MTV Got Something Right

It's a shocker, I know. But one of the ridiculous reality programs on MTV actually accurately portrays the life of one group: the d-bags of the Jersey Shore.

I had my bachelorette party last weekend, and because Vegas is too expensive and far away, we went to Atlantic City. Wow. Let me just say wow. I have never seen so many tiny but muscle-y, orange men in my entire life. And they are super aggressive.

But, it isn't like they have any game - at least any game that I recognize. Granted, I have been in a relationship for a long time, but I think there are some things that are just universal.

For instance, it is not charming or cute to yell at a girl, "Hey, Bachelorette. It's my bachelor party, and we can have sex until tomorrow." In case you are wondering what I replied, I told him he didn't meet the height requirement.

Other things that are not cute:

1) Grabbing ass on the dance floor when the club turns the lights out (however, that did lead to one of the more quotable nicknames of the party. The "butt bongo pirate" was coined by MR. Well done!)

2) Coming up behind a girl and rubbing your crotch on her while grabbing her stomach. No one touches my stomach.

3) Unbuttoning your shirt down to your belly button.

4) Fist pumping

5) Excessive hair gel

6) Tanning until you turn orange. Seriously, orange.

In spite of - or perhaps because of - the men of the Jersey Shore, I had a wonderful weekend. Thanks to the ladies - including my fellow bitch Elle - for making it a great send off to my single lady status. But, I do still hate you all for the tiara and veil.

Please Do Not Disturb the Urbanite in Her Natural Environment

April is upon us, and for those of us in D.C., that means cherry blossoms, allergies and the official start of tourist season. I'm as happy for the warm weather sans impending humidity as the next gal, but I hate this time of year.

At some point when you were a youngster--for me it was like 7th grade--your school thought it was a good idea to take you to our nation's capital and brainwash you with a fine bouquet of patriotism with the faintest hint of xenophobia. You looked at monuments, visited museums, and more than anything enjoyed being away from your parents and sleeping in the same hotel where your crush was, even if there were like 30 chaperones between you and him, ready to pounce at the faintest scent of hormones.

Never did you consider the fact that that bicameral legislature that you're admiring has a whole staff of people who live and work in D.C. and keep that thing running. And that that legislature has a whole lot of corporate interests that wish to influence it and employ an army of people to do so. And that news organizations cover the relationship between the two, which they do by being chock full of staff. And that all of those staffers need to eat and shop and see movies somewhere and that there are a whole host of people who FRIGGIN' LIVE HERE AND THE CITY IS NOT A PLAYGROUND OF STATUES BUILT FOR YOUR TOURISTY AMUSEMENT! YOU DIDN'T CONSIDER IT, DID YOU!??!

Sorry, I get a little worked up. And I'm still pissed that Granny O'Grimm didn't win the Oscar for Best Animated Short. Anyways, my point is, as a tourist and visitor to this place, you should respect the local customs and try not to annoy the city's natural population--the urbanite.

Those things aren't modern day black magic, they're called escalators. And while they are, in fact, very long, they are not a photo opportunity. Kindly stand on the right and walk on the left or suffer my wrath. Oh, oh, you think I won't curse at your five year old who is "adorably" trying to run up the down escalator during morning rush hour traffic when I am running 15 minutes late to work? You are so fucking wrong.

As with most wild animals, the best way to avoid a mauling, is to keep a respectful distance from the beast, and the best way to do that, is to recognize it. So, with the help of 2B1B's graphic designer in residence AO, I give you....


The urbanite may have any or all of the evolutionary advantages listed above. And in addition to the flip flops, she may also be carting high heels in a reusable grocery bag because the guy at CVS isn't asking you if you'd like paper or plastic, he's asking you if you'd like to pay $0.05 or just manage to carry your purchases on your own without murdering the planet.

The urbanite is well adapted to her environment. Sorry tourist, I'm not even looking at you. I can't tell that you're lost and need directions. I'm staring at something else disdainfully behind these sunglasses. Oh, that homeless dude was asking me for money? I thought he was waving and helpfully providing a back beat to my ipod with his coffee cup full of change. PETA chick, I would take your stupid little flyer filled with oddly racist arguments about why animal cruelty is bad if my hands weren't so damn full with this coffee and this Blackberry.

It's best to allow a perimeter around the urbanite and to stay out of her direct path--the urbanite doesn't waver and stupid little high school girls in their school shirt who failed to get out of my way while I was walking to work this morning may have gotten knocked on her ass in a crosswalk only to have her teacher cursed at about the proper time and place for tourists when she tried to scold me. Spill my coffee on me and pay the price--I have theater tickets for tonight. You're just going to the fucking Spy Museum.

Things I Do Not Understand

I consider myself a keen observer of the human condition. I think I read people well, and I love to play armchair psychiatrist. However, there are certain behaviors that mystify me. These are just a few of them.

1) People who invite all of their Facebook to events - even their friends who live nowhere in the area.

2) People who reply to all on office-wide emails to say something personal to the sender.

3) People who ask you where you are registered for your wedding, only to buy you random crap that you can't return because it comes from some artisan store in a city where you don't live.

4) People who friend people they've never met on Facebook (FB might be a bit of a recurring theme). Is Facebook looking to make the word "friend" lose all meaning - assuming it hasn't already?

5) Anything anyone does on Metro. Seriously, that could be its own post. But, just a couple:
A) People who sit in the outside seat at rush hour on a crowded train, leaving the seat next to them empty, and then shoot you a death stare when you ask to sit down in the last available seat.
B) People who will stand in the doorway of an EMPTY train! There are empty seats, lots of standing room and they stand right in the way of people trying to enter or exit the train.
C) Tourists who ride during commute hours.

It's as though some people lie awake at night trying to figure out how to annoy other people. If they were looking to annoy me, they succeeded.

X.O.X.Oh, I so don't care anymore.

This season on Gossip Girl, I was bored. It's a classic teen drama mistake - they took them out of high school and tried to put them in the adult world. Here's the thing - high school melodrama is more compelling and believable (even when it's totally unbelievable) than when the characters strike out into the real world only to face instant success and bizarre complications.

Case and point: Serena's affair with the newly elected Congressman Tripp VanDerBilt (who, incidentally, looks about 16). She doesn't suspect anything when she gets a job she is totally unqualified for - but I guess they never do in TV Land - and then she thinks she and her boss can remain professional?! Please. Life doesn't work that way, and I don't care how pretty you are.

Don't even get me started on the snooze-worthy relationship between Dan and Vanessa; the utter ridiculousness of a 19 year old running a multi-million/billion dollar company; or Jenny the drug dealer. It's all just lame and boring. CW, it's time to euthanize this drama before it goes the way of the original 9-0: from a youthful, fun romp to an old, incontinent curmudgeon of a program. It's telling you to get off its lawn. Listen!

Spring has Sprung!

No, I'm not just talking about the drastically improved weather. It's March Madness, which Cal is in for the first time in, like, forever. And yet, that's still not what's really important. What's really important is that Fug Madness is happening over at Go Fug Yourself. Vote early, vote often.

If It's Wrong to Love a Shoe, I Don't Want to be Right

Edited: Apparently Elle told some of you that I bought hooker shoes. This is not the case.

I love shoes. My closet documents this love affair pretty well. But, until recently, my pain threshold pretty much topped out with Stuart Weitzman or Kate Spade (and almost exclusively when they were on sale). Then my wedding got really close. And suddenly, I needed new shoes for the wedding. And, of course, a purchase for the wedding is so easy to rationalize. It's a special day - I should just go for it, right?

Well, I did. And now, I am the proud owner of a pair of Christian Louboutins. I can't stop looking at the beautiful, blood red sole and thinking about how that they are all mine. Seriously, I want to sleep in them.

It may be shallow to be so excited about this status symbol. But if you think I am shallow, you are probably just jealous :)

I am just worried about when they get lonely, and I have to buy them a sibling pair...

Threat Levels: Defined

Those readers out there who are privileged enough to also be on my gchat list know that, depending on my level of stress, I often update my status with my "threat level." Much like Department of Homeland Security warnings, my threat levels describe how dangerous I might be at any given moment...as defined by pop culture references, many supplied by my lovely friends when I inevitably pose the question "what's above X?"

So, the official threat levels (this is gonna be a thing, pass it on.)

1. Taylor Swift - Super nice. I never use this one.
2. Elle Woods - Just ambitious and lusting after jewelry.
3. Britney Spears - Just whiny and self-destructive.
4. Lindsay Lohan - Whiny, self-destructive and litigious.
5. Real Housewife of Orange County - Bitchy and a little backstabbing.
6. Amanda Woodward - Bitchy, short-tempered and outright backstabbing. (I love new Melrose.)
7. Real Housewife of Atlanta - Bitchy, backstabbing and of course, hair pulling.
8. Shannen Doherty - Will punch you in the face.
9. Carrie - Will kill an entire gym full of people.
10. Naomi Campbell - Will kill an entire gym full of people while humiliating them.
    

I Hate Hipsters

But I love this

And this

What is Still Wrong with Tyra Banks?

Cycle 14 of ANTM premiered this week, and it seems like the standard fair. Tyrant still dresses like a mental patient and overuses the term "fierce" to the point that if it ever had a meaning, it would have lost all of it. There are so many teen mothers in this Top Model pool you'd think she was running a halfway house instead of a modeling competition.

There are the clueless hood rats - in fact, one of them actually referred to herself as "classy ghetto." Yeah, because such a thing exists. There are the powder keg girls who explode seemingly for no reason. Okay, those are the same girls are the clueless hood rats. Interestingly though, they are not the teen mothers. In fact, two of the teen moms claim to have gotten knocked up from their first time, and are more bumpkin than hood rat. Seriously, the only things these girls know how to model are the stereotypes they represent.

All in all, the season promises to be kinda boring, but I will make sure to keep watching - just in case something interesting or original actually happens.

I Love to Hate You

My continuing mantra: I don't blog about work, but suffice to say, it's been crazy busy lately...and also there's been a lot of crazy. To comfort myself, I turn to one of my all-time favorite hobbies: internet stalking people I hate.

What? It relaxes me.

Now, usually Facebook--aka stalker's paradise--is sufficient. I've mentioned, well, many times that I am a huge fan of not being a huge fan of my brother's significantly younger girlfriend. Her recent unprotected (heh) Facebook activity leads me to believe that perhaps she and my brother are not together any more, because she's moved out and neither of those dudes in her profile pic are dearest bro. Fascinating! Because I thought when you managed to survive law enforcement relationship counseling (that's my way of saying the cops were called over a domestic violence dispute while trying to deny my white trash family) you can survive anything. Ahhhh, Facebook. (Try commenting on one of her wall posts or pictures...pretty sure you totally can!)

But what about those nemeses that are actually college educated? Like the one whose Facebook profile you used to happily stalk because you were good enough frenemies to be Facebook friends back when she separated all of her interests with hearts and they included "Ralph Lauren slim fit polos in every color" and "my pink rhinestoned Blackberry." Stupid bitch had to grow up, realize that was unprofessional and get a job AT FACEBOOK where she learned all about privacy settings. So how come I can still see her "Best of Vegas" album?! Bitch, close your mouth...and wipe that shit off your face, no one needs that much makeup...and don't even get me started on the bronzer.

When Facebook fails you, never fear, there's plenty of fun on the internet at large. Who doesn't love a gal whose Twitter name is actually Libby's a Princess, even if her tweets are blocked? But that's not nearly enough. No no, for extra bad days there's the single most vapid thing you've ever read. Personal favorite entry: her Yelp of Southwest Airlines written as if she is Charlotte York. No, not kidding. And when you thought it just couldn't get any better, there's her bio for SF's semi-grown up sorority (so that none of us ever have to really grow up), Spinsters.

Now, one might ask, "what incident precipitated this hatred." Doesn't matter. The hatred doesn't need a reason, it's a reward all it's own. Join me. Internet stalk incredibly hatable people you don't even know. You know you want it. Doooooooo ittttttttttt.

UPDATE: In chatting with Tami this morning, I realized that I left out perhaps the best part of loving to hate dear ole Libby: she was Miss Stanislaus County 2005. No. Joke. Stanislaus: a small but important step above Fresno.