Oh No He Di’int
Tonight I watched the season finale of The Bachelor, the show that loves to promise “The most dramatic [rose ceremony] [finale] [commercial break] ever!” and rarely delivers. But this time they got me when the bachelor ended up ditching BOTH women in the end. Frankly, I thought it should have been the other way around. The guy is good looking with a killer body and a fat wallet but he has less personality than a booger. And that monotone voice of his would put me in a coma on the first date. In fact, the last few bachelors have been disappointing and when they’re the best a team of casting directors scouring the nation can find, what hope do I have?
I’ve always thought there was something screwed up about the guys who proposed in the end considering they were macking on other chicks just a couple nights before. But there’s something even more screwed up about a guy that declares a woman has every quality he could possibly want in a wife then he dumps her. Perhaps DeAnna just didn’t have that elusive je ne sais penis that so many men are looking for these days.
Luckily I watched the episode in time to learn that a follow-up episode was airing tonight, which I caught as well. Clearly the two women have completely given up as they both appeared in shapeless sack dresses. That’s not the way to rub a guy’s nose in the fact that he screwed up. The way you rub someone’s nose in something is to utter a phrase like host Chris Harrison did when he said to Jenni, “You took a huge leap of faith when you said you loved him and he rejected you” to which she responded matter-of-factly, “Yeah, I know that.” It could only have been better if she’d said, “No duh, you prick.”
I will give bachelor Brad a little credit for being brave enough to appear before an audience full of angry women and it took real balls for him to proclaim that he was as hurt as anybody by what happened. He should probably thank the top notch security at ABC studios that he didn’t end up with a shiv in his throat or a compact to the noggin after that comment. I wonder if you have to go to Mexico to get that kind of clueless pill or if Jessica Simpson has her signature line available on QVC?
In the end, two great girls were left miserable by a lousy dude. Twenty bucks says he’ll be the one to fall in love first.
Coincidence?
The “2 Girls 1 Cup” video makes the rounds then Mr. Whipple dies. That’s what happens when 2 girls squeeze the Charmin.
2 Girls, 1 Cup Of Vomit In My Throat
The latest viral making the rounds is the “2 Girls 1 Cup” video (AKA “Cup Chicks”). It is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life, so bad that I could only watch glimpses of it (and considering I managed to watch the “Girl Blowing A Donkey” video in its entirety, that’s pretty bad).
What’s fun about this video is that people record their friends’ (or their own) reaction to seeing it for the first time and put it up on YouTube. I’ve just spent the last hour watching these reactions and they’re always hilarious. It’s like this enormous prank being pulled around the world and thanks to cyberspace, we all get to be in on it.
If you haven’t seen the video I’ll tell you where you can BUT FIRST… be advised this is awful stuff. Really. But the reactions are quite varied so if/when you decide to watch the video for yourself, try to tape it (and send it to me)!
Before watching the video yourself, check out a few of the reactions first:
I love how all the guys nod in approval at first then their expressions quickly change. My reaction was exactly like this dude’s.
Think you know what’s on the video? Trust me, you can’t even imagine it. Are you ready to see it for yourself? Got your camera ready? Seriously, get it on tape. Go to 2girls1cup.com. Enjoy and be sure to tell me if it has a happy ending because I couldn’t watch it all.
(Some more good reactions on MySpace: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5)
Tick Talk
I think I’ve mentioned here before that I never know when the clocks change since most of the clocks I use do so automatically (cell phone, computer). Sometimes several days have passed without me realizing the time has changed then I’ll glance at the clock in my car and have a moment of panic in which I think I’m either really late or really early. This year I actually remembered the change was coming and that it’s always before Halloween so I was waiting for it. Two Sundays ago when 2 am passed nothing happened so I figured last Sunday must have been the date. That passed again with no clock changes so I had to do a little Googling and learned that George Bush changed the dates for Daylight Saving Time so that starting this year it ends tonight. It’s pretty pathetic that extending DST past Halloween is probably the smartest move of his entire administration.
Anyway, in case there are any other losers out there who never get the memo on the clock changes, here it is for you.
Holidaze
Back in my prime, I celebrated ALL the drinking holidays such as Fourth of July, St. Patrick’s Day, Cinco de Mayo, Tuesday. As I got older I realized that I rarely have fun on the big nights. The clubs and streets are crowded and the people seem to think it’s a license to be particularly annoying. The worst holiday of all is New Year’s Eve, when establishments prey upon people’s high hopes for starting the new year with a bang in order to charge five times their usual prices. It’s almost always a disappointment. I’ve found that the best times are usually the ones that sort of happen by accident when good friends and too much alcohol happen to converge. The kind that end with a fall from a high speed shopping cart into a ditch (I should probably be embarrassed to admit that was just a few years ago. Road comics + crappy town + Jaeger shots= carting under the influence). So a while back I gave up on celebrating the party holidays- all except Halloween. You practically have to go out of your way to not enjoy Halloween. I mean, how can you be bored when having a conversation with Austin Powers and Sponge Bob No Pants?
For me, the great fun in Halloween is in creating a costume. Sure, they’re not designed as well as the ones I could buy but at least I always know nobody will be wearing the exact same costume. When choosing a character I usually try to work with what I’ve already got, such as my height and a fabulous pair of 4″ stilettos I couldn’t wear any other day of the year to be the Statue of Liberty. That was back when I was 5’10″ but now that I’ve shrunk 3/4″, I’d probably have to be France’s smaller version of it. As hard as it may be to believe, I actually sewed the dress and crown myself. Sewing is the only old-fashioned domestic duty I’m capable of. I can’t do a decent ironing job to save my life but I can sew.
I estimate that 60% of all female costumes include the word “slutty” in them: slutty nurse, slutty maid, slutty Little Red Riding Hood. On the night when we get to live out our fantasies in public we all just want to be big whores. I’ve done it myself with my slutty Mona Lisa working Sunset Boulevard. FYI, a half-smile does not a good hooker make.
Of the 40% of costumes that don’t include the word “slutty,” about half don’t do so because the outfit is inherently slutty looking: cheerleader, belly dancer, Paris Hilton. I’ve gone this route several times. Here’s one in which I dressed as a hula dancer in just a bikini top and grass skirt.
Another time I straightened my hair and used a temporary black dye job to be Elvira. Unfortunately my curly hair fell victim to Hawaii’s humidity and the look didn’t quite work. These are my two scariest Halloween pictures due to the fact that apparently I hadn’t been properly introduced to a pair of tweezers.
The next year I used the dye again to be Wonder Woman only this time, it never washed out. I rather liked myself with black hair, though one time a cab driver picked me up and when I entered he was snickering. I asked why and he said that because I was dressed all in black and I was bent over petting my black cat, I looked like a witch. Since it wasn’t Halloween, I’m pretty sure that cost him part of his tip.
That leaves about 20% of all female costumes that aren’t slutty. Those are the ones women wear to their workplace or they’re the ones designed to win costume contests. I’ve done both. One year I was waitressing at the Cat and Fiddle- a large, popular English restaurant/pub- and we had to dress according to the theme, which was “Goblins, fairies and creatures of the forest.” Pretty lame. I dressed as a fairy- namely our English chef John who was a major flamer. I walked around all night speaking with a British accent, hitting on all the lads, calling the other waitresses “saucy cows” and sipping wine- just like John. I think it was shortly thereafter that I got fired.
The costume I won a contest with was a cavewoman riding a dinosaur. The weirdest thing about this costume is that I happened to have the inflatable dinosaur lying around the house, though I have no idea why. Impulse buy perhaps. It was a fun costume but it was a bitch to move around in and I had to sit sideways.
Unfortunately, this year I didn’t plan ahead and had to recycle my Mona Lisa (a slightly more conservative version of it) but I just decided what I’m going to do next year: I’m going to use my freckles to be Lindsay Lohan’s future “E! True Hollywood Story.” I’ll design a box to look like a tv set that I’ll put around my face. Then I’ll have different sheets of paper over it depicting various events in her life, from her start as a fresh-faced young star through to her later career as a Hooter’s waitress who can’t even get a spot on “The Surreal Life.” That’s what I’ll be if I get my act together early enough to make the costume. Otherwise I’ll probably be a slutty Statue of Liberty.
