12 posts tagged “rants”

I would like to start this by saying that I grew up loving Barbara Walters. In third grade, my class stood around in our classroom's book corner and our teacher Miss. Hooper showed us a picture of BW from the 70s and said "This is a very important woman". I still remember that quite clearly. There's no denying she's had a long and successful career and, especially during her early years, she was a trailblazer.

All of that being said, I really would like to urge her to throw in the towel. Maybe it's ageism, but I don't really think so. I think she's just too "in it" and has been for too long. She's completely unrelatable at this point. Her political correctness drives me nuts, but mainly becasue every PC sentence out of her mouth is just DRIPPING with judgment. Barbara, you're seventy-something. Maybe it's time to share an opinion, like, actually. Not with your eyes and posture, but with words. Actual words. Winking and nudging at the audience is as blatant as just saying what you mean, so just say it already.

Also, and my good friends have heard me say it before, she is no longer helping The View serve its purpose anymore. I swear to God she only goes on three times a week to clear her name or clarify something she was misquoted on. Every time she's on she has some public statement she needs to make to clear the air, most typically when she is accused of having a strong opinion on any given topic. The show is called The View, not The Agenda, Barbara. You should know that.

I realize that all of these things I'm complaining about are habits that are a result of her news background. But she doesn't deliver the news as an anchor anymore. She does her interviews and the View and an occasional primetime special, all of which are dripping with her personal touch... but why can't she just say it? I think the fact that one of Barbara Walters' (one of the most respected and cherished news personalities of all time) biggest hurdles in life appearsy to be "honesty" speaks volumes about how information is reported to us. It should be some sort of gigantic red flag to everyone.

I'm watching a little 90210 right now and the episode where Emily Valentine sneaks extacy into Brandon's drink at the club is on. Bomb episode. Also known as the "I'd like to exchange an egg" episode. You with me?

OK, so there's a scene the day after Brando inadvertently dropped an e-bomb where he wakes up and has a heart to heart with Brenda, who is very concerned that her brother has done drugs. Brandon goes into this whole schpeel about how drugs are for people who need to forget about their real problems, but drugs just create more real problems and the only way to chase them away is with more drugs unless you're a strong person, blah blah suckadick. First of all, this scene kind of makes me hate Brandon because like, of course he's such a know-it-all. Of course, one night of taking a party drug makes you an expert on narcotics and why people use them. It's ridiculous that this is how they chose to have his character respond to the issue. Dude got drugged by his girlfriend at the club. A moment of being completely humbled is due-- that's all I'm saying.

Oh, no, I'm saying one more thing, too: Brenda, that selfish bitch, has the uhhh---gayest reaction ever. This is what goes down after Brandon does his whole thing about drugs being for the weak and stupid:

Brenda: You know what I was really afraid of?
Brandon: What?
Brenda: That you'd changed.

Seriously. I'm heated about this. Not because I think that the message they are trying to give is wrong but that it's because it's so poorly written. Brandon's character can totally have that moment of shame. Remember when he bought that bad Mustang?

Anyway. I'm done here and now I need to be done watching this show or I will pop a blood vessel in my face. For those of you who are still reading, here's a fun fact:  I'm being interviewed by Al Jazeera at 2:30 tomorrow afternoon. Yup. Really. They are coming to my house to interview me about the Oscars. Unless they cancel. I kind of can't believe it.

Does anyone else wonder how a song as shitty as the Plain White T's Hey There Deliliah manages to get played on the radio enough times to become a number one hit? It has to be one of the lamest, douchiest songs I've ever heard. Surely people aren't actually requesting to hear this contrived piece of shit... right? I mean, look at the lyrics:

Hey there Delilah
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
I swear it's true

Hey there Delilah
Don't you worry about the distance
I'm right there if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice it's my disguise
I'm by your side

Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
Oh it's what you do to me
What you do to me

That's only the first half of the song. I couldn't be bothered to copy and paste the rest.

Here are some solid reasons to hate this song:

First, I think that words were more eloquently strung together in my sixth grade poetry class. The  "Times Square" line really gets me because, ya know, Times Square is really bright! This must be a phenomenally bright lady! Or like... ya know, the dude who wrote this is a complete IDIOT and picked one of the most obvious comparisons that exists. Perhaps "The Eiffel Tower when they have it all decorated with a million tiny lights for Christmas and it's nighttime" was too long. Also, if she's in New York, wouldn't it be appropriate to compare her to something where he is? Because if she's shining brighter than Time Square, it would probably be pretty lucrative for her to stick around in NY for awhile. He's not doing a very good job of convincing her to care about him and his lame acoustic guitar.

Secondly, what the fuck DOES she do to this guy. We spend the whole long listening to his lame smilies and metaphors and he never gets to the point. If what she "does" to him is inspire him to write lame songs about his feelings, well then... awesome, Delilah. Thanks for contributing to the problem, bitch. There should be rules with this kind of music. If you can't kill it with the tune, then you kill it with the lyrics. Rape victims with guitars figured this out a really long time ago. Even someone like John Mayer gets props because he's managed to at least try and write interesting lyrics over slightly interesting acoustic jams. (83 - Whatever happened to my lunch box/when came the day that it got/thrown away and don't you think I should have had some say/in that decision). People, the Plain White T's music is pretty self-serving of them to be putting out there, more than any other music I can ever think of hearing (even worse than ballads about how hard it is to be rich and famous). Granted all musicians are somewhat self-serving in ther endevors, but usually they are presented to us with the idea that they were written to be shared with US, the general listening population. I feel like I'm listening to the emo love letters of a suburban white boy that failed high school English.  No one is moved by this shit, and if you are, you are fourteen and you will feel deceived when you hear this song in ten years and you realize that no, you couldn't relate to it the way you thought you could and that no, love is not what you imagined it to be and that these dudes are in fact big babies.

Thirdly, a friend told me that this song is about the lead singer's friend's ex-girlfriend who he only met a few times. Um, weeeiirrrrddd.

I don't really have guilty pleasures, mainly because I challenge their existence (See: This Chuck Klosterman essay), but there are a few things I won't admit I enjoy immediately when meeting a person. These things include the major motion picture A Walk to Remember, Kelly Clarkson and E!'s The Girls Next Door. While the first two are arguably more embarrassing than a television show chronicling the exploits of Playboy bunnies, I still cringe when telling someone for the first time, "yeah, I saw that episode, too".

Get it? There's three of them and they are also IN a three!

It actually is a pretty decent show, as far as celebreality goes. It's not Anna Nicole, but there's a lot more substance there than you might get with say, Run's House, the most awful show to ever air on television, ever (Oh, and can we chat for a second about how Rev Run is constantly making noises that can only really be described as uhhhh, well, "retard noises"? What the fuck is wrong with him? Does he really want his message to be "I am a faithful, hardworking musical genius and family man... who also loves cracking a good 'tard joke"? I think fucking not, Rev Run. Reconsider some things.) GND is pretty great mainly because the three women are so different from each other and so different from everyone else on the planet. I wouldn't say they are all dumb (except Kendra, who is definitely dumb), there is just a slight alien-like quality about each one of them, as if they are just a little bit extra removed from the real world than the average spacey/weird person.

I've been thinking tonight a little bit about what these women would have done with themselves if it wasn't for Hugh Hefner. I decided that Bridget would have been OK no matter what, Holly would have been a high-class stripper, and Kendra would work at a Sav-On until she met a nice husband who let her dyke out on weekends and drink all the orange soda she ever wanted from the comfort of their Jennifer Convertible.  There's some serious pros and cons of being one of Hef's girlfriends, too. It could either make you or break you, depending on how well-off you were before he scooped you up. If you started out as a former drug-addict who just spent all your savings on a new pair of tits (Kendra), then Hef is going to boost you up in the world. This is a fact. If you are a lively, somewhat intelligent woman interested in furthering your education at any cost and raising a family some day (Bridget), then maybe you should reconsider shacking up with the oldest perv in the game.

Hef with his full face of casket-ready make-up

Here are the pros and cons I can think of (nothing's thought out, I'll probably think of more and edit them in later):

Pro: In becoming a Hefner GF, you are officially a part of American pop-culture history. A seedy, specialized part of history, but nonetheless...
Con: In becoming a Hefner GF, you are automatically labeled a faux-polygamist slut by a great deal of the population. Do with that what you will.
Pro: You get to live in the Playboy mansion, a beautiful and historical estate.
Con: The Playboy Mansion supposedly ain't what it used to be. First of all, it looks like it smells like an old man's house. Probably because a very old and rigid man lives there. He may fuck 20 year olds, but Hef's just as much of a cranky senior citizen as your great aunt who yells at you for leaving the house without an undershirt on. You can bet that the entire time he's railing you, he is discussing the details of his last bowel movement and how he can't believe how much the electric bill is. Secondly, the majority of the house is still decorated the way it was when it was first built. One can imagine that 40 year-old orange shag carpeting isn't as fab as it once was.
Pro: You get a ton of free shit. Lingerie, jewlery, hair, make-up, cars, clothing...
Con: In exchange for the free stuff, you have to be photographed naked and have sex with an 80 year old man.  In all seriousness, it really just depends on how much a life-time supply of pasties is worth to you.
Pro: Many American men still idealize the quintessential Playboy Bunny-- blond hair, fake boobs, tiny waists and wit that falls between medium bright and dim. You'd undeniably be worshiped in most workplaces that have cement floors (repo lots, auto shops and anything of mill-like in nature) and prisons.
Con: Androgyny's been in for a minute, homegirls. Us flat chested bitches are just getting our chance. Drag queens wont be taking over in the mainstream for a couple seasons at least (but yes, they've been on their way in for awhile now). Point is: you'll be re-touching those roots for at least another year before the masses start to take notice of you again.

Honestly? I like that Bridget has a little meat on her bones... Whore bones.

I realize that I sound pretty hateful. I'm actually not at all (heck, I've even admitted to wanting to skank it up for Dov Charney.) I kind of actually like these women, but it's just pretty clear to me that what they do would never be right for me, despite all the time I spend thinking about how easy it would be to get up, throw on some nipple tassels and already be at work.

It's a pretty good show. You should watch it.

Why does the world hate juice?

Reply to: pers-463698828@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-29, 10:13PM PDT

Just an honest question. Not being anti-pulp.

Where to get hot chicks and easy pusy!!

Reply to: pers-463712836@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-29, 10:39PM PDT

Westfeild mall at Topanga!!

My bud told me he'd been getting loads of poon at the mall! Mostly hot married chix that shop all day.I nailed 2 this week,one thurs,and one saturday. Incredible!! these girls are rich and hot and bored silly. and they Pick ME up! I did one in my van and then she went home,awesome fast and furious and cuuuute!!

Check it out guys,the only problem is the day time hours are the best,they dont work they just shop!! I'll be back tuesday!!

Again White Women please stop hitting on me

Again this is the OP from last week and I have a few more things to say, upon returning from my trip I decided to read some of the responses. Mr. sleeze bag lawyer http://losangeles.craigslist.org/wst/rnr/460639424.html from Century City really pissed me off. Let me start by saying I already have a deep dislike for lawyers, you people bar none are the slimiest people in any profession. Mr. Century City lawyer I know exactly who you are, I pass by your office everyday on my way home when I take Santa Monica Blvd, you're over there off of Ave of The Stars right? I already have a picture of you in my head, you stand about 6 ft, you have a jew fro and you drive a Toyota Prius. You're a very conservative man and thats why you buy your suits from the Hollywood suit outlet and your shoes from the clearance rack at JC Penny's.

How dare you come here and call me a lier, I hate when people accuse me of lying especially when they don't even know me. Have you ever heard the phrase "The only thing a man has in this world is his word and his dick", and I'm a man of my word white boy. In you post you stated that white women only go for black men who are athletes or lawyers, thats fucking bullshit white boy, I'm neither and your women flock to me every day of the week. With that being said I'm not going to turn this into a racial issue, if you want to stereotype me based on the color of my skin then that's your business, we're approaching 2008 and racism is boring to me. Oh look a sucessful black man that has money has to be a rapper or an athlete, I know we don't go to college and become sucessful not black people right? Go right ahead and keep believing your stereotypes, sit back and watch sucessful black people as myself continue to push you whites out of affluent neighborhoods such as Marina and Playa Del Rey. Now that's enough with this racial bullshit that's another topic, let's get back to the oringinal subject here.

White women are evil, cold blooded savage monsters, you should know that already white boy what field do you work in. Take a day of one day and go to downtown LA and visit one of the divorce court rooms, from there you can see first hand what your money grubbing women are doing to men on a dialy basis. Since you're a lawyer you should have a little intelligence right? why don't answer this question for me Mr. Century City lawyer. I want you to explain to me how marrying a white woman raises my social status, I love it when I hear that, infact that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my life. Sorry to inform you white boy but women of all other races can be and are just as hot as any white woman. Look at Corporate America, besides Martha Stewart and Suzanne Summers name another White Woman who has broken through the Corporate Paradigm. C'mon now, what has the American White woman done historically to contribute to society, very little. There you have the 2 women I mentioned above, Donna Karen and a couple of other clothing designers and thats about it. Oh my bad I forgot Betsy Ross, yeah she invented the American Flag whoopie doo. Most of the wealthiest White women in this country have done absolutely nothing to acquire their wealth, these women have married into money or they were born with rich parents. Look at your home girl Paris Hilton, this woman is worth 300 million dollars and she doesn't even know how to use a microwave, sad. White women in most cases aren't even on a equal pay scale work wise, if I as a male get replaced by a white women she will probably earn 70-80% of what I made, now who's the superior one now. Marrying a white woman adds absolutely zero value to my social status, you're a delusional douche bag so keep on dreaming.

My best friend of 21 years made the biggest mistake of his life by marrying a white woman. When I see what happened to him it hits close to home, I have known this man for since I was 7 years old and he's like an older brother to me. My friend, my buddy had everything going on for him, as a sucessful realtor he earned over 150k a year. Marrying this white women did nothing but shatter all of his dreams. After 3 years of marriage and one child later this woman decides that she wants a divorce, her reasoning for this was that she felt she married too quickly and she wasn't ready to settle down, you know its all about her. Fuck the hubby, fuck the kid, me me me. This divorce was one of the nastiest I've ever witnessed, I was shocked as I attended some of the court hearings, it hurt me to see this woman tell the judge that $3800 a month was not enough for her to take care of the kid. This is the type of shit that really pisses me off. My friend is not a happy person anymore, this is not the guy I've knew for the last 21 years, he's a zombie now, he depressed. Not only did this woman rape him financially but raped him emotionally, she took his soul. My buddy has nothing to look foward to, yeah he can see the kid on the weekend but that's about it. Everyday he wakes up and goes to work knowing that for the next 15 years he will be nothing more than a human atm machine, It takes an evil, twisted sick person to do the type of shit this woman did. FUCK YOU WHITE BITCH, you ruined my friend's life, you took his soul, you raped him of his dignity. This is real lfe stuff here Mr. Century City lawyer, I don't have make this up I've seen and experienced it first hand. Thank god I never made the mistake of marrying your kind. When I'm at Trader Joe's and the white women hit on me all I see is little hands coming out of their forehaed, just like the movie aliens, remember that movie? On the side of these hands I see little pop up messages that say me me me me me me arrrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhh, money money money aarrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh, I I I aaaaaaarrrrgggghhhhhhhh, I may need some medication, I can't be that fucked up in the head...

White women want 2 things from me, my cock and my money, they want to have their cake and eat yours too, its all about them. White woman have no family values and would sell their soul's in a New York minute for a Prada bag or a pair of Dolce & Gabanna shoes. I'm going to end on this note, listen I have nothing to prove to any of you, I'm not going to keep going back and forth about this everything I said today and the other day is the truth, I don't give a shit if any of you don't believe me. Mr. Century City lawyer please do me a favor, I want to print out this post along with the one I wrote the other day and make a couple of hundred copies. I want you to hand a copy to all of those grredy white women in your office, better yet give em to security down stairs so that he can give a copy to every white woman who steps into your building. You my friend are barking up the wrong tree, I consider myself to be the cockiest muthafucker on this planet, I have fucked so many of your women I can't even put a count on it, I don't count the one's that I shoot down on a daily basis. For the last time goddammit tell your women to stop hitting on me I'm not interested, Your women are narcissistic, money grubbing self entilted monsters, and guess what white boy it's all your fault.

Have a nice day Goobers

1) Stop motion student films.

Someone from London once told me that if you're British and you like Lily Allen, you're like the equivalent of a 40-something American male Backstreet Boys fan. I really hope that's not true... how could it be? Lily Allen's real fun and cute, right? She writes great little songs. Fuck that guy, huh?

I guess the idea of an older male Backstreet Boys fan reminded me of that show Fanatic that used to be on MTV. Do you remember that show? Celebrities would meet their number one fans and the fans would get to interview their idol? That scenario kind of just happened to me with Girl Talk, so now that I'm older I can see why getting to interview your idol is really cool, but as a middle schooler watching this show I remember thinking that it would be a lot cooler if they got to make out with their idol instead of awkwardly chatting. I got a little sidetracked there, but I was initially thinking about the episode of Fanatic with Hanson.

Hanson was hot when I was in 8th grade. I was ashamed to admit that I used to like them for years, but I have done so many more monumentally embarrassing things since then, copping to Hanson fanship is small beans.  I guess the main reason I have not to feel bad is that I was a thirteen year old girl, and bad judgement was expected of me at the time. This brings me back to the Hanson Fanatic. The person they picked as the number one Hanson fan was far from a teenager and far from a girl. They picked some 40-something man. No joke.

This dude was apparently obsessed with Hanson because some person died and their music was soothing to him. Um, hello? If this show was airing in 2007, the only Hansen on stage would be named Chris and the program would be called "To Catch a Predator". This year's VMAs were like a modern day version of that Fanatic episode. "Let's take dangerously mentally ill person and allow them to toe the line of sanity by introducing all their vices to them on stage in front of millions." You can't bring a pedophile to three teenaged blond boys just like you can't bring Britney to Vegas. It's entrapment. 

Boys in Los Angeles suck. Let me break it down for you....

Most of the dudes I meet out at night fall under the category of "Souless Hollywood Douchebags". There's this thing that happens to you when you live in this city for a prolonged period of time. Most people think that it only applies to industry types, but it's spread to the masses. What happens is this: you arrive in LA with a smile on your face and a song in your heart. You are approachable and kind. Then you meet enough people like the person you will eventually turn into and you trade your soul away because it's easier than trying to make it as yourself. After awhile, you will lie to your friends to smooth things over, cheat on your girlfriend and manage to muster up a list of reasons it was justifiable and stab your co-workers in the back to get ahead. This is the Los Angeles way of life, and this is what will happen to you if you allow it.

What is talking to a person like this in a bar like? Mind numbing. They want to talk about work and only work, which is fine... but they've somehow convinced themselves that they are important enough to be elusive when discussing whatever it is they do. Example:

Me: What do you do for a living?
Him: I direct.
Me: Films?
Him: Yes.
Me: Cool. I studied film in college. What kind of movies do you make?
Him: Small ones. Art movies.
Me: Totally.
Him: I don't really like to talk about what I do.
Me: OK, so what do you do for fun?
Him: Work.

Is that my cue to suck your dick in the bathroom? I don't get it.  If you were someone reasonably important, I can understand a stand-offish attitude about work, but "small art movie director" doesn't exactly put dollar signs in my eyes and send my heart racing. So why the 'tude? Because after living like a Souless Hollywood Douchebag for several years, you have a sense of self-importance that forbids you to relate to other human beings, even the ones you are trying to get into bed.

Obviously  these guys aren't the only problem. There are law school students who have yet to feel the burn of the real world, the boys who live off their parents and think I'm too jaded, the guys who are clearly too intelligent and successful to speak to the girl who pounded three cans of beer in the car before she even stepped foot in the bar (that'd be me).  Then there are the scenesters that can't see past my side part and Louis bag, the hipsters that are so broke and unmotivated that their issues would become mine, the gay boys who are so beautiful it's unfair, the unemployed actors who try desperately to convince you that they are decent people, and the has-beens who try and convince you they used to be someone. You can't mention any of these people without noting the boys who are new in town and still think LA is the shit, the Cholos whose pick-up lines sound like threats, the post-grads who still have Frat boy mentality... Los Angeles can feel like a pretty sad and desperate place when you are constantly confronted by people who are impossible to respect.

Ed and I have been talking recently about feelings of rejection, how bad it feels when you want someone who doesn't want you back. It's all very middle school. If there was a girl who I wanted to be friends with and she didn't like me I'd be over it, so why can't I think about guys that way?

I went on a date recently with a guy I met at an event I went to for work. He was all rugged and sexy...  He pulled up to meet me on a motorcycle. He was dirty in the perfect way-- like he hadn't showered in a hot minute, but you wouldn't need a tetanus shot if you were to make out with him.  I like my man to look and smell like he's been building houses all day, you know? It was kind of perfect, minus the fact that he clearly was not into me.

I will be the first to admit I sabotage myself on a regular basis when it comes to dudes. When I woke up that day and invited him out for coffee with me, I actually thought to myself, "dont go out of your way to look decent for this guy, because if he can't handle how you throw yourself together, then he can't deal with you, period." Fucked up, right? Anyway... I could tell he didn't think I was as cute as he remembered and I thought to myself "OK, good. You've proven this dude can't hack it. Fuck him...", but now I can't help but wonder what would have happened had I put a moment of effort into my appearance. I guess as a bottom line, I don't care. I was able to discern from a phone convo he had in front of me that he is probably a drug dealer. Not even a weed dealer...  it sounded like perhaps he was ordering multiple bricks of something, and things that come in bricks are usually pretty serious. Maybe it was weed, but usually if you want weed you're just all "Hey, I want some weed" and don't try and speak in some broke down code.

How did I get into all of that? When I sat down to write, I was planning on this being somewhat of a rant about these two ridiculously hot and intelligent seeming dudes who were sitting next to me at Snake Pit last night but never talked to me. Ed and I were sitting there thinking "Oooo, boyfriends!" but their prerogative clearly involved drinking Miller Lights and staring at each others faces. Whatever, it probably wouldn't work. I can't hang with Miller Light boys, anyway.

I hate MySpace profiles. Ever since I was selected at UCB to be a part of one of their MySpace shows, I have avoided that site like the plague. You see, I've realized something about MySpace that perhaps took me a moment too long, but there's just no way you can look like a cool person on that site. There's just no way. Anything you write into any of those sections totally can be interpreted in a way that you look like an idiot.

"I'm just a simple girl who likes running and hanging out with my girlfriends!"

That sounds like a desperate slut to me.

Recently I checked out the profile of my ex-boyfriend. I knew immediately upon seeing his page that there was no chance we'd ever get back together. Well, to be fair, I knew that before I went to his page, but his "About Me" section certainly confirmed that there was no chance of a reunion. It was just so thought out and calculated.

Today my friend told me that he's really into this guy that he knows from his gym. He was all, "he's so funny, you have to check out his MySpace profile". To be honest, it made me a little nervous for my friend-- who gives a fuck about MySpace profiles? I'd never be my friend if I saw my MySpace profile... but I did anyway and found exactly what I expected... a heap of lameness...

His "About Me" reads as follows:

Fuck Courtney Love. I'm America's Sweetheart. Built for speed, built to last. Low miles, high octane, extended warranty, money back guarantee.

I'm a good Southern boy, a little bit trashy (which I wear proudly...you can take the boy out of the south, but you can't take the south out of the boy). I'm a little dirty, and my style reflects it..."truck stop couture."

I'm nicer than I look, but not as nice as I should be. I'm smarter than I look, but not as smart as I'd like to be. I'm way more shy than my persona would imply. That's what makes it a persona. The 'fuck off' posturing is just the hard crunchy outside buffering the soft chewy inside. I try to go against the grain when possible. I don't like to blend in. I fully embrace my inner wierdo.

I love music - many kinds. Music that makes me shake my ass as much as music that makes me pump my fist. Music used to be my career, now it is but a hobby.

I love Starbucks. I wash, I rinse, I repeat. I can be funny, but prefer to do so only at inapproprate times. I'm a shameless pop culture junkie. I'm a little from column A, a little from column B. I'm looking for something but I don't know what...yet. I hate people who don't wave "thank you" when I let them cut in front of me on the road, and if I could go back in time like Superman, I wouldn't let them in again.

I love to kiss. If you're a good kisser, then it's game on. The last time I cried was the end of the Six Feet Under finale. I try my hardest not to judge other people. I don't always succeed. I try to remember though, that you never know what's going on with someone that causes them to do the things they do. My glass house is far too fragile for me to be throwing stones.

I'm pretty mad about the people in my Top 20. If they're on my Top 20, know that they kick ass and life would be a little less great without them. They also love me and think I'm the greatest thing in the history of the world. ; )

At the end of the day...it's all good. If it's not? Fuck it. It is what it is..

Rocking my iPod: Rocking my iPod: Bjork "Volta," Black Rebel Motorcycle Club "Baby 81," Johnny Cash "At Folsom Prison," Roxy Music "Country Life"

Reading: "Find It. Fix It. Flip It."

Yuck.