As Seen On Yelp...

It's that time of year again and I need me a haircut. The last time I got a hair cut it was awful. Anyone know someone? Hook a sister up. Please make sure it is not at the Aveda Institute. I have qualms about that place and here is why...

Being in dire need for a long overdue haircut, I decided to try Aveda after seeing the great reviews posted. I'm sad to say, I was pretty disappointed. I'm sure that there are a lot of talented stylists there and I saw a lot of very happy clients, but unfortunately for me, I drew the short end of the stick.

The stylist that they gave me looked very uncomfortable from the moment I sat at her station. When I told her how I wanted her to cut my hair (I even showed her a photo), she looked like a deer in headlights, which made me feel very uneasy since I didn't ask for anything difficult--just choppy layers and textured bangs.

Throughout my appointment, she apologized at least 6 times since she was a little clumsy. She got water in my eyes when she was shampooing my hair (not a big deal), but then she also managed to spritz my whole face with her water bottle while attempting to fix the nozzle. I'm surprised that I don't have little cuts on my face from her since she kept poking me with scissor blades while she was cutting my hair. Also, she kept burning my scalp while she was blow drying. On top of that, I basically sat in silence the whole time, since she wasn't much of a conversationalist, which is fine, just kind of awkward. When I told that I was expecting the layers to be a little more choppy and I preferred by hair to be blown out straight, she became a little defensive and frantic.

Towards the end of the hair cut, when she was touching up my hair with product, I was trying to rush her and told her everything was fine just because I wanted to get out of there. Needless to say, the outcome was not exactly what I wanted. I managed to walk out with the "Rachel" and I would have been okay with it if it was 1995.

I understand that the stylists at Aveda are students and still learning, but I was still expecting to get someone who had some sort of idea of what they were doing and something close to what I wanted. And I am not saying that this is a horrible place to go, because it was very nice and everyone was very professional. I'm just saying that the only way I would be willing to give this place a second chance is if they promise to never give me Stacy as my stylist ever again.

Beer Pong For Kids?

So I was watching the Disney Channel per usual (it's fine because I'm pretty sure I'm going to be a cougar when I grow up), and I came across a commercial for Cuponk. You don't know what that is because you're not down with the kids like me. Let me know explain to you what it is, Cha Cha. Basically, it is an extreme version beer pong sans alcohol (as far as we know). This cup makes noises and flashes lights at you when you get the ball in there. Also, it looks like it comes with a sweet deck of cards.

Why this is remotely cool and why it is being targeted to children and not college students is beyond me. As soon as I saw this, I thought this would be awesome when your all crunked up. With this said,  though I feel like this product/commercial is subliminally promoting underage drinking, I also feel like it's prepping kids for college. Whooo! What do you think?

I Love You Like A Fat Kid Loves Cake... Or Do I?

Everyone is familiar with the Oedipus Complex and the Napoleon Complex. Today, I would like to take this time to educate you about the Fat Kid Complex. This complex is a group of largely unconscious, repressed ideas and feelings which center around the desire to be accepted as a fully functional, healthy normal adult instead of the bucket of pudge they were as a child. According to modern psychoanalytic miotic bioposy motion picture theory (Big words make it sound real, right?), the complex appears post puberty once the subject loses their baby weight, but close family and friends refuse to recognize them as a different person and still percieve them as some sort of freak Baby Huey. Growing up as a chubby kid, I have developed this complex innately and have suffered its repercussions.

For some reason, if you were a fat kid growing up, it will follow you for the rest of your life. Even if you lose the baby fat, your family and friends that knew you growing up will only see you as a fat kid. Take Jerry O'Connell for instance. Even though he is married to Rebecca Romijn and has had slue of crappy shows and horrible movies, he will be forever remembered as the fat kid from Stand By Me. You will always get XL sweaters from grandma for Christmas. When you visit distant relatives in far off lands, they will always tell you how they remembered how you were yay big and this wide. Even though you have taken your sweet time to hide mortifying photos of you in your bigger days, somehow your mother will always manage to bring out the one photo you have in a yellow polka dot bikini with all your little rolls hanging out when you bring someone over. (No, I'm not bitter at all.) Sure, it was cute then, but there is no need to relive the past.

Carl Jung insists that the core of this complex is the archtyple figure of the Maury Povich Baby, but he does not go on to explain the relationship between the subject and the said architype. The image of the Maury Povich Baby is not to be taken literally of course, but the meaning behind the Maury Povich Baby,  paired with the fact that parents actually feed babies eight sticks of melted butter instead of milk and 17 Denny's Grand Slams with a side of bacon, points to the ubiquitous existence of this particular archetype. Think about it. Babies on the Maury Povich show are morbidly obese because of their parents' needs to appease them and make them happy. Growing up, they may or may not lose this weight. If they do, great. But since they are already predisposed to this, their parents and other family have grown accustomed to them being a certain way and this way is apparently the chubby kid, that they never want to be again.

Case in point, Mom parental units of former chubby kids--we are no longer the chubby kids you raised, but young adults. We do not need to be reminded that we were overweight as children and no, we do not need to wear extra large clothing. Please slow your roll because your overparenting will only lead us to develop additional complexes and turn to binge drinking, promiscuity, and/or bulimia. K? Thanks. :)

...And You Thought Earth Girls Were Easy.

So I know that I may be late to the party when it comes to ABC's new show, V, but I'm just catching up on my new guilty pleasure that only further perpetuates my irrational fear of aliens. Anyways, after watching the first new episode, I have come to the conclusion that Anna, the head of these "visitors", is actually Baraka from Mortal Kombat. She manifests herself into this beast after mating (but right before eating her sperm donor) and getting herself all 16 and pregnant. Oops! I forgot to say SPOILER ALERT. I just wanted to share a little observation with you. :)

Working Out or Having Sex?

Contrary to popular belief, I'm a pretty laid back person. It takes a lot to get to me. Yeah, I don't like many people, but that doesn't mean I'm not nice to them. On the rare occasions, I see a fellow tenant in my building, I'm always sure to give them a smile and hope they have a pleasant day. It's just the courteous thing to do. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's in every lease and in the friendly neighbor handbook you get when you move in. (If you don't have one, you can obtain your copy at: www.itscommonsense.com.) Also, in this aforementioned handbook you will find your apartment's noise policies, which state on page 54 Section XXI Paragraph M:

...As a courtesy to your neighbors, there is no need to furiously fornicate and/or jump rope at all hours of the day/night... especially if your building is not sound proofed and your wholesome neighbor below you can pinpoint your exact location at every point in time.

Okay. You got me. There is no handbook, but there should be. Seriously though, folks, my upstairs neighbors are either hardcore about working out or hardcore porn stars. I find myself constantly asking an age old question: Are they working out or having sex? Whatever they're doing up there, they need to stop or at least do it at, I don't know, not peak sleep hours. Everyone knows I need my sleep or I'm not a joy to be around, as I usually am.

Whenever I am home, all I here is jumping and whipping sounds. At first, it was just jumping, but I could hear their bed creak, which led me to believe that they were just bumping uglies. Totally understandable. It happens. But then I started hearing it in other parts of my apartment. The jumping noises have moved from above my bed to above my bathroom and then above my kitchen. I thought nothing of it and thought my neighbors were just getting frisky all over the place. Again, nothing wrong with that. They are in the privacy of their own home. Before I knew it, these noises started to involve some sort of rope. (Let your imagination do what it will with that.) Were these people getting kinky? Or jumping rope? The noises became more and more frequent. All day and all night, I would just hear constant jumping. I was fine with it at first, but now, it's starting to get to me.

There have been a number of occasions where I have been tempted to march up there and tell them to cut it out, but part of me doesn't want to be that neighbor. I've wanted to do the old broomstick the ceiling, but I don't have a broom and if I did, I would not want to muck up my ceiling. What do I do? I'm asking for your advice, friend of friends.

Help!

Lost Lessons By IDK My BFF Kim

First and foremost, I would like to apologize for neglecting to update this blog, but trust me, I have a good reason. See, my life, as of late, has become consumed by a little phenomenon I like to call, Lost. Yeah, I know. I'm a little late to the party, but so what! I started watching this show a few weeks ago and became obsessed. Not only is this show wildly entertaining, but it taught me a few things about life that I never knew and/or confirmed what I already knew. So, friends, I'd like to share with you some Lost Lessons. (Oh, and for the sake of crazies who aren't up to date with the show (Meegan) and I know I'm not going to tip toe around things that happened, I guess this is where I am supposed to say: SPOILER ALERT.)

Lost Lesson 1: It's a Small World After All.

You know that game, 6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon? Or that social networking site, Facebook? In a nutshell, life is basically like that. We are all interconnected in a weird way. Lost shows this in its characters' flashbacks/flash forwards. Regardless of whether or not Flight 815 crashed on the island, these people's lives would still impact one another for better or for worse. Take the Jacob character for instance. He took it upon himself to see the main characters of the show at their most vulnerable moments (Kate and Sawyer as children, Jin and Sun at their wedding, Locke after he was thrown out of the window, etc.). And if the plane never crashed, Sawyer would've become a cop and he still would've worked with Miles who would set him up on a date with Charlotte, who he would still f the mess out of. I guess what I am trying to say is that fate has a funny way of working and the people who are meant to be in your life, will be in your life no matter what crazy path you choose.

Lost Lesson 2: You can take the girl out of the bull dyke, but you can't take the bull dyke out of the girl. (That doesn't sound right, but you get where I am going.)

Girl Fight, Fast and the Furious, S.W.A.T., and Lost. These are the most memorable movies that actress, Michelle Rodriguez, is most known for. FACT. These roles all call for the same type of woman: butch, intimidating, scary, borderline man-hating lesbian with emotional issues. FACT. Michelle Rodriguez is unfairly being typecast into these roles because she is the only woman in the world who's aura can emasculate a man, terrify a woman, and be the main suspect in a rape/homicide and still not be convicted for fear that a potentially more obscene and graphic Shawshank Redemption-esque rape scene may ensue. FACT. If anyone were to make a movie that called for a scary butch lesbian type that hides her feelings under a very scary butch exterior Michelle Rodriguez would be at the top of their casting list. FACT. Michelle Rodriguez scares the gum balls out of me. FACT. You get my point.

Lost Lesson 3: Ethnic people can be attractive too.

If you knew the pre-Lost me, you knew about my aversion to people of color. It's nothing personal. I just like my men like I like my teeth---straight, white, and strong. (Trust me. This was the least offensive analogy I could come up with.) Lost showed me that I should keep an open mind because there are good looking men from all over the world. The ageless Richard Alpert showed me that not all Spanish men are gay. Just because they are clean and pretty doesn't mean they enjoy the company of men. They are just more in touch with their feelings (duly noted after this passed episode) and have lush eyelashes that only make it look like they are wearing a lot of eyeliner. And when Sayid wasn't being the island's Geek Squad and assassinating/torturing/beating up people, he wasn't too shabby. He was also pretty romantic when he was trying to woo Shannon in the first season. Am I right, ladies? Then there is Jin, the light at the end of the tunnel. Just when I thought the Asian man could only evolve into rice burner loving racers or a contestant on ABDC, Jin proved me wrong. He's smart, sweet and loving, but he can still beat the crap out of someone. When the freighter blew up and he wasn't on the next few episodes, I was genuinely worried about his well being. I really didn't want him to die. If it weren't for Sawyer, Jin would definitely be the hottest guy on the island. (Insert obnoxious hoots and hollars here.)

Lost Lesson 4: Stereotyping is wrong.

To some extent, George Clooney's character in the film Up in the Air was right. It is "faster" to stereotype people. Hell, I'll even say it's just more convenient, but let me tell you, it is wrong, dear friends. You hear me? Wrong! After all, how wrong were the survivors of Flight 815 when they first got on the island? Sawyer accused Sayid of being a terrorist just because he is an Iraqi. Sayid assumed that Sawyer was the felon being escorted by the Air Marshall just because he was the southern man with a bad attitude and a gun. Michael hated Jin and Sun because he assumed that just because they were Korean, they hated all black people, but Jin only hated Michael because he thought that he stole his father-in-law's watch. Also, Jin and Sun were alienated because they couldn't speak english. Because of all their prejudices, it took a while for everyone to bond and work together to try to get off of the island. After opening their minds and having a little more patience, everyone seemed to grow more and more fond of each other.

Lost Lesson 5: Matthew Fox is really boring.

Remember the joke Seth Rogan told to Kather Heigl in the movie, Knocked Up? Well, you should. He asked, "You know what's interesting about Matthew Fox? NOTHING!" And after the first few episodes of Lost, I couldn't agree more. I mean, yeah, we get it, Matthew Fox aka Jack Shepherd, you are a doctor and you have daddy issues. Get over it. Everything he does episode is predictable: bitch/moan, woo Kate then cry over her, suture someone, flashback, daddy issues, back to the present, cue meaningless epiphany, ponder life, fade to black, rinse and repeat. Sure, he is crucial to the plot line of the show (debatable), but grow some balls and I'll fain a little more interest, Doc. With that said...

Lost Lesson 6: Love Triangles are Overrated.

Love triangles are always supposed to be juicy and keep the interest of the audience. Take a look at the kids of Dawson's Creek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and even Saved by the Bell. They follow one simple formula: 2 Hot Guys + 1 Hot Girl + Crazy Sexual Tension Between All Parties = Successful Love Triangle. Right? Wrong. Lost just happened to f up this formula by using Matthew Fox, who may be easy on the eyes, but happens to be crazy boring. They got the hot girl part right with Kate, but she gets boring too since we are constantly reminded that she is a fugitive on the run. Unfortunately, this cancels out Jack Shepherd. They have one ace in the whole that keeps us entertained for a little bit. This is where Sawyer comes in, but unfortunately Lost still manages to prove this equation false. Watching scenes with Jack and Kate were almost painful since Jack was this lovesick puppy who was trying to act cool around Kate, but he would continue to fail. Kate knew about Jack's feelings and obviously liked the attention, but totally had a thing for Sawyer because let's face it, who wouldn't? But when the Jack would be distant, she felt the need to get physical with Sawyer. And since he is real life grown up, Sawyer would get all mushy and tell Kate know how he felt about her. This scared her and drove her to the good doctor. So she went back and forth between Sawyer and Jack, which got old real quick.

Lost Lesson 7: The Pompous A-Hole Always Gets Laid.

As long as we are on the subject, who would you rather sleep with: boring and lame Dr. Shepherd or hot bad ass con-man, Sawyer? I think the answer is blatantly obvious. If you wouldn't rather sleep with Sawyer, you're un-American. Every girl loves a bad boy (it's science). For some reason, the emotional insecurity and unstableness that they provide you when they decide to come around is so.... well, sexy. The woman on the island are no exception because Sawyer is the guy that gets laid the most. He's bedded Kate many a time, Ana Lucia (despite her huge wanger), Charlotte in the alternate universe, and even the baby doctor, Juliet. Le sigh. Sawyer. He's just the boy all the good girls want.

Lost Lesson 8: Everyone Should Have a Chubby Friend.

I'm pretty in love with Hurley (in a very platonic kind of way). So he sneaks ranch dressing into the jungle and sees dead people, but doggone it, I think it is part of his charm. Out of everyone on the show, he is definitely the most loyal and genuinely caring. Hurley made living on the island bearable--building the golf course and having a food party. He was the comic relief and he was sooo sweet. But when something is going down and Hurley doesn't like it, you best be listening to him. Had Locke listened to Hurley, the hatch probably wouldn't have blown up. Plus, I wouldn't not listen to him because he talks to dead people and stuff. Duh! It makes me wish I had a chubby curly haired friend named Hurley.

Lost Lesson 9: People who you think may be Jesus just may not be.

So, I may have Lostpedia-ed a few theories about the show and this led my to believe that John Locke may be Jesus. I know. I know. I couldn't have been more wrong. But in my defense, there was a lot of evidence pointing to him being Jesus. Locke had these healing powers, loved helping everyone, and the ability to talk to this Jacob (who I thought was God to some extent). Not to mention, he was super wise. Boon hung on his every word. He helped Charlie get over his drug addiction and eased Claire into motherhood. Locke also always spoke about his faith openly. His voice was almost motivating and his words were very sincere, which probably led him to have a lot of people trust him and become his follower. Then Locke decided to die and raise himself from the dead, which is also pretty Jesus-like (Happy Easter). From that point on, it was kind of down hill. Turns out that it was his blind faith that got him killed and made him into the murderous smoke monster. No. Big. Deal. He's a pretty bad man now and I don't know much about him. I just know he's definitely not supposed to be Jesus anymore. (Ruh roh.)

Lost Lesson 10: Don't Take a Beach Day for Granted.

When it's smoldering hot out and all you want to do is lay out, just be glad that you can leave. Somewhere out there, there could be a plane that crashed on a deserted island and they can't leave. These people may have to find away to just get by. And yeah, they may go a little stir crazy and paranoid which may or may not lead them to kill, but they have to do what they need to do to survive. Darwinism. Bitch.

Holy Missing Batman.

Loose Skin & Old Balls... Gross!

If you're like me, going to the gym can be somewhat of a drag. After a long day at the office, the abundance of caffeine that you had throughout the day is making you crash and burn. (Womp. Womp.) The last thing on your mind is working out. In most cases, you just want to have a drink at the bar and some chicken wings. No big. Let me tell you guys, that is not the answer. Your answer is at the gym. Trust me. Look passed the treadmills and the douchey personal trainers. Go beyond the weight room and the awkward men in spandex. Enter the locker room. In there and only in there, will you find the ultimate motivation: big sweaty naked old people.

Strange, I know, but true. Nothing makes me want to work out more than seeing a locker room full of awkward naked people because they are exactly what I don't want to look like au natural. It's awesome that old people work out, don't get me wrong. They have to get their blood pumping somehow since I'm not willing to accept the fact that they are, you know, "active" in the biblical sense. In fact, I say, more power to them. Live long and prosper or whatever it is you say to old people who are preventing dying at a reasonable age. I'm glad that they have such a positive body image and feel the need to flaunt it. I'm not glad that these awkward naked people feel the need to just hang out... well, awkwardly, while everyone is getting dressed. And if you noticed, these nudists are 40-years-old and beyond. Everyone younger than that is rushing in and out of the locker room and staring at the floor while these blue hairs are having tea. Saggy full frontal tea. (Yes, I hope you vomited in your mouth a little thinking about that because I did.)

I don't know what it's like in the men's locker room, but in the women's, there are big old naked ladies either doing their make up in all their glory or standing underneath the dryer to punish all the young people who have this image emblazoned on their retina for the rest of their lives. (Cringe.) These naked folk are always old and always big. There is a lot of floppiness and poor personal grooming. Things are saggy where they aren't supposed to be. And you realize that gravity is not... well, you realize how gravity can be an evil, evil bitch. 

If the sight of old naked people, literally, flopping around doesn't make you want to fix your own situation and prevent what is to come, I'm sure it will help you develop an eating disorder. You have my guarantee. (Thumbs up.)

If Morgan Freeman Can, So Can I.

Life. What a silly little topic, right? We've only got one and we have to make the most of it. But what do we do with our lives? What are we doing with our lives? What are we supposed to be doing with it? What do we want to do with our lives? What do we need to do? Do we live life on the edge or do we play it safe? I'm sure these are all questions you ask yourself when you're in your early mid-20's and trying to figure it all out. It's a little cliche, but I'm finding it to be very true.

I mean, don't let the face fool you. I'm 23-years-old and I'm not getting any younger. I have no idea where my life is headed and I'm not exactly sure where I want it to go. In the wake of Cha Cha Lee's birthday (What are you like 50 now?) and in honor of MTV's new, The Buried Life, which despite all of my unwillingness to tune in, I probably will since Glee and Gossip Girl will be on hiatus until April (WOOF!), I began to ponder my own life--where I am, who I am, and where I want to be. You are only young once so I thought, what the hell. I've compiled my very own bucket list where you will find everything that I want to do before I turn 30 (because let's be real, we all know 30 is synonymous with death).

1. Travel the world. There are so many places I want to see. I want to be able to say that I have been to all seven continents and that I have visited all 50 states at least. I would love to back pack through Europe while my hips and knees are still working. And of course, by "back pack through Europe" I mean, stay at snazzy hotels and go on fabulous shopping sprees and eat the finest cuisines. Duh. I guess, it doesn't even have to be Europe. It would just be amazing to go anywhere in the world.
   
   
2. Buy a pair of Christian Louboutin heels. I know that it is impractical to spend 6 months of rent on a pair of heels that I would rarely wear because I want to preserve them and keep them immaculate, but come on! I'd be fabulous.
   
   
3. Learn to swim. I think it's time. Standing in 4 ft of water in the pool gets annoying when the little kids start splashing around and you get the butt of a noodle in the face (okay, the noodle in the face may or may not be my fault when I try to stand and balance on it). For some reason I'm deathly afraid of deep body's of water. I have no idea why. It probably has something to do with almost drowning in the Atlantic Ocean when I was 12, but I don't know probably not. I just feel like I need to learn how to swim. It's probably that survivor instinct I have.
   
   
4. Join the next Real World cast. Yes, I know this show sucks and has sucked since the season after Las Vegas. Yes, Real World: Washington, D.C. is weak. But come on, guys! Remember when we were 13 and you watched The Real World religiously? If you were anything like me, I bet you thought, Yup, when I turn 18 I'm sending in my audition tape. Then you turn 18 and then you realize you're not old enough to drink and you would be that lame underaged roommate who couldn't party. Then you turn 21 and realize alcohol makes you crazy and lose your inhibitions; and you don't want your mom and dad to see you hook up with everything with a pulse in the hot tub. Blah. Blah. Blah. You end up embarrassing your family and giving your grandmother a heart attack because you win a wet t-shirt contest. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda. Time flies, and all of sudden, BAM! You're 23 and a half and only have a year to even be considered to be on the show AND you realize your audition tape would've been so much better if you taped it right after your skeez ex dumps you. But hey, pop quiz: Whaddaya got to lose? Answer: Nothing because you're pretty sure ass is on the internet anyway. To quote a great man named Ricky Bobby, "I've sent in my application to The Real World, so I'm puttin' a lotta eggs in that basket, the MTV basket."
   
   
5. Attend Comic-Con. Not Wizard World. Not Emerald City. I need to make a pilgrimage to the Comic-Con. It is an absolute must. We all know I'm kind of a nerd and this is my mecca. Don't judge.
   
   
6. Buy a condo. Slowly but surely, I'm going to make it happen. It's about time I buckle down and own some property.
   
   
7. Star in my own successful Disney Channel sitcom. I only have a good ten to fifteen years of looking like I'm 17, but I will only have the tolerance and patience to deal with my overwhelming tween fans for about seven. Anyways, if you haven't heard me plead my case as to why I should be the next Disney Channel star go ahead and click here.
   
   
8. Start a fight club.. or at least a crazy bar fight. If you know me, you know I love punching and kicking. I've really only been in one real fight and that was when I was like seven. Some kid whipped a baseball at me and I twisted his arm til he was begging for mercy--NBD. What was I supposed to do? He drew first blood! Anyways, I've been hankering to be part of a good old cat fight for a while now. Watching The Jersey Shore is only helping to reignite that inner fight I have in me (i.e. JWoww beating the crap out of that girl). I would love to feel raw human flesh being crushed by my fist from my mad right hook and seeing the large imprint of my massive cocktail ring on some broad's face. I like trouble, so why can't I cause a ruckus of my own... just once. Plus, sometimes you just need to choke a bitch. Am I right?
   
   
9. Get arrested. Well, at least cuffed. I think it would be cool to have a real mug shot. It would also be pretty sweet to be in a line up... and try to look especially suspcious. (Insert shifty eyes here.)
   
   
10. Go to Vegas and party with my girlfriends. Basically, I'm thinking The Hangover meets Sex in the City sans the weird looking red head. What's one crazy weekend of partying with free drinks (because let's face it, having a vagina is basically like having a Black Amex in the sense it's guaranteed VIP) in fabulous clothes and amazing weather with a group of great girls? I hope that we all get black out drunk and find a tiger in the bathroom because that would be AWESOME.
    
    
11. Get married. Womp. Womp. Don't get it twisted. I had to drop this bomb. Note: I definitely don't want to get married any time soon and absolutely not right this second, but yes, I do want to get married before I am thirty. Whatever. Sue me.
    
    
12. Become a YouTube sensation. I need a catchy tune, a clever rhyme and a universal vision. To be honest, I've been so close, but kind of blew it. This is definitely a work in progress, but, oh, it will happen. There are a few ideas a-brewing in this little noggin of mine. My time will come and I will be a YouTube queen. You will see. Trust me, I'm going to be as big as the Dramatic Gopher. Just you wait and see. I'm gonna make something out of myself, mom!
    
    
13. Go for a ride on an elephant. F horses. Everyone can ride a stinkin' horse. Big whoop. Going for a ride on an elephant would be sweet! Maybe it's because I just saw Aladdin recently, but wouldn't that be the grandest entrance ever? I'd be scared to fall off, but whatever, then I could say I broke my arm because I fell off an elephant.
    
    
14. Have a drink in every bar in the great city of Chicago. This has been a goal of mine since the ripe ol' age of 21. At first, I wanted to achieve this goal in a year from my 21st birthday, but soon found it was impossible especially since I would black out and stumble into places. Basically, I just lost track. I know that I have been to a handful already, but I will get there. It is only a matter of time. Don't mind me if you see me peeing in an alley or throwing up in front of your building.
    
    
15. Be an extra for one of the Christian Bale Batman movies. I mean, duh.
    
    
16. Reunite the best band in the entire world, NSYNC. I am very vocal about this cause. I've written letters and waited outside of Justin Timberlake's house and even watched him sleep. Whatever. We all know it is JT's stubbornness and solo success that this group is failing to reunite. We need to band together as fans and show them that the world would be a better place if, and only if, they got back together for at least one show. I mean, the Spice Girls did it.

I'm sure I will be adding to the list. So stay tuned, kiddies...

I Wanna Drink 'Til I Can't Feelings No Mo.

Binge drinking--what a joy it brings to the youth of the world. It makes the meek strong and the strong invincible. Your perception of the world is clearer after you drink a beer or two. Everyone is a little more friendly and not to mention, a little better looking. A sensation known as the "warm fuzzies" consumes you. The more you drink, the warmer and fuzzier this feeling gets. Scientists believe that when these warm fuzzies are at there peak, you achieve confidence. With this new found confidence, you find the self you want to be--your inner Tyler Durden per say. This leads to dancing, awkward sexual advances, new friends, and an overall good time.

When you're young and a child of the night, there is nothing that can go wrong. Sure you don't remember everything, but you don't need to. It is all in good fun and the next day, you can do it all over again. No hang over. No aches or pains. No post-drinking regrets. Maybe you will swing by McDonald's and grab an Egg McMuffin if you wake up still slightly intoxicated. All things considered, when you are young, you're a fully functioning part of society after a long night of binge drinking.

This all sounds familiar right? Most of us partied with the best of them and then you get old. Those nights of reckless endangerment to our livers have gotten the best of us. I mean, yeah, you still get the warm and fuzzies, but you definitely pay for it afterward. After a long night, let alone a full weekend of drinking, you're grouchy and achy and looking for the antacid. The sun becomes the Devil in the morning and burns through your comforter and pierces your retina forcing you to wake up and feel the shame of old age. Every part of you is sore and you look like you death, but still better than Kristen Stewart because she's just haggard.

Oh, and remember how awful it was the first few times when you got drunk because you didn't know better so you always drank too much, and vomited everything that you ate that day, but then it stops because you realize how much you can drink without getting sick? Yeah, after a while, you start to drink less and less because you have more responsibilities for being an adult. Apparently, being a grown up means you can't always have fun when you want to. (The word, adult, is acutually Finnish for boring responsible person who goes to bed early, I think, but don't quote me on that.) Anyways, you forget that you can only imbibe so much alcohol and you go overboard. Thus, your body regresses to the stages of your freshman year of college but to the infinity power, which basically means instead of throwing up what you had that day for a couple hours, you turn into The Exorcist and upchuck everything you had in the past month. Not cute.

I guess, there is a set period of time in your life where your able to party hardy every night of the week and then function normally the next morning, but there is no warning to when that time ends. So, I'm telling you as my peers, colleagues, and friends, heed my warning. Alcoholic beverages are all fun and games for the evening, but apparently, you feel like death the next day.

Well done, Alcohol. You may have won this battle, but consider this war. I've only learned my lesson... this time. (Insert shifty eyes here.)

(Note: If you would like to imagine what I sound like after this weekends festivities, please re-read the blog as Peter Brady going through puberty.)

Temporary Insanity, Curable By Marriage?

Remember when cooties were arguably the most devastating and traumatic epidemic plaguing our generation? We had to get an imaginary shot at least once a day so that we remained immune to the cooties. Girls would avoid boys like the plague and vice-versa because god forbid any sort of physical contact. Hell, some of us would even go so far as to not even touch books or pencils that the opposite sex came into contact with. The lot of us survived fourth and fifth grade because of vast precautions we took. This was just the way the world worked then.

Sixth grade happens and any talk about cooties was so passe. And yes, I was the a-hole who still brought up cooties the first day of junior high and felt like a complete tool because it turned out it was cool to like boys by then. Whatever. If cooties was still a predominant thing in schools, kids wouldn't be on Maury getting paternity tests. Babies wouldn't be having babies.

All my life, I've been a little below the curve when it came to boy/girl relations. Don't get me wrong, I had crushes growing up; I was just too scared to do anything about it and too concerned about cooties... until I was about 14. (Also, it was partially because I was a late bloomer. So what? You want to fight about it?) I was the last of my friends to get my first real kiss because French kissing freaked me out. And to be honest, I'm still definitely one of the most prude when it comes to talking about the hibbidy dibbidy. (Yes, I just said hibbidy dibbidy because I'm that immature.) But let's be real for a second, is it just me or did everyone just wake up and decide to get married?

There is nothing wrong with getting married. I couldn't be more happy for anyone who is betrothed (i.e. JD), but you go on the Facebook and every other status update is about someone getting married. Someone from your graduating class adds you as a friend, but you don't recognize the name, why? Oh, it's because they're married. Your friends are going from being "In a Relationship" to "Engaged". What's this? Mary McPlainface just added new photos... of her huge ass engagement ring that is comparable in size to the former planet, Pluto! What the fudge is going on here?

A few of the girls and I just went to a wedding expo... mainly for the free booze since none of us had any intention of getting married any time soon. Walking down the street, you would never look twice at these girls, but man, the rings on their fingers were absolutely ridiculous. Makes you wonder what your not doing right, don't it? Now, I don't roll with plain girls. We're all pretty secure with ourselves and boys dig us, but none of us had that bling. I think we were secretly an itty, bitty, teeny, tiny bit depressed (especially after seeing the woofers there). But thanks to Socratic reasoning and Beyonce, I'm starting to wonder, does no one like it? Because if they did, they would've put on ring on it, right? Uh uh oh. To add insult to injury, we all came to drink and be merry, but we walked out with ring bearer pillows! (And a crazy craving for raspberry cream truffles.)

Am I missing something? Is there something in the water that I'm immune to? I mean, seriously, WTF? And did you notice all the wedding themed quizzes and advertisements on the FB that we're bombarded with? I did. (So what if I checked to see what age I'd get married or what kind of dress I'd have? I was curious. Sue me. This just in-I'm a girl and I have those inclinations. But I definitely don't think I'd act on them... just yet.) You'd think that with the success rates of marriage being 50-50, less people would be inclined to get married, but no. Looks like people get really into this little thing we call love. Yuck.

Soon enough, we'll start to notice that less and less people will want to come out to the bars on the weekend and party because they have brunch with the in-laws in the morning. They will start hanging out with other married people and talk about long term goals and college funds because they want to bust out a couple of babies. Then the lot of them will move to the suburbs, which I don't get because if I had kids, I'd want snotty little city kids like in Gossip Girl. Before you know it, we'll be getting cards with their kids on it wishing us a happy holiday. All of a sudden, tripping on acid and going to raves becomes less appealing to them because they have responsibilities. Lameskis.

I guess we all get to that age where we decide to grow up, but come on... who knew it would be so soon? I feel like cooties were our biggest issue just yesterday and now, it's what place setting goes with this flower arrangement. Woof.

You Know You Love Her. XOXO.

What's the difference between gossip and scandal? So glad you asked... Anyone can commit a minor indiscretion and generate a day's worth of buzz. But in order to birth a true scandal, it requires the right person to be in the wrong place. Take one It Girl on a pedestal. Add a crowd eager to see her fall. And give them a means to knock her down.

She said this. No, she said this. Well, I heard this. Blah. Blah. Blah. There comes a point in every young ladies life where they are reduced to talking about other people behind their back. We call know it's wrong, but its just so damn fun. We thought it would end in high school, but beware, Upper Eastsiders, we are all a victim of gossip at every point in our lives. Come tomorrow, September 14th, our one and only source into scandalous lives is back. Where would we be today without Gossip Girl? (ANSWER: Lost without a void that would never ever properly be filled.)

Let's face it--GIRLS SUCK. Sorry to say it, but it's true. On behalf of my kind, I sincerely apologize. We're mean, catty, sassy, bitchy, back stabbing, manipulative and talk about you behind your back. Every girl has a little bit of Blair Waldorf or Serena van der Woodsen in her. If they don't, then they suck... at life... because they are boring... and no one likes them. Whatever. (Case in point, right?) Between the two, you have B telling us how to look and act (i.e. Louis V peep toes---always right.) and there is S showing us how badly we want to be in the spotlight with her photos always on Page 6. Despite the Queen Bee status of my personal hero, Blair, and the "It"Girl je ne sais quoi possessed by Serena, there is no one more intriguing than G.G. herself.

As girls especially, we LOVE a good gossip fest. That's why we're so into the celeb tabloids and being mean to other girls. (Don't lie. I know you're guilty of it too.) I mean, let's be real, it's totally fun to gossip and talk about people behind their backs with your girlfriends, but taking the information that you have and sending e-blasts to everyone's phone? That's just taking it to another level of awesome. She has the power and I dig the power. People fear her. And there's nothing more powerful than fear. (Insert evil laugh here.)

I've took the liberty of contriving a list of reasons of why we know we love her.

1. Gossip Girl is a mystery and everyone loves a good mystery. No one knows and when you try to find her, she will just make you look like an ass (i.e. the season finale of season 2). She is like an anonymous Gretchen Weiners because she knows anything and everything about everyone. I don't know for sure, but I bet she has big hair and that is the reason why her hair is so big.
2. Remember when they all the grown ups told us that we would stop caring about what we look like and what/who we do on Friday nights? Yeah? Gossip Girl basically proves them wrong. Everyone cares. If you look like crap and/or gained 10 lbs, you're going to be put on blast. When you go home with that gross excuse for a human being that you're to regret in the morning, everyone will make fun of you. But on the other hand, if you look hot and bag Chuck Bass, more power to you. However, no matter how hot they are, do not pay for someone's company on a lonely night (cough NATE ARCHIBALD cough cough). Always look print ready. At the very least, shower... unlike some people. And don't be a slut. The best hookups are free of morning breath and awkward conversation.
   
3. G.G. has minions. What I wouldn't do for minions to do my bidding!? She can make you do whatever she wants since she owns you pretty much. She doesn't even have to go out looking for scandal since people are constantly emailing her and telling her what's up.
4. It's far safer to be feared than loved... and even though we love her, we sure as hell don't want to be on her bad side. Even though we cannot see her, she can crush us because her influence is just that great. (See reason #3.)
   
5. Who doesn't love that Gossip Girl ruins people's lives? Since, I'm mildly evil and want to ruin people's lives, I think that's so cool. She can make everyone love or hate you depending on how she wants to spin it. That's pretty damn sweet. Her e-blasts are just press releases about people's lives and I totally dig that.
6. Every single blast she sends is some sort of witty riddle. She says things like, "Cheer up Little J, the sun will come out tomorrow... even though your boyfriend did today." AND, "Sorry Lonely Boy. Don't say we didn't try to warn you. But if Queen S would do this to D, are any of us safe? Bow down or bow out." You're always making us think, G.G, and laugh at the expense of other people.
7. Her arrogance makes you feel like you feel kind of stupid when you don't get Gossip Girl's witty pop culture references, but when you do you kind of feel good about yourself like a dog who did a trick correctly. She give you a little bit of information at a time and you always want more. She's basically a crack dealer.
   
8. She may be all knowing and a major bitch, but Gossip Girl is kind of a nerd. With all these blasts to your phone. She is a pioneer when it comes to combining blogging with text and picture messages into an HTML format that goes straight to your phone in a non-email way. F! I don't even know how to do that now and pretty sure only the tech savvy nerds of nerds knew how to do that in 2007. I for one applaud her on behalf of the nerds.
   
9. Morgan Freeman, James Earl Jones, Patrick Stewart, Gossip Girl? Hell yes!! Everybody loves a good narration and G.G. is the voice of our generation.
10. If Gossip Girl were real, she would probably be president. :) No explanation needed.

Ahh yes. Power, influence, wit, unnecessary bitchiness... Gossip Girl is everything that I want to be when I grow up.