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.


Saturday, January 7, 2012

"Don't Cry for Me Argentina"

So I just got home from drinks with one of my best friends, Lindsay. We went to a wine place where the idea is to taste a bunch of wines, pick your fav, then buy a glass. We tried two, then decided it was cheaper to buy a bottle.

Earlier today she bought a FABULOUS and I mean seriously fabulous pair of shoes. So we found a couch, curled up with our bottle of wine and stared at her shoes (for what is probably considered a lunatic amount of time - whatever, they're fucking fabulous).

We soon realized there was a girl who had come to the wine bar with the waterworks fully turned on. She was full on crying at the table with her friend. Umm...inappropriate.  Now I am all for the wine + tears = self healing. However, PUBLIC PLACE is not included in that equation.  Girlfriend had her hand right above her eyebrow and her head cocked down, as if to hide herself. Umm yah I can see you. You look stupid. Stop crying in a public place. You want to cry at home while drinking wine and watching sex and the city - go for it. You want to cry and get wasted before going to a trashy bar looking for a guy who's only borderline heinous to sleep with for self medication - go for it.  You want to get dressed up, go to a fancy wine bar, and cry at a table next to my friend in her fabulous shoes -
DONT. FUCKING. DO. IT.

Lindsay says "what if her mother just died?".
"Umm and she went to a fucking wine bar to mourn? "
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