Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Welp... That Sucked...

January 23rd has just replaced New Years Eve as the feast day of all buzzkills.

Everyone knows what it's like to wake up on New Year’s Eve morning, spend the day primping and priming for what’s sure to be the best night of your life. You scenario yourself right before midnight happily buzzed and enchantingly flirting with that guy you didn’t have the balls to talk to sober. Welp, reality strikes and instead of getting your DFMO on with hottiepants as the clock strikes 12, you’re holding back your girlfriend’s pukey hair in the bathroom making a mental list of every hors d'oeuvres she b-lined for that night. Buzz. Kill. That’s how I felt on Sunday.

To answer the question that's probably circling your silly little brain, no... I'm not at all referring to the Jets loss to that far-better-and-stronger team. (Shocking realization insert here: No one cares about the Jets and green is an ugly color). I’m actually referring to the season premiere of Kourtney and Kim take New York on E! And no… I’m not being dramatic; it actually was that bad.

Similar to the vigor one would express on New Year’s Eve, I jumped in the car and floored it back to FSQ to make it there one hour before the premiere. This would give me the time to shower, adequately moisturize, throw on some PJs and stake a claim on the best part of the couch. “Mom! You’re gonna LOVE this show!” I told her. Ten minutes in to the show I cowered into a ball with my tail between my legs---I was wrong. The amount the show blew was no doubt comparable to amount of lines Scott Disick blows on a daily basis.

Why did it blow, you ask? The answer is simple: Kardashians – Khloe – Mason + Kim*1000 = a recipe for disaster. No wonder Kim hasn’t had her own spinoff until now; she has the personality of a damp bathing suit—uncomfortable, cold, and the cause of so many UTIs.

You know that Khloe is sitting in her giant house with her big chocolate man candy smiling her ass off that America finally sees she’s the real star of the show. And poor, Kourtney—my favorite! It’s clear that she wants to live with Kim in a NYC apartment just as much as she would like to have each one of her pubes tweezed (wait… I take it back… she’d love that).

What’s really missing here is the little Mason cake. That baby is so freaking cute he could have made Meet The Fockers enjoyable. Instead, we’ve been graced with Kanye West, who when introduced to a sales associate so gracefully replied “I think she knows who I am.” DOUCHEMONKEY!

If this show doesn’t get better fast, I’m approaching E! with the concept of “Mason takes Manhattan.” I’ll be his nanny and we’ll go to adorbs adventures like baby-likes-disco and feeding ducks in central park. A guaranteed hit for sure!

Tanti Auguri a me

I haven't heard better news since Angelina moved out of the house. I haven't been more excited since JWow lit my cigarette and told her manager to "get that bitch away from me." I haven't been to Italy in 4 years and it's finally time to go back.

You heard it hear, folks! THR just reported that the dirty jerz it heading to Italia!!! With that said, I have a few words of wisdom for the gang based on the time I spent in Roma:

1. When you get drunk, it's natural to want to jump in a fountain. Do it... but be sure you can run.
2. Vespa rides from strangers are totally acceptable... so long as you remember where you're going (Sorry, Snooks. Maybe you should stay back).
3. Dance offs are encouraged and highly celebrated. I once danced off a pantless stripper in Art Cafe. Snooki... you better practice your backflips.
4. Drink orange juice whenever you can get your hands on it. Drink wine more than that (preferable in the form of juiceboxes)
5. Please don't ask the Pope to "beat the beat"

Ciao, Ragazzi!!!! <--- Click through

Sof's Guide to Spotting and Ruining the Attention Whore

They're everywhere: Crying in bars... making a scene in the workplace... getting knocked up by male friends when clearly out of the closet as a lesbian. They'll announce their pregnancy when you announce your engagement; they'll be the surprise at your surprise party; Hell, they'll even die before you (and with a better funeral, of course).

This is why I'm going to help you spot and destroy the attention whore before her wildly obscene beer tears drown your boyfriend into a public affair. To help me in this task, I've employed the women of Seattle Grace Hospital. I give you exhibit A:

Name: Dr. Calliope "Callie" Torres
Occupation: Attending Orthopedic Surgeon
Relationship Status: It's complicated
Sexual Orientation: Gay of the lesbian variety (or so she says)
Why Callie is an Attention Whore: Recently, Callie announced her pregnancy to her "ex" girlfriend, Arizona. While this is typically news people would be "over the moon about" (ugh, I hate that expression), knowing that the love child is the product of an extra-relational tryst with her sex buddy of yesteryear must have had Arizona barbecuing from the inside out. It's quite clear that Steamy has put a dark cloud over Callie and Arizona's relationship; primarily because, well, Callie wants to bone his brains out 24/7. If we can all take a look back to the days of Dr. Erica Hahn (yes I know that's painful), we'd all recall that the first tounge slip to the other side was result of Steamy's fantastical urging. Pretending to be a lesbian to get a hot guys attention? Classic attention whore. On to exhibit B...

Name: Dr. Teddy Altman
Occupation: Head of Cardiothoracic Surgery
Relationship Status: Married... technically
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Why Teddy is an Attention Whore: It's clear to everyone in America that Dr. Teddy (yeah... that name would make me comfortable if saw it assigned to my heart surgery) has daily desert fantasies of her and Dr. Hunt saving lives and rolling around in sand together. Sure must have sucked for her when Hunt got MARRIED. Boo hoo... What ever is an attention whore to do?! I know... also GET MARRIED. But, in true AW form, our friend Teddy didn't only get hitched... she married a patient she met for 5 minutes. Moving on...

Name: Dr. Christina Yang
Occupation: Medical Resident
Relationship Status: Married
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Why Christina is an Attention Whore: This whole "I'm ok... I'm NOT ok... I'm ok... I'm NOT ok" game is getting old. Funny how Christina can miraculously kick surgery ass in the OR again RIGHT in time for the race for Chief Resident. All too convenient for me. She wanted to come back in the spotlight tenfold... riding up in an ambulance, saving the life of a mass murderer. Yeah... THAT's not dramatic. She's an attention whore with a motive (beware of those, for sure).

Now that we've learned to recognize the attention whores, we need to learn how to tame them. What better way than to learn from the example set by television's most drastically reformed Attention Whore, Meredith Grey:
In just a few short seasons, Meredith went from sleeping with her BFF and fake-dying to getting married on a post-it. Now that's growth. Instead of being the subject of everyone's concern, she's the one offering up advice and telling young AWs to snap out of it. What's the lesson here? Marry a sexy, powerful doctor, dodge a bullet, and concentrate on what really matters in life. Here here, Meredith!

Saturday, January 8, 2011

"I Will Attack You Like A F#*$&N Squirrel Monkey"

I can always count on my girl Snooki to broaden the limits of my knowledge base. Even on the very first episode of the JS's 3rd season (the highest rated show ever accoding to the FB status of Michael "The Situation" Sorrentino. Don't judge me), Snooks taught me that looking like a hooker is awesome, you never grow out of stuffed animals, and most importantly, that squirrel monkeys are a ferocious band of beasts that should never be messed with no matter what their size might be.

This prompted me, as always, to learn more about this scrappy, Napoleon-esque creature. Please allow me to share:

Squirrel Monkey, from the Latin: Saimiri Gorilla Juiceheadeum, is native to the shore areas of central Jersey, seasonally thriving in the area known as Seaside (but if you were to ask Sammmi she'd just say "Ugh. (Pause. Eye Roll.) Jersaay").

The female squirrel monkey is the most interesting of the species. She requires an excess of Vitamin D to be accepted by the squirrel monkey community. She feeds upon cherry vodka, pickles, and whatever Gorilla juice-head sauseeege she can get her hands on. Otherwise mistaken for a "meatball," a female squirrel monkey cannot go two months without having sex or she will involuntarily show her cooch to the first male she sees.

The male squirrel monkey is also very sexual and is often forced to "stick it in one of the jetholes." Perferred mating ritual of the male squirrel monkey is to prepare with GTL (a practice similar to peacocking) and seek out non-grenades to intoxicate and bring back to the mating nest, otherwise known as the hottub. The male squirrel monkey's diet consists of burgers for the boys, protein shakes, and lady squirrel monkey.

The squirrel monkey, while often large, is not the most intellegent of primates. Shunned by most other species, the squirrel monkies band together to "beat the beat," a ritual believed to repel the more intellegent animalia.

Well... I hope this was as intellectually stimulating for you as it was for me. Until next time...