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Archive for the ‘I need a life’ Category

I’ve never been someone who wanted to be famous. Actually, the thought alone gives me an anxiety attack. I hate being on camera. I look like a 12 year old fat kid on screen. I see cameras and run. Lightning speed. But I have to say, there is something mildly exciting in those few moments in life where “unexpected” fame finds you. (And let’s keep things relative here. When I talk fame, I’m talking about the 20 or so people in my life I actually force to give a damn)

This week, one of my good friends IM’d me “you’re famous” with a link to an article. Figuring it was a joke and he was just trying to lead me to midget porn, I opened it. Hey, I like little people! I practically am one! To my dismay, it was a real article. With no midget porn…. sigh. But then I saw it… my name! My tweet earlier in the day, had randomly been found by an author of an entertainment news article about the Twitterverse’s reaction to the lamest “reality” show  “The Hills” being canceled. My perfect soundbite, bashing my ex-employers once-hit show, seemed to complete his masterpiece. No better cosmic alignment could have prepared me for the out pour of attention I got. Hailed as a hero amongst many who had been tossed out on our asses from a once thriving music television network, I was giddy with joy.

My recent “brush with fame” got me thinking of the few moments in life I have been subjected to inadvertent fame. Since there was no Twitter until recently, my moments in the “spotlight” have all been on tv. And all have been not as joyful as my recent one. All of them have been incredibly awkward and weird. So I decided to pick a few and share them. ‘Cause I’m sure you’re all compelled. Just as I am to write this. Seriously, its Friday night, I haven’t left my couch since I got home from work, ate won ton soup and girl scout cookies for dinner and now have a 3rd wind at 2:30am. I pretty much rule. But… I digress.

My first appearance on tv happened to be on the local news back in the mid 1980’s. I had won a workout with Mary Lou Retton! Yes, THAT Mary Lou Retton. Off her big Olympic win, I got to stretch and do kart wheels and shake my ass in front of a large crowd at the Fox Hills Mall. A quick overhead camera pan over me doing some jazzercise moves nearly catapulted my celebrity career. I’m so glad the fame never went to my head…

Throughout my years in college in Santa Barbara, I worked at the Wherehouse music store. One Christmas season, the shopping center that our store was part of was doing a local cable commercial to generate some holiday buzz. I happened to be working the day they were shooting the commercial. They were looking for a young boy to be in the commercial to ‘act’ excited and overjoyed when Santa presented him with a brand new CD for Christmas. So who better to cast in a Christmas commercial than a 20 year old Jewish girl!? Apparently I looked 10, waspy, and have a boyish charm about me. I made my acting debut… and ended my acting career all in one cable access holiday commercial. I think I really made an impression on the public. At least  to my friends, mostly stoned out of their minds as I magically appeared on their tv screen.

Perhaps my most awkward television appearance was working on the tv show “The Osbournes.” We were doing a Christmas Special and a bunch of celebrities were coming to “join” the Osbourne’s big  Christmas Party. I, working in talent, was expected to escort in celebrities to the house. First up, JC Chasez, from N’Sync. I met him in the front yard and walked with him towards the house. As we approached the front of the house, the massive double doors opened and right in front of me was a giant camera.  It was like being on the edge of the Grand Canyon looking directly into the deep cavernous hole in the ground, staring directly into my own fateful death. Um. What did I do next? Contorted my body in a desperate attempt to get out of the shot. What did I end up looking like? Like some asshole attempting to do the snake. On national tv. I never made it out of frame. So instead, I was just some awkward random chick doing the snake, in the company of JC Chasez.  I learned my lesson soon after that, and decided to just keep my head down, hair in front of my face as to hide myself’ as I approached those massive doors again. Cut to: comedian Eddie Griffin, walking in with Cousin It. On National television.

I also played (forced actually) an extra twice, once as a karate student and once as a fearful hostage during my days working on the show “Once and Again.” I think I was cut out of both episodes. Coincidence? Hmmm… See, I’m just not meant to be famous. I accepted my fate years ago. My only times in the “spotlight” have been both awkward and embarrassing. I’ve embraced the fact I will never be that graceful, cool girl who happens to be walking by some camera men as they film. I’ll be the chick who walked by, fell over a planter, landing face first on the cement ground as security rushes to my aid to stop the gushing blood from my chin. And it will air… on national television.

Oh yeah, and there was that one time I was featured during an scandalous undercover report on 20/20 that led to a lawsuit. But that’s for another blog…

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Because I am so freakin’ tired and cannot leave my couch to actually watch the Grammys with others, I’m sitting here by myself doing a play-by-play of the show. Out loud. To myself. I’m kinda irritating. So I decided to write it down. If you wanna read, go ahead. Don’t feel like you have to. I wouldn’t want to.

I love award shows. Seriously. I get a weird high from seeing all those celebrities in one space. It’s the 12 year inside me who dreamt about being around all those people. And then after a decade of working with all those people, I now only dream about my couch.

Lady Gaga and Sir Elton GayGay. I think I just saw Lady Gaga smile. I didn’t think she was capable. She constantly shocks me.

… And THERE’S the obligatory iPad reference. Um, Thanks Steven Colbert.

Did Pink just piss herself?

Beyonce can usually sing anything and make it sound good. Except an Alanis Morrisette song. Duly noted.

Ugh… I hate when Miley Cyrus wears a cute dress and for one moment in time, I don’t hate her. Moment passed. Phew. I hate her again.

Do you think  The Black Eyed Peas know how lame they are and just dress like assholes cause they think “Hey, our songs are fuckin’ lame, we’re fuckin annoying… let’s dress like fuckin’ assholes!” Or am I giving them far too much credit?

The Jonas Bros irk me. Especially that young one. He takes himself too damn seriously. The Hanson Bros did too… now look at them. Right. You can’t find them. Chill out pretty boy.

Why is Jamie Foxx performing? I’m so confused. Didn’t that song come out like 3 years ago? Yes? No?  Is he even relevant to the Grammys this year? PS. He also can’t sing worth shit. But he IS great at yelling into his mic.  Really stellar yelling, Jamie.

Crap. I bought the pepperoni pizza Hot Pockets. Not Lean Pockets. Damn similar packaging. I mean I do not need the extra 10 grams of fat in these things. Sigh…

Oh look, Justin Beiber. Oh Look Ke$ha. Combined they have the intrigue of my pinky toe. If I had a daughter and she told me she thought Justin Beiber was super cute and super talented, I would smack her. I’m all for hitting your children if absolutely necessary.

Katy Perry and Alice Cooper are presenting together… What’s weird about this pairing, is I thought it was just Katy and Russell Brand.

Holy Hotness Chris O’Donnell. Should I be watching NCIS?!?I mean, has the guy aged? Doesn’t he have like 10 kids? Shouldn’t he look like hell? I do, and I’m childless.

Dear Grammys… next time you decide to pair the legendary and incredibly talented Stevie Nicks with the flash-in-the-pan Taylor Swift, please lower Taylor’s mic. Thank you.

WHAT? Nobody told me to get 3D Glasses!? Why the F wasn’t there an emergency breakthrough during a show last week on CBS to warn me? Way more important than flash flood warnings, CBS. Grrr. I’ve been dreaming of the day I would see Celine Dion in 3D. And now, here it is. And now, it will pass. I am so over 2D Celine Dion.

Michael Jackson’s kids… I don’t look as much like my own parents as those kids look like Debbie Rowe and Arnie Klein. Just sayin’…

WHAT? Beyonce recognized Jay-Z as her husband? In public? Like in front of people? I think that’s the most shocking event of the night.

Hot Damn LL Cool J. He never ages either! Seriously, I really should be watching NCIS.

How pissed would you be if you had the seat behind Lady Gaga? Excuse me Miss Lady Gaga, would you mind taking off the silver lightning bolts from your head so I can see the stage?

Taylor Swift wins again. Snooze. Sasha Fierce should kick her skinny lanky ass.

And thus ends the show. Meh.

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I live for pop culture moments. 2009 had no shortage of awesomeness and stupidity alike. Since it’s the end of the decade, I toyed with the notion of creating a list of the best moments of the decade. But since my memory barely makes it past yesterday, I didn’t feel like looking up ten years worth of moments. Laziness is a gene I embrace. Anyways, who cares what happened in like, 2003… except maybe some lame ancient historians!?

Mackenzie Phillips. She admitted to years of consensual incestual sex with her father. What’s next, Carnie Wilson admitting to consensual beastiality?

Tiger Woods. You’ve handled this all wrong… Just admit you’re a sex addict. Everyone still loves David Duchovny.

Carrie Prejean. I never thought there was anyone who could give Elisabitch Hasslebitch a run for her ignorant stupid money… but holy fake tits and sex tape, helllloooooo Carrie Prejean!

Perez Hilton getting beat up by the Black Eyed Peas’ Manager. Violence is never the answer. Ok, Ok. Sometimes it IS. Boom Boom Pow, Bitch!

Octomom. Somebody put a muzzle on that crazy whore. And get one for that stupid mouth of hers, too.

Miley Cyrus dances on a stripper pole during an Awards show. Yeah, so… I bought my 7-year-old niece a dildo. Kids grow up so fast these days… sigh…

Michael Phelps. Look, anyone that can take de-enhancing drugs and still manage to be the most decorated Olympian in history deserves well… another fuckin’ medal. Now superstar, go and pack me a bong load and let’s do the butterfly stroke!

Brett Favre. I could care less about football. Yet Brett Favre made this list. That’s how much he irked me this year.  I never thought I would say this… but he should really take a lesson from Sarah Palin. Quit. And stay a quitter.

Sarah Palin. (See: Brett Favre)

Lady Gaga. I really wish she would come up some creative ways to express herself.

Twilight Mania. It’s the one double standard I can live with. Older men pining after young girls, gross. Older chicks pining after hot young boys… meow. Leave me alone.

Kanye West & Taylor Swift.  Taylor, I hope you sent Kanye a really nice Christmas present for making you a household name. Seriously, my 92 year old grandma even knows your name. Or, hmmm… maybe she thought I was referring to Taylor Lautner. My Grandma is a cougar.

Susan Boyle. I admit it, I shed a few tears as I watched her sing. I shed a few more when I caught a glimpse of her massive eye brows. Then I cried a bit harder when I realized a  ‘makeover’ had made no improvement.

The Gosselins. Oh they have kids!?!? Really? Oh, 8 of them? Hm. Who knew!?

 

Kevin Jonas gets married. The oldest Jonas Brother finally got to take off  his purity ring and put in a special box. No, NO Kevin.. not in THAT box!

Summer of Death. If I was a celebrity, I would have planted myself in a bubble and lived happily behind a glass partition. If Michael Jackson was smart, he would have continued living in his hyperbaric chamber. But no… we all had to make fun of him. Now he’s dead. Good job, people.

“Megan Wants a Millionaire” contestant Ryan Jenkins. I mean, this story had everything… a millionaire reality show contestant, a stripper, a gruesome murder, a international man hunt, a suicide.  The guy probably would have done realllly well on “Survivor.” I suppose we all make bad choices in life.

Levi Johnston. Seriously, the kid was  born with a porn name. His parents practically groomed him for Playgirl. Don’t hate.

And of course… our newest friend this year, Swine Flu. Stupid kid deserves a spanking.

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I feel like I am in the dark ages. Yes. I’m being overdramatic. And NO. I don’t care…

So a couple months ago, I realized my Dual Turner Tivo went all wack-a-doo and only was recording one show at once. (That would forfeit the “dual” description seeing as dual equals two.. and well, I’m sure you get it.). Being it was summer, and though having a bevy of shows I still watch religiously (Big Brother. Jeff. Sigh) none conflicted so I put off calling Tivo for months. I mean cause really, who in their right mind enjoys calling any customer service center. I swear I am allergic to them. And India.

Last night as I so geekily prepared my Tivo with season passes for the new Fall Season starting (ahem, tonight) my procrastinating ass decided TODAY was the day I called Tivo. Figuring they could fix something remotely, I decided to put my bitch personality on hold, and made the phone call to India. I mean, Tivo.

I explained to Susan, my seemingly non-Indian customer service representative, what my issue was and she immediately hit me with news I was not expecting to hear. So remember that whole “switch to digital” that happened a few months back?  The one I would make fun of constantly and wished bad things upon the people who still had bunny ears up their asses.. I mean, on their tv’s? Well karma is a bitch. That switch to digital made my Dual Tuner Tivo about as useful as my old school VCR. Turns out the Dual Turner Tivo used one analog input, and one digital input to record two shows. Since analog no longer exists, neither does that second porthole into awesome television goodness.

badtivo

So now I am at a crossroads. I have three options. One: upgrade my Tivo box to a fancy one with two digital turners for 200 bucks (ugh); Two: switch to Time Warner DVR which is about as useful Paris Hilton at an abstinence convention; Or Three:  Head to the AT&T Uverse headquarters and demand they FINALLY make service available in my area. I will use force if i have to.

Seeing as option three could land me in jail, I may pass. I’m sure there they don’t even get Bravo in Prison.  But seeing as Time Warner DVR is perhaps the most stupid and dysfunctional dvr system in existence, I worry I will land in the looney bin attempting to watch both “Glee” and “Modern Family” in one night. Buying a new Tivo Box seems to be the  best option, given in over the 5 years I’ve had Tivo Service… I’ve been in love. But seeing as I have no actual income, spending an extra $200 on something that I could get a way shittier version of, for free, would make me the most irresponsible person…ever. But, irresponsible is far better than a convict or mental ward patient. RIGHT?

Maybe I should have a bake sale to pay for my new tivo box. I’m making two cupcakes. Each one will cost you 100 bucks. They’re really f’in great cupcakes, damnit.

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After seeing an early evening showing of  “Inglorious Basterds”, I came home changed into my PJ’s, logged onto Facebook, and excitedly waited for ” Big Brother” to start. It was yet another lovely Sunday summer evening. As I was about to head to the kitchen to make some food, my cell rang. It was one my best friends calling. I pick up wondering why after just dropping me off, she wanted to chat.

“Hello?”

“OMG. I NEED YOU TO COME OVER! RIGHT NOW! I AM FREAKING OUT. FLIPPING OUT.”  The voice on the other end was half crying/half hysterics/half insanity (yeah. yeah. I know that’s 3 halves. I’m not in the mood to  count.)

My heart pounding that I may have to call 911, I ask urgently “What is wrong!?”

“I was just in my bathroom, picked up a towel and a HUUUUUUUGE COCKROACH RAN OUT. OMG. HELP ME. I AM GOING TO DIE. OMG. I THINK I AM DYING. OMG. I NEED YOU TO COME OVER AND KILL IT RIGHT NOW.”

“Are you kidding?!?! I say with a breath of relief. “I’m in my PJ’s. Just shut your bathroom door till your man comes to your place later. He’ll kill it. Just calm down…”

“NO I CANNOT WAIT FOR HIM. I CANNOT GO IN THERE! I CANNOT BE IN MY PLACE WITH THAT THING ALIVE. I CAN’T BREATHE. I CAN’T MOVE. YOU ARE CLOSER AND I NEED YOU TO COME OVER RIGHT NOW.”

“Seriously?  It’s a cockroach. Yeah, it’s disgusting and gross, but… ” (at this point I realize no rational discussion on my end is going to change anything) ” OK fine. Let me change my clothes and I’ll be right over.”

I get dressed. Get into the car. My phone rings.

I NEEEEEEEED YOU TO STAY ON THE PHONE WITH ME UNTIL YOU GET HERE! I AM NOT OK! OMG! WHAT IF THERE ARE MORE? DO YOU THINK THERE ARE MORE? WHAT IF THEY ARE IN MY BED??? WHAT IF… WHAT IF.. WHAT IF… A 5 minute car ride with various cuss words, screams, whimpers, cries, and irrational thoughts ensues…

I arrive at her apartment to find my friend in hysterics standing atop her couch screaming like a lunatic. My friend, mind you who is a therapist, is highly trained to help people from falling off the deep end. OH. THE. IRONY.

“Give me a magazine. Give me some paper towels!” I order her.

“OMG, YOU ARE GOING IN THERE?! OMG WHAT IF ITS IN MY BED? OMG. I CAN’T. OMG. OMG. I AM NOT OOOOOO-K!!!”

“Yes, I see THAT! But stop screaming and give me something to kill it!”

I grab a magazine, some paper towels and go on a roach hunt.

gcockroachnimis01

I hear screams from the other room. “DID YOU FIND IT? OMG. WHERE ARE YOU? IS IT THERE? ARE THERE MORE? IS IT DEAD YET!?! OMG. I AM GOING TO DIE!!!!!”

Ignoring her as I face my own fears of coming across a disgusting roach, I search the room. And there it is. It’s nasty! It’s big! WHACK. The bastard is DEAD.

I come out of the room with it rolled into the magazine and am ordered to go to the trash chute to dispose. I walk back in to a still insanely frantic friend pacing jumping around like a lunatic believing it has since spawned an entire village of roaches who are now occupying every empty space in her apartment.

Half paying attention to her insanity, half realizing she just has to process her emotions , I let her continue on like a irrational lunatic.  I sit down on the couch to check my blackberry (and to prove there are no roaches in her couch cushions)  I see I have a new BBM from another of my best friends… I open it…

I AM FREAKING OUT. DO YOU HAVE ANY BITES ON YOUR ARMS?

“No” I respond via bbm. Having just hung out with her the night before, outside in the sticky heat, she assumed any bites she had, I may as well.

YOU DON’T?! OH NO! I AM FREAKING OUT! I THINK I HAVE BED BUGS IN MY NEW PLACE! OMG. OMG… I AM GOING TO HAVE A PANIC ATTACK. I THINK I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. I CAN’T BREATHE…

I call her… and thus begins a 30 minute conversation, attempting to calm yet ANOTHER frantic friend who is convinced the world is being taking over by bugs…  She is sending me links from the hundreds of articles she has already found about bed bugs. She is threatening to move from her newly purchased loft downtown, and to sleep in the hospital for the night. As I am about to head downtown to save her from the bugs and the loony bin she is about to land in, she pops a xanax and calms down, and calls an exterminator.

Thank god for Tivo… Two hours later, I finally got around to watching “Big Brother”

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