE NEAR FUTURE. So it is either flip-flops, Uggs, sneakers that are slowly dying, or maybe stilletos. Which I strongly doubt will aid me in getting to class on time.

Some pretty to wash away the awful taste of the previous post

and also

I don't want to hear "oh my god Jenn is talking about the Beatles again, blah blah blah." I don't care. Just be silent and LOOK at how freaking cute he was.

PS: NO, this does not make me dorky/weird/lame. I am taking a 400 level class on the Beatles, which means all Beatles, all the time. Prior to two months ago? I really could not have cared less. Now? I wake up humming "Rain".

PPS: There is a limit to the love I will show towards Mr. Harrison, however. Did you know that people, like, write stories about the Beatles? Fictional, creepy, SEXUAL stories? That skeeves me out. I will stick to posting pictures of him in my blog like some 14 year old internet dork. Yeeeeeeah.

Come here, baby...I'll keep you warm...

You guys...bad news. This is the year of Ugly Coats. Really, really hideous jackets. Like jackets so bad that for a split second you look outside at the blizzard swirling around and think "well...maybe if I run really fast?". My problem is this: I NEED a coat/jacket/whatever. You can not shop for those in Bloomington, you just can not. I can't take my baby to Indy becase, well, he is about to break. I know I have said it a lot in the past, but this is for real. Plus....if I wasn't really worried that he might hear me and then just drive himself off of a cliff because he is at the absolute end of his life, I might ask "did you see the new Explorers? Because they are so hot." But I won't say that. I can't.

On to the ugly. Bear this in mind as well; apparently, matte lipstick is BACK. So your coat will make you look hippy and cheap, and your lipstick will bleed out of your lip lines, causing you to look like a 74 year old hooker. Here we go!

This beauty is called (and I swear to GOD I am not making this up) "long belted warmest jacket". Here is the convo that went down at the Gap headquarters when they were naming it:
Gappie #1: Dude...I so don't want to have to name this hideous jacket.
Gappie #2: Let's make that new intern do it!
Gappie #1: But she doesn't speak a word of English!
Gappie #2: That's why it's SO PERFECT!
This is a skinny, skinny woman with zero breasteses and even less hips. And if she can't really rock a belt over a puffy jacket...trust me, neither can you. This look would work for your little brother, though. If your little brother is a thirty year old woman living in Detroit in 1985 who wears high-tops with her business suit on the way to work. Then he can wear it.

**********

You know what would be a great idea? If we took a winter jacket, meant to keep us warm, and REMOVE some fabric. Nothing looks hotter than a frostbitten midriff. Lost the feeling in your stomach? Oh, no no no. You've merely GAINED the feeling of looking so damn good.

**********

"Officer, I had NOTHING to do with the robbery of "Old Man's Fashions" on Main Street. Why do you ask?"

**********

Uh-oh, I had a personal run-in with this baby. At first glance, eh, a little quirky but not terrible. Until I tried it on. This jacket? HAS PADDING RIGHT ON THE HIP AREA. No joke, it's the pockets or something. Now, I have many friends of many different body types. Some extrememly thin. Never once have I ever heard a woman say "If only my hips were fatter. I would feel so much better about myself." NEVER.

**********

I don't know what's worse about this jacket; the fact that it is long and puffy and so damn 80's, or that it's trying to eat her boot?

**********

"'Cruella DeVille; The Early Years' follows everyone's favorite animated villain as she skins and then wears her first prey; a couch from Joey Butafucco's house"

**********

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed to himself, smiling knowingly. "If this knee-length, royal-blue velour smoking jacket doesn't convince Sarah that I'm macho enough for her, I don't know WHAT will!"

**********

Peter Pan's butch, evil sister models the latest in...capes. Because nothing says practical like wearing a tent on your shoulders all winter long. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I bet that bitch Tiger-Lilly had something to do with this.

**********

This jacket isn't terrible, but I absolutely refuse to believe that this is a man. Just LOOK at his hair. And womanly profile. Ladies, never date a man who looks more feminine than you. It's a killer on the self-esteem.

Yeah, I would like the last 2 hours of my life back NOW.

A couple of years ago, a little movie called "Ocean's Eleven" came out. This film was well-received; critics enjoyed it, audiences like it, and it was overall a pleasant experience for everyone involved (and, for further proof that God is a female, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Matt Damon co-starred in it. Delightful.) And, as it turns out, this little film was actually a remake. The 1960 original starred The Rat Pack. After seeing the remake, one might assume that the original probably had the same storyline, and was probably equally as good, if not better. It was probably campy as all hell, but probably good. Right? Right.
Such were my assumptions as I settled into my seat in Ballentine 109 this Monday evening for my Hollywood Italians class film night, sipping my chai latte and lamenting the fact that I blindly signed up for this stupid class that is held twice a week, with an additional requirement of attending movies every Monday night; TWO MOVIES every Monday, from 7-midnight, if we are lucky and the TA remembers how to operate the SAME EQUIPMENT THAT SHE HAS TO USE EVERY SINGLE MONDAY. Little did I know that after that fateful evening, everything that I thought I knew would be proved false, causing me to question my life and everything that I thought was true in this world.

Belief One: "This movie will be really fun. It will be cool, slick, and probably have a really creative plot, something similar to the sequel."
FACT: It's not, it's not, and it doesn't. The first 20 confusing, convoluted minutes were the longest in my life. I had no clue what the hell was going on. All I knew was that, like in life, they made the only Jewish black guy in the film dance and sing some ridiculous song while standing on a cooler in front of a bunch of men, in some bus station or something. True story. Poor Sammie Davis. All the other men are lounging in hotels, speaking crazy words that I didn't know, and Davis is crooning lovingly to a bunch of dudes. Also, about the eleven? They look like a bunch of my friends' dads. Really, no one would suspect them of jack shit. Just a bunch of balding, middle-aged men hanging out in Vegas (which was SO. DAMN. LAME looking back in the day. ) And can we please talk about the end? SPOILERS SO STOP READING IF YOU CARE, BUT SERIOUSLY, I AM DOING YOU A FAVOR BECAUSE WHAT ENDS UP HAPPENING IS A WHOLE LOT OF NOTHING. Ok, so they rob these casinos and blah blah blah and in the end.....THEY DON'T EVEN GET THE MONEY. And that's how it ends. They rob the banks, and all of the money gets accidentally cremated along with one of the eleven WHO DIES AND NO ONE REALLY CARES!!! They are all like "eh, whatev, more cash for us". Seriously, the guy drops dead in the middle of the strip and Sinatra and Dean Martin just shrug it off and peace out. So I thought that maybe it was some kind of trick and he wasn't really dead, it was all part of the plan or something. Nope. Turns out they are all just really, really bad at crime. Also, there is this creepy ass guy who is like the stepfather of one of the guys who just creeps around, looking creepy. I don't know, I was too distracted by Mr. Martin, which leads me to item number 2....

BELIEF TWO:Dean Martin was so effing cool, and kind of hot too. Also, I love the song "Ain't That A Kick In The Head."
FACT: Oh my dear Lord. Here is my recreation of what the character description said about Dean's character: "He should spend the entire movie walking around in a tux, completely wasted out of his mind, smoking a cigarette, and sweating profusely. Also, it shall be written in his contract that Mr. Martin must sing the song "Ain't That A Kick In The Head" at least 47 times in the film, in every scene in which he appears". TRUE. STORY. He was still kind of hot though. But so, SO drunk. And that song? Literally sang it 6 different times. IN SIX DIFFERENT SCENES. SIX DIFFERENT PIANOS!! Literally, every time he came on screen, I was like "ok, where's the piano?" an there it would be. In a bar, in a casino, in another casino, IN A HOTEL ROOM. Enough already. If I never have to hear that song again in my life, it might be too soon. I don't mind him singing, but COME ON DINO, choose another song.

BELIEF THREE: Sammie Davis Jr. was a crazy, tiny little man.
FACT: Confirmed.

BELIEF FOUR: Casinos are hard to rob, even in the 60's.
FACT: No, they are not! Because apparently in the 1960's, casinos kept MILLIONS OF DOLLARS IN TINY CUPBOARDS, NOT SAFES, CUPBOARDS, NOT REQUIRING A KEY. I kept waiting for the ingenuous way that thy were planning to pull of the heist. They were all paratroopers, maybe they will parachute down into the casinos!! Maybe Frank Sinatra will call in some favors from the mob! Maybe Dean Martin will shock everyone by singing a new song, thus distracting the guards because oh my god, we thought he was required by law to meet a certain quota of singing "bee-uuu-tiful" every day!!! The way they ended up pulling it off? THEY TURNED OF THE LIGHTS AND CONFUSED EVERYONE. For real, ya'll. They turned off the lights and, using this special, magical infrared paint designed by Sammie Davis Jr. which made no sense because the guy was like driving trucks for a living or something, that they had put on the floor, follow the paint to the rooms and get the money from the little stupid cupboards. No locks. No doing anything to the guards except for SHINING FLASHLIGHTS INTO THEIR EYES AND CONFUSING THEM EVEN MORE AND MAKING THEM SING "AULD LANG SYNE". It was like being held up by ABBA or something. This just made me think how crazy smart I would be if I was transported back in time. People would think that I was an effing genius. I would tell the casinos (which, to be fair, they probably had much better security but the Mensa members making the movie didn't even bother to check it out) that, while the darkness can be very scary and debilitating, maybe we shouldn't completely lose our shit and let people steal all of the money. Because what if that happened, like, in a daycare or something? The lights went out, the teachers went batshit, and just let the kids run out of the building by themselves because no lights=we lose all control over our bodily functions and cognitive thinking. Also...maybe the money should be stored differently than the bag of tostitos. TAKE IT OUT OF THE CUPBOARD AND PUT IT IN AN ACTUAL SAFE OR SOMETHING. The people of the 60's would love me. Also, I would tell them that very few women can actually pull off the whole miniskirt thing, and white lipstick never looked good on ANYBODY.

Jenn's Final Word On The Movie: Someone kick me in the head. Please.

You'll Never Work In This Town Again

I know I am on the verge of ruining my reputation as a cool kid by posting twice in one day, BUT: I was watching an old episode of Veronica Mars and GUESS WHO'S BEDSPREAD WAS FEATURED PROMINENTLY? OH YEAH BITCHES:


(That's me with the bedspread, looking apprehensive because now it is like this big Hollywood star, always yelling at me to get it redbulls and vodka, and to make reservations at Nobu.)

Whatever, you get what you pay for...

Well, If I am ever in need of some good old-fashioned ego stroking, I know to come to my blog. Because, seriously, you people are nice and funny and smart. So thanks to everyone who responded and the people who were too chicken and im'ed/e-mailed me instead. But really, was that like you are too embarassed to admit that you read this?? Because if so, EWW. But if it was just because you were too drunk to figure out how to comment, well, ok. I can respect that.

I will also gladly accept that Renaynay plagirizes me for two reasons. One, because I used to seriously imitate how she talked when we were in high-school. Like I would use phrases that she did and say things the same way. I totally did it subcounciously too. But it was probably because she was a year older than me and I thought she was the most badass person in the land. She totally still is. And two, because did you FOR REAL FOR REAL start a blog called "Ferica America"? BECAUSE THAT IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD SO PLEASE WRITE IN IT!!!!

Do you think that the real Erin Brokovich thought she was hot shit when she found out that Julia Roberts was going to play her? Because I totally would! I mean, she is not fug, but she is NOT Julia Roberts. Her friends were probably sooooo over her. They were probably like "hey, let's go out drinking tonight. But DON'T tell Erin because she is going to wear those damn hooker boots and play that Roy Orbissen song over and over and over again. There is just no living with her anymore."

Also.. I am SOOOOO over Desperate Housewives for a couple of reasons:
1. Teri Hatcher, you suck. And Susan? Ridiculous. Why do I want to watch a character who manages to turn EVERY SINGLE SITUATION AROUND SO IT IS ABOUT THEM when I can get that from certain friends any day of the week? Really, now that I've said it, it will be all that you notice. Also, Carrie on Sex and the City. Same thing (Ummm, remember when Samantha had CANCER and Carrie was complaining about that damn ballerina? YEAH.)
2. I hate Nicolette Sheridan's hair.
3. Never have I come across a show that tries so. Damn. Hard. To be quirky and edgy. And, it's just not. A show on ABC watched by mainstream America really can't be that good or innovative or smart, sorry. This is why not enough people watch Arrested Development; it is too smart, and the average American just isn't. This is not to say that if you like it you are stupid; sometimes you need to just watch mindless crap, and that is FINE. But it is not some big, creative, awesome show, at least not anymore.
4. I ABHORE the narrator's voice. Not so much the voice, but the cadence. She uses this ridiculous, like, dadadaDa, dadadaDA, dadadadaDA pattern for every single sentence. Annoying.

Hahahahah, did anyone watch SNL last night and hear the Monroe County shoutout?!?! It was in the Herald Times last week; abuot how the inmates at the prison are going to run out of toilet paper and they won't get anymore because they won't let the warden transfer money or something. I DIED. Because I do not really want anyone to know that I live here. This is like, Hazzard County sometimes. Indiana is like some weird, alternate universe of crazy.




And I will miss it terribly :)

Ain't too proud to beg...

sweet darlin.


OK STOP STOP STOP I promise to no more sacchrine (PUNPUNPUNSWEETPUNPUNSACCHRINE!! Send the Pulitzer to me straight away...)lyrics, just please take one moment out of your incredibly busy day to indulge your favorite person in all of Blog Land. Oh, speaking of which, and I totally wasn't going to bring this up, but since we are on the subject of blogs...

I NEED EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO READS THIS TO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (firstbeatlealbumokiwillshutupaboutthedamnbeatlesnowsorrypleasedon'tgetmad) LEAVE ME A COMMENT ABOUT WHY YOU READ MY BLOG. OR ANY BLOG!! This is soooooooo important, for a story I am writing for magazine reporting. Seriously, I need everyone's help. I DO NOT CARE WHAT YOUR REASONS ARE, JUST FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, TELL ME THEM! There are no stupid answers! Ok, not entirely true. I mean, if you write "because you suck" I might think that is stupid; for one thing I would think it was weird that you read someone's writings whom you hate, but also I don't think that the level of one's suck-itude really warrants reading their work. But tell me anything!! If your reason is "because I am bored", fine!! Or "because you tricked me into clicking that link, you jerk", right on! Or even "because I have a fetish for tall, big-footed journalism majors from northern virginia who will probably never graduate and loves green tea more than is really necessary and still has a secret crush on Tom Petty, even though he now looks like someone's grandmother a little bit", cool!! Well, ok, maybe not COOL in the sense that "oh, you've climbed Everest? Cool", but you know what I mean.

IF YOU DO NOT COMMENT then I will never forgive you, EVER. It will also make me look totally ridiculous to my professor, a 75 year old man who I had to first explain what a blog is to (he doesn't even use e-mail!! For reals, ya'll!!) and then I had to convince him that people actually read other people's blogs.

Seriously, I know who clicks on the link to visit this site. I will KNOW if you read this and don't comment. And then let the hate begin! No...I probably won't hate, but I will be so sad and it will be totally awkward if I ever see you at a cocktail party. No one wants that. If I don't know you, EVEN BETTER!!! Seriously, please just leave a comment. You can comment anonymously too!! I would prefer names (and since this is a "personal experience" type thing, I will probably only use first names, so do not fear about your identity being divulged to the world (aka, my mag prof. Maybe, MAYBE I might try to freelance this piece, but most likely not).


SO HELP ME OUT! Click below, YOU ARE ALMOST THERE!!!

Ummm...this is post is kind of boring. Sorry!!!

I get high with a little help from my friends.....

also, i am one goofy bastard, aren't I?!?!?

On to the boring!!!!

A - Age: 22

B - Band listening to right now: All beatles, all the time. I have a test tommorow on "Beatles for Sale", "Help!", and "Rubber Soul". I adore "Rubber Soul", ps. Seriously, best class I have ever taken, but it WILL be nice to listen to some other music one of these days (seriously, I can't...this is a 400 level class about EVERY Beatles song ever and it is awesome, but kind of exhausting.

C- Career of the future: what? you mean i am going to get to graduate someday?!?!??! YES!!!

D - Dad's name: George. I call him Jorge. He says he hates it. This matters not to me.

E - Easiest person to talk to: MYSELF

F - Favorite song at the moment: Tie: "Norweigan Wood", "Girl", both from Rubber Soul.

G - Gummy Bears or Gummy Worms: i HATE all things gummy. HATE. I am pretty much the only person in my family who feels this way though. The texture is so, so sick.

H - Hometown: Born in Washington, DC. Lived in Arlington, Alexandria, Annandale, and Burke VA.

I - Instruments: I pretended to play the clarinet in the 5th grade. the idea of licking that reed and then putting it in your mouth kind of squicks me out. I mean, I know a lot of my readers enjoy a nice, wet, piece of wood in their mouths, but...yeah, I went there. it was totally inevitable, though.

J - Job title: Shut up, now you are being a bastard.

K - Kids: I want to have like five kids. I really, really want to one-up my mom. So I can always say "No, you DON'T know how hard this is!! YOU only had FOUR kids!!"Yeah, I am pretty much counting on a life of drama already.

L - Last person you talked to on phone: The Lizard.

M - Mom's name: Eileen. Do my parents have the most grown-up names you have EVER heard? They totally do.

N - Number of siblings: 3. Liz, aka, The Lizard, aka, Tic-Toc, aka, Iz, age 19. Caroline, aka, Thud (i'mokay), aka CareBear, age 13. Josh, aka JoshMan, aka, Notorious JMB, age 11.

O - Oldest sibling: That would be me, ya'll.

P - Phobia[s]: HEIGHTS. ohmygodsososcared of ferris wheels.

Q - Favourite Quote: "And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make" and "Once in a while you can get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right"

S - Sibling(s) name: Um, see above, jigga.

T - Time you wake up: I....didn't go to sleep. Come on, now, you know me.

U - Unknown fact about me: I would totally do every male character on Arrested Development. George Michael and Henry Winkler included. Seriously. Oh come on, you would too. Funny men=kind of hot even if they are weird looking.

V- Vegetables you hate: MUSHROOMS. Fungi are not welcome in my salads.

W - Worst habit: Opening up diet pepsi cans, taking one sip, then putting it down somewhere in my room and totally forgetting about it.

X - X-rays you've had: ahahahah, a billion and twelve. Plus an MRI on my knee and it totally was pulling on my braces. The best x-rays ever, though, are chest x-rays. Every time I go to the hospital with breathing problems, i have to do one, and, let me tell you this; if you are a woman, or maybe you just happen to own a pair of breasts, then you better mentally prepare yourself for that shit now, should you ever have to do one. Because this is what it entails: Take of all clothes from the waist up, including bra. Put on crazy gown. Go out to the technician. Put on that little ovary-protecting lead apron thing. And then......grab your breats, lift, seperate, and press up against a wall type thing. Yeah, y'heard. It's better if the technician is an Indiana man with two teeth, by the way. it's not at all awkward to have a guy like that watch you AS YOU POSITION YOUR BREASTS AGAINST THE X-RAY BOARD. I'm still having nightmares.

Y - Yummy food: vegetarian sushi!!!!! but only cucumber/carrots. avocado makes me die inside. a fattening vegetable which tastes like chalk? no thanks.

Z - Zodiac sign: Taurus. And that's no bull. AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA, puns!!!!!!!!

Also, I would just like to say that the Colbert Report warms my heart. And not just because I think broadcast "journalists" are little more than monkeys with hairpieces!!! Which I totally don't think and I definitely don't snicker to myself every time I hear someone in one of my journalism classes say that's their concentration, nor do I mutter "get your ass over to the telecom school and stop wasting my time.....loser".

I also HATE that motorola commercial with all of the musicians in the phonebooth. Because, why are you making fun of Biggie? He is dead, ya'll. That is so mean. But what can you expect when you invite Bootsie Collins to your phonebooth party? I'm no Hollywood expert. But I will say that he was the inspiration for the Regina George character in "Mean Girls". Bootsie, you are a bitch.

Shirley MacLaine wants to make you cry.

Seriously. Bitch is in BOTH "Steel Magnolias" AND "Terms of Endearment", which every female knows are the two most tear-inducing films of all time. SO either she wants to make you cry, and hard, or she has some very serious mother/daughter issues. And also, how is it that she has aged SO much better than her brother?!? Warren Beatty is three years younger and his face kind of resembles a raisin.

Something To Think About:

If you are going to cheat on your husband, it should be with his twin brother. That way, if you accidentally get pregnant, he will not be suspicious once he sees the baby and won't think that it doesn't look like him.


I am soooooo out of things to write about here. I will take requests, though. But don't ask me to write anything dirty. I DON'T do that.







Anymore.

It's time to play another round of "There Is A Special Place In Hell For You"!

And today's contestant is: ding ding ding!! Come on down, People Who Put Their Feet On Your Chair And Tap And Kick Incessantly!! We have a booth on Level 3 for you. You want to take a right at the table of heathens, but if you reach the cannibals, you've gone to far. You know what, just ask Dante, he's down there anyway.

Oh, I am serious about this one, ya'll. You know who I am talking about; the people who sit behind you in class or in a movie theater and actually put their feet on the back of your chair. Because, you know, they can not see the body sitting in said chair. Yesterday I was blessed enough to sit in front of a guy who kicked my chair to the beat of "I Just Saw A Face" as we studied it in Beatles class. It was really precious how he thought that my big IU sweatshirt was so powerful that it wouldn't even detect the vibrations. No amount of over the shoulder glances affected this prize of a man.

Here's the thing; it doesn't actually cause any physical pain, and it is really more annoying than anything. But the reason why these people suck so hard? Because the blatant lack of give a fuck-itude they display to other people. They can sit in their chair undisturbed, but no, you can not. You must be kicked in the back by these assholes. If I wanted to get kicked all day, I would either be a soccer player or get pregnant (and OH MY GOD, totally off topic, but I was doing research for a story on infertility, and I was reading these message boards. And this one woman? Referred to having sex as...wait for it..."DOING THE BABY DANCE." And that is when your fair blogger spit her green tea all over her laptop because OH. MY. GOD. You may not get pregnant, but you can pretend like your husband is your son because, rest assured, he will never, ever see you as a sexual being ever again. And if he decides to try and view you as more than a human incubator, he will not be able to perform, as that dancing baby from Ally Mcbeal will be ingrained in his head.)

The ONLY reason I can see for accepting someone's foot on your chair is if they are like 7 feet tall. But here is the irony; I am tall, with long legs, and people with long legs like physically can't put their feet against the back of someone's chair. So it is a bunch of short asshats who do this. Seriously, COME ON. My fave Fort Wayn..ian, John is 6'3 and I guarantee when he sits down he is much more uncomfortable in a cramped space than you are, but he does not choose to rest his shoes on your shoulders. I will thank him on your behalf.

If you commit such a felony...seriously, do not even tell me about it. I will think that you suck. Chances are if we have gone to the movies together or to class and I have seen you do this, I have taken note and when judgment day rolls around, and I am undoubtedly called upon to help with the decisions of the fate of humanity... will probably conveniently forget about your ass.

But have no fear; it is never too late to grow into a human being.

A Tale About Clive Owen. And Pregnancy. Although I Am Fairly Certain He Is Not With Child

So...let's talk about Clive Owen. And the wonder that is he.

I was home this weekend and "Closer" was on TV. I saw it in the theater (doesn't that sound kind of old-timey? I feel like I just typed "I went to see a picture, see, and it was a talkie.") and loved it. And I remember thinking "oh, Clive Owen...you sexy, sexy beast." Or, I probably didn't exactly say that because I am not a sex offender. But I thought that he was aesthetically pleasing. And re-watching this flick (this entry contains 238238 different words for motion picture, by the way),simply drove that point home (not a sexual euphemism...promise.) He is just CRAZY HOT. I don't know what it is, but he is seriously, like, fabulous. And differently fabulous from other actors.
I read this study once that talked about how women are more into manly, virile, testosterone-laden men when they are ovulating. Something about how on a biological level, when women are most fertile, they seek out the most likely to, in medical terms, "knock them up". So a woman's libido is something like this:

Day 7 (of your cycle-but that word kind of makes me think of those films about puberty from the 70's, and it's kind of iccch, but whatever): "Ohmygod, I love Jude Law, he is SO SO SO PRETTY."
Day 11: "Wow, David Beckham has GREAT skin- I wonder what his skin-care regimen is. I love me some metrosexuals! HE IS SO SO PRETTY."
Day 15: "YES, I AM CARRYING AROUND THIS PAYPHONE IN HOPES OF ATTRACTING RUSSELL CROWE SO HE CAN HIT ME IN THE FACE WITH IT, DRAG ME BACK TO HIS CAVE AND WE CAN MAKE HAIRY,ANGRY, AUSSIE BABIES TOGETHER!!"
Day 19: "I love the fact that Brandon Boyd weighs less than a 15 year old girl. HE IS SO PRETTY!"

And so on, and so forth. In case you are curious, and not knowledgeable about the workings of the female body, day 28 looks like this: "Men? MEN?!?! NO, I DO NOT CARE ABOUT MEN AND I HATE THEM ALL!! NOW HAND ME MY MOTRIN/BEN AND JERRY'S COCKTAIL AND HEAT UP THAT HOT-WATER BOTTLE, BITCH!!"

Yeah, I have no other purpose in this post but to talk about how hot I think Clive Owen is, and how he was ROBBED at the Oscars. Also, if he was a product and I was in marketing I would make his slogan be "Clive Owen: Completely Worth The Cramps."



What are your feelings on Mr. Owen? Do you have a witty story involving PMS? Perhaps you would just like to add a nice note thanking me for abandoning my studies to write in this blog, because Lord knows I am not doing this to simply procrastinate, and it is all for you? Please leave a comment below and share it with the class.