UPDATE

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

"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

"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

"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!

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

"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

"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~