Maybe I Should Give the Hat Back.

I find it really interesting that as Mr. Pazienza takes his "self-imposed sabbatical" over at DXM, I find myself in a similar predicament. It's not the same reason- I understand his general exhaustion after the election- mine is just a little more personal (and simple- I won't be around a computer for awhile). I think I need to get my priorities straightened out and start figuring out what I want to do when I grow up. I turn 26 on the 24th and I'm just kind of confused right now.

I'll probably be back in a little while- maybe a new name and look for AISYHT.

In the meantime please go to any of the sites listed to the right or check out my friend, Alisha, who is a Navy wife.

http://navywife8888.blogspot.com/

She's funny and I think you guys will like her. (We used to work at Temps X together!)

TTYL! I'll come back with stories, I promise.

Coping with breaking up.

Things that you must absolutely not do when being dumped (and I should know):

1. Do not call the dumper. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE CALL THIS PERSON. Nothing you say, no amount of bargaining you do, and no amount of hot sex you promise them will make them want you again. And in the mean time, you lower your self worth. At this time, 2:40 PM EST, mine is worth less than the Somalian shilling (yes, I had to look that up).

2. Do not watch "Say Anything" over and over again.  Lloyd Dobbler does NOT exist.  And even if he did, you'd probably walk all over him and take him for granted anyway.  So just get over it.

3. If you have a choice, do not listen to music that reminds you of this person.  DMB for Empty Soul, TI and Lil Wayne for John.  Three great artists that I happen to like- all ruined because I need to be more selective when it comes to those I "lay down with."

4. Do not eat.  Trust me.  I mean, eat, but really - don't over do it.  This is not a bulimia thing or an anorexic thing or a body image thing.  Well maybe a body image thing.  It's perfectly natural to want to stuff your face after you break up or your heart's been smashed into a million unusable pieces.  Ice cream, Hershey's chocolate, cheeseburgers (it's an addiction and I'm working on it).  Just don't do it.  You'll feel like a heifer afterwards and no one there to tell you you aren't fat.  Is this shallow?  I think this is shallow.  But feeling bloated and miserable and heartbroken just really sucks.  So don't eat... too much.  Or at least have a banana instead.

5. Do not go out and spend money like it is going out of style (read: no shopping).  Especially in this economy.  I have to say, my first instinct after John was to go buy a new Coach purse.  I'm sure I'm not the only one who has ever felt this way.  I wanted a "See, I'm fine on my own and will buy this to show you that" symbol of my independence.  First of all, $250 is NEVER ok to spend on a purse and second of all, no that's it.  Don't make yourself go broke to one up that person.

DO: go out and have safe unattached sex.  Is that bad that I'm recommending this?  Probably.  Physically, you need to stop missing that person that just said you weren't good enough for them.  If you aren't into random sex- at least get out there and flirt.  Get back on the horse!  Fuck the loser.  If you let it get to you, you will never recover and the next guy you date will suffer for it.  

DO: tell yourself that you are an awesome person.  It sounds lame.  Trust me, I know it sounds really stupid and futile to do this.  However, if you say it and start believing it to be true- then it really doesn't matter what happens.  It doesn't matter who dumped who.  You have to be ok with you.

DO: watch movies like "Point Break," "Shaun of the Dead," "Die Hards 1, 2, 3...and the other one."  (Or whatever floats your boat in that arena.)  Watch horror movies, action movies, thriller movies.  Especially ones were people get shot up in the most elaborately staged ways- "Face/Off" and other John Woo movies are great for this.  Stupid explosions with little talk of love and feelings.  And, also, go see movies that you wouldn't go see otherwise- like "Rocky Horror" or "The Big Lebowski" at a local cinema with all those weirdos! (Sorry, I love those weirdos, but they are definitely weird.) 

DO: take up a hobby.  I'm starting ballroom dancing tonight.  Seriously!  So, join a gun club or take karate or take a nude drawing class (although, I'm warning you- those models aren't nearly as good looking as your would like them to be).  Keep busy.  Like I said before, Fuck the loser.  You are an awesome person.  You might not want to take it to the extremes of jumping out of a plane (three weeks!), but just do something you always wanted to do but put off.

There ya go, another advice column for someone who has no license to dole out advice.  Sometimes it just helps to manifest the thoughts into something productive.

Amusement.

Ron Winter Drums

Quite possibly the best thing ever. (BWE.tv)

I've already made two tracks that are ten times better than anything Kanye has put out this year.  I personally like the George Michael "UGH!" paired with the David Bowie "Let's Dance" thing.  And all the day-glo.  This is better than anti-depressants.  Kalyn is already plotting my death.

Classics in Neuroses.

So, I was driving home last night in my "new" busted Cutlass Cierra (blogging does not make you rich). The thing has pep for a car that is fifteen years old. Before I knew it I was gliding up and down and around the back roads of Geauga County, Ohio and enjoying the fact that the sun sets later and later every day.

(So yeah, I have a nasty habit of joyriding. I'm a huge fan of "Left, Right, Straight." My car is a gas guzzler. I am probably the number one cause of global warming since I like to drive around aimlessly- I did when gas was at $4/gallon too.)

Back to last night. Driving along, listening to local pop radio and then... T.I. comes waltzing into my life again. I don't have a problem with T.I. and I hope he doesn't end up going to jail for the rest of his life on whatever bogus weapons charge they are using to make an example of him. He didn't beat his girlfriend (that we know of) and he didn't shoot anyone (that we know of).

And another backtrack: When T.I. first got big it was with "What You Know" back in 06. I had transferred from Miami of Ohio (aka Lilly White University) and was going to school at Kent State. I had met a boy the previous fall while visiting one of my best friends, it was her brother. It was the biggest thing to have happened to me up to that point. He would become my first love and, for while, the most important person in my life other than family. I'm sure you see where this is going- that boy was the infamous John, of stolen hat fame. T.I. and his string of inescapable hits off of King became the soundtrack to our summer.

Last October, the last time John and I saw each other and the brief 2 hours where we both reconsidered starting up again, it was "Whatever You Like" playing on the Honda stereo as we both looked at each other and wondered where to go next and if it would be together. It sounds really melodramatic and it probably was a scene worthy of the OC, but I will always consider this the turning point between us. Before I got out of the car he hugged me- holding on like he would never see me again. I couldn't understand why.

As you may have guessed, hearing T.I. on the radio is pretty tough for me.

So, there I was in the Cutlass and 96.5 starts up with the opening to "Whatever You Like." And I can't help but go back to that day in the car. "Do you love him?" he asked me (regarding PVille). "I think I could," I said. "Or at least owe it to myself to try." We rode around Mentor and Willoughby and Eastlake, where he's from. Half-joking, I suggested we go to the beach- the scene of one of our first hookups. We started out in that direction before deciding to turn back. It was a literal road that would only lead to more heartbreak. "Do you love her?" I asked about FCOG. He shrugged. It was the calm before the storm, to borrow a cliche.

Of course now, in my rusty Oldsmobile, in March of 09, I am fleeing back to my house. Frantic to get home. Frantic to talk to him. Tears streaming down my face, I run through a stop sign. I just needed to say something- anything- just hear his voice again. I forgot about everything that had happened and all the fights. It's an incessant need- an urge- a craving just to know that I'm still in his universe. A thought in the back of his head. I ran into my house and dug my cell out of my purse.

I looked at the number. (It's his house number.) Took a deep breath. Pressed send. No one was there.

And then, I realized the insanity of what I was doing. Why was I calling him? What good would this bring, if any?  At the best it would be a casual conversation, peppered in small talk.  At the worst- and heartbreakingly so- he would tell me to "Fucking go to Hell." So, of course, I immediately texted my sponsor.

ME: Having a meltdown here... Just called John's house. WTF is wrong with me?

ALANNA (were you expecting someone else?): WHY did you call his house?

ME: Idk. Idk. Idk. (Sorry, but that is my favorite and most used text lingo.)  No one was home. I was driving home and I heard TI. Damn TI. And I started missing him and the next thing I knew I was home and dialing the number for his house...

ALANNA: You need to break your unhealthy relationship habit. C-U-T-O-F-F. CUT OFF. Go ahead and miss him but contacting him will only result in heartache.

ME: I know... I don't know why I did it. It was like an alcoholic not realizing they are actually drinking a beer...

So, yes. I freaked out. And yes, I still think about John. All.the.time. I hope this gives you people out there an insight either to just how messed up I am or to how bad breakups and their resonance really are.  My sister says that I'm still in the "1/3 Zone"- a rule that says you can lament about someone for 1/3 of the time you were with them.  I always thought it was the "1/2 Rule"- guess even that downsized.  So I guess that means I can be like this until next September/October.  I don't want to be like this until October.  I hate going for weeks thinking I'm ok and then, because some T.I. song comes on, I go into withdrawal.

UGGHHHHH.

(Although it's funny I have everybody and their brother suggesting setups for me.  I really just think I need to be alone and get through this without hurting anyone else.)

Dance Party!

Back in college, we decided to go prude. Yes, that kind of prude. It was a decision made after a lot of drinks and the realization that maybe we were all just big sluts. I don't recall the details, just that in the end none of us really adhered to the Prude Movement of 04. So lately, after E. Soul and all, I'm thinking it's time to make a Prude Tour comeback.

So here's a song to listen to while you ponder that.



"So come on baby, why don't you show some class? Why you wanna move so fast?"

Sing it, Jermaine.

You know what's really sad about this song? He died of complications caused by AIDS (liver cancer, I believe).

Ode to the chemically imbalanced.

So, I suppose I should explain myself a little more rather than post a cryptic tattoo shot with my death wish to jump out of an airplane (which, by the way, is not related to any drama- I just have always wanted to do it). PVille (now Empty Soul) and I never really officially went our separate ways. Although, looking back, that should have been the first thing I did when he came back. Actually, the first thing I should have done was tell him to go fuck himself when I first met him. Hindsight is always 20/20.

In an effort to report this issue as fair and balanced as I can, I'm just going to give you the straight facts. Followed by commentary. I admit, this post may go a little into Fox News territory when it comes to reporting the truth. Like always, bear with me.

Empty Soul's excuse was that he was not ready for a relationship. That it wasn't me, it was him. I said I would wait until he was because, stupid stupid hormonal girl that I am, I actually just thought that meant "our timing isn't right now, but maybe in a month or two."

Guys who are reading this, I understand what this all was. This was all guy talk for "I don't like you." Which I had my guesses about before, and when I asked him for a straight answer- just to tell me straight out so I could go on with my life, he said that it "wasn't the case." Ok, was I wrong to ask flat out what our status was? And why couldn't he just say "It's not working with you, I don't really have any feelings for you at all, go about your life." Why, knowing that I have strong strong feelings for him, would he string me along? Help, please?

A couple of weeks ago, I had asked if he had any spare time in his busy schedule of working a crap job and being with his son that we could possibly go out. He said he'd try. I trusted him when he said he was busy and backed off.

So................. Friday night he comes right out and tells me he has a date. With someone else. Who is not me. Because, in all of his busy busy time, he could not find a few minutes to say "I don't think we should see each other because I don't like you." (I'm not made of glass, I would have rather he told me that, it wasn't like I was going to shatter). But instead he found enough time to take someone else out. Which really, I don't care. (Although, I flipped out on Friday, but that was because this all hit me like a tidal wave). But why, why when I ask you if you like me or not, why when I just want the truth, can you guys not give it? Girls are stronger than you all give us credit for. Straightforward-ness gets you a lot.

So those are the facts of the situation. And yes, I had a really really really low point in calling him a million times and begging him to come over because I was distraught. It was pathetic and horrible and I cringe to think that I went that craz-o. I didn't get any sleep, I still haven't eaten that much. I made myself physically ill. The next day, instead of talking to me and explaining, he basically texted me with "Do not ever contact me again." Also with "You are crazy, you have an acidic tongue and violent moodswings."

I may have a sharp tongue, but most people wouldn't categorize it as acidic. Also, I may be crazy- but that is the pot calling the kettle not only black, but round and useful for boiling water. I have an email that supports this fact.

So, that's where we are. I would feel bad for the millions of calls and hurtful things I said if he had shown any sympathetic bone in his body (thereby attributing the new moniker Empty Soul- thank you, Kalyn). Since he didn't, I see now why he is where he is in his life and I am where I am in mine. IF that makes any sense at all. A lesser person would post the emails that he wrote and remind everyone of the things he used to say... but I'm going to salvage any dignity I have left and let it go.

After watching Rush Limbaugh's ignorant and trite speech at the CPAC convention this weekend, I realized an important life lesson: playing their game isn't worth it.

I know that I overreacted. I know I overreact for a lot of things. I know that I probably could use a Xanax every once in awhile and the things I say are pretty awful, things that I don't really mean after a day. If I could go back and change Friday, I would have let this all go then. However, like my mom says, God never throws us anything we can't handle. Maybe this was just what I needed to find the strength to get up and say "fuck off."

Crazy.

So, this weekend was crazy. Emotionally and physically. The result is the picture above- a 3 inch tattoo of a dove on my forearm to remind me what a tough, strong person I am (I know, it's lame. But it's better than a butterfly).

Also, I'm jumping out of a plane for my birthday. :)

And if any of you are wondering, yes it (the drama) had to do with PVille guy- now renamed Empty Soul thanks to Kalyn. His name will never be mentioned again on here. My heart has been ripped out for the last time.... fucker.

Dream a Dream (and what you'll see will be).

HOLY CRAP.  Seriously, this no less than the third time "The Neverending Story" has come into my life this week. I cannot explain the ire I have after reading this.  Like "WHY THE FUCK DOES HOLLYWOOD RUIN EVERYTHING I GREW UP WITH" mad.  The only only only way this could possibly work is if the guy who did "Hellboy" gets all his "Pan's Labyrinth" weirdos on it.  Otherwise, just don't do it.  Seriously, what is with this town's infatuation with resurrecting things? There is dignity in death!  I realize dignity is one thing Hollywood doesn't really value, but COME ON!  Leave it alone.

What made this movie so great was the fact that it is so weird.  Weirdness, mind you, that cannot be replicated by a big studio budget of today.  I just have this awful feeling that it will be sanitized and starring someone like Drake Bell as Atreyu.  

So, that's the only time I'm going to show my true dork colors this week.

Read this article and get angry.

On a lighter note, Ang Lee is going to direct "Life of Pi," my favorite book ever.  So when I get really pissed off about the previous atrocity, I will think of this to calm me down.

I sell (sold) flesh.

I used to be a pimp. Kind of. I know right now you're asking yourself "Oh Jesus, how is she going to explain this one in a cute way and pull it together with a lesson she learned?" Bear with me.

Yes, I used to be a pimp. Well first I was an assistant, then I was promoted. I worked for one of the top local staffing agencies in the Cleve. Seven offices, 200 employees on staff, and thousands of temporary workers in our database. I used to like to say that everyone in Northeast Ohio had their profile in our computers at one point in our 20 year history. It was true too, because I used to look up old boyfriends and classmates, usually finding them.

The way it worked was the agency (we'll call it Temps X) would put out generic ads in the paper. Something to the tune of "Must be fluent in Spanish and English, conversational, read, write. Position located in Bainbridge. Must be comfortable with MS Word and Excel. 20-24K to start on a permanent basis, depending on exp. Full Benefit Package! Great foot-in-the-door opportunity!"  This is standard practice in the staffing industry.  Generic ads are posted to sound like actual jobs (and at one time, usually were) with the aim to rope in applicants.  

Ok, so great.  Every Monday (after Sunday ads were printed), I would get an influx of calls.  "What about that job in Bainbridge?"  My training instructed me to bring these people in for our screening process with the idea that there was a job like this in store for them at the other end.  Of course, that "job" stood at the other end of 3 hours of skills testing and paperwork and there was little to no guarantee that they would be awarded that position.  Fine print, fine print.

At first, I really enjoyed my job.  I got to find people jobs.  The economy was struggling but not collapsing just yet.  (We did get a lot of mortgage brokers, though.) There were still people hiring.  I felt like maybe I was doing something good and earning good money on the side as well.  It wasn't great money, but for a 23 year old it was ok.  Recruiters and reps earned commission off of how many hours a temp worked- so the bigger the job (temp to perm), the higher the payout.  It gets a little more complicated than that, but that's the gist. 

My coworkers were great (kind of- more on that later) and a camaraderie was developed.  We were rewarded with bonuses, trips to Put-In-Bay, contests with trips to the Bahamas, and a Christmas gala at the end of the year in which we rode to a ballroom in limos provided by the company.  It was lavish and extravagant... and a big waste of money the company didn't really have.  Sound familiar?  And the best part was at the end of the day, I had drinking buddies to go out with.  Of course, this only led to problems- something that often happens when you mix men, women, alcohol, and a sophomoric atmosphere.  There was gossip everywhere (the Trainer who had a illegitimate kid with the president or who slept with who at last year's XMas party).  It was High School II.  It was unprofessional and crazy.  It was sales.

And that was a problem.  When you are selling something like refrigerators, you know the fridge will do its job and keep things cold.  You know that if it breaks, you can send someone to fix it.  You know that the delivery man will eventually get there and you know that it won't get sick or have babies or steal from you.  You can't really say the same thing about people.  And when it came to what I had to do, I was pretty much selling people.  To say you needed a thick skin was an understatement.

When I first got to Temps X, I met two people right off the bat.  The first was a coworker who I would have a total misguided fling with (misguided seems to be my word of the week) and the other was Alison.  Rude, brash, loud.  Think of other words like that and you've got where I'm going with this.  On my very first day (a working interview, really) I heard her get into squabbles on the phone with temps, with her supervisor (The Dragon Lady), with other offices.  I should have run from this (and if I had a time-traveling  DeLorean, I would), but I was oddly interested in this position.  It seemed challenging and adventurous.  And, as it turns out, it was.  If you could put your feelings for humanity in a lockbox and bury it somewhere far, far away.

Hiring people is easy.  Firing people because their car won't start or telling someone they lacked "front desk appearance" (ie, cornrows) and therefore you would not hire them was not.  Having to fetter out what someone's intentions were- were they taking this temp job to screw you later?  Were they planning on starting a family and would therefore be needing maternity leave?  If they didn't work those hours, you didn't get paid.  You found yourself thinking that the whole world was out to screw you over.  It was a very delicate dance to not violate practices set out by the Equal Employment Opportunities Commission or the Equal Rights Act or FMLA or a whole host of other Employment laws that no one there was really educated on, but you had to find out if this person was physically and mentally prepared to work all of the days you promised your client.

It didn't help that my GM, Alison's supervisor, and overall scary witch, The Dragon Lady, was a literal incarnation of the Devil.  In her book, there were NO EXCUSES.  If you were sick, you came to work.  If you had a baby, better find someone to take it because you were coming to work.  If you were in a car wreck, you were coming to work (there's a longer story to this too, but off point).  Basically, "We need your arm to pick up the phone and your head so you can talk.  Anything else is expendable."  If your temp couldn't get to their job, it was your fault.  Red sheet 'em (to be put on a somewhat illegal blacklist known as the "Do Not Use")!  You would get yelled at later.  And all the bonuses and contests and parties in the world were not worth feeling like you were two inches tall.

After my promotion to pimp, I got yelled at a lot.  Maybe I had a Grinch-like moment where my hear grew back, maybe my conscience just resurfaced.  All of a sudden I just felt bad for people- for our temps.  Things were spiraling out of control.  I was losing sleep at night.  I couldn't handle firing people, I couldn't handle yelling at people on the phone.  I told a coworker that I was making myself ill, that I didn't need the trouble. The Dragon Lady had pulled me into her office more than once.  Then one morning, I got a call to meet her in the break room. And, a week after I turned 25, I was let go.  The worst thing about it was, after months of yelling at me and stressing me out- she still made me feel like I did something wrong.

Of course, she wasn't done yet.  Because when you piss of The Dragon Lady and betray Temps X, they go out for blood.  She appealed my unemployment- basically making it impossible for me to collect any money at all and stating I was "Incompetent and unable to perform the duties necessary."  AKA, I wasn't willing to sell my soul.  Don't worry, I was a tough broad even back then.  There was a strongly worded letter and a couple other things I may or may not have done that settled the score.  Again, a story for a later date.

The relevance of the whole story is this: today I was informed that Temps X has closed my former office in addition to three they closed in December.  The former staffing giant is now down to three offices.  No one is hiring in the Rust Belt and more and more people need jobs.  When you have more supply than demand, something's gotta give.  There are a lot of good people who worked there, people I still like to call my friends.  With a potential buyout to another agency in the works, these people will be screwed while the president and his family profit.  It's what's going on everywhere right now- this one is just hitting closest to home.

So yeah.  Not as exciting as a CNN news producer or a Mormon web designer who used to date celebs, but it provided me with quite the eye opening experience and life lessons I will take with me through life.  Lessons like: treat others as you would want to be treated, look out for yourself first and others later, and don't trust anyone at work.  Ever.  Also, be thankful for what you have and maybe everything does happen for a reason.  I love my job now and I'm not getting laid off.  And I get to write this thing everyday!!  

Do I miss my life as a pimp?  Not in the least.  Was it fun?  While it lasted.  Am I happier now?  You bet.

Scary headline of the day.

I wish Yahoo!News could have fudged this a little and said, oh I don't know, "over 650 people sickened" or "nearly 700 people sickened" instead of threats of the coming Apocalypse. Just a thought.

I knew this wouldn't be good!

Yeah, so we are officially on hour 16 of this cleanse.

And I would just like to come up with a list of things that don't suck nearly as much as both the raging irritability and hunger pangs I feel right now. Please note the sarcasm as it is listed below:

1. Definistration- It just doesn't look fun.
2. Getting your hair cut into what you think is a really cute, stylish bob- and then seeing your ex boyfriend with his new girlfriend that has locks and locks of gorgeous hair worthy of a shampoo commercial.
3. Spraining your neck while having jack rabbit sex (I'm looking at you, Carrie Bradshaw).
4. A traffic jam... when you're already late. (All apologies to Alanis. Especially since your old man is now with some new hussy.)
5. Flipping through the stations, seeing your favorite movie ever is on- the one you haven't seen in years, realizing it is on Telemundo.
6. Mosquitoes.
7. Work-related things that I cannot list here for fear of becoming unemployed during the worst economy since the Great Depression.
8. Young Republicans.
9. All of the Oscar nominated films this year that weren't also nominated in Sci-Tech categories. (Sorry, but this year I think the big action movies kicked the asses of pretentious award-bait movies in terms of relevance, entertainment, and everything else.)
10. My biweekly incapacitating migraine headache.

Food for thought.

And fuck you, Gwyneth Paltrow, and your cleanses.

Well if Beyonce did it, it must be safe!

SO! I had the brilliant idea yesterday that I was going to try the Master Cleanse diet. Made famous by Beyonce, the Master Cleanse is a quick way to drop about 20 lbs and clean all of the toxins out of your body. Yes, I know that most of the weight will be water weight and quickly packed back on... but I figured I could try it and at least make you guys all laugh along the way. I will post pictures (as soon as I find my USB thingy for the camera) and keep you updated on my status. If a week goes by and you haven't heard from me, it is because this killed me.

I'm serious.

No, not really. I don't think you can die from lemons, cayenne pepper, and maple syrup but I will be cranky. So if by Friday I'm posting a blog in all caps and calling for a fatwa on everyone at Krispy Kreme, please don't hold it against me.

Betcha thought I would do an Oscar post...

... but you were wrong (I hated the Oscars last night and fell asleep during them for the first time ever- but I did try to make a real time blog, I just got bored). Anyway, I will have my grandparents lovable and hilarious comments on the occasion later in the week. If you really need Oscar, go to Pajiba or Deus Ex Malcontent. Those are funny.

Instead, with 1 month to go until the dreaded 2-6, I would like to post random birthday cakes that amuse me.

(Debbie Does Cakes)

Aaaaaaand that's about it.

(I would like to have it brought out to me by a guy in a Doc Brown costume. Or, you know, Christoper Lloyd since he's not doing too much these days.)

I'll tell you where you can put your "issues"...

As I have hinted in the past few previous posts, this weekend was another rough one for me. Yes, I got drunk (not as drunk as I was in Boston) and yes I had a great time (still not as good as Boston, as it did not involve a cabbie affectionately named Bootleg). And then something weird happen: the girl I was out with, the one I actually really like because she was older and therefore supposedly more mature, decided that everything that I was doing was morally reprehensible.

Morally. Reprehensible. Followed by ??????

Keep in mind, this is a woman that had her crazy days in her twenties as well.

Among such lovely quotes as "I don't respect you for using guys to get your free drinks" (I spent lots of money on buying everybody else free drinks but the one or two I got for free was what really pushed her over the edge) and... well actually I'm just going to copy and paste in this situation:

"I have no respect for someone who does not respect themselves. If you want to pound drinks and flirt...your prerogative. There is a huge maturity difference between 25 and 35. And frankly, you flirting with my EX...is completely uncalled for and I won't put up with it from you or anyone in my presence. If you need a guy's attention to make you feel good...by all means...get your 'therapy'. Just know it is in the end unhealthy, gives you a bad reputation, and loses friends."

I know, I know. I'm a horrible person for posting this. Just like I'm a horrible person for posting John's MySpace message and PVille Guy's emails. I just think this is funny.

The biggest reason is that (and I know that most of you out there don't know me) this could not be further from the truth. I had quite a charmed life, that I won't deny, but I had to grow up really quickly. "Immature"*** is not a word I would think to describe myself, but more importantly it isn't a word that most of my family (who watched me go through a lot of heartache and suffering with my mother and her long list of problems) would consider calling me either. About my "bad reputation," bad rep with who? I have like four friends out in here. Well, probably three now after this debacle. So, I'm not too too worried about having rumors flying around about things I didn't or did or was thinking about doing. As for "threrapy," I have my therapy: THIS BLOG.

I don't like to blame the way things happened to me for the way things are. As I've survived two major heartbreaks (John and Pville) in a row, I learned that using your past to justify your present doesn't get you anywhere. So I'm not going to go into what "I've been through" to convey the message that as far as level-headed 25 year olds go, I'm pretty good.

(Also, this excerpt makes me sound like the town floozy. I've slept with a small, small selection of men in the past few years and I drink only when I'm out with friends. I can pretty much always get my ass home and up out of bed the next morning so I'm not planning on joining The Program anytime soon- even though I think it is a wonderful, wonderful thing that saved my mom's life.)

In case you were wondering, I did manage to fire a few rounds back at her. Don't worry, it's not Alanna and this person will not be receiving her own tag much less a knick-name on this blog.

***VERY IMPORTANT: I realize that this blog was devised on the premise that I'm not the bigger person and I do childish things... but this actually made me realize how crazy I was acting before with John. I don't take any of it back, because it still makes me laugh, but I will think twice about how I act towards him in the future. It's almost like there's a big mirror in front of me and I'm like "OOOOOH, that's FUUUUUGLY." Except on the inside. So more like an x-ray. Of emotional health. I'm confusing myself now. Long story short, if it makes me a hypocrite or not, this lady's off her rocker.

UPDATE: I have been threatened with a restraining order. So... not quite sure how that's gonna work.

Amazing.

So I got to work horribly early this morning and in my half-awake/"why-the-fuck-am-i-here-right-now" state, I came across this quote on Alex Blagg's blog. (Alex, as you will read on his blog, used to write for Best Week Ever tv.)

"When I die, someone had better fucking BLAST this at my funeral (it’s only meant to be played at the highest possible volume).

As you listen to it, try to think of me on the bow of a small yacht, flying across the Miami shoreline, high on cocaine and shooting an Uzi into the air while screaming at the top of my lungs."

I'm still in the throws of giggle fits.  If you grew up with this movie like I did, you get it.  And after the horrible few days I have just had- this is the best thing ever.  Hands down.

UPDATE: I just came back to listen to this song again.  And again.  I have to say, picturing myself in Alex's fantasy- AWESOME.  

I think I need help.

Here it is everybody, the one thing that will make everyone NOT want to read this blog anymore...

Well, wait. Before I come right out and say it, I need to build up to it. Of course.

Every year about this time for the past seven or eight years, there's a cultural phenomenon that takes over the TV sets of Americans everywhere- though really not a surprise given the history of America and more specifically, America's obsession for talent. I could get into how it is a flagship for capitalism and bla bla bla, but like I always remind you all- intelligent conversation is best found somewhere else.

Aaaaaanyway, "American Idol" is everyone's guilty pleasure, rock star fantasy, and train wreck come true. As much as most people hate it, they don't get the ratings they do from no one- someone is watching it. And someone is buying up all those Kelly Clarkson CDs and Carrie Underwood iTunes(es?) and googling David Cook everyday (wait, am I the only one who does that?). So, you know what I'm talking about and chances are you've seen an episode or two if you aren't in a complex awaiting the return of the messiah.

So. What I have to say to you is this:

I really like Ryan Seacrest. Like in an awkward uncomfortable sort of way.

It happens every year when Idol starts up. He smiles into that camera and says something corny and I get chills. I was jealous when he was mauled by Bikini Girl this year and I want to reach through the TV when he hugs those bubbly girls who come out of the room clutching their golden flyer.

Maybe it's that familiar face I see every night on E! that reminds me that things are going to be ok as long as he's around and bringing me the latest details about Suri Cruise.  Maybe it's his witty repoirte with Simon Cowell as he walks the line between friendly and flirty.  I don't know what it is, I don't know what is wrong with me.  But...

Seacrest is hot.

Awkward and questionably gay, too.

But so, so hot.

Just another bitch.

So, when I was in school I had a guy say to me: "I jack off while thinking about you." I pretended like I didn't hear it and went about hooking up with him. Whatever. Then when I heard it again from a different guy after I was done with school, I had to start to wonder if it was coincidence. I have heard it from over five different guys now (in different variations of the phrase). So I have to ask:

Do you really all think that is something a girl wants to hear?

Ok, so i tried to understand all of this. Maybe you guys think that you are paying us a compliment? Like "I think about you so much when you aren't around that I just can't control my physical desires and have to whip it out and make love to a tissue." I think I would rather the more traditional "You are really pretty."

I have to say that I do not want to hear about your masturbatory practices in relationship to me. Maybe some girls dig that and that's their prerogative. Personally, I think it is a little gross (actually, a LOT gross). You jack off to porn and strippers and prostitutes. That's like equating me with that. Not to mention the whole act itself, while natural and perfectly normal, is a little ridiculous looking. No thank you, sir.

That's it. I was just wondering aloud.

Only the Lonely.

Happy Valentine's Day, Romantics!

So, I'm thinking I should probably recap my Valentine's Day for those of you who are curious. (It did NOT include me giving the masterpiece of a mixed CD to PVille Guy.)

It actually started with me getting d-runk, t-rashed, and other such variations of the word, while bowling in Parma. Yes, Parma. For those not in the know (international friends), Parma is pretty much the Ohio equivalent to... um... Chino. I hate to go all OC here, but I would never- NEVER- date someone from Parma- or Chino. Pretty much all of the westside of the Cleve (with the exception of Lakewood) is just a waste of space. Ohio ends at Cleveland for me. (But what about Cedar Point you say? I don't consider that part of Ohio, really.) Anyway, I could go on and on and on about how much I detest Parma and how the eastside of Ohio is the lesser of the two evils (Ohio is just lame all around).

Aaaaaaanyway, I realized that I was the cutest person at the bowling alley. This was a double-edged sword. Great because everyone needs to feel like they're the hottest in the room at least once in their life, not so great because there was not really any one worth my time and effort there (think the cast of "Napolean Dynamite). Of course this led to the increased imbibing of several drinks- including a standby man for any girl, Jose Cuervo.

None of this is relevant if not for the Cuervo that led to the Horrible Hangover of 2009. Not only was I wishing for death, I was hoping it would be quick and painless- like death by French Swordsman or something.  Of course, the days you wish that you were laying in bed relaxing/recovering are always the days before you have twenty of your mother's closest AA friends coming over for a brunch.  

I made cookies and cake and not once did I think of how sad it is that I would be sharing these not with a sig-o*, but a group of recovering alcoholics (actually, on second thought, they probably appreciated it a lot more than a guy would anyway).  

And yes, I did watch Romantic "Girl with unrealistic job and salary meets guy with unrealistic job and salary in New York city and then fall in love, but wait! there's a problem, but no- they're ok because now they're running toward each other on a street" Comedies.  "Must Love Dogs," "Somethings Gotta Give" (really disturbing for younger people, by the way. I had nightmares of Jack Nicholson wanting to date me.), and "How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days" (the most annoying, by far).  Oddly enough, by the end of all of this, I was actually NOT curled up in the fetal position and singing "All By Myself" on the floor.

It was weird.  Because, really, I didn't feel anything.  Not upset or angry or sad.  Hungover, yes, but other than that pretty damn good.  It was like a reassuring "You're gonna be ok" from some unseen voice somewhere.  And gosh darnit, I was!

Why can't they make a movie like that?  Girl with realistic job, crap car, and underpaid salary meets guy with too many issues to count, falls in love, he breaks her heart, she realizes she's ok- no running toward each other on the street.  The end.  Roll credits.  I can understand why the "Friday the 13th" remake did so well this weekend, I guess.  Guy meets girl, guy kills girl, guy kills another girl.  It's the same idea.

For next year, or really any time that you feel the need to immerse yourself in that lovey-dovey feeling, skip the Matthew McC/Goldie Hawn's daughter drivel and go for "Say Anything."  You will love it and respect yourself in the morning.  And that right there reminded me that there's still hope for finding a real Lloyd Dobler.

*Significant other. 

"You know what really grinds my gears?"*

I've got to say it: every time that I decide having children wouldn't be the Hell that I've made it up in my mind to be, I get seated in front of one on a plane.

This particular monster was a four year old red head in a green sweater. He was trouble from the moment I saw him, grinning ear to ear when his mother let him sit by himself in the single seat row.

It started almost immediately after take off. The kicks.

"Stop," his mother whispered. "The lady doesn't like it."

Of course this brat wasn't going to listen to her and she probably knew it, smiling to herself the more exasperated my sighs became.

Which brings me to my point: PARENTS- CUT IT OUT WITH THE SMUGNESS. Seriously folks, I'm not planning on having kids so don't even start thinking "Oh she'll feel differently when she has her own" or "You can't know what it's like until you have one."

I DON'T WANT ONE. OR TWO. OR EIGHT.

Do you know what most economical experts will tell you is the best way to save money? Well, besides buying a boat. NOT HAVING CHILDREN.

And I'm sorry if my life doesn't include picking old Cheerios out of my car or wiping up drool or buying Disney Princess bedroom sets only to have the brat turn around and say that she only likes Hannah Montana now- but that was your stupid choice (and if it wasn't, it's called contraception- look into it).

Really, babies are darling as long as they aren't mine and as long as they don't grow up to be little snots who don't listen and take you for every dime you have.

I'm on to you, children. I get what you're doing... and I don't like it.


*"You, America. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck you."

I'm shipping up to Boston.

So, if you want to know how I was feeling after a weekend of partying hard in Boston, play this video as loud as it goes, bang your head against your desk or a cabinet, and wake up next to a strange (but kind of cute) Asian kid from LA. And this was just my Saturday morning.

To try and recap this night would be a little tricky considering I'm not even sure what happened myself- especially since I was in a completely different place than the rest of my group for about a half an hour (I call it the Lost Cab Ride). Alanna and I used to recap our nights at Miami of Ohio but it really just ended up confusing everyone trying to read it who wasn't there. I can tell you this: I got back on the horse when it came to flirting with guys (and making out with random people), I didn't get back to my hotel until 5 am, and I met a cabbie named AJ who all of us white kids insisted on calling Bootleg (for his lack of a meter).

We may or may not have gotten in a bar brawl- my knuckles are mysteriously skinned and feeling like I connected with someone's jaw. We may or may not have killed a hobo- I'm not sure; it's Boston, crazy shit happens.

We DID have fun though and if I could remember more, I would certainly tell you if I thought you'd understand any of it.

Horror: The Remix.

Everybody (and by that I mean every self-proclaimed expert on any give subject) has a rant lately. Since politics, Obama's family, the job market, and the Economic Stimulus package are all taken, I would like to go off about a not as important but just as prevalent topic:

Horror movie remakes.

I know I could tell you about my adventures of the last week (singing Mr. Big to a sports bar full of white trash stereotypes while flirting with a girl- yes a girl- and wondering if I might have this whole guy thing entirely wrong) or my list of things I'm going to do the next four days in Beantown. But I'd rather do this and it's my blog. If you're bored, you can go somewhere else.

Inspired by both the thirtieth viewing of Michael Bay's newest remake "Friday the 13th" and an article by the wise talent of Pajiba.com, I realized that we are quickly becoming a generation of remakes and remixes and unoriginality. But before I get to that conclusion, let me tell you why I'm so peeved at horror movies in particular. 

"Texas Chainsaw Massacre," "The Amityville Horror," "The Hills Have Eyes," "Friday the 13th," "Halloween," and the upcoming "Last House on the Left" have all been totally redone. "Christine" is also on it's way too. Now, I'm not sure exactly as to the why but I think it's cheaper and therefore guaranteed profit at the box office- but I could be wrong. I'm not a movie producer- I'm a respectable human being.

I've seen all the originals. They're good. Of course they aren't OSCAR good but that's because they are an entirely different category of film making and therefore have their own rules and standards, etc. Cheap thrills, guts and blood, tits and ass. Whatever. One thing they aren't: pretty. Even the film that they are shot on is old (because this new shit wasn't available back then) and there was no such thing as IMAX or HiDef. They are sickening and hard to watch. You are discomforted by it. I never thought that evisceration could be pretty anyway.

And then I saw the remake of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre." And Jessica Beil running around, still looking hotter covered in blood than I ever will. I thought "Damn, this is gross but there's something not right... it feels..." And the word I was looking for was contrived. All remakes feel contrived. Because it's already been done and some hack in Hollywood wants to do it all again to make a quick buck (I think, like I said, I'm not sure).

One of my favorite stupid things Bravo ever did was a list of the top 100 scariest films of all time.  I thought it was a pretty cool waste of time back in school because it a)it was five hours long and when you're hungover on a Saturday, you don't really care and b) included movies I had never even heard of before.  One of those films was "Last House on the Left."  Wes Craven explained that as a peace-loving hippie, he felt the best way to make an anti-violence film was to make violence so revolting that no one would want to do it.

Cut to a week ago when I saw the flashy new trailer for the remake.  With a accoustic cover of "Sweet Child of Mine" sung by a girl and flashy cuts between Monica Potter, Tony Goldwyn, and CJ from the "Dawn of the Dead" remake* and a slogan that goes something like "What would you do if someone hurt someone you love? How far would you go to hurt them back?".   I admit, it had my heart racing and I was excited.  If it could stand alone as its own movie and not be "Last House on the Left," that would be awesome.

Except that "Last House on the Left" is a revolting, gory movie that leaves you with a feeling of both disgust and... no that's it, just disgust.  Actually, anger.  You'll get pretty angry too.  At your friend who wanted to rent it, at Wes Craven for making it, at the actors for doing it.  It's that disturbing.  Read: it doesn't need to be remade!  It did a pretty good job of achieving its goals the first time around!

So that really just brings me to the point: my generation has been scarred by many things; namely reality TV, the Bush Administration, and the need to remake and rehash everything that used to be good.  There are some exceptions- like some examples of sampling by superior hip-hop artists (actually, that's the only exception and even that fails most of the time).   And as far as other movies go, I love Steve Martin- but does he do Peter Sellers any justice by remaking "The Pink Panther"?  (The answer is no.)  Also, why is "Knight Rider" still on?  The original SUCKED ENOUGH!  Yeah, I said it.

Is it that hard to come up with something new?  I don't want to have kids and tell them that all of the movies that came out when I was younger were just remakes and all of the songs I liked in high school were just ripped off of old songs.  Because then I'd have to be like "You need to talk to your grandma, because everything I used to like was already stolen from her generation."

Also, I think it's time to petition Hollywood to STOP raping the Asian Horror film market with their crappy remakes- "The Uninvited" being the most recent, with "Oldboy" being the next victim (even though I'm holding out hope, Mr. Speilberg, I really am), and "The Ring" the only, ONLY, decent one of the whole bunch.

So, in conclusion: Movie Producers please quit while you're not even ahead and spare us from your "inspired" remakes of "Leprachaun" and "Killer Klowns from Outer Space."  Hip-hoppers, keep sampling but use with caution and proceed judiciously.  And TV.  I gave up on you last year because I'm sick of "The Bachelor," I don't care about how much weight Fattie loses at "The Biggest Loser" and I'm still pissed that you cancelled "Swingtown."

*By the way, "Dawn of the Dead" the remake is exempt from this rant (only because I think it is way better than the original.  It's just so good.  And yes it's pretty, but I don't care.  Zombie movies are different.

Oh Phil.

Grr....

I don't think I could take two more days of winter, much less 6 weeks.

Ben!

Congratulations to my former classmate at Miami on his second championship ring!

Also, I found out that Ryne Robinson, another Redhawk, is currently playing for the Carolina Panthers. He holds a special place in my heart because he hit on me at a party once.



ME (in text to Alanna): Why didn't I sleep with Ryne Robinson when I had the chance? I could have had NFL babies and been a real housewife of Atlanta or something!

ALANNA: OMG those are the only acceptable babies.

ME: I'm gonna go ahead and dream that.

ALANNA: Me too. I'm going to dream about visiting you, your hot husband, and your biracial children in your warm weather mansion.

Southside.

Here's a sign of age:

You know when you're driving along in your car and all of a sudden a grrrreat song comes on from when you were in your glory days in high school or at college and you're all, "Yeah, yeah! I love this song. Good tune, gooooood tune" and you go to turn it up (perhaps in an effort to recapture how you felt at 18 or something), and you start singing... only to realize that you don't really know any of the words? But you keep singing over them, changing mid lyric so that there's some resemblance to the correct one or continuing on with the wrong verse? And by the end, you pat yourself on the back because you feel cool like you just fit back into your high school jeans, even though you still managed to fuck up every single word...

I think that happened to me today.

Lonely Hearts Club. (the original soundtrack.)

Yeah, yeah- I'm temporarily back. I've been a little distracted as of late between looking for Boston apartments, trying to figure out the mindfuck that is "Lost," and tax season (which is done for me as of 9:00 am EST this morning- I like to file ASAP). In all of this I decided to create a Valentine's Day mix. Originally for PVille guy, meant only as a "Here's some cool music in the form of a cheap homemade mix cd to tell you on this Valentine's Day that I enjoy occasionally having sex with you when I'm bored." Although the less interested (read: more bored) I become with him, the more I seem to be making this cd for my own benefit to assure the fact that I can still organize good songs that share a similar theme into a cohesive playlist with a rise and fall, blending together effortlessly. Alanna has perfected this art and only a couple of my efforts ("Going Home for Turkey Day 2003" and "Miami Graduation Present/Goodbye Alamo") have come close to a seamless compilation.

The goal of the mix cd/tape (depending on how old you are) is to make the recipient listen to the whole cd without wanting to skip ahead or turn it off. Also, it should be said that the art of the mixed tape is oft abused by mopey boyfriends and horny college frat boys (who think that any combination of DMB, John Mayer, Guster, and whatever the college band du jour is will get them laid). Case in point, a friend of ours at Miami of Ohio asked if Alanna would craft a "lovemaking" cd for him and his girlfriend (one of our other roommates). In an act of rebellion and disgust (and an earlier example of an exercise in childish behavior), we "accidently" slipped "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails to "spice" up the moment with his virginal girlfriend. Nothing says love me tender like "I wanna fuck you like an animal." *

So, getting back to me- it's still a work in progress but here's what I got so far (with accompanying liner notes):

1. "Sometime Around Midnight" by the Airborne Toxic Event (it's awesome)

2. "Crush" by Dave Matthews Band (which I really debated on due to its college dorm room feel)

3. "Satellite" also by Dave Matthews Band (because it's my favorite song- sorry, but I still have some Miami girl left in me, also when this was originally for PVille guy it was important because that's his favorite band)

4. "Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional (I heard this song on "Scrubs."  I liked it. This does not, NOT, mean I like the band.)

5. "Put A Little Love In It" by Ike Reilly

6. "Commie Drives A Nova" also by Ike Reilly (ok, I understand that one of the unspoken rules of mixes is to try to not repeat artists but I love both of these songs and think they add some levity to the whole cd. also, If i need to cut somebody, then I can choose between the two).

7. "Squeezebox" by the Who (again, another PVille guy reference because he hates them but I think this song is funny and somewhat relevant to the bra size I wear).

8. "Every Little Thing She Does" by the Police(an addition made after thinking I didn't want to give this cd away. this song makes me happy)

9. "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon (title self explanatory)

10. "Good Feeling" by Violent Femmes. (to give myself indie "street cred". also love it because it is marshall and lily's "song" on "how i met your mother.")

12. "Don't Panic" by Coldplay (not exactly a love song, but definitely an important track on the soundtrack of Pville and I)

13. "All I Want Is You" by U2.  (it's not Valentine's Day without Bono.  it's not meloncholy without Ireland).

14. "La La Love Song" by the Pixies.  (I love the Pixies.  That is all.  Actually, "Where Is My Mind" would have made more sense in it's nonsense, if you can make sense of that.)

15.  "Lovesong" by the Cure.  (again, Valentine's Day + Melancholy.)

Like I said, it's still a work in progress (I have 14 days + to go so I'm not worried).  As for who gets it, maybe PVille Guy but probably not.  I totally want to use the above piece as cover art.  The site listed below is where I'm still finding inspiration:

Indie Selections for Your Erection

Any thoughts???

*I apologize for the amount of " " in that sentence- now I feel like that guy everyone hates who always uses them in casual conversation.

Nothing.

....aaaaaaaaaaand I got nothing.

Sorry, folks. I'm tragically uninspired today. All of my "Lost" presupposing really got in the way of my creativity.

I told you I'm crazy.

“So we can go back and kill Hitler?” to which Dr. Chang shot back, “Please…there are rules. Rule #1 - You can’t go back and kill Hitler. Everyone was always like ‘oh, let’s go kill Hitler’ and we were never getting any work done, so we banned that one right off the bat.”- bwe.tv recap by Dan Hopper.

I know, I know. I keep making "Lost" posts. BECAUSE IT WAS THAT GOOD. Here are my reflections from the episode:

In a totally non-BWE.tv Lost Recap related statement, Alanna joked that it was "Weekend At Bernies 2k9."

Ben and Jack's bromance is both pretty gosh darn cute and alarming. Especially how 1) Ben flushed his pills and 2) stuck up for him ("The man's been through a lot!") in the end.

Sun is one manipulative beeeeotch. ("I don't blame you" while thinking "You bitch, you are the real reason my Jin is dead. YOU YOU YOU.)

I love that Sawyer is so desperate to get a shirt on. You love it, you know Juliet is checking you out. Admit it. Seriously, he was just short of breaking out into an all out Chippendale's routine last night.

Is there anything more adorable than Hurley? Especially that scene with his madre.

HOLY CRAP, THERE'S THAT DAMN DOG.

That annoying guy is too annoying. He's so gonna die.

Hmmm, Dr. Hanso is oriental. So is Miles. So is Dr. Hanso's woman. And there's a baby in the beginning. Coincidence?

Does anyone care that Claire is still missing? Anyone?

Aaaaaaaand whadya know, that annoying guy died (in a totally "Troy"/"Braveheart"/every historical battle movie you've ever scene way).

The commentary in the pre-show recap was priceless. "Jack's an unhappy guy. He's grown this horrible beard. So you can pretty much guess he's unhappy."

And could someone please tell me why the hell Michelle Rodriguez (as dead AnaLucia) is giving Hurley advice to "not get arrested?" Hello, kettle? Pot calling.

That's all. Oh, and that it was literally the best two hours of my life. LITERALLY.

"So where's all this change, Obama?"

Not to continue on the political tip, because there are much better sites for that, but I have to say that I really love the guys at 23/6. I'm going to have to cast my vote for "Where's all the new jobs? Mine still sucks."

Although I really do miss being smarter than the President.

Heavy.

ALANNA: "They could really use a Doc Brown on that island."

ME: "That would be the most amazingly retarded thing ever. As in both amazing and completely ridiculous. And therefore they must do it. It will be the happiest day of my life."

If you saw "Lost," I'm sure that in a way this makes sense to you. If not, it was AWESOME.

I must confess.

Since this blog was started in November (long after it ended its fourth season), I have had no need to let you all in on this:

Ready?

I'm obsessed with "Lost." Pretty much to the point where I watch episodes of "Intervention" and think, Gee, I know how that feels! (only with less Meth and more Sawyer). So you can imagine how incredibly psyched I am that it premieres its fifth season tonight on ABC (international fans, sorry- I think you guys are like only on season 3 or something). I'm pretty much forcing myself to sit down and actually do work today in an effort not to jump around and do kartwheels. Let's face it, this is the highlight of my month (you know, besides Obama and all that). So, in no particular order, I thought I would tell you the rules that I have imposed on my home on this particular night of nights:

1. You do not talk during "Lost." This one is directed at YOU, Mom. (actually, this rule is a revamped version of the Symmes Hall "Alias" Act of 2001 from Miami University).

2. No questions. Really just an addition to rule #1. If you don't understand something, watch the DVDs. I really just cannot explain everything to you and hope that you'll understand.

3. No criticizing "Lost" before, during, or after broadcast. It pretty much goes without saying that this is the best written show (EVER) when it comes to plot, character development, and complexity so your nitpicking will not change that.

4. No phone calls. This one is for you DAD. I don't really care about the weather in Arizona.

5. No boys, no drama. There is no gossip time during "Lost" nor are there any problems with boys. For one hour a week, there are no man issues. They only serve as a distraction from the real issue at hand: What the hell is with the four-toed foot?

Lord knows, I love a lot of TV. However, "Lost" is just something more than TV. And for the next 5 months (or however long the season runs), "Lost" is life.

I've invested four years of my life in this show- much longer than any relationship, job, or house I've ever lived in as an adult. With two seasons left, I shall give it my undivided attention.

I'm sure this post has only confirmed that I am a crazy person.

"It's a beautiful day."

"America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

Happy Obama Day to you!

Current Events.

TEXT FROM ME: "All those people on the plane survive the same week as Obama becomes president. Coincidence? Let the miracles begin! No one is going to die this year!"

TEXT FROM ALANNA: "What plane?"

ME: "Dude, turn on the TV."

ALANNA: "WHOA."

Things to do in Ohio when it's below 0... (part 1)

I told you I would try and get more drinks out here.

Here is my "Geauga County Snow-ball" (a new take on the traditional whiskey highball)

2 oz blended whiskey
carbonated water
1 twist lemon peel

and here's the best part, REAL GEAUGA COUNTY SNOW!*


Pour blended whiskey into a highball glass over snow. Fill with carbonated water and stir. Add the twist of lemon peel and serve.

*Only real Geauga County snow works for this. You could try Upstate New York varieties for a similar smoothness and taste, however I suggest you get the original shipped.

SAT Words.

I recently realized that after all of the wasted time obsessing over the John situation, the many chemicals I use to get that "flat and shiny" look for my hair, and the hours of "90210" reruns I've watched in an effort to distract myself from said John situation, I've killed my brain. This isn't like "after four years of college maybe I killed some brain cells," this is like "I don't remember state capitals and I am quickly losing my once extensive (see, that's not even a really good word to use here!) vocabulary that I enjoyed in high school, oh God am I senile already?" brain-mush.

That being said* from now on, in an effort to retain what has been lost, I will be doing vocabulary words every month (or whenever I remember to do them). Ironically, this was my least favorite part of junior year honors English. Now, as I struggle to write your basic "strongly worded email" to my insurance company, I see what Mr. Siedlecki's point was.

Here are your January 2009 words and sample sentences.

1. excogitate: The idea that Heidi and Spencer are celebrities excogitates from the idea that "The Hills" is a popular show.

2. ruminate: I ruminated my gum. (Ah, it works word snobs- look it up!)

3. maudlin: Many accused me of being maudlin after John and I had our falling out.

4. lachrymose: It's true, I was a little lachrymose.

5. adept: Sarah Palin is very adept at making herself look like a churl.

6. sagacious (sagacity): I wish I was sagacious, but I'm just aloof.

7. sapient: Barack Obama won the election because of his sapient nature and dulcet speaking tone.

8. sybaritic: I would love to find a man who can keep up with my sybaritic lifestyle.

9. epicurean: My epicurean nature makes it ok to get wasted on good wine.

10. choleric: I have a choleric temperament due to Republicans and Evangelists.

11. irascible: Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's FCOG. Lately I've been pretty irascible.

12. churl: Sarah Palin.

*"That being said" is my favorite transition of all time. You could basically create any non sequitur you choose with it. "I think you are a fat idiot. That being said, I'm hungry for pancakes." Also, it makes insults sound less, I don't know, insulting. "You're lazy, worthless, and you have shamed this family for years. That being said, I think you are wonderful dancer." Although I use it to do none of these things here and I am now only realizing that just because you can make a humorous point, doesn't mean you should do it. I thought maybe I should go back and choose a different transition but then I realized I'm tired and it's snowing and while it doesn't prove my point, it still works in this situation. SEE WHAT I MEAN? I'VE LOST MY MIND.

Smart: it's the new Hot. (And neurotic is the new charming.)

I wonder what they named the dog?

This is going with the "Man sells daughter for cash, beer, and meat" story from yesterday. What is with the horrific parenting plague sweeping America lately?

I mean, come on. Raising a kid is not hard. Make sure you have a fenced in yard, newspaper on the floor, and plenty of water in their dish. Am I right?

Paparazzi.

While the rest of the world is obsessing over Britney's "comeback," Kelly Clarkson's new single, and Christina Aguilera's Target Commercial, this chick keeps pumping out BRILLIANT pop songs. BRILLiant. It could be because this song was used in the Hamptons episode of "Gossip Girl" with a kiss between Serena and Nate (and for those who watch this show, I think it's time that Serena and Nate reunited. I'm so bored of Dan "Pansey" Humphrey). It could be because the beat is just awesome and I can't help not to start dancing at my desk. I don't know. All I know is that this song is hypnotic. AND I LOVE IT.

I'm sorry, but I had to post this song. I don't want to post songs because that's ripping on Chez's thing over at DeusExMalcontent.com (and really, I agree with him 99% of the time). However, I think if you like pop music, then you should listen to Lady Gaga.

Oh, and I totally think that Aguilera ripped off her style.

Today on MSN.com...

Does anyone see anything wrong with this? Like say the top story of the hour?

David Letterman used to have a segment on his show called "Is this something?"

Yes, this is definitely something.

Leaving on a Jet Plane.

Putting all fears of dying in a fiery crash aside, I will be taking a much needed break back "home" to Boston. I say home because until I was 11, this is the general region in which I lived before my parents sat me down and said "It's not your fault, but mommy and daddy don't love each other anymore" (and thus sending me into a downward spiral of daddy issues and intimacy problems, but I digress). I will be there for four days the first weekend of February and therefore not posting anything. So to the ten of you, I think you can survive.

I'm currently struggling with my transportation issues. I admit that I'm a terrible driver. I also admit that Massachusetts is known for two things: taxes and bad drivers (and the Red Sox, and Cheers, and Sam Adams, and Paul Revere, etc). So, it will be interesting to see how this all... plays out.

So excited to see all the Rowes (people who share my DNA AND my last name!)

At the Movies... again!

Ok so, as I previously mentioned the Golden Globes were on on Sunday. This year, there is an interesting array of fare that harbors on the side of unconventional when it comes to what is considered "the best." For example, "Slumdog Millionaire," as Dan Hopper of BWE.tv points out, was neither "historical nor gay nor three hours long". It's about Indians. In Mumbai. "The Wrestler" stars someone that should be dead by now and Marisa Tomei. And that annoying as hell girl that dated Marilyn Manson.

I live in Ohio. While I would love to see these movies, I simply do not have the time or patience to drive to the Cedar Lee theater and chance getting my car stolen. So I have to pick and choose my battles when it comes time for awards season (and that's usually based, like how I pick up men, on first impressions).

"Slumdog Millionaire." Not interested, not about white people. (Of course I'm kidding. I'm not interested because it's about FOREIGNERS).

"The Wrestler." Who is Mickey Rourke? I'm told he had a career in the early nineties? I don't like wrestling so that's a con. But I DO like strippers. So that's a plus. Hmmm.

"The Reader." Looks like a downer. "The problem with doing a Holocaust film is there's no gag reel on the DVD, is there?"- Ricky Gervais

"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." The title is already long enough. I'm bored.

"Revolutionary Road." It's Jack and Rose had they gotten married! Um, why are they yelling so much in the trailer?

"Rachel Getting Married." Can someone please tell Anne Hathaway that she's boring me? Thanks.

"Dark Knight." Two words: Woo and a hoo. Loved. It.

"Wall-E." Umm, can we say Best Motion Picture of the Year? Cause I just did suckas!

"Milk." This movie looks so uplifting! A gay man in office! It's the feel good movie of the year, I'm sure it has a happy ending! Wait... What?

"Vicky Christina Barcelona." Try "Vicky Christina Boring."

"Frost/Nixon." Other than the funniness in the trailer ("What did you do last night? Did you do any FORNICATING?" Oh, tricky Dick...) and the big gasp moment ("When the president does it, it's not illegal!"), I'm just not motivated.

"Doubt." I doubt it. No, for real, this is the only movie that has me somewhat intrigued. I think the Catholic Church is an interesting institution and that nuns are quite complex characters, what with giving up men for God and all. I like Amy Adams and I like Meryl Streep and I love Phillip Seymour Hoffman. So... maybe.

"Changeling." Again, I think the best parts of this movie are in the preview. SO... that saved me $8.50 right there.

Movies for sure avoided: 10 (at 8.50/ticket- current rate in Ohio)
Money saved: $85.00 (that's my cell phone bill, a new pair of pants, or a really nice Coach wristlet bag)

So, as you can see, when it comes to the cinema I have the refined tastes of a 13 year old boy. Only three of these movies have actually made it to our local theaters and I'm sure you can guess which ones I'm talking about. Cleveland is just not a big market for film... an idea that should be tipped off by the fact that the only time celebrities come here is if the Cavs are in the playoffs. Which by the looks of it this year, we're gonna get lucky.

(Honestly, it's really funny to see West 6th turn into Robertson Blvd. Two years ago, Eva Longoria, Jack Nicholson, Beyonce, and Jay Z all forced smiles as they endured our "nightlife.")

This girl is smiling because:

CRAZ-O

A: She just realized her Mac at work has this fun thing called PhotoBooth and is contemplating all of the awesome X-rated possibilities.

B: She's not really smiling, just working on her "crazy eyes."

C: She's thinking about how wonderful Neil Patrick Harris was on SNL ("And thrust, thrust, thrust... double time!")

D: She just got a job as Snow White at Disney World and can't wait to get the hell out of Ohio and all this snow.

E: She is trying to figure out whether to use "Your" or "You're."

(Yes, that's your crazy heroine du jour in the picture. Do I look FAT?!)

Guaranteed to get you a man in 90 days or less.*

As much as I would like to not restrain the snark on this particular post, last night I couldn't help but try and condense years of horrific dating experience/thousands spent on Cosmo and Glamour into 10 generalities that every single girl should probably know. Pretty much, after all this time, this comes down to a list of lessons from mistakes I made and shall not make again (or at least try not to make again). I swear to God, if any of you fuckers steal this and write a relationship book I will come after you. :)

1. Be yourself. Obvious, yes. Do people do it? No. I changed myself completely because I thought certain people would like me more (JOHN). The truth is you are stuck with yourself for many years so don't compromise YOU because you think a guy is worth it. If you must change, then change for the better and become the best, most smiley and upbeat version of yourself. Be articulate and make interesting points. Don't dumb yourself down.

2. Jump in With Both Feet. You will date many men in your lifetime. Unless you found your soul mate out of high school or college, which does happen but not always (good for you if you did). Chances are, your heart will be eviscerated and smashed and put in a blender until there's nothing left. But here's the tough part: You can't let that scare you away from the next guy. You have to figure out a way to move on (and you will, I promise).

3. Date "losers." This was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend last night. You really cannot have a list of requirements for potential mates. Some girls do have high standards and there is nothing really wrong with that, but don't rule someone out because they don't make a lot of money or they didn't go to college. If a guy works hard and he's honest and genuinely fun to talk to, he deserves a chance- and at the very least, a conversation.

4. Don't Look for a Husband. Now, I make no guarantees with any of this. I'm just telling you what will help you out in the long run and give you peace of mind so you don't have to beat yourself up. Charlotte York was on a quest for a husband in "Sex and The City," and I have to say it was a pretty annoying storyline. Not only did she end up with a dysfunctional marriage, but she had unrealistic goals and deadlines set for herself (ultimately causing her to almost lose her second husband). Looking for a husband really only sets yourself up for failure not to mention scares of the opposite sex (men, by nature, are commitment-phobes and slow as snails when it comes to any kind of long term relationship). Don't rush things that are good. Just take your time and the rest will fall into place. Besides, marriage should not be the goal- love should be.

5. Don't play damsel and stop looking for your knight. Girls who need to be rescued are a novelty. Once your rescued, it will all get really old really quickly. Be a strong person, change your own tires and fix your own lights- or at least know how to dial up a professional who can. Girls who fall into the damsel role so easily (and at times, I have fallen into this category, too) start to take advantage of it. And men will see right through it.

6. Say yes. This is hard for a lot of women who want to be seen as strong and independent. Strong and independent is good, but it can also come off bitchy. Say yes if he wants to hang out. Say yes if he wants to play pool (which, ugh, I hate). Say yes if he wants to see a stupid movie that you have no desire to see (Hello, "Bangkok Dangerous"? Yeah, ummNO). As long as it isn't something that will make you feel totally uncomfortable (I completely understand, and actually support, saying no to a 5-way orgy with a goat and a gallon of Canola Oil), there's no harm in trying something.

7. Smile. I know this sounds like a pageant mom's advice for her four year-old. However, it's probably the easiest thing you can do to make yourself more attractive (Didya know that in advertisements clock hands are set to the 10 and 2 to form a smile because it is a more attractive shape?) This is one I had to learn the hard way. I have a big mouth with full lips, as does my sister. When we don't smile (ie, plain work face), we look like we are scowling (as we have been told many a times by our thin-lipped mother). So I have learned to keep some degree of a happy face in social gatherings. Now, I'm not talking like Joker grin... but just something that makes you approachable.

8. Be Your Own Person. I was taught this by my twelfth grade English teacher, Miss Delassandro. However, I didn't realize it until my last long term relationship. She was criticizing "Jerry Maguire" and the famous "You complete me" line he says to Renee Zelweger in the end. "You shouldn't want someone to complete you. You should be complete on your own." It's really true. And sadly, it takes some people years and years of marriage to figure it out. You should be a fully developed and stable person, able to exist on your own and self-sustain, before you take someone on in your life. Otherwise, when that person goes away, there will be a big hole left and it will cause a vacuum effect. Trust me when I say that's really hard to come out of.

9. Be clean. Really this is just housekeeping. Always be clean. Take showers before dates. Don't do drugs. Don't go on "Rock of Love: Bus." Don't drink a lot (rule of thumb: don't get so drunk that you can't get home on your own volition). Brush your teeth. Don't kiss someone after you puke. Make sure you get tested for HIV and other fun STDs. Take pride in your appearance. This isn't shallow, it's just a function of being a human. Really, no one wants to date the smelly girl with vomit in her greasy hair.

10. And finally, care of Ludacris via Usher's "Yeah": Be a lady in the street but a freak in the bed. While I do believe that this is self-explanatory, allow me to elaborate. Guys want a girl they take home to mom. They don't want one of Bret Michaels's rejects or someone who should be on "Charm School." Those girls are fun to look at, ogle, have a quickie with in the bathroom, but they aren't "Hey, meet my parents" material. So, don't hook up with Bret Michaels in a bathroom or do porn with a midget (really, any porn is not a good idea) if you want to have a relationship with a decent man. And no, Flava Flav, Chance, Real, and Bret do not count as "decent."
Second part of this, the "that being said" transition: behind closed doors, go crazy. As long as you are both consenting and conscious, I say have a lot of fun. Keep it between you and him. It's worth it. He doesn't want to hear about things you've done with other people and really, he doesn't want you broadcasting it to everyone either. I know it's the Madonna/whore complex but it's true. Men like the appearance of their wives to be sweet and classy while their mistresses are whorey and slutty. So your goal is to find the balance between the two. I know, it's not fair. But guys are stupid and have very banal brains.

So, that was my crack at relationship advice as shotty and half-assed as it may be. Guys, feel free to disagree or add to any of this.

*I make no guarantees about any of this working.