The Lady Doth Protest

Fair is Foul and Foul is Foul

2011-10-02T05:26:00.000-07:00

Fair is Foul and Foul is Foul

Mrs. De Stefano looked like Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast if, of course, Mrs. Potts were a real person and not an animated teapot. She was round, with chubby cheeks and a hearty, sweet laugh. She had a Masters in “Tough Love” and had double-majored in “Sass” and “Intellectual Rigor.” This woman was a force.

“Why would Shakespeare have the cock crowing, and reoccurring knocking in this scene,” she questioned us as she held Macbeth in one hand and twirled her plump fingers in the air, searching for something to materialize from our brains. Her eyes searched the room.

Two seats away from Mrs. D, a name that was far easier to say than Miss-us De- Stef-a-no, I sat in my over-sized uniform, my hair frizzy from carelessness with my eyes scanning the section of text to which she was referring. In an all-girl’s school where, for most girls, Ivy League colleges were legitimate choices and not “reach” schools, I was a commoner grasping for the college acceptance scraps.

“Maybe Shakespeare likes visitors,” I thought to myself, too nervous to admit this very silly analysis of a story in which I was enthralled.

It wasn’t Shakespeare’s tragedy that grabbed my attention; I was captivated by Mrs. D. She was a bundle of Shakespearean passion wrapped in a business-casual muumuu. Her love for Macbeth, which she had probably taught 3,000 times roughly, caressed our minds. She prodded us, tweaked our thoughts, played with our emotions and made us realize how the universe of Literature was fascinating; it was ours.

Distracted for a moment, I was casting the boys I was infatuated with as various characters in the play.

“Pete would be Macbeth, because he likes power. Mike would be Banquo, because, like him, he will have hot sons…”

“Melissa, how would you feel, sitting in the audience of this play, and a cock crows, out of the silence right as someone has been killed?” Mrs. D woke me from my boy obsessed stupor.

“Uh, wow,” I intelligently responded, “uh, well, that’s so scary, I think I’d pee my pants.”

With the words, came embarrassment. I’d pee my pants! At this point, twenty-five girls were laughing at me—with me. Who knows? I began to sweat, my hair frizzed a degree frizzier and I waited for Mrs. D’s reaction. I tried to play it cool. Laugh with everyone so this goes better? Fight off the embarrassment through tears? How would I work this one, of many, “Mongi Moments”?

Sooner than I’d expected, Mrs. D’s face softened. She began to laugh that good laugh that comes straight from the soul. She was tearing up a bit as she, I, and the entire class exulted in my ridiculous comment.

Through laughs, Mrs. D choked out words I’ll never forget.

“Sweetie,” she breathed, “don’t ever, EVER say that in public again!”

And I never have.

Love always,

The Lady

Action is Eloquence

2011-04-15T05:20:00.000-07:00

His life was gentle; and the elements
So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!

There is a hush as the joke lands on the audience. I wait as my cheeks burn with the words that have just sizzled out of my mouth. Were they funny words or not? I wait. The laughter starts and their happiness interrupts the silent room. I can move on. While there might be 40 people merely interested, one person with passion can fill a room. Passion comes in many forms, but my passion starts and ends with a punch-line.

I was an early giggler. My brother would make funny faces and, even at 3 months, I knew that was comedy. My Dad would make silly statements (that were usually untrue) and I’d have to uncover his meaning. As I got older, it was easier for me to recognize the satire between the lines. My mother was a character waiting to be mimicked, and I mimicked her to the point of many a “get to your room” and “stop repeating what I’m saying.” I was a blatant observer of others and my keen eye only added to my ability to make people laugh. While all those around me helped me develop my talent, passion isn’t static – it snowballs into something uncontrollable and, with a little luck, something profound.

When you are honing a skill you have to learn from the greats. I always appreciated Shakespeare’s tragedies, but I really loved any scenes devoted to the Groundlings (the socially degenerate of Shakespeare’s time). Dogberry in Much Ado About Nothing is absurd and hilarious, never making sense, but always making his own sense. The troupe of actors in A Midsummer Night’s Dream made me chuckle as they took their roles so comically, and disastrously, serious. What I learned from the fool of “Twelfth Night” was the greatest lesson of them all – comedians speak the most truth. Shakespeare takes the fool and shows the world that a passion for humor shines a light on the destructive nature of others. A fool’s passion can, sure, make the world smile, but that humor is based on the observations of a cruel world.

While I don’t pretend that my passion makes great change, I know it makes change. If I can “make em’ laugh” then I can make them think. If I can grab the attention of others for more than five seconds maybe they will see, for just a moment, that change is needed, that society is faltering in some way or that the individual has the ability to be better for the whole. In this moment, when the hush occurs and the joke lands on the audience, I wait for the laughter and I wait for the thinking to begin.

Sincerely,

The Lady

The Woman's Part In Me

2011-01-07T09:31:00.000-08:00

Posthumus:

Could I find out

The woman's part in me—for there's no motion

That tends to vice in man, but I affirm

It is the woman's part; be it lying, note it,

The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers;

Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers;

Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain,

Nice longing, slanders, mutability,

All faults that name, nay, that hell knows,

Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all;

For even to vice

They are not constant, but are changing still . .

Cymbeline Act 2, scene 5, 19–3

One, its been forever and a day since I've written. Sorry, faithful readers--especially you anonymous commenter who loves to fill my comment box with weird links to virus-filled places.

Anyway, I write today on an important issue...models. I've been living in a bubble where the models were not what everyone has always claimed. Consider the bubble burst, the seams of my naivety have come undone & the innocence I once clung to, like a child to its teddy bear, has slipped precariously under my bed. I get what all the hub-bub is about. Models ARE stick thin and models DO aggravate a situation in our current society where young girls feel the need to be super thin. Good morning, brain, welcome to reality!

How could I be so delusional? Well, thats simple. My models are not those (super-thin-almost-falling-over-from-the-weight-of-their-own-heads) models. My models are plus size models. They make sense. They're curvy and they always have a bit of chub that no photo-shop could remove. Looking at them has made me feel good. I don't feel like eating, or the way I look, is a problem, because their beautiful round faces say otherwise. Their decorated bodies, wearing different styles of clothes, have let me know that there is world beyond--where cool clothes fit big girls. I like my models. My models reinforce something within me, rather than diminish something within me. Also, my models look like people I know or would see in real life.

I was well and good in my delusions until I stumbled upon Forever21's website, which my friend called "Forever Size 1." I didn't understand her meaning at first, then I clicked to see some of their clothes. Holy heck, girlfriends - you are all very, VERY thin. I started thinking about other websites, magazines and advertisements I've ignored most of my life. This stuff must be everywhere! I'm scared that there are others out there; more skinny, more emaciated versions of the female body for little girls everywhere to covet. "No!" I shouted to my coworker who looked at me funny, and excused this behavior as something "zany" I would do.

I want them to see my models, look at the differences, and distinguish that the skinny ones are not to be idolized. I want them to see my models, and know the differences in beauty--that there are different forms of it and not one size fits all (pun intended) standards to beauty. I just want them to see my models.

With much love to my models,

The Lady

Clothe My Naked Villany

2010-07-29T08:23:00.000-07:00

Richard:
"And thus I clothe my naked villany
With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ,
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."

King Richard III (I, iii, 336-338)

It’s been decided, I shall become a nudist. With the recent heat influx of, roughly, a billion degrees Fahrenheit – I’ve decided that clothes are no longer necessary. While not a nudist currently, during this past week I kinda get their lifestyle. Foregoing clothes has become the only solution to my heat induced hysteria.

In all honestly, I really like clothes. I like fashion and pairing this shirt, with that skirt, and color coordinating my wardrobe. With all that said, this past week has made me want to throw every article of clothing away and go ala-buff.

Going outside feels like some greater being is saying “Here, Melissa! Enjoy my hot breath!” I watched sizzling flowers combust into yellow ash, a drowsy bird drop woozily low to the ground, drunk from the sun. I felt the pain of a squirrel holding up his hands to the sky asking for a swift death. The heat has been so gross, it’s all I talk about.

I say the words “gross” and “stifling” at least four times a day. And, if nothing else, it’s a great way to break up an awkward pause in a conversation. “God, it’s hot out there – am I right? Eh? It’s stifling! Man, this weather is gross! Did you hear its going to be 103 tomorrow? Gross. Ew! Hot, hot, hot! Gross.”

Aside from it being hot outside, I’ve become horribly attached to my air conditioning. If there were meetings for those addicted to Air Conditioning I would have to stand up, say my name, and confess that I have a problem. Once inside, away from the heat blanket that has become life, I go into an A.C coma. I forget my name, I forget where I am, but I remember the cool sweetness of my air-conditioner and how it loves me unconditionally.

I walked outside of air-conditioning for 1 minute yesterday, and when I went back in it looked as if I’d jumped into a pool of hot water. My face was red & my large hair, which takes forever to wet, was dripping. It took me 35 minutes of air-conditioning and two Sham-Wows to dry myself off from my dip in the heat.

So maybe, just maybe, if I become a nudist things would be cooler. Or maybe, just maybe, I’d still be hot and hearing the word “gross” being referenced about the weather & my socially unacceptable behavior.

A toast to cooling down,

The Lady

Most learnèd judge, a sentence! Come prepare!

2010-01-10T17:01:00.000-08:00

"Most learned judge, a sentance! Come prepare!" - Skylock, Merchant of Venice

Certain things get me kind of ill-at-ease. Not knowing where a loved one has gotten to when they don't pick up their phones, the moment right before a grade is revealed, the moment after someone says "we need to talk," and when my gmail inbox reads "Anonymous has left a new comment on your post." For the most part, those who read this blog are people I know. Yet, there are strangers among us. When I read my inbox to find one of these strangers has made contact, there is this moment of realization as if to say "you are not alone...someone is watching." Today's comment particularly left me feeling like I needed to cover up my naked body and run into hiding. I kind of hate anonymous commenting because it feels cheap--dirty even. It suggests I should be open with the public, but someone is lurking outside the bushes watching me and hiding their identity. Rather than whine about these comments, I'm going to do exactly what this commentor has suggested - I'm going to continue to be original.

With that, I am going to pretend that these "Anonymous" comments are from people I know.

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post:
Opulently I assent to but I contemplate the collection should acquire more info than it has.
Dear Professor Sherlockwilloweed *Friendly Museum Curator,
So nice for you to drop by my blog and respond incoherantly to a post that had nothing to do with art or a collection of any sort. Your comment made me use a dictionary mostly because none of what you said had to do with being snowed in (the theme of my post). You must be a hoot to hang out with! I imagine you collect pipes, but never smoke them. Enjoy being boring!
Love,
The Lady

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post:
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot of creativity and orginiality now keep it up!

Dear Mom,
Sorry this blog sucked early on. I know my earlier work dealt mostly in "drinking" and I imagine that broke your precious Mom-heart. I apologize. Thanks for always hanging my creative work on the fridge. No one believed in my talents more than you that day I brought home a bird house made of uncooked pasta. I will try to keep up the good work, so long as you always reward me in nothing but your honesty & mac n'cheese. You're the best...no, seriously, you are. No, its not me, its you! YOU'RE THE BEST!
Love,
Your lady-like daugther

Anonymous has left a new comment:
What do you think? Do I look hot? You can check my pics here!

Dear Tom (My First Kiss),
No. You don't. May I ask, is that a growth or some sort of tumor on your forehead. I don't remember that from grade-school. Whatever it is, it is not hot. T'will never be hot. ((shivver)).

Thanks for sending me such a wonderful comment!
Crying Herself to Sleep,
The Lady
P.S. That computer virus-link was excellent. I <3 computer viruses!

Keeping it real,

The Lady

Blow, blow, thou winter wind

2009-12-19T18:39:00.000-08:00

Amiens:

"Blow, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;" As You Like It

Oh, no, snow! You've ruined my weekend to the core. Likewise, you've ruined my sanity!

Ok, so part of my weekend was ruined because of my own behavior (sorry Han-Sam) and subsequent illness all of yesterday. Regardless, tonight was supposed to be epic and tomorrow was supposed to be a fun-date with my ladies. What do I get instead? Inches of snow and, most likely, an extra 5 pounds. Whatever, let's look at things from the shiny side of the snowflake (terrible metaphor? I blame the snow!)

Anyhoo - good stuff that happened because of the snow:

1. Spent the day with my family & the love.

2. Baked monkey bread - ate monkey bread - gained 5 pounds of monkey-bread-love handles!

3. Stayed in my jammies all toasty and warm all day!

4. Felt a bit more Christmas-excitement thanks to the Christmas music playing all day long.

5. Watched an awful movie and didn't feel guilty about not doing work! Hooray!

6. Took an hour nap on the couch. Couch-naps are the greatest!

7. Ate delivery veggie pizza. There is nothing greater than eating a pizza and having it delivered to you. I should have just had someone feed it to me.

8. Have had a no makeup, hair-in-a-bun, scummy looking Lady kind of day - and I like it!

9. Watched the puppies frolicking in the snow! They were the cutest!

10. Smelled the sweet scent of cinnamon & spruce thanks to the season.

Ok, so I guess the snow isn't THAT bad. I just better not be stuck in here all day tomorrow or this cabin fever is going to become a true epidemic!

Ho-Ho-Ho,

The Lady

They Say Do Never Live Long

2009-12-06T16:53:00.000-08:00

"So wise so young, they say do never live long."

King Richard III (III, i, 79)

While it is the holiday season, and I've had a fabulous weekend of family, friends and my love, I can't help but think of those we've lost.

In the past 6 years I have seen two wonderful men leave this earth way too early. One was in grad school and the other was working and "living the dream" of a bachelor. Both died in car accidents.One story remains a mystery and the other was killed by a drunk driver. Their stories ended far before their time and, every year at this time, I am reminded of them.

Christmas lights put me over the edge. Tonight, as I drove past rows of houses cheerily decorated with colorful orbs, I remember seeing those very lights and being told "he passed away." Christmas lights, so beautiful and happy, remind me of those two very souls who were taken from their families during the holidays. They will never get to hold their loved ones, decorate their trees, smell the chilly air, unwrap presents, get frustrated over crowded malls and taste delicious Christmas cookies. They won't, but I will. I will do all these things and, as much as I can, with a smile in honor of these two men.

Remember why this is the season.
Remember there are those who are lost and lonely.
Remember we can celebrate, while others cannot.
Just, remember...

Tis' the season,

~The Lady~

What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks

2009-11-30T07:30:00.000-08:00

But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
Romeo And Juliet Act 2, scene 2, 2–6

Sometimes, we all need a little light coming through our window to remind us that, even though today is dreary, tomorrow will be better. While my light isn't "Juliet" it is the forthcoming weekend. I know its only Monday, but I need to look forward to feel better about today!

Light Through My Window:

It is raining outside and I am tired, but this weekend brings a formal with my lovely boyfriend. I am so excited to get all pretty and dance the night away.

Holiday music is playing, Christmas lights are going up and the Holiday season is upon us. I love giving gifts and thinking of people in a joyful and reflective manner for all of December. I love this time of year, because we no longer take each other for-granted.

I have great friends. The end.

We got a new dog who is slowly becoming a family member.

January brings new, and old, resolutions. This is the time to make changes that make me better for myself and better for others.

New Moon is out and I think all the Twi-Hards will be out of the theaters and I can officially see it without their screams...or can I?

The great hair-dye debate rages. Regardless, it is exciting to decide whether or not I will turn brunette or red-headed. For now, still blonde.

My friends from work are throwing a "30s" themed party. I've already bought a Bonnie & Clyde-esque dress and cannot wait to dance with my love in his pin-stripe suit while my lips glisten in deep red.

That is all for now. What are you excited for? What brings you some light on this rainy day?

~The Lady~

What Men Dare Do!

2009-11-10T14:00:00.000-08:00

Claudio:"O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men daily do, not knowing what they do!"Much Ado About Nothing (IV, i, 19-21)
This is my life....

So, I decided to take a professional course on philosophy and satire for a professional development day. Oh boy, did I learn alot. While everyone was acting like the adults they were, I pretended to be an adult. On the inside, I was giggling and freaking out like a child.

Why? Well, because although I thought I'd be learning about Satire we had read "Plato's Symposium" which explores love. Most of these love ideas came from how Ancient Greeks thought the love between man and man was the highest form of love. Each older man would have a young boy to teach and receive, ya know, "wisdom" *wink*wink*! Today, very pervy sounding - old man, little boy...creeeppppy!

The man-on-man love wasn't the funny part. Thats actually cool. Yay Gay Rights! Isn't America a democracy based on neoclassic tradition? Well, then. We should give homosexuals the right to get married. Highest form of love, hello!

The funny part was having my 60+ professor explain to us that Ancient Greeks thought small penises made for a more manly man! When did that tradition change? Also, in a male-dominant society I'm sure the women never got to say "Oh, sorry....I would like the big peen, thanks!"

And, with that, I giggled on the inside as this educated man explained how big peeners were considered "animalistic" and belonged to half-man half-goat people. Interesting. Hercules - tiny peener. Zeus - itty bitty thing. So, cheers to that I guess. How awkward is my life though? I would choose this course.

I should've just picked something tame like British Literature....I wonder what their thoughts are on size.

~The Lady~

Twilight on the Toilet

2009-10-27T07:08:00.000-07:00

This might be T.M.I, so stop if you are prudish....

For those who are notfaint of heart, the other day I was in the bathroom and, all of a sudden, I noted the distinct stare of a pair of eyes. I was ashamed, awkward and very worried as I realized whose glowing eyes stared back at me.

No, not Walter Cronkite or K.Stew! Robert, *sigh*, oh Robert. There he was, Robert Pattinson, staring at me in all his "messy" glory. I bought this magazine months ago and it found its way to the bathroom. I've read the articles about 65 times and, somehow, he was the top magazine, in the basket, aside the sink that stared at me whilst I was on the potty. I guess my Dad was interested in Robert's messy affairs, because I haven't brought this mag to the top in a long time.

Regardless, how shamed was I? Robert Pattinson had now seen me and my nether-regions! I would've apologized, if he hadn't been in the form of a magazine picture. Everytime something like this happens, I think of Harry Potter's world where pictures come to life. If that were true, how weird would it be for Robert to be, red-faced and awkward as ever, staring back at me in the loo. I imagined the conversation would go something like this:

Robert (all awkward and British): Oh, uh, sorry, uh, uh, uh, I'll just...(as he turns away).

Me (all awkward and American): Oh my all that is good and glorious!! ROBERT PATTINSON! It is an honor. I love your work.

Robert (trying to not look at my hoo-ha): Well, thanks, uh (runs fingers through his own hair 32 times just to make sure it doesn't look managed). Maybe you should, uh, uh, uh...

Me (realizing I am half-nude and compromised on the potty): OH MY GOSH! Silly me! So, how's your messy love life going?

Robert: Uh, uh, well, uh, (awkward laugh), uh, you know.

Things would end there, I hear Robert is quite shy, and I would awkwardly kiss his picture's face. He would be more awkward, run his hands through his hair 62 more times) and run out of the magazine cover leaving me only with K.Stew. who'd be saying something ridiculous that I'd have to decode later.

*Sigh*

If only our magazine covers came to life. Time to get a new magazine. Next up, Taylor Lautner (bow-chica-wow-wow).

To bathroom friends,

~The Lady~

Sick Realizations

2009-10-25T16:55:00.000-07:00

First and foremost, my day turned around greatly on Tuesday. I even got a whole new blouse for free! Thanks for your concern!

Secondly, now I am sick. Boo.

In this congested, sniffly-time I've been doing quite some over-the-counter-drug-induced thinking. My chest feels congested, my nose is stuffed and I cannot smell/taste. Clarity through the junk that my body is filled with is an interesting concept, but one I am growing to love/hate. I love that I have a clear mind, but I hate that I am sick. Anyway, here is the thought: no one else matters.

I've probably been jealous of others 85% of my life. I've feigned and pretended I was above it all, but I haven't been. I read things, I watch stuff and I languish in the materials, values and joys of others. I want her outfit, his car, her life and his skill. I want, I want and I want. I can't get enough of what others have.

It's time to empty it all out. It's time to stop wanting and focus on what I have, what I can give and who I am. No one else matters. No one's rules can take over my life so much that I ruin myself wanting, trying so much harder to reach some ideal of perfection that can't be reached. I want to make my own perfection.

So who am I?

I am messy, careless, sarcastic and rude.
I am anxious, excited and calm.
I am spiritual, thoughtful and emotional.
I am reflective, apologetic and forgetful
I am lazy, hard working and trying.
I am loving, frightened and kind.
I am so many things one blog can't express, one entry can't hold.

Who are you? Tell me a bit about you. In sharing, we may all find clarity, or not. At least, we'll get to talking about what really matters - ourselves and no one else.

Enjoy what you have & who you are :)
~The Lady~

Had a Bad Day

2009-10-20T06:54:00.000-07:00

"When life hands you lemonades, run home screaming in horror because even life is telling things are looking sour" - a Lady original piece.

9:37 a.m and this is already shaping up to be an epic-fail kind of day.

First of all, the Phillies played a fantastically exciting game until 12 last night. I am a Grandma in so many ways that staying up until 12 has now hit me hard. Staying up has hit me harder than a Suzuki hitting a defenseless woman crossing the street. I am feeling the pain.
My eyes are burning. A combination of "I need new contacts" and "I lack sleep" have turned into "I can't open my eyes properly.
My new blouse, out of the blue, decided that its sleeve would rip open. It was such a cute blouse. I have thrown out the receipt, and, thusly, will have to live with the rip. For the bones I spent on this bad-boy, I really deserve and entirely new shirt. SERIOUSLY. Look how cute it is! Thank the Lord I have this sweater to cover the holey-situation. RIP precious tunic top. You served me well. Alright, you served me for about an hour and then your seams pooped out on life.
I have a tummy ache. I just want to crawl into child's pose, drink some ginger-ale and call it a day.
A co-worker, who I don't really know well, walked by me and giggled as if I'd said something funny, but I hadn't. She then proceeded to giggle, correct herself and move on. I haven't moved on because I am fairly certain she was just laughing at me. Awesome.
Someone said to me the following dreaded phrase: "You look tired." Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Jeez. Saying someone "looks tired" encompasses so many insults. Not only do you look sleep-deprived, you have bags under your eyes proving this fact. Not only did you probably not get sleep, and feel generally crappy, your face, body and (ripped) outfit all prove the fact that you are a waste of life right now.
It's Tuesday. Not Friday. Not even close. I woke up thinking it was Thursday (who knows why) and was sadly mistaken.
Finally, the cafeteria is playing "PINK's greatest hits" - while I appreciate a good Pink song every now and again, 80 minutes of this has sent me, officially, over the deep end.

Lady, 0, Life 7.

Trying to make some lemonade out of life's lemons,

~The Lady~

Things I'm Good at...

2009-09-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a little training class called "Zumba" I've learned a startling fact about myself...

I can move like Beyonce.

Yes.

Pause yourself for a moment and think about that.

No, I'm not lying.

In class, I look like Beyonce here. Or is it more like this old lady? Maybe a cross between the two of them.

A woman today in class said "Damn! She can move" referring to me and my hips of wonder. Sure, I don't look like Beyonce, but when she plays a song I love I just can't stop my hips from doing things unmentionable, yet alone done in front of 20 other women. They just move fast-my hips that is. It is quite a wonder, even to myself. I may not be 100% coordinated, or quick, but when the instructor does that move that ladies do in rap videos, well, I can mimic it like no other.

Which brings me to my second talent, I'm a parrot. I can't speak other languages, but when I hear words or phrases I can surely repeat them back in a perfect accent. No lie.

I can also parrot people. I start to pick up their gestures and nervous ticks and I am able to exaggerate them. No lie. It's probably how I learned to speak & be a smart-ass at a very young age. Comedy-wise, it's been my saving grace for 24 years of life. My parroting has brought many a friend and an enemy. So be it. I am good at it.

So on this glorious Sunday I ask you-what can you do? What makes you unique? Do you have hurricane hips? Are you a mirror to others? Whatever it is, be proud of your accomplishments however seemingly weird they may be.

To hips of fury,

~The Lady~

Back-2-School

2009-09-07T15:24:00.000-07:00

Summer is over...

Bring on everything that is Autumn.

Back-2-School fun is much different, I imagine, for teachers of gradeschool. As I am a teacher of High School, Back-2-School sounds and feels like the following.

1. The stench of puberty, ie: stinky boys who don't know the word, nor use the product, that is deodorant.

2. The ringing of dirty language and words they wouldn't say in front of their Mamas. Or, maybe they would? Kids these days!

3. The look of depression and angst. God, I've missed that.

4. The amateur drawings of phallic symbols. Yes. This is my job.

5. The sound of the re-telling of fart jokes. How do I not laugh at them myself?

6. The humming of the excuse machine. "I didn't do my homework because I have my period." "Well, I didn't give you a good grade because I'm PMSing." (I never actually responded like this, but I did get this excuse).

7. The look of the kid who is too cool for school and, for that matter, life.

8. The stench of whiskey being passed in water-bottles.

9. The sight that is the "we don't get your joke" face. Ha ha ha! Anyone? ANYONE? Is this thing on? No? I'm corny? Oh, ok. Well....POP QUIZ! Ha. Joke is on YOU!

10. The sting of being disrespected.

11. The color of money (thank god for paychecks)

12. The sweet taste of accomplishment knowing that someone out there learned and used something you taught them (even if it was about how to take a good prom photo).

I'm too excited to sleep. Which means I'm too excited to get up. Mommy, can I stay home from school?

Ugh.

To a good Autumn & year. Here we go again!

~The Lady~

Hair Dye My Personality, Please <3

2009-08-26T12:50:00.000-07:00

I’m getting the itch to do it. You can’t stop me! I will, inevitably, come to the decision to end all decisions; will I change my hairstyle?

Three weeks ago I was dead set on bangs. I needed them. I pondered over them and I finally got them. I was so excited leading up to the inevitable cut, that I didn’t really think it through. So, now, I have curly bangs. They are alright—not good, not great, just alright. I should be flat-ironing them everyday (thanks, curly hair), but I’m not.

I’m over them.

Nevertheless, there is something in the process of changing hair color & style that makes me giddy. Even if it’s just briefly, the “I’m going to change my hair”and chatting about it with the hairstylist stages are always so much fun. It’s usually 4 or 5 months later, when I’m ready to start the process all over again, that my current hair become drab.

Why the obsession with hair changes? I think it stems from the personas that hairstyles/colors can take on. According to others, short hair makes me look more adult. While some would argue it makes me look more sassy. My long hair takes me back to high school & keeps me feeling young and alive. When I go blonde people are eager to ingeniously point out “Wow, you’re blonde!” Yes, yes I am! Thank you, I almost forgot. Much like Goldielocks sitting it the baby bear's chair & eating his porridge, I think the blonde fits my pinkish skin tone just right! But, that won't stop me. I'm a hair-changing maniac ready to reek havoc on my roots!

I hear two things when I dye my hair dark. One, “You look like your Mom” and two, “You’re pale!” While these aren’t compliments, I am getting to the days in which I wouldn’t mind dealing with the pale-Mom comments. I am going dark. Yes, like a vampire ((cue hissing)).

Why is it I change my hair when I know it looks better a certain way? Boredom. I change it because I want to feel spontaneous, a little stupid and different from myself for a bit. And, lets not tip-toe around the real reason here; I LOVE taking that ever so clever “My New Haircut” picture & posting it on Myspace, Facebook, TwitPic and Flickr! There isn't anything more gratifying then getting compliments on my new hair-do via the web!

Maybe this time, I’ll go RED! We’ll see about that. I might be hair-courageous, but I ain’t stupid!

To those of you who love switching it up all the time (and I don’t mean sexual partners), a toast to you!

~The Lady~

Wisdom from Grandma Ep.1

2009-08-20T16:26:00.000-07:00

The Beautiful Lady & Her Beautiful Readers

I've decided a new portion of this blog will be devoted to beauty tips. Sorry, SamFran. You may want to cover your eyes for this segment. Its not so much that I know everything about beauty its just that a like this stuff...a lot. I will also be devoting some of this blog to health tips I pick up here and there. I realized, I love jewelry, makeup & tips on how to look & feel great. With that, I am venturing into new territory. You will see occasional cameos from the lady herself. Yippee! Regardless, this is a new dawn for this blog. I'm just getting sick of talking about life's little observations & whining. So, some fun stuff, some whining, some celebrity B.S, & some jewelry! Yay for shiny things!

Wisdom from Grandma Episode #1 -

"Vaseline is good for everything that ails ya'" - Grandma Lady

My Grandmother had the best skin ever. She was 82 and looked 65. I attribute this to her "keep it simple, stupid" attitude when it came to beautifying herself. Recently, I've been on the Grandma regime of beautifying myself. And, wonder of wonders, its been working! Damn, Grandma! You were right! Here are some tips my Grandmother used to give me when I was young, naive and really into buying products I saw in Seventeen.

Vaseline: Grandma was dead on (no pun intended as Grandma is, bless her soul, dead) when it came to her use of Vaseline. Vaseline is my go-to drug. If I were an addict of anything it would be Vaseline. To make it even more awesome, the stuff is cheap. It's an easy and accessible drug! I don't really know what Vaseline is supposed to be used for, but here is how I use it to make me look Be-U-T-ful!

Lips -Vaseline ails chapped lips.Want soft lips? Coat the lips in Vaseline, grab an unused toothbrush (or one owned by someone you hate) and brush your lips. Yeah, I said it. Brush your lips for 30 seconds. Wipe off excess Vaseline and BAM! Super soft lips. Vaseline can also give you a brilliant shine with out the $10 lip gloss.

Eyes- No, do not put Vaseline IN your eyes, but Vaseline can help you enhance your eyelashes! Vaseline can give you softer less clumped eyelashes and, in time, help them grow thicker and longer. Dab a thin coating of Vaseline on top of eyelashes before you go to bed. When you're ready to put on mascara you will notice a considerable difference in how smoothly you can apply mascara. Soon, you will see considerable differences in the fullness of your lovely lashes. Need brows to stay in place? Small bit of Vaseline on the brows to keep them looking good. Have a nasty burn post eyebrow waxing? Vaseline does the trick! I don't suggest Vaseline for other more "southern" waxes, but I wouldn't put it past this wonder drug to help.

Makeup- Although I can't say I do this often, I know it works. Run out of lipstick, but happen to have Vaseline & eyeshadow on you (this could happen...who knows?)? Or, do you really like a shade of eyeshadow that would look great as a lipstick? Brush a light dusting of your fave eyeshadow on your lips. Dab Vaseline on top and, voila, you've got yourself a new shade. Beware of some eye shadows with chemicals that make this effect look clumpy. Remember the days when shiny eyeshadow was popular? Well, apply the same directions as for the lips to the eyes and you have that glimmered 1970s look

Remover- Removing makeup can be a bitch, but Vaseline will help you get it off AND (as said above) will help your eyelashes grow!

I don't lie! Vaseline does it all!

Warning: Use Vaseline in small doses. Take it from an addict, too much will make you look like a shiny mess. Also, too much Vaseline can clog the pores so don't go crazy. Everything in moderation my beautiful friends!

Thanks to Grandma,

~The Lady~

Work it Girl

2009-08-19T10:01:00.000-07:00

I'm revamping this bad-boy. Time to make it saucier than usual.

Things that are Funny
1. Sitting near a boss when trying to significantly procrastinate & search the web for bridesmaids dresses. Thank you, life.

2. Being grouped with a co-worker who knows she will be laid off in the Spring. Can you say bitter? Can you say I’ll be doing ALL the work?

3. Having an itchy butt. When is that ever NOT funny? Seriously, why does that happen? It’s not the internal (I know gross, right?), its just the exterior. Maybe it’s these cotton panties? All I know is scratching becomes a series of gyrations in the form of circling the buttocks on the chair. “Check out the freak in the back row! Why is she sitting like that? Why does she look like she’s humping the chair?”

4. Squirrels.

5. Spotting pre-teens who will, in their lifetime, play World of Warcraft, go to a Fluffy Convention and dabble in rejuvenating herbs.
Here are some of those pre-teens now:

6. Spotting people singing in their cars.

7. Being the person spotted singing in the car.

Things I Love
1. Wedding shows, websites, advice columns, blogs, twitter updates, news briefs, doctrines, magna cartas…YOU NAME IT – I will read, look, purchase and enjoy so long as it talks about color schemes and DIY favors. LOVE IT.

2. Gossip mags/blogs. Can’t get enough. Must keep reading about who Robert Pattinson is dating. Must find out where John Gosselin is laying his pipe these days. Must...keep...reading!

3. Twitter. Figuring out how to be clever & encapsulate my day all in 140 characters. It’s too much! Why don’t they make it 150 characters? I’d be REAL clever then!

4. Wawa coffee…24 oz, French Vanilla, splash of French Vanilla creamer, and the rest sugar/skim milk. Oui! Oui! Mon cherie!

5. Google images. This can also go into the “Funny” category. Go to Google images and type in "Owned" or "Funny" or "Ugly." Such simple words produce the funniest and most loveable results! Therein lies my point. LOVE IT!

~The Lady~

Love Looks Not With the Eyes

2009-08-12T07:44:00.001-07:00

Helena:"Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind."
A Midsummer Night's Dream (I, i, 234)

Much like a dieter, my enchantment with the new show More to Love had its ups and downs. One minute, I hated the show and all it stood for. The next minute, I loved every ridiculous second of forced romance & romantic theories that it threw in my face. What is my consensus? It’s ok and I will watch it again next week.

A show where the idea of being “big” and “plus sized” is exploited and worked into every second of the 1 hour Bachelor-esque concept seemed, at first, ridiculous. I couldn’t get over the whining, and I’m allowed to say whining as I am a plus-sized girl, that went on between the chubbettes.

“I’ve never had a date b/c I’m fat.”

“I never went to prom b/c I’m fat.”

“I’ve never had a second date because I’m fat,” said a girl who had clearly not reached the second date mark because of her oversized insanity & not her waistline.

I almost screamed at the T.V. a couple of times. Maybe, these things were closed off to you because you were too busy hating yourself more than anything! Don’t blame the fat—blame yourself!

It’s this type of self-loathing that I’ve never let myself fall prey to. I went to prom, I had awkward hook-ups and dates and I know just as many skinny girls who didn’t for many other reasons aside from their weight. Yet, this is what the show plays on—the insecurities of both big women and small women. You’re insecure, that’s why there were no dates, proms etc. There are millions of us insecure gals out there, just looking for love from guys who, sorry guys, don’t get it.
The point is, More to Love has caught my eye regardless of the overweight complaints. I want these girls to find love with their plus-sized guy. I want them to be happy and, with that, I watched eagerly wondering whom he’ll pick. Plus, the cattiness reigns supreme among the ladies which is always fun to watch.

I also like that fatties are getting a chance on the tube. It is pretty ridiculous that the only people, according to television & movies, that get any action are skinny-minis.

I heard a woman on the news say, "I don't want to watch fat people fall in love," and thusly decided she was a black-hearted cow.

Anyway, I just think we should feel better about ourselves. Look at how beautiful you are and wonder not what makes you repel guys, but what makes guys see you as something sexy!

To quote a somewhat obscure singer, Jesse James, from her song “Blue Jeans,”

“Don’t matter what ya wearin hey hey
Its about the way you wear it hey hey
Don’t matter what ya wearin hey hey
Its about the way ya hey hey
I step in my blue Jeans
Homewreck in my blue jeans
I got it from my momma so im blessed in my
Blue jeans”

Be blessed & feel good,

~The Lady~

Saucy

2009-07-07T08:07:00.000-07:00

Very quickly as I am vacationing in Greece still I present to you a slice of Greek life:

While riding the Metro, a very-American girl with her Greek boyfriend stand holding on to the pole that protects them from flying across the length of the train. The two look ruffled from a day at the beach. Sand and wind have forced the girl's hair into a ball of blonde-Brillo pad. After two weeks of riding the Metro, and understanding the psyche of the Greek woman, the very sun-strained American girl looks around at she, who will be known as, Greek Starer.

American Girl: Another one is staring.

Boyfriend: Just stare back

American Girl: I've tried that...they just keep scowling. Its not a quick American "we'll make fun of you later once you don't know it" stare. These women stare into my soul as if ready to break it.

American Girl stares back. Greek Starer holds her gaze, scowling and looking her up and down. American Girl exchanges a forced scowl and stares her opposition up and down. Greek Starer puts her eyes where they belong and looks out the window.

American Girl: Victory....

Boyfriend: She's staring again.

The two laugh, glance at the woman and continue to make fun of the tactless wonder sitting two feet away from them. At their stop American Girl, ballsy and brazen as ever wearing a perfect smile, waves to the Greek Starer whose eyes widen in fear. She looks away very quickly as if I, pardon me, American Girl had just threatened to take out her whole family ala "The Godfather."

Boyfriend(laughing heartily): I think she just shit herself. Victory.

Adding a bit of my country to their ancient one,

The Lady

I Hold the World but as the World

2009-06-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

Antonio:" I hold the world but as the world,
Gratiano,A stage where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one."The Merchant of Venice (I, i, 77-79)

Life Lessons
Things people don’t like, don’t want to do and aren’t attracted to:

No one wants to…

1. Read anything Longer than a Page: This occurs when it could have been condensed into a sentence. For some people, they don’t want to read anything longer than a paragraph or a couple of words. You might feel this way if you continue reading…that is your right and I agree with you.
2. Listen to Rambling: Much like #1, when you talk too much people tend to think you’re full of yourself and, likewise, full of hot air. Phrases like, “She likes to hear herself talk,” were born out of the mouths of these people. Cut it off. “KISS” should be a constant reminder to your hot-air balloon mouth; keep it simple stupid. Also, stay away from me at bars or at social events where I want to have fun and I don’t want to think of escape routes from your extensive tongue (this sounds sexy, but isn’t).

3.Feel Stupid: Hey, are you condescending? Maybe before you can answer that question you need to answer the following: Do you like to ‘teach’ people constantly? Do you say “hun, honey, doll-face, sweetheart” when addressing people who are your age or a bit younger? Do you always think of a better way people can be doing something? When no one is asking for criticism, do you give it? Does your shit not stink? If you answered yes to any of the above, guess what, no one likes you.

4. Be Attacked by Sarcasm that isn’t Sarcasm: The kind of sarcasm where a) it wasn’t funny, b) it was a true statement about a person, but you changed the intonation of your voice, and c) it came from a deep bitter place within yourself. Keep it to yourself.

5. Feel Poor: “I only drive BMW,” she/he says as you think about your beat-ass Toyota in the parking lot. “I only wear Banana Republic,” she/he says as your look at your Kohls shirt with the stain in the middle. “I only use MAC,” as your PC needs to be restarted for the 33rd time in one day. “I wouldn’t dare eat crap from a fast food restaurant,” she/he says as you throw out your BigMac. “I only drink top-shelf alcohol,” he/she says as your slurp your $1 Miller. Who are these people? Where does their money come from? Why do I need to hear their valuable knowledge about being a materialistic a-hole? On top of that, why do I care? If I choose to fill my body with cheap food & drinks, dress it in cheap clothes and drive off in my cheap car (whilst twittering on my cheap PC), why do I need to hear doctrines on living the high-life?

6. Recieve Too Much Information: Yes, it was too much information. No, we don’t care about your sex life. Yes, it’s great that you are so “kinky.” No, I don’t want to think about you in that position. No, talking about this stuff doesn’t make you more attractive, it makes you more desperate for attention then I had originally thought.

7. Hang out with Debbie & Donny Downer: Starting with a sad story of your life doesn’t make people want to be your friend, it makes them pity you. Continuing to only tell sad stories about how awful your life is will only push people further away. People like happiness. They like to feel happy and they like the people around them to make them happy. Sure, we all have moments. Regardless, constantly being sad-sac doesn’t make anyone say, “Damn, I just wish I could hang out with that sad person all the time!”

8. Hang out with Negative Nancy & Ned: Going right along with #7, this couple makes everything ten times harder. Nothing will ever go right in their world and being around them only brings you down. These people are so absurdly negative that, at times, I laugh at them. Do you live in a war-town country? Are you oppressed, lobotomized, or isolated on a regular basis? What could have possibly happened to you that everything, in your mind, will end in with a wallop of bird-crap? Maybe the first step is to cheer up, look on the bright side and things might, just might, go better! Or you could hang out with Debbie/Donny Downer and have a depressing party.

9. Check out your Metaphors & your Big Words: Just because you know what a “paradigm” is doesn’t mean you need to throw it around like some dazzling emphasis of how “smart” you are. You’re only going to slow down the conversation and distract everyone from your original intent by making them feel stupid. Or was that what you wanted? Likewise, save the metaphorical conversation for a day when people care about how clever you are (*this day won’t actually come*).

10. Question your Real Age: This type of person/characteristic can go two ways; acting below your age or far above your own age. Listen, if you’re still worrying about events taking place at your high school, step out of your comfort zone and recognize “Hell, I’m 28 years old and I should get a life!” Likewise, if you’re busy making others feel stupid (refer to #3) because you’re so much more mature (you probably drop the big words too) you should probably stop yourself before everyone you care about realizes you’re an asshole.

11. Be Lied to: When the lies become greater than the person you really are you will surely lie yourself into a hole. No one is as great as you pretend you are. No one has such elaborate stories. No one believes a word you say. Just stop.

12. Tactless Wonder - Stop telling people, "Well, I'm opinionated and thats just who I am." You're not nice. Its not about having an opinion, its about whether or not that opinion is hurtful and useless. Common sense and kindergarten lessons are what you really need. Maybe there you'll learn wherey ou can stick your "opinions."
13. I'm Always Right- No. You're not. Call it a day, go home, think about life and get over yourself. Listen to others sometimes and you might hear how wrong you really are.

I know I went against most of these in writing a lengthy, condescending piece in which I used big words and metaphors, the point is I notice this stuff daily. I notice how one person’s behavior can bring down another person’s self-esteem in about a second. I observe the unskilled behaviors of so many people that sometimes I just want to scream. There will be no end to this stuff, but sometimes it feels good to call these people assholes even if its in a blog that no one reads.

Peace, love, optimism and NOT being a d-bag.

~The Lady~

To Rudy

2009-06-04T11:00:00.000-07:00

Since Saturday morning I have been thinking to myself “Who gets so upset over a dog?” In the past few days, while receiving the love and kindness of coworkers, friends & family I’ve realized a lot of people get so upset over a dog. I’ve seen grown men cry, strangers tear up and people consoling me with understanding eyes. I’ve heard people say “Pets are like family members,” and my cynicism takes over. “No,” I think, “pets are animals. That’s it, just animals.” Well, if that were the case I would not be writing this blog.

I won’t pretend that I’m “over it,” but I am slowly recouping from the trauma of losing a bad dog. He was bad. He chased birds, he ate the trash and he was a lousy guard dog. He was afraid of everything—especially squirt bottles which he would be threatened with while he barked at birds and did loop-de-loops around the house. I would come home to his piercing screeches of “I NEED TO GO OUT NOW” and I was awoken by him on more than 1,000 Saturday mornings. He ate off plates unattended and he would get “rough” when playing with the other smaller dogs. He had sad eyes that stared you down when he had jumped into your seat and growled for its ownership. He shed his red hair in every area of the house. He climbed couches, made holes in furniture and scratched the shit out of the windowsills.

He left his mark in every room. Now that he’s gone, these are all the reminders we have of him. Some of the reminders we hold onto are the noises, the annoyances and the things that once made us scream his name. Now, we wish we had those moments back.

Much like when a young person dies, saying good-bye to a young dog is hard. He was 6 and had a heart-attack; probably from the stress that life had put on him, but I guess we’ll never know. We got him from the NBC 10 show where they promote adopting from the SPCA. Someone had, most likely, abandoned him & abused him. They showed him off as "Shamus" a skinny pure-bred that, as a 1-year-old, looked like life had not treated him kindly. We hit the doggy lotto; an Irish Setter for free! He was a bad dog. He was timid and gangly when we first got him. He was my replacement. I moved out to college, Rudy (previously known as Shamus) was the new member of the house.

We’ve been able to console ourselves with the stories of his life. The time he ran away and I lured him into the house with a slice of pizza, or that time he almost ate a bird which sent my mother and I into hysterics. Then there was the last time I saw him when he, instead of screeching as I entered the house, jumped up on his back legs and hugged me in the best way a dog can. I wish I could hear him screech again, something I thought I would never say.

So this is my eulogy for Rudy; a bad dog who I will miss more than I realized.

The Lady

A Lean and Hungry Look

2009-05-25T17:27:00.000-07:00

Caesar:

Let me have men about me that are fat,

Sleek-headed men and such as sleep a-nights.

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look,

He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

Julius Caesar Act 1, scene 2, 190–195

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. When life hands you school-loans, wish you had taken those lemons and made them into dinner, a new fancy drink, decorative earrings and an entire outfit.

I am not claiming poverty, and I count my lucky stars every night before I go to sleep, but I have resolved to be more stingy in many areas of my life. Likewise, I’ve noticed the correlation between being a “fat ass” and being a “broke ass.”

With the recent economic—how do you say—ah, yes, shit-show of 2009, I thought it was time I joined the bandwagon of saving some cash. So here are my sure bet ways to save some money & lose weight in 2009. Copyright “The Lady”

1. Eat cardboard instead of expensive fat-free crackers (which taste like cardboard). Cardboard is made of paper, which is made of trees, which means I’d be recycling AND losing weight. I’d take “Going Green” to a new level of insanity. Wow, between dieting, the recession and going green I’d really hit 3-fads in 1. I am awesome.

2. Don’t travel…anywhere. If I don’t go anywhere I won’t need gas (saving $). If I don’t go anywhere I can’t buy food that will make me fat (no more fatty). If I don’t go anywhere I won’t have friends, which means I won’t have friends who have birthdays, which means I won’t have to buy anything for anyone (saving $$$).

3. No more gym! There goes that 50 bucks a month. I can work my triceps and biceps curling my remote control! I can also walk to work to save money on gas. Walking to work is a good 25 miles, so that’s like 6,000 calories! I’ll have to leave at 1 am for my 7:30 job, but it will be well worth it as I lose calories and gain cash! Ca-CHING!

4. Pack lunches for work filled with the best stuff on Earth; love! When a co-worker asks, “Hey, what are you having for lunch?” I’ll tell them proudly, “just a bag of love!” When they ask if they can have some, I will tell them “yes” as there is enough to go around. They will ask me, “where is the love” and I will tell them “love is all they need.” When my love-lunch gives them indigestion then I will remind my co-worker that “love is a battlefield” and “love hurts.” I think you get the point….BUT I’M NOT FINISHED…When my co-worker tells me they have loose stool I will remind them that “love, love will keep us together” because, I know for a fact, love is full of fiber! Too much? I think so.

5. I will save money by eating grass and tree leaves. If my Shih-Tzu can get away with it why can’t I? I will lose the pounds by starting the tree-leaf diet. This eating habit, plus the 25 mile walk, will surely do the trick (or kill me, I’ve not decided which). Also, I'm pretty sure my Shih-Tzu vomits everytime she eats grass or leaves....I won't go there though.

6. I will sell millions of copies of my “Purse and Food Diet” book and motivational tapes. I will make tons of money off the book, promotions and “The Lady” action figure. Celebrities will promote my diet and, soon enough, it will be a fad all on its own. With that, I won’t need to starve my pocketbook any longer and will buy a mansion, BMW and a pool filled with JELLO Pudding. Mmm, pudding! Just kidding, make that a pool filled with whipped cream! Mmm, whipped cream! Forget it all – A POOL OF ICE CREAM! Mmm, ice cream!

Off to eat my face in ice cream (that cost $3.99)! I guess this Lady's diet will just have to wait for another day.

Love and donuts,

The Lady

In Action How Like a God

2009-05-18T10:04:00.000-07:00

Rosencrantz: My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. Hamlet Act 2, scene 2, 303–312

I’ve found my way back home and I am ready to vent. Where to start?

I have been a fan of TLC’s John and Kate+ Eight for the past year. With that, the recent news of his alleged discretions has hit me hard. How could he abandon us like that? How could he do something so hurtful? With those questions, I hear the justification of “well, she’s such a bitch to him that he should cheat on her.” That is where my eye begins to twitch with fury; and when my eye starts twitching best to clear out of my way.

The point is, I don’t care how awful you are to someone you don’t deserve to be cheated on. Plus, and let me get on my feminist soapbox, just because she is a hard-nosed, organized, ball-busting female that doesn’t make her a bitch. How does her personality make her a bitch who should be cheated on? What rational world do we live in if bitch = deserved to be punished by the man you married? Where in most cases I feel “bitches get stitches” I would never stoop so low to say “she’s annoying, CHEAT ON HER!”

Sure, I think she’s nuts for having 8 kids, but I think she is the only person who could handle it. You have to be a bit of a bitchy-wacko to take care of 8 children. Not too much of a wacko though ie: OctoMom (a story for another entry).

I don’t get why she’s a “bitch” and he’s such a martyr for putting up with her. The woman birthed 8 babies (6 in one shot) for this man. As anyone who watches the show has seen, that took a toll on her body; if my stomach stretched that far out, filled with human beings, I would vomit at my own reflection. She looked like a skin mini-van of John’s spawn. Wow, that is gross. Hold on…I need a minute to compose myself.

Anyway, she takes care of them daily while he is at work. She gave up her job to run the household in which her major conversations are with 3 year-olds. As a long-time babysitter, I know how hard it can be to only talk to youngins’ all day. By the time your day is through, you’d be a bitch too. Plus, you’d be making Dora the Explorer references and really lame jokes about baby-wipes and sippy cups. She cleans up pee, puke, poop and other nastiness that would make me gag. That’s a hard task when the liquids are coming out of one child let alone 8 at once. That’s like a puking, peeing, pooping monster. Wow, that is gross. Hold on…I need a minute to compose myself again.

Why does she do it—because she loves them and her husband.

No one deserves the trust of the person they love to be thrown away like some diaper. Sure, she might be nasty, but she hasn’t earned the right to be cheated on. Even the nastiest of ladies I know should be honored by their men (but reap the pain of my angry twitching EYE!).

(Hops off of feminist soap-box)
~The Lady~

2008-07-18T07:49:00.000-07:00

the lady has left the blogger....

go to http://theladydothprotest.wordpress.com/ to find her.

adieu, blogger...adieu!

~The Lady~

That Man That Hath a Tongue, I Say is No Man

2008-07-03T11:22:00.000-07:00

Iago:I have profess'd me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness. I could never betterstead thee than now.
Put money in thy purse; follow thou thewars; defeat thy favor with an usurp'd beard.
I say put money inthy purse.
It cannot be long that Desdemona should continue her love to the Moor
—put money in thy purse—nor he his to her.
-Othello Act 1, scene 3, 336–344

In the years of my relatively short life, someone drilled into my brain that those who are good will reap the benefits of their virtue. Someone, somewhere along the lines made me feel that being a kind soul would make me the beneficiary of good things. Surely I recognize the many blessings of my life, but to hear the Rush Limbaugh will be making $38 million for the next 6 years of his life makes me question the concept of good vs. evil.
It’s the universal theme, right? Good beats evil in an epic final scene.

Then, here it is in cold Times New Roman font, Rush Limbaugh to receive signing bonus and $38 million over the next six years to continue his radio show. This is a man who has made racist comments, lies for the benefit of our leaders and panders to his audience as much as that monkey I saw the other day dancing for quarters as some jerk cranked a victrola. How does this type of man receive praise? How can this type of political monkey be making so much change?

Now, I know he has millions of fans but what I don’t get is how? How do 600 radio stations and 14 million people listen to him for 3 hours a day? How do we Americans applaud someone who spouts morals and has none? My concern is that millions of Americans agree with his babble of anti-humanity speeches and can listen to him preach day in and day out.

If I am humble, kind and love others shouldn’t I be receiving some financial compensation? That’s what I was taught. I understand my Christian/Western beliefs are pouring out of me at this moment, yet in all my studies I don’t remember any other culture that praises assholes. If that were true, there would be a lot more novels, songs, poems and movies in which the main character is an asshole who gets $38 million a year for being said asshole.

Americans don’t like the “top-dog.” We root for Rocky (no matter how old he is and how many face-lifts he’s had), we root for Rudy and, clearly, we root for Underdog (did anyone see that movie?). Here and there we have the tragic hero ala Ethan Frome and John Proctor of The Crucible. Yet, even those characters show signs of righteousness and repentance that, I’m gathering, Rush doesn’t. Why should he feel sorry; he’s making millions off his proud commentaries and *spoiler alert* Procter and Frome don’t have it nearly as good in the end.

He calls Americans “anti-patriotists,” he distorts the words of others and he uses Oxycontin habitually.

Evil has won…show him the money.

Happy 4th of July,

~The Lady~

Who Steals My Purse Steals Trash

2008-06-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

"Who steals my purse steals trash;

'tis something, nothing;'

Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;

But he that filches from me my good name

Robs me of that which not enriches him,

And makes me poor indeed."Othello Act 3, scene 3, 155–161

I have never understood the need for joke-stealing. Its the age-old story of back-stabbing and two timing that no one ever speaks of because they will seem petty. I have never held back on this blog and I will not stop today!

There you are at a casual dinner party (or raucous beer fest, take your pick) and you make a quiet joke. Your "friend" next to you hears how funny it is, repeats it at a louder decibal, and becomes the man/lady of the hour--the joker of the evening, the grand Puuba of Funny. Everyone loves him/her and you are just the quiet moron he/she brought along for his/her ride of comedy. You drink more and keep asking yourself, "Why didnt I say that louder? How can I make them know I'M THE FUNNY ONE!" You cant. You drink more, and while your friend basks in the glory of his/her comedic genius, you're table dancing your pain away and making out with everyone in the room. Age-old story in which I have seen and been apart. I ask you, WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN!?

The alternate joke-stealer is the guy in your cubicle who you use one of your finest jokes on. He laughs, he thinks its funny. In fact, he thinks its so funny he just happens to use your joke, plus his slanted smile, on your boss. The boss laughs and Joe-Creeper becomes #1 Intern. You, in turn, become Intern #2 who couldnt make a baby laugh at some keys shaking in their face. You can't go back in time and reserve your humor for the boss, you can't beat the crap out of Joe-Creeper and you can't hide the fury that burns within you for this joke stealer. He told the joke to the right person at the right time and you are nothing but an intern. Cry yourself to sleep, but make sure you seek revenge always on Joe-Creeper.

Sometimes, in worse situations, its not just jokes but full ideas. Complete ideas in which you created are credited to some jerk who was slick enough to give him/herself the credit to the right people. I have had such ideas stolen from me. They were brilliant gorgeously crafted ideas. The ideas turned into reality and I felt proud for my blossoming creativity. My problem; I crafted them with a shifty son-of-a-monkey who in turn pretended he crafted them on his own. My creation was his and his creation was mine. I was left looking, once again, like the drunk moron dancing on the age old table of life waiting for the shifty-son-of-a-monkey to recognize me. He never did. I can't go back and claim those ideas as my own; it would seem petty now.

However, I will say it takes a different breed of human to not only accept someone elses' jokes, or ideas, but to take owernship and pride in them. All of the above thieves have not only stolen, but claimed and revelled in ideas in which they took. It takes no conscious, giant testicles and a cold-heart to feel you have the right to something someone else produced. Its plagiarism in a verbal manner. If I took everything off Wikipedia, tacked it into my paper and then showed my paper off to other students shouting "HA! I'M BRILLIANT" wouldn't I seem like an idiot? Than why, why do we let joke stealers slide? How come we dont scream "I JUST SAID THAT! YOU JUST SAID IT LOUDER!" Why do we hide and blame ourselves?

Deep down, its because we know we'll make 1,000,000 more jokes, or come up with 1,000,000 more ideas, and the thief will be riding the one they stole from you for years.

To honesty and to good jokes,

~The Lady~

To Flaming Youth

2008-06-12T09:44:00.000-07:00

Hamlet:

O shame, where is thy blush?

Rebellious hell,

If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,

To flaming youth let virtue be as wax

And melt in her own fire. Hamlet Act 3, scene 4, 81–85

I do not do well in heat. My body, my hair, and my overall being just don’t match up with overly hot and humid weather. If I were a can of hairspray, I would be highly flammable. If I were a dog, I would get overheated easily. If I were a homosexual, I would be of the flaming variety. I just don’t do well in the heat. Granted, neither do old people nor children locked in small cars but I don’t hear them complaining. Which brings me to my top ten list: Top Ten Things to do When the Weather is Scorching Hot.

10. Run around in the sprinkler…that your neighbor puts on even during the drought. Scream and yell in your bathing suit as you jump through the crisp cold sprinkler squirts. When your neighbor reprimands you, tell him you’re with the Sprinkler Control and that he cares more for his grass than the environment. Then run away, with your arms flailing, screaming “SPRINKLER CONTROL” whilst making siren noises.

9. Eat water ice…that you’ve stolen from a small child—preferably a toddler. The smaller their hands the easier to steal from them (this is a well known fact documented in the Encyclopedia of Being a Bad Person).

8. Turn on your air conditioner…to 20 degrees. Pull out your parka and tack an “Eskimo Home” sign on your front door. All the neighbors will be jealous when you get hypothermia.

7. Go to the beach…and pretend you’re a beached whale. People will try desperately to cool you off with buckets of water and throw you back. Plus, the news crews will be all over this nautical event.

6. Go the pool…and pretend you’re drowning. If for nothing else you’ll get a free hookup with a lifeguard (at least that’s what “The Sandlot” and “Baywatch” have taught me).

5. Drink water…gallons of it, until you die from Water-Poisoning. Can you say poster-child for hydration?

4. Wear 35+ sun block…and a visor, carry an umbrella, wear gloves, a turbin and footy pajamas (just to be safe). If the sun hits your skin scream “UVA EQUALS DEATH” and run into the shade as quickly as possible.

3. Lounge in a pool….of ice cubes. Feel the tingle of cooling down.

2. Wear deodorant…on every bit of your body that sweats (ie: anywhere that has a pore of some sort). Nobody likes a hot-stinker so make sure you buy surplus deodorant. Only you can prevent hot sticky messes!

And the number one way to stay cool in the Summer….

1. Read this blog. Are you reading this blog? Well, you’re already cooler than you were when you weren’t reading this blog! Is this a shameless play on words? Yes. Are you cool? Yes. Any complaints? I didn’t think so.

Keep cool (the catch phrase of the month heard from the mouths of everyone I pass).

~The Lady~

If Music be the Food of Love

2008-06-04T11:13:00.000-07:00

"The man that hath no music in himself,Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."
- The Merchant of Venice (V, i, 83-85)

A sentimental fool is this lady that I claim to be, crumbling beneath the beautiful lyrics on an old dejected IPOD and a song that had meant so much in a time that shouldn’t be forgot but, was.

The Ipod is a part of the technological age so shouldn't it be cold and unwelcoming? How could it create such an emotional response as say, a poem. Yet, as this lady reclaimed its songs, their past meanings and all the heart-ache that came with these songs resurfaced and grabbed hold of the place it had left alone for years—her heart.

Then she heard it. It was her song from a time passed. It was that song she played every morning to wake her, every afternoon to keep her sane and every night so she wouldn't feel lonely.

It starts with a voice and a guitar. Simple and yet complete. Words so clear and commanding they fill up the soul like the creek nearby that fills after a good rain. Very early on, the song reminds her of the days when she needed this song to push her through the place in herself in which she was stuck.

In that time, things had become different, strange and awkward. Things that once were, had disappeared with their cool even smiles and their laughter. Friends that once were vanished into a darkness that she could not find. She searched but they had left everything behind—they had left her. The music brought them back. They were there, smiling their cool even smiles and talking about forever. That kind of forever resonated and vanished with each chord strum by the guitar.

This song had seen her through the dark hole they had led her to—left her to. She was in it, alone and wondering when life would start again. How could she breathe without them and the things she had hoped would garner her better memories and happier times? When would life start? She hadn’t realized it had started while she was stuck in a hole she had created for herself. Comfortable in her discontent she stayed there, sweltering in her own disappointments. She was too busy waiting for them to come back to realize life was all around her—closing in like a warm blanket in the winter waiting for her to feel its comfort.

As the disgust of these feelings surge within her, the bongos kick into the melody bringing her back to the present. The singers' voice grows stronger. Guitar-voice-bongos; a combination she hadn’t remembered, yet the song still reflected her heartbeat and the surge of life it made her feel.

Then the drums, loud and boisterous added a complete circle to the lyrics and the message swirling, whirling as quickly as her memories. One by one the memories come, infringing on her peaceful thoughts and reminding her of every bit of every battle, every milestone, every tear, every drink, every moment, every smile, every embarrassment, every laugh, and every ache, every everything. Everything fills her heavy heart. Everything is swirling, whirling as quickly as the beat of the drums, the bongos and the guitar.

“Life is wonderful, life goes full circle, life is wonderful.” The “la-las” in between make the song reach to her even further. So simple and so clear they chant to her and lull her back from the sadness as they had once before.

Her eyes widen and a piano comes in playing simple keys she doesn’t know the names of. The keys pound into the soft part of her soul that she hadn’t revealed to anyone. Its that tender section of oneself that only a lover, a friend or a confidant can release. Yet, there it was being exposed by the keys of a piano.
She hasn’t heard the words in years. She has avoided coming back to the song that had once meant so much. What did it mean now? Could it mean as much as it did then?

It meant even more than before. It meant life, cycles, renewal, rebirth, and a reconnection with her old self to find her anew. This song was the glow of the morning sun without the promise ofthe sunset. It was the thought of life without fear of death, and courage without the fear of failure. This song meant everything. This song means everything. This song is her in the form of lyrics, a guitar, bongos, drums and a piano. It is hers and no one else’s unless they need it for a time. She would share it only for those who are stuck hard and unaware of what lies within them.

She would share her song because it was her and it was powerful.
~The Lady~

"Life is Wonderful" -Jason Mraz

It takes a crane to build a crane

It takes two floors to make a story

It takes an egg to make a hen

It takes a hen to make an egg

There is no end to what I'm saying

It takes a thought to make a word

And it takes some words to make an action

And it takes some work to make it work

It takes some good to make it hurt

It takes some bad for satisfaction

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la la life goes full circle

Ah la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la

It takes a night to make it dawn

And it takes a day to make you yawn brother

And it takes some old to make you young

It takes some cold to know the sun

It takes the one to have the other

And it takes no time to fall in love

But it takes you years to know what love is

And it takes some fears to make you trust

It takes some tears to make it rust

It takes the dust to HAVE it polished

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la la life goes full circle

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la

It takes some silence to make sound

And it takes a loss before you found it

And it takes a road to go nowhere

It takes a toll to make you care

It takes a hole to MAKE a mountain

Ah la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la life goes full circle

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la life is meaningful

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la life is meaningful

Ah la la la la la la life is full of

Ah la la la la la life is so full of love

Ah la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la la life is meaningful

Ah la la la la la life is full of

Ah la la la la la life is so full of love...

A Stop of Wine, Mistress Maria

2008-06-01T15:55:00.000-07:00

"Dost thou think because thou art virtuous

there shall be no more cakes and ale?"

-Sir Toby, "Twelfth Night"

Lately, there is nothing in this world I love more than my boyfriend. I mean, I've loved him since the day he stalked me on campus but, recently he has become someone that I love more than anything. After the many internal understanding that he might read this blog and, subsequently, he would learn of my love of the many celebrities I call boyfriends #2-#30, he read this very blog. Although I try not to disclose too much about myself on this, I will say that my boyfriend laughed at my posts. It was more rewarding than a paycheck on payday. Its one thing to have one or two avid readers but to have someone who knows you better than anyone else laugh outloud at your writing feels nice. It feels just as nice as birthday cake and a glass of wine.

Recently, a good friend of mine celebrated her birthday. As I have become a big fan of cake, and it was a birthday, I decided to pick one up for the lovely 20 year old. As the party of friends drank and was merry, we decided to cut the cake. Someone decided the cake slices would be as big as our faces and, thusly, we all got diabetes that night. The cake might have been delicious but, our plates were piled high with large slices and the sugar comas were abundant. As I washed it down with a fresh glass of Franzia's Sunset Blush,I realized how much I love wine, cake and my boyfriend.

My father called me a wino. In my defense, my father joined a wine of the month club for two months. It was the most wonderful months of my life. As we ripped through the packaging of our fresh box of 12 different wines I exclaimed, "Father, this is the best decision you have ever made." Second only to having (and keeping) me as a daughter, the wine-of-the-month was a fabulous idea for my Dad to come up with on his own. Each month, we recieved all types of delicious wines from all over the world. Shiraz from Australia, Cabernet from Italy, and Pinot from California delighted me every time we opened up the monthly box. Then, my mother found out about how much the wine of the month was costing and cut short our wine-loving livelihood.

The boxes stopped arriving at our doorstep. A 21-year-old didn't have to be present to sign for that precious box. The clouds loomed and God stopped smiling in the days to follow. Since then, Papa has hoarded every remaining wine from his club. Each time I secretly steal or open one he catches me, calls me a wino and reminds me that hes running low. I still steal them because--as he informed me--I'm a wino. I don't discriminate either. Boxed wine is the gift that keeps on giving. Whoever thought that 1 bottle of wine couldn't beat 5 liters is someone I must thank profusely. The boxed wine creators got me through my junior year of college. The boxed wine creators also created a reasonably priced way to pretend I was elegant whilst getting shitfaced. I'll pretty much drink cooking wine if it hits the spot. Next up, pure vinegar. And, with all that classiness bottled into one lady, my boyfriend still loves me for who I am.

Its also my boyfriend's fault that I've become obsessed with cake. His family has the most delicious cakes at his house all the time. I was never a true lover of cake until his birthday in which I ate my own slice and then asked the fattest question of his brother, "Are you going to finish that?" The lovely boyfriend and I also watched a cake contest on the Food Network for an entire afternoon (be jealous of our invigorating lifestyle) and it made me want to eat every cake that was ever made. There are so many sweet adittions to my life since I've met him and different cakes, and my new appreciation for cake has just been the sweet icing to our love. Also, we play Mario Party together and this pictures is the best cake for a couple with such nerdy inclinations.

To sum it all together. My boyfriend is a wonderful person who loves me for everything I am and every weird nuance I have.

All we need is love, let us drink and be merry, and let them eat cake!

~The Lady~

(this is a cake topper...that I love)

The Whirligig of Time

2008-05-10T05:27:00.000-07:00

" 'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad." But do you remember?"Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? And you smilenot, he's gagg'd." - Twelfth Night

It started with "Drive Me Crazy" starring Melissa Joan Hart (of "Clarissa Explains it All" and "Sabrina" fame) and Adrien Grenier (my boyfriend).

The whirligig of time has flipped me from being too busy to sleep, to too busy not to sleep in. Since I have had more time to myself I've taken to watching everything On-Demand and there are ALOT of choices for me. Although some of my choices have been crap-tastic, they have really done the trick at making my mind escape life's duldrums.

"Drive Me Crazy" is a pretty terrible movie from the late 90s. Although the plot, characters, and general acting is terrible there is one sexy man (who now works on some small HBO show Entorage). Adrien Grenier stars as the sexy "weird" lead male who Melissa Joan Hart turns cool. I love ever sexy second of his sexy performance. With that, I watched it twice in the matter of a week. Don't judge me for this, just watch as his sexy curly locks dangle sexily across his sexy forehead near his sexy blue eyes that look at me, I mean Melissa Joan Hart, in a sexy way...sex.

Then it happened that "Don't Tell Mom the Babysitters Dead" was on Showtime. I got lost in nostalgia as this was a film that I used to watch with my brother when I was 7. I also thought the clothes in it were so "radical." In retrospect, what a fashion disaster the early-90s were. What a great movie. Christina Applegate, who I still think is pretty funny, is a lot younger. Also, the pot-head brother, terribly bitchy receptionist, and ridiculous plot still resignate as an awesome early 90s flick. Also, a young pre-X Files David Duchovony was the villanious sleeze-ball. If you're my age, I suggest watching this film to

The movie fun didn't stop there! I searched "Romance" and found a James McAvoy flick called "Starter for 10." What a delightful British romp. James McAvoy proves to me, time and time again, that he is a dynamic actor...and is my other boyfriend (sorry, Adrien). He can be funny and then cry in the matter of seconds. In fact, he cries ALOT. He cries more than me and I was once called a "Weeping Willow Tree" by a close friend. Anyway, if McAvoy and I married it would be tears all the time. He made me cry with his performance in "Becoming Jane." He cried, I cried, there was a flood. In "Starter for 10" his comedic timing and acting is superb. Plus, there is something so sweet about his face that endears me to all his performances. The film was decent but without McAvoy it would be nothing. He holds it up with his comedy and dramatics. There are some other key characters, a pretty interesting story-line, and romance & laughter. Yay for random British flicks and thank you On-Demand for letting me indulge my chick-flick-ness.

On the James McAvoy kick, I forced my parents to let me buy pay-per-view "Atonement." I'm still mulling over that film. Although it can compare to the caliber of "Drive Me Crazy" it was quite a beautifully done movie. Its one of those films that long after I am still thinking about it. Once again, McAvoy rocks my world as an actor. Keira Knightley proved herself as more dynamic than just the Pirates series. I knew, as we were hitting the "BUY" button that this was going to be one of those epic films where it takes twenty minutes to move from one scene to the next. I was correct in my assumptions. If you subtracted most of the beautifully cinematic moments the movie probably could have been done in 40 minutes. I assume it wouldn't be as good if I directed it. "Atonement" made me want to read the book and, at the same time, avoid the book entirely. If you've seen the movie you might know what I'm talking about. I don't like being a spoiler so I am going to change the topic now.

Let me put it out there:
Mr. Tumus, from "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe" although part man, and part donkey, is sexy. Anyone else? Anyone? No? I'm all alone on this one. Ok, well, leave Tumnus to me. Also, I'm excited for "Prince Caspian" but pretty sure Tumnus is dead (because the series fast-fowards 3000 years or something). Maybe McAvoy is too busy these days for the kids and the wardrobe. Too busy....in my bed!

I'm going to leave you now as this has turned into one big sexual innuendo.

To film-viewing and having as many boyfriends as I can find On-Demand!

~The Lady~

Must Be to Loathe Her

2008-04-15T17:13:00.000-07:00

"She's gone. I am abus'd, and my relief
Must be to loathe her." -Othello

I was trying to sort out what to write here whence I came across this quote and was reminded of something in which I can't stand. It, in itself, is one of the most loathesome of things on this planet. I cannot go another second without venting about this, the worst of all imaginable imaginables....annoying females. They are not ladies, they are not women, they are The Annoying Females.

Now, there are a number of categories of The Annoying Female in which I loathe (much like Othello). With that, this will be one of those posts in which I list and label. It just needs to be done so we can spread my cause and bring awareness to all.

The Annoying Female Skirt-Liftin'-Ho:
I'm fed up with girls who flirt for no reason, with anything or anyone. They are the biggest attention whores (and I dont say either of those words lightly). They feed on the attention of males and, if they are males with girlfriends, the Skirt-Liftin'-Ho feels more in the need to seek the male's attention. You can usually hear these annoying females saying something like:
"Oh, (insert name of someone elses' boyfriend) did we just play footsey!"
Or, "(insert name of your boyfriend), you're just the sweetest. I wish I was as lucky as (insert your name here)!"
Or, while pouting, "I'm so lonely. Can I have a hug," which is obviously directed at someone elses' boyfriend.

At this point, the real girlfriend in the situation has flames coming out of every orifice as she suppresses the rage that comes with this interaction. Said girlfriend is also in a bit of pickle not wanting to comment to the boyfriend, who will think she is being mean to Skirt-Liftin'-Ho, irrational, and a bit overprotective. Here in lies the problem, men think we're crazy when we comment on these types of selfish bottom-feeders. The Skirt-Liftin'-Ho desires so much attention, so much love, and so much affection from other people's boyfriends that the boyfriends, in turn, feel sorry for them. Some guys are just nice, these men don't see the devious deceitful-ho-ness of these men stealers. Other guys, well they fall for the sluts and leave their significant others' and realize, only too late, they are with an Annoying Female only too late.

There are only so many things I would love to do to this type of female. When it comes to these females the only emotion I have for them is loathing; complete, utter, unrestrained and undeniable loathing.

The Annoying Soon-to-Be Mrs. Female

For most, I am happy to see someone has become engaged. Its nice to congratulate them and talk shop about the wedding to come. Then, there is the "Soon-to-be-Mrs-Female." Recently I encountered the most extreme of these females. She regaled me with the details of the wedding and repeatedly referred to her boyfriend, who was standing there at the time, as "my fiance." He no longer had a first name, he had become "my fiance" in all aspects of the phrase. This girl's hands were so tightly wrapped round' his balls that when he excused himself to go to the bathroom she had to accompany him. It wasn't just the fact that he was whipped, or that he had become "my fiance," it was mostly that she could not speak without mentioning her engagement. It went a bit like this;

Me: So, how's the new job?

Her: Well, since I've been engaged I swear the work has piled on.

Me: Really? How did the engagement affect that?

Her: Well, being engaged is just so tiring.

Me: I guess with all the plans...

Her: I don't plan on getting engaged everyday though do I (chortle-snicker).

Me: Is this conversation happening?

Her: Well, my fiance and I need to have a conversation about color palettes before this engagement moves any further.

Me: Maybe you should talk about your grip on his balls?

Her: My fiance and I are thinking of an engagement-engagement party for my fiance, my fiance, my fiance, blah, blah, blah-fiance-blah, blah, blah.

Me: Your ring is ugly.

The Annoying Disney Princess That Never Was Created

Oh, jeepers! Everything is just so sweet in this girl's world. Nothing ever goes wrong because she's a Disney Princess That Never Was Created. Gosh, she's so damn sweet I need a route-canal. Golly, she would never cuss because her mother once told her that girls who curse are crude (giggle) and no man would marry a potty-mouth! She cries when something merely pricks her finger and, Lord forbid it, if something doesn't go her way she is frantic. Its ok because there is always a nice warm male to cuddle. Oh, boy she likes to give guys hugs and tickle them playfully but nothing more! No, no, no silly billy! Shame on you for thinking dirty thoughts of this Disney Princess That Never Was Created. She is pure. Sure, she'll wear her dainty, almost invisible, skirt but its to look at and not to touch! No, no! Your grubby fingers aren't nearly worthy of this girl's poontang. She smells like cookies in the winter, ivory soap on a baby's ass, lemonade and sunshine all balled up in one lovely little package. She's off limits and waiting for prince charming with his big grin and promises to keep her in her ivory tower forever.

All I can say to the Disney Princess That Never Was Created is...uh...fuck you. You are no more precious than anyone else. Your purity shows an inability to get past a 5th grade mentality about sex. Your resolve to be so sweet shows a lack of self-esteem, personality, ability, and understanding of self. I loathe you because you think you are so much better than others. Stay in your ivory tower of delusions.

Ladies, the point is, keep it real. You don't need some form of teasing or a piece of jewelry to define you. Your skirt doesn't need to go up your ass crack to feel a sense of worth.

~The Lady~
(no picture necessary)

What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks

2008-04-01T14:09:00.000-07:00

"All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on
Prosper fall, and make him

By inch-meal a disease!"- Caliban, The Tempest

<-- this is an ad for Sunless Tanner from Brussels. Get it, Snow-NOT-so-White!? I'd buy that product.

This is a story about my adventures in tanning salons. I ask that you do not judge me to unkindly. And, don't tell me all the harsh realities because, frankly, I don't want to know.

One dreary-gray afternoon, when the sun in Pennsylvania hung hidden under a smudge of dark clouds, I felt a bit down. Instead of blogging about life's problems I turned on Oprah. As you may know, I love me some Oprah Winfrey, so it was no uncommon that I was watching Oprah on this afternoon. That day a Gyno-guest-expert was discussing Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) which a lot of people in Eastern States acquire due to a lack of sunlight. SAD victims feel horribly depressed during the winter months when they recieve less Vitamin C (or D...or B...really I have no clue. This is the last I will pretend to be a scientist). That dribbly day, in front of my television, and with the eyes and ears of only my dogs to attest to this incident, I proclaimed "I MUST have SAD!" Torn , and feeling more depressed that I now had a true disability, I waited to hear how to solve my deeply troubling problem. The specialist on Oprah enlightened me that by sitting near a higher frequency lightbulb I, a SAD victim, would feel better about life.

"What the $%&^!?" I yelled at the television scorning both the expert and, my love, Oprah.

Frustrated, and wondering how much of an expert this lady was, I now felt more depressed. Where would I get a higher frequency lightbulb? How much of a tool would I look if I sat, at home, near a lamp for the suggested 20 minutes) sticking my head close to the rays of the lamp hoping, without hope left in me, that the lamp would make me feel happy.

I toiled with asking my father to buy an extreme lamp to leave in my bedroom. I would tell him it was for reading. Only true SAD victims, like myself, feel the need to cover up their disorder. Then it came to me.

"Ah-HA!" I yelled to no one except the dogs who, at this point, wanted me to shut the fuck up. I had realized, much like Edison himself, where the real lightbulbs were at; Tanning Salons. There, in the mother-ship of lightbulbs, the hub of Vitamin C (or D, who knows) I would get a proper, if not excessive, amount of lightbulbage (words made up in blog are based on personal preference and are not to be used in daily life).

Through the dreary day I drove like mad to the nearest Tanning Salon. Past grey buildings, mud-colored roads, and deep-depressing leaflesstrees I flew in my Volkswagon searching for a bit of sun in the middle of January. Finally, it blinded me. There it was glowing in the middle of the gloom beckoning me to its rays of joy and tan-acity.

The girls at the front desk greeted me and gave me a tour. Past stand-up beds, coffin-like beds, and sleep number (just kidding) beds I gazed admiringly. Which would I chose to help me beat my affliction with SAD? In the heat of the moment, I chose the stand-up tanning booth based on it looking less like a coffin and more like a box o' happiness.

The glowing beauties who ran the Tanning Salon offered me lotions showing me how wonderfully they had tanned them. I pushed past their keen salesmanship wanting only to get, as fast as possible, to my cure of SAD. I also avoided their lotions noting the front-desk ladies had streaky-chocolate faces. I didn't need a mocha tan, I didn't need my tan to endure, I didn't need to tingle whilst tanning, I didnt need any of the various products they tried to sell me; including nipple gaurds, nail gaurds, hair hiders, jock socks (weird, huh?) or anal gaurds. Not really the last one but, what if? Ew.I disregarded why all these "gaurds" might be warning me to stay away from the booth and, instead got inside and pressed "START."

For the next five minutes I listened to the music playing in the booth, held tightly to the rails for, as I was told, a more "even tan," and repeated with clenched teeth and eyes "I'm getting skin cancer, I'm getting skin cancer, I'm getting skin cancer...."

Something did happen that day. I didn't feel happier and I didn't feel less SAD or sad. All I felt that day, after my five minutes in the sunshine-happiness booth, was the deep burn that comes with staying out in the sun too long but, in places the sun hath never seen before.

Let it burn,

~The Lady~

Love Looks Not With The Eyes

2008-02-18T18:08:00.000-08:00

On a very belated note, I would like to say that I adore Valentine's day. I made this comment this past Valentine's days and a student replied "I love, love." It was weird. Regardless of this weird little student, I love Valentine's day and I'm not backing down on this one.

I hear people say "Valentine's day was created by the card companies" and I cringe. Who cares why the holiday was created? Get over it. The holday has been around for a while and--for all you lovely gents' trying to use that excuse--the ladies love this holiday regardless of what they say. Yes, the cards and the hearts are corny but there is something special about the day that makes me love, love. Men, take your girlfriends or wives out to a cheesy movie, get them flowers and chocolates, and make sure they know you care. Ladies, give your husbands or boyfriends exactly what they want--a bj* and a beer.

Why can't we go back to middle school where you got to hand out those little Valentine's with Garfield smiling on the front (yeah, I'm that old) and a lollipop half-assed attached to it. Those days, I saved the special "hint" of a Valentine for the cute boy in the class. His Valentine was always the nicest, most obvious proclamation of love. If we kept up this practice, as adults, girls could give their respective crushes cards that read "I want to do YOU, XOXO" or "Can we have sex but take the relationship further after...PLEASE?" Or, maybe "I look hotter after 32 beers!"

Nevertheless, I think we should use this holiday as a day to tell everyone we love them. For example, this year I chose to tell my favorite local hobo that I love his dedication to harassing strangers for change. I told him I respected any man who could get strangers to give him money for booze. He smiled at me, his one tooth dangling menacingly, and asked me for a nickel. I gave him a dollar and a sweet "Happy Valentine's day," before he fell asleep on an empty 40oz.

I would also like to make a point that V-Day is not just for the "coupled." Single ladies, its a day to get together with your girlfriends, drink a cosmo, eat chocolates and bitch about catty-skanks and mean boys. Chat about your birth control pills, bras, and who looks like they've lost weight. Give each other flowers and celebrate the beauty that comes with being able to blame a whole week's worth of bitchiness on "PMS." Go to a bar, dance, get crazy drunk, and enjoy being unattached. One day, you'll think back to this crazy Valentine's night and smile.

Men, dudes, chicos, and all you single guys who are enjoying Valentine's Day alone, I say you go out and get laid. Find one of the above vulnerable ladies and give them a V-Day they'll never forget. Years later, when these women are pregnant and unhappily married they'll think about that one-night of bliss. You will all appreciate Valentine's Day more if you follow my lead.

I love, love and, although I have been a poor blogger these days, I love you all.

~The Love Lady~

*The lady apologizes for her crude mouth. She will wash it out later with soap and/or vodka.

A Plague On Both Your Houses

2008-01-10T11:32:00.000-08:00

"Done to death by slanderous tongue
Was the Hero that here lies"Much Ado About Nothing (V, iii, 3-4)

While scanning other blogs late last evening, I realized I must seem like a complete moron. Firstly, I know I use a style in which is equivalent to a horny 8-year-old with a foul mouth. At times, I contend, my writing has been ungrammatical and incorrect and you, my precious readers (I can’t decide whether reader should be singular or plural), have probably lost faith in this future English teacher. I apologize for my shortcomings. As this is my space to write I believed I could write, uh, what ever the fuck I wanted. Nevertheless, this entry shall redeem my efforts and your faiths in the futures of your children.

Furthermore, it would seem the only things I can write about are drugs, television, alcohol, and celebrities (of whom I usually find to be attractive or drunk messes). Being a lady, I thought it was time to start getting serious and write a heady manuscript based on my political opinions in this year of the elections. Today, I will forego being a celebrity gossip fiend, drunk, and whatever keen nicknames you, my devoted reader(s), will give me and try to flex my political muscles. By the end of this entry you might just realize how incredibly well-read and intuitive I am.

My understanding of the 2008 candidates is as follows, and in no particular order. Another fun fact for you, my loyal reader(s), is that this lady is a registered democrat. If my previous writings haven’t demonstrated to you my liberal views well, then, I don’t believe you were actively reading. Finally, before I begin, I know some of these candidates dropped out. I don’t mind because I’m showing off my smarts.

Mike Huckabee (Republican): You have a swell last name. It’s a mix of Huckleberry Finn and, well, Bee. I like it. You’re a republican and if I combined your name with your political affiliation I would get Huckarepubee (Huck-a-repub-ee). That looks like the word pubes, which makes me giggle. Other than that, I’m told you don’t like the gays which makes you pretty stupid. Huckastupidbee (Huck-a-stupid-bee). On further thought, maybe I don’t like you so much. No vote, bud.

Hillary Rodham Clinton (Democrat): Hillary is a lady and I like that. Yet, there is something about her that turns me away from her very lady-like qualities. Although during, and after, the New Hampshire primary I saw her cry (twice) a good friend said to me today, “she’s a robot.” Now I don’t know much but a musical genius named Andrew Thompson once pleaded with me, in song, to “Never Trust Robots.” Here is the magnificent music video if you need further evidence for why you shouldn’t vote for Hillary with two L’s Never Trust Hillary?. With that, Hillary can forget my vote.

Dennis Kucinich (Democrat): Second to robots, I don’t trust elves (except the Keebler variety). You look like an elf. I don’t vote elf.

Mike Gravel (Democrat): I’m sorry, have we met?

Duncan Hunter (Republican): I’m sorry, have we met?

John Edwards (Democrat): If I ever met you in person I’d probably jump on you like a circus clown on a tiny trampoline. You have dreamy eyes and a southern drawl. You make me drawl all over myself. I’d like to drawl you—naked! If you leave your wife for me I may vote for you. Every vote counts, huh? *Wink* you fine motha…

Mitt Romney (Republican): Who is named Mitt these days? I guess you wanted to name your child something awful too and decided on “Tagg” as in “Tagg Romney, you’re ALWAYS it!” That must have been terrible in grade school. Enough with the names, you’re a Mormon. I’ve seen Big Love on HBO, I’m no fool Mr. Romney. Bring out the wives, sir. Don’t bullshit us, sir. Where are you hiding the ladies? You’ll continue to get the “silver” until you show me some evidence of your true mormon-ness.

John McCain (Republican): You took New Hampshire by storm and were, at one point, a Vietnam prisoner of war. I imagine that wasn’t fun. Your wife is beautiful. Your children’s friends probably call her a MILF. If you were a democrat I’d consider you, mostly because I think your wife is pretty.

Rudy Giuliani (Republican): Giuliani makes you sound like a real I-Talian. Being I-Talian, I don’t trust other I-Talians. You remind Americans, often, about 9/11. I have a dog named Rudy and he’s the only Rudy I’ll ever root for.

Ron Paul (Republican): Ron Paul meet RuPaul, RuPaul meet Ron Paul. Ron Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron Paul, Ron Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron Paul-RuPaul Ron Paul-RuPaul Ron Paul-RuPaul. Ron Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron PaulRon Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron PaulRon Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron PaulRon Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron PaulRon Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron PaulRon Paul-RuPaul, RuPaul-Ron Paul. The end.

Fred Thompson (Republican): I liked you better on Law & Order.

Alan Keyes (Republican): You wrote a book entitled Masters of the Dream: The Strength and Betrayal of Black America. I would like to become a Master of the Dream. Is this like becoming a Jedi or a Lord of the Rings? I’m intrigued, Keyes, tell me more. I won’t ever vote for you but, please, let me embark upon my journey to become a master of the dream (cue: Enya music).

Finally…
Barack Obama (Democrat): Ah, my sweet boy from Illinois. You rocked Iowa this past week, and my heart four years ago when you took the stage at the Democratic convention. It was love at first speech. Recently, John Kerry has endorsed you. I saw him when I was in D.C. and he was tall. I like tall people because they look nothing like elves (refer to Dennis Kucinich above). In your office in D.C. you have a picture of Abraham Lincoln. Instead of keeping photos of you and famous people, you respect one of this nation’s most refreshing and influential leaders. Obama says some brilliant things so why babble on about him when I can quote him.

“We are choosing hope over fear. We're choosing unity over division, and sending a powerful message that change is coming to America.”- Obama after Iowa win

“Education is now the currency of the Information Age. It's no longer just a pathway to opportunity and success - it's a pre-requisite.” Obama makes me swoon.

“In the end, that is God's greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this nation; the belief in things not seen; the belief that there are better days ahead.” Convention ’04 when I first fell.

To being informed, worldly, and something fun in between.

~The Lady~

What's In a Name?

2008-01-08T17:26:00.000-08:00

"How strange or odd some'er I bear myself—As I perchance hereafter shall think meet to put an antic disposition on—That you, at such times seeing me, never shall" - Hamlet

Lately, I have noticed something rotten in the state of Denmark, otherwise known as Hollywood, California. Do these three actors look alike, or is it just me? To me their resemblence is so striking I had to IMDB their names to clarify who is whom. Granted, they all have something strikingly attractive but, they're like Hollywood triplets. Likewise, they have similar acting styles. With their deep set eyes they penetrate the hearts of women with their slight cockiness yet everday guy acting.

One of the above men is marrying Fergie. Lucky him because I hear she's "Fergalicious" which is, obviously, an adjective meaning "being like or named, Fergie." I know of one other Fergalicious woman, Sarah Ferguson duchess of York aka the original Fergie. Anyway, this man stars in a show that airs Friday nights called "Las Vegas." Sadly, I am far too popular to watch this show, and by popular I mean drunk, alone on Friday nights, dancing in my leggings and long blouse (ala Lindsay Lohan my hero). I digress, this look-alike was also seen in Transformers making him pretty damn Fergalicious himself. Or would he be Josh-a-licious as his name is Josh Duhamel. Props to you Josh, you look like three other male actors.

Another man above was once on a show that was on the air for 52 years called "7th Heavan." I hated this show because the father was a preacher, they had 7 kids (get it, 7th heavan? GET IT?) that were all wholesome, and because Jessica Biel can't act her way out of her own asshole. This guy was pretty decent and definitley the only sexy aspect of "7th Heavan." I'm still pissed that they didn't change the name to 9th Heavan when the mother popped out twins at 45 years old. Anyway, now this handsome 1 outta 7 member is on "Samantha Who" which is much funnier, and a lot sexier, than "7th Heavan." If you're ever in the mood to laugh, this young lass was also in the acclaimed film Sorority Girls where he plays a young lassy. Comedy ensues thanks to Barry Watson and his familiar face.

Although one of these men looks like the other, he stands out to me because he's a bad boy. I mean, he's married with kids in real life but there is something about him that...well....let's just say he would've been kicked off "7th Heavan" after a solemn talking to by the preacher-dad. I don't even feel like getting into his list of films (all sexy), and "Deadwood" on HBO (bow-chica-bow-wow), because Timothy Olyphant shakes up the good-guy image of the Hollywood triplets.

Wait a minutes, who are you sir? You look like the Hollywood triplets? Good lord, ANOTHER ONE OF YOU? Are you brothers? This lad is on "October Road" which I sometimes keep on in the background while I crochet yet another afghan, after I get over my hangover while wearing my leggings and blouse. Another tangent, I apologize. This man, oddly enough, was on an episode of Las Vegas (with Josh) and graced "7th Heavan" with Barry. This is getting weird. You're pretty adorable, Geoff Stultz. *Upon further research I find Geoff Stultz has a twin brother...George. George doesn't look like Geoff but, like most of this list, was on fucking "7th Heavan." Goddamn that show

*Upon further research, I'm going to hell.

Love and look-alikes in 2008,

~The Lady~
(Imagine a picture of a woman who looks like the above men)

Condemn'd To Have An Itching Palm

2007-12-20T19:45:00.000-08:00

"Thou art a votary to fond desire."

The Two Gentlemen of Verona (I, i, 52)

I'm back! Its been a little while but boy-oh-boy have I been brewing with thoughts and ramblings that must get blurted on my lovely blog spot. So, here we go!

"Post-Surgery-Rambling of Things I Thought Whilst on Drugs"

While I was laid up (lay? lie? lied? flayed? the world may never know) in the hospital bedroom I delighted in many thoughts. Mostly, I pondered "gee, I need more drugs," and "this remote control bed, while in theory delightful, never goes in the right position for optimum comfort."

Television: I watched a lot of television during my one night stand with the hospital. I enjoyed some "Do You Know Lyrics" game-show that Wayne Brady is hosting these days. Oh, how the melodious voice of an African American man can soothe my wounds. I also caught up on my celebrity gossip. If it weren't for the discomfort I was feeling this would have felt more like a vacation than anything else. Sadly, this was no trip to the Holiday Inn.

Nurses: The nurses at the hospital I visited were delightful. They were really nice and, every 4 hours, when I buzzed them for more pain killers, they were at my side quickly. They always asked me "On a scale of 1-10 how bad is the pain" which was kind of annoying. I never wanted to say 10 and sound like a drama queen. 5-6 made me sound like a big fat baby. I can see them mocking me in their minds if I had said "5".

"Really, your pain is at a five but you need pain killers? Who are you, Rush Limbaugh?"

Saying my pain was at 8-9 made me sound like I had planned my answer (although, I had by the 4th and 5th round of druggies). So I would always go with a solid 7. One nurse decided to ask me from 1-5 and I had to stutter a "3" after much mental deliberation.

Boy Surgeons vs. Female Surgeons: While both were nice, lifting my shirt for one was more so comfortable than the other. Hospital robes, once lifted, are quick to reveal it all and modesty is thrown out the proverbial window Had it not been for those sweet, very sweet, pain killers I may have cared more about being partially nude for the good-looking surgeon boy. Yes, ladies, he was a hot blonde, 6'2, dreamy blue eyed, surgeon. He had to check on me-wounds before I could be released and the thought of my own bed, self-administration of pain killers, and clothes had me lifting my robes rather quickly. I damn near yanked the I.V out myself.

IVs and Drugs: I imagine being under anesthesia is what a coma feels like...or death...I'm not certain *yet. You go to sleep, have no clue what is being done to you, and when you wake up things have changed and gall-bladders are removed. The last thing I remember was seeing those operating room lights (like on Grey's Anatomy/ER) and thinking "Oh, shit." Then a woman put the oxygen mask thingy on my face and said "take a deep breath." Apparently, my deep breath wasn't good enough and I remember her saying "take a bigger one than that." I don't remember anything that followed. I woke up and mumbled something about my Mom wanting to stay in my room over night. Clearly, the drugs were still working. A kind orderly brought me back to my room and I, once again, asked for my parents. How weird is it that one minute you are a functioning human-being, and the next minute people are messing with your insides and you have no clue. Sounds like a kegger gone wrong (or right depending on your nature).

I also don't understand how celebrities and rich peasants use Oxycontin (my drug of choice this week) and other prescription pain killers for anything but pain killing. The Drug Library explains Oxycontin as follows: "OxyContin® is the brand name of a time-release formula of the analgesic chemical oxycodone. OxyContin®, which is produced by the pharmaceutical company Purdue Pharma, is prescribed as a pain medication. Instances of abuse of this drug have increased in recent years. Street terms for OxyContin: Hillbilly heroin, Oxy, Oxycotton"

Here is what I think of Hillbilly heroin....imagine your most emotional night of drinking. Take that night, add more confusion with a slice of dizziness and you have what Oxycontin does to you. I felt fine but, in retrospect, I was talking crazy and barely knew my own name. A couple days out of the hospital, and feeling a lot better, I took one for my pain on a whim because I, uh, couldn't find my Motrin. Uh, my pain was at a 7 and....listen, don't judge I NEEDED IT I TELL YA'!

Anyhow, I took it without eating any food (ala my idol, Lindsay Lohan). I ended up baking two chocolate cakes (?), watching 3 hours of VH1 countdowns (?), and lying (laying, lie, lied, lid oh F**** it) under the Christmas tree for 20 minutes as the world spun. I felt hungover and nauseous so I ate most of those two cakes and enjoyed the lights of the Christmas tree.

Hospital food: Tastes amazing when you're on Oxycontin. I distinctly proclaimed that my JELLO was "the best tasting JELLO of all time." In contrast, I called the soup "piss" and dribbled it on my robe in protest. Thank you, Oxycontin. I only hope the hot surgeon noticed my piss-soup-dribble stain...along with my private bits.

In conclusion, the hospital can be fun if you like mentally being on another planet but thinking you're completely sober. It can also be fun if you like eating piss and watching as your mother eats delicious macaroni and cheese (which is your favorite food ever) and can't give you any for fear you might, I don't know, implode. How evil is that? That act, to me, is close to Chinese water torture or something of the like. Spoken like a true fat kid. Oh and one more thing...

Itchy Wounds: Some wise asshole once said "if your scars itch it means they're healing." Well, I think that is just a justification for the fact that your wounds are itchy for no reason. Its like when people say "It is good luck when a bird poops on your head." No, it is not. In fact, that is just gross and the only reason you say claim it as good luck is so the person feels better about having shit on their head. I digress, the itchy wounds are awkward and I wish the itch would stop. Haven't I had enough? I wonder if there is Oxycontin for itchiness?

Stay healthy! Happy holidays bitches and ho-ho-hos!

~The Lady~

UPDATE

2007-11-29T05:21:00.000-08:00

By saying "Marie will win" over and over the gods smiled on my plight and Marie, sadly, left early on in the finale. Then, shock of all shocks, Helio (my love) won!!! Yay for the little Brazilian and his cute partner!

What reality show shall I cling to next? When does American Idol start? My life is just THAT interesting.

~The (brief) Lady~

All That Glisters is Not Gold

2007-11-27T06:45:00.001-08:00

"More matter with less art." -Hamlet

This has been the first season I have ever watched the show Dancing with the Stars. I've fallen in love with the Salsa, the Merengue, and the tricky Cha-Cha. More importantly, I've fallen for the personalities that have danced their way into my heart. I learned, through out the season, not to latch on to any celeb couples because they, ultimately, got the boot. I further realized that the American audience, or atleast a large majority of the American audience, is the worst dance judges God ever created. That is why on this the night of finals, I will bet lots and lots of money on Marie Osmond because the American audience is a bunch of morons.

In the past 11 weeks, she passed out, she got back on the horse, she did well for her age, and she lost her father and some unwanted pounds. I feel for her and I know shes America's sweetheart but, COME ON PEOPLE. There have been much better dancers on this show that have gotten the boot. Marie Osmond has one thing going for her...her last name.

People LOVE the Osmonds. The Osmond clan, in itself, makes up half the country. With that, I believe the shear size of her family has tipped the scale and furthered her presence on Dancing with the Stars. It's unfair I tell you. Even the judges, on last night's show, tried to say in a nice way "you're an entertainer but not a dancer." Get the hint Marie!

Since Sabrina and Mark (the best team on that show) got kicked off (way before their prime), because the American public wasn't voting, I learned my lesson. Don't even get me started on my in-home temper-tantrum, the things I threw, and the people I killed the night they were voted off the show.

Last night I voted 11 times for Helio and Julianne. I think he's precious and has really grown (I know because I've been watching since the beginning). If his partner weren't so damn cute and friendly, Julianne would be the girl you hated in high school based purely on her good looks. If ever I could say "I want to look like someone" I'd pick her. No offense Marie, but this tag team is more energetic, more technically sound, and has done better than you along the way. It doesn't matter, you're going to win.

Mel B and Maks are awesome to watch. She is a great dancer and has learned well from Maks. They're also very funny together and have the showmanship that the judges have loved. The scary in "Scary spice" will most likely come out tonight because, I have no doubt in my mind, Marie Osmond is going to beat both Helio and Mel B. Why? Because she's mormon.

That was a strong statement to make. I apologize. She's going to win because she makes dolls. Yes, thats right. Marie mentioned a couple of times last night that she has doll-making friends who are voting for her. She also dressed like a doll (an image too frightnening for me to put on this blog) and mentioned she was the 3rd highest selling doll-maker in the world. Maybe, just maybe, you should stick to dolls Marie. It doesn't matter though because you're going to win. I've seen QVC, I know the strange people out there who sit by their telephones dialing in for your dolls and now for you to win this competition.

She seems like a nice person, a friendly lady, a great mom, and a funny woman. Does that mean the American public should vote for her because of these attributes? No. Will they? Yes.

With that, I'm moving to Russia. I assume a Russian competition would end in bloodshed if someone who didn't deserve a trophy won. In America, we believe that the underdog should win. We love Rocky, we love rooting for Philadelphia teams (regardless of the let-downs), and we root for whoever had the toughest breaks. For Dancing with the Stars, the doll-lady has it.

Proud to be an American (or, am I?)

~The Lady~

A Lean and Hungry Look

2007-11-12T19:13:00.000-08:00

"O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick.
Thus with a kiss I die."
-Romeo and Juliet (V, iii, 119-120)

In a couple of weeks I will be saying farewell to my gall-bladder. Not many people even think about their gallbladder. I've had issues with mine since I was 7. We've had a tumultuous relationship one in which I'll never be able to truly forget. After 22 years of pain, ignoring the signs, and then more pain, I will have to go under the knife (very soon) to remove a part of me that doesn't function well (no, not my brain...smart-asses). Although I am fearful of this whole "surgery" thing I will pretend I'm perfectly fine with a nice love-note to my gall-bladder. I would like to give my gall-bladder a proper goodbye. So, in this lovely-ladies' blog, I will send a fond farewell to my bile-storing gall-bladder.

Adieu, Sweet-Fellow,
You lousy good for nothing gall-bladder. You've given me trouble since I was seven. You pooped out far before your prime. Yet, something makes me think you and I never had a chance. We never quite clicked. I, with my absolute love of cheese, and you with you inability to process it. How could we ever commit to one another when you just wanted to cause me pain? At a young age, I learned what "pain killers" were and boy did I want to kill the pain in which you caused me. We fought and fought and when you disappeared I was glad you left. I didn't mind when you stopped bothering me with your spasms. I could feel normal again without you getting in the way. I could eat cheese and all sorts of caloric delights, and did for many years, forgetting you were ever once a problem. Then, after a night of Chinese food, you called me up again.

You were there, again, in my life and causing trouble. Why couldn't you even try? Why couldn't we make it work? Maybe, I am partly to blame. I should have put more effort into the relationship. I should have tried as well. I shouldn't have ignored you so much. But, you, you didn't even give me a chance. You came back to hurt me once more and you're making up for the years you were silent.

Now its time to remove you forever. You have made your presence known and in a big way. You've kept me up at night, agonizing, and in tears. Why couldn't you just leave me alone? I will be free of you in a couple of weeks, but just to make sure you don't bother me until then I'm locking my doors and turning off the cellphone. No more fatty foods until you're gone. It's all fiber and veggies to make sure you stay at rest. You can get so violent sometimes and that is why its time to say goodbye. Now, you've left me hungry and hoping not to make you stir.

When the day comes, I hope you don't resist. Take it like a man...or, uh, a gall-bladder and just let go of me gracefully. Thank you for those days in which we got along. Thanks for hanging out with my liver (even when the liver was in party-mode).

Goodbye, gall-bladder.

~The Lady~

The Worth and Dignity of Man

2007-10-25T19:06:00.000-07:00

"O, what men dare do! What men may do! What men dailydo, not knowing what they do!"Much Ado About Nothing (IV, i, 19-21)

A few years ago I went as a gypsy woman for Halloween. I was a standard gypsy; long skirt, scarf, tarot cards aka the basics. Lately, I've been using the term gypsy in a different way. They are no longer strange old ladies with curses lightly flittering off their lips who smell of incense and oregano but, a completely new breed of gyspy whom I have been attacked by (more than once) in the mall.

I went to the mall as a sanctuary away from doing homework and chores and, somehow, it became more of a chore than I had assumed. It was a trip to get more professional clothing and to get away from the mundane for a little while. Instead of being attacked by annoying highschoolers I was in for an entirely new form of nuisance; the gypsy-man.

He seemed nice but I knew his tricks...he wanted to sell me a manicure set. Recently, I decided to go faux-naturale with acrylic nails. I pay a Vietnamese lady to paint and fix them up every two weeks. With that, I didn't need some strange gypsy-man telling me how to buff my fake nails. Yet, it was late at night and, as me and my beau were leaving for home, the gypsy man snagged me. Literally, he grabbed me by the arm and made me listen to his 10 minute speech about how my face was dirty and that I needed his facial peel. Then he rubbed it on my arm repeating how he couldnt put it on my face in the middle of the mall. Meanwhile, the beau was seething with anger and frustration over gypsy-man's hostage takeover of, well, me. As he's rubbing my arm with his gypsy-peel I'm begining to fall for the bullshit.

"My face IS dirty," "this stuff IS all natural," and "I could use my 'only for emergency charge card,'" were all thoughts I had while the gypsy man smooth-talked and rubbed his way into my purse.

Then, the rubbing stopped. I felt the remnants of my under arm and it was as smooth as the gypsy-man's words. We compared the left arm to the newly buffed right arm. My normally pale skin was abnormally translucent on the arm he had scrubbed so dilligently. But, damn, it was soft like cotton. Then, he whipped out the price. A 12-month supply for 79.99.

"Yeah, we were on our way out and I have no money," I said to the gyspy-man as I turned to the lover who rolled his eyes and took my arm back.
"Did I tell you we are having very special discount today," he asked pulling out his visual aid...a magical calculator.

I kept protesting and he kept calculating a lower price but, never low enough. Then he said it...a number I could almost handle.

"29.99, pinky swear you won't tell anyone. I give this price to my family."

Visions of my American Express danced in my head. I could handle 30 bucks, right? I mean, it was a 12 month deal! I would have the most see-through skin of all the girls in the land!

My dreams were crushed as my boyfriend swiftly dismissed this STEAL of a price, told the gypsy man he was "very good at his job" and grabbed me as he said "we just have no money, sir."

On the way out of the mall I was glad I had someone to stop me from falling for the gypsy-man's spell. My boyfriend said I was better off since my underarm looked "unhealthy." And, that could've been my face!

The next day I ended up back at the mall, near my gypsy friend who I cleverly avoided; or so I thought. A couple kiasks down a new gypsy man with bangs that stood straight up wanted to sell me a straightener. I yelled "No thank you!" as I ran past him and smiled at my new found gypsy-confidence. I can beat their spells and potions! I dont need a clean face or straight hair!

Then a couple more kiasks down and a modern gypsy-woman asked me "Excuse me, do you keep your nails natural," I raised my very long and very fake nails in the air and screamed "Nope, not at all."

I ran away from the mall that day with a newly found confidence and the evil eye spell lurking over my head (thanks to three angry gypsies). I don't go to the mall anymore because it has become more trouble than its worth. Thanks to internet shopping and holy water I am a much happier, less cursed, gypsy-free woman.

~The Lady~

Swear By His Sword!

2007-10-21T05:37:00.000-07:00

If music be the food of love, play on,

Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die.

-Twelfth Night Act 1, scene 1, 1–3

A couple days ago when J.K Rowling was asked (and I don't quote verbatim) "Did Dumbledore ever experience true love" she replied "I've always thought of Dumbledore as gay."

At that moment, family rights people and bigots everywhere experienced a minor constriction of their bowels. Meanwhile, in the United States, I smile.

Rowling went on to explain that he was in love with his rival Gellart Grindewald, how love can blind us sometimes, and that this love was his "great tragedy." Wow, that makes me want to re-read that portion of Book 7 because I clearly missed all the wonderful subtext.

Apparently, the producers of the 6th movie wanted to add some fictional female love for Dumbledore and Rowling crossed it out in the script and wrote "Dumbledore is gay." This story just keeps getting better and better! As a lover of all people (which means I love all colors of people, all different religious followers, and people with sexual preferences that differ from my own) I'm psyched Dumbledore is a homosexual. I can almost imagine him at a gay bar singing show tunes...ok, maybe thats a bit much. Either way, I like this recent outting of one of my favorite fictional wizards.

On Good Morning America they did a piece on this shocking Harry Potter revalation. It just so happened a convention for Family Rights was going on. Apparently, these assholes, I mean...good Moms & Dads, need to get together to fight over what American families should look like and, lets just put it out there, its not a Daddy-Daddy-son-daughter family. I guess its also not a Wizard-Wizard family situation either?

They questioned some of the morons, I mean good family folk, about Dumbledore. One guy said something to the point of "Sexuality should not be included in a family book." Well, sir, it never was and it never will be because the book series is over. I read every Harry Potter book and most more than once and, I never read a line that made me think "Hmm, Dumbledore clearly likes men!" Sexuality is never even mentioned. There is awkward pre-teen tension but, never sex. The book goes beyond sexuality, something these "Family Rights" tools can't seem to understand. If you're so set on cleaning up your precious child's fiction get your heads out of the gutter...its just not about that.

Clearly, I am infuriated by stupidity. Firstly, who says that a convention of people spouting family values know anything about what a family is. Its not some Norman Rockwell picture from the 50s. That dream will never be so, get over it. Rockwell is dead or else he might be painting a new American landscape with all different types of families and people.

If Dumbledore is gay, so what? Rowling didn't even mention it until the books were over and it won't warp your precious child's mind because, hello assholes, welcome to the 21st century; they have cable.

P.S. Family Rights morons, whats the divorce rate these days? Yeah, I thought so. SUCK IT!

~The Lady~

So Wise, So Young

2007-10-14T15:00:00.002-07:00

"Get thee to a nunn'ry." --From Hamlet (III, i, 122)

It has been a long time since I’ve updated. Since the Britney debacle I’ve been on a bit of a downward spiral myself. I lost custody of my kids and have to pee in a cup once a week so the judge knows I’m not smoking the dope.

Anyway, I’ve been trying to think of a good cultural and social situations that needs to be talked about. Sadly, my life has been preoccupied with becoming a teacher. Yes, I’m becoming a teacher and someday I’ll have to delete this blog in case some little shit, I mean, computer-savvy student figures out I pour my heart out to a computer screen.

With that said, I must talk about these little shits, I mean, wise students, I am working with in my student-teaching practicum. Keep in mind, I like most of them. I think they are funny and smart but, some of them are going to grow up to be “those people.” I’ll explain. Although these are middle school students, I can look at certain kids in the class and read their futures. I'm a little psychic these days. Plus, I'm getting old and have seen these characters a long time ago...when I was in middle school. I try not to, it’s not good to label students but, its natural to pigeon-hole them because they have already pigeon-holed themselves. I won’t be using their names but here is a little list of who they are and what they’ll become. This is what I do when I should be observing "how to teach."

Also, before I start, can you remember a teacher who you thought hated you? If they actually disliked you, he/she DEFINITLEY talked about you in the teacher’s lounge, in the hall way with other teachers, to their spouse, and when yelling at their children “You don’t want to end up like (insert your name here)." I see it daily and it’s brutal.

8th Graders, I See Your Future...
Paul Popular: He has been popular since he popped out his mother’s naughty area. Even the nurses thought how charming he was when they handed him over to his proud new parents. He’s still awkward looking, because its middle school but, someday very soon, he’s going to grow tall and realize “damn, I’m hot.” He’ll get any girl he wants but, somehow, he’ll find the sweetest girl in high school. The two will look perfect together. He’ll get by in classes because of his charm and because gosh-darn he is just the cutest thing ever. Teachers will love him, parents will want their children to be like him or be friends with him, and everyone will know his name. He'll be nice to the nerds (to their face), nice to the dumb kids (to their face), and reserve all his cool for when he's with his friends making fun of everyone he's so "nice" to. He and his sweet-gal will date until mid-freshman year of college when he’ll find out she was entwined in an orgy after a frat-keg party (See Sally Sweet below). He’ll graduate from Penn State with a business degree and end up a rich CEO based on his charm and good looks. Life is grand for Billy popular, even in the 8th grade. I kind of want on him...until I smack myself in the face and remember, "He's 12! He's 12 and you are his age plus 10 which makes you creepy...and old (sheds a single tear)."

Ned Nerd: Oh, dear God you are weird. You’re just weird. You know it, I know it, we all know it. You love it though, which makes me admire and fear your little weird self. You have glasses that are so thick and stereotypical. I suggest lasik but, you're too weird for that. You’re a sweet kid and teachers respect you because they know you’re weird but, you’re smart. Girls are cruel in middle school and blatantly move away from you when you sit near them. Girls are cruel in high school and won’t accept your offer to go to prom. Girls are just fucking cruel. One day though, you weird little weirdo, you’ll go to a prestigious college because, even in middle school, you know bigger words than me and I’m supposed to be your teacher. At that college you’ll meet another weirdo; a female weirdo who appreciates you for all the weirdness you bring to the table. If I've said it once I’ve said it a thousand times; when freaks mate, God smiles. You’ll make millions of dollars doing something smarter than I can even imagine in my prediction for you. God bless the weird little weirdo.

Sally Sweet: You’re pretty and you’re twelve. I hated you in middle school. I still kind of hate you now. You thought I was funny in middle school but that’s where the friendship ended. Sweet “hellos” in the hallways and nothing else but, you’re nice. You’re so nice I want to punt you out of the room because you won’t let me hate you! WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HATE YOU? You’ll date Paul Popular (see above) and everyone will always envy you for who you are but, want to be your friend at the same time. You have to have some flaws, right? You’ll join a sorority in college and as a sophomore be voted President of whatever Greek letters they’ve pooped together that year. After Paul finds out about the frat party, he’ll dump you. You’ll be crushed but, a week later you’ll meet a hotter version of Paul who is going to be a lawyer. You’ll be married at 24, have 4 babies by 29, and be a classified alcoholic by 32 after you find out the lawyer is cheating on you with Wanda Whore (see below). Ha, sweet revenge.
*this is my prediction so I can do what I want.

Wanda Whore: You were flirting in kindergarten. You say the word “sexy” referring to Zac Efron and all the class screams that you’re gross. You are sort of gross because you’re 12 but have perfected the blow job. At 12, I thought blow jobs referred to a hard day of balloon making. You don’t do work because you’re distracted by pimple-faced boys who you talk about myspace with. You flirt with Ned Nerd because you can; then make fun of him behind his back. You’re friends with Sally Sweet but no one knows what she sees in you. You think you’re really cool but your version of cool is warped. You’re boy crazy, don’t care about school, and don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’ll end up Homecoming Queen runner up because you’ll never be as good as Sally. You’ll end up at Penn State studying fashion merchandise. You’ll fail a lot of classes and need to stay on another year because you were too busy getting drunk and getting laid by a different guy every night. Daddy will find you a receptionist job when you finally graduate. You’ll get caught sleeping with your only friend’s husband and move to California where Daddy will pay your way until you finally meet a 65-year-old with lots of money. You’ll marry him and sleep with anyone who walks into your mansion. Did I mention I hate you?

Cody Clown: You’re a smart ass. Literally, you’re really smart but you can be such an asshole to get the attention of your classmates. I wish you would focus sometimes but, I relate to you. You use humor when you’re bored, when you know you’re smarter than others, or to evade situations. My only hope is that someone will guide you and take the time to make sure you don’t get swept under the carpet. Your future could go two ways; selling car parts or doing something that challenges you…which I know is what you need.

Allison Anal: When it comes to group work you’re the one doing all the work and fretting over how much you have to do. You say it’s because no one else will do it but, we all know you take over. You’re clever and smart; no one denies you’re going places. Just, lighten up before your already-developing-ulcer erupts. You’re twelve, flirt a little with the boys…not too much, no one wants to be a Wanda Whore (see slut above). You’ll go to a great college and won’t need any man to bring you down. You’ll find one, probably like Ned Nerd but a bit preppier and less odd; someone you can boss around who’ll adore you. One day, you’ll be the second female president and I’ll be proud to say I knew you when you were just an anal twelve-year-old.

Eduardo English as a Second Language: You're adorable, small, and quiet. You no habla Ingles. Sometimes, I want to take you aside and go over things you're clearly not understanding. You might be smart, who knows? The kids tease you and make you say things because you have an accent. One day, you'd like to force them all to eat horse shit while you laugh and point at them. Instead, you sit there confused hoping someone will explain to you what the hell is going on. Eventually, you'll get it. English will be as natural to you as your first language. On that day, you'll also grow tall and handsome. All those homely American girls who once teased you will want to do you. You 'll be too mysterious to even reject them which will, ultimatley, make them want you more. You'll become a writer and tell stories of coming to America and being a 20th century immigrant. You'll make millions and those homely girls will imagine their lovers are you. You'll raise a nice family with a beautiful wife and figuratively make all those who teased you eat horse shit when you write a novel about how hard middle school can be for a poor ESL student. Buenos fuerte little Eduardo.

There are more characters to chronicle but, I’m worn out for tonight. I really do like teaching. I get to see myself as a 12-year-old all over again and imagine the nasty things my teachers said about me.

Time to pee in a cup.

~The (OLD)Lady~

Oft Expectation Fails

2007-09-10T07:05:00.000-07:00

"Let every eye negotiate for itself /And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch/Against whose charms faith melteth in blood."
-From Much Ado About Nothing

Disclaimer: Before you read this, if you did not see Britney's performance, watch the first minute of this shit-show and you'll understand the rest of this blog.

Oh, Britney! Why!? Why must you always let me down so? First, you dumped Kevin Federline--the man for you -- for a life of debauchery and neglecting your children. Now, you have this "comeback" on the MTV VMAs, your one opportunity to spite the critics, and what did you do? You danced like you were in a drunken stupor, you sang like...well, you let the recording do that job, and you performed like you were in a 3rd grade talent show (one in which you neglected to wear clothing). Why must you continue to fail me?

Thank the lord Sarah Silverman made fun of you. You've become such an easy target, Brit. I do feel for you a little bit. I understand you didnt have an adolescence because you were too busy becoming famous and making money. I'm sure that must be so tough to think you wasted your youth becoming famous and making money. But, have you ever once thought in your Southern-fried brain that maybe, just maybe, you had fans you should keep up the good work for? Have you ever once thought in all your crazy..."Like, maybe I should try to be my best for my fans?"

I'm no dance coach, but your moves were slow, off-time, boring, and lazy. You used to be a fun dancer to watch. If anything, the performance part was all you had going for you. Oh, and your good body which, I'm not saying anything but maybe, just maybe, you should've worn a complete shirt. Britney, come on, confess it all, you were stoned, right? Please, PLEASE, tell me thats why your performance was in slow-motion!

In conclusion Brit, your reputation won't do it all for you anymore. You can't just show up to a big event and shake a little while moving your mouth and think "Heck, I'm going to cause a stir! Everyone is going to love this!" You're no longer the snake charmer, the school girl is long-gone, and who cares that you kissed Madonna (wash your mouth out Madonna). You're just a blonde who, at one point in her lifetime, was unstoppable. Officially, you've been stopped Britney and you only have yourself to blame. Yet, I'll probably download your new songs because, gosh-darnit, they're somewhat catchy!

I guess you win again B. Spears.

~The Lady~

Why, That's My Dainty Ariel

2007-08-25T06:27:00.000-07:00

"Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps."
--From Much Ado About Nothing (III, i, 106)

The color pink makes me happy. I wonder, if I were male, if I could love the color so much. Would I be shamed if I did love it? Maybe, if I was a boy, I wouldn't like the color at all. Confined to blues and greens and the like at a young age I wouldn't know the wonders of pink.

It reminds me of Valentine's day, of a warm afternoon, of cute dresses and of all that cutesy stuff some people detest. Yet, I love it. In years past I've been ashamed of my desire to wear, see, and paint in pink. Much like my love of the Backstreet Boys, I pretended, I hid my love under shades of purple and blue. I thought if I could hide my love for a mix between red and white, no one know just how girly I was. I wonder when pink became the color of the girl? Is it because girls are supposed to have cheeks of pink? Or is it because it embodies something more that represents the female? I won't even go into the Aerosmith version of my precious color...sickos.

Anyway, this was a long way of saying that this Lady loves her sex's designated color. Following with the lines of conformity, I love me some pink. On my favorite show ever, Whose Wedding is it Anyway, a bride made everything (and I mean EVERYTHING down to her dog's fur-color) pink. It was glorious to this pink fiend.

In conclusion, I've changed my layout to display a shade of pink. It takes me a while to say what I started out to say. I LOVE PINK. Here is to all things Pink:

The singer/songwriter, the lady Pink

The panther who is a shade of Pink

Flamingos who only come in Pink

Cellphones that have been coated Pink

Drinks that have a tint of Pink

Bedrooms that are painted Pink

Lips that are glossed in Pink

Dresses & jewelery bedecked in Pink

Masters who dye their doggies Pink

NOT to Aerosmith & their dirty version of Pink

And to this Lady, who truly loves her Pink.

After writing this, saying and reading the word pink have somewhat made me sick. What a weird language we speak and write.

~The Lady~

Think You I am No Stronger Than My Sex

2007-08-23T17:38:00.000-07:00

"Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?"
--From King Richard III

Suave commercials...not so suave in my book.

Is anyone else disgusted with the new Suave marketing that practically says, to all Mother's who watch T.V., "Hey, you with the 4 kids you look a mess. Do up your hair woman! You's nasty!" Well, atleast something to that affect.

The ads are trying to promote women, who've become mothers, getting back to the sexy way they once were by using Suave's products. The commercial highlites the woman's downfall, how overrun the children make her look, how ugly she gets because she has kids. Each shot shows her getting worse and worse, saggier and saggier, messier and messier, until she's a complete wreck of the once beautiful youth who popped birth control into her mouth faster than a fat kid with a fresh new bag of M & M's. At the end, presto-chango, she uses Suave and remembers to say yes to the once beautiful lady she was.

Its pretty terrbile and I don't buy it Suave!

The poor name of Motherhood is being sullied by Suave in a beautifully crafted marketing scheme that makes Mother's sit back, relax, and feel like they're ugly. Why have they become a messy reflection of a woman? All because of the bastards they birthed.

Sadly, according to USA Today, the ads are working. Women everywhere LOVE feeling like their children have made them ugly and saggy reflections of they way they once were. Just add this to the list of guilt trips Mothers everywhere can now tack on to their unappreciative brats.

Heres some figures I scooped up like the ace reporter that I am:
Suave Survey Says...
Like the ads a lot
All respondents 14%
Ad Track survey average 21%
Male respondents
6%
Female respondents
18%

According to the survey done on USA Today.com, women are responding positively. Well, not this woman! I don't even look at the 6% of the opposite sex who like the commercial. I imagine they are old fat men who still live at home with their Mothers. Otherwise, they are just consumer driven monkeys who, shock of the century, think their wives have gone down the crapper with age and the birthing of their children. You, pig.

(Deep breath, and release)

The marketing geniuses have added, yet another, brilliant tag-line to their well oiled-ugly-Mommy commercial...."Say yes to beautiful without paying the price." Who wouldn't run right out, buy a Suave shampoo, and tell the cashier "I'm saying yes to beautiful...and ITS ON SALE!" when they've simply asked "Paper or plastic?" Who would answer "no" when beautiful came a knockin'? Not one female who was just made to feel ugly, because of the offspring, wouldn't atleast consider getting beautiful off the shelf at a discount.

But why make women feel ugly in the first place? Is it so wrong that a woman shows the war-wounds of a long day as she carries her breast-feeding baby and her toddler? Is it so wrong that after a long day of work, then spending time with the kids, she doesn't have a cute dress on and some makeup? Is it so wrong that, when faced with the decision to spend time with her children, or doll herself up, the Mother chose the children?

People say things were bad in the past for women. Atleast, in the 20s there weren't ads constantly reminding us that we had aged and worried more for the lives of our children then how flat our hair was (mostly because there wasn't the technology to consistently remind us of our faults). Suave, underneath it all, is trying to tell women not to focus so much on their families. Suave is so graciously telling women to take some "me"time. Yet, in the process, I am slightly offended by what the suggest about American women and our culture. Have we become so one-sided that we're either too egotistical to take care of our children, or are we so invovled with the kids that we've become frump-Queens? There is a balance and I've seen it in many of the Mother's I've met.

It really is much easier to be a man. How many commercials are geared to men looking good after they've squeezed a couple watermellons out of their special no-no areas? Oh, wait, they don't have to do that. They sort of just observe the birthing and look damn sexy until they die, right? For men, I guess Axe commercials spout "sex in a bottle" and some commercials scream "hair in a bottle." But, seriously, beyond that? No one calls Dad's ugly, saggy, a sadder image of the man they once were. So, can't we lay off the Mom's?

To my Mother, who has aged gracefully and always chose her children over her makeup bag. To my Mother, who has no wrinkles for her age and worked 40 hours a week but spent afternoons playing games with her children, feeding us, and tucking us in at night. We should applaud women like her, who don't need beauty at discount because the children around her tell her she's beautiful more for her spirit then her well applied lipstick.

Tell your Mom she's beautiful, it'll be more suave then any shampoo or conditioner commerical out there.

~ The Lady (?) ~

Is Whispering Nothing?

2007-08-07T18:30:00.000-07:00

"I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you."
--From The Merchant of Venice (I, iii, 35-39)

Oh, no. I feel it. Here it comes....its a RANT ENTRY!

Teenage angsty-questioning begins NOW:

Why is that one of my better entries was under the influence? Is my writing better because I am liberated by the alcohol pumping through my veins whilst my fingers type vigorously? Should I write everything with a bit of booze in me? Should I become alcohol dependant? Would the boys at school like me more that way?

Secondly (and finally), is it wrong that I like Hugh Hefner's girlfriends and that I don't think their situation is all that weird? Is it bad that I am addicted to their show & have decided to go blonde? Is it wrong that I like their personalities (minus Kendra..she bothers me)? I thought I was such a feminist and now I realize, I love the Girl's Next Door who pretty much stand for everything I don't. Is it bad that I find them interesting and not disgusting? Is it so wrong that when the View had them on and made them feel like shit I felt bad for them? How is it that I sympathize with three girls who like an 80 year-old-man, walk around half naked, and sometimes make really dumb comments? Should I act dumb to get attention? Oh, no, whats happened to me?

Oh, woe is me. Whiney-whine. Angst, angst, angst! Oh what shall become of me!? SIGH-SIGH-SIGH! (Shakes fist in air) WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!?

End of typical blog-style rant

~The Lady~

I Am Dying, Egypt, Dying

2007-08-06T10:37:00.000-07:00

"Nothing can come of nothing: speak again."
--From King Lear (I, i, 92)

Queen Latifah's film "Last Holiday" spoke to me early this morning. As I was drinking my morning coffee I decided "Yes, Latifah, it is time to live life to fullest!"The movie is about living like you're dying. Feigning all responsibilities I had promised myself I'd do today (ie: cleaning my room, organizing my life, remaining on my diet, and caring for my hygiene) I, in my pajamas still, began drinking to life!

What so wrong with drinking at 11 a.m and being completely blitzed by 1:30? I ask this as I sip yet another kahlua and cream. Having literally no tolerance these days I am drunk off merely 2 small glasses of wine and one and a half kahlua-delights as I'm calling them now. Rightfully, I have continued my diet by replacing food with booze. Disgusting, you might say, but seriously I'm going to market this like Jenny Craig markets Kirstie Alley...er...healthy eating.

From now on my diet will consist of Kahlua delights for breakfast or Bloody Marys if I'm in the mood. Lunch will be Margaritas with lime (to stay on the light side). Dinner will consist of a Dirty Martinis (straight up or no way else) with a side of Gin & Tonics. For desserts - cake shots of course. Sleep will, obviously, ensue from there and morning will only bring more liquid delights. Mmm, I smell delicious drunkeness by 12 oclock everyday.

Also, I do not ask for your criticisms...I am merely following what Latifah told me to do. I'm living life to my fullest, at this moment. One day very soon I will have a purpose that doesn't involve the bottom of a bottle.

For now, maybe I should drink some water and get off my ass. Or, maybe, another round for me boys!

Cheers lovahhhs! Heres to the ladies who lush!

~The Lady~

*Disclaimer* This is a one-time only thing, I promise, for any who think I am in trouble like Lindsay Lohan on a good day. This was merely for journalistic purposes. I was only being a good reporter. If anyone would like to join in my debauchery call my cell. - The Lady

That He's Mad, 'Tis True

2007-07-31T11:35:00.000-07:00

"The man that hath no music in himself
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."
--From The Merchant of Venice

I previously wrote a farewell to the Sopranos on HBO. Since then, HBO has added two new shows to their line-up which are "John from Cincinatti" & "Flight of the Conchords." "John from Cincinatti" is about a parrotting, bizarre, and prophetic guy supposedly from Cincinatti. The show is as frustrating as it is foul-mouthed and, to me, annoying. I've decided that John is not a prophet, Jesus-figure, or messenger of G.O.D but, merely, an autistic adult who is screwing with a small surfing town and can, subsequently, heal himself. Either way, I don't enjoy being frustrated with dialogue, plot, and strange characters. I also don't enjoy hearing the "f" word used so inappropriately the Sopranos are rolling over in their Sunday-time-slot-graves.

Then, *sigh*, "Flight of the Conchords" redeems my hopes in HBO and their ability to cross the ambiguous cable-television line. Sure, the show is nuts and the lead characters are bizarre New Zealanders, but the Kiwis dont prophesize, they use their dry humor to the utmost, and keep me laughing at their zany antics.

HBO featured the band in a special "Flight of the Conchords" comedy show a year ago. I never forgot that special that I on-demanded one night with friends and, have since, been singing their hilarious songs. Now, all the world can watch the band and bask in the glory of their humorous songs.

Its the whole package; their accents, their mocking of themselves, their hilarious lyrics, and the way they dance. Brett and Jermaine, the main characters and band members are funny and after watching "John from Cincinatti" i need a little humor in my life. The sub-characters, their agent Murray and a few other friends and a stalker-fan, make the show even more bizarre and hilarious. But, the best of it all is when they sing. My words can not demonstrate their humor...so let them do the talking.

"I’m not crying

I’m not crying
It’s just been raining on my face

And if you think you see some tear tracks down my face
Please don’t tell my mates" -Im Not Crying

"Oh my God.

She’s so hot.
She’s so flippin’ hot.
She’s like a curry.

I want to tell her how hot she is, but she’ll think I’m being sexist.

She’s so hot she’s making me sexist.Bitch." She's So Hot - Boom

"I’m the mother flippin’ Rhymenocerous

My beats are fly and the birds are on my back

And I’m horny

I’m horny

If you choose to proceed you will indeed concede

Cos I hit you with my flow

The Wild Rhino Stampede.

I’m not just wild, I’m trained,Domesticated

I was raised by a rapper and rhino that dated

And subsequently procreated

That’s how it goes"

In conclusion, watch this show. Its full-comedy-fun. A little bizarre, but hilarious. Plus, the debate rages over who is cuter Jermaine or Bret.

~The Lady~

Now Go We in Content

2007-07-24T18:07:00.000-07:00

"By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes." Macbeth's witches

I never thought I'd spend years of my life devoted to withcraft and wizardry...but, I have.

I dont know why I first started reading the Harry Potter books. The first one had come out and my friend's aunt, who was a teacher, loved it. I was peer-pressured into it, I borrowed it from my 8th grade best friend (who has since dissapeared from my life). Although I never speak to that best friend anymore, Harry and I still share a witchy love affair. Since I was 14 I have had a relationship with the books that only other Harry Potter lovers will understand.

One of the key elements to J.K Rowling's fabulous series is its relevance to the emotions and situations we've all been through. No, I've never stunned someone with my magic wand (although I've tried very hard) and, no, life isn't about stopping He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Yet, the books bring us back to that awkward stage in life where we didn't fit in except for a few friends, where school was tough and teachers were tougher, and where we felt every day was a battle against some evil in our lives. If the books don't bring us back they relate to us, the books make us feel things aren't as desperate, and give us the sense that "Well, shit, Harry has it worse."
The characters are engaging, realistic, and well developed. We can all feel for their situations, laugh with them, and cry with them or for them. J.K does it so well we feel we are them...in a creepy sort of way that breaks the second we stop reading the book. I've never been so wrapped into a novel, consistently throughout every book in the series, that I feel my blood pressure rise when I feel nervous for the characters. I literally feel for them. J.K knows how to engage her readers on that many levels.

Its not about the movies being good or bad. The movies are fabulous in their own right, they bring to life the thing we all love. I only hope the movies inspire people to read the books. The movies only give a flicker of what we true Harry Potter lovers love. We have two more movies to obsess over but, the books, now thats another story.

Its over. I'm okay with it being the ending and the ending Rowling laid out for me and her devoted fans was exactly what I wanted. I loved it actually. Closure. Its a little death in the way that the last novel so aptly discusses (I didnt ruin anything for those of us who haven't read the book yet). At the same time, things will change because I won't get excited for another book to be released and search the pages for answers. I have the very last released book. I have the answers. Time to obsess over something else.

Sure, I may have cried a little throughout the final book (not full on gushy tears but enough to realize my connection to a seemingly lifeless book). Sure, I may miss the releases of these books and the new developments yet, if there is one thing I am sure of its that I can always go back, re-read, and introduce these books to some unexpecting bystander who just wants to go to somewhere magical.

Heres till the next movie is released!

Dear Harry Potter,

I have a crush on you. It will be a lifelong one. Its ok if you've left me for good.

I still love you, ya' crazy little wizard.
Cheers to you,

~The Lady~

"Et tu, Brute?"

2007-07-04T18:54:00.000-07:00

"Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me."
--From Antony and Cleopatra (V, ii, 282-283)

Dear Ladies and Gentlemen, (who am I kidding, Lady and Gentleman)

I must make this quick but, on this evening of the 4th of July, I recieved this enlightening video clip from my dear ole' dad. Its long, 10 minutes, but I plead with you to watch the entirety, or a part, or whatever you can give it. Its a clip from the end of Keith Oberman's show last night and I just think he says far more than I could ever say and I want all to listen, closely, and enjoy.

Happy 4th of July! Please click below!

http://video.msn.com/v/us/msnbc.htm?g=8dd25465-1b2b-49e5-81ff-003005828d82&f=00&fg=email

~The Lady~

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

2007-06-20T09:33:00.000-07:00

"Out, damned spot! out, I say!"
--From Macbeth (V, i, 38)

I waited until the buzz died down to give my say on the final episode of The Sopranos. First let me explain my relationship with the show. My family, a loud group of Italian-Americans, loves the show more than their only daughter (me). Religiously, they'd all sit around the television waiting to see what sort of violent act would occur each Sunday night. Then, my father would piss and moan for hours on end about how The Sopranos would end a season in April and come back two years later. It made no sense yet, my family held onto the show tightly investing themselves in the lives of the Soprano clan.

Then, there is me. Over the past years I've watched The Sopranos like a good Catholic who goes to church only on religious holidays. The rare occasions I viewed I would ask my parents obnoxious questions through out the entire episode trying to get caught up. "Who got whacked last week?" "Who is Tony sleeping with?" "Why is that guys name Paulie Walnuts? Why not chestnuts or peanuts? Does he have a thing for walnuts? Does he like nut crackers?" I was usually asked to leave the room.

As much as I couldn't latch onto the show I understood the obsession. The show had everything; sex, drugs, violence, and fat Italian men. Who could ask for anything more? It was well written and, at some points, deeply intent on giving the mob layers of emotion and characteristics. Ok, ok, and sometimes its fun to watch someone get whacked in the privacy of your home.

As the end of the show approached I didn't expect much of anything. I wasn't making predictions but thought it was fun to hear what others assumed. Based on what I'd heard from my family about this final season I knew, deep down in my soul, the ending would not be what people expected or wanted.

Then, it happened. "Dont Stop Believing" blared and Tony and his family sat eating onion rings while Meadow Soprano couldn't parallel park. I looked at my watch and thought, "They have 2 minutes to rap this up." Based on my family's tense silence I refrained from sharing my observation and sat wondering "Will Tony get killed? There just isn't enough time!" When the screen went black my mother yelled out, "Oh, the cable would go out right now!" and I laughed and laughed. Soprano lovers everywhere got whacked.

True fans are pissed. I, on the other hand, liked the potential symbolism of the all-American mob family going to dinner in a diner (nothing could be finer) and Tony's paranoia that danger could creep around any corner at any time. I liked it. It was just what the audience didn't want or expect. At the time the show was developed a show like The Sopranos was something audiences didn't expect. It went out with a bang, er, actually, no bang at all. Anyway, it ended in a way that you decide what happens and everyone has been talking about it for weeks. You can't say that about the FRIENDS series finale now can you?

Atleast Carmella and Meadow didn't, at the end of the show, have 3 babies between the two of them and everyone was happily married. Now THAT would've been lame.

~The Lady (Bird Johnson)~

Not that I Lov'd Ceaser Less

2007-06-11T13:45:00.000-07:00

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?"
--From Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 33)

I love my boyfriend very much but if he never finds this post I'd be alright with it. This is it, my take on the men on television and film that make me swoon. Sometimes these men are the only reason I go to the movies...oh...and for entertainment. So, here it is, my top ten list of the hot actors. Get ready for the flames ladies and gents b/c these boys are SMOKING! Forget I said that. Finding pictures for this entry took hours because I got so distracted by their sultry features. Mmm...ok...I digress.

TOP TEN HOTTEST MEN (as I see it)
#10. Brad Pitt (in Troy and in Troy only)-I know, I know, how shocking that I think Brad is one of the hottest actors alive. Yet, I have a stipulation; I only think he is super hot in the movie Troy. I could take him or leave him in the Ocean’s flix (he has many other gents to compete with in my mind) or Mrs. and Mrs. Smith. When it comes to Troy though, he puts on that loin cloth and slays a man with a spear from miles away and my heart begins to flutter. So maybe I’m not in love with Brad Pitt but, instead, Achiles. Half a god! If he wasn’t a mythical character from ancient Greece he could have my heart on a silver platter. Shucks!

#9. Mark Ruffalo – To me, he is the quintessential guy. This man graces many a romantic comedy and he's charmed my pants off more than once. He reminds me of any number of my brother's friends (if they were cuter with better manners...and hygiene). I don’t think he tries too hard when he’s acting I think he’s just a man’s man and he could be this lady’s man if he wanted to be. I just want to pinch his cheeks! Too much? Moving on..

#8. Doug Savant - If you watch Desperate Housewives you will understand why I adore this man (well, not as much lately but I remember the good ole' days of Doug). He is the cutest husband ever on a television show where men and women tend to do bad things to one another. Him and Lynette are super cute together (once again, not as of late but I expect a comeback). If the writers of that show ever divorce those two I will never watch the show again. He's just adorable and the ideal husband to many female viewers who swoon over this FILF (father I'd like to *wink*)!

#7. Orlando Bloom- Only since the most recent Pirates of the Carribean movie have I fallen for Mr. Bloom. To be honest, in the Lord of the Ring trilogies I thought his character was, um, uh, a little…light in the loafers? *cough* Not that I don’t accept and love all people but I just thought…and in Troy he was annoying and whiney and the cause of Eric Bana’s death (see Bana later in this list) so I didn’t enjoy him till this last Pirates. I have since formed a crush on this young star and his swash buckling ways. I join the ranks of swooning pre-teens everywhere when I state that there is just something about Orlando Bloom.

#6. Hugh Grant – Hugh Grant is getting up there in years but has found a way to break out of the “I’m a pouty-nervous- good guy” roles he started his career with. He now plays manipulative, charming, asshole roles…and I love both sides of Mr. Grant. When I was young, and a bigger nerd than I am now, I loved Hugh in Sense and Sensibility and thats when I knew he was the Brit for me. I’ll forego the thought of him and that prostitute because, well, he’s so damned charming I’d forget about it instantly. He’d wink, smile, or nod his head and I’d melt. Damn Brits with their charm and lovely accents!

#5. Christopher Gorham- I am a big-HUGE Ugly Betty fan and Christopher plays the nerdiest-nerd, and love interest to Betty, named Henry. He plays this loveable nerd so well that, recently, I've taken to making my boyfriend (with his lame 20-20 vision) wear thick dark glasses. I think Mr. Gorham is one of the reasons I stuck to the show. He makes the nerd realistic, goofy, and romantic. He has avenged nerds everywhere, hey, they should make a movie about Nerds who take their revenge...

#4. Johnny Depp - Although most women swoon over Depp’s good looks I swoon over his acting. My lord, this man can play anything. He can work me into a frenzy with any character he takes on and he does so with every role. He could do an interpretive reading of the encyclopedia from A-Z and somewhere in there I would have laughed, cried, swooned and applauded. At the end of his reading I would probably hand him the Bible and tell him to go at it. I think I’d become more religious. Praise Jesus and pass me some Johnny Depp.

#3. Colin Firth – He's handsome, he's British, and he played Mr. Darcy in the original BBC Pride & Prejudice (did I mention I am a nerd?). Colin Firth is the sexy man of mystery in most of his movies. Then, when he finally does speak, its usually the sweetest lines writers have ever written. Him as Mr. Darcy in P&P changed my opinions about what a real man should be like. Bridget Jones' Diary talks of her love for the actor, Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. Then, as handsome as he could be, he played Mark Darcy in the movie. He has this sad look about him in most of his movies. Apparently he has a film out with loads of orgies in it called Where the Truth Lies. Next stop, Blockbuster! I just want to hold him against my bosom and cheer him up. Even in Nanny Mcphee with his foppish hair I just want to love him and, subsequently, take care of his 12 children. The things I’d do for Colin Firth.

#2. Eric Bana – In the film Munich Eric Bana plays an introverted, tortured, assassin leading a dangerous life and killing those he was hired to kill in honor of the Israelis who died at the Olympics. For some reason, even describing Eric Bana in this film makes me want to find & bed him. That’s sort of sick so I’ll move onto him in Troy where he plays a tortured Prince trying to save the ass of his brother and killing those who want to take down his beloved Sparta. Hm, I’m still sort of warped aren’t I? In conclusion, he’s hot and I love me some rough men who kill for the ones they love. Sicko.

And now, #1. Hugh Jackman – I love him. I love him so much that if he called me up today and said “Lady, to be mine you must scale the Empire State building” I would figure out a way to rig myself up that building and climb my way into his heart. I’ve loved him since Someone Like You (only true romantic-chick-flick fans would know of this one) when he acted tough but I knew, deep down, he was a softy. I loved when he got really hairy and muscular to play Wolverine in the X-Men movies. I think I fell deeper into love with him when he played an eccentric gay man on Broadway in Boy from Oz because, well, every man I love is either gay or gay. I would’ve sold my prized dog Vinnie to see him perform on Broadway. The Prestige made me want to love him more but I was already too deep. I think my love stems from seeing him in interviews and him seeming so nice and funny. That combo really adds to his tall and handsome look. Plus, I have a soft spot in my heart for men who can sing (which he can).

Now I'm sure many ladies, and some guys, are contemplating their own lists now -- matching theirs up to mine. Thats the beauty about your own personal top ten list its based on a lot of movies, characteristics you love about the bevy of handsome men out there and changes as much as we ladies change our hair color.

For now, sweet dreams of beautiful men!

~The Lady~

Fortune's Fool

2007-06-06T10:50:00.000-07:00

"We that are true lovers run into strange capers;
But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly."
--From As You Like It (II, iv, 53-56)

I am mere mortal and I have many loves of which some would see as "folly." That devilish phrase "guilty pleasures" comes to mind. Guilty pleasures, oh, I have a few.

There are some things I enjoy that I can proudly talk about. Socially acceptable areas of my "likes" that I can put in my facebook "About Me" section without feeling I will be judged too harshly. For example, biking or cooking. I might be looked upon as some sort of 45-year-old woman but, heck, atleast those are two acceptable activities.

Then, there are those dreaded likes...the ones no one should hear of let alone write down on an blog for all the world to see. Mostly these menacing loves come from the entertainment world. Yet, they are loves that my Communication degree, and any ounce of high culture I thought I was exposed to, yell at me "NO! TURN THE TELEVISION OFF! WALK AWAY!" But, I can't. And so I am a woman scorned with the love of many an unacceptable lover.

Nothing gets me going more than a good, or terrible, romantic movie. I sincerely mean that, nothing. Even thinking about it now makes me rather watch something juicy and cheesey like The Notebook. I cannot resist watching one loveless teen find romance with the popular jock. I get my fix of terribly corny teen-love from the new flick She's the Man *based on Shakespeare's Twelth Night (Billy Shakes is definitley rolling in his grave). I cannot turn Bridget Jones off without watching its entirety and, more likely than not, crying at some point. When people ask me my favorite movie I can't scream out "I LOVE 13 Going on 30" because they will, rightfully, mock my choice of fluffy-girl-movie. Yet, when I see the zany trouble Jennifer Garner gets herself into I laugh like a true 13 year old. I have discovered that this guilty pleasure is a genetic disorder stemming from (no, not my mother) my burly father. Yes, my manly-man father pretends he doesn't want to watch Notting Hill but, as the credits begin to roll, I see the tear he hides in the corner of his eyes. He also bought the soundtrack to the movie...yep...its all in the genes.

Along with my genetic-disposition for the romantic-movie I have developed, from my mother, the love of all television that is terrible. She and I can go for hours without watching one television show of any substance and feel fine about ourselves seconds after we snap out of our shit-TV induced comas. We love us some old fashion variety show in the form of America's Got Talent and American Idol. Oh boy, oh boy do I love watching people do stupid stunts for the camera and singing their hearts out for judges. Critiquing others is far easier than thinking about my daily failures and gosh do I want to avoid those for atleast 2 hours a night.

Yet, if there is one television genre I have developed a love for, with no help from my parents, its that of Wedding shows. I don't care who the bride and groom are, how attractive they are (or are not), where they're from, their color schemes, or how hideous the bride acts on the the day of the wedding, I love every second of it. I love the drama, the exaggerated drama, the choices, the beauty (or crap) the wedding planner creates. Visions of what I would've done differently dance in my head along with the "Funky Chicken" as I imagine how long this couple will last. This morning I found one of my favorite couples ever (I can say that because I watch enough of these programs to have favorites). They were sweet and really went with the vision of what the planner was thinking (a Morrocan inspired wonderland of crystals and colors...I...LOVED..IT). But, why? Why this fascination with other people's weddings? My own wedding is years (I mean lightyears) away from this very moment I type and, yet, I can't get enough of their plans. I feel somewhat like a creep. I'm the wedding crasher just admiring the lovely centerpieces from afar. I'm a stalker of someone else's happiness. I am, in fact, a big weirdo.

Thus, I cannot speak of my love for Wedding shows. I must conceal my true desire to not think real thoughts and watch other fools on television do foolish stunts to make a buck. I hide away in my bedroom crying when the girl and the guy in my movie don't get together but then, because of something contrived, they do and everything is beautiful and victorious and I'm sure they throw a killer wedding that is hopefully Morrocan styled with crystals. Perhaps these guilty pleasures are what keep me from living in reality. Perhaps reality television is so far from the truth that, as a robot-viewer, I can pretend for a while that life isn't hard and simply solved in a nice package at the end credits.

Whatever, time to go, Whose Wedding is it Anyway is on in 5!

~The Lady~

Why, then, the World's My Oyster

2007-05-30T09:40:00.000-07:00

"So wise, so young, they say do never live long." - King Richard III.

I am under the distinct impression that young celebrities should run America. Life would be grand if Lindsay Lohan was president. I imagine cocaine for everyone and jello shots to all who voted her into the oval office. “No Child Left Behind” would be changed to “No Child Left With Underwear” because, these days, underwear is, like, so 1999.

If Paris Hilton was vice-president she would be just the hottest ever. Forget poverty and hunger, everyone would get a Chihuahua to cheer them up. Who needs food? Anorexia is bigger than the hottest sunglasses this season. When President Lohan is out of the office, because of exhaustion or another attempt at rehab, maybe Britney Spears could fill in. Paris wouldn’t be able to do the job because she’ll be preoccupied with being, what’s the word…oh, right--incarcerated. Britney could expand the ideals of family values to the American people.

Only in dreams these idols could rule our country I suppose. Only in dreams they could take time out of their days to stop driving drunk, shaving their heads, and instead do something productive. I could only wish for these “women” to start doing something that young women everywhere could look up to rather than having me, little ole’ me, look down upon. When you have loads of money and “fame” does no one smack you in the face and say “Grow up!”

Speaking of morons, I have recently started watching, and enjoying, The View. That is, of course, till the recent argument between Rosie O’Donnell and Elisabeth Hasselback (I never trust anyone with a last name that begins with ‘Hassel’). I’ll admit it, I liked Rosie on The View. She added a much smarter voice to the panel discussions. Although she weekly said something that got her into the tabloids, the ratings of the boring-old-View went up since Rosie hit the stage.

The show has been on the air for 10 years. In the past 10 years this was the first time I ever saw anyone on that show say anything of importance. A show with five female voices should be able to intelligently argue the hot topics of the day but, no, they didn’t. For 10 years I watched them quarrel over trivial female issues and ridiculous fluffy topics and after a while I simply changed the channel. Rosie O’Donnell is brash and loud, yes, I’ll give you that. Yet, on The View she spoke the truth; a breath of fresh air filled with facts to back up her statements and not just a pretty dress and a smug-cutesy girl attitude. Her argument with Hasselback was valid and passionate. I watched the show when Hasselback continued to call the Iraqi people who have died in the war “terrorists.” Rosie got mad, rightfully, because some of these “terrorists” were merely civilians. In their final fight, Hasselback couldn’t even answer Rosie’s question.

Elisabeth seems to think if you don’t support the war you don’t support the troops—wow—I thought that form of thinking was archaic at best. I thought that kind of idiocy was recognized and frowned upon after Vietnam. This television personality, this voice for the female American, proved me wrong. So if I don’t believe in the war does that make me the enemy? Uh-oh, I'm in trouble then. I won't even get into her views on the morning-after pill, the HPV vaccination, or some of the more idiotic things she's said.

I despise the fact the media latched onto the fight of these two women rather then the content of their fight. Likewise, I wish stupid people wouldn’t always win such heated fights because they’re a cute blonde whose biggest claim to fame was being on Survivor. I’m not saying Rosie is the smartest woman in the world, I just wish there were better female role models for the daughters of today and tomorrow.

It will all be okay though. If we’re lucky, and by the time I have daughters of my own, Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan will rule this country. Drink up people, its time for some shots!

~The Lady~