Tinkle Town

I planned to come home tonight and blog. Sorry it’s been a while.

I flew down to FL last week to take my mom to some dr appointments. While watching TV on the plane I saw this ridiculous commercial for something called Pajama Jeans, and I found it hilarious. I didn’t sleep a ton while I was away, so I saw a lot of late night infomercials selling equally ridiculous and unnecessary products. I started thinking about writing another As Seen on TV post.

And I will.

But tonight, I just have to share what I saw on my way home…

When I left work a little after 6, it was cold and dark. I was outside my office building and feeling pretty good for avoiding stepping on a squishy roach in the middle of 45th street. I was flipping through songs on my iPod when I happened to look up and see a middle-aged woman ahead.

She was well-lit because she was standing in the doorway of a pretty posh deli, which was closing up for the night. I noticed the woman was wearing a brown tweed skirt, nude nylons, and white granny panties.

I know the color of her underwear, because they were around her ankles.

Just incase my retinas weren't completely burnt yet, I could also see her skirt was hiked up over her bare ass, which then gave me a clear view of the glass mug she was peeing in. While standing on the sidewalk. In the doorway of a deli. PEEING! 

Something tells me the mug didn’t say “World’s Greatest Mom” on the flipside.

In one swift motion, I saw her dump the mug out, midstream, and start to fill it again. She must not have peed for a week. At this point, I was passing by her, completely HORRIFIED. I couldn’t even hide it. I shouted, “Holy shit!” when my brain finally connected these disgusting dots, but she was unphased by me or by the owner of the deli who was now banging on the window. He was wildly waving a head of lettuce at her – I’m pretty sure that’s the universal symbol for "please stop pissing on my store."

Um, really lady?

I’ve seen many, many, MANY guys pee outside. Sometimes you witness the act itself, and sometimes it’s just the wet spot. Sadly, I don't think twice about it. I practically expect it. But it’s not every day you see a woman take a leak on a sidewalk.

We have shattered the porcelain ceiling.  Women have officially become disgusting. 

I need to look no further than the restroom in my own office building to see just how disgusting the fairer sex can be. It’s astonishing to me how many women don’t flush. Is this environmental?  It certainly isn't hygienic.  And you’re lucky, if it’s pee! At least once a week, I walk into a stall clogged with poo – or worse, blood. Ewww. It’s like toilet roulette.

If this happens in an office, no wonder it’s chaos in the streets!

Watch out for puddles...


tags: city life, gross

McBullshit

No doubt by now you’ve seen the photos.

The article about them on Yahoo alone has over 13,000 comments.  That same article has been shared on Facebook over 266,000 times.  And re-tweeted over 4,000 times.

Even my dad sent it to me!

I’m talking about the photos showing the contents of an unadorned Happy Meal left out to rot on a coffee table in your typical Manhattan apartment.

Only it didn't.

They say this “superfood” has resisted decomposition for 6 whole months. That’s 180 days. And it’s still fresh as a daisy, if that daisy was made of plastic.

Ahem. Bullshit.

Now, let me be clear: I have NO doubt this could happen. But here are 5 reasons I think this “experiment” is total crap:

1) Food left out in the open in your typical NYC apartment is a red carpet invitation to rats, mice, flies, ants, roaches, and other unsavory houseguests. Nobody in their right mind would open that Pandora’s box of vermin. Or are we to believe that the bugs in her house took a nibble of this hideous feast and turned vegetarian? If that’s the case, lock up your tofu, lady!

2) It moved. It's plain to see.  The bun. The burger. And most definitely the fries. MOVED! A lot. Plus wouldn’t the paper get all greasy? Also who's to say this is a Happy Meal -- I see no prize?  Or is it that it sounds much worse if we feed this cryogenic snack to our kids rather than ourselves?  And why is the lighting on these casual photographs basically the same every single day? Nobody's that anal.  Not even me.  Something’s fishy. Or burgery, as the case may be.

3) She’s an artist. A photographer who’s sold her work to famous people. Like SJP. Jeez, if I knew this counts as “art,” I would have photographed the back seat of my college roommate’s Subaru for 4 years. She loved Happy Meals, and no doubt had a few runaway fries left under the seat. Then I too could have been interviewed by Good Morning America. Why, I bet that type of notoriety might even help someone sell some actual art, since someone probably needs to buy a new coffee table and all.  But I'm sure someone never, ever thought of that...

4) IT’S NOT NEWS THAT MCDONALDS IS GROSS! Hey, is the sky also blue? Babies and puppies still cute? Here’s a tip: If you want to be healthy, don’t buy your food at the same place you buy gas. This Happy Meal that withstands the test of time doesn’t make me sick. Even Morgan Sperlock’s supersize adventure didn’t make me sick. What person who weighs less than 600lbs eats that much junk for every meal every single day? Anything in excess is bad for you.  Now Fast Food Nation? Yeah, that one made me kinda sick. But this is not that.

5) This whole issue is a non-story. Salt is a preservative and the burger’s so non-juicy it might as well be jerky. No moisture = no mold.  This has nothing to do with magically evil McChemicals, it’s simple science that even pirates knew (and those peg-legged bastards got scurvy and rickets). Besides, preservatives don’t kill people, bacteria does.


Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to make a moisturizer out of salt and preservatives so I can become a billionaire and look like I’m 17 forever.  Right after I finish these fries...

They really don't stick around in MY house long enough to decay either.

 
tags: food, gross

Why Has Glee Forsaken Me?

What I’m about to tell you won’t be popular:

Glee’s official season 2 has not been good.  They're 0 for 2.

There, I said it. But I’m not happy about it.

I love Glee! And whether or not you watch the show (and if you don’t, really, what’s wrong with you? Do you also hate rainbows and chocolate bunnies?), you can’t escape the hype. Or the praise, which has been 100% well-deserved.

SUPER talented cast, awesome 1-liners, and just an all-around entertaining hour of television. The bar is, admittedly, set quite high.

So it was with great anticipation that I tuned in last week -- eager to go back to school with the crazy kids from McKinley High. And while Empire State of Mind out in the courtyard and the Telephone showdown in the bathroom were both great, there were 3 things that missed the mark for me, big-time:

1. Replacing Coach Ken Tanaka. The jury is still out the new female football coach named Beiste, but I hope she's not a joke. That would be just plain mean.
2. Speaking of mean, having good guy Mr. Schuester join forces with awesomely evil Sue Sylvester to torment the new coach was ridiculously out of character.
3. Making Kurt and Puck practically invisible was a mistake. Kurt is hilarious, and Puck is just plain hot. A miss on both counts.

The whole thing left me feeling… unsatisfied. But what kept me hanging on was knowing an episode devoted to Britney Spears was right around the corner. I was SUPER psyched for it.

And yes, I’m aware of all the things that are wrong with that statement.

So I watched. And I listened. And I waited. And, ugh! Not good. Again! Here’s why:

1. Totally bizarre choice of songs (exception being Artie’s Stronger, which was all kinds of terrific), with the horror of all horrors -- an awkward Baby One More Time by the never-disappointing Rachel.
2. Stupid premise of anesthesia-induced Britney hallucinations. We get it. She’s a guilty pleasure. But is that the best they could do?
3. Too many video reenactments, not enough weaving the songs into the storyline. It worked so well with Madonna/Vogue from last season, and even Olivia Newton John/Physical, but here it was overkill. Forced.

I hate to hate on a show I totally adore. So I should point out the 2 things from last night’s episode that were standouts. First, it showed everyone what a fierce dancer Brittany S. Pierce could be. I had an idea, but wow! And second, it reminded me you can never have enough Uncle Jesse. Ever. John Stamos is like human bacon. He makes everything better. And he’s probably just as tasty…

Hmm. Did that cross the line? Eh. It’s been a long, lonely summer.

Anyhoo, if it were up to me, I would keep Stronger and Toxic (but with a better premise, that pep rally was lame). Then I’d add these 3 numbers that would have been more up to Glee’s standards:

1. Suppose Puck’s had a busy summer, bouncing between all his season 1 love interests, then school’s back in session and the girls compare notes (or sexts, as the case may be). Surely Santana, Quinn, Mercedes, and Rachel could do a killer rendition of Womanizer, with Noah Puckerman in their cross-hairs.
2. Imagine Kurt, still pining football hero Finn, doing an acapella (You Drive Me) Crazy, while looking all mooney-eyed at his locker.
3. Playing off this new Miss Pillsbury love triangle, you could see a Will Schuester and dreamy Doc Stamos duet -- vying for her attention in a pop/easy listening mash-up.  They'd sing Gimme More and she'd sing Arthur's Theme and obsessively pump hand santitizer.
4. BONUS: Let’s say Sue Sylvester was named Coach of the Decade in Splits Magazine. Again. No doubt this would inspire her to belt out Piece of Me while shoving unsuspecting students in the hallway like they were paparazzi.

Either way we should all thank our lucky stars nobody sang, I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman, featured in Miss Britney’s addictively awful cinematic debut, Crossroads.

So in my next life, when I’m a television writer, I’ll set things straight. Until then, if Glee keeps on this downward trend, it’s only a matter of time before an ill-conceived FOX cross-over episode airs that puts the kids at American Idol tryouts. Think Puck singing Daughtry singing Nickelback. Or Kurt singing Adam Lambert singing Queen.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

So, fellow Gleeks, what do you think? Do I deserve a grape slushie facial for this blasphemy? Or one of Rachel’s gold stars? Has all this TV finally fried my brain? Tell me why or why not below…

(PS: John Stamos… call me. Seriously.)


tags: entertainment, music

Five Alarm

I woke up at 2:20 this morning to the smell of smoke.

As you know, I threw my back out again. So I've been rocking the heating pad quite a bit. My first instinct was that I forgot to shut it off and my couch was on fire. But I got up and it was fine.

False alarm.

So I stumbled into my kitchen. Maybe a dishtowel magically ignited on the gas stove (that I haven't used for weeks).

Nope.

Then, I opened the front door -- the smell of smoke was even stronger in the hallway.

Now totally convinced my apartment building was on fire, I did a few things, while still half asleep:

1) I switched from pajama pants to lounge pants. A subtle difference, unless you consider that my pajama pants were covered in green butterflies and my lounge pants were plain navy blue. That felt more presentable. At 2am. I also put on a bra. No butterflies there.
2) I gathered up my purse, wallet, keys, and cell phone. And just for good measure, my cell phone charger.
3) I brushed my hair and my teeth. And then put my toothbrush in my pants pocket.
4) I grabbed a granola bar, a bottle of water, and a bottle of Advil liquigels (because the extra-strength Excedrin tablets I've been popping for my back are slowly giving me a stomach ulcer).

Oddly, I didn’t put on shoes – but maybe I didn't notice because I had socks on my feet (that’s how I always sleep).

Then I sat on the edge of my bed, with my purse on my lap, waiting for the fire alarm to go off. It was kind of like waiting for a bus. But nothing happened. So I called the lobby downstairs. Maybe they didn't know about the fire that surely must have been raging directly above or below my apartment, based on the strength of the smell.

It was my duty to call! Nobody answered.

So I struggled to open my window, not because they're hard to open, but because everything's a struggle when your back hurts. I finally got it open only to find that all of 40th Street was full of smoke. My heart started racing. And I immediately shuffled over to my kitchen table to grab a piece of mail and stuffed it in my purse. My renter’s insurance policy arrived the other day. I thought it might come in handy incase all my new stuff burst into flames.

Then I went back to the window. This time, I pressed my face up against the screen, straining to see the street. I'm on the 28th floor, so you can't see much. I could hear sirens, but it didn't seem like anything was happening directly below on 40th or 2nd. So I looked to the right, and saw TONS of red and white fire truck lights.

Aha!

At this point, it was about 2:45. In the morning. And I realized it wasn't a fire in my building after all, just a ton of smoke. Seeing the blaze was a block away, I went back to bed. In my navy pants. With the toothbrush in my pocket.

This morning when my alarm went off, part of me thought the smoke was all a crazy dream.  I grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and blew my nose.  What came out looked a bit like soot, so I flipped on my beloved Channel 11 morning "news."  Surely, if anything happened, it would be a top story (right after a hula hoop contest -- or something equally ridiculous).

Turns out there WAS a fire. On 39th and 3rd. A 5 alarm fire, no less, with nearly 200 firefighters on the scene. It started shortly after midnight in the kitchen of a restaurant, and quickly spread to the neighboring restaurant. When they zoomed out, I realized I knew one of them -- The Frontier Coffee Shop! I once had a great piece of apple pie there, shortly after I moved into the neighborhood.

The first time.

It always struck me as an odd building amidst all the skyscrapers, kind of like the city grew up around it. While sitting in a corner booth reading a magazine and eating my pie, I remember overhearing a woman at the table next to me and the waitress whispering that disgraced NY Governor Eliot Spitzer used to come in for breakfast after he’d worked up an appetite with his… female constituents.

If the Wild West had a Denny’s, it could have been inspiration for the Frontier. I guess it was the American dream for a couple of brothers back in 1974 to build a Greek diner with a cowboy theme. Looking at the charred exterior of the building, your heart can’t help but break for the family, their 40 employees, and the 15 people who were hurt battling the blaze when the roof collapsed.

I truly hope they rebuild. And when they do, I’ll come by -- in my leisure pants -- for a piece of pie.


tags: city life, food

Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

I was in a meeting this morning and a colleague of mine whipped up her skirt and pointed to a raised red mark on her thigh.

“Does this look like a bedbug bite to YOU?” she asked, with a twitch in her eye and tremble in her voice. “I just got it on the subway.”

I shook my head and said, “Nooo!” (But honestly, I don’t know what a bedbug bite looks like.) Every few minutes, I inched my chair a little further away from hers just in case she had a stowaway in the hem of her skirt.

I read that somebody actually found an alligator in a sewer over the weekend. An ALLIGATOR! But bedbugs are all anyone can talk about. I’m guessing they’re Public Enemy #1 because, um… they live in your BED! At least cockroaches have the decency to form their dens in your walls. And rats rest their sleepy heads in underground nests, far, far away from your pristine memory foam.

Total amateurs like roaches, rats and alligators do NOT signal the apocalypse. Biblical plagues of locusts signal the apocalypse. Well, locusts and now… bedbugs.

Bedbugs are pure evil.

Paranoia is running rampant, with the bloodsuckers being found across the city in hipster retail stores, posh magazine offices, and iconic building basements. Even the movies aren’t safe!

What’s most disturbing is that the bugs can’t possibly originate in these places because nobody sleeps a la Costanza under the desk at work. So it stands to reason that they are hitching a ride from people’s HOMES into stores, offices, tourist traps, and theaters. Which means that NO amount of commercial fumigating will actually get RID of this residential problem, because they’re not attacking the SOURCE of the infestation.

These businesses are just a rest stop on the vermin highway. I’m itchy just THINKING about it!

I’ve known perfectly clean people who got hit with a case of the bedbugs. They are awful to get rid of. At first people live in private shame, scratching and stomping the bloody carcasses out with the heel of a shoe. When they realize the problem is bigger than their Birkenstocks, they call in exterminators with bedbug sniffing dogs. They throw out mattresses, bedding, and dressers full of clothes that may have been “compromised.” They rip up rugs and tear down curtains. They wrap their new beds and pillows in anti-bedbug plastic shields and sleep with the lights on. Even still, their eyes play tricks on them and their skin crawls, driven batty by bedbugs.

It’s like being a modern day Lady Macbeth. “Out, damned bedbug!  Out I say!”

I guess I should take comfort in the fact that I live in Manhattan. The most populated US city is only the 7th most bedbuggiest. Now, if I lived in Ohio, with THREE cities in the top 10, (or the Midwest in general), I’d really be in trouble.

Maybe the pests prefer the Midwest’s friendly hospitality. So stay mean, New York. Grrrrr!

And sleep tight…


tags: city life, gross, health

Would You Like a Defibrillator With That?

Look, I like junk food just as much as the next guy.

Maybe more.

But I’m noticing this disturbing trend right now of extreme junk food. And I don’t mean the disgusting crap that Andrew Zimmern swallows whole (like BBQ’ed raccoon). Or even the mass amounts of food that adorable linebacker Adam Richman shoves down his pie-hole (like an omelet the size of a bath mat).

This isn’t about the gross-out factor, or sheer quantity. It’s more of a mash-up of 2+ foods that eaten alone are pretty bad for you, but eaten together are a crime against cuisine (and your colon).

I suppose the original mash-up is chicken and waffles. Restaurant empires have been built around this concept, and it is good! But lately there’s been a surge of flavor combinations that seem to have been randomly picked out of a hat. While wearing a blindfold. In the dark.

WARNING: Your arteries may clog just reading this.

KFC

Fried Chicken x 2 + Bacon + Cheese + Mystery Sauce - Bread = The Double Down

I’ve got to say, initially I was intrigued. Fried chicken as bread? Sounded genius. Then I saw one in real life as I was shopping for new accessories at the HomeGoods on Post Road in Norwalk, CT, and was quickly cured. It looked like a greasy, oozy mess. And it’s no wonder -- the bread in a sandwich serves a purpose, people! It’s there to sop up all that grease and ooze. You take that out of the equation and you’ve got sandwich chaos on your hands. Literally.

BURGER KING
Cheeseburger x 4 - American ingredients + Italian ingredients = NY Pizza Burger
I have no idea why BK would want to get into the pizza game. But then again, I’ve never understood why Pizza Hut and Domino’s ever started serving up chicken wings or the carbohydrate coma known as “bread bowl pasta.” Either way, The King is smoking crack. Only available in their new Times Square Whopper Bar, this burger gut-buster is made up of 4 Whoppers which are topped with marinara, mozzarella, pepperoni, and a “nutless” pesto-flavored mayo. It is then served on a sesame seed bun the size of a steering wheel, and cut into slices like a pizza. They say it’s meant for sharing. With your enemies.

FRIENDLY'S
Mac & Cheese + More Cheese + Fried Tortilla = Mac & Cheese Quesadilla
This abomination is actually on the KIDS menu, though it might be considered child abuse to let your kid actually eat it. Particularly if you take them up on their offer to mix in bacon and/or Friendly Franks (which, incidentally, contain milk -- so if you’re concerned about keeping Kosher, back away from the hot dog, but if not, go hog wild). Inexplicably, the dish comes with a handful of pickles (which I detest) and ketchup. Why not a side of lard? Oh, because THAT would be gross.

DENNY'S
Grilled Cheese - Bacon & Tomatoes + Mozzarella Sticks = Fried Cheese Sandwich
Hmmm, so let me get this one straight: mozzarella cheese is breaded and fried, then covered in American cheese and bread, and fried again. It’s like mozzie sticks in grilled cheese clothing. It comes with a side of marinara sauce, which not only stays true to the sandwich’s Italian roots, but it also appears to be the healthiest thing on the plate. I’ve never met a cheese I didn’t like, and this is even too much for me.

POP-TARTS
Pop-Tarts x 3 + Fruit Roll Up - Rice, Raw Fish, & Seaweed Wrap = Pop-Tart Sushi
Now I know what you’re thinking... you can’t order Pop-Tarts in a restaurant! This must have come from some wacky cookbook, with recipes for Twinkie Tacos, or Cheetos Meatloaf, or SPAM Fingers. Nope! Pop-Tarts World is an actual place that just opened across the street from our office in Times Square, and they are serving up sweet, sweet delicacies like Pop-Tart sushi. I do love a good Pop-Tart, but I like them au natural. In fact, I’ve never even toasted one. So maybe I’ve just been eating Tarts all this time (hold the Pop). I dunno. But to me, Pop-Tarts sushi seems like a culinary horizon better left unexplored (much like SPAM and ANYTHING).

DAIRY QUEEN
Chocolate Ice Cream - 1 Heath Bar + 1 lb. Crumbled Bacon = The Bacon Blizzard
Alright, I made this last one up -- I dream of being tempted by a bacon smoothie. But you believed me for a second, right? Don’t be surprised if you see a commercial where little pieces of pork fall slow motion-style into a swirling cup of frosty ice cream, that gets drizzled in maple syrup and chopped nuts as you watch those faceless red lips suck it down! And if they do, DQ can send the royalties to my new digs. Or they can just pay me in Bacon Blizzards. Either way. I’m easy.


Would YOU try any of these fast food mash-ups? Tell me why (or why not) below.

tags: food, gross, pop culture

An Open Letter to Commuters

Today was my last day making the commute between CT and NYC. Today, my commute took about 2hrs.

Each way.

Starting on Monday, however, I will go back to an easy breezy 15 minutes. Or 11 blocks. Or 4 songs on the iPod. Any way you slice it, it's a beautiful thing.

And commuting hasn't been cheap! Between rental cars and train tickets, parking lots and gas, getting back and forth to work since I was dumped has cost me $2,545.95. But I needed to get to work, to earn more money, so I could afford to commute, right?

Barf.

Anyway, I haven't used public transportation regularly to get to work in about 5 years. When I lived in the city, I walked, obviously. When I lived in Jersey, I drove (which, mind you, is its own personal brand of Hell -- trying to squeeze all that traffic through the Lincoln Tunnel is like trying to suck a bowling ball through a straw).

So I forgot just how HORRIBLE it is to be packed like sardines on a speeding train with hundreds of strangers.  It's like a smorgasbord of awfulness.

Riding the rails shouldn't be an assault on your senses. But it is. Don't know what I mean? Read on...

SIGHT: Just yesterday, I watched a grown man gnaw his fingernail off and pick his teeth with it. I know. I just threw up in my mouth a little, too. So, commuters, here's a tip: Handle your hygiene at HOME. That means no public nail clipping, nose picking, flossing, or scratching in inappropriate places. I don’t want to see it. Nobody does.

SOUND: Do I need to know that you forgot to thaw out the chicken? Must I hear you discuss the results of your pap smear? Is it really necessary to subject me to the lecture you are giving your teenage son for getting a ANOTHER speeding ticket? I know we're all busy at work and don't always have time during the day to tend to personal matters, but consider the train to be a moving office. If you are not working, chances are, the person next to you probably is, and does not welcome you yammering on your cell phone. So quit it. And please don't talk to me either. You sound like a freak and I'm not as friendly as I look.

TASTE: I totally get grabbing a snack for the ride home. Who doesn't get the munchies? But you shouldn't need to hunker down to a 3-course meal on the train. Somehow, I'm always sitting in the car with the broken air conditioning next to the guy -- or girl -- who is stuffing their face. The food you are eating on the train shouldn't be so pungent that I can taste it. This means no popcorn, no greasy fast food, no drippy bacon egg and cheese sandwiches, no strong-smelling foods of any kind. Try a pretzel. Or if you absolutely MUST consume a meal on the train because your kitchen at home burned down, how about a nice salad? Just don't get a fast food salad. Paying McDonalds (or Wendy's or Burger King) for a salad is like paying a hooker for a hug.

TOUCH: Keep your knees to yourself. Don't let them brush up against mine, and then casually leave them there, waiting for me to notice. Don't put them in between my legs and let them bobble back and forth as the train bounces over the tracks. And don't fall asleep and block me in with them. Don't touch me and I won't passive-aggressively try to trip you on the platform. Deal? Deal.

SMELL: In the morning, professional people should smell like soap, not stink like last night.  I can pick out who chopped onions for dinner, or who was out on a bender and slept in his suit.  Am I psychic?  No, I leave that to Paul.  I know these private things because my nose tells me.  And I don't even know your name.


Yes, navigating amidst the huddled masses is a sensory minefield. The next time you're on the subway, or Metro North, or NJ Transit, or the LIRR, look around. If at least 1 of your 5 senses ISN'T being offended, I will give you $1. But if it IS, you owe me.

I figure at that rate, I'll make back my $2500 in roughly 3 weeks.

So, am I being totally neurotic, or has ANYBODY had a similar experience?  Share them below!

 
tags: city life, gross, travel, work

5 Reasons I Cannot Get Down with Jersey Shore

I read that a Jersey Shore spinoff is coming, called Wicked Summer.

PLEASE don’t let me get sucked into it.

I’m just coming to terms with the fact that I watched the whole first season of Jersey Shore. All 9 episodes. PLUS the reunion special. I also Jersey Shored myself. And I discovered my Jersey Shore nickname: Jenny Pepperoni.

The whole experience was so traumatizing, only now can I speak about it publicly.

If you have been living under a rock for the last six months and are oblivious to the cultural train wreck that is Jersey Shore, let me explain it in MTV’s own language...

If the Real World is the story of seven strangers picked to live in a house and have their lives taped to find out what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real (I just typed that from memory, btw… scary...), then Jersey Shore is the story of eight guidos picked to live in Seaside Heights and have their fights taped to find out what happens when juiced-up gorillas stop popping steroids and start pumping fists.

Needless to say, a love letter to the Garden State, it is not.

I guess I kept watching because I was waiting for it to get better. To find something remotely redeeming about this rag-tag gaggle of goons who carted all their earthly possessions down the Parkway in a Hefty bag. But it never did get better. It got progressively worse.

Here are the 5 myths I just couldn’t see past:

MYTH #1: The cast was from New Jersey.
REALITY: Only 2 of them were! Like the Jerz doesn’t have enough problems? We need 5 bozos from New York and 1 from Rhode Island (I’m talking to YOU, Pauly D!) mucking up our already questionable national reputation? Thanks a lot, MTV.

MYTH #2: Italians are loud.
REALITY: Douchebags are loud! They come in all shapes, sizes. And nationalities.

MYTH #3: People name their bodyparts.
REALITY: No they don’t. Calling your twelve-pack abs “The Situation” is a lame attempt to distract from your Toucan Sam face or your thinning hair (aka “The Problem”).

MYTH #4: Tanning is a way of life.
REALITY: So is skin cancer. Look, I’m not really a fan of the faux tan (recall my Ooompa Loompa incident), but having a personal tanning bed in your home or going tanning in a SALON daily when you are spending the summer at the BEACH is a sign of stupidity, not status.

MYTH #5: Your hair should defy gravity.
REALITY: You shouldn’t look like you’re smuggling biscotti under your bangs. So Snookie/Snickers, just say “no” to your home-grown Bumpit. And on the topic of dumb looking hair, Pauly D., human beings do not buy hair gel by the gross (that’s 144 buckets of Dippity-Don’t to you). And finally, Vinny, please fill in those eyebrows. You look like Joan Crawford.


Ah. I feel better now. The first step towards Reality TV Recovery is admitting I have a problem.

So what do you think? Did my love of Jersey cloud my view of Jersey Shore?

The Skunkies

What is $34.50, involves oily butter, and makes your feet stick to the floor?

Why it’s a trip for 2 to the movies (plus snacks), of course!

With this kind of investment, you’d probably want to spend your hard-earned movie money wisely, right? And there are PLENTY of people out there to help you do just that. From Razzies to Rotten Tomatoes, there’s no shortage of sites sniffing out the movie bombs.

I know this. Really I do. And yet, I keep watching stinkers.

And I don't mean movies of the “so bad they’re really good” variety. I mean just plain awful ones. The kind that make you want to plop down on your couch to watch TV instead because if you don't like the show, at least it was free (sorta). Or make you want to eat healthy carrots instead of a bucket-o-faux-buttery popcorn, because they help improve your night-vision (or so I hear).

For whatever reason, I continue to turn a deaf ear to the critics. So tonight, I am compelled to share 10 painful films that I have endured over the past decade. Let this be a cautionary tale.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit seeing most of these. And I’m certain I’ll never get the precious hours back that were spent throwing up in my movie-loving mouth as these interminable films droned on.

So, on with the show! Here are my WORST movies of the decade.

And “The Skunky” goes to…

2000: Battlefield Earth
Tagline: “Prepare for Battle.”
Star Power: John Travolta, Forest Whitaker
10-Word Synopsis: Futuristic Scientologists destroy Earth, enslave humans. Accidental comedy.
Stink Factor:

2001: Glitter
Tagline: “In music she found her dream, her life, herself.”
Star Power: Mariah Carey, Terrence Howard
10-Word Synopsis: Big-haired singer with dream. Should stick to singing, not acting.
Stink Factor:

2002: Crossroads
Tagline: “Dreams change, friends are forever.”
Star Power: Britney Spears, Dan Aykroyd, Kim Cattrall, Justin Long
10-Word Synopsis: See Mariah.
Stink Factor:

2003: Gigli
Tagline: “Murder, blackmail, temptation, redemption. It’s been a busy week.”
Star Power: Ben Affleck, Jennifer Lopez, Christopher Walken, Justin Bartha
10-Word Synopsis: Set in Jersey -- spoiler -- can't believe they didn't work out.
Stink Factor:

2004: Catwoman
Tagline: (they didn’t have one, so I’m adding my own: “Me-Ouch!”)
Star Power: Halle Berry, Benjamin Bratt, Sharon Stone
10-Word Synopsis: Woman becomes cat, fights crime. Really, Oscar winner? REALLY??
Stink Factor:

2005: The Gingerdead Man
Tagline: “Evil never tasted so good.”
Star Power: Gary Busey
10-Word Synopsis: Psychokiller comes back to life as cookie. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Stink Factor:

2006: Basic Instinct 2
Tagline: “Sometimes obsession can be murder.”
Star Power: Sharon Stone
10-Word Synopsis: Nobody needs to see your lady parts again, Sharon. Seriously.
Stink Factor:

2007: Who’s Your Caddy?
Tagline: “This summer, it’s the street vs. the elite.”
Star Power: Sherri Shepherd
10-Word Synopsis: Racial stereotypes abound. Title is most clever thing here.
Stink Factor:

2008: Pineapple Express
Tagline: “Put this in your pipe and smoke it.”
Star Power: Seth Rogan & James Franco
10-Word Synopsis: Must be high to understand unfunny reefer comedy. Have munchies.
Stink Factor:

2009: Jennifer’s Body
Tagline: “She’s evil… and not just high school evil.”
Star Power: Megan Fox, Amanda Seyfried, Adam Brody
10-Word Synopsis: Can’t resist things named Jennifer. But it’s no Juno, Diablo.
Stink Factor:

Ok, now it’s YOUR turn. Surely I can’t be the only one who watched horrible movies in the past decade. Add your own stinkers below!

Apparently, Candy Isn't So Dandy

As if there wasn’t enough to worry about these days… now eating too much candy can lead to a life of crime.

I know, I can’t believe it either.

But in an October study published in the British Journal of Psychiatry (which I read religiously), they looked at kids who ate candy daily at age 10 and found that 69% of them were ARRESTED for a violent offense by age 34.

Now, if you told me the study showed that 7 of every 10 British kids who ate candy daily had horrible teeth, I’d believe you. But violent crimes? C’MON! This smells like propaganda from the International Broccoli Council to me. I guess “Just wait until your father gets home” and “Think about the starving children in Africa” are no longer persuasive enough motivation techniques.

“Eat your veggies or wind up in the Big House” carries that extra je ne sais quoi.

The study further goes on to explain that parents who regularly bribe their kids with sweets in exchange for good behavior are doing harm. Hmm. What about parents who bribe their kids with clothes and shoes and jewelry and handbags in exchange for good grades? Because that’s pretty much how I grew up, and I’ve got news for these Brits -- it worked like a charm (bracelet).

Anyway, I seriously doubt I ate candy DAILY as a kid (unless carob chips count -- my mom went through a health food phase where we had a lot of “nature’s chocolate” lying about). So, maybe I should eat candy daily at age 36 and see if it inspires a crime spree by the time I turn 60…

Here are the delicious sweets that would turn me sour (aka my 7 Candy Sins):
1) Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups
2) Whatchamacallit
3) Butterfingers
4) Twix
5) Gummy Cola Bottles
6) Skittles
7) Cherry-flavored Jolly Ranchers

And here’s the horrible candy that I’d never eat, thus keeping me on the straight and narrow:
1) Wax Lips
2) Candy Buttons
3) Good & Plenty
4) Jordan Almonds
5) Mounds Bars
6) Necco Wafers
7) Red Hots

What treats would turn YOU to a life of crime? List them below! (Bonus points for calling out more horrible candy…)

Note to Celebrities: Please Stop Dying

***Thanks go out to the overwhelming majority of 6 who answered my poll! I will keep blogging for YOU (and also for the 16 other people who read that post but didn’t feel the need to vote -- I take your silence as consent!). And now… let's begin We’re Not In Pine Brook Anymore, Part Deux.***

Summer is officially over. Boo.

The Times recently uncovered a frightening seasonal phenomenon. And no, it’s not about the rain. It’s about celebrities.

They kinda keep dying. Making this… (cue spooky music) The Summer of Death.

Morbid? Yes. But also true! The AP is in a bunch over the number of celebs who kicked it in the Summer of 2009 too. And New York Magazine, puts the number at 29 which nearly doubles their 1993 record of 15.

Numbers aside, the wattage of these stars are above average. Here’s the 11 I’ll miss most:

Walter Cronkite: What's the coolest thing you can say about the Most Trusted Man in America? He was made into a Muppet -- a grouchy journalist called Walter Cranky!
Best Quote: “Objective journalism and opinion column are about as similar as the Bible and Playboy magazine.”

Dominick Dunne: He was driven by the murder of his own daughter (and the slap on the wrist her boyfriend received for killing her), so I loved his coverage of high-profile criminal trials. It’s rumored that he got his big break in the literary world by being seated next to Vanity Fair editor, Tina Brown, at a dinner party. I really need to start eating out more.
Best Quote: “I’m sick of being asked to weep for killers. We’ve lost our sense of outrage.”

Farrah Fawcett: I saw the world's most popular pinup in Newark Airport years ago, coming off the red-eye from California. She really did have great hair.
Best Quote: “The reason that the all-American boy prefers beauty to brains is that he can see better than he can think.”

John Hughes: Man, I still can’t get over this one! This guy made me want to spend my teenage years in the suburbs of Chicago -- riding a parade float while singing Twist & Shout, blowing out the candles on my 16th birthday cake, and sitting in detention with a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess and a criminal. He WAS the 80's.
Best Quote: “I don’t think of kids as a lower form of the human species.”

Michael Jackson: I’ve already told you how I feel about this one. But to me, June 25th was more than just the day the music died. It's also the day my boyfriend and I went on our 2nd date. We visited 5 Napkin Burger, where he ordered a delicious bacon burger and I ordered... a burger salad. Lame choice. Surprised he didn't tell me to beat it.
Best Quote: “Through it, my music, I know I will live forever.”

Billy Mays: What can I say about this densely-bearded fellow that I haven’t already said? His sales pitches were irresistable! I now have a Big City Slider Station in his honor, which I keep at my parents house in Florida because my apartment is too small.
Best Quote: “I don’t take on a product unless I believe in it. I use everything that I sell.”

Frank McCourt: I had the pleasure of meeting this kind man after the success of his memoir, Angela's Ashes, when I worked in book publishing. He truly was as charming, humble, and utterly delightful as you'd imagine.
Best Quote: "I wasn't prepared for America, where everybody is glowing with good teeth and good clothes and food."

Ed McMahon: It’s true, his face got a little freaky looking towards the end, but how can you not want to hug this affable late-night sidekick? He was like a human laugh track. I even enjoyed his Cash for Gold commercials with MC Hammer!
Best Quote: “Johnny once described our relationship by saying we were as close as two people could be without being married.”

Les Paul: You've got to admire a guy who never learned how to read sheet music, yet he invented the sound of rock and roll. His Gibson electric guitars sell for thousands. And bonus points because he lived in Mahwah, NJ for many years… bada bing!
Best Quote: "My first guitar came from Sears & Roebuck and I believe it was $3.95."

Patrick Swayze: Loved him in Dirty Dancing, Youngblood, Road House, The Outsiders and Point Break (Ghost? Not so much). But you know my favorite PSwayz role? Orry Main in the TV miniseries, North & South. His views were questionable, but he really rocked that mullet.
Best Quote: “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.” (c’mon, did you REALLY think I’d choose anything less?)

The Taco Bell Dog: Little Gidget (who assumed the role from a Chihuahua named Dinky) was a sombrero-wearing face of controversy in the Hispanic community for reinforcing bad stereotypes. But the next time I chow down on a MexiMelt, I’ll think of you…
Best Quote: “Drop the chalupa!”

Honorable mention also goes to Dom DeLuise (loved his cookbook Eat This -- never trust a skinny cook!) and Bea Arthur (snarky Dorothy Zbornak was my fave Golden Girl). They technically passed on before the summer began, but were still pretty cool peeps.


So, Celebrities, do yourselves a favor and stay home this fall. Get a nice Netflix subscription, a Snuggie, and a soothing chai latte.

The world will thank you.

Did I miss any of YOUR favorites? Add them below!

The World Is Lousy with Jennifers

Don’t believe me?

Guaranteed you have a good friend, or a buddy at work, or a neighbor, or an ex-girlfriend, or a dogwalker named Jennifer (or Jenny or Jen, but NEVER Jenn or Jenifer or Genifer).

And probably not just one either -- more like five!

Take me, for example. When I was in college, my roommate for all four years was also named Jen. And by the time we were seniors, FOUR out of the EIGHT girls living in our house were named Jen (that’s 50% Jen!).

I’m totally convinced that one day, in the not so distant future, Jennifer will be a Scary Old Lady Name (much like Mildred, or Agnes) and retirement communities across the country will be overrun with them.

I can just imagine all the wrinkly old biddies that will pick up their confused little heads every time someone calls out that name. They’ll have to get nicknames to help differentiate, like Recently Had Hip Replacement Surgery Jen, and Always Forgets Her Glasses Jen, and Stinks Kinda Like Ben-Gay Jen.

It will be chaos.

Anyway, the pervasiveness of my name within my age group isn’t just a gut feeling. It’s a fact. According to the rankings issued by the Social Security Administration last week (and they ought to know!), Jennifer is now the 84th most popular girl’s name. Okay. But that’s in a world filled with Nevaehs (#34), Makaylas (#37), and Destinys (#48)…

Back in boring times, Jennifer first broke the top 20 most popular baby names in 1965. In its Glory Days, it ranked as the #1 girl’s name for FIFTEEN STRAIGHT YEARS -- from 1970 - 1984. In 1985, it slipped to #3 -- which was the beginning of its merciful descent.

The Reign of Jennifer makes it the 2nd most popular girl’s name in the last 100 YEARS. (In case you are curious, Mary takes the crown as the 1st most popular from 1909 – 1946 and again from 1953 – 1961.)

So… who cares (other than the obvious 8 gazillion Jennifers out there)?

Well, I think my peers who are now parents have also taken note of the “dime a dozen” quality of many of our first names and are coming up with better alternatives for their own kids. Back in February, I told you about 10 babies being born to my own family and friends, and now, they’ve all arrived – happy, healthy, and cute as buttons!

What’s better? They ALL have unique names! (Though it does NOT escape my attention that two of the moms listed below are also named Jennifer…)

Welcome to the World:

Lindsay (#380) JoyBorn in March to Cara & Mike (and big sisters Jillian & Alyssa)

Grace (#21) ElizabethBorn on May 6th to Liz & Steve

Rebecca (#119) Belle
Born on May 14th to Anne & Dave

William (#8) Charles
Born on May 22nd to Jen & Adam (and big sister Cielle and big brother Ryan)

Roya (*) LilyBorn on June 6th to Minoo & Rob
(*Roya is totally original and way too cool for a ranking!)

Lydia (#120) Rose
Born on June 10th to Jen & Nate

Peyton (#60) VictoriaBorn in July to Stacey & Lou (and big brother, little Lou)

Evan (#38) CarterBorn on July 30th to Joanna & Robert

Bryce (#116) ThomasBorn on August 7th to Sheila & Kyle (and big sister Lilly)

Matthew (#10) FinbarBorn on August 8th to Pam & Gerry (and big sister Elena)


Congrats to all the new moms and dads! Much love to all of you.

Now don’t let me be Little Miss Vain all by myself -- check how popular YOUR name is and add it to the comments below! And sorry, but “Anonymous” won’t appear on the list...

Sad Men

I was SOOO excited for Sunday’s Season 3 premiere of Mad Men (if you don’t watch it, please crawl out from under your pop-culture rock and read this recap immediately).

Being the MM veteran that I am, I Mad Men’ed Myself right into the offices of Sterling Cooper -- and yes, I stand by my decision to wear a pink polkadot party dress. I quizzed myself to find out Which Mad Man Am I? Turns out, I’m Betty “How’s Therapy Going?” Draper -- which says nothing good about me AT ALL, but whatevs. And I made a phone date with my mom to watch the show together, like we always do.

Except, I didn’t love it.

In fact, I didn’t even like it!

And it’s NOT because the subtle nuance is lost on my thick skull (yes, yes, I GET IT, the London Fog client is a metaphor for the smoke and mirrors in Don’s personal life, or the ad biz in general). And it’s NOT because the overt messages try too hard (pitting Pete and Ken as the dueling head of accounts was just plain silly, even though that actually happened to me once in real life -- and PS: I won). And it’s NOT because of the politically incorrect way they depict life in the 1960’s (that ballpoint pen in Sal’s shirt pocket sure was happy to see the bellboy, huh?).

It’s because it wasn’t entertaining. And that makes me sad.

Last year, I gave you 5 reasons I would miss Mad Men. Now, here are 5 reasons I'd like to forget Sunday’s episode entirely:

1. Warm Milk and Gross Feet
Warm milk is just disgusting, and I could REALLY do without that shot of the gloopy skin that forms on top. But more disturbing was the sight of Don Draper’s feet. If those Flintstone hammertoes were his, please require him to wear two pairs of socks. Simultaneously. At all times. I’m sure they revealed a lot of important backstory in that scene, but all I could think was… eeeeew!

2. Enough with the Screwing Around
Won’t Don EVER learn? I’m starting not to like him. At all.  As if banging a random stewardess that looks an awful lot like his pregnant wife, Betty, wasn’t enough, giving said stewardess’s silver airplane wings to his daughter, Sally, as a souvenir from the road was just too much. Stop being slimy.

3. Not Enough Roger Sterling
Now THIS womanizer with a bum ticker needs to be in every scene. Having the Silver Fox breeze thru for like 30 seconds was cruel and unusual.

4. Peggy Olson Needs to Chillax
I understand that she’s a woman in a man’s world and if she could turn her boobs into balls she would. But why is she so freaking uptight?

5. Pull Up Your Diapers, Whiny Pete
You can just picture Pete Campbell whining, “But Daddy, I want an Oompa Loompa nooooow!” Can we PLEASE see how he dealt with the news that he knocked Peggy up and she gave their kid away?! Nobody cares about his new desk accessory that boldly declares, “The Buck Stops Here.”


Oh! And in the “You Can’t Be Serious” department, um… lemme get this straight: Did Dick Whitman’s mother really name him after a…? Geez. No wonder he switched his name to Don.

Anyway, I kept watching. And kept waiting for it to get better. 52 minutes later, and no dice. But I did enjoy the BMW commercials!

So, did YOU watch? Did you like? And, seriously… can anyone tell me what the hell was UP with dreamy Don Draper’s feet??

Et Tu, Jersey?

Ok. Let me start by saying, you know I love New Jersey.

I repeat: I LOVE NEW JERSEY.

Of course, this sentiment is not universally shared. My home state has a (largely undeserved) negative reputation across our nation, generally surrounding the notion of being smelly.

Fine. Funny, even.

Each day when I wake up, before my sock-covered feet even hit the floor, I check my work email. Sure, I also check it before I go to bed, but you just never know what happens overnight! And I hate to come into the office and be hit with any surprises. Today when I awoke, a breaking news bulletin from WNBC made it crystal clear that The Jerz would take one on the chin...

The email was entitled, “Dirty Jersey.” Hmmm, I thought. That can’t be good.

Actually, it was quite bad. Did we REALLY need to architect a government-sanctioned scheme that involved -- among other gems -- laundering money from the sale of black market KIDNEYS through a charity run by rabbis? (Incidentally, if you were in the market for this organ, a cool $160,000 was the asking price.)

I mean, come ON!

Hoboken Mayor? Arrested! Secaucus Mayor? You too! Jersey City Deputy Mayor? Cuffed and stuffed!

Unreal. Sure, there were also some arrests in Brooklyn as part of this undercover sting operation, which involved over 300 federal agents. But it’s a small detail lost in the almost giddy news coverage.

The NY Daily News sums it up, delivering the boom, boom, pow. First, they quoted an FBI official, "New Jersey's corruption problem is one of the worst, if not the worst, in the nation." Then, just incase you missed the point, the US Attorney's office chimed in, "The arrests underscore 'more than ever the pervasive nature of public corruption in this state.'" Finally, they rubbed editorial salt in the wound for good measure, “The takedown is stunning in its breadth, even by New Jersey standards.”

EVEN by New Jersey standards. Awesome.

Umbrellas Are the New Pants

Rain, rain go away. I’m one soggy little muffin.

You wouldn’t leave home without your pants, right? Well, these days the same holds true for the old umbrella (ella, ella). It can rain at any moment! You need to be prepared!

Ever since NYC relocated to Seattle, everybody’s talking about this gloomy weather.

And NO, this isn’t the rainiest June ever (that happened back in 2003), but it’s pretty damn close. We might even end up breaking a record set in Ye Olden Days (1903) for the coldest June ever. Which means everybody’s cranky.

I think the best line I’ve heard so far came from a friend’s Facebook status.

She said: “I want to punch this weather in the face.”

I’m SICK of the rain too. And don’t even get me STARTED on the havoc it’s wreaking on my hair. I may just skip showering entirely and shampoo on the streets. Would be more efficient.

Here’s the Top 10 things I’d rather see in the sky, instead of storm clouds:
1. Jellybeans
2. Purple unicorns
3. Spencer Pratt’s flesh-colored beard
4. A disco ball
5. A million bats
6. Smog
7. The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man
8. Killer bees
9. Dandruff
10. Um… the sun

Feel free to hurl insults at this never-ending low pressure system in the comments below…

Germs Make Me Sick

So I’ve been trying to mind my own business with this Swine Flu epidemic (only occasionally staring suspiciously at those who so much as sniffle). And I’m ok with my odds. I mean, how many millions of people live in NYC? Eight maybe? And there’s only been a couple of hundred confirmed cases of the dreaded flu in the whole entire US. I can live with that.

But do you know what stat really makes my skin crawl? The fact that the average desktop computer carries 400x more bacteria than the average toilet seat.

Hold up.

You mean MY keyboard? The same one I’m using to type on RIGHT NOW? Dirtier than a TOILET? Are we talking a public toilet, or the one in my house? And what about my mouse? Or my phone? Or my desk?

Blech. It’s enough to make me call in sick to my stomach.

We just moved offices at work, so I took the opportunity to give my keyboard a good shake shake shake. And it’s true -- it was not clean, but it wasn’t exactly a budding Chia Pet of Filth either.

I freed an inordinate amount of gray fuzz, a bunch of eyelashes (?) that I can only assume were mine, and slightly fewer poppy and sesame seeds than you’d find on an everything bagel.

Nasty gunk? Yes. Worse than a toilet? Not quite.

Of course, the biggest biohazards are what you DON’T see. For instance, it doesn’t matter that you wash your hands after you use the restroom. Chances are, you touch something on your way out -- the faucet, the paper towel rack, the door handle -- that’s just littered with bacteria from people (dirty dogs) who haven’t. That sneaky bacteria is just waiting to come along for the ride back to your desk. Which I’m sure it does.

Wheeee!

Another major culprit is eating lunch at your desk. Wayward crumbs encourage bacteria growth, which IS unfortunate because Dining al Desko is something I do pretty much every day.

Suddenly, my office is a bacteria cafeteria.

Well played, old germ. Well played.

The moral of the story? The 5-Second Rule is now officially off when something falls on your desk. Turns out, you’re much safer licking a toilet.

Will Work for Money

I generally avoid blogging about anything serious -- this is supposed to be fun, right? But I also feel like I’m pretty truthful here (why else would I admit to my unhealthy obsession with The Hills?).

So if I’m being honest, I’d say if this recession is teaching us anything, it’s that we’re all poor. And we’re all to blame.

What does that mean?

It means, I don’t care if you make $50K or $50MM -- no matter how much we earn, we live like we earn more. From $5 cups of coffee, to $150 jeans, to $500 shoes, to $1500 handbags, to $50K cars, to $1MM McMansions, spending is OUT of control. Now we’re feeling the consequences. And because of crazy spending, most of us don’t have that fund, where 8 full months of our salary is just sitting, waiting for a rainy day.

I know I don’t have such a fund. But I DO know it’s raining!

In an environment where companies in every city, across every industry are freezing salaries, asking for voluntary pay cuts, and laying off perfectly good, hardworking people, the only thing any of us really knows for sure is that we really don’t know what will happen at work tomorrow.

I totally get there’s this outrage right now over AIG bonuses, on the heels of the outrage over automakers flying to their bailout hearings in private jets, on the heels of Citibank continuing to fund a baseball field, on the heels of many ill-advised corporate retreats and holiday parties. The list goes on. And on.

And the “Average Joe or Jane” gets angrier and angrier.

I agree, it is OUTRAGEOUS, and they say rich white guys are to blame. Maybe they are. But from Wall Street to Main Street, this is about greed, plain and simple. So it’s not only about the color of your shirt collar. It’s also about keeping up with the Joneses. And we all do it.

Want to know why?

Just turn on the TV. Excess is everywhere. Like any of us really needs a 24-carat gold bidet? (That’s gross.) Or an iPhone? (A newer/better model is always around the corner.) Or a Slanket? (It’s just plain weird.) No! But we buy these and about a million other unnecessary things because when you get right down to it, WE LIKE STUFF. Especially when it’s NEW stuff! Or at least, we used to.

As a both marketer and a consumer, I realize I’m part of the problem. I’d suspect many of us are asking ourselves, do we WANT an item, or do we NEED it? And let's face it...

Many of us are fortunate enough to say we want most things, we don't need them.

I think the brands that acknowledge this -- that embrace what’s going on with the economy (like Hyundai’s buy-back program if you lose your job, or Disney’s buy 4 get 3 free vacations, or even Old Navy’s $15 sundresses) will find that their relevance in this economic downturn won’t hurt their brands at all. It will instill trust. So that, as we consumers start earning money again, we can spend, spend, spend ‘till our fingers hurt!

Huh?!?

Well, I didn’t say we would actually LEARN from this economic badness, I just said we were to BLAME. After all, we’re Americans.

We can only resist something shiny and new for so long.

So, what say you?

Toilet Bowl Boyfriend

In keeping with the rules of Lent, I ordered up a plain cheese pizza tonight. About 15 minutes after I placed the order, my phone rang. Naturally, I assumed it was the lobby telling me the delivery guy was on his way up.

It wasn’t.

My mom was on the other end. She likes to check in to make sure I made it home safely. It’s cute, really. So we chit-chatted for a few minutes, and I think I successfully convinced her I would survive yet another day in the Big Bad City. Then, I happened to mention that I ordered a pizza. Plain cheese – just like Jesus likes it.

You’re familiar with the phrase, “no good deed goes unpunished,” yes? Well, the conversation went a little something like this:

MOM: Oh no…
ME: What?
MOM: It’s just…well, I just thought you were in for the night.
ME: I am in for the night. The pizza comes to me.
MOM: But you have to open the door.
ME: Yes, that’s generally how food gets inside.
MOM: But you don’t know who this guy is.
ME: Yes I do. He’s the pizza delivery guy.
MOM: But you don’t know what he’s up to.
ME: Delivering pizzas, I think.
MOM: He could take advantage of the situation.
ME: What situation?
MOM: That you’re ALONE.
ME: Huh?
MOM: You hear about it all the time on the news.
ME: Mmm-hmm…
MOM: Flush the toilet when the doorbell rings!
ME: Okay…
MOM: Then, turn on the shower. Are you writing this down?
ME: Uh-huh…
MOM: I’ll send you some of Dad’s pants. Underwear too.
ME: (silence)
MOM: You can keep them on the couch.
ME: Awesome.
MOM: That way, he’ll know you’re not alone.

So, let me get this straight: I need to invent a hungry slob of a boyfriend who orders dinner, then leaves his dirty clothes strewn all over the living room BEFORE taking a dump (and a shower!), just to trick a random delivery guy into believing I’m not alone.

Being single is SO complicated.

Ooh That Smell

Work was crazy the whole month of February. So I was kind of in a news blackout. Well, I’m all caught up now, but I couldn’t let this story pass by without commenting. From the department of Old News, comes this gem…

Mayor Mike Bloomberg held a press conference to inform concerned New Yorkers that the maple syrup smell which has randomly flooded the air since 2005 can be attributed to…

New Jersey!

Ugh. How can this BE? I remember that smell! It was so strong. Like I was carrying pancakes in my purse. How on Earth could it have been coming from a totally different state? And New Jersey of all places! Like we need to add fuel to the Jersey Smells fire. This is serious. The time has come: We must stage an intervention. So here is my open letter to a state I love:

Dear Jersey,

You know the old saying, “It’s not you, it’s me”? Well, old friend, I have it on good authority that it is, in fact, YOU.

Shut down the factories. Roll up the windows on the Turnpike. Stand upwind during low tide. Generally just stop smelling. Please. Let somebody else be the Stinky State.

Signed,
A Congested Former Citizen

Over the Hills

Tonight was the season finale of The Hills on MTV. Now, I don’t watch The Hills (yes I do), but if I did (and I do), I would tell you that I don’t know why I tune in season after hideously painful season (that one’s actually true, I really have no clue).

There’s a part of me that absolutely hates to be left out of any pop culture phenomenon, and let’s face it, for better or worse, The Hills is one -- as was its predecessor, Laguna Beach. And even if you don’t watch (like me), you can’t help but stumble across the dozen or so semi-celebrities that the shows have spawned over the years (the most useless by FAR being Justin Bobby -- trust me).

So whether you’re a casual observer or true student of The Hills, you’ve probably heard that Heidi & Spencer -- barfingly known as Speidi -- have recently tied the knot. Or have they?

Here’s my list of 5 things that are more real than their marriage:
1. Velveeta
2. Unicorns
3. Blue carnations
4. Pleather
5. Bernie Madoff’s $50 B ponzi scheme

One thing’s for certain -- The Hills are alive with the sound of fakeness. Now here’s a truth: I’d REALLY like to make a clean break from this show. I think I get dumber each time I watch. Yet, if left to my own devices, I fear I’ll tune in AGAIN when it comes back for season 5 in the spring. And I ask you, if I watched Newport Harbor (which I did -- don't judge), is there ANY doubt I’ll get sucked into the spin-off vortex that is The City, and – God help me – Bromance?

This is serious. I’m 35.

My last remaining brain cells are screaming for help. Is there a support group I can join? A 12-step recovery program? Should I go all biblical and just poke my eyes out? Please stage an intervention below.