Thursday, May 29, 2008

What's For Lunch?

Hugging my falafel, and running like the dickens in flip-flops, I contemplated the multi-sauced, linear smells one finds in a city like San Francisco. The overwhelming stench of expensive men's cologne immediately morphs into-only slightly more desirable-human piss then blossoms into the mouth-watering aroma of the best Chinese food in the city (I don't know if that's true, but it's really fucking good).
I turn the corner and see a strange tween-aged boy trying to break into our office building. Not knowing how to stop him, I forge on past as if it was my plan to all along. And why the hell not? It's a beautiful day, and I can wait ten more minutes to belly my sandwich.
Stumbling through the sun-drenched Market-square and back to my unburglarized office, the lunchtime ended somthing like this:
1) I realized my great desire to stomp a pigeon to death before my move from this city.
2) I realized I've not mentioned how much I enjoy the new The Black Keys album, Attack and Release! Buy it today (or beg me to burn it for you, I'm easy.)

Btw, NPR is in cahoots with PBR.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

The Bachelorette Recap #1: That Howling Guy Had Mad Back Acne

"Girly" doesn't describe me exactly. I don't buy (or have interest in reading about) fashion/fashion "mags", own/desire to own any gowns (unless my wedding dress counts), nor wear perfume nor wash my hair regularly. There are a lot of us girls out there - even ones interested in finding true love - yet none of us would ever be purchased by the ABC network to soak ourselves in champagne, "journey" rhetoric and sexist twirling to play the role of "The Bachelorette".

But so what? Leave the famewhoring to the famewhores.

The show is fucking awesome (and exceedingly maddening and boring) to watch, and super fun to discuss the inanity of with like-minded bitches. (Plus, it offers a tame topic for my regular Sunday calls to my mother.)

So for kicks (and further justification to watch the show religiously), I'm recapping the episodes for this blog. My mom (ABC's top demographic for this crap) doesn't read this blog - as she doesn't know about this blog - as this blog contains too much talk of vibrators and the liberal use of the F word, so I'm emailing me mother the recaps. Thus, as an added bonus, I'm going to post her responses here as well.

Let's start the unloading of the limos!

EPISODE 1 - That Howling Guy Had Mad Back Acne

We begin with an impossibly long intro chronicling the most blah blah season of The Bachelor in the history of TV, love, etc. DeAnna Pappas' heart was ripped from her chest and eaten by Dumb Brad Womack in front of God and the ocean, and apparently, all of us were devastated. They replay Dee's waltz up to the stage of shame in her all-too-rounding gold lame dress, and then Dumb Brad's infamous words, "I can't look you in your EYE and tell you I love you...I can't... I have to tell you goodbye". Then we get the pathetic reunion clip where she pleadingly tries to argue him back into her panty hose. Smarty that he is (I mean that), he doesn't fall for her manipulation. And that, poor people suffering all over the planet, was the WORST day of her life. Thanks to Ellen DeGeneres, here we are. (Sidebar: I can't stand it when folks say "everything happens for a reason". That's what pretty people say, instead of the more realistic characterization of heart-crushing events, "life bends you over and rams you in the back of the thigh sometimes".)

Oh my god, she is still talking about it. She believes in the show (a true sign of Hollywood sanity). THIS time she's gonna enter dysfunctional coupledom for life; kids may even be born out of her unholy TV union. And again, that Chris dip voice overs how this is the most DRAMATIC season YET and all of us are about to witness "the most amazing season premiere of The Bachelorette." Does ABC own a copyright on the word "amazing" yet?

Chris Dip welcomes us and claims thousands of dudes (most likely gay) contacted the show to say "her make-up was flawless! awww!." So they find some straight dudes (most likely working as extras) who say, "I'd do her", and here are our twenty-five contenders. We see a shaving montage - which includes chests. There's a handsome geek, a martial arts dick, a straight hair stylist (who says some crap about love finding us), a short oyster picker who has no idea what the rest of us think a "pearl necklace" is, and a spiky blond haired person whose vanity over said hair is resolutely ironic. He actually speaks to the camera about the importance of "presentation".

The one dude of the montage I do like is Jason. He's a single father, super cute, and seems to be the only one with perspective or adult qualities. This is a prediction: He's the winner. His edit even gets the sappy music and everything. His profile anchors them all, for Christ's sake.

The dudes drink and discuss vomiting in the limos, and we are brought back to Chris Dip who is clearly delusional as he offers, without a bit of sarcasm, that DeAnna's "already won America's heart". He comments "She looks... like the Bachelorette". Where's Ryan Seacrest when you need him?

Now they have to go inside for a chat. I blocked out what they talked about, but I'm pretty sure it involved the overuse of the word "excited".

Back outside, Chris Dip notices her nerves (observation is a sign of intelligence I'm told). Without warning, his IQ slips back into the red when he repeats for the billionth time "let the journey begin". It makes you wonder how much this dude hates his life.

Finally, a flippin' limo arrives.

Brian, high school football coach from Texas, has sexy salt-n-pepper hair. Outside of that, he comes off super cheesy. One down! Twenty-four sleaze bags to go! Paul, Sales Manager (Best Buy?) from Canada TWIRLS her like she's his dolly. Graham's notes indicate he's a Pro Basketball Player from North Carolina. I like his little beard. He comes off ridiculously nervous, which I enjoy and find charming. Sean, Marshall Arts MASTER (uhh?) from Kentucky has a mullet, which is the ying to his job title. Rich, the hot geek Science Teacher from NY, says "You. Are. A. Vision." What does that mean? I would have said, "No, no, I'm real. Pass the shrooms, man." It must be a compliment to her though, cos she thanks him. Outside of that line, he actually comes off smart, well-spoken and friendly. I could see liking him. Jason (the winner) is an Account Executive from... I dont' know, I missed it... speaks Greek to her and she nearly rips off her dress. Eeks! Permanently Frightened-Face, Spero, approaches. He's an actor from Santa Monica with a certain insect quality. He overacts his intro with a comment on her rack. Man, his eyes bug out like he's some kind of movie studio plant to promote Tim Burton's next film. Jesse, Pro Snowboarder from Colorado, is dressed in MySpace wall paper. Dee matches Spero in eye bug out range, as if she's never seen any televised MTV red carpet event before. GET OVER YOURSELF, princess. Guess what? Black people can vote now! Wow, only eight so far. I need a cig.

Jon, Resort Manager from SC (also spiky hair enthusiast and chest-shaver), causes shocked Dee to lie, as she mutters threw clenched teeth, "You look greeeeat." Chris, Medical Sales in Texas, suggests touching her boobies upon any first meeting is what they do in his state. Pervs do that in her state too, so she complies.

Finally, we get a break from the monotony and find our way inside to see what all the hunks are talking about. Of course, they are discussing how hot she is and how sweaty their palms are. Plus, they dork out some unfunny blather about pounding hearts which they all find hilarious, and I find mind-numbingly boring. Regretting my life's plan, I start getting shit-faced.

Another gas-guzzling limo pulls up. Unfortunately, it isn't on fire, nor does it crush Dee into a thousand Southern-Greek pieces. Instead, a another dude gets out. An Indiana boy! Things are looking up. Brian, a Network Consultant (where do people find these jobs?), waits for a producer cue. When he doesn't get one (they're probably just laughing at him from behind a bush), Dee has to woo him over. I found myself entertained by that unique moment. Then my smile disintegrates when he spins her. Jeffrey, the token from Orlando (a Math Teacher by trade), becomes immediately forgotten as the camera never finds him again for the remainder of the 83 minutes. Don, Sales Rep (Circuit City?) from SC, has an attractively deep raspy voice but no brain power to make it work. Then, Dee attempts her best show of equality when she twirls him. Feminists unite! Ryan, Pro Football Player from Minnesota, loses me with his hair do. Plus, I'm pretty sure if he weren't a fundamentalist knuckle-head, he'd blaze fiercely out of the closet. Twilly (who claims he doesn't know how he got the nickname TWILLY), is a Debt Manager from Tulsa. Having been to Tulsa recently, I have to make a shout-out to Sonic, and to my sister, Katy. Hello Diet Cherry Limeaid Happy Hour! He kind of looks like the Mayor of Elkhart (only my mother will understand that comparison -- it ain't pretty). Hi, mom! He says, "You're very sparkly." In Twilly's defense, he is surprised by the presumptuous first-meeting hug.

Chris Dip steps in and I think it's all over, but no, ten more are on their way to dazzle and impress us. There's some canned chatter about Boyz II Men, and another drone carrier pulls into the driveway.

Ron, the straight "Barber Shop Owner" from Kansas City, forgets (purposely?) his jacket in the limo, which hall-monitor, Dee, points out like she's a fashion editor at Vogue magazine. He seems kind of creepy but I'm standing by him; us divorcees have to stick together! MMMMM Paaaatrick baaaby boy. Patrick, a whatever from wherever, is a total cutie. He's got the grown-out rock star floppy hair and a bit of a beard, and this incredible baby face, fortified by his huge anime eyes. Dee talks down to him like the stupid bitch she is and I know he's doomed. Sigh. Luke, pearl necklace connesuir, looks... tiny. Oh, but he is so sweet. Of course, The Bitch will send him packing BECAUSE WHY KEEP ANYONE WITH SUBSTANCE AROUND. Ah, who am I kidding, I'd kick his little behind back to the boat too. Annoyingly, she asks him to tell her something funny, and awesomely he replies, "How 'bout: You look great". I love you, Lukey. Call me! Eric, Senior Analyst (aka I drive a stupid Beemer) from Boston, tries that Greek shit out on her. Again, she fills her pants. Robert, a puffy-faced Chef from San Francisco, salsas with her to assistant producer-produced synth beats and then winks. Ugh.

ANOTHER LIMO pulls up. Couldn't they have just chartered a Greyhound? Chandler births from the car and stares off, stage left, for - I don't know - but it was awesome. I like him because he's in insurance and he's super pasty (he kind of resembles Tim from the UK Office, who is my pretend boyfriend). Dee tries to call him out on what he might have been gazing at, but he misses the joke and to his detriment, calls her "darlin". Puke. Point of interest: He grosses, "I'll be callin' on ya later." Make a note, cos, um, he does just that. Greg, a Personal Trainer from NY, tallies her body fat percentage. Fred, a Lawyer from Chicago, gives his best Bill Schwartsky's Superfan impersonation and she can't even offer a good Chris Farley quote. "That makes a baker's dozen fer me." Lamewad (her). He seems pretty genuine, and I can't deny I like that his name is Fred. Patrick, in Internet Marketing (more puke) from some shitty city in Illinois, comes off somewhat charming when he mutters, "drinks on me". All those lucky bitches drink for free! FINALLY, Jeremy, Attorney from Dallas, walks up with a nonchalant "hey" and my girl, Dee, well, her tongue flops all over the cement. It is OBVS she is totally enamored of him. She actually shows a glimpse of a real person, and now I wonder if my Jason-prediction is totally off. Alright, final two: Jason and Jeremy - the J Squad. She asks him to tell her something good, and he speaks to her in, hell, I don't know, I'm guessing it isn't Greek since she just stares at him blankly and replies with a dumbfounded, "Ok".

Dee tells Dip Shit how AMAZING her feelings are right now, and they take us to commercial with promises of real human interaction. Not bloody likely! He warns her, "Get ready for the night of your life." Makes you wonder what you're doing with your evenings.

Holy shit! THREE first-impression roses are up for grabs. Let's do some drinkin!

The misogyny is escalating to an all-time low when Dee finally enters the testosterone tank (and all of a sudden I recall I have a paper due tomorrow and would VERY MUCH PREFER WORKING ON IT, yet instead choose to continue dumbing myself down). Dee diplomatically offers that she understands what these idiots are going through. Some voice asks what mistakes SHE made when SHE exited the stupid limo, and she smugly offers that she doesn't make mistakes. If I had a penis, and heard that shit, I would have exited the house, but instead, all of those apes consider her reply spicy and further continue to wonder what she may look like naked. Yah, no one leaves. Sean, aka the star of the ill-conceived fourth installment of the Karate Kid, mullets in a talking head that Dee, "looks like the perfect wife for [him]." Have you ever heard anyone say that ever? Spero continues scaring everyone in the room, and then Dee tells us she's the first Ette EVER to give out three boutonnieres. This begs the question: Has ABC taken out a copyright on the word "ever"? Is this groundbreaking news? Today, I read about a seven-year-old Texan who beat up his grandmother when she refused to buy him chicken wings at Walmart. I'm just saying.

So she gives the first rose to Jeremy. DUH. Someone calls him a "jerk" which reminds me of what a great word "jerk" is and I consider macro-ing "jerk" for every word left in this recap.

Greg appropriately wonders if she should be concerned Jeremy is a lawyer. If I were you, Greg, I'd be more concerned that your 24 Fitness paycheck couldn't pay for Dee's impending boob job.

Dee continues to be an absolute bitch while pontificating on how her family rules, and basically threatens her dad will castrate them if they break her Gucci heart. Then, Jason, my single-dad pick, pulls her away for some one-on-dumb-ass "action" in which he neglects to reveal he's made spawn. I suppose I don't blame him, but it did send my mind off in this direction: Doesn't it seem that reality TV single dads are held in much higher moral regard than reality TV single moms? Think about it. Anyways, she pretentiously offers to J that her family "travels A LOT" to Europe, of course. Some of us made use of a Taurus wagon for stinky 24-hour road trips to Florida like three times during our childhood, you privileged ass.

Dee then is denied real blanket coverage from the Christian... SURPRISE SURPRISE, but creepy Spero saves the day and proves AGAIN, that the liberal dickhead actor is still kinder than a Midwestern Family-Value toting fundamentalist. Thanks, Ryno, for making my father proud of his belief system, ya jerk.

Oh God, I just saw myself in a mirror and I look like such non-Bachelorette-material-ASS.

Spero brings the lady his jacket; upon seeing him approach she loses her shit laughing at how funny he looks. Ryan knows he's dropped the ball like 75 yards short of the goal line, and decides to hit the showers for some grab ass with the boys.

Indoors, dudes chastise Spero for "throwing [Ryan] under the bus", which no one ever says in REAL life but the utterance always makes an appearance in REALITY TV life. It's almost as if REALITY is a misnomer of sorts. Did you ever think that the social definition of reality would come to mean the complete opposite of the literal definition of reality?... which, is almost the exact definition of IRONY. I think I just had a break through, but I will digress.

Dee comes back inside, tosses Spero his jacket before its cooties can permanently attach themselves to her chemical peel. Hey! There's my token, Jeffrey! Hi Jeffrey! Dee orders an Amaretto Sour from him, and exists stage right for more one-on-one napping - I mean, conversation.

Now she's couching with Barber Ron (barb barb barb barber Ron). Ron reveals he's been married - which is the ONLY interesting thing that could have come from that conversation. I mean, thank God for divorce. If I had to talk to her, I'd start dropping shit like I was the King of France in a former life just to keep all of middle America from falling asleep in their recliners (hi mom!). Like the controlling kindergarten teacher she is, she thanks him for revealing he's immoral scum, so she doesn't have to weasel it out of him later when he's fingering her in the hot tub.

Fred, from Chikahhga, and uh, I think Twilly, discuss cheating with Dee. Fred doesn't believe in it. I don't believe in stealing groceries. Twilly obviously does, as he's done it before (cheated, not stolen groceries - although, I wouldn't put it past him). Shit, totally not Twilly. The talking head copy says it's Chris. So Chris steals groceries, but will never ever ever ever do it again. No one asks Dee if she's cheated; I hate how it is assumed that she is the Moral Compass of Our Age who's constantly applying pressure to the penny held between her fucking knees.

Robert, the wasted Chef from my City, slurs he's gonna cook his way to her Big Montana (tm Jeri Lor-Lor). He heads off to the kitchen. There's Spero, spoiling the mysteries of the Universe, eye exposits, "He's a chef!".

Cut back to Robbie smugly chopping, smugs to his sous chef to "stand back", yet he never flips the knife. Like twelve dudes sit on his dick while he cooks, and he CLEARLY enjoys it. Granted, the chef thing is hot, but it all goes back to being hot and not knowing it - which is way hotter.

Luke, my most favorite oyster wrangler on the Bachelorette, talking heads he knows zilch about fine foods asserting Rob shit out some crab "dip". I found it endearing, but we know snobby D would think Luke is like totally geek. He relays he's intimidated by all of the over educated competition, and he continues to resusitate my dead heart. Then I swoop in on my white steed and rescue him from the hell he's in! We fly off to Rome and dirty talk in oyster euphemisms for the rest of our days. No, he's forced to talk to the Deevil instead. He sweetly presents his pearl necklace, and she practically runs off to get a towel before he's even finished. He is clearly nervous, as he can barely quit squirming around. Every time he looks at her, you think he just shit his pants a bit. And I imagine the room smells like the worst fart ever. We find out that he only farms in the winter, and teaches in the fall. I don't get those time frames? But whatever, time moves diffrnt in South Carolina I guess. SHE FREAKING CONDESCENDS, "GOOD FOR YOU". I really hate her. Luke further reveals his complexities by offering he surfs. Her fucking ill-equipped conversationalist ass replies, "NEAT". And then, in another talking head, I realize that Luke is the super coolest dude ever and I am truly in love with him.

God. WOOT WOOT, All Aboard at Smug Station! Roberto, wearing his stupid apron and shouldering his stupid towel, escorts stupid Deevil outside where her head bops around like a fembot, "Ok." "Ok." "Ok." "Ok." But before I can enjoy watching her head explode, she fills it with the crab dip. Apparently it cools down her circuitry enough to avoid "catastrophe" or "glory", depending on your perspective.

Later, Don, frat boy like me, makes the pearl necklace and crabs joke, and then Robert makes the confident joke. He says, "don't hate, congratulate". Oh, and I forgot to point out that earlier he actually said, "I wouldn't say I'm the master of seduction but I'm working on my degree." It's as if he speaks entirely in dialogue from SNL sketches, the sex ones. See, mom? This is why I never date. These are the douches who live in San Francisco.

And only now am I at the half way point, and I wonder if my computer has enough memory.

Jason tries to teach the Deevil how to swing dance, as the rest are just standing around them watching. Essentially, all twenty-six people in the room look pathetic in twenty-six different ways. Paulie, whines and moans that its his his turn to play with the Easy Bake Oven but big bully Jason keeps hogging the batter! More bitching by the "men" errupts, and, then by the Deevil (who (I think) FAKES her Southern accent sometames), and I wonder if any of them have heard of "perspective". Thankfully, Dip Shit enters the room to break up the stock-holder meeting.

Then enters Ginny or Jenny (depending on which dumb ass says it). She and the Deevil scream and mani/pedi and vote Pro-Life together, and all the guys drool in their direction, hoping, in all the excitement, a titty may pop out.

Evidently, we're to believe she's there to "help" the Deevil make her rose choices. If it were me, I'd just get whiskey-drunk and let my angry Big Montana do my consulting.

Canned giggle talk in front of the fireplace with the two girls has me praying the flames get loose, immediately find a gas leak, and the whole of LA evaporates in a cloud of smoke. Instead, we're shown Jinny's asshole-sized engagement blood diamond. They discuss it as if they hadn't ever. Yah, cos best friends wait only until they're on national television to reveal things like marriage plans. No wonder people never tell me things! They're waiting for our camera crew to show!

Interview montage with Jinny and men begins, and Patrick dances ironically (I'm hoping), as Jinny laughs her cooter off. Meanwhile, back in Clever-clever Land (tm Ben Stiller), the Deevil sits down with Richard, the NY science teacher. He destroys her with his superior vocabulary and then gives her a rock. She then asks what kind of killer wheels he has. The Deevil bobble heads that Richard is a "nerd", but she "really really really really really likes him", and her exhausted tongue gets handed a tiny wheelchair by a production assistant.

Cut back to Jinny's Interesting Interviews segment, where some crap is said, and Don awesomely begs her to sit on his lap, so he "can hold [her]". She brilliantly looks off camera and yells, "next". She's not so bad.

At the couch, the Deevil and Erik actually have a conversation I can stand about all things Greek, including mothers, weddings, children... and what it is like to be a boring pretty person-I'm guessing-they cut it off before it was finished.

Outside, Jinny fruitlessly forges on. To her credit, it looks like she's having a great time. Indiana shows off his abs - which, Jinny, you really should look at, cos not many boys from Indiana have nor can pronounce abs. Also, Jinny knows God will shrivel up her uterus as punishment for gazing at man meat, so she ritualistically digs out her eyes with the heel of her shoe as a show of ultimate devotion to morality. Trooper that she is, she giggles the whole time. Though there is a lot of blood, she manages to produce some serious interviewing questions, and we cut back to the living room where The Deevil is moral high-horsing to the lisp guy that she will get married only one time. LIKE, WHO SAYS THAT? SOMETIMES LIFE DOESN'T WORK OUT, you sanctimonious dick. The evil side of me wants her to to end up with a lazy, unemployable pothead man-child, put up with his shit for sixty years, and die - knowing she wasted her entire life clinging to a moral framework she adopted ON TELEVISION. JESUS H. CHRIST.

Jesse breaks up my 27-body murder count fantasy, by jumping his way into her heart - I mean onto the couch. Lispy diplomatically departs. The Deevil inquires as to why she's babysitting and not getting paid (tm Martha Plimpton), and Jesse calls her wickety wickety wack. Actually, his hair greases he's the real-dealio, and she seems vaguely impressed by him. Either that, or she's mesmerized by his neon shoelaces - hard to tell with her. How much do I love him when he offers her "nugs" (I say knucks), and how much do I don't believe her when she says her and her dad do that all the time. If she ever used the word "dude", even to Jinny, I may have believed her. Then, Cobra Kai interrupts to borrow some hair gel from Jesse, but the Deevil's got some stowed away in her bra. They all re-gel, and then Cobra, having gone batshit crazy from the fumes, tries to kick Jesse's head off. Weirdly, no one calls the police. Perhaps that mansion is its own municipality, and laws don't exist. This would explain A LOT.

Jesse regales the assassination attempt to the other inmates, and they all chuckle at him when he claims to have nearly "pooped [his] pants". And this is the point where I have no doubt in my mind that Jesse is The Deevil's perfect opposite. I do hope she keeps him around though - as he is my only source of entertainment at this point since I know slimy shucker boy is off to the docks.

Finally, Jinny and Deevil deliberate over Jinny's picture-notes outside. It appears to be freezing, but Dee opts NOT to cover her upper torso with the blanket so as to optimize her cleavage time on camera. Revealing much about the stupidity of women, in their efforts to "suffer" for beauty, I now understand THIS is why I don't date anyone. I tend to take care of my feet, hide my boobies and wear sweat pants in public. Hey, Dee! You'll never find love if you die of hypothermia!

Jinny likes Graham, Jesse and Jason, and she bumps up a few notches in my mind for picking them. I'm sure Dee will ignore her entirely because no one tells her what to do! "It's MYYYYYY show!"

Contrary to my prediction, she gives a rose to my boy Jess-dawg. Holla! She dumbs in an interview that she couldn't believe he wouldn't dress up for her, but surprisingly, he has a good personality. What do ya know? People are multi-dimensional?!?! Dee, I told you about the black vote thing, ya? Some more chit-chat about getting the rose, and then we thankfully cut to commercial so I can scrapbook together a pictorial history of civilization for my girl.

Twilly makes a Footloose reference, and I can't deny I appreciate it. However, appreciation turns back again to absolute fear when Greg voice overs he has serious mental issues via some fire metaphor I think stems from steroid abuse, and unable to predict future events announces confidently that although some (namely Twilly) have acted like idiots, he doesn't need to do that to win her attention. So finally, Dee speaks to the muscle. He says he had many layers to him, "compassionate, poetic and a wild boy". She deduces that the wild boy is represented in his tattoo "art". Paaatrick, baaby boy, is there. He concurs he has no tats and Greg says he has no "beeeeeeeeep". It is so beeped, I can't make it out, and Dee offers no insight when she replies her usual, "oooh. K."

Competitive desperation turns to pathetic competitive desperation when Chandler pulls out his duck call whistle. She's not impressed; nor does she wish to catch his communicable diseases as she refuses to try out the spit propelled bird sound machine. Lamely, Chandler fondles her hand and says, "I know you're a hometown kind of girl." She agrees. He then unawares, yet awesomely suggests, "Well, that's what I am." So Chandler's a hometown kind of girl. Either he's had too many Gin and Tonics, he has some serious gender identity issues or he has absolutely no grasp of pronoun modifiers. Brian and his abs are there. Brian makes love to his abs, which causes her to respond with another "oooh. K.". Brian tries to steal the duck call come on, yet AGAIN. SUPRISINGLY, it doesn't win her heart.

Paulie, from Canada, who speaks like a Canadian, shocks her out of her coma by revealing he grew up on a farm, yet loses her to life support when he decides he will JUMP IN THE POOL in order to get the illustrious prize of a third rose and further, having to stay in her presence LONGER.

NO one gets the douche in the pool a towel, she laughs at him, and he shows his ass, figuratively and literally when he reveals his bikini underwear have been emblazoned with her name. Ryan incorrectly deduces that Paulie's antics show him to be "fun-loving" when really they show his brain to be "at an oxygen deficit". Boys, for future reference, any stunt which directly leads to you to be standing, wet, in only custom-designed bikini briefs and a suit coat amongst other dudes actually "dressed" for a formal affair, would probably be an idea categorized as "missing-important-teeth nuts".

The Deevil then has one-on-one time with Graham. She admits he's easy to look at and her type. He admits he's starting a "charity for children with diseases." Huh? What? Why? What? She doesn't even question this bullshit story, but instead naively offers she admires him for being a bold face liar. We get deeper into the person of DeAnna when she reveals her more immoral side. She slang dranks for nine years! And she could show Graham up, Cocktails & Dreams style. He responds by explaining his rubber band bracelets are a fashion statement he clings to cos when he was a kid, "he read a book." Illuminating.

One more first impression rose to go. And she plants it on Richard, cos he's a big nerd ball sweetheart. Ensuing conversation with him reveals the ONE thing we should all know about Dee? She's into surprises (aka Christmas is "unreal"). If I was asked the ONE thing someone should know about me, I don't think I would dive into the materialistic side of my habits: Reason 259 no one nominated me to be on the show. Richard tells us all he has low self-esteem. Sorry, the dude is hot. I don't get how high school has been ruining him for the past eleven years since. My advice: Get over it, dude. Exposition master, Spero, who she's never even seen up close, tells naked Paulie, Richard got the rose. Aw, then my winner Jason whines he wanted the schmoopy rose. Don't worry, buddy! Unless there's a science fair, you could still win this thing!

Finally, Dip Shit comes back. Do you think he's getting plastered in the back room on that always-with-him champagne? If not, what is he doing back there? I'd love to think he's sitting in a control booth ripping apart everyone. How can I get into that elusive control booth? I want to know. Hell, they probably just plug him into to the recharger.

Yay! Final rose ceremony. The Deevil makes a beeline for the shitter so she can contemplate her impending choices for a future ex-husband. They probably have a PA with her at all times. Seriously, if I was left alone for even a second, I'd find an open window and make a run for it. Then again, you'd never catch me uttering I was the luckiest girl in the world for being handed this group of dildos to choose from. Sorry, I shouldn't insult dildos like that. Let's call them donuts. Or meatloaves. No, pork tenderloins. Even better: Bologna sandwiches. On white bread.

Twelve roses remain, ten will be going home. She diplomatically lies she loves them all like they're sweet little baby hearts, and thus begins the libido-slayings. She keeps Ron, Graham, Erik, (the underlying intense music is driving me nuts, everyone without a rose looks like they're about to be executed), Robert, Sean Sensai, Virginal Ryan, (my poor little oyster boy knows he's dead), Chris, Paul the Fucking Underwear Designer, Fred (yay!), Twilly Mush-Mouth, Jason!, Brian-Texas (ooh, hard blow to Indiana). The only sandwiches I'll miss will be Lukey and Paaatrick. Oh, breaking my heart, Luke exit-interviews that she deserves true love (NO) and he's just a country boy (not JUST my love!) and he'll be going home. How did I get so attached to him? See, how this recap shit (having to watch the show twice) binds you to strangers? How do I get his email?

Chandler, hoping an agent sees him, tries his darnedest to work up a tear on the way out. No going.

Then Greg...

Wastedly, he offers she's a queen and he'll hold her in the highest regard - yet, he's not willing to compromise himself (you're on the show, dude). He makes it outside and then the real tragedy unfolds. He thinks she's found him too rebellious. He asserts he will rise from the ashes. So he Hoganizes a shirt rip-off sequence coupled with the howling and the horrific Chrystel meth/steroid acne which has dotted the whole of his already red chest and back, and you wonder when exactly he might have graduated from high school.

This season, on the Bacherlorette: The Deevil has no regrets; hand holding; beaches; Greek-Godessing; line dancing; Ellen DeGeneres; Dee is living "every girl's dream" (fuck you, NO); since they're dudes, the show cruelly makes them live in a bunker having to earn the right to enter her "mansion"; jealousy; animosity; questioning intentions; dissension in the house; no leading on (which I think she may say to Cobra Kai); she puts her whole heart into this!; journeying; true love seeking; man of her dreams seeking; sharing more journeys; marriage talk; ready to fall in love talk; prince charming posturing; promises of sexist fairy tale endings.

Wow. I'll see you next week. Who needs a drink?

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

I "Need" A Massage

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Therese: i'm gettin a massage today
after sushi
me: isn't your life swanky
Sent at 11:55 AM on Tuesday
me: i got yr lady's bday present
i hope she likes it, i know im excited to look at it!
Therese: what is it?
me: a xxxx
Therese: which xxxx?
me: the xxxxxxxx one
Therese: coo
just got my massage
me: yah, howd u wrangle that
Therese: this guys comes in every 1 or 2 months to give us massages
wow felt good man
me: im sure
Therese: you should do it at yer office
me: that guy doesn't come here
Therese: $1 a min but our office chips in $5
me: not too shabby
Therese: he says he'd go to sf--ariel wants to hook it up at her office
me: isn't it terrible tht i have this awful burning hatred for people when they tell me they got a massage?
Therese: me too yo
me too
me: i think of the africans who toil for 18 hr days in the hot sun in diamond mines so that us white rich people can buy them and then give each other fucking massages since WE are so stressed OUR bodies are so overworked. weak
sorry, you know i am on on fire about being a privileged american today
plus im yelling at everyone
current landlord, old landlord, the radio shack guy...
Therese: wow
me: i know, my period's due
Therese: i was gonna say
me: yah, cos my point of view is crap, right? LET'S DISMISS ELLY SINCE HER UTERUS IS BLEEDING
Therese: our massage therapist gets paid pretty well tho--i appreciate being privileged
well yer point is true
me: the poor burmese farmer who toils in 1 acre of land to make 250 BUCKS PER YEAR - THAT GUY NEEDS A MASSAGE IF ANYONE DOES
Therese: but we also get shelter and just because the hot water in our sink doesn't work we stress hardcore, there are people all over the world with no water and no homes
give those guys a massage
me: i know. it is just the massage is a bit too self-indulgent FOR ME - you go ahead and knock yrself out
Therese: are you serious? we're all privileged
me: never said i wasn't
Therese: wow
we're all a little self-indulgent
even you i'm sure
but i'm not judging
me: dude, own yr massage man - don't worry about me
Therese: i am totally owning it--didn't know i had to gchat it tho
me: in my point of view, i couldn't pay for something like that. but that's mine and i own that
me: sorry, just watching too many documentaries lately. so i have these intense working images in my head of work, real physical labor and then i put my flabby body on a massage bed and drinking a coolie and shit and it looks gross to me
Therese: have you ever been to a restaurant where someone serves you?
me: wow, you're completely missing my point
Therese: manicure? pedicure? hair did?
me: it is about the massage itself
Therese: ya...
me: this idea that your body is in need of a person to rub it down
i can't justify that when people ACTUALLY physically work
and can't access a massage. that's all
Therese: like when you go out to eat...
me: i don't see the correlation yr making at all.
you are hyper defensive over your massage
i am not indicting you for that choice
Therese: people doing physical work for someone who's just sittin on their ass taking it?
i'm just trying to get you
me: no, more so, that people think they need it
that their bodies are in need of it
Therese: oh
i guess you're right then
me: im just comparing the 'working the body' thing
digging a ditch vs sitting at a computer
Therese: oh
me: and not that we don't feel stress, we do
Therese: you just seem real fired up about it
me: and everyone probably does need a massage really, but not comparatively
Therese: true
me: i am fired up about everything
this is what i said to my coworkers: i suck peoples' dicks all day long and just for once, i'd like someone to suck mine
Therese: these are the moments you should consider working out in the field or something or helping people that do that
or maybe you can give them massages
me: ha
i know my life is easy but i don't like being taken advantage of
Therese: well that massage guy is suckin dick for $60 an hour
i'm suckin it for like $20
me: im not rich, and those fucking me are
why do they get to do all the fucking?
so it doesn't happen often but today im not taking any shit
just for today
Therese: it's all suckin dick whether yer sittin on yer ass or giving a massage
me: yep
Therese: hopefully you're suckin dick while yer doin something you like to do
well that's my dream anyway
me: that's all i do
all day
suck asshole dick
Therese: who doesn't?
me: sometimes i suck dick's assholes
alll those dicks and assholes
Therese: whatever you're into
i'm talking metaphorically
me: so when i pay money for something, i'd at least like my nipple squeezed or something
but no, i just get pee'd on
and im not into that
Therese: really?
me: also metaphorical
Therese: alright i'm gonna keep suckin dick
me: yah i guess i should to
while i attempt to rub my own shoulders
Therese: i thought you liked suckin dick
me: not when someone's finger in my asshole
Therese: hope your day wil get a bit better
you should get a massage
they feel great
me: maybe

Friday, May 16, 2008

Recommendation! Television on the Radio

Downloading podcasts at work is just something...I do. Admittedly, I have bogarted like hundreds of the free ones, yet have only really listened to maybe ten percent of the deluge. (Isn't this what a hoarder does?)

So, in a conscious effort to saturate my mind with real life, news, and the extraordinary tales of ordinary folks, I loaded up my iPod with broadcasts -- for a recent familial pilgrimage to the bible belt.

Amidst the dozen or so trips to Sonic, and the deeply disturbing discussions about the existence of HELL, I never really took advantage of my digital education.

But my first day back in California, as to refresh the liberal side of my brain, I scanned my nerd-library and happily devoured This American Life's "What I Learned From Television". And so became the thesis of my Thursday, as I listened to it THREE times.

Um, this one was made for me - and perhaps, you too. Get a load of what comes in this podcast:

+Essayist David Rakoff, "off" of TV for the last 20 years, is FORCED to watch 29 hours of it. (Incidentally, the average American watches 29 hours of TV PER WEEK.)

+Sarah Vowell, beloved author of Assassination Vacation, discusses sitcoms and their light commentary on dark American history. Who can blend pop culture resin with fucked up facts about Puritans and the Salem witch trials? SV can.

+MY FAVE! Ira Glass admits to his obsession with Fox's The OC. In his story, he includes an awesomely meta audio clip from the show, and the segment ends with Mates of State (!) covering Phantom Planet's "California"...which EVERYONE knows is The OC's theme song... right? I'm pretty sure everyone knows that.

+The show ends with syndicated sex columnist and's adversary Dan Savage, who indicts Disney smut, and provides a personal commentary on TV vs familial influence in the upbringing of children (gay or straight) (apparently, you can tell pretty early).

Can you believe one podcast could contain so much?

I can't help myself; I'm half way through my fourth listen.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Congrats To My Lesbo Sisters, and Other California Gays I Don't Know

The Commercial Lines department (the humorless drones next door) errupted into cheers and applause moments ago. Why for? The California State Supreme Court just overturned the gay marriage ban, since "...domestic partnerships are not a good enough substitute for marriage."

Hey! Now they can get legally divorced, too!

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