Tag Archives: MTV

Pish posh

It’s Monday at 11:30pm and I just invented beer bongs for Barbie’s, then bonged a beer out of it myself.

Has anyone been keeping up on that MTV show, I Used to be Fat? No? Well, I have! And it’s amazing.  I don’t have anything against fat people, I’ll probably be one someday.  But the people on it make me want to punch them sometimes.  I’m not going to go all, ohhh what the fuck do they expect when they sit around eating cheeseburgers and tootsie rolls all day? Because I sit around and eat cheeseburgers and tootsie rolls all day.  They piss me off because when they sign up for the show they know some ex-army lieutenant is going to be training them and he is going to kick their ass and when he does they whine about it.

This past week Marci used to be fat.  In the beginning we hear Marci’s sob story about how she gets made fun of and can’t shop at regular stores because she’s fat.  Then we meet her trainer Justin, an ex-military hoorah guy.

Day 1 Justin makes Marci want to kill herself.  She threatens to puke on the treadmill if he doesn’t give her a break, so he does and she goes and lies down on the nasty gym bathroom floor.  Justin goes all daddy on her and says, “Don’t make me tell you to get up off of that floor again.  If I have to, I’m leaving and you can stay FAT!” Way to put it plain and simple J-Bone.  Knock her self esteem down 1 last time before she shreds all those pounds.

The next day Justin set up a boot camp outside for Marci, and for about 5 seconds, she sounded like my 6 year old sister, “I don’t want to be outside! I promise if we go inside I won’t complain.  Wahhhhh!!” And Justin had to go into daddy mode on her again, “Well sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to in life.” So Marci whined a while longer but made it through day 2 of boot camp.

Marci had 89 days to lose 90 pounds and she did it, so great for her.  She got some dresses, one that was pretty skank-a-lish and almost showed her coooookaaa (Jersey Shore term for you.) After her final weigh in, Justin tells her how proud he is and how he never thought she could do it because the first day he walked in and she was “sitting in her bed with food all around her looking fat and disgusting.”  This guy really knows how to sugar coat it.  And all is right with the world because Marci is skinny and Justin got a 3 month long power trip.

Anyway, it’s 2 days until the big move and I’m no closer to having a home and no closer to being packed.  At all.  Does anyone want to come be my roommate? I’ve tried convincing Lucky but I don’t think she is taking me seriously.   I’m starting to get a little more nervous about it all.  Pretty much none of my friends are that excited that I’m moving to the city.  They’re all, “Ohh yeah lets get some dinner and drinks next week.”  So chances are I’m going to be sitting in my bed alone every weekend (just like I do now) writing blogs about guys I wish I was getting (Neal Bledsoe.)  WHICH BY THE WAY, I have a way better chance of getting now that I am moving to the city.  Not that he’ll ever be in my city, but it’s a big one and the chances are better.  I’ll have to keep up on my Neal Bledsoe creepy so I know if he’s ever in town.  God, I’m such a stalker.  It would be totally acceptable if he were a real celebrity.  But he’s not, so I fully expect a restraining order.

Anyway, my work friends threw me a going away party on Friday and I nearly cried, no one has ever thrown me a party.  I haven’t had a birthday party since I was 10 years old.  They had a cake, a picture of the cake I was supposed to get with penguins on it but I didn’t get it because the guy that was supposed to pick it up called in sick, a t-shirt, and people I didn’t even think cared about my well being (the salesmen) were coming in from their sales calls early to wish me good luck in the big city and give me their emails so that I could keep in touch.  Here I found all of these people that give a shit about me and now I’m leaving.  I’m pretty sad about it.  I cried, twice.

I was talking to Anth yesterday about who he hangs out with on the weekends because my ideal goal is to move to the city and have a How I Met Your Mother group of friends to hang with.  Anth could be Barney, I could be Lily (because she gets married), and then there’s still 3 openings.  But he told me he hangs out with people we went to college with.  Gross.

That was one of my main reasons for not moving to the city earlier.  It’s like SHIT U all over again.  SHIT U is about 100 miles south of the city so with each graduating class they ship bus loads of them up there.  And the last thing I want to do is relive college.

I liked college, but the few close friends I have in the city hang out with a bunch of douchers.  Douchers=frat boys and sorority whores.  I have nothing against them, but every time I go to visit and have to be in the same room as them I want to kill myself and it is NOT a good time.  They’re just pretty lame.  Doing exactly what you would expect, shooters and picking up anything with a vagina or penis.  It’s really annoying.

At this point in my life I’m really looking for some quality friends.  I need friends who want to eat food before we go out drinking.  Not purge before we go out drinking.  Spanks but no spanks.

Can we start placing bets on how long it will be before I’m back at home hanging out with my sister getting sugar drunk on chocolate milk on the weekends?  I give myself 2 months.

 

P.S. Black Swan looks scary as eff.

P.P.S.  Did everyone see Ron Ron on the Xenadrine commercial? AHHHHAHAHA AND he’s on the website:

Ron Ron also has his own website, complete with fan club.  Which we are members of.  There’s a section where you can “book” Ron Ron for an event.  I’m half tempted to see how much it is to book him to write a blog for us.  I wonder if they charge extra for making him think.  Hmm…

“My GTL routine just got even better.  XGTL baby – Xenadrine.  Gym.  Tan.  Laundry.” – Ron Ron

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Q is for the Christmas Queen…or QVC.

It’s no surprise that the holiday season has brought an even greater bitterness upon Gizzy and I. But, here it is, Christmas Eve, and I’m finally getting into the holiday spirit after many nights of drinking and watching Christmas Vacation.

Today, I wanted to acknowledge two things that have really kept me alive this Christmas season (besides the alcohol and Chevy Chase).

1. The Christmas Queen

And no, I’m not talking about Lucy. See:

Charlie Brown: There’s no time for foolishness. We’ve got to get on with our play!
Lucy: That’s right! What about my part? What about the Christmas Queen, hmm? Are you going to let all this beauty go to waste? You do think I’m beautiful, don’t you, Charlie Brown? (no response) You didn’t answer right away. You had to think about it first, didn’t you? If you really thought I was beautiful, you would have spoken right up. (storms off) I know when I’ve been insulted! I know when I’ve been insulted!
Charlie Brown: Good grief.

I’m talking about Mariah Carey. Gizzy completely disagrees. Do I love Mariah Carey? No. Do I understand why and how Mariah Carey is so popular amongst blacks? Absolutely not. Do I want to do Nick Cannon? Hell no. Do her Christmas jingles get stuck in my head to the point of no return? YES.

I would be lying if I said I never danced around my kitchen, snapping my fingers to this little ditty:

To be honest, I think I want to BE Mariah Carey (that is, if I couldn’t be Kim Zolsiak). Who doesn’t remember the episode of MTV Cribs, where we got to see her house that was effin amazing. Oh and the view she has of New York City? To die for! Then she casually mentions that on the night of her CD release, the empire state building was lighting up a special magenta to honor the event.

How’s that for funsies? Like oh yeah, the Eiffel Tower is just going to blast off L-U-C-K-Y fireworks one night to celebrate the fact that I’ve got a new zit on my chin.

Like I said, I don’t want to fuck Nick Cannon, nor carry his twin babies, but sure I’ll take her hizzie and sell a line of perfumes to every tweenie bopper in urban America. And I’ll even take the lil bout of crazy she had that afternoon she dropped by TRL—we all get a lil Wild ‘N Out from time to time (see how that works?).

2. QVC

I’ve mentioned it before that I enjoy watching QVC, but I’ve never ordered anything from it. I know, it’s really strange. But this is one of the many perks of being single (I do what I want because I’m a gangsta, Miss Katie).

I started watching QVC last Christmas season for whatever reason, there was probably nothing else on or something. And I got hooked. Then I stopped watching it for awhile, and now it’s back in full swing…I watch it all. the. time.

I love host Lisa Robertson. Former Miss Tennessee. She just seems cool. Other than that, I can’t pinpoint what it is that I like about QVC. I think it’s the fact that there’s no commercials, no drama, no one’s getting married or talking about weddings or children, everything is just perfect.

One night last week, I came home from work, ready for an evening of overpriced CZs and sequined tunics, plopped down in my chair, and saw something I’d never seen on QVC before: real emotion.

Tears of sadness.

Host Lisa Mason was apparently leaving the network, and that segment was her last. However, since I was unaware of this, I was shocked when she was simply selling a string of pearls, and then someone called in and she started crying. Like an ugly girl.

And then her coworkers wheeled out this huge ass sheet cake that said goodbye and Lisa was still crying and saying God bless you, and someone came out with roses.

Finally, she said that she was leaving to pursue other things—meaning she wrote a book about God (no, seriously she did).

But anyway, check out this homage to Lisa Robertson (not Mason) someone made:

Thankfully, I’m on a nice break from work—they let us leave at lunch on Wednesday and I don’t go back until January 3. Hells yeah. Wednesday, I was in the worst mood, I just wanted to go home and sleep. So I did, when I was rudely awakened by a call from my leasing office.

“Lucky, you have a delivery.”

Wtf? I’ve already received gifts from my family and wasn’t expecting anything else. So I got my lazy ass out of bed and went to the office. The lady said there was no package for me.

“Okay, well then why did you just call me and wake me up for this shit?”

“Oh, YOU’RE LUCKY?!?”

“In the flesh.”

“You didn’t get a package, you got FLOWERS. Sorry, I was trying to keep them on my desk and pretend they were mine.”

It wasn’t some meager collection of greenery. This was legit:

There it is on my dining table. Who in the hell got me flowers? My mom? My aunt? Ummm no…a man. A man that I’ve only met once, only been texting with, never even kissed him.

I mentioned Tuesday night that I was a little bummed I wouldn’t be around my family for the holidays. He promptly called a mutual friend, got my address, and placed the order for the flowers. He lives 5 hours away, mind you.

Needless to say, I am impressed. No one has ever done something so sweet! Especially just for nothing. Somehow, it passed Gizzy’s test (she has so many, you know).

So with that, my Christmas is a bit brighter. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be getting shit-housed tomorrow. Pass the peppermint shot glasses!

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,