as a huge ANTM fan, i can't help but notice a trend in contestants. obviously most of the girls are tall and very skinny, as that is the aesthetic of the supermodel... and then they have the "plus size" contestant who is much, much larger. this is great, and i guess kinda helps to break the mold when it comes to the look of fashion models, but is probably largely for added drama-lama. my question is: where are all the average girls? the 6/8 and 10/12 girls who don't look like sticks but also don't fit into the "plus size" category. i know there are a lot of them. i know that when i'm at the mall checking out a sale rack i'm picking through piles of XS and XL clothing-- the least popular sizes. i can only assume that ANTM's viewers largely fall into this category of size S-L so why the hell can't they be represented in some way?
okay, okay. so i'm not that naive. i know that average people make for bad tv, and i ALSO know that fashion models tend to be ug-mos. with no hips for baby-bearing and no tits for suckling. (yeah i totally said suckling). so here is my proposition for reality TV executives. (they have the internets in hell right?)
Dear Reality TV Demons:
Girls with hips and tits and asses are really hot. Actually let me be clearer...REAL TITS. and trust me, real big tits can still make money in this world. So here we go. My brilliant idea for awesome reality tv. Next Top Pin-Up Model. Pin ups are totally in. Lets find the next Betty Page. Everyone and their Hot-Topic obsessed nerdy brother loves Betty Page. Hooray for exploiting alternative culture!
This is a show that i desperately need to watch/compete on. and to be truly successful, nipples have to be involved. So none of that blurring crap that i have to put up with on The Girls Next Door. This is why we have channels like Showcase.
Sincerely,
Merlot
People watch ANTM and other model shows because they idolize the ladies, or at least their size. when really, models aren't hot. and i'd like to see more hot girls on TV. Thank for coming out.
PS now that tyra is all fried chicken legs, she'd win next top pin up in a heartbeat so don't let her try out.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
To STD's, With Love.
So, I've been thinking. STD's have a really bad reputation. But you know what? I don't think having Chlamydia would be all that bad. So, you have to pee in a cup and fill an embarrassing prescription. Take some antibiotics and PRESTO! no more Chlamydia. I would trade my scoliosis for a case of chlamydia any day, hell make it two cases. In fact, cancel my sinus infection this winter and reschedule a date with Chlamydia.
Why stop at Chlamydia? Gonorrhea is just as good. Instead of getting my yearly infection of strep throat, i could mix it up; i could go down on some sorority slut instead and end up with the same sore throat but without the fever. Plus, i got to pleasure a stupid rich girl. Am i crazy or is that a definite upgrade?
Fuck i think even Syphilis is easily treated as long as you catch it early. I think i'd rather treat Syphilis then, oh, lets say, pass a kidney stone. Or suffer from migraines.
In short, STD's really aren't that bad.** People only fear them because they don't want their friends to think they sleep with crusty crack whores behind the 7/11. But the STD does not show mercy to anyone-- not even celebrities. I bet Jessica Alba has peed in a cup more than once.
And I would let her give me Chlamydia any day.
**Herpes and Warts still really suck. Also AIDS.
Why stop at Chlamydia? Gonorrhea is just as good. Instead of getting my yearly infection of strep throat, i could mix it up; i could go down on some sorority slut instead and end up with the same sore throat but without the fever. Plus, i got to pleasure a stupid rich girl. Am i crazy or is that a definite upgrade?
Fuck i think even Syphilis is easily treated as long as you catch it early. I think i'd rather treat Syphilis then, oh, lets say, pass a kidney stone. Or suffer from migraines.
In short, STD's really aren't that bad.** People only fear them because they don't want their friends to think they sleep with crusty crack whores behind the 7/11. But the STD does not show mercy to anyone-- not even celebrities. I bet Jessica Alba has peed in a cup more than once.
And I would let her give me Chlamydia any day.
**Herpes and Warts still really suck. Also AIDS.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Alcomohol: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Drunk.
Its 1AM. I am alone. I am listening to Mika and Lily Allen. I am facebooking. I am drinking.
Welcome to my monday through sunday night. And I use the term "night" loosely.
It wasn't always like this. Back in high school I would spend my nights taking webcam pictures of myself while listening to bright eyes and generally brooding in my parent's basement. I was alone, yes, but see, I was sober. I didn't go to parties. I never drank, nor did i have any real interest in drinking. In fact, I considered myself....."sXe". Looking back, i remember reading that you could not be considered a real "sXe" unless you had actually been a drinker and made the choice to stop. This was probably a good call. You also probably shouldn't make this decision at 15 because, what the fuck do 15 year olds know about whats good for them?
Long story short, one day I had a shot of whiskey and I never looked back. Slowly I realized that alcohol was not a monster, ready to make me do stupid shit and puke all over my goth boots from Walmart. Nope. Alcohol was a wonderful friend. I had better sex drunk. I had better discussions drunk. I laughed more. I loved more. It made me chiiiiill, winston.
I was still a lightweight going into college. I drank enough, but i hadn't had the high school practice. But i was never too dumb. I went to bed spinning but never threw up in a res hallway or woke up in a stranger's bed. At the beginning of second year, I started my official drinking training. I started a job as a shooter girl. And i didn't just sell pussy bitch shots, I had jager, goldschlager and sambuca. which, for your reference, are 35, 40 and 35ish percents respectively. You make better tips (and have a better time) as a shooter girl if you get people to buy you the hard shots, because (contrary to popular belief) guys like a girl that can hold her liquor. So i did. And couple months worth of killer hang overs later, I could drink with the best of them. You learn to be a competent drunk pretty quickly when you're holding 400 dollars.
My boy and I also moved in together in second year, and since his love of the drink is (if you can believe it) more profound than mine, we learned the pleasures of drinking together. Whether watching movies, tv or having discussions about nearly anything, a drink was not far from our reach. Some couples play tennis, others go to therapy, we drank. And we managed to do this regularly considering I was making mad cash from getting drunk at my job.
Those were the freakin days.
I was getting some.
And I wasn't drinking alone.
Since May, its just been me in our little apartment, while my drinking partner in crime is up nord making summer scrilla. I'm not working as a shooter girl anymore, and as can be expected, my tolerance is not quite what it was. Neither is my cash flow, so its probably a good thing i can get a buzz on from a fairly strong cosmopolitan or appletini. I guess the idea of getting drunk by yourself in a small apartment on a fairly regular basis seems sad, but its not really all that bad. All of the famous writers did. (EVERY SINGLE ONE) Of course, they tended to write literary masterpieces while they drank and all i can do i manage to write a blog entry about booze, but thats besides the point.
The point is.
Fuck it. I'm too drunk.
VIVA LA REVOLUTION!!! *swings gleefully from balcony*
Welcome to my monday through sunday night. And I use the term "night" loosely.
It wasn't always like this. Back in high school I would spend my nights taking webcam pictures of myself while listening to bright eyes and generally brooding in my parent's basement. I was alone, yes, but see, I was sober. I didn't go to parties. I never drank, nor did i have any real interest in drinking. In fact, I considered myself....."sXe". Looking back, i remember reading that you could not be considered a real "sXe" unless you had actually been a drinker and made the choice to stop. This was probably a good call. You also probably shouldn't make this decision at 15 because, what the fuck do 15 year olds know about whats good for them?
Long story short, one day I had a shot of whiskey and I never looked back. Slowly I realized that alcohol was not a monster, ready to make me do stupid shit and puke all over my goth boots from Walmart. Nope. Alcohol was a wonderful friend. I had better sex drunk. I had better discussions drunk. I laughed more. I loved more. It made me chiiiiill, winston.
I was still a lightweight going into college. I drank enough, but i hadn't had the high school practice. But i was never too dumb. I went to bed spinning but never threw up in a res hallway or woke up in a stranger's bed. At the beginning of second year, I started my official drinking training. I started a job as a shooter girl. And i didn't just sell pussy bitch shots, I had jager, goldschlager and sambuca. which, for your reference, are 35, 40 and 35ish percents respectively. You make better tips (and have a better time) as a shooter girl if you get people to buy you the hard shots, because (contrary to popular belief) guys like a girl that can hold her liquor. So i did. And couple months worth of killer hang overs later, I could drink with the best of them. You learn to be a competent drunk pretty quickly when you're holding 400 dollars.
My boy and I also moved in together in second year, and since his love of the drink is (if you can believe it) more profound than mine, we learned the pleasures of drinking together. Whether watching movies, tv or having discussions about nearly anything, a drink was not far from our reach. Some couples play tennis, others go to therapy, we drank. And we managed to do this regularly considering I was making mad cash from getting drunk at my job.
Those were the freakin days.
I was getting some.
And I wasn't drinking alone.
Since May, its just been me in our little apartment, while my drinking partner in crime is up nord making summer scrilla. I'm not working as a shooter girl anymore, and as can be expected, my tolerance is not quite what it was. Neither is my cash flow, so its probably a good thing i can get a buzz on from a fairly strong cosmopolitan or appletini. I guess the idea of getting drunk by yourself in a small apartment on a fairly regular basis seems sad, but its not really all that bad. All of the famous writers did. (EVERY SINGLE ONE) Of course, they tended to write literary masterpieces while they drank and all i can do i manage to write a blog entry about booze, but thats besides the point.
The point is.
Fuck it. I'm too drunk.
VIVA LA REVOLUTION!!! *swings gleefully from balcony*
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
There was a bug. Now, there is a bloodstain.
I am not particularly squeamish. If i find a spider in my house, i ignore it. When i see silverfish scurrying across my bathroom floor, i let them get on with their day. A moth just flew in my window right now, and i'm chill with that too.
But last night...I met the bug to end all of the bugs. And it was slightly less than chill.
So. Imagine. I have just got off work and walked in the door. It is nearing 1am. I put on an episode of The Girls Next Door and go to the kitchen to pour a glass of Yellow Jersey sauvignon blanc (which by the way, is the best wine evar). All is well, life is good, etc. As I am pouring, I catch a glimpse of something dark scuttling across the kitchen floor. My first reaction is to second guess--no, that can't possibly be anything alive coming for my bare fee..eeeeeet!!!
But it was. It was maybe 3 inches long. 1/2 inch wide. Dark brown. With a BILLION long spindly legs. Like imagine a hot dog spontaneously grows about 30 long skinny legs. That's what this thing looked like. I have never seen anything like it in my life. Its grossness rivaled any bug that my Creepy Crawlers machine ever made.
While i'm busy squealing, it scuttles for cover under the stove. I run to the computer (like a lame-ass) and try to find someone online that will give me moral support. A few minutes of panicked typing later, i look over my shoulder and realize, horrified, that it has somehow migrated to my living room wall. (Considering my living room and kitchen are basically the same thing, this was pretty much inevitable).
I start to shake. And breathe a little too loud. I scurry to the bookshelf and pick up my boyfriend's first year econ textbook. I hold it out in front of me with two hands, trying to find courage for the squish. I take a step. The bug doesn't move. I take another step. It still doesn't move. I shut my eyes tight, make a loud, girly 'ehnnnnnnnnnn' sound and literally RUN towards it.
squuiiiishhhhh.
Bug blood is dripping down the textbook. Left behind on the wall is an exactly imprint of the creepy crawly. But even grosser. All its legs bent in different directions.
Then it starts. I whimper. I flail. I squeal. I stomp my feet. I am having a genuine ANTM cycle 3 Eva-posing-with-tarantula- FREAK OUT. I always thought those girls were overreacting. But now...I understand.
I did manage to regain composure. I drank the wine, which helped. And the carcass is now in the bottom of my garbage can wrapped up in paper towel. But! I have not yet cleaned up the blood from the wall, or the textbook.
I need to keep my guard up. It might have babies.
EDIT: The bug was a house centipede
But last night...I met the bug to end all of the bugs. And it was slightly less than chill.
So. Imagine. I have just got off work and walked in the door. It is nearing 1am. I put on an episode of The Girls Next Door and go to the kitchen to pour a glass of Yellow Jersey sauvignon blanc (which by the way, is the best wine evar). All is well, life is good, etc. As I am pouring, I catch a glimpse of something dark scuttling across the kitchen floor. My first reaction is to second guess--no, that can't possibly be anything alive coming for my bare fee..eeeeeet!!!
But it was. It was maybe 3 inches long. 1/2 inch wide. Dark brown. With a BILLION long spindly legs. Like imagine a hot dog spontaneously grows about 30 long skinny legs. That's what this thing looked like. I have never seen anything like it in my life. Its grossness rivaled any bug that my Creepy Crawlers machine ever made.
While i'm busy squealing, it scuttles for cover under the stove. I run to the computer (like a lame-ass) and try to find someone online that will give me moral support. A few minutes of panicked typing later, i look over my shoulder and realize, horrified, that it has somehow migrated to my living room wall. (Considering my living room and kitchen are basically the same thing, this was pretty much inevitable).
I start to shake. And breathe a little too loud. I scurry to the bookshelf and pick up my boyfriend's first year econ textbook. I hold it out in front of me with two hands, trying to find courage for the squish. I take a step. The bug doesn't move. I take another step. It still doesn't move. I shut my eyes tight, make a loud, girly 'ehnnnnnnnnnn' sound and literally RUN towards it.
squuiiiishhhhh.
Bug blood is dripping down the textbook. Left behind on the wall is an exactly imprint of the creepy crawly. But even grosser. All its legs bent in different directions.
Then it starts. I whimper. I flail. I squeal. I stomp my feet. I am having a genuine ANTM cycle 3 Eva-posing-with-tarantula- FREAK OUT. I always thought those girls were overreacting. But now...I understand.
I did manage to regain composure. I drank the wine, which helped. And the carcass is now in the bottom of my garbage can wrapped up in paper towel. But! I have not yet cleaned up the blood from the wall, or the textbook.
I need to keep my guard up. It might have babies.
EDIT: The bug was a house centipede
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Rant: Books and Jobs.
Ladies and Gentlemen! Drumroooolllll Please! *brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt*
Tomorrow, I have an interview with Chapters.
This *should* be good news for a English major with way too much free time.
Let's ask Pre-Second Year Me what she thinks about this:
Us: Hey Pre-Second Year Me, what would you say if i told you you had an interview at Chapters tomorrow?
Pre-SY Me: OMG *SQUEEEE* I AM SO IN LOVE WITH LITERATURE IT IS ALMOST PAINFUL!!!!1!!1!!!
Right. So. Great!
But actually, I lied. Because it is really Post-Second Year Me who will be interviewed by the Chapters. And this is how she currently feels about literature.....
*crickets*
I feel like crickets about literature.
The realization came as soon as finals exams finished. I had a whole bookcase full of options...but the only things i wanted to read were webcomics and lolcats. Last summer break i immediately regimented a book-a-week diet, but this summer I felt exhausted just thinking about reading.
THEN, when i FINALLY caved and started re-reading the Harry Potter series as a refresher for DH, I found myself shuddering at Jo's sentence structure.
Let's be honest, now. I got a 70 in Expository Writing. I split my infinitives on a regular basis. And I'm totally chill with that. So what the eff?
So, if you're keeping track, my tuition money has:
1. dampened my passion for literature in general
2. phased my unconditional love of Harry Potter
AND
3. rewarded me with mediocre writing skills
Also:
I have decided the only way to get good marks in English is to a) be a total kiss ass, b) be lucky *mumbles* or, c) care about the material and work really hard *mumble grumbulus*
And:
Don't even get me STARTED on the PAINFULNESS of the job hunt process. Should I play the smart, confident angle? The dumb, cute girl angle? Or the relatively mediocre and non-threatening angle? Do they want a yes-man doormaticus, or an inventive individualus?
It is...all too much.
Wish me luck?
Tomorrow, I have an interview with Chapters.
This *should* be good news for a English major with way too much free time.
Let's ask Pre-Second Year Me what she thinks about this:
Us: Hey Pre-Second Year Me, what would you say if i told you you had an interview at Chapters tomorrow?
Pre-SY Me: OMG *SQUEEEE* I AM SO IN LOVE WITH LITERATURE IT IS ALMOST PAINFUL!!!!1!!1!!!
Right. So. Great!
But actually, I lied. Because it is really Post-Second Year Me who will be interviewed by the Chapters. And this is how she currently feels about literature.....
*crickets*
I feel like crickets about literature.
The realization came as soon as finals exams finished. I had a whole bookcase full of options...but the only things i wanted to read were webcomics and lolcats. Last summer break i immediately regimented a book-a-week diet, but this summer I felt exhausted just thinking about reading.
THEN, when i FINALLY caved and started re-reading the Harry Potter series as a refresher for DH, I found myself shuddering at Jo's sentence structure.
Let's be honest, now. I got a 70 in Expository Writing. I split my infinitives on a regular basis. And I'm totally chill with that. So what the eff?
So, if you're keeping track, my tuition money has:
1. dampened my passion for literature in general
2. phased my unconditional love of Harry Potter
AND
3. rewarded me with mediocre writing skills
Also:
I have decided the only way to get good marks in English is to a) be a total kiss ass, b) be lucky *mumbles* or, c) care about the material and work really hard *mumble grumbulus*
And:
Don't even get me STARTED on the PAINFULNESS of the job hunt process. Should I play the smart, confident angle? The dumb, cute girl angle? Or the relatively mediocre and non-threatening angle? Do they want a yes-man doormaticus, or an inventive individualus?
It is...all too much.
Wish me luck?
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Dear Internets,
It's been awhile. We haven't spoken since melo. The year was 2003. I was an aspiring pin up girl with a septum ring. You were pretty much the same except i don't think facebook existed yet. That would have been a good spot for parallelism, but i'm lazy. Two years of university english allows me to recognize my grammar mistakes, but it doesn't necessarily motivate me to write better.
So, yeah, basically-- i'm back. Now, with less angst and more biting wit. I mean, sarcasm. I probably won't contribute anything of value to your tubes. Buffy fanfic deserves your space more than i do. Mostly i thought i'd say hi because this guy i happen to know think i need a hobby. And blogging is a good hobby because you can do it eating chips and wearing nothing. that time i made a parallel.
So, yeah, basically-- i'm back. Now, with less angst and more biting wit. I mean, sarcasm. I probably won't contribute anything of value to your tubes. Buffy fanfic deserves your space more than i do. Mostly i thought i'd say hi because this guy i happen to know think i need a hobby. And blogging is a good hobby because you can do it eating chips and wearing nothing. that time i made a parallel.
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