Thursday, August 30, 2012

Babies are cute until you name them something stupid

As a young 20-something woman who aspires to do wonderful things (ha ha ha) with her life, I can definitively say that Giuliana Rancic is one of my idols. I aspire to be like her so many ways it's insane. She has overcome so many obstacles (cancer, infertility, long-distance marriage, etc.) and has smiled for the cameras THE ENTIRE TIME. Her enormous forehead aside, the woman is as amazing as they come.

So this is why, after reading extensive breaking news reports this morning, I HAVE to wonder why IN GOD'S NAME she would  name her child Edward Duke [Rancic].

That baby's face when he realizes that he has to go by 'Ed' forever
Aside from the "it's a family name!" argument, I can't possible imagine that Giuliana and Bill thought that it was normal to name your child Edward in 2012. I can't understand this, and it's stressing me out. There are names out there that are so much better (and so much worse, but more on that in a minute) than Ed. It's 2012; get with the program, people.

The name Edward itself has been on the rise since the Twilight franchise made its debut, but I can't imagine Giuliana - who is a celebrity in her own right - would name her much-awaited child after a fictional character. The only upside to this unfortunate choice (aside from the fact that the Rancic's finally have a baby after YEARS of waiting) is that Edward Duke sounds kind of regal, almost more prince-like than William or Harry. (How dare I say such a thing! A GASP heard around the world!)

Keeping in tune with the idea of the stupid names parents give their children, I want to look at some other ridiculous ideas that people came up with. I'm sure you've heard of the guy who named his child after the Facebook "Like" button. I'm sorry but no one likes (ha ha ha) Facebook THAT MUCH.

Then there are celebrities who decided that a life in the spotlight wasn't enough for their child - they have to give them a stupid name as well. I.e., Apple, Pilot Inspektor, Kal-El, Fifi Trixibelle, Kyd, Sage Moonblood, Destry, Memphis Eve (really, BONO, REALLY?), Prince Michael II/Blanket, Moon Unit, Diva Thin Muffin, Moxie Crimefighter, and the worse baby name I have ever heard, EVER, Jermajesty. That's a good one, Jermaine Jackson, way to scar your child for the REST OF IT'S LIFE.

Real people name their children moronic things also. How about La-a, pronounced "La-dash-a?" What about Adrenaline, pronounced "A-Dra-Nee-Lynn," with the emphasis on the NEE. I mean...what compels these people?

Urhines Kendall Icy Eight Special K is a real person. So is GoldenPalaceDotCom Silverman. Apparently, "in 2005, the Internet casino paid $15,000 to name a baby after itself and got more than it paid for in media attention." Is this real life? I can't believe that people like this exist in this world. What is going to happen to that child when it goes to school and has to repeat its name to everyone it meets. You know who else is a real person? God Shammgod, apparently.

The 2010 #99 most popular name for a girl was Nevaeh, which is Heaven spelled backward. I will literally never understand people.

And finally...

"If a girl shows any interest, I'm like, 'Yes! I love you, you're amazing!'"

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Russell is Jesus, right?

This isn't really topical or relevant anymore, but can someone - somewhere in this wide world of the internet - tell me why Katy Perry and Russell Brand broke up? I didn't see her documentary and every article I've read on the subject is so vague it's insane. It makes me sad to not understand this.

As much as I love Katy, I have to say that I am definitely on Team Russell on this one. I read his autobiographies and laughed so hard I fell off my chair several times. People in public were laughing at me, laughing at him. It's hard to hate someone that funny, even if they were a drug addict at one point. Here's an example:

Like I said, not exactly topical anymore, but relevant to my interests nonetheless.
A few days ago I re-visited my previous discovery of If you've never heard of it, is "online dating service and social network service marketed primarily to people who are already in a relationship." In other words, a place where cheaters go to cheat. It makes me a little sick to know that a website like this exists in this world, especially considering how rampant cheating has become.

Do people really need a social network for this kind of thing? What happened to just being a creeper in a bar somewhere, working your magic while your wife (and wedding ring) sits at home watching RHONJ? Gotta wonder. People are so lazy these days they need the internet to do their cheating-research for them. I wonder if there is a cure for this kind of douche bag. Let's get on that, science.

Apparently Washington DC (where I currently reside) is ranked number one in terms of membership to the site. Shocking, isn't it? Honestly.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Rihanna's beautiful music. And Snooki's baby..aka the apocalypse.

Alright, I'm back from hiatus and I have one question for you: why is Rihanna still relevant? I understand that I"m probably offending a lot of Ri-Ri fans here, but I just can't figure it out. Aside from her songs "Man Down" and "California King," which I just adore, I haven't heard a song from her that didn't make me want to die in a long, long time. For example: "Birthday Cake." Also:

We found love in a hopeless place

Yellow diamonds in the light
Now we’re standing side by side
As your shadow crosses mine

We found love in a hopeless place

It's no wonder she has had literally one album out per year since 2005. It doesn't take long to put one together when all you're doing is repeating the same b.s. for three minutes or less. I wish Noah would come back with that ark so we could put her on it and sail her off into the ocean forever.

Joan Rivers, apparently, feels the same way. I think the rule here is that Joan Rivers was alive for the GREAT DEPRESSION and is therefore so old that it's safe to say she literally knows everything. So, Rihanna, maybe you shouldn't have a Twitter war with someone old enough to have witnessed the Dust Bowl.

This excerpt is why I love Joan Rivers. And also why Rihanna should stick to making whatever it is she makes that is supposed to be music. (via SF Chronicle)
"Rivers, who took to Twitter to call the star out on her confession, writing, 'Rihanna confessed to Oprah Winfrey that she still loves Chris Brown. Idiot! Now it’s MY turn to slap her.'
Rihanna quickly retaliated, replying, 'Joan_Rivers wow u really do get slow when you’re old huh?', before adding, 'Slap on some diapers.'
Rivers then tried to make amends by inviting her on her show 'Fashion Police,' writing, 'Honey, Rihanna, everyone knows: If he hit you once, he’ll hit you again. Read the statistics. PS – Love to have you on Fashion Police!'"
I know Joan technically started it with her mocking comments to Oprah, but suggesting that an 84-year old woman wear diapers is crossing the line, Ri-Ri. Especially when the woman IS RIGHT.  But, all is not lost! She's apparently dating a Kardashian now so hopefully she'll be absorbed into their awesomeness and start to suck less.

For one second, I would like to say something about all men ever:

You're welcome.

In other news, Snooki had her baby yesterday. While I am a fan of the idiocy that is the Jersey Shore - I'm from New Jersey after all - I can't help but wonder what that baby is going to grow  up to be. I can't pretend to know anything about how intelligent Snooki is in real life, I can say that they way they've framed her on TV and the way I've seen her on Twitter make her look like an absolute moron.

Lobster, the only thing that's alive when you kill it.
WHAT IS SHE GOING TO TEACH THIS CHILD. I swear to god, Lorenzo Dominic is going to have a spray tan before he turns one. I'm waiting for the picture to document that occasion. I seriously cannot wait to watch this child grow up and make fun of what I'm sure will be his absolute idiocy. No offense, kid.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Antoine Dodson is the best present I've ever recieved

I'm not sure if there is anyone out there who HASN'T heard of Antoine Dodson and the Bed Intruder Song by now, but if you're reading this and you haven't, please watch these videos and commence rolling on the floor in laughter. And if you them again because they never get old.

The 1:00 minute mark is when it gets good

And now for the song:

It's catchy, you have to admit. When I first discovered it in college my friends and I would sing it like it was a real song by a real band. Hilarity ensues.
As my one-year anniversary with my boyfriend is coming up in September (cue: awwww), I recently had to start looking for a wonderful/fabulous/insightful/creative present to give him. This was easy for me, as I am excellent at picking out gifts. I chose something creative that I knew he would LOVE and then immediately started thinking about what he is going to get for me. [Disclaimer: I LOVE gifts. Love them. Makes me sound selfish, but who doesn't love getting a present from someone that loves them? Or that you love?]

Anyway, this made me think about gift giving in relationships. There are so many different rules and stipulations and regulations it makes my head spin sometimes. "We've only been dating for two months, is it okay if I buy him this iPad?" No. But what do you get him, then, a sweater? What about when you've been dating for five years and you're out of creative presents? Do you start buying each other practical things, like vacuums and packs of boxer shorts? It's a confusing world out there and someone needs to write some sort of practical gift-giving guide for relationships in your 20s. Let's get on that, science.

Today someone told me that they didn't like the Hunger Games and that they thought Josh Hutcherson and Liam Hemsworth were unattractive. This is all I have to say:

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Idiots are everywhere. Especially on Facebook.

Facebook makes the world go 'round. No, seriously. I'm fairly positive that the world would stop spinning on its very axis if Facebook were to shut down for more than five minutes. Why, you ask? Because it's so darn entertaining. While I don't subscribe to any of the games (aside from Words with Friends, obviously) or Foursquare-type apps (hello, begging someone to rob you party of ONE), I do use Facebook for what it was made for: stalking people.

If you don't admit to Facebook stalking, you're lying. Or experiencing memory loss of some kind. Significant others, actual friends, fake friends, frenemies, acquaintances, EX-SIGNIFICANT OTHERS, family members, the list goes on and on. Click on one then click on the next and BAM - three hours come and gone and you're still sitting in front of the computer staring at timeline profiles and hundreds of pictures.
One of the great things about being an excellent Facebook stalker (like myself) is all the funny things you have the potential to see. Some people in this world are just legitimate morons and like to make that evident everywhere ever. THIS WEBSITE chronicles some of the "Huge Drama Queens" out there and will make you want to hide in a room under the stairs with your intelligence, but it will also make you laugh, so there's that. Plus these people are idiots and it's hilarious.

I really just LOVE to read vague statuses about how sad/angry/depressed, etc you are. I love it. But really, it makes me want to gauge my eyeballs out with a pencil. And yet, I can't stop reading. My particular favorites are the ones with blatant and sometimes ironic grammar or common-knowledge mistakes. Also, general idiocy. Ten points to the people with witty responses.

 And also this: 
 And finally, we should all follow the Scott Disick life philosophy:

Monday, August 20, 2012

50 shades of that is never going to happen

You know what I want right now more than anything else in this world? For someone to set Todd Akin loose in a room full of pro-choice women wielding stones. This article in Jezebel says everything else that is necessary on this matter.

A few months ago--like every other female between the ages of 18 and dead in this country--I read the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy (in two days). While I was underwhelmed by the writing style and all of the English-major type stuff that I should have been outraged about (HE SPANKS HER?! DEAR GOD. Her inner goddess? Please. Horrible narrative voice, etc), what rankled me the most was the idea of Christian and Anna as a couple. [Let's not confuse the following with the idea that I hated the books--I, in fact, loved them. LOVED, people. LOVED.]

I'm sure there are girls everywhere stumbling into the offices of the nearest Fortune 500 company just hoping to catch the interest of a stunning-yet-troubled CEO who will fall in love with them in the first three minutes of conversation. That is, if they're not kicked out for trespassing or disappointed by the fact that the CEO they found is most likely a 60-year old man. I don't care if you're a not-so-skinny brunette like Anastasia, it is never going to happen for you.

It is entirely possible to read this book and then go back to your normal, every day life with no fantasy or notion that this will one day be you. And then there are the women who think that this can be their life. You know what I think about that? It's never going to happen. Kate Middleton married a Prince and you don't see every brunette ever thinking they, too, can be a Princess like her. 

Let's keep calm and disavow the entire world of this notion right now. Also, if they cast Kristen Stewart in the movie I am going to go absolutely-fantastically-legitimately-NUTSO.

I will also go into hiding when the clothing line comes out. Taking it a little too far, don't you think?

Later, when I'm done LOLing and dropping my taco, there will be a post about FACEBOOK DRAMZ. Stay tuned for that because you, too, can LSHIDMT. Laugh so hard I drop my taco, for those not in the know.

Also, Betty White is my hero. I challenge someone not to laugh at this. LSHIDMT.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Rich people are weird

If it were possible to become rich and spend every day sunning myself poolside with a drink and a book in my hand, I would do it. Call it a Trophy Wife, call it a Sugar Daddy, call it whatever you want. If you ask most of the women I know they will all tell you the same thing: they would choose that life over working all day 11 times out of 10.

Let's not get that desire confused with the compulsion to be born into a family with money and spend the entire day taking pictures that flaunt said money.  For example:
Yes, the total at the bottom of that receipt is over 100,000 dollars. It it entirely possible that unless some freak miracle happens I will never see that lump sum in my entire life. There is also this:

If you're gonna do it, fine. But do you have to put it on Instagram, where 50 million people who probably can't afford to bathe in champagne and suck on a perfectly good credit card, have to see it? I'm all about calling your friends to tell them you're bathing in a liquid normally meant for drinking, but until I become wealthy enough to have a pool of Kool-Aid, I don't want to see pictures of someone else with one.

I make an exception for this closet because WHO DOESN'T WANT A CLOSET THAT LOOKS LIKE THIS?

So I'm making this a double post today because I saw this picture on Pinterest and now I want to talk about it. Or what it made me think of (aside from the obvious: HOW CUTE).

Dear Girl Who Is A Size Eight: You are not fat. The End.

I was in H&M yesterday and I heard a girl, who was maybe a size 6 on a bad day, exclaim: "I AM SO FAT OHEMMGEE THOSE PANTS WOULD MAKE MY BUTT LOOK LIKE AN ELEPHANT!" Aside from the general inaccuracy of that statement, I was a little offended. Not only was my butt bigger than hers, but she was not even a little bit chunky in any way. You know who is fat? This man:

Do you look like that man? Then chances are, you're not fat.

What upsets me about this is not that our culture has transformed the norm for beauty from Marilyn Monroe to Kate Moss (though that is an upsetting topic for another time), it is that girls now feel the need to talk about how fat they are in order to get "No way you're so skinny!" compliments from their friends - and pretty much everyone else in their vicinity. How about this? Shut up and eat a sandwich.

There are people in this world who are actually fat and would kill to be able to wear those paisley print pants.

I couldn't have said it better myself. Plus, I love cupcakes. Win/win.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

McKayla Maroney is not impressed


This morning I logged onto Facebook (duh) and realized that yet another of my former high school classmates had gotten married. That little heart popped up on the side of the screen and ruined my entire morning.

Wait, that sounds wrong. That makes me sound like I'm itching, desperate, waiting, wanting, WAITING to find a husband of my own. That's incorrect. What I don't understand is why - at 23 - you feel the need to tie yourself to another human being for the rest of your life. Or, more accurately, for the next five years of your life, after which you will break up and HAVE TO GET DIVORCED. And honestly, no one wants to date a 28 year old divorcee, so good luck getting back into the dating game.

You could, as alternate plan, date like a normal person in their twenties and get married when you're good and ready to commit to a life together that will last in the double digits. I know, I know, so-and-so's grandparents have been married since they were 18 and they are still in love, sixty years later. You know what I have to say to that? This isn't 1932. I THINK times have changed since then. Or so my iPad is telling me.

Commitment is commitment, ring or not. But then again, I'm not married so what do I know.

Aside from the shirtless men, this is the next best trend to come out of London 2012:

Married at 23? McKayla Maroney is not impressed. Also in the news today: Tom Daley is 18. I'm going to celebrate with a margarita. And a taco.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

The Universe Always Wins

Bad roommates, we've all had them. If you haven't then I guess you can just laugh at this and think about your good fortune (I probably hate you). I like to think that my roommate luck has been a war with the Universe. Let's see who wins in this grudge match, shall we?
Freshman year, I hit the random roommate lottery. Take that, Universe, that's a point for me.
Amanda-1, Universe-0

Sophomore year, I was placed in a suite of six girls, all with an attached bath and rooms so tiny you couldn't have laid on the floor between the beds. My suite mates were nice. Point for me.
Amanda-2, Universe-0

And then there was my actual roommate herself. I like to call her..well, I honestly try not to think about her at all. She was very busy so I was hoping it wouldn't turn out too bad. I could not have been MORE WRONG. 

She was a huge fan of blow drying her hair before soccer practice at 6 am, in our actual room. She left her Crocs (yes, you read that right) in the middle of the floor and she liked to just make me uncomfortable in a myriad of ways daily.

 She was annoying, but not all terrible, until the night she came home at 4 am and proceeded to throw up all over our entire tiny dorm room and then PASS OUT before cleaning it up. When I first woke up, I thought someone had bled to death. It was the middle of winter and therefore freezing, so I had to open all of the (two) windows and turn the fan on to air out the smell. Our room smelled like someone died for weeks after that. 
Amanda-2, Universe-1

Junior year I moved into a house with one of my friends and a few random girls. They were nice girls, if a bit annoying at times, but I had my own room so all was right with the world. One roommate, I'll call her The Worst Roommate Ever (TWRE, for short) started out awesome. If only I had been able to predict the future. The Universe gets a point for this year because of the havoc she causes later.
Amanda-2, Universe-2

Finally, my last year of college, I moved into an apartment with four of my friends. I get a point for three of the girls - though we had our spats - because I love them and anyone can tell you it's damn hard to live with your friends in those circumstances (or at all).
Amanda-3, Universe-2

I had four friends when I started the year, but after the first week I knew that would not last. TWRE never cleaned. Not one single time. She let the dishes pile up in the sink until someone was forced to do them for her, left dirty dishes everywhere, and didn't pick up a broom or a sponge for AN ENTIRE YEAR. She complained about how hard her coursework was (ALL. THE. TIME.) and blamed everyone but herself for her failures (she failed every test I ever saw her take in two years). She was a fan of forcing us to sit through her manic rationalizations of her failure. However, I cannot possibly write about all of the things she did over the course of the year because I would probably have to just die, so here are three instances stand out in my mind as things I would put her on trial for if that sort of thing were possible.

1) She once watched me clean a sink/kitchen full of HER dishes for two hours. Sat on the couch and watched. When I shattered a glass on my foot and had to clean up the blood, she said "wow, that must hurt."

2) She paraded into the room I shared with one of my actual best friends and said the following: "If Amanda doesn't remove her shampoo after her shower one more time I am going to put the bottles in her bed." This from the girl-who-never-cleans. It would have been ironic if I hadn't wanted to kill her.

3) She had this boyfriend. I'm pretty sure he was an alien from planet WHAT-THE-ACTUAL FREAKING-WHAT because he was the grossest, weirdest, dumbest person I have ever met. I can't even describe him without wanting to throw up in my mouth. Picture the ugliest, most annoying person you've ever met and multiply that by infinity. And he was also annoying, on top of it. Well, whenever he came over for the weekend I did my best to be out of the apartment or to lock myself in my room for fear of actually punching him in the face. One time I told him that I didn't like when strangers touched me, and he chased me around my own apartment trying to give me a hug. The fact that I never have to see him again makes me dance with all kinds of joy.

So, TWRE, she gets 5 points for the Universe because she was the worst roommate anyone has ever had ever.
Amanda-3, Universe-7

Finally, this past April, I moved in with my boyfriend in Maryland while I was searching for a place of my own. His roommate is a gamer in every sense of the word and there are many, many things I can say about him, but I will refrain - I still have to interact with him - and give it up for the Universe on this one. Just trust me.

Amanda-3, Universe- Infinity. Or 8, whatever.

You win, Universe. You win. I won the bad roommate lottery so many years in a row I'm not sure I ever want to live with anyone ever, ever again. Thanks for that, Universe. Thanks for that.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Sharks, because what else is there?

Last night, the Olympics went out with a WONDERFUL performance by the Spice Girls (be still, my beating teenage heart) and...well, not much else worth mentioning. Now, we could all mourn the loss of the single most popular thing to happen to TV for the last two weeks, or we could move on and pay attention to what's important THIS week (and forever, really): IT'S SHARK WEEK, PEOPLE.

Shark Week, also known as the best week of the year, where millions of people tune into watch gigantic animals fly through the air and eat people. However, sharks are not just vicious creatures that stupidly mistake humans for seals and then bite the crap out of them. (Have you seen "Soul Surfer?" That girl doesn't even cry when the shark bites off her arm). They are just animals, living their lives swimming in their vast oceans and BAM, something that looks tasty comes near them when they are hungry. Can you blame them, really? If a gigantic taco sidled up to me when I was starving I would eat it too. And its entire, cheesy family.

This Saturday is finally, FINALLY upon us (in five days). Not only is my cousin getting married (woooo!) but it is also the day the Hunger Games comes out on DVD (FINALLY). I have been waiting for this moment since I saw the movie in theaters with a hundred of Maryland's finest teens and tweens. Perhaps since I read the books for the first (second and third) times. 

I'm not normally one to catch on to the phenomenon book-to-movie franchises, but this one caught my attention because the book combined everything I love reading: it has a love story, violence, an interesting concept and it was easy to read to boot. It was an escape, and if they botch the second movie I will personally stage a legitimate protest. So, the point of this is: read it. And then see the movie. And then you can thank me.

And lastly, Taylor Kitsch:
You're welcome.

Friday, August 10, 2012

The Kardashians. And the emergence of the worst thing to come out of the Olympics.

I don't usually like to put anyone down (ha, ha, ha, HA, HA) for pursuing their creative dreams. Usually. And then I discovered Olympic fan fiction. A new trend that destroyed any hopes and dreams I had for my future ability to ever look at a picture of Michael Phelps and/or Ryan Lochte again without wanting to throw up a little in my mouth. 

It is more disturbing than that picture of the tanorexic mom or the way Joe Simpson talks about his daughters. If you don't believe me, just Google it. I promise you will be sorry.
Okay, it's time for my daily dose of the KARDASHIANS!! I'm not sure there is a single family in America that people seem to simultaneously love and loathe. Well, for the record, my feet are firmly planted on the side of I FREAKING LOVE THEM. Many, many people will probably be offended by what I am about to say. However, I don't care because all of the following is true.

I think the Kardashians, most especially Kris Jenner, are geniuses. I'm aware that the entire world just started throwing tomatoes (or stones) at me, but I will not back down, no matter what sharp objects are brandished in my direction. Anyone who can make heaps and heaps of money on the foundation of one singular sex tape deserves a nice place in the Famous-for-Nothing Hall of Fame. They have a hand in every single consumer and entertainment venture there is and are one of the single most recognizable names in the country (world?). And they have absolutely zero talent. ZERO. If that's not a work of genius, I really don't know what is.

So, therefore, this:

Gotta love the people who made a career - a FORTUNE - out of idiocy.
Right now, despite the wide array of ways my brain is being stimulated by the ridiculous antics of people who are richer than I am and who have so much less talent than I do, I am singularly amused by one athlete who is MORE talented than I am. And he knows it. He really, really does. I leave you with this piece of humble-pie:

I love Usain Bolt for this quote and for the fact that he can run 200m faster than it takes me to even say the words 'run 200m.'

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

What better way to start your day than with this little muffin? I watch this five-second video every morning without fail. If you don’t think this is funny, then you have no soul.

Alright, today I had a revelation while surfing Pinterest:

Scott Disick should have his own television show—and his own Pinterest category. Turns out he’s just HILARIOUS. Anyone who is that passionate about a cane and a top hat is alright with me. If you don’t believe me, Google some of his quotes, search him on Pinterest or YouTube or something. I promise you will be a fan in about as long as it takes to laugh at the very first thing that comes out of his mouth.
Let’s get down to business: aka my Olympics commentary of the day, of which I will never tire of providing even after the Olympics are over. Except for the week of August 12th, because that’s Shark Week and I consider that a holiday better than the likes of Christmas or my birthday.

Anyway, Ryan Lochte is a moron. I saw this video about a week ago and have not stopped showing it to every single person I have spoken to since then. It’s not necessarily a surprise that someone who looks like he does (HAVE YOU SEEN HIS BODY?!) and who is as good a swimmer as he is (HAVE YOU SEEN HIS BODY?!) would not necessarily be the best at interviews, seeing as he spends most of the time practicing his stroke and LOOKING LIKE HE DOES. 

However, at least Michael Phelps had the decency to realize that maybe he would have to open his mouth at some point and got himself some media training. Even the smartest person can let the camera intimidate them, but it couldn’t be more obvious (after a little research) that Ryan Lochte isn’t just bad at being in front of a camera. He’s just bad at life. He is, without a doubt, one of the dumbest people I have ever heard speak. And that is REALLY saying something, considering the people I know. Read these little tidbits in in his deep, surfer- boy voice and try not to throw up in your mouth before you’re finished.

“What defines me…Ryan Lochte”
“I can’t wait for swimming to be over so I can go to the market or something”
“The best part about swimming…is racing”

There are many, many other gems that once you hear you will never look at him the same way again. Unless he’s shirtless, in which case, HAVE YOU SEEN HIS BODY?!

In other news, Taylor Kitsch. And this cat:

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Lady Gaga, Farrah Abraham and Other Sources of Daily Idiocy

Today, I finally saw a picture of Lady Gaga’s boyfriend of about one year, Taylor Kinney. Taylor Kinney of Shameless and The Vampire Diaries fame is one hot piece of…vampire. In other words, WHAT IS HE DOING WITH LADY GAGA. In case you don't know what he looks like, here he is in all his shirtless glory. Now, I understand that Lady G is not necessarily as unattractive as her award show and performance persona would lead us to believe but I stand by my opinion on this.
The other night I watched the Women’s Gymnastics Vault finals of the Thirtieth Olympiad. The American gymnast who competed in this event was brought to the team specifically for her ability to nail this apparatus with nothing less than perfect form and execution. I’m not pretending to be a gymnastics aficionado here, but it seems to me that SITTING DOWN after the dismount is not necessarily the way to go if you want to win.

However, I don’t fault Ms. Maroney for this. Instead, I blame the commentators. If you were watching you know that right before she was set to perform her signature event, the announcers decided it would be a good idea to tell the world that she was, NO MATTER WHAT, a virtual lock for the gold medal. In essence, they gave her the Malocchio. It’s not her fault THEY JINXED HER. If I were you, MaKayla, I’d ask for a refund. And I’d also smile a bit after winning that Silver Medal.
I managed to spare a few minutes today to listen to former “16 and Pregnant” and “Teen Mom” star Farrah Abraham’s new song. And then I decided - against my better judgement - to read the first three pages of her forthcoming memoir that I came across online. As an aspiring writer I have to say this: her - or, more accurately, her ghostwriter - has a long way to go to make this book even remotely readable. Too bad it’s release date is IN A FEW DAYS. I won’t dare to quote anything directly for fear of making anyone reading this want to GAUGE THEIR EYEBALLS OUT. I’m not about violence, people. But I note that this book makes me want to, plainly speaking, give up on this planet. If I were to write a review on this book, all it would say is “No.” No other words are necessary.

If you’re curious about her song, a friend of mine at work told me that whoever produced this monstrosity (and by produced I of course mean auto-tuned), “auto-tuned her to the wrong notes because she was so off-pitch.” This from a composition major and music teacher. If you still want to listen to it, be my guest, but you’ll be wishing you were deaf afterward. Find it here, courtesy of