Overrated celebrities, my personal list. Volume 1

So this will be a list of celebrities that for one reason or another I can't stand. Not always good reasons, just my very personal and prejudiced reasons. I understand if you don't agree. Or if you have a soft spot in your heart for one of these people even if they are trashy or lame. I know, not a very Christian list. Oh well, judge me if you must. I just get tired of the world adoring certain people for all the wrong reasons, and I want to say why. And it is an incomplete list. So there might be later installments. Also, I say hate quite a bit. I probably mean disgust or exasperation. Now, without further ado, let the venom roll.

1. Kimberly Stewart I hated her before she called Jennifer Aniston homely. I hated her before her publicity stunt of an eleven day engagement. I have disliked her before I knew she was a Paris Hilton cronie. I have been annoyed with her because she is a very ugly girl who is always touted as a model. I'm sorry, but she is heinous. Enough with the ridiculous Dorothy Hamill bangs and overly done eye-makeup! SHE IS UGLY! Yes, she is tall, thin, blonde and rich. That does not make her a pretty. It definitely does not make her a model. Nor does walking a charity run-way or two because of her father's name. Calling Jennifer Aniston homely? When she is a terrier? No. Uh uh. She is ridiculous. Go spend your inheritance or find a real job. Just stay out of US Weekly. She is not famous for anything she has ever done on her own. Obviously she realizes this, and it's why she got engaged for eleven days. At least it was something she did.

1a. Rod Stewart You are not Frank Sinatra. You sound like someone made you drink Draino. Your voice is not soothing, no one thinks you're sexy, you are a dirty old man dating a woman your daughter's age, and you are British! So stop singing American classics like we were all dying for an "ultimate" version. You suck.

2. Tyra Banks Tyra thinks she is the heir apparent to Oprah. And for some reason Oprah adores her. Because she's "real". She will say she was an awkward skinny kid. She will say the other models hate her and make fun of her because she is black. (Horrible-horrible racist models! They are so intolerant!) But she just keeps on keeping it real. Bless her. Ok. She is beyond ridiculous. Her talk show is a joke. I realize she doesn't write it all herself, but she acts as if everything that comes out of her mouth is akin to God's spoken truth. "Girl, you need to believe in yourself!" What?!?! Really Tyra?? But how?! Teach me! Show me the way!!! "My breasts are real!" Now I can sleep at night!!!So, I must admit, I love America's Top Model. It is catty and fast paced and about fashion. (In it's own way) However, I can not stand the judging time. If any of the girls (all novices) do something less than stellar, Tyra takes it upon herself to show them how a PRO (herself) would do it. It's like when Alex Trebek slips up and acts superior when giving the right answer after a contestant's wrong one. Wow, real tough stuff with those answer cards right there. Anyhow. Tyra is trying so hard in every moment that it shows. Pompous windbag might apply here.

3. Paris Hilton By the way, these are in no particular order, otherwise she might be first. I can't even waste the time to catalog her faults. So I will just say that she is my litmus test for any man I date. If he finds her attractive in any way, he's out. Way way out.

4. Angelina Jolie Earth mother. Let's all just take a minute and applaud this humanitarian. What a wonder. What a magical and enlightened soul she must have. Think of all she's accomplished. The lives she's lived in her short thirty years on earth! The wonderful men she's shared a time with. What a beautiful thing her love is. I bet it is so nourishing. She must be such a talented mother. What a multi-tasker too! She's made over eight movies in the past two years or so! Wow! How does she do it all? Ok. So the sarcasms done. Many famous women have said that they would go gay for Angelina. The funny thing is they don't have too. Because she is a man. A manny man whore.

5. Cameron Diaz Curl your hair. I am tired of the stringy shaggy thing she's been sporting for the last seven years. And I am tired of her "I'm just one of the boys" routine. It is so played. Oh goodie! You fart, burp and swear. Yet you look like a super-model? That is sooo interesting. And just marry JT already.

6. Tom effing Cruise You are an idiot. A full fledged idiot. Much like a friend of mine who does not believe in psychiatry or any related field as a legitimate branch of medicine, my head wants to explode when they talk about it. Obviously they do not know anyone who has ever dealt with anything. Why is it that the people who deny the existence or chemical imbalances seem the most imbalanced of all? I hope Katie gets rocked with postpartum real bad. And what's with buying his own sonogram machine. I hadn't realized that Tom (genius that he is) had studied obstetrics. Wow. That- on top of being the world's most overrated actor! Seriously, he's awful. Even movies that I like with him in it, I have to admit that he is a one note character. The same one note character. In every one. And in interviews he is just insufferable. When asked about his black children and how he has dealt with it, he honestly answered in his whisperiest voice- "I just don't see color". Whoa. That is so original! And so moving! Oh please. He is a pathetic man who apparently has love for everyone, except anyone who chooses to live their life by their own beliefs. Then he has snake venom and hate. Kind of like this blog.
Again, I don't actually hate these people. They are like fictional characters on Melrose Place. Did anyone actually like Michael Mancini? No. Of course not. It's the same with these yokels. Ok. Enough for now.

Lalalalalalala life is wonderful, cause I just took a six hour nap!

Ya, that ought to be good for me. In my defense, I slept for two to three hours total the night before. Still. Luckily I awoke in time to catch The Office at nine p.m. I love this show. I know I am like the very last person on board, but oh well. So back to me. Why was I up so late last night? Oh- I thought midnight was a great time to e-file my taxes. So that's done. Thank heavens. Wouldn't want to get down to the wire and think "if only I had spent an hour and a half about three months ago...". This is basically a perfect example of how I do not use my time wisely. Prioritizing is sort of a weak spot for me. See 'We Heart Boys' for more on that. Assuming I remember to blog on that after this. It would be in like twenty minutes or so and how on earth could I keep that sort of idea current in my mind for that long. If you would like a good idea of how my mind works read 'And You Will Know Our Velocity' by David Eggers. Not my favorite book, but he talks about the filing system in his head and how he can't find the right files at the right time. And how he has the entirely wrong files brought to him at the worst times ever. I can relate. Ever been sitting somewhere important and can't get something stupid and trivial out of your head? Like the soundtrack to Wicked when you are at the Temple? Or just about anything ridiculous when you are taking the sacrament? That would be me. I surreptitiously look around at everyone else and assume they are thinking amazing and life changing spiritual thoughts. Me? I'm trying to remember what day the Miss America Pageant will air on CMT. Then I snap back and feel guilty or stupid and try to focus on the topic at hand. (You know, like the Lord's atonement.) I find I have to read a hymn or scriptures on ADD days like this. Sometimes I am just fine. Lately I have been bringing treats to church. Chewy Sprees are the best. Quiet and a major blast of sugar to help tie you through the boring talks till the one good speaker. Sometimes they are all good, but in a singles ward that is often not the case. Anyone else tired of singles wards? I am. Anyhow. Enough about my failings in the Gospel. My last thought for the blog is my new favorite song. Jason Mraz, total guilty pleasure, but hey. I love him. Deal with it. The song is called 'Life is Wonderful', from his second album 'Mr.A-Z'. (Get it? Mraz?) Anyhow, it is the sweetest and most happy song out there right now and I love it and you will too. I-tunes. Now. You all are commanded. Trust me, it's much better to have stuck in your head during church than say '40 Feet' by Franz. Which is my favorite Franz song. Just not a perfect fit Sunday morning.

GIlbert told Anne to write about what she knows...

...So what do I know? Hotels. My job requires me to spend 2 to 4 nights a week in them. In fact I am in one right now. It has a PC(!), lovely antique-looking tables and a puffy, all-white bed that I can't wait to get into for my three and a half hours of z's. This hotel rules. Others, not so much.
Things that make a hotel awesome, in no particular order, are: Good soap-shampoo sets. The fancier the better. After five plus years of free amenities I still get some odd rush at a fancy mini lotion sitting on my bathroom counter waiting for me. Mini mouthwash? So cute! So un-neccesary! Cozy bed with clen sheets. Now I know clean sheets sounds like it should be a given, but you would be surprised. The stories I could tell, but won't. Good cable. I love the food network and hate to miss a night of Alton Brown. I like two to three channels of movies so I don't have to be stuck with the semi-porn that is always HBO. Seriously it is so stank! Wake-up calls. He-elpful! Good food nearby. I like the assortment of fast food and a few mid-range eateries like Flingers and Chachies. Mini-fridges (empty) and microwaves in the room. So handy. Birthday cake and diet coke. O.K. so I have actually never been in a room with these amenities, but a girl can dream right?
Now, things that suck or that I don't like: Germs. From dirty sheets and bathtubs to hair on the towels or crusty stuff, well, anywhere, It is all really really bad. I take a handi-wipe to all surfaces that I might touch. Controllers, phones and alarm clocks get special treatment. Um, this hotel room is nice, but I DO NOT NEED A PHONE NEXT TO THE TOILET! I barely use the one next to the bed. No way am I touching the one in there. Seriously. That's messed up. "Joey? Promise me you will never call me from that phone". Heat/air units. There is no middle of the road for these loud industrial sized horrors. You are either bone jarringly cold or menopausally hot-flashing through the night. Snooty Hotel Staff. Some are great. And some are miserable. Hotels fight very hard to win contracts from companies like mine. Yes we get a deal on the rates, but they get a guaranteed block of rooms paid for 365 days a year. We keep some hotels in business during their off season. And yet some hotel employees treat us like second rate citizens because we aren't paying for it with our own credit cards or we aren't paying "full price". Any other company that uses corporate rates gets treated like royalty. Not us, they are doing us a favor by letting us spend the night in their spare room. It's beyond annoying.
So. I had no idea that this was going to be so dull. Sorry to my two to three readers. I will try harder this month.

Dang it. I woke up too early

The problem with waking up too early is that it could be the most productive part of my day, but no. I have spent hours reading blogs on my favorite musicians web-sites. Today I enjoyed Death Cab's. I loved Nick's idea that there should be a new show with Jennifer Aniston called Friend. Did I mention that season 10 comes out this week? Not that I have seasons 5 through 9, I just like the idea of the fruition or completion that it brings to Media Play or Circuit City.
My other really important thought is about my hair. Sorry Adam, I am 125% girl. I imagine that I think about my hair as much as some people think about their cars or computers or their jobs or something. Not that I love my hair, oh no no no no no. I mean, it's fine (not in texture), I just mean that I don't spend this amount of time vainly thinking about how great it is. No. I spend this amount of time thinking how I can make it better. Or in todays case, acceptable. Two nights ago I bleached it. I do this all the time with mixed to positive results. Not this time. It's yellow. Like how Jack-thinks-blonde-hair-is-yellow yellow. Luckily the lower half is still blonde. Makes a statement I think. The statement being that I couldn't be bothered to apparently TRY and make it look regular. And regular is basically my goal in life for my hair. So after two days with baby chick color, I am freakishly liking it. Helen Hunt (of Team America fame) dyed her hair for the movie Pay It Forward. She played a poor, white-trash woman with yellow hair. She said that after living with it for a few months she forgot what normal was and started to think that this new color was hot. And that maybe she would keep it up after the movie.
Luckily for her, Helen has people like Paul Mitchell (the actual guy) or Oribe (add italic) or Sally Frersherberrrrr (Meg Ryan's shag making lady) to bring her back to her lovely natural (looking) shade and basically smack the white-trashness out of her. It's infectious. Like country music. Let a little in and and it (country music, bad dye jobs) will take root and weed out all of your better instincts (college, indie bands, colors God meant for you to have on your head).
My other thought about hair is this: How come you can always feel that one extra long hair touching the back of your arm? Sometimes it is only hanging down and inch or two past your actual length, yet you know it's a dead stray, not attatched! (Ok, so this topic deserves no exclamation points, apparently just a lot of parenthesis) This stray hair can drive you mad. You look- no hair. You grab and grab- no hair. Then an hour later you feel it again. It's so annoying. And this is soooo not interesting, except to maybe Kirsten. I guess pandering to one third of my audience isn't too bad. Also. How does hair "sew" itself into any and all fabric? I studied fashion design and production which included a healthy understanding of all kinds of weaves and construction methods, yet this one is a mystery.
Also a mystery? Why I would even put this into print. Oh yeah, I woke up too early. There is a very good reason I should always stay in bed until nine.

Literature is for Smarty Pants, Like Me

I'm joking of course. I want to write about this because I just read a brilliant collection of essays by Nick Hornby called The Polysllabic Spree. (High Fidelity, How to be Good, A Long Way Down, About A Boy) Go get it now. Go read it. Each one covers a month of his life in terms of what books he's bought and which he has actually read. He's a riot, even if you don't get all the references. And trust me, I don't. That's hard for me to admit. I like my title (self assigned) of being "well-read". I hide behind it like it's a talent or character trait of worth. It is neither.
Now, I love to read. A few years back I gave myself a challenge to read as many classics as possible. I think I am doing fairly well. So his book spoke to me. It is interesting to note (Oh, it's not? Dang it.) how we often measure our self worth with what or how much we've read. I was making the point to a friend recently that I think that people often claim an author is their favorite, not because of the books they wrote, but simply because they read them. Was Dumas really the man that understands your soul and puts it on paper? Or are you just so stoked to have finished one of his lengthy tomes? I know this feeling. When I have just finished a long novel written a good one hundred and fifty years or more before I was born, I feel ecstatic. I want to brag and tell everyone I know. That what? I read a book? This should be a given. If you run a marathon or get a big promotion or even bake some muffins you get praise and recognition. But reading? When I crow to my roommates that I just finished The Sound And The Fury (this is fictional, it's still on my to do list) or something comparable, they look at me with blank stares or worse... the "oh yeah, I read that in high school". The dreaded phrase. Dun dun dunnnnn.
This is why my task is so fruitless and frustrating. Have you ever glanced at the recommended reading list in the back of a Penguin Classic? There are usually 100 books listed of which I have read seven. And I thought I was doing so well! No one cares if you've read Madame Bovary (overrated) or Crime and Punishment if they have read The Complete and Unabridged Works of some random Peruvian Nobel Prize winning biographer of authors more obscure and foreign than he. It becomes about one-upmanship. The deeper you get, the more you realize that you will never win, and the more you want to.
Now this gets dangerous. As I have been guilty of using this as a social weapon. I have a friend who is publicly lauded as prettier, friendlier, and more talented in every field imaginable. I think we all have one of these friends. I get so bothered at being compared to her in areas I never wanted to dabble in, let alone conquer, that I build up my arsenal where she cannot touch me. Literature.
Side note. This often happens in families. The oldest son is a football star, so the next son will choose baseball. Big sister is a ballerina so younger sister will be an artist, like Amy.
With friends you often have the exact same interests, it's why you are friends in the first place. And everyone knows that your best friends are your biggest competition. And at a party where you are competing for the same four loser boys, or a parents house of one of said boys, you must assert your superiority.
Now, mystery friend does not need to assert her superiority, it is always done for her. And then the collective mass of people turn to me for either confirmation of her miracle talents or to ask how I fair in the same stupid field. Fun fun. So forgive me when I occasionally sneak in the occasional reference to a book that will make her look "less", or prove one of three things.
1- I am not in college, nor have I finished college. Yet I am not a Jerry Springer loving loser. I read Books! (capital B!) Big Books! Ones that don't get read anymore. I am a thinker. Yay me! Love me! Please love me!
2- She has not read these books. Nor will she ever, and if pressed, she will admit as much. She could not even if she had the time. They would go over her pretty little head. Not really. I am just being petty now.
3- Reading is better than (insert random humanities subject here). It is lasting and worthy and a noble pastime. I will have children that will save countries and cure diseases because their mother was a reader!
We can hope. Yes this turned into a tirade about the contest that is being a single female. See Queen Bees and Wannabees for more. Or just rent Mean Girls. Or buy it, cause it's freaking hilarious and true. And admitting as much has just negated all of the Dickens I was hoping to barter with at my next party.

Happy Family

Cute Kirsten got married!!! To Dargolas! He's cute too! And they have a cute apartment! And they have cute wedding photos and cute love and they are cute and grrrrrrrrrrrrgledl dangit! I can't write with any sort of meaning or eloquence tonight. But I am on this site, and how often does that happen? Can I talk about my other favorite people? (Kir and Dar being the tops!) I like Jack. I love him too. He says cute and funny things. Like Chanilla Dr. Pepper. Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper. He says I am the funniest person he knows. And he says that he is always "cracking her up", about grandma Marguerite, and he is. And today "someone's dad gave a box for grandma", the mailman brought a package for mom. Ha ha ha. So cute. And today I curled Abby's hair for school and she was so enamoured of herself that she spent 10 minutes arranging the curls before deciding to change into a "cuter outfit". To match her cuter self. And another cute person is someone named Caytlon. Different than cute Caitlin, another favorite. More later. Probably much later. You know me.

Opportunity

Why does opportunity knock when your makeup has worn off, you didn't wash your hair, and a passenger has just spilled tomato juice on you? It is also at hour 13 of a painfully weary day that started at 4 AM (started work, not wake up!). Yes, this is when the United States Men's Volleyball team all lumber onto my plane. All of them. All of them strapping, tall, clean cut and foxy. All on my little plane. And I am looking like the saddest, little orphan Dickens could've ever conjured up for this day and age. One by one they pass me on their way to their seats. Smiling and polite. I want to hide in a hole. There are no holes on an airplane. Nor are there available corners to touch up makeup and hair. Too bad I spent my last break finding new spots on my face to irritate and split ends to, well, split. Should've maybe brushed my teeth, hair, lint off the sweater etc... Oh well. It wasn't an opportunity anyhow. I just would've liked to imagine them seeing me at my best. Or at least my most average. This isn't so much a blog as an internal rant. Is there a difference?

I can't believe I got the right password!

I have blogged all of once due to my serious attentiondeficitdisorder that prohibits me from remembering passwords or user names and what-not. However, I think I've got it! Yay me! I just giggled my way through Kir's blogs and want desperately to write something fun and interesting. Too bad. I am a glut of tired and grumpy thoughts, mainly focusing on the masochistic idea of calling up old dates or boyfriends to ask them what was the deal breaker for them? What about me is so repelent to men these days? Boo hoo, I know. It's a serious smack myself upside the head and leave the pity party kind of situation. I will write something genius (why not?) in a couple of days.

Christmas Idea

How about the whole family exchange cd's for christmas? Each person burn a mix of their own design and make a copy for everyone in the family. Cheap, fun, meaningful. We can all exchange and talk about the songs on the cd, why we like them, why everyone should like them etc... What do you think?