Dear Ryan Seacrest,

Dear Ryan Seacrest,
I need my own tv show. It's not so much a want, more a need. For both of us.
A bit about me: I am a typical 9 to 5'er (correction 9 to 6'er, that whole "9 to 5 bit" is a major falsity, I'll write to whoever started that lie later), who feels my talents would be better served in front of the camera of my own half hour (could be an hour if the editing was done right) television show. I am willing to do almost anything on my show (well except maybe bite the head off of a pigeon a la Ozzy Osbourne, but definitely don a unitard and walk the streets of Los Angeles with a midget a la Chelsea Handler - I love love love miniatures, but that's a separate letter). I am also great with people and can chase them down in 5 inch heels if necessary (don't ask). I think alcohol is 50% of the food pyramid and carbs should be the other 50. I used to be so ugly I had to sneak up on water to get a drink. I have a dating history that rivals "Another World" (RIP). I can also have an entire conversation with an answering machine or any other inanimate object.

Call me.


P.S: I don't eat meat.


Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Have you ever played that game "what here doesn't belong"?

Have you ever been introduced to someone and on the outside you look as if you're paying attention, but 2 seconds later if that person asked you what their name was you'd just stare at them?

Have you ever met someone 3 times, had extended conversations, had mutual friends, heard about them multiple times and then seen them at a party and go "I don't think we've met"? No. Probably not. Because you're. not. stupid.

This past weekend I attended this fancy schmancy party. Immediately I had to repeat my fancy party mantra "Be. Appropriate. Be. Appropriate". I tend to make jokes/inappropriate comments when situations  are too serious (reeeeeal awkward at funerals).  I also tend to shout inappropriate things as if I'm a tourettes person having a panic attack, when I feel like people are taking themselves too seriously - hence my fancy party mantra.

In trying to decide what to wear I decided peplum and pearls were appropriate, so naturally I wore animal print pants - nothing says fancy like leopard spots spread across your ass. My Prada black booties were AMAZE, however, it was POURING rain outside, obviously I couldn't ruin them (see redneck run) so naturally I wore flip flops. I figured I'd just change them in the bathroom right when I got to the party. Unfortunately when we arrived we were basically IN the party. I panicked and immediately took off my shoes. It was then that the owner of the house came over to introduce himself. There I stood - shoeless, in my lime green rain jacket, and wet leopard. I handed him my bag with my flip flops and said "err thanks. Love the house".  I might as well have been wearing a sign "I. Don't. Belong - Not. Fancy".

After I got my shit together I mingled (aka: I drank heavily) and ate some food. I asked where the lil smokies and bagel bites were, but no luck - it was dip with names I couldn't pronounce with ingredients I couldn't decipher. Oh well no food = more alcohol.

Around this time she talked in. I'll just call her "Bee" (I could call her "I have shit for brains and no facial recognition capabilities" but that seems excessive). She is really good friends with one of my best friends. My friend has insisted for over a year now that Bee is a "really good person" and that sometimes she just doesn't come across the best (aka: ignoring me at her Christmas party). So for the I was determined (against my better judgement) to give her a chance. We've met several times and hey, fourth times the charm. Below is the conversation that ensued:

Bee: "Hiii, I'm Bee"
Me: "Hi"
*my friend says my name*
B: "Ohh, what's your name? I don't think we've met?"
Me: "umm, no. WE.HAVE."
B (slightly panicked at looking at my friend): "ohhhh, umm, I thought she said your name was Erin?"
Me: "uh huh, yah, NO".

Then I walked away. Over it. If you want to be a bitch - I can accept that. If you want to ignore me - then you're a bitch, but once again I accept that. If you want to act like WHITNEY, sounds like ERIN - then you're stupid and I can't be friends with stupid people.

The moral of this story: Be yourself. Unless yourself is stupid - in which case - stay home. Or move - - far far away.

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