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.

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.

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.

Cat Hair in my Coffee

Well, after much ado about everything my psychosis lost and my instincts took over.  Yesterday, we brought home our first "child."  His name is Jake and he is a blue ragdoll cat.  He's adorable and scared.  I was ecstatic.  I still am.  The pro's are I love him and he's so cute and loving.  The cons are that there was a cat hair in my coffee this morning.  I thought to myself, "holy shit!  This is the choice I've made for at least 10 years."  There will be cat hair in my life-line until I no longer have a cat.  My psychosomatic symptoms are taking over and making me ask "am I allergic to this new family member because my chest is tight?  Or is it from getting wasted the night before."  Remind me not to get that wasted again for at least another week.  Will that ever change??  Having a "child" makes you think of these things, and yes I'm being dramatic.  I can't be anything else no matter how hard I try.  Still.  I sit.  I think.  ALL day.  EVERY day.  At least now there is someone here to listen and instead of telling me I'm crazy (which I am well aware of) he will look up at me with big blue eyes, purr, and head back to his hiding space.

If you're reading this.....

Just do yourself a favor and check out the band M83.  I can't say enough good things about them!  They're my favorite band, officially, right now.  Right this second.  Start with the album Saturdays=Youth, easily, with track #2 "Kim and Jessie."  Or just buy it and sit and close your eyes or drive and listen to it all the way through.  It will tell you a story, a different one with each playing.  If you hate it, don't tell me.

Who am I to say?

I don't believe laziness should be rewarded.  At all.  Sloth is one of the 7 deadly sins.  I think the false presentation of oneself should be the 8th sin, but I guess it's superficially ( no pun intended )

to all 7 anywhooo.  I suppose all things eventually right themselves, especially the wrongs.  So vague, and not always easily seen, the universe does have an uncanny way of "righting" itself.  It's just a shame we can't always see it, although I wouldn't want people up in my business seeing the universe come down on me when I've been unintentionally asking for it.  

I'm drifting.

The point is, It's not my place to right the wrongs of douchebags, or the equivalent of douchebag behavior.  I want to.  However, my father put it best when I was growing up.

"Dad," I would say "I want that!"  he'd say to me "Well kid, in the words of the Stones, 'You Can't Always Get What You Want.' "  He was right.  I'm not going to stop trying though.

2009 + 30= ch,ch,ch,ch-changes!

Ah, the changes a year brings. " I'll change for no one!" She shouts as she falls over a crack in the sidewalk.  But, the bitch gets up.  The next year re-states to the universe, "I will change for no one!"  as she runs into an innocent bystander on the street.  This year she mutters "I will change for no one?"  a drop of rain falls in her eye and she is temporarily blinded, blinded I say!

Then she stops and thinks....shit, I guess I don't really have a choice, eh?  (She's Canadian)

I'll tell you about 30.  I don't fell or (really) look any older, but there are certain noticable and uncomfortable things happening.  One, my body aches like a bitch!  All those miles have definitely caught up with me.  (Who's with me, dancers?)  The other, and probably the most alarming, is my sudden light-speed hair growth.....Not the hair on my head.  EVERYWHERE ELSE!!  

Everywhere

Everywhere

Everywhere

I suddenly believe in the theory of evolution.  It's a very plausible concept.  My tweezers and razor have become my best friend.  I can't leave home without them, just in case.  My fiance tried to brush a hair from my chin yesterday only to find that it had been rooted and blossomed in my epidermis.  What. the. fuck?   Thank God he's going through this too, only...differently.  It's a funny and endearing thing to find hairs on eachother that don't brush off.  Well, with him a it's a little different, but that's another blog!

I'm terrified for swimsuit season, I have a honeymoon coming up and I'm afraid we're going to have to go to Iceland!  At least Bjork will be there to sing sweet and pingy lulla-bye 's to us as we flap our hairy bodies together with the hopes of creating a young cub.  Now that's a hyperballad.

*DISCLAIMER:  I'm NOT trying to conceive on my honeymoon.