Why am I watching this show? What the hell is Randy Jackson wearing? If I lit a match near Ryan Seacrest’s hair would it catch fire? So many questions.
It’s become clear to me now that I have a love/hate relationship with this show. I watched the first season in 2002 with Kelly Clarkson. Then she went on to film the movie “From Justin to Kelly” and I said I wasn’t watching the show again because that was just nonsense. But Season 2 came around and before the end I was sucked back in. Then I said I wasn’t watching anymore and meant it. I made it a few years. In 2007 my roommate and I would have it on in the background occasionally, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. But then Season 8 came on and I was back again, thanks to Adam Lambert. Because God knows I can’t resist an androgynous rockstar. For example:
And this guy who also happens to be a child molester.
Anyhoo. Adam Lambert was awesome. So I was clearly a fan of the show again. Even if I wished I wasn’t. And to be fair, I’ve only heard one of Adam’s post Idol songs and it sucks. Bummer. Let’s move onto the present because I don’t really care that much about last year. Now we’ve got (1) loony tunes Steven Tyler, who actually kind of cracks me up. I couldn’t figure out why the hell someone like him would do Idol at first. But he can’t tour anymore due to that head injury last year (sleeping pills when you’re not sleeping – brilliant) and he clearly loves the spotlight, so it actually makes sense in a way. Plus, plastic surgery is expensive. Someone’s got to pay his doctor’s bills. (2) JLo, who almost (I said almost) makes me like her because she’s so effing nice and (3) old standby what’s up dogg Randy Jackson. But overall there’s really nothing new here and I’ve had a really hard time figuring out why I just can’t turn it off. Everyone says Reality shows are like car crashes. They can’t turn away. But I don’t think that’s it here.
Is it that I can listen to cheesy songs that I secretly love but wouldn’t otherwise listen to in public? Maybe. Is it because I like hating on people? Probably. I don’t really have an answer. But the odds of me being able to turn it off this season are pretty slim.
It’s like this woman met me and decided to start a business. If anyone out there wants to buy me a gift, I think the following was created for me:
I love Sophia Coppola, so I was pretty stoked when I came across her blog for her new movie “Something.” I love her super-cool inspiration board. And correct me if I’m wrong, but Stephen Dorff is still so, so hot. Thank you Stephen. Jury is still out on whether Elle Fanning will be as irritating as her sister. I’ll hold my tongue for now. But check it out. I bet you’ll be as excited about seeing it as I am:
I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this. Is it me, or is our society surpassing ridiculous?
We all have our issues with body image. God knows I have mine. They were passed down from my mother, who got hers from my grandmother. Looking back, I’m not sure who was worse between the two of them. To this day my mother will ask if she looks ok 47,000 times before leaving the house and it was inevitable that some of her behaviors would rub off. But I am not a plastic surgery fan. I can understand it to a certain extent. I obviously have no issue with correctional surgeries after accidents, or reconstructive surgery after mastectomies or defects that may be psychologically debilitating. But surgeries just for the sake of being admired by others is dangerous business. Most people are looking for a quick fix for emotional issues. I’m fairly certain therapy is cheaper. Plus, its addicting. Don’t you people watch tv? Perhaps I watch too many Real Housewife shows, but it grosses me out. The plastic faces and huge lips are frightening. Is that what everyone is going to look like in our future? Is Joan Rivers the future role model for women?
I’m not judging over here. To each his own. And I’m certainly not one to ever make decisions for anyone else. But I still don’t like it. “Honey, mommy’s not sick, she just hated her face, so she had to get it fixed.” If you want to look like this, please be my guest:
I will still be friends with you. I think.
So this is a week behind, but with all the craziness happening at home, I’ve been distracted. If you know me, you know that I am a Nicole Atkins superfan. I see her every time she comes to town, I know everything about her (musically anyway,) I read her blog and I bought her album early on her kickstarter campaign so I could get her to sign it and then entered to win her new album on a website (and won!) I sound like a stalker now, but I can live with that. Nicole came to DC to play last Wednesday night and I got tickets super early. She was playing in a music club that I used to work for and could’ve gone to for free, but I bought tickets anyway. Gotta support the team, you know?
Two weeks ago I got invited to a happy hour event held through a Coalition that my non-profit works with occasionally, but it was the same night as the show. I still skim through the invite and then see “Special Performance by Nicole Atkins.” This is an invite through WORK. Worlds collide sometimes, but I was stoked to say the least. A double feature! So I’m getting geared up to go and then I discover that Nicole doesn’t actually play until 10:30pm. I have no interest in the opening bands and let’s be honest, I go to bed at 10:30 these days. I love her a lot, but I decide I can skip it because I was going to see her play the event after work and because I’ve seen her several times already. So I head over to the event with my co-workers and a friend of mine, listen to some government people (think its better if I leave some details/names out.) talk, have a free drink and get to see her perform three awesome songs. And I’m standing right in front of her! Not awkward at all:
I take advantage of the situation and go up and talk to her after she’s done playing. Somewhere along the lines I’ve turned into a giddy pre-teen. Fortunately for me she’s super nice, not to mention funny.
So after happy hour, my two co-workers and a friend I brought along went to have another drink and grab some food. In a matter of fifteen minutes of being at the bar I catch up with a friend from high school who happens to be the bartender (I really need to move,) my co-worker manages to buy a 19-year-old a drink, and my other co-worker is getting hit on with the line “hey bitch, what’s your name?” Obviously a real winner. Or things have just changed since I’ve been on the dating scene and that’s how people talk. These things are all hilarious to me, but I continue eating the nachos that I thought would be a sufficient meal with my friend and thank my lucky stars that I no longer hang out in bars. One thing leads to another and my co-worker has me convinced that I should go to the show, reminding me of my love for Nicole and also somehow managed to convince me that she’d be disappointed if she didn’t see us there. You know, because she doesn’t have more important things to do. So to the show we go. And it was awesome. She has yet to disappoint me. She has a new band and they are just as awesome as the first. Did the owner of the club buy me a shot? Yes. Did I drink a tad too much? Perhaps. But did Nicole actually talk to us there? YES! All in all it was a stellar night. I hung out with some great people, including a friend that I have sorely missed and I was still home by midnight. I was still utterly exhausted the next day and slightly on the slow side, but it was totally worth it. As my dear friend Sean says, “Even at my advanced age I recognize that feeling like crap on a workday every once in a while helps keep me connected to my younger days. We can’t completely eradicate our drunken, rock and roll souls, can we?” So true my friend.
So my parents have agreed to keep our dog. I knew she would grow on my dear old pops! While I still miss her terribly and am sad she won’t be coming home (unless the Dog Whisperer does in fact get back to me,) I am so relieved she is with people who love her and that I don’t have to find her a home with strangers. My father informs me that she has only been in their trash twice this week and has left only small amounts of dog hair all over all of the pillows on their bed. Allergies? What allergies? And trash is delicious, right?
And Ava’s face is looking much better. It’s amazing how fast kids heal. The scab looks like its ready to fall off and then we’ll see what we’re working with scar-wise.
A good day all around. Minus the fact that someone asked me why I wasn’t wearing green this morning. “But St. Patty’s…blah blah blah.” “Because I don’t care” seemed to be a moody enough answer for them to leave me alone fortunately. I’m feeling so much better now, but I could see a pinch coming on and I’m certainly not there yet.
Maybe one of you readers can help me out here, because I’m at a loss. For those of you expecting something funny, today is not the day. I’m off my game. And there’s really no way I can make the following funny. My worst nightmare came true this weekend. Our dog bit our daughter. And not just a little nip. A full on bite to the face. She’s a min pin and was sitting on the couch and was therefore at eye-level with my daughter who walked over to her.
A little history:
I grew up with a lab and always considered myself to be a “big dog person,” but when I was 20 I came across a chihuahua that was being abused and more or less kidnapped the little thing. And then I was a changed person. God knows I was not responsible enough for my own dog at 20 years old, but I made it work and loved and cared for him to the best of my ability. To this day I can’t leave a room without him at my heels. He is the definition of a momma’s dog. For years I explained to him that I was capable of going to the bathroom by myself, but I gave up a long time ago. A little over a year later I was on my balcony at my apartment building and looked down to see a box of puppies. My boyfriend at the time begged me not to go down there. He knew all would be lost. Naturally, I marched right down there. One sob story later and I’m the owner of a tiny four week old min-pin that had virtually no time with its momma. But what does a 21 year old know about that? No warning bells went off in my head that this may lead to problems down the line. And even if they had there’s no telling whether I would’ve cared or not. That dog was mine and I loved her neurotic little butt to pieces. We went to puppy school and she learned commands, but she hated the other dogs. We tried dog parks but she still hated the other dogs. She was fine with my other dog and with my parent’s dog, but that seemed to be it. After awhile, I just came to terms that she was not a “dog park kind of dog.” I was just young and stupid and had no idea how to raise an animal. But she was little and therefore pretty manageable. She really is a sweet little thing. She loves to snuggle and kiss and sit in your lap. And she is ok with dogs once she gets to know them. She just needs to be introduced a few times and then she’s fine. I’ve had other roommates with dogs and we always did just fine. But she has had zero exposure to children before now. When Ava was a baby she was fine. Both dogs just sort of sniffed her and seemingly adjusted very well. They just sort of went about their business. But now Ava is 17 months old and she wants to play constantly. She chases them and pulls and tugs at them and petting is more of a smack. She’s not old enough to understand yet. The dog nipped her hand a few weeks ago and Big Daddy insisted we get rid of her before something really bad happened. But I couldn’t bear to part with her. And it was just a tiny bite. I insisted that I would keep them separated. And I did. From then on I kept a close eye on them and kept them apart the majority of the time. The dog hid from her so that part was easy. I just kept Ava distracted. But over the weekend we were at the in-laws and I was in the next room helping them with something on their computer. Next thing I know I hear screaming and crying. I run into the room to a terrible scene which I won’t describe here. We head to the emergency room but fortunately she doesn’t need stitches. And she was actually over the event withing ten minutes. But I have yet to get over it of course. Yesterday she was looking for the dog under the bed yelling “Beeeeeeeeeeee” which is what she calls her and it broke my heart, but also served as a reminder that she just can’t be told yet to leave the dog alone.
So, needless to say we had to give the dog away. She’s at my parents until we can find a home for her. I’m secretly hoping my father will come around and just keep her. I don’t think their dog is crazy about her, but its not unmanageable. I’ve had her since she was four weeks old, so she’s never known anyone else and I don’t know how she would adapt to a stranger.
Has anyone else every had to deal with something like this? I obviously can’t bring her home and risk another incident, but I can’t stop crying over her. I’m holding out hope that the rents will hang on to her until Ava is old enough to understand but I think I’m just blinded by my love for her and should start looking for a new home for her now.
If anyone has Ceasar Milan’s phone number, please pass it along, because I’m pretty sure he could send her to the pack and all will be well. I am perfectly aware that I sound insane, but I submitted a letter to him this morning. Because let’s be real here. I’m 30, I’m a mom and I love animals pretty much the same way a six year old does. So I spend a lot of Friday nights laying on the couch watching back to back episodes of the Dog Whisperer.
I was born with tiger blood in my veins. As an event planner, I have to come up with clever swag for each event. Fortunately, I spent a good portion of my youth planning my own events (ok, ok. Keg parties.) Somewhere in between youth and adulthood, I started planning something in between. I used to have Julyoween every summer. I tried to trademark it, but unfortunately you can’t trademark parties. I’m dead serious. I really tried to trademark a party. In 2006, aka the “Summer of Whitney,” (quit your job, decide on where your life is going, spend your savings, party like a rockstar.) I decided to make Julyoween huge. For those of you that haven’t put it together yet, Julyoween is Halloween in July. I love dressing up so much that I need halloween twice a year. I had it at a local music club and it almost sold out the entire place. We had bands, a dj, games, etc. So I created t-shirts for prizes and actually managed to sell most of them as well. The best one:
I was so ahead of my time people. As a product of the 1990s with a sense of humor always borderline stupid, I created a whole “line” of shirts based on bands in the 90s. The Charlie Sheen shirt was fashioned after an old Rage Against the Machine album (single)cover. So I’m putting them back into rotation. I’m working on getting all of my shirts up on an etsy account, but if you’re interested in joining in on the Charlie Sheen bandwagon, you can start here:
Ah, self promotion at its best. I hope to have the shop completed by this weekend, so stay tuned.
Someone get me an appointment with Steven Tyler’s plastic surgeon. Not because I want any work done or anything. But because I want to smack him. Steven has always had that signature mug with that huge mouth. I bet he could eat his mic if he wanted to. But is it me, or is something slightly off these days? Take a look:
That’s because he looks like he’s just walked off the set of Planet of the Apes.
I mean, I imagine Steven’s face may show age more than others. Dude’s had some hard living. But when you’re starting to resemble your primate counterpart its time to take a time out.