CONFESSIONS OF A TOTAL LAME ASS....

IN THIS EDITION, YOURS TRULY SHARES AN EMOTIONAL 4 MINUTES AND 2 SECONDS WITH AN ADULT CONTEMPORARY SOFT ROCK BALLAD...I KNOW, RIGHT? WHAT THE FUCK?

On a side not though, that's a pretty great picture of Nicky Hilton I have above in the overalls, right?

So I found myself last Wednesday having one of those days where you just wanna pull your hair out, shit bricks, and then take said bricks and throw them at pedestrians who walk too slow at the crosswalk. I was literally doing everything I could not to walk around the city screaming fuck you while having a bitch fit on the sidewalk reminiscent of Linda Blair in The Exorcist (Or Lindsay Lohan on any given morning, afternoon, evening, etc.). Of course I found myself returning home from work, stuck in the typical Los Angeles traffic, which is about as cool as Herpes and Steve Urkel combined, when I found myself all of a sudden being serenaded by the one-hit-wonder angel herself, Ms. Anna Nalick. Remember that "Just Breathe (2am song)" which was pretty much used as generic filler for any emotional scene in a shitty one-hour drama tv program or two star Anne Hathaway romantic comedy flick bewteen 2005 and 2008. My immediate concern should have been "why the fuck am I listening to a station that would play Anna Nalick??? What is this, the mildly to moderately depressed college girl station???? Or more importantly, why do I know who Anna Nalick is (God, my reality is sad when I really stand back and look at it). Anyways, I actually found myself there, like a giant retard taking the advice of Anna Nalick, the simple yet genius advice of "just breathe." There I am at a red light on Fountain and La Brea breathing in and out like a 30-something soccer mom named Nadine at a Suburban Lamaze class, while my husband the insurance claims adjustor Clay coaches me (Nadine and Clay...sounds like a fuckin match made in Heaven, right...Very Jon and Kate...except not fat and miserable). Anyways, four minutes and two seconds later the song is over, and there I am, feeling as if I've just been through an express therapy session. Funny what a generic soft pop anthem will do to lift your spirits. Give it a week and I'm sure I'll have some fuckin ridiculous out of body experience while listening to "Beautiful" by Christina Aguilera.

This tender lesbian moment brought to you by Saved By The Bell: Wedding in Las Vegas... a film that brought together the long-awaited union of Zack Morris and Kelly Kapowski...Arguably the hottest couple on TV since Mike Seaver and Boner on Growing Pains (And don't even say they weren't cause you know damn well they were!) Anyways, I seriously don't remember this Lilith Fair-esque moment, but clearly Zack isn't where Kelly's passion really lies. Instead her heart clearly belongs to America's favorite Caffeine pill popping/Honor's Student/Feminist High-schooler/Heinous headband enthusiast Jessie Spano. You can almost hear "Come to My Window" by Melissa Etheridge flowing in the distance.

P.S. Did Elizabeth Berkley literally come running from the set of Showgirls to make it their for this appearance?

P.S. Part 2: So gonna rent Showgirls tonight and blast Indigo girls the whole way home from the office

I've crossed over to the dark side...

...Or at least I've finally registered as a resident, seeing as I've been on the outside looking in for quite some time now. The dark side of course not referring to the Republican party (which of course would require a nickname much worse than the dark side). I'm referring to the world of bloggers which has long been synonymous in my mind as a world for star trek obsessed 30-something virgins, living in their parent's basements in New Jersey wearing an oversize T-shirt with some sort of lame-ass video game slogan such as "Touch my Joy stick" or "Push My Buttons" with a picture of a playstation controller below it. Hilarious to some (Maybe); Pathetic to the socially capable masses (Abso-fuckin-lutely). Luckily I hate star trek, haven't been a virgin for quite some time, am only in my mid-20s and I haven't lived with my folks since leaving for college, and haven't picked up a video game controller since Sonic the Hedgehog was the head bitch in charge (H.B.I.C. to all the "I Love New York" fans out there). However this blog will be a blatant display of my one unhealthy addiction (And I'm not referring to the black tar heroin, that's merely a hobby, not an addiction). That unhealthy addiction, which will no doubt land me on an upcoming installment of Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew or at the very least Intervention (seeing as Im not a celebrity), is reality television and pop-culture mania. I work full-time everyday and am successful and hard-working (usually not an attribute one can associate with blogging), I have a great social life and am out nearly every night of the week (Just ask anyone from Sunset and Gower to Santa Monica and Robertson), yet my DVR is chock full of "the hot-ness." Said hot-ness is the America's Next Top Model, Real World, Charm School, Real Housewives of everywhere from Orange County, to New Jersey, to Back woods Kentucky (Where marrying family still flies...so if you're still into your brother Ms. Jolie-Pitt...well let's just say Southwest can take you round trip). Then there's the Rock of Loves, Flavor of Loves, Real Chance of Loves, I Love Money, Tough Love, oh my God someone get me a fresh pair I've bumped a crap shipment in the diesels...and yeah I said crap shipment (Get Jealous!). I've spent many a sunday afternoon recouping from a weekend saturated in more bacardi and tequila than Paris Hilton's prom dress, in front of the television catching up on all of my favorites from Bay Bay Bay, to Big Rig, to crazy-eyed Vicki...I understand these pseudo-names may seem as insignificant as Ali Lohan (I kno, right? What is that?) to you at the moment, but stick with me and they'll seem equally as important as the global economy, foreign policy and gonorrhea (Which I mention cause somehow it still holds relevency in everyday conversation...who knew?).
Outside of the reality television arena, which let's face it, is the greatest venue since The Hollywood Bowl, I am engulfed endlessly in the celebrity-gossip world, the entire pop-culture epidemic, and all of the random, faces, figures, and events that come with it, both entertainment and political as well. So that being said, stick with me as I waste your time (and mine) as we tear the giant ass that is the blogosphere a new one, but unlike all those loser ass dicks that get lost in the shuffle we're gonna make this asshole count (wow, that final statement could be interpreted in some unpleasant ways).