Rolling down the street...

Friday, July 29, 2011

I said I'd do it, so here it goes, a brief rundown of my thoughts on Twilight. Don't gag, I'll make it quick. That's what she said. Lol, Michael Scott where have you gone. Anyway, back to Twilight. If you haven't seen it, don't. Probably not worth your time, nor will the next few paragraphs of this blog be.

I'm gonna open up with some questions. How is it that nobody in Forks knows about these Werewolves or Vampires yet Bella moves there and within no time discovers this huge secret? Isn't that just a little much? Furthermore, are there really no good looking girls in this town so the two "hotties" Edward and Jacob have to actually fight over Debbie Downer Bella aka Kristen Stewart? Known for constantly running her hands through her greasy black hair and saying lines like, "that's like really kinda perfect, actually." And speaking of hotties, Taylor Lautner? Cute? I suppose, if you're into that Abercrombie gorgeous model look, which hello I am, I date Chris, don't I? The other guy, Robert Pattinson, before watching the movie I seriously thought it was a joke that girls found him attractive. He's no Justin Bieber. But after watching the movie I kind of get it, not that I think he's attractive now, but I will say his role is meant to be this hero type guy who when he walks onto screen music plays and a looks like they put actually put a fan machine on him. Ew. No wonder freaky high school kids and bored house moms dig this shit. My next question is about the Werewolves. What happens to their cargo shorts when they magically transform from Native Americans into animals? Do the shorts disappear back onto the shelves at Old Navy I wonder? And how does the Native American community feel about everything? Because we already know their thoughts on mascots, are they pissed about Twilight too? And if a Vampire and a Werewolf get together is their baby a Vampwolf, or a Werewire, because you know that's going to happen sooner or later.I also still don't understand how Vampires are dead, but yet they can still be killed? What's going on there? They can't be shot or stabbed, but if you squeeze their head real hard they just shatter? I'm not buying it. Furthermore, who decided that Vampires have crazy super speed all of the sudden? This wasn't going on during Buffy's days. She could catch and kill the Vamps with a piece of wood, a clove of garlic, and a cute smile. That's more than Bella can say.

I think have too many questions to really get into this film. I should probably call my friend I met in New York, Chris Weitz, you know the director of Twilight and figure it all out. Nbd.

Speaking of how cool I am, Chris and I will be attending the Snoop Dogg show at House of Blues tonight. Chris Hillis not Weitz I should clarify. Yup, the original D-O double G. It's not my first time seeing Snoop, but I'm still excited, and House of Blues is always a good venue. I say that as if I've been to a show there which I technically haven't. But I have been waiting to wear my new Bulls jersey dress for quite some and I think this will be the perfect occasion finally! Just me and my boo, out for a night of fun, gon' be real tight sipping on Hypnotic, toking on the chronic. I'm kidding, I'm not alluding to drug use by any means. And of course we're not going to drink Hypnotic, probably just gin and juice. Laid back, with my mind on my money and my money on my mind. Just another Friday night in Chi Town.

24 Year Old Teen Mom

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Well I'm done playing mommy. Much to my dismay, Jade picked up Knox yesterday to bring him back home. I was sad to see him go, we had such a good time together. It was just so fun to have someone with me at all times of the day. ALL times. From the moment I got up (like for the day, not the numerous times in the night) until the moment I went to bed, Knox was with me. It's cute how social he is, he demands company pretty much all the time. But just your company isn't enough, he likes to be bounced on your leg, or pat on the back, or tossed in the air, or fed, or changed, or fed, or changed, and all for no more than five minutes at a time because then he gets bored. I wonder if babies can take Adderall? I don't want to start throwing out diagnosis's, but I think Knox might have ADD. And since I've opened the floodgates, I might was well just put it out there, I think Knox has a few other disorders, as well- he's probably Bipolar, he's definitely Bulimic, he suffers from IBS FOR SURE, and I don't think he understands English. His ADD became evident when I noticed he just couldn't seem to focus on any one thing, especially when I would try to feed him and he would rather grab the keys or the marker or the flip flop that was sitting next to his Bumbo. Oh you don't know what a Bumbo is? It's a baby term, get with it. I noticed Knox's Bipolar disorder when one second he was giggling and smiling and the next he was red faced and screaming. What's going on with that? How could something have gone so terribly wrong in .2 seconds that would cause such a tantrum? It just doesn't seem normal. As for his bulimia, well this is a real problem. I don't know how the kid gains any weight at all for as much as he throws up. I would be holding him and all of the sudden a warm liquid would rush out of his mouth and all over me. And without being too vulgar, his IBS is definitely cause of concern. Each diaper held a new surprise. Would I find a melted Milk Dud inside or a hot mess of Hamburger Helper? And how on earth did it travel from his bottom to his back? It's almost as if his digestion system works like a fountain rather than a hose... Think about it.

I would pray for the moments Knox would fall asleep. I would have an entire list of things I was ready to get done in my forty minutes of free time. But usually, I was so tired from watching over the little manic monster that I would end up just spending my forty minutes of freedom on the couch. It's really a terrible cycle. Being a young mom isn't nearly as glamorous as it looks on Teen Mom. I can totally see why Amber freaks out all the time and beats up Gary, it's because she's tired. And Maci takes baths in bronzer because she feels ugly from never having time to get ready, makes complete sense. No wonder Catelynn and Tyler are the most normal, it's because they don't have Carly to care for all the time. And Farrah's a bitch because she's the spawn of Satan, no other reason can explain why she's so heinous to her poor mom from Who-ville. I don't know though, I'm starting to think being on an MTV show isn't worth having a baby for like all of the 16 year olds are doing these days. It's kind of a lot of work.

This will be my last weekend before I jump head first into the working world. I'm not happy about it but it's just the way things have to be right now. So I'm going to suck it up and embrace it. From here on out it's all work and just a little play, so to finish my final free days I am celebrating by doing exactly what I want to do, not doing what I think I should do which is lay out, play outside, go to the beach, walk around shops. No, I'm spending it laying on the couch watching hours of dumb reality shows and watching the Twilight movies. I've never read the books and I judge those who do. But I accidentally watched the first and thought it was awful, so of course I am going to finish with the other two. I plan to write a full review when I'm done because I've already got an entire list of questions. Like the Olsen twins famously said, Too Little Time for all I have to do!

I'm a quitter. Happy Friday.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Today is a good day. Well for starters, it's Friday, and for enders, the heat finally let up a bit this morning with a refreshing thunderstorm. I cherished every second of what could be one of my last Friday mornings on the couch with Hoda and Kathie Lee for quite some time, I mean besides next Friday. But after that it's back on the grind. Let's see, what else makes today great? Oh yes, I quit my job. Officially done. No more parking in high school parking lots, no more rolling my cooler over high school feet, no more dressing like Iron Chef. I have retired the culinary jacket for good, it's hanging on my wall next to the old emblems symbolizing the other jobs I have quit thus far in life: newspaper delivery bag, black market candy sales (my mom had a brief stint at Nestle so naturally I sold her samples in grade school) referee whistle, lifeguard swimsuit, Verizon Wireless student rep, Pink Panther head cover sales on Ebay, Hy Vee shirt... The list is actually quite long for being as young as I am. Hy Vee hardly counts though because I only had that job for two weeks. I was fourteen and under some weird illusion that it would be "fun" to get a job at such a young age. What a fool I was. At fourteen the only jobs you are assigned at Hy Vee is to bag groceries or cart corral. Oh hells no, even at fourteen I had my standards. Luckily, Hy Vee has pop machines outside of their building so on really hot days I would just buy a soda on my way out "to get carts" but instead would go hide behind the big mom suburbans in the way back of the parking lot. I'd just sip on my soda and think about how much life sucked for a fourteen year old, again a very foolish thought for such a carefree time in life. Oddly enough, I did pretty much the same thing when I was a beer cart girl at the Norfolk Country Club, make myself a nice little Shirley Temple and suck it down while hiding down by the river between holes four and five. But by far the job I held for the shortest amount of time was when I attempted to be a bartender/cocktail at... Iquanas. I know, it's hard for me to admit. But in my defense, I thought I was working at the super posh "Voda" on the back side of Iquanas, and to a 20 year old Lincoln girl, Voda was pretty awesome. White couches and dark mood lighting? Uh yes please! But in fact I was working at Iquanas. After one hellish night of following a snatchy veteran bartender bitch around, I'd had enough, I couldn't go back for my next shift the following night. But I wasn't just going to no-show, that's completely unprofessional. Instead, I had Kim call in and act like me to tell them I quit. One afternoon in Theta, a bunch of us sorority sisters giggled around the phone as Kim called Iquanas and delivered the bad news on my behalf. It was all going good until the manager asked for her (my) phone number so I could get paid for the one night I worked. Kim got nervous and said, "uh, hold on let me get it." The plan went to shit right there. But what did I care, I didn't go back.

So of course I texted Kim last night and asked if she wouldn't mind doing me a tiny little favor. Would she quit another job for me? She thought about it, but in the end she didn't want to do it since it wasn't going to be from my actual phone, and because she said this is different because it's kind of a "real job." Whatevs, I took care of it. I called HR and delivered the news myself. And boy did I tell them off. I told them I was starting my own company, and I was taking my fish with me. And I'll be damned if Dorthy Boyd didn't stand up right then and there and say she was coming with me, Jerry Maguire, on to bigger and better things. This is the start of something good, I can feel it. Because like every good Facebook quote says, the end of one thing is the start of another. When one chapter closes, a new one begins. When God closes a door, he opens a beer. And ext and so forth with every other motivational quote someone uses when they're scared shit less about their life going down the shitter. Not that I think my life is going down the shitter because it so obviously isn't. Hello! I live in Chicago! And if you haven't learned by now living in either LA, Chicago or New York makes your life important. It just does. It's why all of us Midwesterners strive so hard to move away and then secretly get really homesick but never tell anyone except for the times we do get to come home (after we've posted like a 3 week countdown on Facebook about it) for probably a football game or something and then get drunk and cry saying how we don't want to go back but then never admit it the next day... Because why would we? We live somewhere cool.

But seriously, I haven't had this breakdown- yet. I imagine it will come about the third week into my new job, and that's thinking positively. I just get weirdly frustrated when I don't understand something and get a strong urge to stomp my feet and whine and scream like a five year old. It's just a natural reflex I think. I just have to remind myself to calm down and stick with it, because as far as I'm concerned it's just a matter of faking it. All jobs are. The only jobs that might require some thought and I think would be hard to fake would be a doctor and an electrician. Everything else is just a matter of learning the lingo and learning the hand gestures.

But enough about me. Let's talk about Friday. I refuse to quote Rebecca Black anymore since I saw she totally sold out and showed up in a Katy Perry video. No thank you. I guess you can't even count on the most talented musicians to not give in to the machine in the end. Happy Friday, you couldn't have come at a better time!

Hot enough for you?

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Today I decided to try something new and took Harlow to Chicago's dog park beach. It was literally a little piece of dog heaven out there. Dogs of all breeds, shapes and sizes frolicked together to escape the heatwave rolling through Chicago right now. The cool water felt amazingly refreshing. But you had to be careful because there were hot pockets everywhere, unlike humans, dogs don't even attempt to fake it when they piss in a lake. The scary part is when you see them all hunched over in the water in their poop pose. Luckily, I only saw one man doing this today and I stayed as far away from his as possible. Harlow and I played on the "big dog" side of the beach with other dogs named things like Zeus, Drake and Bear, you know, big dog names. I was having a lot of fun playing with Harlow in the water, but in seconds I was surrounded by all the labs and pit bulls wanting to play with me too. Dogs are a lot like preschool kids, when they spot the one adult wanting to play on the playground they all spaz out and want to join the fun. And you can call me a racist, but I refuse to play with pit bulls because they eat babies. I know it might just be a stereotype, but I believe pit bulls eat babies like bullmastiffs eat baseballs. So I just refuse to play with both.

So is it hot anywhere else, or just here? Because boy oh boy it's stinking hot here. So hot in fact, that last night there was blackout through out the city, Chris and I were without electricity from 8 p.m.-5 a.m. It made for a long night. But even more annoying than not having air conditioning, is the constant heat small talk I get everywhere I turn. Man at the gas station, "it hot enough out there for you?" Woman on the train, "woo weee, hot enough out there for you darling?" Man at the dog beach, "gotta be at the beach, hot out enough for ya today?" What's with that question? Hot enough for you? Why does everybody ask it, and how am I supposed to answer it? Hot enough for what I wonder? What are all these people insinuating? It what it is. And that's hot, so deal with it and stop asking about it. I guess the heat makes me a little irritated. And you know what else irritates me? Hair feathers. What in the hell is this all about, will someone tell me the source of the trend here? Because I have a feeling some celeb got drunk one night and wore one out to a bar that was saturated with a bunch of hairstylists and they grabbed onto this like the next hot trend that it is. Well I think it's dumb, and obviously I'm an expert on hair style since I've had one solid style since 1993 with a minor blip in 2007 when I attempted a "Britney bob." If anything this "feather" reminds me a little bit of the bead braid my mom rocked from about 1991-1995. I'm talking about just a small strand of hair that's braided with a few beads on the end, maybe some jewels or gems for a special occasion like a vacation, while the rest of the hair is cut super short. My mom had this going on through out her Jazzercise years, and I gotta say, the braid looked pretty schnazzy alongside her neon splattered thong unitards. But that too passed, like I'm sure the feather will. So my question is what's next... An actual fish tail you put in your hair? A dog tail? A dog ear? Whatever it is I'm sure the girls of Josephs Beauty schools are already hard at work preparing for this next great thing.

Time for a Blue Moon. It's the only way I can survive this heat wave trapped in a city of no pools and small talkers.

It's an "I got the job!" status

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

So I got a job offer today... A real life- don't have to dress like a chef or cater to high school students- job offer. This real life job offer also entails working adult hours now. So yeah, that should be interesting. I haven't worked an 8-5 job since May 2009 when I had a two week stint at Sandhills, and we all know how that ended. It ended with me clearing out my shit at lunch one day so I could head to the lake for the rest of the summer. But this job will be different, I saw a good omen today when I got off the train and turned the corner to head to my "work." The omen was a bar, but it wasn't just any bar. It was a little hole-it-the-wall place my mom, Chris and I drank the first week we got here just because we happened to come across it. It's called "Stocks and Blondes." It's an after work stop for all the working people in the financial district, dark lighting, brick walls, it's a good ol Chicago pub in every sense of the way. So it seems I might finally get to experience that Broiler Room happy hour scene, after all. I'll be just another mid 20 year old relaxing at the bar with my other mid 20 year old friends dressed in our suits and ties discussing work over a few brews. So I may be giving up the Today Show and Oprah, but I'm gaining happy hour... I just have to remind myself of that every single day. Oh God, how I love my Today Show mornings. It's going to be hard not being able to enjoy them every morning from 7 a.m.-10 a.m. at my leisure. But I can do it... It's all about sacrifices.

The place I was offered a job is a small company, only about fifteen employees. So it looks I might be the newest member of "The Office." I will finally have the camaraderie of employees in an actual office setting. I can only begin to imagine the types of hi-jinx we'll get into. I'll be involved in office drama I'm sure, and office birthday parties and office after hours and office holiday celebrations! It's going to be a whole new world for me, I feel just like Princess Jasmine discovering the peasant world for the first time. And I almost forgot the best part, Friday is CASUAL day! I can wear jeans to work! How cool is that? I have a feeling drinking on the weekends is going to be a lot more fun after a forty hour week. Forty hours... Shit's about to get real, real fast.

I still have a week or two before I officially start this new job. So next week in honor of my last week off for summer I am celebrating by agreeing to babysit Knox for two days while Jade goes out of town. I haven't been alone with a baby for more than two hours so I'm not quite sure how it's going to go down. But since Knox is coming, I've been thinking about babies a lot, more specifically Facebook babies and I started wondering what happens when a Facebook baby becomes a Facebook kid? Let me explain myself. At six months old, Knox already has more photos on Facebook than me. Knox has already "checked in" at more restaurants and locations, and God willing, he has a lot more naked pictures online. So my question is, what happens when Facebook babies grow up? When these adorable little status worthy creatures become actual people who start to realize every moment of their lives has been documented thus far? On a social network millions have access to I might add. Are these kids gonna be pissed? Humiliated? Or worse of all, will they not care one bit? Remember that awkward time in your life when you would get all modest and embarrassed when your parents would show naked baby pictures of you to your friends for their own amusement? I can't help but wonder if that modesty will even exist anymore for our future Fb'rs generation, how could it when their entire life has been put on the Internet? It's bath time for little Johnny! Better post it with a mobile upload! Too bad little Johnny is 13 years old now. Karen just got her first period, better post it! Has anyone else wondered about this social phenom taking place right before our eyes? Maybe it's just me, but I think we're starting something here that we have no idea what the after affect will be. Like Adderall or Aids. At this point all we can do is sit back and watch what happens. Like Adderall and Aids.

Ugh, babies and jobs. Two subjects I don't want to think about anymore for at least a few days. Or years. I wish a job was like a cute baby nephew, I could have it just for a few days while it's fun, but then when it gets annoying and starts to spit up someone else would come to pick it up.

On the job hunt...

Friday, July 15, 2011

Laying out poolside at a beautiful resort in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains could not have come at a better time. Ever since I got back from the Hamptons last week, it's just been go, go, go for me. I really needed this vacation, and who knows, this might be my last vacation for awhile since I might have just landed myself a job... Like a real job, an 8-5, skirt and heels, drink coffee all day because I'm bored, kind of job. And it scares the shit out of me.

So I've been sending out a lot resumes in the past few weeks. And oddly enough, I haven't been getting a lot of interest. Now this is as big of a shock to me, as I'm sure it is to you. Do employers not read on my resume that I work well autonomously, as well as in a group? That I'm driven and career focused, communicate well verbally and also in written situations? And if those facts don't seal the deal well then the fact that I was Captain of the Lady Panther basketball team in 2005 certainly should. I've considered lately changing my propose statement at the top of my resume to something more real, something more along the lines of,

"I am semi interested in the position you have available, it doesn't sound great, but I think I could make it work. I'm not a creep, I'm easy to get along with as long as you don't piss me off. I like to drink, sometimes I get sloppy, but that always makes for good office stories. I get my shit done so don't bother me about it and I don't have any weird ticks like cracking my knuckles or constantly clearing my throat. So let's meet up, but don't Facebook me, I don't like to cross professional and social network lines."

So I finally got an interview last week. In preparation, I watched Working Girl (see photo to right), Erin Brockovich, and every Rugrat episode involving Angelica Pickel's hard working mom. Wednesday morning I was ready to go in my pencil skirt and blazer. I looked like such a corporate shark it wasn't even funny. Dressed in my panty hose and white Nikes, I headed for the train with my heels in my purse (it's what us city girls do.) And if you really think I walked around downtown in a dress skirt and sneakers like a confused 3rd grader, I hate you. I walked to meet Chris for lunch first at his Groupon building a few blocks away. It was a "moment" for me walking downtown dressed like a real professional worker lost in the mix of sky scrapers and other young professionals in cheap suits and H&M jackets on their way to doing something very important. I might as well have had an abused pregnant friend along because I felt just like Britney Spears in that awesome movie Crossroads, a small town girl making her way in the big city.

The interview went pretty good. Interviews in general though are just awkward and weird. The dialogue is all the same, it's just a matter of following the formula:

I'm this + I'm great because of this + a joke + I'm still so great + a dash a modesty+ one more joke + hire me = an interview.

I would be deeply humiliated if anyone I knew ever saw me in interview mode. I schmooze, I laugh at bad jokes, I admit to things I have no idea about, I give back rubs, I do back flips through rings of fire all while dressed in a monkey suit, like I said, very humiliating. But lucky enough for me, this interview was pretty legit. All the people who interviewed me were really down to earth and just wanted to talk about Nebraska's switch to the Big Ten. I'm meeting with them again on Tuesday to discuss the switch in further detail, if I have to drop Suh's name to get the job don't think I won't, I've done worse.

But no more job talk. It's Piña Colada time, time to get caught in the rain, I'm not much into health food, but I have half a brain. Go enjoy your own high caloric fruity drink, its that kind of day.


Excerpt from airport diaries 7/14/2011

Dear Diary,

Another fun filled day spent at the airport. For the record I’m no longer at camp, but the “dear diary” just feels right ,so I’m going with it. My fun filled travel day began around noon today. It’s 8:00 p.m now, so why am I still in Chicago you might ask. Well, let me explain. Around noon today I begin walking to the train, with Chris’s suitcase, my suitcase, a computer bag and my purse in tow. Luckily, I wasn’t wearing a chef’s coat. At which point I thought, “God am I glad I don’t have to be a traveling culinary gypsy anymore.” But that’s beside the point. What is the point is that I had to drop Harlow off at his doggy daycare at 10:00 a.m. today. A daycare that I might add we were initially very pleased to get him into. It took a vigorous interview session and few socialization trial classes but eventually we got the go ahead that he was accepted into this elite school that was conveniently very close to our home. But today when I dropped him off something just didn’t feel right. I got the Happy Gilmore feeling. Like maybe everything seemed just a little too good to be true at Dogs Day Inn. Was Harlow really playing in the yard with his friends all day long or was he actually sewing dog beds for profit? I don’t know. When I left he put his paws on the door and looked at me like. “oh please, don’t leave me here.” But, I had no choice. And I’m still being nagged by this image.

So I got on my train and met Chris downtown. We took the train to Midway and thought everything was going smoothly, that is until we got to the airport. “Flight Cancelled,” the screen boasted. Come again? Call me naïve, but I didn’t realize airlines still did this to normal people. Were Chris and I on some reality TV romantic comedy show where it only made sense our flight was cancelled and we were re routed to spend a night in downtown Chicago running from comical thieves who were trying to kidnap us as we jumped from one abandoned house to the other? Because in that case it would make total sense. Otherwise why in the hell is it okay for an airline to tell you just two hours before your flight that it’s been cancelled? Turns out it’s okay because of weather… Apparently Denver got some crazy hailstorm last night that damaged a bunch of Frontier planes. Blah, blah, blah. Put the plane in the garage at night, everybody knows that.

Well our flight was cancelled. Plan A: hitch a ride with John Candy and his energetic polka band to our final destination or plan B: drive thirty miles to O’Hare Airport and catch a flight on another airline five hours later. Much to my dismay, we went with plan B. We got to O’Hare around 3:30, our new flight was scheduled for 8:05. Too much time in an airport can be a dangerous thing. Luckily, you can always can’t on the good ol TSA to waste a large majority of your time at the airport. Since I’m a little tipsy, and a lottta bit sassy, I’m gonna go off on the TSA for just a moment. I hate them because they are all a bunch of uneducated white trash (but only in a general term, any race can actually apply) group of people who take a great deal of pleasure in the small amount of power they get to hold for once in their life over powerful people (like myself.) Something about me must scream“Body Scan Me!” “Make me take off my jacket even if it’s not actually a real jacket but just a part of my overall ensemble!” “Inspect my watch, it might contain a very tiny bomb!” “Be a bitch to me, I enjoy conversating with airline people.” Ext and so forth. So Chris watches from the side as I get Natalie Hollawayed from head to toe (too soon? I didn’t think so either, it’s been like five years.)

But the best part about making it through security is that you’re one step closer to a bar. And an airport bar at that. I think I could be served a chilled glass of urine at an airport bar and I would still enjoy myself. Something about a drink in the airport just says, “Hey, relax. You’re through security.” And I didn’t realize how very terroristic that sounded until I read it again. But for a high-strung, non-affectionate person, security can be a very stressful thing. I’m usually ready to become a cutter by the time I get through the five different lines of people all anxious to be somewhere other than where they are. I really think the airport brings out the worst in people. I’ve seen too many moms with children in tow, ready to decapitate an airline employee at a moments notice. But I digress.

So Chris and I spent the next four hours drinking at the bar waiting for our flight. And not surprising at all, time flew. That’s the funny thing about drinking, time never feels wasted or slow when there’s a drink in hand. And ironically enough, that’s exactly how you feel after a few. Before we knew it, our flight was boarding. And so here we are, in the air on our way to Colorado Springs to enjoy the glorious event that is a wedding.

Yours truly,

S Fritz

Teen Mom Edish- What's good for the goose is good for the gander

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Welcome back into my life teen moms! I have missed you all dearly, I am elated to catch up on all of your lives and the drama that follows. Let's just dig right in!

Is Kyle slow? And with those three words, Ryan the dream boat came back into my life, guns loaded. But you can't really help him for asking, it's a legitimate question giving Kyle's errr looks. And is it me, or is Ryan getting more handsome and his accent getting more twangy every single day? He's a little devil that one. He's got this sly little smile that could make any teen mom weak in the knees. I'm thinking we've got a new Bachelor on our hands. And Maci is still completely smitten with him, I can tell just by the way she giggles and smiles around him. A normal girlfriend might have gotten a bit mad if her ex boyfriend called her current boyfriend slow, but she just batted her white eyelashes and giggled. I will say though, Maci looks good as a maraschino cherry blonde. That cartoon character red just wasn't working for her, throw in her Cheetoh stained orange palms and she was looking all sorts of confused last season. Kyle the Marshmallow man better hold onto her if he knows what's good for him or she might get picked up by another hottie.

A hottie like I dunno... Amber! Watch out hot women of reality TV Amber is busting on the scene. Guys are wanting her left and right, it was like a scene right out of the Hills when Amber and her gal friend were giggling about the phone call with creeper Chris begging her to come over and telling her he loves her. It might as well been Lo and LC sitting there in that crumbling house. She was like omg totally freaking out about having so many guys like her at once! Oh the troubles of being a superstar. I am sad to say her attitude and anger problems have not improved much. Here they were on a nice trip to a water park resort and she had to go and get all snotty and start cussing and throwing the gang signs. Gary is a real saint for putting up with that girl. How he can continue to tell her she's beautiful and a wonderful mother is beyond me. I wish April would meet Amber, because I know fo sho April wouldn't stand for any of Amber's shit. But I was happy to see Amber changed her mind and went ahead to the water park, because getting to go to an indoor water park just doesn't happen every day. And plus we were able to see Gary's sexy man hair cleavage when he took his shirt off.

I forgot what a little sweetheart Farrah is, a real angel. Her sassy attitude and witty comebacks like "oh, okay," and "yeah, I'm so sure," just never gets old. I feel like she has really matured this season. And a blossoming model career?! You know it. Farrah's book is impressssive. I can already hear the Garden Ridge and Gordmans calls coming in. It's too bad her hair show didn't turn out too well, I really thought it was going to be her big break. But at least it still gave her the chance to travel for the first time in her life, and also buy little Sophia a cute little Restaurant sweatshirt. It will be a nice momento for Sophia when she grows up to remember the weekend her mom left her to go model because she had just gotten her new boobs.

Last but certainly not least, my fav couple of all, April and Butch. I mean Catelynn and Tyler. And Catelynn is looking good this season, she's rocking a new haircut, and has finally lost the braces!! (and rubber bands.) But the real breakout this episode was the beauty queen sister, Amber! Somebody was excited to be on MTV! But I don't like any girl ganging up on my Catelynn. Cate has had enough shit in her life, I wish someone would just give this girl a break already. If Ty wants to move in with her well then let him, geesh! What's the worst that could happen? They have another baby? But what's with them looking at $400/month apartments? Um... loosen up the pockets, MTV. I know at least eleven other people who watch this show so that means there's got to be a lot more people, so these girls should be making enough per episode to afford at least a $600/month apartment. Really though, why are they all so broke? How is it that the Jersey Shore cast is all driving Range Rovers and BMWs and Catelynn can't afford a window that doesn't keep intruders from getting in? And just when I thought it couldn't get any better I saw the blanket. The blanket that I can only assume was a gigantic photo of the baby they gave up for adoption; Carly. Those two just continue to make me smile.

Well life just continues to get harder (easier) for these teen moms. As of now it appears Farrah is the only one with a job. And God knows modeling might be the hardest job of all. But I can really only hope for the best for these girls, guess we'll just have to wait to see what happens this season on Teen Mom.

Zanny the Nanny

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Sadly, all good things must come to an end, including a fun filled week at Walden's Summer Camp for girls. I certainly enjoyed myself, but by the end Lindsey Lohan's shenanigans were just too much. Does she have a twin? Doesn't she? Does she? Why was she constantly playing practical "jokes" on me? Placing cocaine in my jeans and then wearing them only to say "they weren't her jeans," stealing my jewelry, trying to get my bunkmates to jump in the lake naked with her. The final straw was definitely the hot tar and feather incident, but don't worry, I gave her a good curb stomping to even it up.

But enough fun, it's time to head back to the real world. I feel like I've been in a time warp for the past week. I even heard a rumor that the Casey Anthony trial came to a close. I haven't heard the final decision, but I can only assume Casey was presumed innocent. If there is anything just in our world that poor, sweet, monkey looking, woman better be let off. All the facts are there. She was partying when her daughter was "missing" because she was distraught, obviously. She lied to the cops because she forget that she didn't actually work at Universal, but visited there once and got confused what the difference is between visiting and working somewhere. It happens to all of us. And her car trunk smelled so bad because she left old beach towels in there (from her vacation to Universal.) If I had a dollar for every time I took out an old, wet beach towel from my trunk and thought, whoa this smells like a decomposing three year old, I'd have enough money to get a beautiful tattoo that says "Bella Vida" on my back. But I think we know who is at the root of all this: Zanny the Nanny, those words alone just reek of evil. She's a nasty old lady who speaks only in rhyme and flies from home to home with the aid of her umbrella, abducting children one at a time. She lures them first with the idea of getting away from their abandoning, slutty, single mom's who would prefer to not have children anyway, and then she steals them away forever and ever to her cottage made of Pop Rocks and Fun Dips buried deep in the forest. She's a sick woman that Zanny. And who is left to grieve? Sweet Casey. The lady whose hair grows magically fast and whose sloped nose, pug lips, and dumbo ears look strikingly similar to a Mickey Mouse character. Why the jury is wasting their time blaming an innocent woman while Zanny the Nanny is still on the loose is beyond me. Let’s start a manhunt already! A witch hunt! We need to check every rabbit hole, lily pad, and mountain rainbow until we find Zanny. We’ve wasted enough time already on these silly accusations about Casey table dancing a week after her daughter disappeared, or her lying to cops about where to look for Caylee, or about googling “how to kill your daughter and get away it” and “tattoo parlors open past 11:oo p.m.” in the same day. None of this matters. What matters is the truth. Zanny the Nanny must be found so the grieving mother who loved her daughter so much she virtually gave her the same name with the exception of one letter can have some justice. And now I’ve gone off on a tangent, whimsical child-killing-nannies always get my blood boiling.

Speaking of good mothers though, a little birdy told me the ODBs are back! The original teen moms and their Old Dirty Babies. Woo hoo! I’ve been waiting for my girls to come back since MTV took them off. When I saw a preview last week I literally got butterflies thinking about getting to see Catelynn and Tyler again! And maybe even that dreamboat RYAN! I read in US magazine that Amber is taking some time off in a rehab clinic in Malibu. I always took Amber for more of a Malibu gal anyway, she just has that look. And her little Leah has grown into a beautiful white trash toddler, she looks like a young Joe Dirt. I will also be anxious to see Farrah’s boob job this season and what celebrity endeavor she will be undertaking. Farrah and Macy are definitely the Laurens and Kristens of the Teen Moms. They’re going places.

As for me, well I’m heading back to my life in Chicago. Anybody know of someone hiring around here? I’ve got a background in knife skills and humiliating teenagers, I don’t work well with authority, and I’ll need one month off at Christmas and all of May, June, July and August. Get back to me.

Camp Anawanna

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe my stay at camp Anawanna is almost over! It’s gone so fast. I’m really going to miss this solitary lifestyle I’ve adapted to of living in a barren room with cold concrete walls and no television and spending all day and night typing away on my computer words that only come from my soul, “all work and no play makes Tay a dull girl.” I’ve wrote that same line over and over and it still continues to move me every time. The bareness of the room finally got to me last night so I decided to paint REDRUM on every empty space, I think it really gives the room a quaint Hamptons feel.

The other day I was sitting by my favorite windmill typing away at my screenplay when all of the sudden I looked up and there was a deer no more than four feet away. Having just watched “When Animals Attack” a week ago, I got a bit nervous. I immediately called my friend Sarah and asked, “do deer charge?” She responded quickly with, “no, and is it really a deer?” “Yes, I said.” “Don’t worry,” she responded, “it’s just a character from True Blood, he’s trying to freak out.” Phew. As long as it wasn’t that creepy blonde girl with the embarrassingly large space between her two front teeth, I wasn’t too worried. I told the deer to buzz off and he did. A couple hours later I started walking to the tent to get my one free drink. It’s about 9:15 at this point, it’s a dark foggy night, pretty eerie I’d say. But since I’ve adjusted to this lifestyle it didn’t really bother me anymore, that is until I saw the deer again. So I said, “deer, what do you want?” He just looked at me and didn’t move. So it was either I had to cross him on the walking path, or he had to move. I started walking, he kept staring, I kept walking. By now I’m getting pissed. Who does he think he is to block the walking path? Billy Goat Gruff? Is there a troll near by? I said screw it and called his bluff, to my relief he ran. But this isn’t the end of my weird incidences for the night. After my one free drink I went back to the dorms to watch the stanky ocean air off of me. Half way through my shower the lights turn off in the bathroom. Being naked in the dark in a public place is a very scary thing. I’ve seen enough horror movies, and by seen I mean I’ve seen the previews for enough horror movies to know that someone was out there ready to kill me. Or the eco friendly motion censured lights had turned off…Either was a bad thing. I ran out of the shower completely naked and to my relief the lights turned on. So for the remainer of my shower I continued to shake my leg outside of the curtain every once in a while to ensure the lights remained on. My plan was working, or so I thought, turns out I hadn’t heard someone else enter the bathroom to put on their makeup in front of the mirror. So as this person was applying their makeup, every two minutes or so I can only assume they would see my bare wet leg hitch kick from inside the shower a couple of feet behind them. But that’s the good thing about being at a camp with thespians and actooors and writers, not too much fazes them.

Tonight we have a panel discussion featuring the director of… drum roll please… TWILIGHT!!! OMG. I just wish I had seen one of these movies prior to coming here so I could better understand what he’s talking about. I imagine he’s a pretty legit guy, this has got to be comparable to meeting the director of Harry Potter or Death Becomes Her. Talk about a great Saturday night!

Love always,
Kirstin Kristen Beester Bister

Day 2- Shutter Island

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Dear Diary,

Somebody get me a black beret and a freckly, red headed girlfriend because I am basically a full-blown writer. Shit just got real weird around here. I just came from a “Acting for Writers” course where we were all encouraged to recall a time in our life when we felt especially alive or free. Naturally two events came to mind, the Norfolk 6th Grade Track Meet where I was basically MVP and had the best damn meet of my life, and the day I was let out of my medical study and spent the afternoon frolicking and skipping around campus just happy to be alive and not surrounded by meth addicted homeless people. I went with option two. So then the assignment was to act out this event not using any words but using exaggerated body movements instead. Let me paint you a picture of what this looked like: there is 20 of us in a small room, ages ranging from 24 (me) to age 65, men and women from all homosexual walks of life. Like I said, this is when shit started to get real weird. Everyone starts moving around the room swaying their arms and legs like they’re in an invisible ribbon dancing competition. I froze, this isn’t my kind of deal. The teacher kept encouraging me to “move! Let your body take over, free yourself!” Unfortunately, my mind is ten times more powerful than my body and would never let it look like such a douche bag regardless of what everyone else was doing. The best I could come up with was a hoolah like dance where I waved my arms in front of me and shuffled my feet around the room with my head glued to the ground like I was Rain Man. But I still like to think I came away with more pride than the woman with the curly hair who needed a bra who called herself an “actoor,” not just an actor, but an act-ooor. This specific woman is also getting her Masters in poetry. Great plan, if there is one thing the job market is lacking today it has got to be poets. She used the word “idear” when describing various things about herself. Spare the self-description, using the word “idear” says plenty about a person. I’ll place it in the category with the others who say things like “uman”instead of human, and mattur, instead of mature.

But all cynicism aside, day two has gone pretty swell. I don’t want to boast, but I’ve even made a few friends here. We’ve got a group. We sit together at breakfast, lunch and dinner and save each other spots when we go to various panel discussions and film reviews. My new friends are from Dartmouth, Harvard and Columbia… And it was so funny because the two guys from Harvard and Columbia were joking about how they always feels like such assholes saying they’re from Columbia and Harvard when people ask what college they went to. Naturally, I chimed in and told them I knew exactly what they were talking about. Nebraska is right up there, and I hate to sound pompous but it’s where I went, and that’s just how it is so we might as well all accept it. We all shared quite a smugish chuckle over this. And then things got really rowdy last night at the reception as we were all sipping on our one free complimentary drink. Give some writers free wine and an alternative-hippy brand beer and things are bound to get a little out of control. Although I hate when I have to consciously sip my drink slowly when I’m around new people who do not drink as fast as I do. Especially last night when we didn’t get our one free drink until 9:15 p.m.! About half way through dinner at 5:30 I started getting the shakes wondering where the hell bar was. I don’t need to drink, I just prefer it. And besides, I don’t need to make excuses. Anybody who uses that condescending line, “what, do you need alcohol to have fun?” obviously doesn’t drink, or obviously isn’t fun. I had my one free drink at 9:00 and was fine after that.

This has been my first break all day from sitting in class and I’ve surprisingly enjoyed myself. If I can figure out a way to go back to school in the fall to get my Masters in screenwriting well by golly I’m gonna do it. Because if there’s one thing this job market needs besides poets, it’s screenwriters. Right now at this moment I am sitting on the porch at what is called “the old Mansion” on campus. It sits on the highest peak and has a gorgeous view of the ocean. And yes, it’s as creepy as it sounds. So even though I love the scenic view, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder wondering at what moment I am going to take a rusty axe in my back. So I think it’s time I go.


Day 1- Camp Hampton

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Dear Diary,

I hate to say it, but so far camp has been off to a rough start. The campus where the camp is held isn’t as close to town as I hoped, it’s only actually three miles but around here that equals a $20 cab ride. Normally when on vacation this wouldn’t be a problem, I’d just hand around my resort. But the campus I’m staying at isn’t as resorty as I thought it would be. It is very quaint I’ll give it that, but quaint in a Shutter Island kind of way… The village of Southampton is everything I expected and more. It’s very humbling to walk around a town where literally every single home is a mansion, literally it’s insane. But I can’t figure out why these people need all that space because they are all tiny. The women are anorexic thin and the men stand below six feet. I feel like a real fast ass around here. Not to my mention my cute shabby chic scarves and sweaters I picked up from Nordstrom Rack and H&M for this trip now just look Shabby Shitty. My outfits were just fine a week ago, but now they look all faded and raggy. I’ve gone into a few of the stores here but I get that Pretty Woman feeling, like all the store workers can just tell I’m a Nebraska hooker. I found a J Crew here, but even that is more expensive than usual. It’s called J Crew Beach, and it features beachwear starting around $200. Thank God I didn’t bring my Target Beach attire. I tried to walk to the beach, I heard it’s supposed be gorgeous, that’s what everyone keeps telling me. But sometimes I think people here I’m from Nebraska and they just instantly assume I’ve never been to a beach, they all seem to think it’s going to be a real treat for me like I’m just going to go off my rocket with excitement of getting to see dat big ol bunch of water for da first time. “Oh you’ve got to go to the beach! You’ll love it!” It’s a beach, what’s the big deal. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy going to the beach every once in a while, but it’s really nothing more than a glorified lake if you ask me. So anyway, I start walking down a neighborhood toward the beach. House after house has front yards the size of a college campus and back yards I can’t even begin to see. The sidewalk runs out so I start walking on the street. The streets are huge with gigantic trees hanging over so it’s a pretty scenic walk. Well suddenly the street ends and I can see the beach is going to start, but the beach is lined with huge gated homes and I can’t see a way in. It’s about this time I realize I’m the only person walking on this street without a mop and broom in hand… And probably the only person with an American citizenship. Not wanting to get forced into a work camp I decided I might as well turn back. So back to the village I go to catch a $20 taxi back to campus.

The campus sits high on top of a hill where I’m told you can see the ocean when it’s not foggy, which so far it has been all of the time. The buildings are old and have that grey east cost beach look. The dorm I’m staying in is called Shelter Island, a little to coincidental if you ask me. Have you ever stayed in a dorm alone? Not just a room, but like the entire dormitory? Well I had to last night since I made the dumbass choice to fly in a day early. It was the scariest night of my life. Luckily, I took my mom’s advice and went for a lovely liquid dinner and popped a few pain pills on the way home so I was able to sleep a good thirteen hours. I would wake up sporadically through out the night, but as soon as I would see I was facing a white cold cement wall and remember where I was I shut my eyes again. It was a blurry confusing night. I had dreams jumping back and forth between my brief stay at MDS medical center and moments where I thought I was in the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. I went from Nurse Ratched forcing drugs down my throat with a young Jack Nicholson and Danny Devito screaming shit in the background to a white trash MDS nurse sticking me with needles. Meanwhile the light from the lighthouse just outside my window was constantly seeping in begging me to peak outside and take a look. But I knew one look outside was all it would take for me to see the dead children who had drowned in the ocean because of the lighthouse. It was one of those nights when daylight couldn’t come fast enough.

The conference begins today around 4:00 p.m. So again I’ve spent the day in town wandering around pretending I’m a local. I’ve realized New York people are like me on steroids. I know I can be pushy and demanding, but these people are much more than that. I had a 70 year old grandma try to cut me today at the café. Oh, hells no. I may be a country hick but I’m not about to let a dark haired Mrs. Goldstein push me aside, the Holocaust is over, there’s enough food to go around. Time to head back, it's almost 4:00 p.m., hoping to meet some new friends tonight at the welcome banquet.

Judy Bloom

Our Country Tis of Thee, Sweet Land of Binge Drinking.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

And the everlasting 4th of July weekend has come to a close. It was our 235th Independence holiday celebration I’m told. I like to picture our Founding Fathers, George Washington, James Madison, Benjamin Franklin and Carl Pelini sitting around smoking cigars reflecting on what it is they just accomplished. They surely had to realize the hugeness of it all. How in years to come, thanks to them, their great, great, great x100 grandchildren would now have an even better reason to binge drink and eat for days on end. We would spend thousands of dollars emulating the same bright explosions that killed so many people, but instead we would turn the explosions into pretty heart designs and crackling stars. Separating ourselves from the Brits would mark the end of not only bad teeth and well mannered accents, but it would mark the beginning of a holiday devoted entirely to outdoor activities requiring a beer in hand no matter what time of day. I think our Fathers would be proud. How couldn’t they be? I saw so many acts of patriotism this week whether it was watching the fireworks in Fremont while the entire drunken Flynn boat yelled things like “Amurica!!! Shit ya!” “Get it!!!” “USA USA USA!” to Facebook statuses boasting how great how our country is and how happy everyone is to celebrate such a wonderful occasion in their little red, white and blue getups. What’s not to love about such a great country, we seriously are the best. It’s just what it is.

So how does one recover after such a wonderful time with friends and family? Well I don’t know about you, but I’m jetting off to the Hamptons to rejuvenate for the week. What? You’ve never been? It’s just gorgeous, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else this time of year. I mean I’m assuming that’s how it will be, I haven’t actually arrived yet. I’m still enroute, I’m actually on the plane right now having arm battles with the woman next me. I realize our country is overweight, and it’s most likely a little worse today given the weekend we’ve just had, but if I can’t even type on my computer because my own arm is tucked so tightly to my side that’s just not fair. Arms a tough spot for ladies, we’ve all suffered from a bad case of fat-arm in pictures I understand this, but what grinds my chain is that this lady seems to expect that I just give up 20% of my seat to her. She hasn’t budged one inch since I’ve started slowly grinding my arm into hers. Same rules of roller coasters apply on planes, keep arms and legs in your own damn space at all times. Perhaps I should tell her she is more than welcome to relax onto my side as long as she offers to pay me 20% of my ticket. I don’t think that’s so out of line. I’d like to eat sausage and biscuits for breakfast every morning too, but I don’t, I eat Special K just to ensure I don’t invade anyone else’s space on an airplane. At least I know I can rely on the comedic Southwest flight attendants to keep me laughing the entire flight with their witty jokes and entertaining banter. “Get the oxygen mask for yourself first, and then choose your favorite child to do next.” Too funny! “Remove all small bags, purses and children from the front pockets.” He did it again! Children in the front pocket? Oh that’s too much. And my favorite, “let’s talk about swimwear,” as he starts talking about using the seat cushions as flotation devices. I’d sure love to see the jokes the flight attendants have for when we’re actually crashing, I bet that has to be some of their best material! “The good thing is we’re crashing into water, but the bad thing is fuel is leaking so chances are the plane will burn us all long before we land, but everybody loves to come home from vacay with a good crispy tan!” Oh Southwest, free baggage and free jokes.

So anyway, I think my favorite part of going to the Hamptons this week is being able to update my status as “Going to the Hamptons.” In the Midwest Facebook circuit, that’s just not a status we see a lot so I know it’s gonna be a real eye catcher. Almost as good as a Europe status. Loyal Facebook stalkers are immediately going to wonder why I am going, who I am going with, will I be “checking in” frequently and posting pics so ensure ample creeping time? You betcha! But the shitty part is that I already tried to post a status (obviously) but my janky cracked iphone just stopped half way through and went blank. In fear of posting the same status twice, which is like so embar, I haven’t been able to post. The only thing worse than posting twice is posting something spelled wrong the first time, and then having to correct it and post it again. Because once it’s on the mini feed everybody sees it, and you know they’re all laughing at you thinking, “that idiot just screwed up their status and had to post it again, what an idiot!” Or maybe that’s just me. But I assure you, that statuses will come, I am coming out here all alone so naturally I will have to turn to my online friends for social interaction/to boast about how cool it is wherever I go. You may remember a few months ago when I arrogantly posted about how “I got accepted into a screenwriting conference in NY!” Well this is that conference. For the next six days I will be surrounded by literary scholars like myself, spending all hours of the day learning about screenplays and writing screenplays. I will be using words like literary, emphasis, and synopsis. I am going to wear dark clothing and frequently quote people like Nathaniel Hawthorne, Virginia Woolf and Hilary Duff. This is going to be my chance to shine, to make up for all of those quiet years I spent sitting in the corner of my English classes too nervous to speak because of all the smug bastards in my classes at UNL who judged me for often coming to class hungover/still drunk and covered in sorority letters. Well forget them. If I know anything about East Coast people they’re not judgmental or smug. Not one bit. I plan on coming home with at least ten new pen pals from the Hamptons this week. Yup, ten pen pals and a contract with a someone who has a lot of money who would like to pay me to write movies for them. I’m not sure at this point which will be harder to attain. Believe it or not, I tend to get a little “shy” when I meet new people in an unfamiliar place, and in a sober environment. But I am going to try my best to break out of this shell.

Well, just got the announcement it’s time to turn off all electronics. I would sure hate to be the person responsible for causing the plane to crash on account of my Mac. Those damn electronics and their terrorist like ways. See you in the Hamptons, Facebook.