So bad with my blog! No one is reading it anyhow, so there is no reason to really do anything.

To follow up on some earlier posts:

I was right, no one reads this except me.

Haven't watched the third episode of "You're Cut Off", but have watched the first (and last for me) episode of Eileen Chaiken's "The Real L Word" and decided if I ever did that I'd have to kill myself.

Am happy the Lakers won the NBA Championship. I celebrated like I actually liked them, and I was glad my fake sports celebrity boyfriend Kobe Bryant was named MVP.

I have been working insanely long hours at work, last week and this week. When I am not I will write a real entry.

Until then.

-R.

You're Cut Off...and also, a total moron.

So last night, I was watching one of my favorites, the lovely "Best of the" series on VH1 (this happened to be "The 90's", which was a walk through my formative years), and stayed on the channel after it was over. On comes this show I'd never heard of, called "You're Cut Off!". The premise is that a bunch of rich bitches, who are used to having money supplied to them on an un-ending basis, are now being cut off financially by those that supply said funds. From the VH1 website:

"But for these nine spoiled rotten princesses, life has never been anything but a non-stop party, filled with power shopping, mani-pedis and bottle service. All thanks to their rich mommies, daddies and other benefactors who've indulged their every whim.

Well no more.

Their benefactors have decided that in these tough times, enough is enough. They think it's high time their princesses learn how to become productive members of society--not a endless drain on their finances. They've reached out to VH1 for help."

So I think to myself, "Hmm, interesting." I'm not a fan of reality television, as a rule. I watched both MTV's "Fresh Meat II" and this CBS's "Survivor: Heroes Vs. Villans", only because that was what my girlfriend was watching (bewteen this and the NBA Finals are we seeing a theme with my tv "choices"?). I will admit that I kind of got into both. Fresh Meat more than Survivor, but both had similar premises (physical and mental challenges that are required to stay in a game that ends in a monetary reward). I wasn't sure what to make of the short teaser, except that these women were rich and spoiled and would probably bug me.

And bug me they do. As I watched, I was horrified. These women...are insane. They are in money rehab, and acting like they are dying. In the first two episodes (the only two that have been on - both are available for viewing at vh1.com), they are forced to take only one bag of belongings into a standard, normal person, middle-class single-family home (upon arrival, one girl even remarked, "my housekeepers don't even live in houses like this"), make food for themselves, clean their house, work for a cleaning service - cleaning a rich lady's house, and basically just live with eachother. For a few, this is far too difficult to even fathom, let alone cooperate with.

With the help of a Life Coach (Laura Baron, who is awesome), and group therapy sessions, the girls are going to be evaluated each week on their willingness to try to live this new life they are being forced into. They pass or fail, and everything they do gets them closer, or further away, to getting "back into the good graces of their benefactors."

A few of them are genuinely trying. They obviously aren't liking it, and they'd rather be at home being pampered, but this is what they're being dealt, and they want to get back to their old lives so they are being good. I like these girls. They are the least catty, and the most likeable - both to me, the viewer, and eachother.

Some, on the other hand, have no intention of trying and fight with everyone about everything, every second of the show. Gia is probably the worst of the bunch. Out of the 9 girls, she's fought with more girls and refused to do more work than everyone put together. Her benefactor is her husband, who is sick of her not doing anything but sleeping and getting groomed. She has an 18-month old baby and refuses to clean up after her, change her diaper, and even told the group that she didn't breast feed because she didn't want to have to wake up in the middle of the night (she had a nanny for that).

When the girls had to clean their house, she blatantly blew it off. And when they worked for a high-end company, cleaning celebrity diva Amarosa's house, she was the first to say she would NOT do it. Her reasoning? "These hands were not made to clean, they were made to wear diamonds." Not only that, when confronted about it by Amarosa, she got in her face, talked back to her, and told her she had stinky breath.

I was watching, thinking, "These bitches are out of their minds." That's pretty much all that goes through your head when watching this show. It's absolutely unbelievable how conceited and basically retarded some of them are. Most of them have no regard for eachother, or for anyone but themselves. It's insane how there are actually people who live like this, thinking that everything is owed to them and that they should be able to live a life of luxury just because.

Sucks for us poor schmucks that have to live that life every day...oh, wait, no it doesn't. :)

-R.

The NBA Finals - Really?

I am not (repeat, AM NOT) a sports fan. I used to like to play them when I was young and in shape and good at things. I've gotten bigger and more fragile since then, and don't play anymore. Softball occasionally, because I have to keep up the stereotype somehow, but I haven't played in almost a year. I don't like to watch sports on TV...the commentators are annoying, and I don't need a pre-show, half-time show, and post-show to analyze every single second and what little moves every player did that were good or bad.

I never know who to root for. Unless a California team is playing, they automatically get my faux support because I am Californian, born and raised. I have to be told, by either my girlfriend, friends or family (whoever happens to be watching that I am with) who to be rooting for. When I was a child, I used to ask my father, "What color do we want to win?" when he would watch football, so I knew which team to yell "Yay!" for. If the 49ers weren't playing, I had no idea. Now, my team by default is the Miami Dolphins. I don't particularly care about them, but they are my girlfriend's team, so I root for them.

So this NBA Finals thing...I don't care about basketball. I cared about basketball in middle school because I was tall and good at it, could play with the boys and kick their butts. In high school, the team was too competitive for me to even consider trying out, and I gave up on the sport. I have never, ever liked watching it on TV. Especially the NBA. I think they're all overpaid babies to get compensated to get exercise and rub up against eachother.

My girlfriend thinks differently. She played basketball her whole life, into highschool, and could have probably played in college, if she'd gone. She loves to watch any and all sports on TV. So now that it is the Finals, any time it is a game night it's on. During football season, every pro or college game that was on was projected on our tv screen. March Madness was a flurry of games and pools and watching ever conceivable matchup. And now the NBA finals. The ridiculous thing is that she doesn't like either team. She can't stand the Celtics because they are whiny little bitches, and cocky sons of bitches. She can't stand the Lakers because, although they to are little whiners, not as many of them are cocky bastards. The only reason she's rooting for the Lakers is because she hates them less than the Celtics.

Watching last night's Game 5 was painful and boring...painful because the Lakers got killed at every turn, and boring because it didn't hold my attention until something happened that caused my girlfriend to have a reaction something like, "Are you fucking kidding me? That was such a fucking travel!", or "Where's the foul?!?", or "Did you see that? Those refs are fucking blind." Repeat this for 2.5 hours and you have my evening. I don't understand most of the rules of NBA basketball, and I think a lot of the things that are allowed are little bitch moves that shouldn't be, but what do I know? So she had to explain things to me every few minutes. This is how watching sports with us goes. I get angry about a move, she explains why it's okay and how it is strategy, I pretend to be okay with it, but am still secretly annoyed that it's allowed.

The point is, I don't know why I get so riled up over the game, because I don't care. Perhaps it's because she cares, that I get pulled in? If I'm not bored, I'm asking questions and getting upset when our Lakers can't get a rebound, or sink a 3-point shot to save their lives (or the game). Luckily for her (us, I guess), the next two games are home games for the Lakers, and we may have a shot to win the series, and the Championship.

Now it sounds like I care, doesn't it? Hmm.

-R.

See?

It's only been two days since I started this, and I've already missed a day of posts. Garr.

Today is Friday, which makes the two days after today the weekend, and that makes me endlessly happy. Well, not entirely true. It's not endless...the happy ends on Monday when my alarm goes off at 4am. Waking up at 4am would end anyone's happiness, unless it's to get a different kind of happiness, and since that doesn't happen to me very often, that would not be my case.

Now that I've shared that detail with you, I can talk about the weekend some more. Weekends can be for so many things. Adventures, activities, or just plain lazing about. I don't always know what my weekend will entail, but I know that unless something disastrous happens at work, I will not have to work for two days, and that gives me a happy all in it's own. Just knowing that I have two days to do whatever I want splashes a grin across my face.

Once upon a time, when I was a teenager, I worked weekends. Thursday and Friday nights, and all day Saturdays, until 5pm. Working weekends is not cool when you're 16...unless you have no friends, liiiike myself.

All I know is that this weekend, I will not be watching soccer...probably.

Have a good one, bastards.

-R.

Lady Whaaaa?

Sooo, Lady Gaga's new video came out...at some point. I've just seen it this morning (not unlike me, since I don't watch music videos on a regular basis), and guys, it's weird. Like "Papparazzi" times "Telephone" weird. She said it was a "celebration of my love and appreciation for the gay community, my admiration of their bravery, their love for one another, and their courage in relationships," on Larry King Live.

Well, okay then. She must be some kind of visionary that no one but her directors understand. And if they don't, well, they do a great job of pretending. Steven Klein, who collaborated on a bunch of Madonna's stuff, worked with her on this one, and I have to say, it does look like a Madonna video. Like if Madonna mated with Star Trek, or in this case, a convent of gay men in heels.

I didn't hate it, and I don't love it, it's just...weird. Don't get me wrong, I love the Gaga. I love her music - a guilty pleasure of mine since she first came out, and I love her brazen sense of self. She doesn't give a shit what anyone says, she does what she wants and apologizes for nothing. I admire that, and mad props (oh, the irony of a young white girl saying that) to her for going balls out like that for her art and her vision. I can't say that I understand anything that she does, especially since none of the videos ever even remotely have to do with the subject of the songs they are made for.

In this one, men in black breifs and shiny black heels with horrible black bowl cuts dance around with Ms. Gaga, in her off-white bikini thing. She's humping them, they're humping her, and it's kind of all around frightening. Maybe those "gentlemen" in the video are part of her homage to the gay community? Maybe? No? I dunno. The "homoerotic military theme," (another Gaga quote from LKL) is kinda cool, and she adds her own little twist to it (would it be a Gaga video without that?) which makes it kinky, quirky, and perhaps informative at the same time. The kink, of course, being the machine gun bra she sports towards the end...where can I get one of those bad boys?

The religious elements are obviously some sort of comment on religion, and given her comments about the theme of the video, it's easy to guess that she's going for something about religion and homosexuality and how, most of the time, they don't tend to get along.

This is another in a long line of Gagasms that leaves us wondering just what this wacky songstress is going to do next. If this is only the beginning of her carreer, think of what we have to look forward to.

Frightening, isn't it? ;)

-R.

Hmmm...first post.

As the title may suggest, this is my first post. Not my first ever blog post, because, well, I've started multiple blogs in the past, did one of these "first post" posts, and then either got busy, or got bored. Or forgot my login information and the location of the blog itself on the interwebs...both of which are not only possible, but more than 100% likely.

I have to start being more on top of blogs. Blogs are good. They let you get things off your chest. You know, things that you could easily tell a friend or co-worker (or parent, or relative, or stranger on the street, or UPS driver...you get the point), but instead you choose to post on the world wide web for a million people (okay, that's wishful thinking. This blog will have roughly 2.3 readers, including myself.) to see. Perhaps we feel that posting words, thoughts, wishes, and dreams for anyone with a computer and lots of time on their hands to see, is validating for some reason?

I feel that it will be a good chance to be snarky and droll in a public forum where I can't actually see people sneering at me, snoring and not even trying to hide it, rolling their eyes, or not laughing when I try to be witty. I have a suspicion that this blog will be like Steve Carrell's character on The Office: kind of awkward, not really funny, but too car accident-y to totally ignore. Okay, not true. I'm too self-depricating and pessimistic to believe that people will be so enraptured by my stupid words that they won't be able to ignore it.

I'm sure this blog will be like a reality TV star and no one will give a flying fuck. But, it will be mine, and that's all I will need to know.

Now read it, you bastards.

-R.