It's my birthday!

Happy birthday TAH ME.


(Yes. I'm 22 and old balls. Get over it.)

No really you look incredible.

I know you offer peppermint patties on the towel, cold minty face cloths, and eight channels of music to listen to. But shame on you, City Sun, for charging me $20 to get a mediocre tan that makes me look like this:


I'll see you tomorrow. Naturally.

VH1, you do not disappoint.

The season finale of Rock of Love 2 aired last night, and boy am I glad I did not have money riding on that shizz! In the surprise of the century, Bret picked the most NORMAL girl in the competition, Ambre (who, to quote Daisy, is "like 80 years old and so boring"), and let Lil Mis Lips-n-Tits know that her tour ended there in Cancun. Unfortunately, in my opinion, this charming little piece of croissant didn't put enough la resistance up to stick it out till le fin. Oh well, c'est la vie. The best part of the episode? Bret's suavely classy choice of last words: "Now let's go have hot monkey sex." Wow Bret; be still my beating heart.

Not to assume that this outcome is the product of any real "feelings" or "relationship growth," but I can at least rejoice in the mere semblance of good decision making on Bret's part. I'm proud that he chose someone not only close to his own age (Bret, contrary to your paranoia, you aint foolin anyone into thinking you're 29, though I understand how mounting ultraviolet guitars on your wall and riding hogs around your living room can be deceiving), but also someone whose already-obnoxious valley girl accent, poor vocabulary, and sub-par inarticulate speaking skills are not smothered by the gargantuan amount of collagen in her face. Daisy does not look her own age; she looks like a 58-year-old TRYING to look her own age. Gugh. Just so glad that gal is out the door. I cannot WAIT for the reunion show.





SEE YA, HO! --->










Unfortunately I didn't have the wherewithal to stick around for Viva Hollywood, nor do I anticipate holding any interest in that show - NO GRACIAS, SENOR. But I did visit VH1's site to see if there were any deleted scenes from ROL2 of my favorite skanky skank skankishly skanking things up. There, I discovered under the "VH1 Classic" section the glorious and sacred cache of Pop-Up videos. I thought that stuff was lost and gone forever with the rest of the flannel and polyester 90s. Needless to say, I spent about 4,329 hours watching some of the videos VH1 had posted (there are roughly 80 for your viewing pah-leasure in two separate links). Something about them made me so nostalgic for the days of Limited Too, awkward middle school dances, body glitter and shitty lip gloss, and writing three different letters to Leoanardo DiCaprio but then not sending them because I was a pussy. It reminded me of when VH1 had a little bit of integrity, even though it catered to the likes of vanilla middle-aged yuppies, like when it aired stuff like VH1 Storytellers, Behind the Music, the VH1 and Vogue Fashion Awards, and even those crappy Diva concerts. I still watched it, bland as it was (not bland but totally fucking rad = Pop-Up Video). But I must say now more than ever, VH1, I really appreciate that you've degraded yourself to the baser interests of human devolution.

CFS, No. 2

Ohhhhh look at the baby and his fucked up little ears!!!!!!!!!

He's so cute I just cried lemondrops.

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

What I do when I'm at work

A couple of years ago I stumbled onto one of the most clever art duos I've ever come across. My favorite of their series is linked in the little "Talk about this at parties" section of my blog, and they are husband-and-wife team Drew and Natalie Dee. Aside from their respective webcomics, they also team up on stuff like Married to the Sea. Drew and Natalie create awesome little epithets from vintage designs, crude drawings, and little videos and blogs about their life in Columbus, Ohio with their pugs Charles and Chester. Hopefully when I grow up, my spirit will remain the same marriage of biting cynicism and endearing humor that these two seem to maintain. Here is one of my favorite additions from Drew's site Where are the Dogs Humping:

Somebody's got a case of the MONDAYS.

It's meeee! Here is what I want to declare to the world aujourd'hui:

1. I cleaned my apartment last night! I didn't really pick up my room, but I did scour the kitchen, hallway, and bathroom so that these suckers never make another undeclared appearance. My kitchen and bathroom smell like cleaning solution and I loves it! Also, my feet squeak when I walk on the hardwood floors (whereas previously the soles would collect their own dust mite/crumb/wrapper sock if I went barefoot). But for srlsy, I'm so proud of myself! And everything is easier to do with The Real Housewives of NYC playing in the background!
   
2. This morning I had a glass of orange juice with some biotin in it, so my hair would FRIGGIN START GROWIN ALREADY (I'm balding, yall). I was like, cool, I've had about 80 calories so far - sufficient breakfast. But "making good" on my last post, while walking to work this morning, I decided it would be a really healthy idea to stop in at Cosi and pick up a grande "Arctic Mocha," which screams its caloric evil every time it slips down my throat. Not kidding, yall. This shit tastes like a nine-year-old invented it by mixing shaved ice and Hershey's chocolate syrup. It leaves this sweet, slippery film on your lips every time you take a sip.
3. When I paid for my chocolate aneurysm with a $20 bill, I got three $5 bills back (yeah, apparently Cosi thinks that gradual fatal installments of mocha cost $4.50 a pop). And holy maloly! Look at the new $5 bill! WHAT THE FAHK? It looks like a Parsons graphic arts student collaborated with the Count on Sesame Street to create this. Not to say that I'm not highly pleased with this tender, but it does kind of look like when you turn it over, the Mint seems to be telling us "this note has been brought to you by the NUMBER FIVE!"

(By the way, I was going to hyperlink to the Cosi Arctic Mocha, but when I found the sight and the nutrition facts popped up, I automatically closed the window and chucked the last quarter of the drink in the trash. Let's just say that I have just consumed at least a third of my daily calorie intake today.)

Looking forward to May, when I'll be 189 pounds and reading People with a cigarette!

These are my goals for the month of April:

1. Find a full-time job. Or at least immerse myself very much into the search so I'm not eating cookie dough and living under flight paths and break dancing in the Times Square subway station for dollas this summer.
2. Quit smoking. I think by at least the time finals are over I'll be nico-free!
3. Stop wearing outfits two days in a row because I'm too lazy to go back to Brooklyn for a night.
4. Lose five pounds. I really need to lose, like, 15-20, but I'm going to be real about this. I aint running 8 miles a day, peeps.
   
5. Corollary: persuade myself that sesame seed bagels toasted with 2 pounds of cream cheese, washed down with a 300-calorie Jamba Juice, does not a healthy breakfast make.
6. Start reading more. And start reading items that are published seasonally, not every seven days (aka put down the Us Weekly).
7. Do my homework. Like, when it's due instead of three weeks later.
8. Clean my FECKING APARTMENT.
9. Hunt for lost treasure.
10. Convince my mom that "twat" is a much funnier word than it is offensive. You know, kind of like "addiction."
1. On those heels, sell society on the idea that the term "doing it" is so much more hilarious than "having sex."
   

CFS, No. 1

I've decided that when I've neglected my blog for too long, and I don't know what to write about, and ESPECIALLY when I'm doing homework, I'm just going to post pictures of CUTE.FUCKING.SHIT. I'll just post pictures that are going to make you ooh and awe so much you're going to be burping butterflies. So, here, as the début of the Cute Fucking Shit Series, I give you a Cute Fucking Little White Puppy:




ADOWABLE!