This morning I quite literally had ants in my pants. How did this happen? Well, let's backtrack approximately three weeks.
I had four or five people over for dinner and we ended up eating strawberries with turbinado sugar and some of it spilled on the couch, and as much as I would like to think that I am entirely blameless, I spilled some on the couch and simply brushed it off on the floor, knowing that I would vacuum later on that week.
The next day, I placed my coke zero mini can (how cute are those?) on one of the end tables by my couch and noticed several ants scrambling to make their way up to the top of the can. GROSS. I quickly squashed all of them with my finger (GROSS^2) and then ran away. After that, I began noticing ants on the couch and then I left a cup of strawberry milk out (as I said, I am a slob) and came back and there were ants ALL OVER IT and I freaked out. Unfortunately, I didn't have any ant repellent or anything so I sprayed them with air freshener and yelled "DROWN! DIE!" at the little creeps.
For the past three weeks or so, myself and my guests have been fending off little ants crawling on us while on the couch. I've tried Dust Busting with my schveet retro green Dustbuster and I now have three ant poison containers out, yet none of this seems to be helping. They even started crawling on my vase of lilies that Bruno* gave me.
So now to how ants came to be in my pants this morning- I have been throwing all my clean laundry to be folded on my couch for the past week because I live in Slobville, USA where the state flower is the Messysuckle and the state bird is the Slobjay. The clothes cannot be put anywhere except for on the couch because the tivo is in the living room and I MUST watch Dawson's Creek reruns while I fold laundry. Anyway, this morning, when I put my pants on, there were ants in them and it was absolutely terrifying. Luckily they don't bite, but I was so grossed out and then went on a cleaning rampage. I only paused to write this because I'm waiting for my kitchen floor to dry so I can wipe up the moppy water.
Have a clean day, everyone, and please, never move to Slobville. It is a bleak place to be and you might get insects in your clothing.
*Bruno is not my boyfriend's real name, but his mom considered naming him that until she found a better one. Sometimes I wish his name were actually Bruno because then in fights it would be more fun to yell at him. "BRU, NO!! NO NO NO!"
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
She's way better than a dead phone line
To put it bluntly, most women in this day and age either loathe, envy, or wish all the plagues of Egypt on one another...and that's just towards acquaintances or strangers; friends are treated with even more contempt. Luckily, I like my friends. In fact, you might even say that I love some of them. Case in point: Cassie. That is not her real name but we decided last summer that it was appropriate for her if I ever wrote a novel and included her. We even tested its believability by using it as the name to put down for a table at the Cheesecake Factory. It worked!
I've learned a lot from Cassie, so without further ado, I present another list.
Things I've Learned From Cassie, or "She's Way Better Than a Dead Phone Line"
1) How to use magic. She knows how use her magic in more ways than one. For starters, she narrowly saved her sister's life by reminding me that "Crucio!" is an Unforgivable Curse (I meant to say "Confundo!", I swear. I'd never use the Cruciatus curse on anyone except maybe Bellatrix Lestrange) all while under the influence of very strong pain medication because even magical people have to get their wisdom teeth removed. She also knows how to work it with the gentlemen and casts a spell the likes of which you've never seen.
2) How to be independently happy. Although Cassie is beyond stunning and the second most radiant star in the galaxy next to the sun, she manages to keep the men at bay. This is a wonder to us all, but she is well aware of the fact that you can't love another person or be happy with another person without being completely happy with yourself. So all the women who're independent, throw your hands up at me! Awkward contraction, Destiny's Child. "Who're"? I dread the day when a 12 year old that doesn't feel the need to add apostrophes into her AIM Subprofile "SONG QUOTEZ I LUV" writes "all the women whore independent..."
3) How to see that every cloud has a silver lining. When I set my favorite blanket on fire because I thought it would be a good idea to put it in the microwave to warm it up, she didn't say "You are stupid and also unsafe." She said "This is almost as good as the time when Anna put that whole can of unopened Chef Boyardee in the microwave." Honestly, though, come on, who hasn't had one of those microwaveable heating bags with rice in them to put on your tummy when it hurts? Shouldn't all fabrics be microwave safe?
4) How to compliment and accept compliments. Granted, it is incredibly easy to give her compliments because she is, as they say, la creme de la creme. But prior to Cassie, I never would have said "THANKS GIRL" to any compliment or uplifting word I received from another person, mainly because I thought it was really awful sounding. But after much debating, we both decided it would be best if she incorporated a little more soul into her vocabulary, and now that same soul is in mine.
and
5) How to listen. She's way better than a dead phone line. Sometimes when I'm jabbering on for twelve decades, the phone will cut out. I never have any idea how long I've been talking for, but I assure you, a good amount of time can pass before I ever realize that there is no one on the other end of the call. Why is this? Because Cassie is such a good listener that when I talk to her on the phone, it sounds like dead air because she's quiet. I know she's listening to me because if she was typing on the computer, I'd be able to hear it because she likes the way her new wine-red nails look too much to ruin them by typing poorly on her keyboard, thus she'd have to use the pads of her fingers which actually make a very distinct noise over the phone. I love her for being one of the only people to never utter the words "Stop talking, please. I might die."
Cassie, this one's for you. I didn't know what I was going to say at first because this blog was intended for my angry ravings, but what can I say? You give me no choice but to be nice.
I've learned a lot from Cassie, so without further ado, I present another list.
Things I've Learned From Cassie, or "She's Way Better Than a Dead Phone Line"
1) How to use magic. She knows how use her magic in more ways than one. For starters, she narrowly saved her sister's life by reminding me that "Crucio!" is an Unforgivable Curse (I meant to say "Confundo!", I swear. I'd never use the Cruciatus curse on anyone except maybe Bellatrix Lestrange) all while under the influence of very strong pain medication because even magical people have to get their wisdom teeth removed. She also knows how to work it with the gentlemen and casts a spell the likes of which you've never seen.
2) How to be independently happy. Although Cassie is beyond stunning and the second most radiant star in the galaxy next to the sun, she manages to keep the men at bay. This is a wonder to us all, but she is well aware of the fact that you can't love another person or be happy with another person without being completely happy with yourself. So all the women who're independent, throw your hands up at me! Awkward contraction, Destiny's Child. "Who're"? I dread the day when a 12 year old that doesn't feel the need to add apostrophes into her AIM Subprofile "SONG QUOTEZ I LUV" writes "all the women whore independent..."
3) How to see that every cloud has a silver lining. When I set my favorite blanket on fire because I thought it would be a good idea to put it in the microwave to warm it up, she didn't say "You are stupid and also unsafe." She said "This is almost as good as the time when Anna put that whole can of unopened Chef Boyardee in the microwave." Honestly, though, come on, who hasn't had one of those microwaveable heating bags with rice in them to put on your tummy when it hurts? Shouldn't all fabrics be microwave safe?
4) How to compliment and accept compliments. Granted, it is incredibly easy to give her compliments because she is, as they say, la creme de la creme. But prior to Cassie, I never would have said "THANKS GIRL" to any compliment or uplifting word I received from another person, mainly because I thought it was really awful sounding. But after much debating, we both decided it would be best if she incorporated a little more soul into her vocabulary, and now that same soul is in mine.
and
5) How to listen. She's way better than a dead phone line. Sometimes when I'm jabbering on for twelve decades, the phone will cut out. I never have any idea how long I've been talking for, but I assure you, a good amount of time can pass before I ever realize that there is no one on the other end of the call. Why is this? Because Cassie is such a good listener that when I talk to her on the phone, it sounds like dead air because she's quiet. I know she's listening to me because if she was typing on the computer, I'd be able to hear it because she likes the way her new wine-red nails look too much to ruin them by typing poorly on her keyboard, thus she'd have to use the pads of her fingers which actually make a very distinct noise over the phone. I love her for being one of the only people to never utter the words "Stop talking, please. I might die."
Cassie, this one's for you. I didn't know what I was going to say at first because this blog was intended for my angry ravings, but what can I say? You give me no choice but to be nice.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Carrie Bradshaw, or "Why I Will Never Order a Cosmopolitan"
I hate Carrie Bradshaw. Anyone who knows me for more than a day can attest to this, and if you are not fully aware of my hatred for TV's favorite tousled it-girl, then you will be in the next three minutes, depending on your reading speed.
Pictures have just been released of Big and Carrie from the Sex and the City movie, set to premiere at the end of May next year. Of course I'll see the movie opening weekend because I love Miranda, Charlotte, Samantha, and Big, but those affections combined cannot overwhelm my animosity towards Carrie.
I could go on and on about the ten zillion reasons why I hate Carrie Bradshaw, but I'll keep this limited to a few select ones. I do have to say that I'm sorry, Candace Bushnell. I love your writing, but Carrie (i.e. your masterpiece) is a thorn in the side of every rational human being I know. NO EXCEPTIONS.
Don't get me wrong- I LOVE SARAH JESSICA PARKER. I own her perfume, and I applaud her for appearing in Gap commercials even though her singing is atrocious and she slaughtered "I Enjoy Being a Girl". Her clothing line is cute and affordable, and she puts on a valiant attempt to act as if she is unaware of the fact that she is one of the most heinous looking actresses in Hollywood, Bollywood, and every other genre of global cinema. That clarification aside, I now present to you my list.
"Why I will Never Order a Cosmopolitan"
Reason #1: Sarah Jessica Parker could SO act better than she does! Its as if she is trying to portray the role of a woman who cannot behave normally. I know all of it is scripted, but does it really say in italicized writing on her script, "Strut as if you have severe scoliosis and rub at your hair as if you have an incurable case of head lice"? NO. She was fantastic and sexy in Hocus Pocus. She was redeemingly funny in The Family Stone and didn't try to outshine Rachael McAdams- who could? But in SATC, she made everyone's life just a little bit worse.
Reason #2: Her voice. I would rather listen to the sound of scarab beetles eating the Mummy (aka Arnold Vosloo) alive than her voice. I can't hold this one against SJP- I've heard her talk in real life, and its nothing like Carrie's sugary sweet, breathy voice. It's awful, especially when combined with...
Reason #3: Her mannerisms. How many times must one jut out one's chin dramatically (as if it weren't promiment enough) to prove that one is confused, pensive, or unsure? Go ahead, go watch Sex and the City right now if you have the DVDs (if not its on TBS at 11/10c), and tell me if you don't notice it.
Reason #4: She has been called a fashion icon. This is a major problem that even SJP admitted to on the E! True Hollywood story of SATC. She said that normal women don't walk down the street wearing what she wears but its part of her job. In that same THS, someone said that her style was even Carrie-d to the fashion runways (that's me saying Carrie-d, not him); he also said that she made women become fashionable. FALSE. Anyone who copied something Carrie wore (except for a few choice items, like the orange dress she wears in L.A.) hopefully regrets that choice by now and looks at it as a lesson learned. I mean really, who one earth would take a cue from someone who wore a red cowboy hat, a yellow pleather tube top, and a sarong, all in one evening?
Reason #5: Her "cute" mouth twitch she developed midway through Season 3. I think that maybe all the people telling her how adorable she was finally went to her head and caused her to begin turning up one corner of her mouth to express "oh well" or "aw shucks" or "ya caught me!". It's the most infuriating smirk in the universe because I watch her knowing that not a single person had the guts to tell her that she looks absolutely ridiculous.
and finally,
Reason #6: Her snappy one-liners. I don't have a rant for this one. All I have is this: One woman's Titanic is another woman's Love Boat.
I hate to be so harsh on one single person. That's a lie. I love it. I will always point and jeer at people who I think look or behave ridiculously, just like a little child might do before his mother tells him its rude. No one has told me that this is rude so far, so until then, I'll just say
....you're only young once but you can be immature forever.
Pictures have just been released of Big and Carrie from the Sex and the City movie, set to premiere at the end of May next year. Of course I'll see the movie opening weekend because I love Miranda, Charlotte, Samantha, and Big, but those affections combined cannot overwhelm my animosity towards Carrie.
I could go on and on about the ten zillion reasons why I hate Carrie Bradshaw, but I'll keep this limited to a few select ones. I do have to say that I'm sorry, Candace Bushnell. I love your writing, but Carrie (i.e. your masterpiece) is a thorn in the side of every rational human being I know. NO EXCEPTIONS.
Don't get me wrong- I LOVE SARAH JESSICA PARKER. I own her perfume, and I applaud her for appearing in Gap commercials even though her singing is atrocious and she slaughtered "I Enjoy Being a Girl". Her clothing line is cute and affordable, and she puts on a valiant attempt to act as if she is unaware of the fact that she is one of the most heinous looking actresses in Hollywood, Bollywood, and every other genre of global cinema. That clarification aside, I now present to you my list.
"Why I will Never Order a Cosmopolitan"
Reason #1: Sarah Jessica Parker could SO act better than she does! Its as if she is trying to portray the role of a woman who cannot behave normally. I know all of it is scripted, but does it really say in italicized writing on her script, "Strut as if you have severe scoliosis and rub at your hair as if you have an incurable case of head lice"? NO. She was fantastic and sexy in Hocus Pocus. She was redeemingly funny in The Family Stone and didn't try to outshine Rachael McAdams- who could? But in SATC, she made everyone's life just a little bit worse.
Reason #2: Her voice. I would rather listen to the sound of scarab beetles eating the Mummy (aka Arnold Vosloo) alive than her voice. I can't hold this one against SJP- I've heard her talk in real life, and its nothing like Carrie's sugary sweet, breathy voice. It's awful, especially when combined with...
Reason #3: Her mannerisms. How many times must one jut out one's chin dramatically (as if it weren't promiment enough) to prove that one is confused, pensive, or unsure? Go ahead, go watch Sex and the City right now if you have the DVDs (if not its on TBS at 11/10c), and tell me if you don't notice it.
Reason #4: She has been called a fashion icon. This is a major problem that even SJP admitted to on the E! True Hollywood story of SATC. She said that normal women don't walk down the street wearing what she wears but its part of her job. In that same THS, someone said that her style was even Carrie-d to the fashion runways (that's me saying Carrie-d, not him); he also said that she made women become fashionable. FALSE. Anyone who copied something Carrie wore (except for a few choice items, like the orange dress she wears in L.A.) hopefully regrets that choice by now and looks at it as a lesson learned. I mean really, who one earth would take a cue from someone who wore a red cowboy hat, a yellow pleather tube top, and a sarong, all in one evening?
Reason #5: Her "cute" mouth twitch she developed midway through Season 3. I think that maybe all the people telling her how adorable she was finally went to her head and caused her to begin turning up one corner of her mouth to express "oh well" or "aw shucks" or "ya caught me!". It's the most infuriating smirk in the universe because I watch her knowing that not a single person had the guts to tell her that she looks absolutely ridiculous.
and finally,
Reason #6: Her snappy one-liners. I don't have a rant for this one. All I have is this: One woman's Titanic is another woman's Love Boat.
I hate to be so harsh on one single person. That's a lie. I love it. I will always point and jeer at people who I think look or behave ridiculously, just like a little child might do before his mother tells him its rude. No one has told me that this is rude so far, so until then, I'll just say
....you're only young once but you can be immature forever.
Fan mail
I used to send letters to my favorite celebrities up until the age of, um, 19. Sending a Christmas card to Peyton Manning SO does not count as fan mail because I did NOT include a self-addressed stamped envelope, nor did I include an 8x10 picture of him to be autographed and returned to me within 6 to 8 weeks. Really.
Before my love for Peyton, though, there was a very different blue-eyed man in my life, and that was Taylor Hanson. I was coy, of course, and didn't send him a letter specifically. Rather, I sent a joint letter to him and his three brothers, knowing that I would need to win their approval in order for them to break their "No Girls" rule for me.
I carefully read "TOTALLY TAYLOR!", my favorite book with color pictures in the center and garnered any information I could about Taylor. Then, when I finally wrote my letter, I wrote only about my interests. By some strange coincidence, I managed to have all the same interests as Taylor, right down to my affinities for mashed potatoes, Chumbawumba, and the word "weird". Who knew that their next hit single would be "Weird"? Not me...
I sent the letter off via snail mail and waited every day for a letter to arrive for me. After all, the book said that if I sent in an actual letter, I might get "something tangible in return". I looked up the word tangible. It has remained in my vocabulary since that day. The note never came, and while I occasionally sent letters to a few other celebrities (the 1997 release of Titanic allowed my friend Kelly and I to write a letter or two to Leo), Taylor always remained in my heart. Many years later, I found out about his marriage to his child bride while she was 4 months pregnant. I dearly hoped that she would get fat after giving birth, and now I hear that she has. THANK GOD. The only famous wife who I do not wish obesity on is Clive Owen's wife. I applaud him for being with such a heiffer. She must be a good cook. Good for you, Clive.
After years of waiting for Taylor to show up on my doorstep, I finally gave up hope. I waited for him, but he would never come. Until recently, I never thought I'd write a glowing letter again, but then I finished the book "Bitter is the New Black". I loved it more than anything and noticed that the author often included letters from her fans and her not-so-fanny readers, so I thought that maybe if I wrote something truly memorable, she'd publish it!
I vacillated between writing something scathing and pithy or warm and encouraging and finally decided on the latter. You attract more flies with honey, I've heard, although I hate flies and I would never leave out an open container of honey in an outdoor area where insects might show up unannounced. I thought it would take me hours to construct the perfect email, but instead I just wrote this:
To: jenwritesbooks@gmail.com
From: awebb@smu.edu
Subject: I can't think of a subject that would make you want to read this anymore than anyone else's email, thus no subject has been selected.
Hi Jen!
I just finished reading Bitter is the New Black (and yes, I italicized that because I am an English major and if this by chance gets printed in a future book, I don't want a professor to read it and say that I am a stupidhead for not properly writing out a book title) and LOVED it. I must say, I formerly thought myself to be the most bitter person on the planet and prided myself on being a malignant, albeit hilarious, tumor on the distorted face of society. This is not to say that I consider you to be the equivalent of a disfiguring facial growth. You are most certainly not. Anyway, if you remove all my digressions from this email you will see that what I am essentially trying to say is, you rock, and from now on I am going to be more careful with my spending. Right after I buy myself a pair of BCBG buckled riding boots that I will wear if I ever decide to take up horseback riding. Not that I'd be willing to ruin them in manure, ew. You are fabulous, your dogs are fabulous, your husband is fabulous, and I will love you until the end of time. Thanks for giving me the first book that has literally made me fall out of my poolside chair in hysterics upon reading about your scarfing of popcorn, anteater style.
Regards,
Alyssia
Aspiring Writer, but most likely to sell roses under a bridge instead.
Do you think she'll publish me in her next book? I hope so. It gets released May 2008....maybe there's still time for an addition!
Before my love for Peyton, though, there was a very different blue-eyed man in my life, and that was Taylor Hanson. I was coy, of course, and didn't send him a letter specifically. Rather, I sent a joint letter to him and his three brothers, knowing that I would need to win their approval in order for them to break their "No Girls" rule for me.
I carefully read "TOTALLY TAYLOR!", my favorite book with color pictures in the center and garnered any information I could about Taylor. Then, when I finally wrote my letter, I wrote only about my interests. By some strange coincidence, I managed to have all the same interests as Taylor, right down to my affinities for mashed potatoes, Chumbawumba, and the word "weird". Who knew that their next hit single would be "Weird"? Not me...
I sent the letter off via snail mail and waited every day for a letter to arrive for me. After all, the book said that if I sent in an actual letter, I might get "something tangible in return". I looked up the word tangible. It has remained in my vocabulary since that day. The note never came, and while I occasionally sent letters to a few other celebrities (the 1997 release of Titanic allowed my friend Kelly and I to write a letter or two to Leo), Taylor always remained in my heart. Many years later, I found out about his marriage to his child bride while she was 4 months pregnant. I dearly hoped that she would get fat after giving birth, and now I hear that she has. THANK GOD. The only famous wife who I do not wish obesity on is Clive Owen's wife. I applaud him for being with such a heiffer. She must be a good cook. Good for you, Clive.
After years of waiting for Taylor to show up on my doorstep, I finally gave up hope. I waited for him, but he would never come. Until recently, I never thought I'd write a glowing letter again, but then I finished the book "Bitter is the New Black". I loved it more than anything and noticed that the author often included letters from her fans and her not-so-fanny readers, so I thought that maybe if I wrote something truly memorable, she'd publish it!
I vacillated between writing something scathing and pithy or warm and encouraging and finally decided on the latter. You attract more flies with honey, I've heard, although I hate flies and I would never leave out an open container of honey in an outdoor area where insects might show up unannounced. I thought it would take me hours to construct the perfect email, but instead I just wrote this:
To: jenwritesbooks@gmail.com
From: awebb@smu.edu
Subject: I can't think of a subject that would make you want to read this anymore than anyone else's email, thus no subject has been selected.
Hi Jen!
I just finished reading Bitter is the New Black (and yes, I italicized that because I am an English major and if this by chance gets printed in a future book, I don't want a professor to read it and say that I am a stupidhead for not properly writing out a book title) and LOVED it. I must say, I formerly thought myself to be the most bitter person on the planet and prided myself on being a malignant, albeit hilarious, tumor on the distorted face of society. This is not to say that I consider you to be the equivalent of a disfiguring facial growth. You are most certainly not. Anyway, if you remove all my digressions from this email you will see that what I am essentially trying to say is, you rock, and from now on I am going to be more careful with my spending. Right after I buy myself a pair of BCBG buckled riding boots that I will wear if I ever decide to take up horseback riding. Not that I'd be willing to ruin them in manure, ew. You are fabulous, your dogs are fabulous, your husband is fabulous, and I will love you until the end of time. Thanks for giving me the first book that has literally made me fall out of my poolside chair in hysterics upon reading about your scarfing of popcorn, anteater style.
Regards,
Alyssia
Aspiring Writer, but most likely to sell roses under a bridge instead.
Do you think she'll publish me in her next book? I hope so. It gets released May 2008....maybe there's still time for an addition!
Excuses, excuses
Apparently, seven years at a private school and two years so far in college have taught me one true thing: In any given situation, at any given time, one can ALWAYS procure a rationalization, regardless of age, gender, or knowledge.
For example, today I rationalized that instead of going to the gym for a workout where I would inevitably lose zero pounds and zero inches because I lack the stamina to remain on an elliptical machine for more than 20 minutes unless there is something really good on TV, it would be a much better use of my time if I spent that exercising hour outside, tanning by the pool. After all, every good magazine tells me that tanning can make you appear 5 pounds slimmer at least!
Exhibit A: Mariah Carey does it all the time; the world has yet to realize that she does, in fact, have the physique of a body builder only without the muscles. Or maybe she now resembles Danielle Fishel of Boy Meets World fame, now the spokesperson for NutriSystem. Poor Danielle. I suspect the reason behind her weight gain is that off-camera, she devoured all those clown burgers at Chubby Checker's that Cory ordered.
Exhibit B: Britney, duh. Her abs were spray-painted on, according to inside sources at the VMAs. Honestly, who can judge her based on that? Given the opportunity and well-trained technicians (if that is a word used to describe people extremely adept at applying a faux bronze glow), I would allow ab muscles to be spray-painted on my body...and so would the rest of Hollywood and the world, if they could admit it. After having 2 children, I'm surprised she managed to hide her C-Section scar with those low-riding, love handle-hugging sparkle briefs. I noticed in one of the many pictures I was poring over, or maybe I noticed it when I was watching her performance for the 50th time on Tivo, that her tattoos on her hips (the one of the fairy and another one that I believe is a cursive "B" if I recall Teen People's article some 5 years ago) were much fainter in color. At first I thought, "Good for you, B. Way to not get your ink touched up and focus on your career." Upon further examination, I realized that the tattoos were not faded, they were STRETCHED OUT from being at a spot on her stomach which gets larger when one is with child. Seriously, nowadays, if you plan on having children with a slumming backup dancer, you MUST get your tattoos lasered off prior to getting pregnant. If the caustic mixture of her cheeto-scarfing, barefoot gas station bathroom-walking genes and his Sean John-clad seed inside her didn't cause her to explode like how it should have, she should have thought about the future of her once prized abdomen.
Exhibit C: Zac Efron. He doesn't need to look any slimmer, but his fake bake certainly makes the gay rumors seem a lot more plausible. It would also explain why Vanessa didn't send those nudey wudey pictures to him; clearly, that's not his thing. Maybe her Louis Vuitton purse in the background is better suited to his tastes.
Well, I've allowed the appropriate amount of time to pass between tanning and showering in order to allow my body to absorb as much color as possible, so I'm off.
For example, today I rationalized that instead of going to the gym for a workout where I would inevitably lose zero pounds and zero inches because I lack the stamina to remain on an elliptical machine for more than 20 minutes unless there is something really good on TV, it would be a much better use of my time if I spent that exercising hour outside, tanning by the pool. After all, every good magazine tells me that tanning can make you appear 5 pounds slimmer at least!
Exhibit A: Mariah Carey does it all the time; the world has yet to realize that she does, in fact, have the physique of a body builder only without the muscles. Or maybe she now resembles Danielle Fishel of Boy Meets World fame, now the spokesperson for NutriSystem. Poor Danielle. I suspect the reason behind her weight gain is that off-camera, she devoured all those clown burgers at Chubby Checker's that Cory ordered.
Exhibit B: Britney, duh. Her abs were spray-painted on, according to inside sources at the VMAs. Honestly, who can judge her based on that? Given the opportunity and well-trained technicians (if that is a word used to describe people extremely adept at applying a faux bronze glow), I would allow ab muscles to be spray-painted on my body...and so would the rest of Hollywood and the world, if they could admit it. After having 2 children, I'm surprised she managed to hide her C-Section scar with those low-riding, love handle-hugging sparkle briefs. I noticed in one of the many pictures I was poring over, or maybe I noticed it when I was watching her performance for the 50th time on Tivo, that her tattoos on her hips (the one of the fairy and another one that I believe is a cursive "B" if I recall Teen People's article some 5 years ago) were much fainter in color. At first I thought, "Good for you, B. Way to not get your ink touched up and focus on your career." Upon further examination, I realized that the tattoos were not faded, they were STRETCHED OUT from being at a spot on her stomach which gets larger when one is with child. Seriously, nowadays, if you plan on having children with a slumming backup dancer, you MUST get your tattoos lasered off prior to getting pregnant. If the caustic mixture of her cheeto-scarfing, barefoot gas station bathroom-walking genes and his Sean John-clad seed inside her didn't cause her to explode like how it should have, she should have thought about the future of her once prized abdomen.
Exhibit C: Zac Efron. He doesn't need to look any slimmer, but his fake bake certainly makes the gay rumors seem a lot more plausible. It would also explain why Vanessa didn't send those nudey wudey pictures to him; clearly, that's not his thing. Maybe her Louis Vuitton purse in the background is better suited to his tastes.
Well, I've allowed the appropriate amount of time to pass between tanning and showering in order to allow my body to absorb as much color as possible, so I'm off.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)