Tuesday, December 13th, 2011
I’m not a sports girl. I’m not that “guy’s girl” who loves to talk about sports (and, in my experience, talk about how she loves to talk about sports and only have guys as friends. FYI, “guy’s girls” out there, all those “pals” of yours are just trying to get in your pants and don’t give a shit what you think about the BCS play-off system. And for the record, I don’t even know what the BCS play-off system is, I had to google “debates in sports” just to write something there.) I have female friends and we like to talk about things like “Camille’s BFF on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has a lesbian crush on her,” “how many calories are in gin?” and “do you think I can pull off hammer pants?” So I barely even recognized myself when I uttered these words to my fiance yesterday: “hey, did you hear Lamar Odom was traded to the Mavericks?”
That’s right, get your sports gossip here folks. Lamar is going to Dallas, which means Khloe is going with him, which then implies that Khloe & Lamar Take Texas is already on the 2013 schedule on E!… and I. Can’t. Wait.
Khloe is the koolest member of the klan. She’s funny and she doesn’t wake up wearing fake eyelashes and a full face of make-up (ah hem, Kim). And I’m willing to bet that if she and I ever hung out, she’d indulge me in conversations about Camille, gin and hammer pants.
Tuesday, March 8th, 2011
Donald Trump is considering running for president. I’ll be honest, I spend much more of my day thinking about reality TV than I do pondering politics or world events. I mean, I get the general gist of what’s going on in the world (Gadaffi = bad; people in Wisconsin = really upset) but on the other hand, I could give you about a dozen specific instances when Camille Grammer lost her cool on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, as well as the ramifications of those outbursts, who they affected, what caused them, and what the follow-on consequences will likely be. Because my interests lean more towards the ridiculous than the significant, my concerns regarding the possible Trump presidency follow suit: I DON’T WANT DONALD TRUMP TO BE PRESIDENT BECAUSE I LOVE CELEBRITY APPRENTICE. There. I said it. The President of the United States certainly can’t take time out of his busy schedule to host a silly little crazily addictive and surprisingly “feel good” but at the same time mega backstabbyish show. (Or can he? Appoint a Secretary of Celebrity Apprentice? Maybe a Celebrity Apprentice Czar? It could work…)
My personally feelings aside, I just don’t think POTUS is the job for The Donald. His “go to” move is the ol’ “YOU’RE FIRED!” You ever hear of a Federal employee getting fired? No. Didn’t think so. Because it never happens. My mailman delivers mail like every 3rd day and half of it is addressed to someone named Regine Consuelos but he’ll probably be not giving a shit about his job until the ripe old age of 65 when he can call it a day and bask in the glory of Federal pension, because no one gets canned by the USPS! Not even with Trump in charge.
Friday, March 4th, 2011
Courtney Love was crazy tweeting back when Charlie Sheen did nothing more on a daily basis than wear questionable shirts and recite shitty jokes on CBS. In 2009 Courtney was doing it all, a real smorgasbord of inappropriate twitter use: profane rants, nonsensical ramblings, telling off her lawyer, even posting some semi-naked pics that I will forever regret having subjected my eyeballs to. Her piece de resistance was a string of 140 character tirades lashing out against fashion designer Dawn Simorangkir in which, among other things, Love accused her of having a criminal record. Turns out Damn Simorangkir does not have a criminal record and decided to sue Courtney for libel. Rather than go to court, Courtney settled the case today for $430,000
Ummmmmmm… so this means you can’t post lies on twitter? Those bitches from The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills better ix-nay on the eeting-tway about how much they love and support each other. And I should probably stop all those tweets where I pretend I’m at the gym to make people think I do something other than watch reality TV and google myself all day.