Friday, September 28, 2007

Reality Bites

It’s official. I am addicted.

And yes, my mental health is being affected. Thank you for asking.

But what do you expect to happen to someone who wiles away her free time (mind you, it is limited) with an unhealthy reality T.V. obsession.

My obsession is less about the shows and more about the behavior of the reality “stars”. (There is a difference right?)

Frankly I am shocked that Survivor participants (cast members?) have yet to realize that there is a really good chance that once the cameras are rolling for the first time they will be informed that the show starts now and they should drop all their luggage because they are going in with the clothes on their backs!

Are they really surprised?

Did they think that going without a bra this particular day was the right move? Yeah, nothing like running through an obstacle course with un-restrained Double-Ds.

Did anyone consider that fishnets and combat boots could slow you down a bit? Not to mention that they offer a wonderful habitat for all kinds of festering bacteria while in 90 degree temperatures with 100% humidity every day.

Did they not think that their lip, belly, nipple rings may get a little funky after 39 days with no shower?

Whew. I am feeling a little better now that I got that off my chest (which by the way is supported by a bra today).

Once I do enter treatment for this debilitating addiction and in the spirit of full disclosure I guess I should also state for the record that I am strangely intrigued by and (See my post of March 16, 2007 for more.)

They’ve got me just where they want me – on their mailing lists!

They email me two to three times a week just to let me know which of my former classmates are looking for love, celebrating a birthday, or have visited my profile! My profile! They are looking for me? Well then, certainly sign me up for another year’s worth of gold membership privileges.

And, since I am a member it is only natural that I would take full advantage of the benefits and browse. Heck, I may even search for you who I just met today for the first time. Why not? If you have a profile, and its public, why wouldn’t I have some interest in your high school years?

Folks, this is a cry for help.

Friday, September 21, 2007

A Long Time Waiting

It's been awhile.

Ironically, nothing drives me crazier than visiting a blog I love and finding no updates. So, today I turn over a new leaf. And sadly, a new keyboard -- I spilled coffee on it this morning, and spat water out all over it this afternoon. Good times.

Summer -- which used be "down time" in NJ to offer Jersey girls and guys maximum opportunity to visit the beach -- is actually just as busy as any other season here da South.

So, what did I do on my summer vacation? Ooh, ooh, I'll go, I'll go! (Flashback to 3rd grade, tipping forward in your desk/chair combo and assuming that the closer you got your hand to the teacher, the more likely she was to call on you -- yeah, that was me.)

Traveled a lot this summer -- learned a lot this summer. Namely, no matter how much I mumble under my breath people will still continue to try to board a plane before their row is called. Damn, that pisses me off.

We traveled West to Portland, OR for my dear friend Patrick's wedding. Portland was
fabulous and apparently even "green" cities have transvestites, homeless and meth-heads. On the upside, I got to see Patrick and watch 4.5 consecutive hours of Food Network programming on the flight there.

Next stop -- Bermuda. "Good morning, confirmation number please." I slide our confirmation and passports across the counter. "Great, we do have a number of seats available in First Class, do you care to Uh --". Me: "Upgrade? Yes, definitely yes!"

And, that is when I became a snob. Ok, a born again snob (who am I kidding?). It didn't matter how many people clammered to board, I was the first one on the plane and the first one off. (And, of course I got free Heineken to boot. Well, 4 Heinekens divided into the $300 to upgrade. Ok, I got 4 $75 Heinekens. Best I ever had.)

A short jaunt to Birmingham, AL for business and finally a trip to Washington, DC last weekend for Aunt Madeline's 80th birthday party and my travels for this year are over.

Two coasts, two countries, a half a dozen airports and one thing always remains the same. People don't listen. If you are in Zone 6 for boarding, don't board until they call Zone 6. Why is this so hard to comprehend?

Since bitch-slapping is against some crazy airport etiquette policy, what recourse do I have?