Letting Someone Down Semi-Gently

Ok...so I have a confession in that I violated my own rules of nothing text messaging. Before going all up in arms, all 45 of you that read this, half of whom are married and don't have to worry about this ish, calm down. I tried to make things right via in-person communications first, but couldn't. The person wasn't there. So I had to reach out electronically. Get over it.

Anyways, about three weeks ago, I went out on what I thought was dinner but was actually a full-blown date that the other person took very seriously. As previously mentioned, the person did just about everything wrong. Got way ahead of themselves in terms of future dates, made presumptions, told me the price of everything (my number one ultra, ultra pet peeve), and even asked me if I watched porn. You can't make this stuff up. I should also note, that the tables in the restaurant were very close together and the very proper gentleman at the next table over heard this question, gave us a dirty look and it was right around that point that I decided I'd like to crawl under the table and die. And just because it's hilarious, somewhere around the middle of the date, this very white guy (well...half Puerto Rican, half Italian, but looks white) started referring to himself in the third person as "this n****).” Which also horrified me because next to the C-word, that's the only word in the English language that makes me absolutely sick. But at the same time, I was like did you just refer to yourself in the third person? And as this n*****? Are you serious? Am I on camera somewhere?

Anyways, needless to say, by end of the entrees, I knew we were not a match made in heaven. Hell maybe. But not Heaven.

I took a few days off from the store where I see this person so as not to give the wrong impression. I then received a text message a few days later asking me out for dinner and drinks. I had several problems with this.

1.) Pick up the damn phone and ask.

2.) I didn't want to go.

3.) I didn't want to respond.

4.) I had no idea what to do.

So I just didn't write back. First of all, it was Friday night. And my friends and I were just discussing that unless you are serious, you don't go on weekend dates with anyone. That's the time where you can get drunk with your friends and meet more dates. Not for hanging out with Wigger McGee. Second of all, I refuse to engage in texting communications - not to be asked out and not to turn someone down. In retrospect, it would have been best to answer back, “sorry, have plans.” Because that would have communicated my non-interest...but lessoned learned.

So anyways, I don't answer and then I just disappear. To this guy, at this point, I was like f*cking Keyser Soze. A figment of his imagination. But then I felt bad so I went to the store just to say look, I'm super busy, and thanks, but no thanks blah blah blah...but he wasn't there.

So I texted him what I thought was quite clever - "I owe you an apology. Been working like crazy. Will try to stop in store this week." It says nothing, it promises nothing, it is nothing. Which violates my rule, but you know what, my heart was in the right place.

His response? Oh you are alive.

Oops. But the good news is, that I could probably be an awesome CIA agent since I managed to elude seeing him, actually convincing him I very well may be dead, for nearly a week at this point.

My response? Barely but yes. Which was also a lie. But whatever.

So anyways, another week goes by and yesterday I get a new text which says "Damn was the date that bad"

Again, several problems with this.

1.) Give it up.

2.) Yes it was.

3.) Now I have to call.

I refuse, REFUSE I SAY, to text back. I do feel bad. It's not this guys fault that he obviously has no idea that he's an idiot in the women department....but at the same time, it's not my fault either. But after speaking about it with P., proper protocol would be to call, tell him I am sorry for disappearing (WHICH IS A LIE, I'M NOT SORRY), tell him I have been busy with work and my friends (WHICH IS NOT A LIE) and that after thinking about it, I am just not ready to date yet. (ALSO A LIE. BUT AGAIN...WHATEVER.)

So I'm doing that today. Given that 2/3 of this conversation will be me talking out of my ass, I wouldn't say that I'm handling this maturely, but you know what? I'm new to this, so I haven't gotten my head wrapped around all these new things I have to do and say and learn. Plus, I'm pretty sure I don't have to be mature with Whitey Mc-Wish-I-Was-Black. Don't think he'll be any the wiser.

This is Bulls***

http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-ca-danecook3sep03,0,6295227.story

This guy has the balls to call out Dane Cook for not being funny because his comedy doesn't come from a dark place. First of all, I hate when people judge comedy by what they think their definition of funny is. Comedy is subjective, that's why we can all appreciate the various forms of absurdity life throws at us. Second, who the F*** cares if comedy comes from a dark place or a light place? The world, as we know it, seems sometimes like its slowly spinning out of control -- shouldn't we be thankful for the brief moments we have where we can forget all our problems, and the problems of our country and of mother nature, and everything else, and just laugh? And we owe it to those who provide those moments, no matter who they are, whether its Dane for me or Jon Stewart for you, and just appreciate them for what they are? Ugh, reporters make me so mad! And for once it's not just because I'm in PR!

Panic! At The Disco

Once again, I'm like eight years behind on what's cool in music, but luckily I discovered these guys. I recently had the pleasure of meeting them at the VMA lounge where I met Snoop but have to say, at first I was a little unimpressed. They are like these super-skinny little boys with flat ironed hair straighter than mine (and let me just tell you that's an accomplishment) and eyeliner. But I had heard the buzz about their song "I Write Sins Not Tragedies" so I decided to download it for myself and find out what the hoopla was all about. Then I downloaded every song of theirs and have been playing it non-stop. I highly recommend "Nails for Dinner and Tacks for Snacks" and "Lying is the Most Fun Thing A Girl Can Do Without Taking Her Clothes Off" and not just because the titles totally kick ass. The lead singers voice is just really cool and the beats are awesome. Think danceable punk. This is how I always wanted to feel about Green Day but just couldn't. And I know I'm like the only one...but what can I say? I just wanted to listen to Tupac and throw west sides around that age.

A Moment To Be a Girl

I just have to take a moment to say, that tonight I realized I am very lucky. I moved to New York just over two years ago (two years and a week to be exact) with a dollar and dream. No just kidding, I had more than a dollar. But my dream was to find a group of girls to gallavant around New York with, live beyond my means with, eat brunch with, hang out with. This past weekend I realized I've totally found that. And it sounds sooooo corny and I just can't even believe I'm writing it down for people on the Internet to read, but it's true. And I'm very thankful because no matter what else I feel may be missing from my life - my perfect job, my perfect boyfriend, my perfect bank account - at least I have that. And that's what counts more than anything in the end. Now, I just have to work really hard to remember that every day. Easier said than done.

Steve Irwin...So Sad

I'd be remiss if I didn't write a little something about the passing of Steve Irwin. His death was very, very sad and it just struck me that you don't know how much you mean to the world until you are gone. Who would have thought that the Crocodile Hunter would have been the lead story....and on MySpace I was really struck on how many people posted the news on his death. And I'm not saying this to be funny, but it just goes to show...don't be scared to stick your head in a crocodile's mouth (and I feel like this could also double as a great life metaphor), freakier things will get you in the end.

Without Further Ado...

Don't ask me how a white girl who grew up in Boca Raton becomes obsessed with hip hop, but all I can tell you is that it happened. The good news is, in the years since my youth I have expanded my musical tastes well beyond just the hip-hop realm, but there is still a special place in my heart for the rappers I grew up listening to.

Nevermind that many of them are semi-violent criminals who would punch me in the face just as soon as they'd look at me...I love them just the same.

That's why, last week, I was excited almost to the point of bursting open, when I came face to face with Snoop Dogg. My number two celebrity picture choice of all time.

I was working at an event prior to the VMAs, where celebrities come through to collect free products from companies. I was there on behalf of a nutritional bar. I must admit, it was a little bit hard to get them to pay attention when across the way D&G sunglasses and diamond jewelry were being given away, but that was my job.

Just moments before Snoop entered, I had suffered a mini-meltdown when Jordan Knight of New Kids on the Block walked into the room. It was like I was seven years old all over again...I clammed up and couldn't speak and felt myself getting flushed. Much like I did at the New Kids Concert I attended in second grade. However, I composed myself and wound up having a twenty minute conversation with Jon Knight, brother of Jordan and less-cute Knight Brother. The point being that I cut my teeth learning how to talk to celebrities with him and so when I was given the heads up that Snoop was going to be entering a few, I got my head and wits together and was ready to talk to him before I lost him to the sunglasses and diamonds.

Imagine, if you will, a triange. Whereas I am one point, and directly across in the other two points are the D&G people and the Diamond Princess (who was a huge bitch, p.s.) Snoop walks directly in front me, cutting the triangle in half.

I call out: "Snoop, would you like an Atkins bar?" Never imagining in a million, trillion years that he'd actually turn around.

Snoop: (insert Snoop Dogg voice as well): Is that like a candy bar?

Me: Well...it tastes like a candy bar, but it's better for you. You know, like if you're trying to stay in shape or something.

Snoop (with a tummy pat): But I already am in shape.

Me: (winking): Well, if you want to stay more in shape. (I have no idea what the hell that meant, but at that point all I could think of was the fact that I was actually having a conversation with Snoop D-O-double-gizzle.)

Snoop: Okay I'll try one.

Me: (hands Snoop several bars trying not to let him see that my hands are shaking).

Snoop: Do you need to take my picture with it?

Me: Yes. (takes picture.)

Me: And can I take my picture with you too?

Snoop: Sure.

Me: (Runs over and gives him a giant hug. Realizes what I'm doing. Pull back a bit). Oh my god, this is a dream come true.

Snoop: Haha

Me: No, seriously, I can sing you every word to Americas Most Wanted. It's my favorite song. If you want.

Snoop: Ha. (Head shake.)

Me: (Deep breath to keep from fainting.)

And that was it. Then he was off to peruse all the other goods in the room, and I immediately began texting anyone who would appreciate what was most definitely the most exciting moment of my life...pretty much ever. I actually felt so happy on the inside that I wanted to explode. I imagine that only my wedding day and the birth of my first child would feel any happier than that. And I only wish I was joking.

Other celebrities I met that day? Dhani Jones of the Philadelphia Eagles, Panic! At the Disco (my new obsession), the owners of Stereo nightclub in NYC, the band Disturb'd, Fieldy from Korn, Brooke Hogan, Steven from Laguna Beach, a couple of girls from Americas Next Top Model, Saigon (and yes I made a lame joke about screwing over Turtle in Entourage, and then he massaged my arm in a wierd way when we were posing for a photo)...and a few others who I guess aren't important enough to remember. All in all...an excellent day.

But not as excellent as this:

This.Is.Fantastic.

Behold...Kevin Federline's new music video. It is officially the awesomest horrible thing I've ever seen.

Some initial thoughts:

1.) Take off the Yankees hat. You embarass Yankees fans.

2.) Why do you rap in that wierd voice?

3.) Hip-hop is boycotting Cristal Kevin Federline. Therefore, giving it a shout out in your song pretty much sums up your credibility.

4.) Air guitar? Really?

5.) What is the weird jerky dance move you do near the end? Aren't you supposed to be a dancer? I've seen seizures that look better than that.

6.) You call yourself out for being a superstar. A superstar of what exactly? You had to finance your own record and your own video...with your wife's money I'd imagine. The only superstar that makes you the kind that figured out how to marry Britney Spears, end her Cinderella story and squander all the money she earned acting like a whore.

That's all for now. I need to go vomit up dinner.

The Greatest Night of My Life...

...recently took place. At a work event no less, so I got paid to have the best night ever. It requires some explanation, which I will work on over the weekend, but if the picture of me below with JON KNIGHT of NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK doesn't show you how freaking awesome it was, than nothing will.


However, my coup d'etat was not Jon, but another celebrity who I have always dreamed of taking a picture with. All I have ever wanted, by way of celebrity photos, are pics with three people:
1.) Tupac, and if my conspiracy theory checks out, I will still get this picture one day
2.) My mystery celebrity to be revealed over the weekend
3.) Shaquille O'Neal, and we are comparing hand sizes and laughing like we are old friends who do these silly things on occasion

One hint is that I have no idea why my three celebs of choice are all black men, but it is what it is and I'm not questioning it. However, I have effectually checked number two off the list. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, here's another photo of me and my new boyfriend Steven from Laguna Beach. He's like totally into me...but you know. I have to play the field a bit.

Jessica Simpson is Dating John Mayer

YESSSSS. This means she is not dating Dane Cook, which means the coast is clear for me to do so. Unless George Eads and I meet. Then Dane and I might done. Or, if Mark Wahlberg decides he's madly in love with me, then the both of them are done.

Another Reason to Hate Clowns

In Ireland today, a hot-air balloon caught fire during a circus stunt, killing a clown acrobat as dozens of children watched.

Now this is obviously sad and I’m sorry that it happened. But it also just gives me another reason to hate clowns.

I never used to hate clowns, it was everyone else’s fear of clowns that made me take a closer look at how freakish they really are. If you are a clown and are reading this, I’m sorry…but there is something scary about the Casper face and giant blood red mouth that are the staples of most clown faces. Those huge eyes…ugh I shudder just thinking about it.

Not too long ago, I rented the David LaChapelle movie Rize about a group of people in California who krump, which is this crazy form of dancing..but they do it dressed as clowns. The movie got great reviews and I’m all for dance movies in general…but about a half hour in, I just couldn’t get over the clown thing. And crazy looking clowns doing crazy, seizure-like dances? Are you kidding me? It was terrifying. I should also note that this was the same day as St. Patrick’s Day in Hoboken, where I drank for 11 hours straight before getting a piece of pizza, stealing a Snapple, shoveling some M&M's in my mouth, running for the Path train and then collapsing on my couch with only a vague idea of how I go there. So I may have been pre-disposed to terror, but only a little bit.

Witnesses at the circus said the man, dressed in a clown outfit, was hanging from a cage suspended by ropes and a hot-air balloon inside the canvas tent. When the balloon exploded in flames, the cage fell on top of the man.

How ironic is it that this happens, but never the guys who work with the lions or bears? It’s always the f***ing clowns isn’t it?

A little pissy....

http://www.forbes.com/home/2006/08/23/Marriage-Careers-Divorce_cx_mn_land.html


Attached is the link to a disturbing article recently written by a male writer at Forbe’s magazine, as well as the rebuttal written by his female colleague.

The gist of the male writer’s article is that men should not marry career women. Her rebuttal is that men should be open to learning the things that a successful spouse brings to the table.

The person who sent me the article is the type of person who wouldn’t mind getting married, quitting work and start pumping out babies - and I don’t hold that against her, it’s her choice. But I know she also sent the article out of fear…almost a here you go ladies, I told you so. I’m not meeting anyone because I have a degree. It’s just who this girl is.

But I was offended that she sent it to me and I told her so because she knows (at least I think she does) that I am not like that. And I disagree with the female writer’s basic point of view. Though I agree that two people can both be successful AND happy, I think the underlying problem of the male writer’s article boils down to insecurity.

My rebuttal would have been simple. Grow a set and shut the fuck up. If you can’t handle that the person you are with may be more successful than you, then the issue isn’t the person, it’s you. And your ridiculous ego. There are plenty of girls out there who want to be taken care of, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. That’s a choice, and the beauty of this day and age is that the choice falls squarely on you. And from what I’ve seen, it’s pretty clear from the get-go when you meet someone what type of life that person wants to lead. Or, throughout the course of the relationship it's something that is discussed...evolved...whatever. But I highly doubt that two years into a marriage, any woman whips around one day and says you know what? All this time I've said I've been a receptionist, but actually, I hold dual masters degrees from Princeton and Yale..and surprise! I'm a CEO!

It should be no huge awakening if a woman's career takes off or if she becomes successful. After all, anyone with a degree hopes for this for at least some part of their working life and the pursuit of that success should be very plainly obvious to a spouse. So if it does happen, and if a man holds that against her, knowing full well who she is before they get married...than he is an asshole and she is better off without him. I’m so tired of men (and women) blaming women for success. Welcome to the 21st century assholes…deal with it.

The Rules of Text Messaging – Continued

Although I don’t have any new rules to add to the list just yet, I do want to pat myself on the back for taking my own advice. I received a text message and had two options:

1.) Not respond
2.) Respond with a nothing text

Since I was just in the position of corresponding with someone who sent me nothing text messages, I decided to go with option 1. Because to receive a text message that says nothing accomplishes nothing. It doesn’t make the receiver feel any better and it doesn’t let the sender do what they really want, which is to communicate to the receiver that they are not interested. In the spirit of do unto others, the next time I see the person I am just going to let them know I am not interested and be done with it.

Congratulations to me for taking the first step to maturity… in the text messaging department at least.

August 25

August 25

Today is a small vindication day for me of sorts. This was supposed to be the day my dad and I moved me back to Florida. Last night, we were supposed to go to dinner and a show and then load up the van and begin the two day drive.

About three weeks ago, I called that off believing it was a mistake. Last night, I went to the coffee shop to finish up a job and today, rather than leaving NYC behind, I am sitting in my room doing work on another job.

Yesterday, I made my room into a little office and it worked extremely well. Today I have done the same thing. I am not sure where this road is leading just yet, but if this week was any indication, I will be fine and I am excited.

I had such a different vision for this day for so long, it’s so interesting to realize that it’s never a good idea to try and crystal ball your future – you never know what’s coming your way.

Project Runway

Ummmm…pretty much this is the best show ever made. What really sucks though is that one of my assignments is doing work for Fashion Week and it’s not inconceivable that I could have gotten tickets to the finale through my contacts. What SUCKS ASS is that I will not be in New York on that day. What ROCKS is that I will be on a cruise ship, but when my choices are between have fun or have fun, I always get frustrated. Anyways, next season I will plan better and I will be at that show dammit. Or I will kill people trying to get there.

Anyways, my front runner is Uli. I think she makes the most beautiful things, and she does it all so quietly and without causing any drama. My second favorite is Michael – his style is so smart and sophisticated, and he’s another one who causes zero problems. Just comes in, kicks ass and leaves. I really hope these two make it to the finals. I’m trying to decide who I think should be the third. Laura has not made anything ugly yet, she’s consistent, but a bit boring and predictable. I really liked Allison and didn’t think she deserved to get kicked off last week, so that’s not a possibility. Kane can be a bit over the top but he’s always fun. Jeffrey was cool til this week…I’m not sure…think I need one more episode to see who takes that third spot, in my expert opinion.

Monday

Now that I've figured out how to earn an income while I'm figuring out what to do with the rest of my life, I am going to start writing my book in earnest on Monday. I now have the resources and time to work on it, and that's all I've been saying I've needed. And now I have it so there's no excuse. I have the whole thing written in my head, just gotta get it out on paper. Or screen, as it were.

Ugh

New Gym Boyfriend

I am happy to report that I have a new gym boyfriend. FINALLY. I was getting sick of having to rely on my old one for distraction while I toil away on the treadmill. Because he's a douchebag. I found out he has a girlfriend for sure, so that pretty much solidified the "break-up" I imposed on our non-relationship a few months ago.

On a sidenote, I must say, not working has agreed with me in the sense that I’m definitely the skinniest since I’ve been since about 18 years old…I’m only five pounds away from my soccer weight…and although I don’t have the definition I had back then I’m still pretty happy with the way I look. Especially since I’m taking a cruise in a few weeks and I didn't want to have that pasty, fat girl look about me, which was the path I was headed down. It’s bad enough I look like Casper wearing white makeup half the time, I didn’t want the lower belly roll and cellulite to complete the look.

Anyways, last Saturday I spied a new Gym Boyfriend, but the problem is I have no idea what his workout schedule is, so seeing him will be a crapshoot at best. However, this is good because I’m not into being a stalker…not a full-fledged stalker anyways. If he walks in great, if not, staring out the window it is.

Wedding Solo

Long story short, I totally f***ed up my first wedding by myself. Thinking I would need to combat any depression that would choose to present itself from having to do my first wedding alone, I drank heavily. All was fine through dinner, when actually my friend’s date gave me his lobster and all his sushi…which made me extremely happy because that meant I had two lobsters. However, eventually the alcohol settled and I began to not feel well. I attempted to dance it out, however, the band was not playing the type of music I liked, plus I had no one to dance with. There were two other guys at the table, neither of which struck my fancy. But as it turns out, it was no matter because I had to go to the bathroom and throw up anyway. Right in the middle of the damn wedding, which is like the unclassiest thing I think I’ve ever done. The good news is, I felt better and the bathroom contained a toothbrush so my secret was safe. But still. For Christsakes I threw up at the wedding. On the upside, I consumed no calories in the end, helping me on my weight loss goal. On the downside, I believe that is called bulimia.

Dating Sucks

I knew the day would come eventually, but last week I received my first rejection. I went on a date with someone and they blew me off after. I am fine with this. It happens to everyone and I knew my day would come. However, attempting to heal my ego a bit, I accepted a date with someone who I really didn’t want to go on a date with. I told my friends that "lower standards were the new high standards." They all begged me to reconsider, but that was my new position and I was sticking to it. But as it turns out, you should always trust your instincts, or at the very least, your friends. The date in and of itself was fine…just very awkward. For example…the guy asked me out on a second date. My reply, maybe we could get through dinner first? He literally asked me out again before the main entrée came. He also asked me about ten times how he was doing. And if I was having fun. And that he couldn't believe I said yes to going out in the first place. Then, he asked like ten more times. I wanted to die. Anyways, long story short, I’ve reversed my position on lowered standards. You can have low expectations, but not low standards. If not, you wind up with someone who told you they went out and bought new shoes and new socks, because they didn’t own any that were appropriate to “go out with a girl like you.” And then he told me how much they cost. And he told me how much his TV costs, how much he pays in child support, how much he spent at brunch last week, how much he is going to tip our waitress, how much he tipped the waitress last week (that was after he told me he asked the restaurant manager to fight him outside), and long story short, I can tell you every penny that he has spent in the last two weeks...including how much he paid for the outfit he was currently wearing in order to go out with me. Yeah...I've reversed my opinion on low standards.

I Hate To Say I Told You So But....

....I was right in regards to how I thought Kevin Federline would be received by the hip-hop community.

http://www.cnn.com/2006/SHOWBIZ/Music/08/22/music.kfeds.debut.ap/index.html

I think I will head over to any open auditions for E, Access Hollywood or VH1 have in the near future.

I won't even get into Britney, as my sentiments on her are clear. All I can say is I saw that s*** coming in 1999 when she first came out. How sweet it is to be proven right!

I'm Bringing Sexy Back

To be honest, I'm not sure I can say anything that this picture doesn't.

Like Bill Maher, I'm Making New Rules

Post Number 100

This is my 100th post - hooray!

Rules of Engagement: Text Messaging

Over the weekend, my friend Am. broke up with her boyfriend of six years via text message, pretty much ushering in a new era for boys and girls everywhere. It is now official that there is nothing that can't be done via text message, but it begs the question, what SHOULD be done via text message?

I remember when I first started using text messaging, it was for trying to find people in crowded bars, maybe sending a phone number or directions - little tiny things. I'm not exactly sure when it escalated into an alternate means of communication - with everyone, including my mom. Everyone is doing it. And I think it's problematic. As do my friends, especially Am. who is not exactly jumping up and down about the fact that her six year relationship ended by her dialing on her telephone key pad.

So we started discussing today new rules for text messaing. Things that should be done to ensure that you don't get caught up in this phenomenon. The first few thoughts are as follows:

1.) Just pretend you don't have it when you first meet someone. That way you don't have to ever worry about it at all.

2.) If the cat's out of the bag, keep it short and simple. No making of plans, no engaging in full-blown conversations...basics only.

3.) Don't use it as a cop out. Don't use a text to say something you don't mean, don't use it to say nothing. Now we're all totally guilty of this, but I think my new thing is just not to respond if I don't feel like I really want to or if I'm trying to cut someone off. I feel like this particular bullet will need some amending because this is way easier said than done, but the intent to do the right thing will be there.

This is as far as we got, but I'm sure as more texting faux pas' are committed - against us and by us - there will be many more.

Kevin Federline

OMG I F***ING LOVED IT!!! (For anyone who didn't carve out the time to watch the Teen Choice Awards tonight, Kevin Federline closed the show, first introduced by Britney Spears..who looked horrible. Anyways, he performed, and by performed I mean sucked ass.) Kevin Federline is the biggest douchebag in the history of douchebags. Like the biggest. Ever. And I loved it. I can't WAIT to see what the entertainment industry has to say about it. But since I have my finger on the pulse of the entertainment industry, and because I am super knowledgeable on all things pop culture, as a matter of fact, I could probably be a very excellent reporter on E! News Tonight, I am predicting that K-Fed gets vilified and raked across the coals. You read it here first.

The Best Story Ever is Developing

The Day I Get to Go to the Colbert Report in a Bald Eagle Costume

In what might be the best developing story of my life...tomorrow I'm going to be making a visit to the Colbert Report...handing out nutritional bars...in a bald eagle costume. I'm getting paid to do this. I'm getting paid a lot. I'm not saying anymore until I have photos and a story to go with it. But obviously, this is going to be one of the best stories ever.

Old Men Wearing Suits

Is there anything cuter than a little old man wearing a three piece suit in the city? Whenever I see one, I get all happy inside and have to resist the urge to run over and give them a hug. If one day, a Model T happens to roll by as I'm watching an old man in a three-pieced suit walk past me, and then a milkman strolls by and says "good morning," I think I'll just die of happiness. Whenever I see one, I wish that NYC was still full of men wearing three-piece suits, top hats and pocket watches...until I realize that would mean women would probably be wearing corsets and pinafores. It may be worth it.

The thought of that reminds me of a situation I found myself in six weeks ago at the Painted Desert National Park. I found myself in a bathroom full of Amish woman adjusting their bonnets. I was wearing jeans, a wife beater and a zip-up hoodie that took that moment to decide and fall off my shoulder...giving me a disheveled look. All I could think to myself was, "Oh my god they must think you are such a slut in this outfit" even though:

a.) I totally was not and
b.) They were wearing bonnets for Christsakes

But of more importance to me at that moment was one thought - "how the f*&% did they get here in the first place??" I didn't recall seeing any horses and buggies in the parking lot, so I finished my business and left the bathroom to investigate. When I walked out, my three friends were staring in shock/wonder/amazement at the Amish man asking somewhat stupid questions of the nerdy Painted Desert employee. It was just so out of place. The Amish girls gave me another good looking-over when they realized a girl was traveling in a pack of three boys. At this point though I had bigger fish to fry - first of all, there was one man and like eight girls - no one looked old enough to be the wife and he didn't look old enough to be their father, which begged the question - are the Amish polygamists? No one knew. I also had to fight the strongest urge to yell out Ebenezer! Sarah! Rachel! Just to see if anyone would turn around.

My friends and I then cased the parking lot for any clue as to how the Amish may have arrived in ARIZONA and upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary, concluded that they must have rollerbladed there. From Pennsylvania.

Snakes on a Plane

Is anyone else totally pumped about seeing this? I am so there.

42 Hits

Yesterday was my biggest day ever for hits - 42 in all! Since pimping myself out in bald eagle costumes is not exactly the life work I had in mind, feel free to pass this link to anyone you see fit. Particularly friends who may work in publishing. That way I can get a book deal, or a Candace Bushnell-like column in the Post, and you can say you knew me when. :)

Bored

Not an Idiot

Not a whole lot is going on today, so this is actually kind of boring. But I think I accidently said yesterday that I wouldn't mind running into David Wright, third baseman of the Yankees. I actually realized this morning that I believe he is on the Mets. It doesn't really matter though - the point remains the same. I just didn't want everyone to think I'm an idiot.

So...I decided to take the plunge and go to my first wedding sans date. I asked three friends - one boy and two girls - all who had previous commitments. Following my three strikes and you're out rule, I will be giving it a go alone. Technically, this is nothing to worry about, I'm self-sufficient, but there is always a small part of you that wonders if you'll be the girl dressed up in her prom dress standing against the wall waiting for someone to ask her to dance. So to combat this possibility, I decided I will just get drunk and dance on my own- a plan which I've already run by the bride-to-be and gotten approved. She said she'd be doing the same. I warned her Shakira may be involved. She was okay with this. I also think some co-workers are going alone so that is good as well. However, if anyone out there is in the NY/NJ area on Saturday and has no plans, you know where to find me.

A First in Test-Taking
I took a test today to gauge my expertise in Word, Excel and Powerpoint to be able to freelance at my friends job and I was slightly disappointed to learn that I only rank in the 70th percentile of each. I found this slightly insulting, as when it comes to test-taking, I always want to be number one. I still remember the feeling of smug satisfaction when getting my standardized tests back and finding out that I technically ranked superior to 99% of my schoolmates. I even studied super hard for my driver's test when getting my permit so that would score a 100% (I missed one question.) Anyways, my weaknesses are the finer points like mail merges and charts...which made me feel a little bit better, but not really.

Morimoto

It's slightly unnatural that I'm beyond pumped for free food at Morimoto tonight. My friends and I were discussing over the weekend that its lucky we found each other because we all love food so much. Or maybe that's why we're all friends. Who knows. A. even remarked that she gets pumped to go to bed because that means breakfast is coming and I don't know anyone who gets more excited about eating dinner than I do. However, I've heard so much about the shrimp tempura at Morimoto, that I'm afraid I'm going to be disappointed unless they are dusted in gold and taste like rainbows. We'll see. I'm also super excited to debut an awesome new outfit that I have - which will hopefully make up for any disappointment the shrimp may provide. Hopefully tomorrow provides more interesting things to write about than this.

Dating in New York

Apparently dating in New York is done via text message and e-mail. I've only been in the game a few months, and so far this is my only observation - I'm sure many more are on the way. I can't decide if this is better and/or easier than traditional means of dating communications. My roommate had a two month dating experience in which her and her "friend" corresponded exclusively in these two ways, including their break up which we figured was done when one just didn't respond to the other. We agreed that this is indeed easier than a real break up, but it's also fake. A fake-up if you will...and there's nothing easy about that.

The problem in corresponding this way is that there is just too much time to think. Do I say "this" or do I say "that?" Do I send this out now or do I send it in an hour? My friend K. recently decided that since the guy she is texting with waited a day to respond to her, she would wait a day to respond back. This level of complexity is way to high for my liking.

And then the problem becomes, what if you don't hear back? Are you being cut off? Did you say something wrong? Should you indeed have said "that" when "this" would have been more clever?

And to make things even more complicated, what if you actually like the person? How do you proceed then? How do you manage not to seem too eager but maintain that you would like to stay in contact? Do you reach out or do you let him/her reach? It's all too much to bear! I always liked to joke that I'm a first date queen - that I never have had a good enough time with someone to go on a second date. But I recently went out with someone and I would totally go on a date again, but I haven't heard a word. And I know this happens all the time with my friends as well...what do you do then? I think in my case this may mean that I'm just getting a taste of my own medicine, but in an age of texting and IM how am I supposed to know for sure? You are always left to wonder if it was something you said or did, and second-guessing is maybe the worst thing human beings are capable of. Ok, maybe global terrorism or genocide is worse...but second guessing a text message is a very close second.

What is clear I guess is that there is no right or wrong answer to how to proceed. What works between one boy and girl may not work for another. I guess what is also clear is that I need to find something to do pronto, because I clearly have too much time on my hands.

I also think that the only logical answer to my personal dilemma is to perhaps just arrange to meet David Wright, third baseman for the Yankees. We're roughly the same age, he's hot, and he has to wear pinstripes to work...in my book this is check, check and check.

Brooke Hogan

I recently saw her video and only have two comments:

1.) I just want to make it abundantly clear that my dance off was NOTHING like the one she has in her video. The main difference being that hers is totally gay and mine was totally awesome.

2.) Why the F*$% is she wearing a grill and why does she continue to wear one? Ummm, we all watched Hogan Knows Best (and don't lie you know you totally caught at least one episode) and she hardly grew up in grill country, she grew up in like Malibu or something. She should try to wear that in the real 'hood...like where I'm from - running the streetz in the Boogie Down Boca, as we like to call it. Okay, as I like to call it. Ok I never called it that, but I digress. No matter where you're from, I think the general rule of thumb is White Kids + Grills = Grounds for an Ass Beating. White people are genetically predisposed to looking like a-holes in grills, cornrows and FuBu clothing. I don't understand why my people continue to make these very basic mistakes.

Driving in Manhattan

I have recently added "New York traffic dominator" to my bag of tricks. Last Thursday during a brief monsoon, I happened to be in control of a Toyota Corolla that was picking up people around Manhattan and navigating a flooded FDR. I was cutting off buses and cabdrivers, maneuvering around stopped and moving vehicles and just all out kicking ass. I was extremely pleased to learn that I posessed this skill...it means that if all else goes wrong, I can always be a sweet ass cab driver.

People Tell Me Inappropriate Things

I have one of those faces that says "trust me." When I began driving and I needed to pick my friends up in their gated communities, the security guards hardly ever checked my name and the house I was going to. No sooner had I rolled the window a quarter of the way down, they were waving me through with hardly a second glance. I'm convinced I could have an extremely successful career in breaking and entering if I was so inclined.

I also seem to send out a vibe that says "tell me your life story, I really want to hear it." People will tell me their horrible tales of sadness or joy, ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends if I even so much as smile at them.

Yesterday, I was sitting at the coffee shop writing my marathon post from yesterday, when the owner of the coffee shop asked me what I was doing. We've become friendly over the course of the last few weeks, since I've spent an inordinate amount of time there reading the newspaper, magazines and books because I've have no job at the moment (which believe it or not, is starting to get boring, but more on that later.) Anyways, so I say "oh, nothing. just writing" and he says, "Oh, well I was hoping you'd be looking at porn."

I was kind of taken back because my first thought was, if I was looking at porn, I probably wouldn't be doing it here. But my second thought was, why would you say that to me? Out of all responses, that's what you tell me? I think a more appropriate response would have been "Writing what?" But hey, that's just me.

Thankfully I recovered quickly and said, "Well, when I'm looking at porn I'll give you the signal to come over" and then I gave him what the signal would be. He then requested a different signal and we agreed upon it. Then he left for the day, because this exchange occurred as he was leaving for the day. The whole situation was very bizarre and it got me thinking about some of the other wierd things people have said to me lately such as:

- "Great, just what I need, another woman to lie to me."

- "Yeah she is cute...too bad I don't know who her father is."

- "Your friend is a bitch."

- "Would you like me to sing you an Irish song I learned?" (To this, I actually said yes and then joined in. This took place in a cab. But that's wierd anywhere else in the world.)

- "Yes, they used to tell me, shut up you Haitian bastard! I'm not even Haitian!"

- "Hi, yes I'm a psychotherapist and I meet all my clients at coffee shops. It's hard to sit next to people who won't listen into our conversations, you wouldn't mind terribly moving over one spot?" (In truth, I didn't mind at all and offered to do it, but why would she put the thought in my head to listen in? I totally did, of course, and it was awesome.)

Yankees Hat

I can't reiterate enough that we are so over, but my Gym Boyfriend was wearing a Yankees hat today and it looked really cute. Coincidentally, I lost my Yankees hat in my room somewhere and can't find it. But then on the treadmill, I began to wonder if my Gym Boyfriend actually stole it and now wears it so that we can be closer together. I think it's totally possible. Tricky tricky, Gym Boyfriend, tricky tricky...but I'm onto you.

Coincidences, Jessica Simpson, Shaki...and the Infamous Dance Off

Coincidence? I Think Not

I’ve written about it before, but it will never cease to amaze me that life’s biggest decisions are sometimes made in a matter of hours, minutes…even seconds. In my most recent case, it was made over a weekend.

As many of you know, I have long struggled with the idea of leaving New York, as I think all transplants always do. It’s hard to contemplate moving back to the suburbs when you know everything you are leaving behind to do so. As I do when I have big decisions to make, I look to the universe to give me signs if things are right or wrong…but in this case, every sign pointed in every direction and I just couldn’t tell.

However, when both the people who were going to take my room fell through (or as we were calling them “The New Lia”) and certain other things I thought would work out in Florida turned out not to be as picture-perfect as I was imagining...I knew I had my answer.

But as I alluded to before, this decision was not made without the patience, support and love of my friends and my family. Thank you to M and A who stayed up with me until the sun came up on Saturday morning (meaning all night Friday was spent in deep debate) to help me analyze EVERY AGONIZING point and counterpoint of staying, to P who refused to ever believe I was leaving in the first place and took every opportunity to remark how sad she was to see me go and just generally lay on the guilt, and of course to my mom and sister, who told me my decision was right, knowing that I always need them to confirm these things for me.

So…the good news is, I get to keep my kick ass apartment, I get to hang out with the influx of new friends I know are moving into the city, I may still get the chance to go to Newport, Rhode Island and Philadelphia, can continue eating my way across the city, add to my karaoke repertoire, and find Laura from Cellar Bar and go round two in the dance off when she doesn’t have the judge and jury in her pocket (see below for the dance off specifics)….and last but not least, I don’t have to change the point of this blog and can keep documenting the fantastic random shit I see in New York City. Cause somehow, I don’t think the crazy streets of Boca Raton and Ft. Lauderdale can really compare right now.

A Public Affair

Try as I might, even though she gets on my nerves, I still like Jessica Simpson. I admit, I was on Team Lachey for like two minutes, until I realized that I too would probably hook up with Johnny Knoxville and Adam Levine were they to hit on me. Ok…no I totally wouldn’t if I was married….Ok, ok I would totally consider it.

Anyways, today I got sucked into the Top 20 countdown on VH1 and finally caught the video for A Public Affair. I found myself wishing that I lived in Hollywood and could go rollerskating with my BFFs Eva Longoria, Christina Applegate and Christina Milian. The video is totally cheeste-tastic and gay, but I loved it enough to wish I was in it..so I guess that counts for something.

However, I still hope Joe Simpson dies in a fiery car crash.


Shakira

I also just have to point out that the countdown is officially on for me to see Shakira in Miami on September 15. Today, also during the VH1 countdown, the video for Hips Don't Lie came on, and I’m sad to say that this story is totally true, I got so excited I actually began to cry from sheer joy. Now I just need to find someone to go with me – so all interested applicants, feel free to contact me directly. Your ticket will be free!

My First, and Very Possibly Only, Dance Off

There has always been a small part of me that wanted to get in a fight. Like a real fight where I get punched in the face and I punch someone else in the face, and the end result is that I kick this person’s ass and stand over their body and yell “Take That Bitch!!!!”

The only problem is, I’m not a violent person. And chances are, the scenario above will never, ever happen. I hold out a small ray of hope, but as I get older, I realize the likelihood of this coming to fruition decreases every day. So I figure that the only way I can ever come close to being victorious over someone in a physical way is what may be my best hidden talent – no, not my cover of Bobby Brown’s “My Prerogative” (and note that I know how to spell it correctly) – but dance.

Thanks to my dad, Best Dancer of the Class of 1970, and my mom, who perfected the Hustle and the Bump at Studio 54 in the 70s…I just happen to be, through genetics, a phenomenal dancer. I think my friends would tend to agree.

And for someone of my dancing pedigree, I’ve secretly longed to be in a dance off. I can pinpoint this desire to a tabloid report circa 1999 or 2000 when it was reported Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake engaged in a dance off in a Hollywood club post break-up and pre-Kevin Federline. The desire was further fueled about two years ago when the show “So You Think You Can Dance?” began airing on TV. My answer? An enthusiastic yes, but because I never tried out for the show, I don’t watch it, because I can’t control the desire to dance around my room after it goes off, which is unbecoming of a 25-year old professional with roommates who would make fun of her if they ever caught her doing it. Nevermind a brother and sister who once found me out in 7th grade dancing full throttle in my room and made fun of me for oh, about 10 years after that.

Two Thursdays ago, I went out with three friends for dinner and after dinner, one decided it would be a good idea to go dancing. They suggested Cellar Bar, which I had never been to, so I said okay let’s do it. As with all nights that quickly spiral out of control, it started innocently enough, someone offered to order the first round. (It is helpful to note at this point that I also drank two beers with dinner, so this was my third drink of the evening and I usually have to tap out around four anyways). I love this move, because it forces the other people in the party to also order a round, meaning that you know your going to consume multiple drinks. Because I had cleared my plate at dinner, as usual, I was feeling a little sluggish so I got a Vodka and Red Bull, my drink of choice when I need to step up the energy level with the quickness. For the second round, which came around only 8 minutes later, I also ordered a Vodka Red Bull which means that upon the drink’s completion, my energy level was now roughly equivalent to the energy released when an A-Bomb explodes. The DJ was playing really fun songs and then he went for broke – he offered free bottles to the two best female dancers in the club. I was feeling lucky, but when I noticed that the first bottle went to the two girls who were making out, my friends and I decided that we weren’t going to go that far for victory. But the possibility still existed that we would win on the merits of our phenomenal dance moves so we continued dancing.

The third round came around, and I decided to switch my drink of choice to my new favorite – Stoli Raspberi and Sprite with a splash of cranberry and a lime. And this is where things started to turn around….the music was so loud that the drink came back a little wrong….I got a glass of Stoli with a splash of cranberry. The first sip was like getting punched in the stomach, I was, afterall, drinking vodka straight up. But anyone who drinks Red Bull knows what can happen when it’s coursing through your bloodstream – you are invincible. You can do anything. And so, I didn’t send the drink back…I drank it. Quickly. And I was basically having the best time ever.

So, N. and I are dancing near the front of the dance floor, hoping the DJ notices how great we are, but not hoping for much, when The Song comes on. Hips Don’t Lie. Shakira. We look at each other. We Smile. We begin to go crazy…when N. does the thing I’ve always needed someone to do – push me toward my destiny. She pushes me toward the “stage,” which is basically, the small platform in front of the DJ booth. She pushed me toward it, and I take the fateful step up…onto the platform. And I begin to shake.

At this point, I have to explain that I debuted the shake in Boston back in March, when N. and I went dancing after the taping of Dane Cook’s HBO special. I have the self-confidence to admit that I had been practicing. After watching the debut of Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie video, I decided I needed to learn how to dance as similar as possible. And so I began to practice…and because of genetics, as previously mentioned, I quickly got it down. I’m not nearly as good…but I’m good enough, and was very happy to learn that I can actually shake my hips extremely fast. And then I started to learn how to bellydance slightly, and then I learned how to combine the two. The result may be no more than an awesome party trick, but it’s awesome nonetheless.

So, now I’m up on stage in front of a packed dance floor doing the shake. And then people start watching. And they start cheering. And all I’m looking at is N. and our other two friends when I snap out of it and realize that I have an audience. And since the Red Bull and the straight vodka are in full control of me at this point, I decide I’m going to give everyone a show.

I’ve never danced so well. It was like I was Gumby. I could will my body to do whatever I thought. And when the song was done, and I swear to God that you can’t make this shit up, the audience cheered. And when I got down, people actually gave me five.

And that’s when the DJ threw it down. He said anyone who can shake faster than that wins the second bottle. I looked at N. – and very matter-of-factly stated, “No one can shake faster than that” and her very matter-of-fact reply was “No fucking way, this is OURS.”

And so a parade of wannabes went up there and tried as hard as they could, but it was very obvious, and not only by the audience boos, that there just was no chance. And then one DECENT AT BEST girl got up there and received half-hearted applause to make it a contest.

So the DJ said, let’s get the first girl back up there, and since I had regained my strength and breath at this point, I took the stage for Round Two. The audience cheered and I went for broke again, shaking and twisting. My thighs started to burn, my breath started to go, but I held it together until he called for the second girl to try again.

At this point, I have to give the girl credit. Many dance contests among girls turn into strip-offs. Someone lifts their skirt just enough, or whips their shirt off, she didn’t do that. She tried. She danced. So I appreciated that much, until the DJ called for both of us to get up on stage together and that bitch tried to booty bounce me off the stage. It’s also worth nothing at this point that I was wearing four-inch heels, in which I can barely walk normally, forget trying to hold my balance while someone tries to hip check me off the stage.

So I did the only thing I could do. I spun that bitch around, put my hand on her head and bent her over and tried to make her lose HER balance. She didn’t go, but I was able to make my point successfully.

The time period ended and now it was time for the audience vote. I was dead. My legs felt like someone had beat them with a rock, I was totally winded and worst of all, my stomach was beginning to hurt. But I was sure victory was mine. There was NO WAY she could have won. Only Shakira herself could have done better. So the DJ called for audience applause and Laura’s (we had to give our names after the music turned off) table of about 25 people turned up the volume, making it even. We went two rounds of applause, where my fans in the audience did the best they could, but Laura’s table made it impossible to gain an edge. And because they were ordering bottles left and right – the DJ called it in her favor. That asshole!

However, at that moment I had a bigger problem - I needed to use the bathroom. I had actually shaken so hard and so fast, that the pure vodka effectively milkshaked with my stomach contents, so I ran to the restroom and I had the best throw up of my life. I felt 1000 times better immediately but still exhausted, and came out of the stall to find N. waiting. Apparently she had gone over to the DJ, cursed him out and told him he sucked ass and threw the contest. I’m sure he had no idea what she was talking about, he obviously had no idea that sheer amount of lifelong dreams I had up on the stage, but N. did and it’s good to know that your friends are in your corner. While we washed our hands, I kid you not, four girls came up to me and told me they were cheering for me and asked did I give lessons?

I told them thanks, laughed out of disbelief and came out of the bathroom. Immediately, a very large black man came over and said, I just wanted to tell you that you can move. I laughed and said thanks. And he said, no seriously, you can dance, and if a black guy is telling a while girl she can dance, she can dance! And then he shook my hand and told me he was sorry the DJ cheated.

I looked at N. and we both decided that our jobs at Cellar Bar were effectively finished. And I went home, glad that I can check a dance off, even if I lost, off of my life’s to-do list.

What A Difference A Day Makes

So...suffice to say that the last 24-36 hours have been crazy. Thank you, in no particular order to my mom, my sister, A, P and M to being the most important and smart women in my life. I don't know what I would do without you and I love you!
Stay tuned for news....

love,

lia

I'm Sorry Peeps

So...I've been off the blogging kick for like a month, back in New York for three weeks and with a computer for two...and I've not found time to update my blog. Which is a shame really, because in the last month or so, I've had LOTS going on...and by LOTS I mean a two week vacation, starting off with what was probably the most fun weekend of my life in Las Vegas, lots of time at the coffee shop, a few celebrity spottings (of course), oh...and a real life DANCE OFF IN A CLUB. Yeah, no big deal really. Just the greatest 20 minutes of my life pretty much. You know, the usual.

Anyways, to do justice to the dance off, I can't really just slap anything down and call it a day. No this requires time and effort, editing and second drafts. Its as if I'm submitting to the New Yorker...where the New Yorker means all 50 of you or so who actually take the time to check this. Which is just as good to me.

So...I'm sorry that I haven't gotten around to updating this, I won't lie, I've been quite lazy. But trust that I'm working on it behind the scenes. And your patience will be rewarded soon enough.

Why I Hate Britney Spears

While watching the train wreck that was Britney Spears a few weeks ago, one thought kept recurring in my mind. That is- when I could actually unfocus from the obvious – the cleavage, the eyelash coming detached, the rat’s nest hair, the see through shirt and the mini skirt I thought for sure was going to go above her head. Obviously, as a public relations executive, I was horrified on many levels.

More on my recurring thought in a second. Britney and I are roughly the same age – she’s 23 and I’m 25 – so unlike some pop stars like Madonna, I can actually remember the things she was doing right around the time she was doing them and think things to myself like wow, when I was 18 I hadn’t done this or that or whatever. But I was never a fan of Britney Spears. Sure I know her songs, they play them so damn much you can’t help it and I like them just fine, but I was never one of those Britney-obsessed girls. I didn’t like her. So anyways, while I’m watching the Dateline interview, all I kept thinking was – does she really not get it? Is she really that thick? She spent her entire career courting the media, teasing them with provocative photos, doing sexy performances, skin baring outfits, barely there videos and so on and so forth. And I admit, she had a slamming body and was cute as a button. But then you look at her now – hair a mess, walking barefoot into bathrooms, husband who looks like any white rapper wanna be in America, and I think to myself…you seriously don’t understand why people would be fascinated on how someone go from that to this in just a matter of two years or so? I’d be fascinated if it was someone I actually knew, nevermind a girl who spent her whole life perfecting the image of the prom queen tease and now looks like crap- all in the media spotlight? I mean come on! You can’t spend your whole life trying to be the number one pop culture discussion item (um and please don’t forget Britney and Kevin’s Chaotic, which was desgined to provoke) and then have the balls to complain when the media takes it too far!

Then…what really gets me going is that in the two weeks following, following the TV segment where she begs and cries to be left alone, she has not ONE but TWO magazine spreads about herself and her pregnancy! Does that sound like someone who doesn’t want to be in the spotlight? Even worse, in the new Harper’s Bazaar, she’s naked and topless in the photos! Does THAT sound like someone who doesn’t want people talking? Come on! Get off your high horse you stupid ‘ho! (yes I said ‘ho- she’s trashtastic!) You’re an attention whore! So get over it and start dealing with the attention you obviously crave! Because if you didn’t crave it…you’d just disappear like every other star in Hollywood who doesnt' want to be in the tabloids.

Ugh!

The We-Bomb and Need Your Help

The We-Bomb

I would define my current state as single and semi-looking. Therefore, when I meet someone new, I can always jump ahead and begin imagining our future together. I know, I know…crayyyyyzeeeee. However, anyways, today I met a Mark Ruffalo lookalike who I thought was cute until he started using what I like to call the we-bomb.

Boys and girls use the we-bomb differently. When a girl uses the we-bomb she could be referring to anyone – her boyfriend, her roommate, her co-worker, her girlfriend. Girls require no pretext when using the we-bomb. In any story, she’ll drop in a we-bomb and no one thinks twice.

When a boy uses the we-bomb he is only referring to his significant other. Otherwise, he will say my roommate and I, my boy and I, or what have you. I believe this stems from the subconscious desire to let the opposite party know that he is indeed single…and ready to mingle if you will.

Would you Read This Book?

Among the following two opening paragraphs, I need genuine feedback on which one piques your interest more. Thanks in advance – I’ll thank you in my Pulitzer Prize Speech. And if Pulitzer Prize winners don’t give speeches – f* that, I’ll start the trend.

1. ) I sat in my car, in the grocery store parking lot across the street from my office building, listening to the 80s lunch hour with DJ Donny B on the radio. With the air conditioner blasting away to keep the South Florida heat at bay, I ate my sandwich and sang silently to “I Think We’re Alone Now.”

I sat contemplating the building just across the way, an inconspicuous bank building that unbeknownst to all passers-by, housed what I had nicknamed “Hell on Earth,” the public relations firm of O’Shanahan and Goldsmith.

O’Shanahan and Goldsmith had been my professional home for just about seven months. My first job out of college and where I did public relations for hospitals and lawyers. It was a far cry from the glamorous job I pictured when I was in school. I had imagined velvet ropes, parties, lunches with reporters and general fabulousness. Instead, I toiled away in a 8 X 10 office with some of worst human beings ever placed on planet Earth.

2.) The alarm rang with its brain-splitting shriek directly into my left ear at approximately 6:47 a.m. on Monday, May 3, 2003. I bolted upright out of my semi-asleep state and hit the off button. Today was my first day of work. The beginning of my Career. The day that all my schooling, professional development, after-school and intramural activities, careful grooming and endless studying, culminated into my becoming a Successful Person, one on the very short path to millionairehood.

I was incredibly scared and wished I was back in college. I’m sorry to admit it, but that indeed was my first thought on the first day of my Career.

I would have given my left arm for just one more day of weekend. I say left and not right because I don’t rely on my left arm nearly as much as I rely on my right arm. I wasn’t so desperate that I would have given my right arm. Anyways, I would have given my left arm for one more day to postpone the inevitable, the day I officially became an adult. The day where I could literally watch my responsibility-free life disappear before my very eyes. If the Devil had appeared with a hacksaw for my arm and the offer to turn back time I most definitely would have accepted his offer. I waited for a few moments to see if Lucifer felt like making an appearance, and when he did not, I got out of bed to brush my teeth.

Conversations and Ruminations

I had a very nice conversation today with someone, somewhat out of nowhere. It’s funny to me how this happens sometimes. You start talking to someone about one thing, but then wind up on a completely different topic, and you wind up thinking on that all day.

What started as a joke, turned into a conversation about life and how to enjoy it. How to make sure that you get out what you put in. How to make sure that you aren’t ruminating too much on things that bring you down, or make you feel bad and keeping negativity out of your life. And I realized, that the last few years, I’ve been allowing too much of this to creep into my daily existence.

One of the things I liked most about my younger self is that I never let anything get to me. Most things rolled off my back and I can’t remember ever staying up at night or worrying about anything.

Somewhere during college that started to shift. I started worrying about money when I saw my student loan debt growing, started worrying about finding a job, worrying about tests, etc. Then I graduated and that got worse. I wasn’t living where I wanted or doing what I wanted. I found myself getting obsessed by people I didn’t like and what’s worse, I didn’t balance that with people I did like or the things I liked doing.

Then I moved to NYC and I’ve found myself once again not as involved in my own life as I’d like to be. When I moved, I promised myself I’d take dance classes, that I’d go to the park every weekend, go to Broadway shows, that I’d learn Italian, that I’d read more. Instead, each night I come home too exhausted to do much but watch TV and talk to my roommates for a little while. I've done pretty good on weekends, but not as good as I could have and I'm not sure why. Each day is just like the next, even in the biggest and most dynamic city in the world.

So…now that I’ve got the chance to start over yet again, and believe me I am very happy for yet another chance to do so, I am going to do it better. I’d like to start participating in my life a bit more. I don’t want to work to death, as a matter of fact, work, while important, is no longer my life’s goal. I now see work as a means to end, the end being the things I want to do. Which include learning new things and doing the things I enjoy. At 25, I’d like to start being 25…not 55, like I sometimes feel.

So thank you to my friend who confirmed that I’m not crazy, that this is something everyone realizes (or chooses to realize) and validated to me that what I’m doing, what I’m embarking on, is right. The journey starts next Friday, when I leave for my two week vacation and return with nothing before me but time to get back to center. I have bought a ton of books and I have zero plans. And I can’t…freaking…wait.

The Best Celebrity Spotting...EVER

About six months ago, my roommate invited me to go see a play with her and her friend visiting from out of town. I was busy, and a little strapped for cash, so I declined.

That night she had the greatest celebrity spotting ever….the Hoff. As in David Hasselhoff. Needless to say, I was furious. I hardly ever beg out of anything for monetary reasons, I’m a firm believer in being entertained at all times, no matter what the cost. So the fact that I had done this was infuriating enough. To be slapped with the double whammy of a Hoff sighting, the only one I’ve ever heard of, was akin to torture. I had a feeling I could never top it.

Fast forward to yesterday. Columbus Circle at 57th St. I was heading back to my apartment from visiting a friend, and I decided that despite the sweltering humidity (and if a Floridian is saying this, you know it’s bad) that I would walk home.

I was rewarded for my valiant effort with the only celebrity spotting that I knew could top my roommate’s Hoff sighting….I saw Vinny Chase. Adrian Grenier.

My roommate is in LOVE with Adrian Grenier, as I suspect, are many women in America. I’m sorry to report that Vinny Chase does not look any better in person, he looks the exact same. His eyes are very blue and he is currently sporting a very large fro. He was with one of those girls, who upon first glance is pretty…think Ukranian Super Model type. But then you look again and she’s a butter face (everything looks good, butter face – just say it out loud).

Anyways, I tried to catch his eye to see if he would dash over and leave U.S.M. behind, ask me out and then whisk me off to the upcoming The Devil Wears Prada premiere, but I couldn’t. And so I continued walking and it was just as well. I had won a battle I didn’t think I had any chance of winning. And victory was sweet indeed.

Rascal Flatts

So, I know I’m a little late in the game in discovering these guys, but a couple of months ago someone mentioned they were going to a concert and it sparked me to download their music. Which I did, but I didn’t transfer onto my iPod for a couple of months. About a week ago, I finally moved it over and now I’m totally obsessed. I have about 11 songs that I’ve listened on constant repeat and now I have them memorized and I need more. Anyways, if you’ve never checked them out, I highly recommend them.

More Cowbell

In preparation for my upcoming vacation, I’ve been doing some strategic shopping. I went online to my favorite T-Shirt site and bought two shirts. One with the outline of Kenya, and inside the outline it says – “Kenya Dig It?” So awesome.

But not as awesome as the second shirt, which I bought for the select few, that as I’m walking down the street, will “get.” Its says “More Cowbell” and has a photo of a cowbell.

If you have any idea what this means, chances are we are friends and I love you dearly. If you do not have any idea what this means, allow me to learn ya’:

If you do not think this is one of the funniest things you have ever seen – don’t bother ever reading this blog again.

Hello Abyss? What's up...It's Lia

Is my blog boring now that my gym boyfriend is out of the picture? I realized I struggle for daily thoughts to write about…although I start a million entries I post only a few. Sometimes, I like writing just to write, not to share. However, it dawned on me that I usually wound up sharing my gym boyfriend entries because I could actually finish them and post them without anyone thinking I had too much time on my hands. I started a whole rant the other day about the Dixie Chicks and how it’s totally unfair that they get black listed and death threats while men who make music bashing the President don’t get one millionth of the backlash. But I never finished it and didn’t post it…and then looking back on the last few months the only consistent thing I ever write about is Gym Boyfriend.

The funny thing is, even though we broke up, Gym Boyfriend lives on. I see him all of the time, and even my friends have taken to calling him Gym Boyfriend. He’s at the coffee shop and at the bank, and always, obviously, in the gym. I see him staring, though now I’m totally convinced he is not staring at me nor is he interested in any way. One year is MORE than enough time to work up the courage to talk to someone, if you were interested in doing so.

The reason for my rant today? I have finally taken the plunge. I gave notice at my job, setting the wheels in motion for my move back to Florida. My last official day is June 29. It feels very good to have finally ended the double life I’ve been leading the last few months as I contemplated my decision. It also means, that sadly, my New York life will come to an end in August. This is obviously very bittersweet for me. Coming here was a huge dream of mine, one that I filled all on my own. I carved out a pretty great life and in the thick of it, I’ve decided to leave. I miss my family and I have to know once and for all if my current quasi-boyfriend should/can be together. The only way to know this is to move home and see what happens. And if it doesn’t work out, I do have my family close by which is something I missed more than I ever though I would.

I think that my Gym Boyfriend stands for so much more than just a crush I had on someone I saw every day. It was a way to escape and pretend that maybe there was an iota of a chance that maybe I was meant to stay here forever. I don’t think I was meant to, but it represented the possibility. If for some reason, Gym Boyfriend, or any other Boyfriend had materialized, it would have added a layer to my existence here that could have persuaded me to reevaluate things. I’m not saying it would have made me stay – I don’t think any decision should be made over a man or a relationship – but it would have played a role.

On the other hand, maybe the fact that no such person materialized, though I’m sure it could have if I was really interested, is a sign that quasi-boyfriend IS going to work out. I’ve met a lot of people in my time here and I think that had I met someone interesting enough or someone who held my attention for more than 0.5 seconds, I would have done something about it. But I didn’t. And I have to believe that counts for something as well.

I think the toughest part about this decision is that you’ll never know, either way, what would have been best. It’s one of those decisions where you just have to accept that your brain and your heart may be sending you mixed messages, and you just have to toss logic and reason out the window for once. I feel a bit like I just parachuted into a black hole – with no bottom, with no sense of speed, just kind of floating in the abyss. And even though I have never done this before in my life, not have a plan, not have a clear-cut sense on if what I’m doing is right or smart or totally in my hands…it does feel okay. And in a way, very liberating.

Living in La-La Land...Literally

Just saw…

Molly Shannon walking her babies (twins?) up 8th Avenue. Of course, I was staring try to figure out if it was her…of course she was staring back like What the hell are you looking at. In any case, once I recognized, I looked away…and began writing this post in my head. The corner of 14th and 8th is starting to be my “spot!” So far Gwen Stefani, cross-dressing tranny, and Molly Shannon all spotted there! I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I camp out all together.

CSI: Love Interest

So… in the absence of a gym boyfriend, my subconscious could not leave well enough alone and went looking elsewhere for someone to fawn over. It found him, on CSI, the Las Vegas edition. George Eads, who plays CSI Nick Stokes is PERFECT. He is hot (see picture below), obviously works out and is into forensics, JUST LIKE ME. Not in real life (that I know of) but he is on TV, which is good enough.

If it wasn’t bad enough that I’ve watched every CSI saved on the TV (and let me tell you, there were a lot), he was actually in my dream last night!! Somehow, we were in a house and he was ironing his shirt and I was trying to determine if he liked me. The answer was yes, which I unfortunately found out exactly as my alarm rang, but even Snooze couldn’t bring me back into the dream. This is no way to start your day.



But the best thing about this CSI Boyfriend? He can be saved, to be watched over and over again. God help TiVo if he ever does a shirtless scene!

My love life = Pathetic.

Things That Make Me Nervous/Horrified

Spending Time Alone

I had a very odd thing happen to me this holiday weekend. I had time. Lots of it. Alone.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m always on the go. I like to take advantage of my weekends to travel – in the last 9 months alone I’ve visited four countries, four major cities and had several weekend trips. I have another two week and five state adventure on the horizon in July. I don’t like to sit around and twiddle my thumbs (though I do like to sit around and watch TiVo). Anyways, this weekend, although I had made tentative plans with many people, they all fell through and by Friday at 4 p.m. I was alone in my apartment with not a friend to call. The whole weekend stretched before me endlessly. Nothing to do. Nowhere to be.

I promptly got depressed and kicked myself for not buying a ticket to Florida or somewhere else to spend the weekend. My sister was in Key West. My family was chilling at home. I could have done either but it was too late. Then I got sad when I realized that four people went out of town and my whole social life crumbled to pieces. Was I only down to four friends to provide my entertainment? Did I have no one else? How sad was that? There wasn’t even anyone on Instant Messenger to talk to! Well Jason and I chatted for a few hours but we do that everyday. I relayed to him my frustration that I had nothing to do and he was like well enjoy it then. And I was like, hmm, what a concept.

So, I turned to the TV and caught up on all my shows. I was done by midnight or so, so I packed it in for the evening. I woke up on Saturday morning by the sweet sound of nothing. No one doing the dishes waking me up or turning on the TV. No one stirring in their room to make me wonder what time it was. I woke up because my body had done so. I cleaned up my room a bit, ate some breakfast and got a call from an out-of-town friend who was in-town that they had tickets to the Yankee game, did I want to go? So I did that and later on the night got severely beat by the drunk stick, but all in the name of a good time.

I woke up on Sunday, called my co-worker and we headed up to Central Park to lay out. It was a gorgeous day and I’m pretty sure that every sport – from kite flying, to softball, to soccer – was being played out on the Great Lawn. I thumbed through Newsweek and got a tan. I went home and didn’t feel like going out again. I cooked an entire chicken just for me. I caught up on some more TV and fell asleep.

Then on Monday, I had the Sunday Times. I brought it to the coffee shop and read everything but the Job Market and Business sections (cause I just can’t care no matter how much I want to). It took me three hours. I came home and cleaned some more…got the AC unit up and running again ate some olives and cheese and called it a night.

It was by far the least I had done in a long time. And although it looks like a fairly busy weekend as I’m writing it down, I literally only left my apartment four times. I spent a lot of time in bed. I spent a lot of time cat-napping and thinking about things that I don’t normally have time to think about. Although I don’t think I’d like to do it again soon, I have to admit that I did enjoy being (mostly) by myself for a long stretch of time.

Couples on the Subway

To me, there is nothing worse that a couple “in love” on the subway together. This is not because I am bitter or jealous or anything like that. I’m all for people being in love, but I am very anti-PDA. Not PDA as in holding hands or a quick peck or a hand on the back, that is fine. I’m talking about the over-the-top-I-just-love-you-so-much-I-can’t-even-not-touch-you-for-one-freaking-second kind of PDA. You’ve seen these douchebags. It’s the couple who actually hug around the subway pole as they ride. They get thrown off balance together because they are not actually holding the pole, they’re holding onto each other. It’s the couple who sit and stare into each other’s eyes while they hold hands and their feet play with each other. They make me sick. It looks ridiculous when you are out in public. Save it for your living room.

Anyways, lately I have seen two of the worst subway PDAs ever and it’s been all I can not to scream and break it up. Or punch all parties involved in the face.

The first happened during rush hour. If you really want to piss me off, conduct some PDA during rush hour. When everyone else is busy trying to get to work and start their day, you have some a-holes who decide they need to squeeze out every ounce of togetherness before they reunite THE SAME DAY. My f-ing quasi-boyfriend lives 1,500 miles from me and we don’t feel the need for so much affection when we see each other. No one is in love that early in the morning, I’ll never believe it.

Anyways, I saw this couple, unfortunately they were not attractive (and I have noticed it’s always the more unattractive couples who are over-the-top in their affections, and yes I mean this and no, I’m not ashamed to say it) all over each other. They came on the subway holding hands, which and of itself, is difficult as everyone pushes to get on. It also makes it hard for others to get on because you’ve formed a Red Rover-like barrier to moving around you in any way. So I was instantly pissed off to begin with. Then they pole-hugged, during which time, he actually stood there sniffing her bangs. Assumingly, to smell her shampoo. Unknowingly, turning Small Lia into something akin to the Incredible Hulk in terms of my disgust. Then there was a stop, and someone got off, allowing her to sit down. He stood in front of her, stroking her face, while she closed her eyes and sat there with a soft smile. I could barely contain my rage. Don’t ask my why this fires me up so much, I think just because it’s so incredibly gay. What are you sitting there thinking, “Wow, this person is just sooo amazing. Am I the luckiest girl/guy in the world or what? Just when I thought that I’d be spending the rest of my life alone, God came along and gave me someone to love.” MAKE ME SICK. YOU ARE PATHETIC, DEPENDANT PEOPLE AND YOU SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO PROCREATE LEST YOU CREATE SIMILAR SMALLER PEOPLE IN YOUR LIKENESS.

The second couple I saw recently also made me equally angry. It was a Saturday. The subway was packed. I was on my way to NJ for my cousin’s first holy Communion party. A couple gets on. Think Staten Island. Both were wearing tight jeans and black T-shirts that they probably borrow from each other. They have the paper in hand. He’s got huge muscles. She’s got big hair.

She sits on the seat. He sits on her lap. Yes, that’s right. He sat on her lap. They thought this was so cute and hysterical, you could tell. I watched on, horrified, angry and confused.

She put her portion of the paper out to the right to read around him. He just perched like an asshole. I was flabbergasted. You know whenever I need to decide if I'm seeing a man do something not manly, I ask myself, "Would Dad ever do that?" And if the answer is "Never in a million goddamn years" then I know it's not manly.

Continuing on, at one point, the train bucked and he put his hand on the railing to steady himself, being perched and all, and he grabbed the portion of the handle that my hand was on, and he clamped down. He didn’t even realize he was pinning my hand to the railing. I managed to pull it out from his vice-like grip without him noticing. I’m telling you, this guy was HUGE, and he sat there, on his girlfriend’s lap like there was nothing to it. It was so weird and you know what it was, it was corny. I’ve had my guy friends sit on my lap before, but this wasn't like that. He thought this looked great. He thought they were the coolest couple on the train. You know when someone is doing it to try and be cute? Because that's what he though this was. Little did he know, it made him look like the ultimate douchebag. I hated them both. And when the subway doors opened, I ran out as fast as I could, bruised hand and all.

Saw My First...

...cross-dressing tranny doing the walk of shame at 8:30 a.m. I can now cross this dream off of my life's to-do list.

Other dreams still to be realized:

1.) Get tackled at full force by an NFL lineman.

2.) Get punched in the face.

3.) Slam dunk a basketball with no assistance.

Hooray for Taylor

Hooray for Taylor winning American Idol. I just have to say that for the whole season I thought he was shouting "Snow Patrol" b/c of the gray hair - I totally didn't realize it was Soul Patrol! I think mine is better though haha.

It's too bad Katherine didn't sing last night like she did tonight or she would have won.

The bad news is the Idols were totally outshined by the guest stars...HELLO PRINCE! YOU SEXY THANG! Jk. Prince is so not sexy...but he is ridiculously cool...did you see how he just turned and walked off stage with not a backwards glance! Ha! He just sold out HIMSELF by appearing on American Idol and then fronted like he was too good for it. You are a walking conundrum and I love you.

(However, could they have spared Kevin Covais by giving him a song other than What's New Pussycat with the bobblehead girls in the background? That's just mean.)

Chris Daughtry you are still a sexy bitch and I will have your babies.

Clay Aiken - love the hair! I noticed how you kept your distance from the gay kid on stage....(all you PerezHilton.com readers will have picked up on that as well). I wasn't fooled. I'm onto you. You shouldn't care, you are still fantastic. However, the producers are trying to set you up apparently. Sneaky English bastards!

Blah

Brandon Davis and Paris Hilton Make Me Nauseous

So disgusting and vile. If you haven't seen the video go to TMZ.com and then make sure you never forget it. Paris Hilton needs to be stopped. So does Brandon Davis.

Laziness Rocks

I came home after work today, totally exhausted. So I flipped through my TiVo and saw today's Oprah was "The World's Youngest Queen." I thought she would be like 4 or something...she's not. She's Queen Rania of Jordan, mid-30s or so...she's beautiful and smart. And I layed in bed with my pajama pants on that say 'you rock' with frogs inexplicably dancing on them...and I said to myself, you could be doing so much more. But then I realized I was tired and didn't want to. So I poured a glass of wine and went back to Oprah.

Elliot Yamin

Totally knew it. It's okay. I look forweard to his album. I'll totally buy it.


Memorial Day Weekend

Will be spent in NYC with BMoney and Jo-Lis, before Jo-Lis heads off to Italy for three years. I guess it's okay. He's learning how to fly F-15E fighter jets..might as well do it over the plains of Italy right?

Back!

We Broke Up

My “relationship” with my gym boyfriend is officially Over…and that’s over with a capital “o.” Nothing happened per se, it’s not like I saw him making out with SI Barbie or Short “Don’t Say Anything Girl,” and it killed whatever crush-like dreams I have. Suffice to say the relationship “ended” one night last week in an incident that involved a doppelganger of the screen name varietal, a photo, and my own realization that I am either more crazy than I ever imagined or just that desperate. In addition, my roommate, who is also a member of the gym, reported back to me that she thinks “he is a tool.” Because I don’t care to care anymore, I tend to agree.

So with that in mind in the gym the next day, I took a good look around to see if I could find a new gym boyfriend. You may be asking, Lia- why not a coffee shop boyfriend or a subway boyfriend? The answer is because I can more or less count on being in the gym at the same time every day, and it’s just easier.

So anyways, I’m back looking around when I spot a really cute boy that I see on most days, and I never paid any attention to him because despite his good looks he has got a giant outline of a star, as in a PERMANENT TATTOO, on his elbow. I contemplated during sit ups and decided that I did not need a crush. And I’ll tell you why.

What many of you may not know is that I actually have a quasi-boyfriend (who knows my name and converses with me on a daily basis) in real life. His name is Jason and he lives in Miami. He is a great guy who, without ever saying a negative word, watched me move to New York (and therefore away from him) and encouraged me to embrace life here. Last September, we broke up because the distance was too much but we still talk every day. I’m not sure what the future will bring, but I’m hopeful…and my point is that I have a great guy in real life, albeit, not close by and not someone I see every day…but maybe I need to just have a crush on him for a while and see where that takes me.


American Idol

I feel like I did when Tamyra Gray got kicked off too early. Although I didn’t see Chris going all the way I don’t think Katherine deserves to be in the top three. This is the root of my love/hate relationship with Idol. However, I will be rooting wholeheartedly for Elliot- goooo Elliot!

Unan1mous

Pretty glad that Tarah got the money…for a moment I got scared and thought it was all going to go to Richard. In the last few weeks Jonathan has quit wearing the wife beater and I found my interest decreasing in each scene in which he was fully clothed. Ahh well….see my above entry and why I cannot care!

Aruba

Was the best island ever. Photos coming soon. I highly recommend for all those who are in need of rest and relaxation!

Sorry

I have been horrible at updating this the last two weeks. I had a vacation to Florida the weekend of the 21st and another one this weekend to Aruba (yay!) upcoming, so needless to say, I've been a busy bee. Sometimes the stress to go on vacation is more than it's worth!

However, rest assured I have lots of thoughts I'm looking to get out, but just haven't been able to find the time to write down.

Among topics I NEED to vent on: More celebrity sightings, American Idol (of course), the Sopranos, weight loss, working out, my gym boyfriend and Shania Twain, tattoos on boys, roommate heartbreak and more.

Stay tuned!

Boston, SoBe and AI

Dane Cook Vs. Imaginary Gym Boyfriend

This past weekend I went to Boston to watch my first choice of imaginary boyfriend, Dane Cook (google him) perform his HBO comedy special. I’ve been watching Dane Cook for several years, ever since some girl on my first job (who later turned out to be a traitor bitch but that’s another story for another day) made me listen to his CD in her car during our lunch hour. And I’ve been in love ever since when I saw what he looked like. He is seriously the funniest person ever, plus he’s hot, which equals instant love on my part, pretty much. I have a sneaking feeling my gym boyfriend is not as funny. Equally hot though.

I also realized the other day that there is a very excellent possibility, that through the power of the internet, my gym boyfriend could read this blog, and therefore, know these thoughts each and every time I walk in and out of the facility. That won’t keep me from writing about it, but I just thought I’d throw that out there.

8th and Ocean

Love it! Check it out.

Real Time Thoughts on American Idol


Because I had such a great time doing it last week, here are my realtime thoughts on American Idol:

Pre-Show:

- Rod Stewart’s hair is pretty cool, but does anyone else see the irony in having a British guy coach the American Idols on the great American songbook?

- Rod Stewart’s baby is damn cute.

- Can Kimberly Stewart possibly be Rod’s adopted daughter? She is so unclassy. He seems cool. Old guy. Young wife. Young baby. Sweet.

- How corny that they are all singing upon his entrance. Gag.

Show:

- Chris: Chris’s practice totally confirms what I knew last week – that he was sooooo wearing eyeliner (bottom lids!! Yikes!!) during his performance last week. I love how Rod Stewart gives everyone a hug.
Chris’ outfit is hot. So is his lack of makeup…I prefer him very au natural (Thank you Ryan for pointing that out!)- do you hear that Fox stylists??? I think his performance was totally awesome. He is definitely the best one on this show. Whoa, hello Paula Abdul’s cleavage. Put it away!!

- Paris: I think I would like extensions like Paris’ extensions – totally. I think this is totally Paris’ type of song- this is the best she’s ever sounded. I also like her fake eyelashes and fear I might have to try that out myself. I really liked Paris tonight, for the first time in a while.

- Taylor: I think Taylor really needs to knock it out of the park tonight if he wants to stay in it- those are two tough acts to follow. Oooh Taylor, tres smooth! What an ending!!! Yay Taylor!!!!!!!!! What did the Idols do this weekend? Let’s bring back Rod Stewart every week!! God Paula’s boobs are like ON THE TABLE. Thank you camera for cutting away. Wow Simon is totally on drugs tonight! Love it!

(something I just thought of- Ace is going to suck it up dude….)

- Elliot: Ahh my favorite contestant! So excited to see what he might do. Ahh he drops the bomb that his mom was a singer back in the day- now things make sense! OH WOW! LOVE THE OUTFIT!!!! Elliot is smiling more, and snapping a lot...which I love but think America will hate. I’m afraid I must agree with Simon’s assessment, despite the protests of others.

- Kellie: She looks cute, but I think I finally figured out what bothers me about her delivery- she doesn’t move her arms at all! They’ve stayed by her side the whole time and I think if you look back at other weeks, it’s the same thing, except when she does the whole point-and-drop-to-her-knees move. Ehh, I think Kellie could have done something awesome at the end there, but she didn’t. Weird…..At least she handled it with humor and grace.

(oh and here we go)….

- Ace: Whoa, hair slicked back, did I see? Ace’s eyes are two different sizes. Hmmm, hair don’t know…don’t know. I’m thinking NO. Not bad, but I think I just fell asleep for a second. Ok he pulled out of the weird stare which was good, I was scared for a second. Ace has no idea what he wants to be, and this is going to be a problem. It’s already a problem for me.

- Katherine: Oh I like her hair! Maybe I should grow mine long again so I can do something like that. I’ve done my makeup like that before too, which is probably only awesome to me, but worth noting. She has the eyelashes on too, which totally confirms I must get them. That was really good….the song, as well as the hair and makeup.


Hmm I have no idea who I’m going to vote for to be in the bottom three, this is going to be hard…very, very hard.

Celebrity Spotting with Lia

Colin Farrell

The first rule of celebrity spotting- if you think that person looks just like (insert celebrity here) take a second look. I happen to be a CHAMPION celebrity spotter. I have seen Angelina Jolie, Gwen Stefani, Julia Styles, Michael Keaton and several others simply because I say hey that looks just like so and so! And lo and behold it is.

Today I add Colin Farrell to this list. I was walking toward my apartment and he was walking away. I said to myself, I actually said it to the person I was on the phone with, “Hey, that looks like Colin Farrell!” and then I looked again and it was. He looked at me too! Yay! This brings the number of celebrities I have made eye contact with to four:
Colin Farrell, Andre 3000 of Outkast, Spliff Star of of the Flip Mode Squad…and my beloved Craig David.

Immediate things I noticed:
- Jean jacket with jeans – big no, no.
- Really big eyes.
- Not very tall.
- Gray hair. Dyed for a part? Product of rough living? To be debated.

Never the less, very exciting.

Bill and Melinda Gates

One of the things I like most about the Gates is that they really seem to care. The Gates Foundation supports, oh I don’t know, one million different charities, and yet they keep such a low profile that you would never know. Oprah is a good philanthropist as well, but she talks about her good works so damn much. That’s not to say that if Bill Gates had his own show he wouldn’t talk about himself…but I digress.

On today’s Oprah, I watched America’s Silent Epidemic…and blah blah. Long story short, Bill and Melinda Gates rule!

Sisqo

Just a question…whatever happened to Sisqo?

Real Time Thoughts on American Idol

Bucky – Hmm. Okay not bad.

Ace- Were you seriously trying to tell Queen how to arrange We Will Rock You? Seriously?? ….Seriously?

Kelly Pickler – Okay Kelly..Okay, I finally liked you tonight!

Chris – A little heavy on the make-up tonight, were you wearing eyeliner? No matter. Not sure about the song, but I will still have your children if you asked me to. Love the tight T-shirt…LOVE it.

Kathryn McPhee – Definitely the best voice in the competition. Great choice of song. Think Simon got it just right.

Elliott – Love him. E-Double-L? Heart it! Okay I take back what I said about Kathryn. Elliott has the best voice. Can the back up singers quiet down a bit? I got goosebumps at the end! Love Elliott! Will Simon call this a moment?

Taylor – Good choice of song! This is Queen’s song? Weird. I love the dance moves but wish Paula would just sit down. Old Taylor is back –I Love It!

Paris – Damn, Paris you look good tonight! You should always wear extensions. I don’t get how that voice comes out of that body sometimes. I wish you wouldn’t do that ridiculous head-banging thing...kind of ruined it. Overall, started stronger then you finished, but I liked it.