I hate it when my Word documents do this. I opened stupid Microsoft Word, not realizing that the operative modifier at play would turn out to be the prefix "micro". Seriously, this shit is so small I�m about to develop exophthalmia just trying to make out what I�m typing. I probably also grossly misspelled "exophthalmia", but I�ll never know, because I CAN�T READ THE TEENSY LETTERS!
But that is neither here nor there. Allow me to take this moment to apologize for the fact that, since my return from the European Vacation That Ended Too Soon, I have not been updating with any great regularity. I try, but I�ve been a little swamped at work, and it makes it hard for me to find the time in between hand-holding and client-dealing-with and frantic-emailing and all. A pain in the ass, I tell you. But I guess it�s better than no job, if barely.
Anyway, I think I�m losing my edge, you guys. Last night? I watched Blow Out again. That in and of itself is not totally shameful, and on the surface you would think it�s exactly the kind of show that would appeal to me at my gossipy best (I mean, it�s a reality show about a bunch of bitchy hairstylists -- what�s not to love?). But then last week I suddenly and inexplicably went into that weird mode where I was frustrated and wearied by the constant vain banality visited upon us by this modernist culture of indulgence and self-promotion. I don�t know where the hell that came from, but it seems to have worn off. Not only did I watch Blow Out, but I enjoyed the hell out of it.
Of course, how could I possibly not enjoy it, when it came complete with a juicy little bit of reality TV synergy in the form of not one but two -- count them two -- appearances by non-winners from the greatest reality TV show ever, America�s Next Top Model? That�s right, folks. Not only did Mercedes Scelba-Shorte (isn�t that a German pastry?) appear in a blink-and-you�ll-miss-it clip during the Rock&Republic fashion show montage, but the loathed Catie Anderson got her hair did by the freshly fired Brandon. You guys know Brandon, right? Everybody knows a Brandon. He was too punk rock for the salon. Or so he seemed to think. I think "punk rock" has become a widely accepted synonym for "irresponsible", which is totally shameful.
Also, and this is entirely incidental to everything written above, but I am soooo full right now. There�s this huge spread downstairs in honor of Independence Day, and I�ve been eating like a little piggy. I�ve oinked my way through chips, dip, cupcakes, pancakes, eggs, toast (it�s an eclectic spread, yo), and just now, New New New Girl gave me some pork tenderloin. If I don�t get sick from the unnatural commingling of those strange, edible bedfellows, I�ll probably just bust at the seams like an overstuffed teddy bear. Only with more, like, gore and stuff, and less cotton or whatever. Seriously, though, I think the only thing I didn�t eat today is the sandwich I brought for my lunch.
Okay, anyway, I�ve been procrastinating long enough, and now I have to get back to work. Y�all hang loose.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: nerve damage from shrooms I�m Watching: The Next Action Star, and I�m so glad Viviana took her crazy ass home last time, because bitch was scary. And: Snippets of Josie and the Pussycats, which just made me sad about the squandered talents of Rosario Dawson.