Thursday, February 19, 2009

Fake is the newest Real


The Real Housewives of Orange County make me Real Real (really) mad.

I don't know how many people actually watch the show, but it's worth it.
It's no RHO Atlanta....(sung: There's a Tightro-ohhhhpe,) but it's a beast all unto itself.

I don't know why I feel obligated to blog about it, but I mean shit.
It makes me want money.
There I said it.
I don't want to be one of these bitchy, soul-less zombies, but I want their money.
Is that so bad?
I would do more with it.
I would still shop at the Salvation Army and look for the 50% off tags.
I would still look for the cheapest thing on the menu so I could drink more.
I would still use my grocery store savings card.

In addition to this:
I would finally get to carry a designer bag that isn't 2nd-hand
I would sit in my beautiful house on my outdoor entertainment area and write, write, write
I would be able to allow myself to buy JUST ONE Betsey Johnson dress
I would still have a job but one I've always WANTED, like owning a Vintage store where I could help girls who can't afford it have an amazing prom!

However...
I would never be able to leave the house because if those women represented on the show were the people I would have to associate with, I might just turn into one of them.  

Now, 
that
aint
too
rich.

I think I'll stay poor and happy.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Flesh Tones


Flesh, skin, dermis, epidermis.  
The rubbery substance that covers our internal organs and skeleton.
It's fucking weird if you break it down like that.  
I was riding the train "late night" last night when I realized.
Ew.  Our skin is crazy.  
That's awfully vague.

Crazy= Outer layer that is completely randomly shaped according to your parents skin and where your cartilage lies.

I mean whoa. 
 I know this is so remedial but I thought about it for a good 2o minutes, just staring at the faces of strangers.  I'm thankful for where my cartilage lies.  (PS I had to spellcheck that word.)  I thought it was cartiledge.  Nope.  Oh but here's the point.

We have the ability to really fuck with our skin!  
I mean facelifts, nose jobs, boob jobs :)
I want to tell all those crazy aped face 60 year old bitches with the liver spotted hands and smooth, shiny face skin that their organs are still old.  Their bones are STILL old.  Their minds are the oldest they have ever been, and...
You don't look young.  
You look like Dr. Zais.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

On a side note....


I want a perfectly decorated apartment and a keener sense of style.
I want a social life that is more demanding than it is now, but less demanding than it is now.
I don't want my lips to be chapped.
I don't want to be sick on this gorge-mahorgeony snowy day!
I want to get my nails done
I don't want to pay for that.
I want to be rich.
I don't want to "work" for it.
I want to eat cheese without guilt.
I don't want constipation.
I want to drink at least a bottle of wine a day.
I don't want to be an alcoholic.
I want my biological clock to stand still for one goddamn moment. (Im STILL not ready!)
I don't want the pressures of 'keeping up with the Joneses.'
I want to say if it's a lip synch...it isn't a live performance.
I want to accomplish an accomplishment.
I want to stop getting pit stains in my white shirts.
I want to eat whatever I want and NEVER GET FAT!
I want to kill Cathy from the Cathy comics.  (mmmm chocolate. ew.)
I want to stop procrastinating.

Other than that....I think all is well.