The lion fell in love with the lamb, and the world fell in love with a vampire

An article I wrote for class:

There are three things known to be absolutely positive.

First, vampires are the new wizards.

Second, there is some part of this vampire love story—we are not sure how dominant that part might be—that fans crave.

And third, people are unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Twilight.

Whether or not you have read the books, seen the smash-hit movie, been to a mall within the last month or just channel surfed by a preview, it’s hard to avoid being bitten by the pale-faced, handsome heart-throbbed Twilight bug.

Following a similar trail left by the Harry Potter epidemic, the best-selling novel series turned movie pulled in $70 million in its opening weekend. Merchandise depicting the unusually good-looking cast of teens fills shelves just in time for the holiday season, from t-shirts and jewelry to posters and life-size cutouts. Twilight is everywhere.

Not since Sarah-Michelle Gellar was slaying fang-faced villains with stakes in the 1990s have supernatural blood-suckers been so hot; Twilight has brought vampires back just as Justin Timberlake redelivered sexy. For first time author Stephanie Myer writing this risqué-teen-vampire love story meant late night typing after the kids were tucked in.

All based on a dream about an attractive young couple—one beautiful girl and her dashing, sparkling vampire lover—discussing their forbidden love in a meadow. Meyer woke up and began writing her way into literary and pop-culture history.

An unsuspecting clumsy beauty named Bella Swan falls for the devastatingly handsome outcast Edward Cullen who just so happens to crave her blood…literally. It’s not so much your typical teen-flick about pretty boy meets conflicted girl or vice versa—and not only because of the whole vampire thing.

“I love Bella! She isn’t that peppy, looking for romance, going through 50 guys to find it kind of girl in other books” says Sara Gove, a freshman at Bristol Plymouth High School. Bella is clumsy, awkward and uncomfortable around the people at her new school and Edward is the epitome of that-kid-who-sits-mysteriously-in-the-corner-of-the-cafeteria-avoiding-other-everyone-else.

Meyer fell in love with her vampire leading man and cared for the young girl like a daughter; these reactions hold steady with the millions of readers enjoying the whole four book series. The world has fallen for Twilight as hard as Edward for Bella for each other, but why do we love them so much?
Professor Craig Seymour of Northern Illinois University thinks that these characters speak to people on a more personal level. “Vampires are interesting because they personify the danger that’s inherent in any sort of romance. There is always a risk when giving yourself over to someone” he explains. Romance can be dangerous and Twilight exemplifies this through the forbidden love between a girl and her vampire—in this case, Bella is literally risking her life to be with the man she loves. Seymour says it is interesting that Twilight is so popular during these hard times. People are willing to escape into this fictional world and fantasize about breaking the rules a little for love.

Gove assures that these characters are relatable and that the novel shows a good idea of high school life, minus the whole vampire thing. People are drawn to that realism with a hint of supernatural. Gove admits that she thinks that it’s fun to put yourself in the story. “It’d be cool to meet a vampire that you fall in love with that didn’t want to kill you” she giggles.

This fantasy life isn’t just for the high school kids either, “I imagine myself in the story,” says Sarah Hills, college sophomore at the University of Mass. Dartmouth and admitted die-hard Twilight fan. She explains, “Everyone in the story is so real and then there are these supernatural beings and you can’t help but think, ‘Could this really happen?’” Hills read the first three books in six days over the summer out of curious boredom and hasn’t turned back since. Although she had issues with some acting choices in the movie, she still has seen the film three times since its release. “Girls love that Romeo and Juliet aspect—it’s that forbidden love,” Hills confesses, “and I know girls can appreciate that there is no sex, it’s not about that—just a lot of romantic tension.”

“I think it helps that they’re all sexy!” assuredly blurts out a recent new-comer on the Twilight wagon, Molly-Katherine Howarth, also a sophomore at the University of Mass. Dartmouth. She was also swept away by the inherent desire to find your true love, “It is just such a good love story. It’s so believable and I guess, I just want to find my Prince Charming too.” She was introduced to the addiction by her already obsessed friend Hills who made Howarth go see the movie opening weekend. After a two-hour movie followed by eight hours of straight reading, Howarth fell hard for the vamps. Hills and Sarah look purely elated when discussing their theories on Twilight’s popularity while arguing whose “team” they are on—Hills resides on Team Edward (the vampire lover-boy) while Howarth roots for Team Jacob (the baby-faced werewolf).

Howarth may be ready to print up some “I ♥ Twilight” t-shirts now but she wasn’t so easily excited by the subject just a few weeks ago. “At first, I thought it was just Harry Potter 2.0; it was just going to ride on the coattails of the whole fantasy story excitement” she says. She really had nothing against the idea of a vampire love fest but she also had no expectations or any knowledge on the subject prior to the movie. Like many people, Howarth saw the movie first and then rushed out to grab all of the books. All that’s left is the year long wait till the sequel comes out.

Peter Gove, Sara’s father, has been watching firsthand the effects of Twilight on pretty much everyone. If Kristen Stweart (playing Bella Swan) was on Live with Regis and Kelly or Robert Pattinson (playing Edward Cullen) visited Jay Leno, Peter was there with Sara at the edge of her seat for every moment. After months of hearing his daughter talk about the books obsessively, he finally got to see what all the hype was about when he took her to the movie; “Sara was so excited to go opening day and I figured whatever, just another kids’ movie I can sleep through” he jokes. Despite his hesitations, Peter didn’t snooze his way through the theatrical adventure and was pleasantly surprised. “It was actually enjoyable” he says with disbelief.

That seems to be the general consensus among the whole world—it was enjoyable. Granted, that level of enjoyment has been taken in many different ways; some just sit back and fantasize about tasting that forbidden apple in the hands of a sexy teen vampire while others own all the merchandise down to the look-alike fashion trends and jewelry.

Once Twilight has gotten its hold on you, there is no turning back. You become a part of their world, forever in the clutches of the vampire’s grip; cursed to live an eternity with Edward Cullen in his sunlight-free world.

Can you avoid Edward’s hypnotic dark gaze? Or will you submit to his temptations of an eternal life from just one bite. You can only fight fate for so long before there is no saving you…

Upperclass

Back in the day, being a senior in school was the ultimate. You ruled the school and no one asked questions especially not those measly little freshman nobodies.

Freshman: "Umm, where's the library?"
Senior: "Hehehe, uhh it's on the 5th floor off of the purple elevator near the pool."

Silly upperclassman, there is no pool, purple elevator or 5th floor!*

*(This is all from the prospective of someone who actually gave a shit about this stuff in high school/cared about social rankings.)

Now it's that time again-- I'm a senior yet again. Do I want to be? Not particularly. Do I crave the power and ability to haze unsuspecting newbies? Meh. I actually feel quite the opposite. Having never been personally harassed by someone of a higher school ranking I have no intention of seeking revenge on people four years younger then me (side note: in coming class of 2012 was born in 1990--no more 80's babies, that's gross).

My first year at UMassD was socially, kind of a breeze. First semester, when I wasn't home every weekend with my bf I was in my room under a miniature man made blanket and pillow fort like you'd make as a child. Why the Twin XL sheet fortress? My roomie insisted the light on my laptop was too bright for her precious I-go-to-bed-at-9 p.m.-eyes. Right so that wasn't exactly a dive into the social pool of beer pong and pre-gaming any activity involving breathing. When I finally got thrown into the not-so-deep end, I made friends fast with surprisingly 12 seniors all graduating that coming spring.

They welcomed me and the other youngins’ in with open arms, a shot glass in one hand and, well, one in the other. These people taught me everything I needed to know about theater (we were all members of the Theatre Company) and about life in general--how to enjoy your 4 (sometimes 5) years in college to the fullest and not to let a minute go to waste.

Graduation that year was rough. Our fearless leaders left us with a last resort leader and a group of determined kids pumped to give it their all. Now, it's our turn. My class is now that class--the upperclassmen that have the fate of the future generations in their hands. We must take the little impressionable runts under our arms and out till 5 a.m. building bonfires in the woods, climbing the tallest tower on campus and watching the sunset and then rise all in one night.

We fully intend on living it up this year while showing the new kids what they have to look forward to in the next four years and leaving them with the tools they need to survive...minus all the abuse, spankings with wooden paddles or ritualistic sacrificing of rookie blood.

OMG Teen Choice

1. Miley Cyrus (and her two reported rivals Demi and Selena)
2. Giant surfboard awards
3. The Jonas Brothers
4. and every other screamtastic celeb gracing the Hollywood hills this season

Teen Choice Awards 2008 took the shreaking jailbait world by storm. Opening with a shameless plug for Miley and her number one album, the hostess with the mostess gave a rose to Fergie, threw herself at Zac Efron and even serenaded a one Mrs. Nick Jonas, Selena Gomez (the two have unknowingly admitted to dating when both described the same favorite first date to two different mags).

After the casual stroll around the celeb strewn crowd it was obvious that the million dollar baby herself was taking this show rather lightly and just had a teen-girl blast with it. Miley brought the famed Mandy (the other half of the Mandy and Miley Show) and just acted strangely sincere and honest--like she was filming one of those youtube vids of hers. Although unconventionally intersting there are mixed reviews on the choice in host, lypsynching performers in booty shorts and the dance off between A.C.D.C. and the M&M Crew (as made famous by youtube celeb filled battles).

Shmanderz And Shmilez wrapped up the show with their big win for hottest dance crew and other big surf board recipients included The Jonas Brothers and Gossip Girl. As a fan of the young Hollywood scene the show was a success for me-- the most famous/controversial teen in the world right now hosting a show about the other hottest kids under 20 plus fashion, music, famous people and dancing? Yes please.

MAINE: The way life should be...

...or at least that's what the highway welcome sign told me.

The way life should be, hmmm. Gas at $4.00 a gallon? Terrible national credit? Mortgage crises? Aahh, the life! Well it's the life when you don't have to worry about all of that and you can retreat to a four-acre multi-million dollar compound in beautiful Kennebunkport, ME!
















While on vacation with a friend and her family in Ogunquit they just raved about the beautiful Bush vacation spot (shown above) and said we just had to visit. As we drove through the windy stonewalled beach front properties owned by such billionaires as the creator of E-Harmony, out in the distance appeared Bush Land. On its own peninsula it was secluded, lavish and exceedingly gorgeous. Once you get past the security hut, the secret service and several people zipping around on Segways you come upon three, maybe four smaller mini-mansions before the big presidential castle. Obvi us peasants were not allowed to even approach the first security checkpoint but especially not on this day when they were preparing for the man himself.

There were large white event tents being set up along the water (as seen in the sweet paparazzi-esque photo I took) because the Pres is on his way tomorrow (Thursday)! "Junior's coming!", shouted the older absurdly loaded neighbors. Who knows what kind of wonderful adventures B.W. has planned for his vaca? I do know that the gas to get him all the way up here will be insane, the houses being built around will have cost unfathomable prices, and he will be just kickin' back doing nothing important just where America expects him.

Oh, she's just being Miley

http://youtube.com/watch?v=4g7rKQV9SkE

After that less than mature youtube video rumble between Miley and those other Disney girls it seems like Billy's baby didn't mean to break any hearts. Although it sounds like a clever cop-out instead of a genuine apology, at least its an attempt for peace...right?

Why can't we all just get along, make a Disney Channel movie together, date different boy band members and bask in our super popular mega-star glory?

Jon and Kate Plus 8...plus me!

Jon x Kate = Maddie + Cara + Alexis + Hannah +
Aaden + Collin + Leah + Joel...+ Me!

No, I'm not the ninth adorable baby Asian addition to this (mostly) happy household but I am in fact invited into their too crowded house on a daily basis to join in the chaos and so are you!

Jon and Kate started filling their rooms with camera crews shortly after the sextuplets were born. Now almost three years later, TLC still make up the 9th, 10th...16th members of the Gosselin home. Natural stars from the overpopulated womb, these babies knew how to fill the lens with puppy dog eyes and and tiny cherubic smiles. It all began with a couple of documentaries on raising multiples and the insanity that ensues until America (and I mean like the whole country) fell head over tiny baby croc heels in love with this adorable litter.

They are now a weekly sensation every Monday night on TLC and rerun at a minimum of 4-6 times per day. No it's not just soccer moms who sit home and take notes from Kate's never ending list of advice (both for raising 8 kids and for cleaning). Dads like to watch it because they root for Jon in every seemingly frivolous battle royal about marker usage and proper dusting techniques, kids enjoy watching other wee ones playing the same games-- even the famous 8 like watching themselves according to mom and dad.

Everyone has their favorite baby-- the majority seem to vote for the sweet specked Aaden while others love the itty bitty bubbly Leah. Whether you like the show for its teaching purposes or if you just love "aldergators" and marital spats Jon and Kate Plus 8 is for anyone with a heart or a soft spot for precious little Asian punims. We've watched them grow, heard them yelp, celebrated birthdays and "special days", learned how to use the potty and pulled at Jon and Kate's last straw and heart strings all from the comfort of our homes...where we will also be able to enjoy from afar the later years of Jon and Kate Plus 8 Teens!

Why I love POP

Oft refferred to as the new Mileys, Selena Gomez (the new Disney Channel starlet) and Demi Lovato (whoever she is) started up a youtube channel of their own--only to rival the infamous Miley and Mandy show. Apparently this happened a little while back but sadly my youtube stalking has lacked as of late so hear it is now...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OhGEO9XDmis

VS.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fzX92p2czw

Personally, I adore this little tiff between disgustingly rich pop teen princesses. Sure, this kind of petty drama took place in high school but was it anywhere near as interesting? NO. Here's why:

1. It wasn't aired on youtube


2. The boyfriend being stolen was not a Jonas Brother


3. It didn't involve Miley freakin' Cyrus (not her actual middle name)

Watch the vids if you can stomach them (I'd turn the volume down due to the pitch of a 15 yr. old girl's voice) and pick your side. I know mine.

ps. Your make-up is waaayy too dark Miss Lovato

A fat fad

Pink sparkley cell phones, Hannah Montana blaring in an equally pink iPod, using "OMG" and other abbreviations in place of real sentences, skinny jeans, baby bumps...wait a minute?

High school is filled with ever changing trends and fashion statements. The newest, hottest craze storming teens across America? Big baby filled bellies!

Where annoying butterfly charmed rings used to dangle in an alluring come and get me sort of way, maternity elastic pants now stretch to fit the stomachs of young girls. Now, in my hometown, teen pregnancy wasn't a shocker. In fact, not being preggers at prom was quite the feat. But ever since Zoey 101 kid star Jamie -Lynne blimped up and Ellen Page stuffed her t-shirt for Juno, and Katherine Heigl was happily ever after Knocked Up, girls apparently just can't be seen without their own real baby bubble.

By the by, congrats to Miss Spears for giving birth to baby Maddie Briann last week! Let's see how things turn out with that: 17 year old momma, college drop-out daddy and a whole lotta press!

In Gloucester, MA this past week, during the graduation and prom hullabaloo, an astounding 17 girls are greeting their summer vacations with a slightly more round bikini bod. All of the soon-to-be mothers are no older than 16 and apparently formed some sort of weird underage pregnancy cult pacting to get preggo together and help each other raise their children. High fives were exchanged outside of the school nurse's office after positive pee-stick testing.

Some school officials are blaming the preggers craze in Hollywood and shrinks might say it's the unwed mothers'-to-be need for unconditional love. The fathers are clearly out of the picture (the only confirmed sperm donor to the cause was a 24 year old homeless man. Maybe we should investigate why 16 yr olds are sleeping with homeless people...)

What will come of this infant explosion among teeny boppers? Who knows! Is it all the fault of Juno and Bleeker's adorable Mac & Cheese romance? Or Jamie-Lynn's real-life game of house with her southern boy toy? Perhaps. But regardless of these Hollywood excuses for bad parenting, I think there is something a little more serious going on with these girls. Maybe it's the school system's lack of sex-ed (parents request that nurses or anyone do not distribute condoms or promote safe sex since they're obvi doing a great job with their kids at home).

I only hope this new bun in the oven fashion trend doesn't stick around the high schools much longer. After popping out the not so wee one I 'm sure these girls will have some second thoughts and children having children will be so 2008.

rE!ality: Part 2

Denise, life's complicated, I get it.

The ex-Mrs. Sheen is most known for her slew of sexy but mostly skanky roles from Wild Things to Bond girl. Tabloids call her a gold digger, husband stealer, bitch, you name it she's heard it.

But Denise wants us to see her for the real down home farm girl from Illinois that she is. A mother of two, owner of too many dogs and pigs and a mourning daughter.

Watching this extremely censored show (Richards has the mouth of a disgruntled trucker), I can't help but just feel bad for the girl. She just can't cut a break. Charlie Sheen was a drug addicted, gambling douche bag, Richie Sambora only brought a smile to the paparazzi's faces and her mother died while in negotiations for the E! show. Ouch.

I'm glad she has the chance to tell her side of the story and I can even relate to her on some level. When my bf and I started dating he had just gotten out of a really bad relationship. We were very close for a long time but only as friends. As for his heinous girlf, we were well, frienemies. Anyway, he dumped her and a few months later we made it official. So the story goes for Richards, Sambora and Heather Locklier. I am still, almost a year later, referred to as a boyfriend stealer.

Now, I don't have photogs up my ass harassing me and declaring me a slut to the world but still, it's no fun being told you ruin relationships for your own pleasure and that's what Denise is trying to say along with swiping the parent card for good measure.

Aside from the anti-tabloid antics, the Richards family just likes to kick back in some Prada shoes with the pigs. Denise is trying to date again, her friends throw her a spa/how to be a stripper party to get her out of a rut and this is all while she is dealing with her mother's untimely death.

I may be biased but I think she is a pretty impressive woman and I look forward to hearing more of her bleeped out story as the show gets picked up for a second season!

Bitter(sans)Sweet

For the past heat waved week I have stowed away at a non-air conditioned UMD, mooched off of my friends and their freshman orientation program and bummed a ride with anything on four wheels. All of this was in a sad attempt to make a few dollars a night at the TV studio I work at.

Earlier this spring I applied for the sweetest job ever on campus for the summer--freshman Orientation Leader (OL). What does this entail? Well, any incoming college newbies are forced to spend a night on campus before school starts "learning" all they need to know about the school (how to sneak alcohol into dorms)and the location (best places to drink and not get caught) from their fearless leaders.

2 weeks of "training"+ 2 weeks of babysitting = $1,500 paycheck.

Like I said, sweet.

I applied for a position, bullshitting my way through the forms like the English major I am (never lying, only emphasizing). Along with my application went four of my other friends'--one frat boy and Mr. UMD (which might as well mean he's a Greek). Hmm who do you think got the job? Myself or my other non-Greek friend that applied? Nope because God knows ex-high school seniors need only be educated on how the frat system works in college, not how normal people live. More than half of the staff hired this sumer is in a fraternity or a sorrority.

I researched the winners of the OL application battle to find scantily clad, underaged blondes sipping Vodka from the bottle and Greek letter wearing meatheads. Sure, I sound like I am stereotyping and just jealous but in my opinion, which doesn't matter, kids shouldn't be taught how to live through college life from people who openly post pictures on Facebook of themselves shitfaced commenting, "OMG i was sooooo totally drunk lol ;)"

So after the initial uncovering of impending devestation to the future of these poor freshman souls, I decided to delve into the world of orientation to see what earns the big check: bowling, obstacle course running, karaoke, bus tours of New Bedford and free un-supervised housing where drinking and drug use is totally supported.

Now don't get me wrong, my TV job is in no way laborious but still just a tad more involved than karaoke. Yet I still was driven to Dartmouth, slept in an undisclosed location on campus, ate my friends food, used up all my boyfriend's gas (ps. he's an OL) and let him buy me lots of food with his alloted meal allowance so that I could work two hours a night filming middle school bands.

This was my last full week of paid shoots, I still don't have a car or another job lined up and have yet to recieve any income since school let out. Pretty much, life's awesome.

Sure this may be all you've heard from me whether in blog or in person for quite some time now but oh well. I'm done ranting.

rE!ality: Part 1

My latest addiction- E!'s juicy new summer line of couture celeb reality shows.

They had me when I was challenged to keep up with the Kardashian's and now I get to live with the Lohans and husband steal with Denise Richards!

We're all familiar with Lindsay's trainwreck lifestyle--multiple fender benders, hospitilizations, drug use, rehab, sucky movie roles, newfound lesbianism etc.-- but who knew she had a little sister? The not so shocking part however, mini Lohan wants to be exactly like her big sis. And helping the 14yr old along the way, her ever doting mother Dina.

Momma Lohan may not have the track record of Mrs. Spears (exhibit A and B: preggers Jamie-Lynne, Bonkers Britney) but she ain't no mother of the year either. I think the aim of Living Lohan is to show that the family isn't all the tabloids say it is and that the single mother of four(there's an adorable unaffected little brother and older brother Michael) is wholesome and has her kids' best interest at heart. But that perfect smile and all too smug attitude we see in the mags leads us to believe otherwise...

Episode 2 of the new rE!ality show: After Ali talks her mother out of wearing a see through little Stella Mcartney dress, Dina leaves the kids home with a teen babysitter to go to a magazine party which suprise, she was on the cover. The kids smell something like a gas leak or fire. Mommy doesn't hear her phone ring through the pouring martinis and pumping music. 11yr old Dakota calls the fire department himself. Momma Lohan makes it home only after her driver recieves a call about the fire and lets her know.

She's a classy broad that Dina.

I'm just saying, leaving the kids practically unattended and ignoring their calls for help while partying- not cool. Letting some 20 something unknown aspiring musician that has been stalking you online into your house to hang with your underage daughter alone-maybz a bad idea.

I will give Lilo's mom props on not letting the mean girls of high school bring down Ali, fighting the tabloids tooth and nail and for working so damn hard to manage her daughters' careers. It's just difficult to see past that Botox happy, bleach blonde facade to see a caring matriarch where a fame hungry attention whore seems to reside...

HAPPINESS is...against the rules

Friends are always supposed to have their friends’ best interests in mind. I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine. I’ll kick your skeezy ex bf’ ass, you kick mine’s. If you look like a stupid whore in that skirt, I won’t let you leave the house in it, etc. Right?

Apparently not. Happiness among friends, I’ve learned, goes only as far as their own state of mind:

1. If I’m not happy and you’re not happy, we’re both happy.
2. If I am happy and you aren’t, I’m happy.
3. And if you are happy and I’m not, then I’m a miserable bitch.
   

I can be bitter. I can be just as jealous and resentful as the next girl when it comes to not getting my way. But, I am trying (despite what friends may think) to not be so ridiculous over petty stuff. Deep down, I would never be angry or hostile towards anyone I love for something that makes them truly happy.

Cue my dilemma.

I have been seeing a pretty amazing guy for the past nine months or so now and couldn’t be happier (gross, I know). After secretly pining over him forever and hating his previous girlf, we took that bumpy romantic comedy-esque jump from friends to more than friends after he dumped the skank.

Anyway, before this cheese-fest of a sappy relationship began I was in what can best be described as the Bitter and Lonely Club. Freshman year I went through a pretty horrific high school break-up and was immediately taken in by an incredible group of people in my school's Theatre Company. The one thing outside of theatre that we had in common was that we were—you guessed it—bitter and lonely. Night after night was spent over pints of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food discussing the low-life male species and how they caused us so much strife.

Within seconds of my first kiss with Todd I was immediately thrown out of the B.L.C.--which I was ok with. I was no longer bitter and I was no longer lonely. As happy as I was now, dating the boy that had driven me to an ice cream-y mope-fest for months, I was thrown out of more than just the unhappy society. I was basically exiled from my whole circle of friends. Of course, to some extent I expected this, but not quite like it turned out. No I didn't expect them to throw me a party. Actually, I didn't even want to tell them what had happened. Not because of a lack of trust or anything, I just knew that on some level, they'd hate me.

Funny, one of the happiest moments in my college life thus far and I was too scared to share it with my best friends. Of course, I shared what I thought they could handle--we kissed, it's official, we're keeping it quiet so his crazy ex doesn't kill me.

I made it a rule that we not act all cute and coupley in front of anyone I knew because I know I would've hated it. But, obviously, some things were going to have to change. Todd was also a member of the Theatre Company and he was always around to begin with so it wasn't like I brought some stranger into the group or like I had to travel long distances for days just to see him. He was around like he always had been.

Right off the bat, I was treated differently. I no longer had a valued opinion, my presence was never really wanted but when I wasn't around, that made me a bad friend. No longer were basic invitations given to me and I was expected to just be there if I wanted to be and that was that. A few of my less openly hostile friends discussed my predicament with me but only to say that it was my responsibility to make the change in my lifestyle as easy as possible on those around me. Basically, let everyone walk all over me because it's the fair thing to do...

Fair. I was forced to suck it up and let people treat me like shit, exclude me from general fun and merriment all because I had the balls to take a chance and get a boyfriend. Well, I wasn't about to lose my biffs over something like this so, I allowed it. The thing that I probably got the most scolding for was unofficially moving into Todd's apartment. It started as a new relationship let's never be apart sorta thing but then it became very convenient for the both of us. I hated my actual living space for various reasons (it was like a mile from any of my classes and I liked 1 of 5 roommates). At Todd's I was able to be close to him, my classes and all of my other friends that basically visited 24/7. But alas, my happiness was too short lived and I will never live down the fact that I chose to stay there instead of my own place.

Nine months later, things have not improved. In fact, they've gotten worse if you can believe it. I am still not fully included in group activities. If I have a positive opinion towards anything at all, it is simply because I have bf or if I'm sad, that's not allowed because I am in a relationship...or so I am told. I desperately crave the fun girl nights that I am not allowed in on anymore because I miss them. I no longer get phone calls inviting me, I only see the tagged photos on facebook or read the away messages.

Confront them, you may suggest. Been there, been told off. Which leaves me where I am right now. I am forced to latch on to my boyfriend because I feel I have no one else. He is always there for me when my friends decide they don't want me around. Why should I mope and be lonely when at least he wants to spend time with me?

"Just have Todd bring you. You do everything with him anyway"--that's all I hear. It may be true but only because of necessity. I refuse to sit in my room and sulk about things when I know I have another option. He may be tired of my sobbing til three in the morning about how no one likes me anymore and that I have tried my hardest to make my friends want me around, but he still listens.

My resolution: well, I don't have one. I want my friends to like me for me and to know that I would never put a boy before them--or better yet, I wish they knew that from the start. Guess I will just keep doing what I am doing and worry about my own happiness. I can't make everyone happy and I won't let that affect how I live my life anymore.

Dinner for two please

Summer is in the air and babies are in celebrity bellies!

I think everyone in Hollywood is pregnant right now or at least toting around tinsletown’s latest must have accessory—a tiny tot. Whether freshly adopted from a third world country (what up Madonna’s baby) or just born to some young previously troubled rents (hey hey Harlow Madden) these itty bitty drooly arm decorations are everywhere!

Every magazine cover/gossip news segment announces one of three things:

1. Is (insert questionably preggers celeb name here) expecting twins?
2. Confirmed: Baby on the way for (insert impregnated famous person’s name here)!
3. How (insert no longer pregnant and now super skinny star’s name here) lost all that baby weight in 9 days!
   

Jessica Alba, Angelina, Jamie-Lynn, Nicole Kidman, Ashlee Simpson are all concealing everyone’s favorite bump (with the exception of Kidman who at six months has gained maybe 3lbs—I say she had too big a lunch and is passing that off as a pregnancy). Halle Berry, J-Lo, Salma Hayek, Christina Aguilera and Nicole Ritchie are all parental-newbies who have dropped all the baby weight and then some and picked up the coveted title of “Celebrity Mommy”.

Boys can play this game too. Jack Black just welcomed his second son, the littlest Hanson bro is all grown up/a new daddy and Harold Perrineau (Michael, LOST) added a new girl to his life. Even Idol vetran Clay Aiken has jumped on the reproduction line...well he artificially inseminated his 50-something-yr old best girl friend, but still.

If you aren’t fortunate enough to be one of these tummy touting headliners, no worries:

1. Don’t suck it in while wearing a super tight dress.
2. Gorge on some junk food in public.
3. Just be seen with a member of the opposite sex.
   

Voila! You’ve got yourself a fresh, hot bun in the oven rumor!

Back in Blog

So I leave the online blog-world I like to call home for maybe two weeks and what happens? A new American Idol was named, Rachael Ray promoted terrorism via a scarf in a DD ad, Clay Aiken "knocked someone up", Miley dropped Hannah and Wentzson tied the knot and finally announced their pre-marital pregnancy.

Phew, a lot to catch up on...Hollywood never sleeps and neither should I!

Obv I'll touch on these juicy gossip slices in blogs to come (very soon). I can't let these delicious drippings slip through the cracks of my laziness/procrastination. Summer will bring me more free time to do nothing but watch E!, read IN Touch and People while blaring my new duel personality free Miley CD (Breakout, 7/22).

This WILL be the first of many well tanned-bikini clad-fruity drink in hand-summer blog post.

So as the text savvy might say, "TTYS <3".

No more teachers, no more books

Yesterday was my last day of classes...wooo hoo! Right? Not really.

Sure, summer vacation is bitchen. Homework blows. Finals = sucky when it's beach-worthy weather. Meh.

All this may be true but I really don't care that school's out for summer. I (for the most part) kind of like my homework because it involves: post on my blog once a week...which I'm doing right now. Or write a portion of my memoir which I want to do anyway. My professors were all amazing and I had a kick ass schedule.

The three or so months between classes are not all they're cracked up to be. Follow me--we have to pack up all of our shit that has accumulated over two whole semesters, move out of our dorms where we are free to live by our own rule-free rules and we head home most likely far far away from friends. Personally, I have no friends from like high school or in my town so leaving UMass can be very lonely. I do love the extra quality time with the fam but even they get sick of that after like a week.

Luckily all of my close friends are just that- they live within in a not so distant trip. Since I totally don't have a car however (different blog for another day) no matter where my amigos rest there academic hats, I can't get to them.

And summertime jobs. How much do those suck? Not everyone is lucky enough to spend their summers vacaying on Myrtle Beach all tanorexic (both too tanned and skinny for this matter) sipping umbrella trimmed, sugar rimmed drinks. Last summer, I spent my days in high waisted, highly unattractive khaki pants and an equally unflattering too big t-shirt touting the logo of Smokey Bones: BBQ Grill. Swimming laps around a vat of mustard based barbecue sauce instead of fresh salty sea water = not my idea of an enjoyable break. Not to mention the horrific pay and mediocre tips.

Later this month, or next week for that matter, I have nothing concrete lined up. A few applications will be in the mail, an interview in place but nothing salary guaranteeing. No income to assure a road romping trip with fellow cabin fevered folks. Between shifts of buff-a-cue chicken serving in Summer 07, I was fortunate enough to be one of the elite beach dwellers on the exclusive isle of Nantucket (only affording the trip because of a friendly invite and free bed).

It may be too late to assure a more invigorating May-August 08 but I know at the end of it all I have September to look forward to and my (eek) senior year. School has friends within walking distance, no curfews or regulations and a workstudy job which is like free money. My 21st birthday does fall nicely between spring and fall which holds potential for making this vacation worthwhile.

We'll see how the sizzling season unfolds but until then, I will take advantage of the university and the free two weeks of no finals or classes where I can enjoy what college is really for--staying up till 4am riding around town, an iPod on shuffle and a slurpee with amazing people and waking up at 2 in the afternoon to repeat the more than fulfilling cycle.

Famous people get sick too

All the Beautiful (but mostly slutty) Girls and their stripper pole boyfriends came out of the Dartmouth woodwork for Sean Kingston's UMD spring concert.

The (not so) much awaited performance sponsored by Campus Activities Board was a semi-success. Other schools get Kanye, Paramore or Fall Out Boy...UMD got Kingston and Blessid Union of Souls (they were big in the 90's with that song "Hey Leonardo"). Apparently, these bands were all CAB could afford, so the campus had to settle.

After a killer 65 minute set from Blessid, including their few singles and a Queen throwback, the Jamaican teen wonder and his hype man cleverly named "Hype King" took the small black stage.

Suddenly, all 575 audience members stood up or rushed the stage. Too small tube tops struggled to stay put, mini-skirts inched up bouncy legs and guys positioned themselves accordingly for their chicks to grind up on. Yeah, college kids at their absolute finest. Sean was only joined by his crowd pumping partner and a DJ. Right off the bat, the barely legal Biggie look-alike wasn't quite up to par. Assumably out of breath due to his teddy bear frame, he was just kind of walking back and forth, singing with the track every so often.

About 35minutes flew by and Sean was sneaking off stage and sending a peace face his fans' way. Left a little disappointed, the $20 ticket holders filed out next. As a tech worker, equipped with a backstage pass, my friends and I slipped behind the curtains and formed a line in front of the makeshift tent housing the "Take Me There" rapper.

Two at a time. One photo. One autograph.

We followed instructions and got another celeb pic for my ever growing collection. While trying to wrap my arms around the big man, it was clear he was not well--all sniffley, congested and wheezing. Aww, his invincible fame-immune system was tarnished by the flu of sorts. I told him to feel better, feeling like some sort of mother myself. Who else was around to care for him? The DJ? Hype King? No one.

I felt bad for snagging a photo at this point but still wished him well. On our way out, we stole the rest of his freebie food and drinks, bragged to those not fortunate enough to sneak a meet-and-greet, and lectured the head of CAB on who to get next spring. Magician Justin Kredible, crooner Jason Mraz. Who knows who we'll get, but I'll be there no matter what for a good star stalking time.

Four eyes (minus two...)

We are all born with two eyes.
They vary in color, size, shape and usefulness.
Some of us are lucky enough to get two more eyes- glasses.

Since I was 7yrs. old, I have been a member of the quad-eyed population. My first pair was circular, hot pink and shiny gold frames. They covered a large surface area of my face just under my curled, poofy bangs and always caused a bright glare spot in every school photo. I loved them.

Even at such a young and impressionable age, I wasn't ashamed of my optical enhancers. The name calling, "four eyes! geek! nerd!", none of it affected me. Most weaker children would have cried their way home and fed their frames to the dog.

Over the years my eye shields got progressively cooler- from edgy frameless lenses to artsy blue square specs. Contacts were never a thought that crossed my mind. Obviously it was brought up, but it never stuck.

Until last week.


I didn't lose any self-esteem- the fact that I wear over-sized yet stylish sunglasses over my spare eyes didn't embarrass me. The fact that my blue plastics sat crooked on my nose didn't bother me. It was one conversation with my girl friends about make-up.

We are all attending a prom-like dance (Theatre Ball) next week and everyone was pumped about flashy eye shadows and lengthy fake lashes...they all looked at me and said, "Well, we'll find something fun for you."

But-but I wanna play too.

So I went out and got contacts. Yeah, it happened that fast. 13yrs. of ocular confidence out the window.

After a $90 tutorial fee and one hour of watery eyes and probing fingers, I got rid of my specular friend.

Seeing me in public will be the testament to whether or not I won the battle that morning with my eyes' natural instinct to fight back when being poked with foreign objects.

I hate them.

My "friend" once told me my face looks fat without glasses and now I believe him. I hate being without my face shield, my spare pair. No one has even noticed! Unless you knew me back in kindergarten, you have never seen me glass-free.

I will continue the daily battle but will not win the war. After Theatre Ball, you can all call me four eyes again.

Music, magic and make peace

Tuesday night was one of just that- music, magic and peace, all rolled into an organic joint of love.

No I was not getting high listening to my iPod while watching Criss Angel. I was seeing singer Jason Mraz and magician Justin Kredible in concert.

These two handsomely wholesome boys ventured out on a tour together with some other clean cut cuties earlier this year. Bushwalla and The Makepeace Brothers joined Mr. A-Z and JKreds on this journey to spread the love across North America.

The lights faded and the black lights glowed. All we could see was the signature glowing white hair of Everclear lead singer Art Alexakis. For those of you drawing a 1990's alt.-grunge band blank, these guys sang "Father of Mine", "Buy You a Garden" and "Wonderful". Talk about a concert bonus feature, these guys weren't even on the bill. This group of middle aged rockers may have looked old on the outside but the second their picks hit the strings, they looked like teens jamming in a garage.

Following that painfully long break at concerts between sets, the magic finally happened. The in-Kredible man gave my bf and I a wink then proceeded to make tables float in mid-air, 3ft canes appear from nothing and then he swallowed a balloon animal whole. Following Justin's latex late night snack, three young brothers in matching organic T's and khakis played some mood music for the next trick. These dewy-eyed dudes by the last name Makepeace (no joke) each carried one instrument- a ukulele, a bass and a harnessed wooden box.

Their trip down hippie lane ended with a tambourine jam by the concert headliner himself and then the audience, approaching the three hour mark of standing, was introduced to Buswalla. After a quick juggling session and a promise to "Funk your brains out", the original gangster from Cleveland stripped off his brown polyester 70's swag to reveal a one piece yellow spandex bodysuit. At this point, the whole tour is on stage singing, dancing and feeling the love.

Finally Mraz got his chance to go solo. Magically appearing from inside of an empty tent, he grabbed his guitar and the audience fell into hush. "The Remedy" morphed into "Wonderwall" and melodies transformed into short philosophical mentoring. Leave here and make peace with everyone. At the first strum of "I'm Yours", the whole audience in near perfect unison grabbed their phones and speed dialed someone they loved so Jason could croon the love song via long distance call.

Next came about four encores one from Jason, a couple with everyone including Justin and a final farewell from the curbside prophet. At this point, the numbness in the lower half of my body was subdued by the soothing soulful sounds and peceful good bye.

I've been to my fair share of concerts and this by far was the best ticket I've ever purchased. Six hours later, no feeling left from the torso down and a $15 JKred shirt, I left a happy girl with a few hundred other fans feeling the same.

Magic + Peace + Music = concert bliss.

I CAN wait to see you again...

Dearly blog love-ed, we are gathered here today to pay our respects to the reputation of peppy-rocker royalty.

In a time when America's youth needed a fashion forward female to look up to, she was there in bedazzled jeans and matching sequin jacket.

When we all needed a good dual-personality teen rock icon, she threw on a hideous-banged platinum blond wig between songs at her insanely sold out to the point where people faked cancer to get in-concerts.

And when young Hollywood was defined by Sweet 16 Birthday parties posing as baby showers and playpen-play boy shoots, she was there merely sharing a twizzler by mouth in a non-sexual manner with a friend in a cell phone pic.

Until that tragic day when our world came crashing down on us.

Destiny Hope "Miley Ray" Cyrus' dignity was taken at far too young an age. At the age when most adolescent girls are looking forward to cell phones and licenses, Miley was sucked into the unavoidable pit of lost female idols.

On April 14, 2008- a trio of photographs was leaked of Miley in less than appropriate clothing, or underwear for that matter.

Flashing her still not quite yet developed chest wearing what can only be assumed as a green training bra, you could see the last strands of hope fraying from the lace trim. Unfortunately, it doesn't stop their Miley-ites. In a separate shoot, the 15 year old daughter of the most famous mullet known to Hollywood was laying in a seductive position with no brightly colored fun top on but instead a black big-girl bra. In these two candid’s, the photographer is unknown as is the identity or age of the guy Miley is sprawled over.

What could she have become? There were so many opportunities left in this pop tart's $18.3 million a year career. She will still sell out stadiums, she will still have total control of every radio station and teen channel but it will never be the same. This is a blemish that not even a Pro-active campaign can erase.

When Miley dropped "Destiny Hope" from her name, it was an all too frightening foreshadowing. Too soon after, all hope dropped of this harlot being the last chance at a respected tween role model.

Her reputation now rests peacefully next to those memories of Vanessa Hudgens, Jamie-Lynn Spears and Ashley Tisdale.

We only have future generations to look forward to now--maybe Jamie's baby will bring a light to the end of this un-clothed, un-inhibited tunnel heading our youth to a skanky train wreck.

A little less "Sixteen Candles", a little more "have my baby"

Touch up you guy-liner, adjust your way-too skinny bulgetastic chick jeans and rejoice emo kids everywhere! Well at least try to crack a smile- your famous brethren are reproducing!

It's really your average fall out boy meets girl story. Boy steals girl’s pants. Girl gets nose job. They procreate.

Pete Wentz, the only guy we care about from Fall Out Boy, and Ashlee Simpson, umm, Jessica's less endowed sister are making it official. The lip-syncing tartlet and the pretty in black bassist have been linked for over 2 years now being spotted at hot spots locking lips and batting their mascara-ed lashes for the photogs.

In almost every interview, Pete brags about his cross dressing tendencies and how it’s so convenient dating a girl the same size as him. I mean, I won't lie, I've swapped t-shirts with my bf here and there but pants...no friggen way.

Anyway, last week, in typical Hollywood fast lane fashion, the semi-pop rock stars announced plans for a rather shotgun wedding (confirming rumors about a certain ring on a certain finger.) It was all "we wanted our fans to know first!" followed by a polite fuck off, we want our privacy.

Just as the wedding bells started chiming, pitter patters of Chuck-clad baby feet came from the not so distant future. Sources close to the punk-couture pair (you know, those sources that always fuck over celebs to dish for cash) say that we can expect a mini-Wentzson sometime this year.

Woah woah little Simpson sister, are we forgetting the family values set forth by Jessica the chaste? She was de-virginized on national television (in between idiotic explosions from the mouth) after an elaborate white wedding to long time boy band beau Nick Lachey. Ashlee herself has never come out promising premarital purity but it was understandably assumed. She has recently stated however that she is extremely offended that people think she's preggers which is usually code for I'm fa shiz up the spout.

Only obsessive baby bump monitoring will tell if the lady and gent of pop rockdom will be needing Patrick Stump to babysit or Jess to change diapers.

I'm a bitch, but I'm a lover...

Show of hands: Who here has ever said something negative about someone you know, or don't for that matter, behind their back?

That's what I thought.

Whether it was a "Good God her Crocs look stupid with that hideous blouse!" Or even a "Did you hear who Maggie totally blew at last night's anything-goes-but-clothes party??" Shit happens and then it becomes public fodder for anyone around.

It's human nature my friends so get over it.

In a never ending loop of shit talking amongst, every one I know, all I can think is how hypocritical can we all be? People bitch and moan about people bitching and moaning. Even I am complaining about people complaining. It's a vicious cycle that has no end in sight and I personally have come to terms with it. We all should.

How do you think US Weekly, Cosmo or The Enquirer sell so many copies? "Who wore it better?" articles splatter Paris Hilton in a tiny spandex-sequinced dress next to Bette Midler in the same, less than flattering ensemble. Who the fuck do you think wore it better? And that's the point! We love to hate on each other.

Lindsay Lohan looked like a complete crack whore at Dulce last night.
Britney has lost all hope and should pack up her beer belly and move on.
Zac Efron looks like a woman in those skinny jeans, flip flops and lip gloss.

These are all very enticing conversation topics that we crave to dish on. These titillating gossipy tidbits are not just reserved for the Hollywood elite but also apply to your fame-free friends. We need to let out our aggressions about people in a stab-in-the-back-with-a-butter-knife sort of way. A little "I fucking hate that skank!" now and then saves us all from ugly confrontations with the less than classy females that we deep down love. It may sound unhealthy, but is bottling up small instances of "you're so annoying" or "God I hate how retarded you are sometimes"? Only to let it out at a less than opportune time in a much more explosive, foaming at the mouth kind of way? I think not.

Everyone is fair game in this world of bitch-ery. I'm going to talk about you and your flaws and you will inevitably talk about mine. You get smashed and sleep with strangers and I spend way too much time with my bf and whine a lot. Potato, potato (you get what I mean).

Maybe I'm just insensitive to people's feeling and blah blah blah...or maybe I am just realistic. I don't feel like fighting the unavoidable and I am sick as fuck of listening to everyone's holier than thou bullshit. The only way we can play nice, is to not be once in a while. Otherwise, we would all be a ticking time bomb of angry one liners that should have been released to a friend over drinks at the first spark.

Say it ain't so

I regret to report that plans for a "pro-Miley Cyrus-Hannah Montana Rocks-Disney still has hope" blog have been corrupted.

My far too knowledged little sister informed me that in fact, Miley has crossed over to the dark side.

During an in depth chat on my fave topic, the debauchery that is young Hollywood, my sister began to list the disappointments of Disney Channel-- Ashley Tisdale's Wacko-Jacko nose jobs, Vanessa's sex tape scandals, Jamie-Lynn's growing bump--I added a naive, "At least we still have Miley Cyrus!" Nope.

She shot me down before I could say "Don't break my achey-breaky heart". "There are pictures of Miley naked online now. Or at least half naked." I couldn't believe it. I reluctantly typed her name into google which I know is very liberal with their uncensored photos. One image stuck out among the hundreds of smiley, inspiring photos of a respectable child star. My eyes tried to deny the striking resemblance that this barely dressed tween had to Hannah Montana.

Now, there was no nudity. No little black censor bars over her very illegal body. But a clearly self-taken cell phone pic of a little girl (assumably Miley) in a rolled up t-shirt, unfortunately a noticeable lack of bra, and tiny boy short undies. One of her standing and one lying in a bed.

I won't lie, it hurt my soul a bit.

There was only one posting of this image and there was question of its authenticity. It's sad to think but maybe we can at least hold on to the fact that at least she wasn't fully naked...? No! I can't give up on her yet. I won't. She is the last remaining straw in the straw dispenser that is role models for kids today!

Miley, until these photos are authenticated by a professional, or your mom, I will support you and your legalized name change to Miley Ray Cyrus as well as your many crazy, split-personality adventures*


*As long as you don't get pregnant, a nose job, go to rehab, send naked photos to Drake Bell etc.

Little Miss Guided

Thursday during the prime-time TV block on ABC I watched the new Ashton-produced series Miss Guided with some friends and my 13-year-old sister and some interesting converstaion was ignited.


The good ol' classy, non-knocked up Nick star Jamie-Lynn Spears made a shocking cameo as a rather permiscuous high school student (Ironic foreshadowing? I think so.) We all chuckled as she popped up on screen all slim and slender flashing pushed-up cleavage dusted with her platinum highlights-- and totally not preggers yet. It was fun for my college friends to joke about the lack of bun in her oven. My sister, the 13-year-old, the one who should not understand the complications of baby-making let alone baby-daddy drama chimed in with her opinion on the situation.

In an I'm trying to be punk-pretending not to care about gossip toned voice she squealed,
"You know she doesn't even know who the father is?"


I laughed uncomfortably thinking, umm, you mean she doesn't know the name of the stork bringing her the miracle baby she is getting!

"I heard it might be Lil Romeo's or even a producer from Nickelodeon!" She had an unusually maniacal and pleased look on her face. Nothing pleased her more than to dish this juicy tidbit to my way-cool-older friends and I. This was a lot to take in. Jamie-Lynn's torrid love affairs with apparently all of Kentwood, LA as well as corporate Nick was tainting the innocent minds of children everywhere, of children in my very own living room.

The lil pop-tart didn't fall far from the over-sexed chaotic skank tree that is her tabloid drenching big sis Brit. Baby Spears is filling the poparazzo cameras with big bellied photos shopping for mommy gear and holding hands with one of the supposed daddys-- and kids get to see the 16-year-old experience this grown-up activity for themselves. She doesn't make it look hard or troublesome for her or her family or like it was even remotely a bad idea to get pregnant while still in celebrity kid-trailer schooled-high school. And Nickelodeon isn't doing anything about their teen star's scandal either (rumors hinted at a Linda Ellerby news special airing on the channel to address the issue but Jamie's about to pop and still no discussion-- maybe they are waiting for the baby's comments on the issue.)

Someone needs to explain to these kids that Jamie was young, extremely misguided, (most likely) drunk and far too stupid for her own good to think to put a condom on any of the boys/men she's been banging since she was 14. Why is young Hollywood determined to ruin what's left of the kids in America? It's bad enough that the High School musical kids are either getting nose jobs or naked for their bf's cell phone every other minute. None of them are gonna fess up to what they are doing, that's what lawyers and PR people are for.

If kids are our future than I'm not so pumped for pregnant middle schoolers, after-school plastic surgery runs and kiddy porn on the playground. Yeah, scary. I know.

Spring Broke

Tila Tequila wrote a post a few weeks back on myspace that got me thinking (of course I'm "friends" with her, aren't you?)

"WANNA PARTY FOR SPRING BREAK?" asked Tila.

"Fuckin right I do!" My inner monologue replied.

Apparently MTV has recruited this pint-sized-Asian supermodel-named after a Mexican liquor to host its big Spring Break extravaganza in Miami. Thousands of half-naked college students will flock to the beaches of Florida or Cancun, leaving their inhibitions and any concerns for their livers back home. The stringier the bikini and the stronger the mix drink the better! That's what Spring Break is all about...from what I've learned on MTV that is.

I am 20 years old and I have never been anywhere exciting for that one week off we get during spring. No Florida. No Mexico. No Europe. Not even off the East Coast. Nothin.

Why have I never done anything remotely entertaining or sunny? Money. How the fuck do these perfectly tanned, press on-nailed, hair highlighted girls get the moola needed to travel anywhere past the local mall? I can barely afford the trip to the Bruin's game on discount night my friends are planning let alone a plane ticket, hotel and amenities, a new vacay-wardrobe and pretty mix drinks with colorful umbrellas. It's not a lack of income or savings, I have some of that but nowhere near enough for the wild part-aay every other university-goer seems privileged to.

What will I actually be doing next week? Well, after a rousing night of fun at Dave & Busters, I may just travel the whole 4o mins. to my bf's place where he promises to take me bowling, followed by a week of napping most likely. Spontaneity will hopefully play a part on my wide open vacation schedule. An unplanned trip to NYC? A sleepover party in a cheap motel down the cape? Wooo hoo! Chase your tequila with that Tila!

YUCK-O!

Hi, I'm Jess and I write Pop Culture blogs. That means in the time it takes you to read this post, I will have given you a healthy and delicious dose of Pop Culture in just under 400 words.

Ok, so if my bubbly, scripted opening didn't give it away already, I was once a fan of Rachael Ray. Phew, feels good to get that off my chest finally. Yup. It's true. There was once a time in my life where I believed that every meal should be made in under 30 minutes and that no food outing should cost more than $40 a day. Rachael was once a successful and respectable woman that I looked up to.

But I am no longer a follower of this happy-peppy-percolator.

My fall from the Rachael Ray Nation came before she had even become the unstoppable powerhouse she is today. Back in the day, the virtuous Ms. Ray opted to do a rather tasteless FHM spread. Wearing an assortment of bras and tiny gingham skirt-apron things, Rachael seductively bent over a stove, bathed with the dirty dishes (that's just unsanitary) and licked chocolate batter of a spoon. Yummo? I think not. Is this the kind of girl you want teaching you how to make a delicious and healthy meal for your family?

Unfortunately, this was the spark that lit the pilot of her career. She was suddenly iconic and marketable (sex...and food always sell). Now she has her own talk show, three Food Network series, a line of cookware and hundreds of books! She even has her own brand of E.V.O.O. Which might I add, is supposed to be an abbreviation but doesn't work since every time she uses it, she ends up spelling out the damn thing! "E.V.O.O., Extra Virgin Olive Oil!"

Quite frankly, she needs to be stopped. No I don't compare her to Hitler or Stalin (she's a little more bubbly). But really people, I think she's trying to take over the world. Every commercial or billboard I see has her face and that deliriously huge smile selling coffee or donuts! She is everywhere and no one can stop her. She's like the Miley Cyrus for soccer moms.

What more can this woman possibly do? I take that back, I don't want to know.

Hi, my name is?

So the more I write the more it looks like this may actually be a future for me (I hope). I'm getting this whole blog thing down pretty well and have come to the conclusion that maybe I don't need to be a stripper to entertain an audience after all.

But one thing keeps bugging me: my name.

I've grown up with this unoriginal, impossible-to-pronounce/spell, boring name. It has only held me back I think. Don't get me wrong, I love my family and blah blah but the four letter arrangement after my first name just won't fly on a book cover or strewn across a magazine.

You may be saying, "How can anyone mispronounce such a simple looking name?" Oh my God, it's unbelievable how many people suddenly turn illiterate the second they glance over my name for the first time. No teacher, peer, friend, telemarketer etc. has ever been able to pronounce it right. For everyone's info, it's GOVE, with a long "O", not like love but like go + ve. I get called every variation of enunciation and accentuation. My favorite is when people add letters to make it even more difficult. Grove. Gore. Gomes. Grover. It never ends.

My point with all this ranting is that I just want a name that is unique but not so unusual and uninteresting. I know, people will always be stupid and mess up even the simplest name and maybe I should just be proud of who I am but, oh well. It's something I want to change. It's like plastic surgery to my body of writing. A little nip and tuck and I'll feel more confident.

So many celebrities have had the same work done:
Laura Jeanne Reese Witherspoon
Justin Willman "Kredible"
Jonah Hill Feldstein
Brooke Bussey-Hunt a.k.a. the more feisty Diablo Cody

What's in a name? No, not something we call a rose or whatever Romeo said. It's how people identify your talent and deserving work. Next to your face, and the work itself, a name is pretty important. Why should my work be recognized as that of Jessica Grove's?

From singles to gold...?

There's hope for us bloggers yet-- Diablo Cody won the Oscar for best original screenplay!

I have to admit though, I'm really not all that surprised-- Juno was a piece of sheer-awkward-teenage-brilliance and Oscar talk has been circling Cody for months. But Diablo literally went from having dollar bills slipped into her g-string by sleezy drunks to a golden Oscar statue handed to her by Indiana Jones himself, Harrison Ford. From pasties and tassels to a chiffon leopard print Dior gown. She may not have made best dressed (I thought she looked stunningly unique) but what does she care? She is an Oscar award winning writer now with offers flying in left and right and all because of her blog Pussy Ranch and the exotic topless tales in her candid memoir Candy Girl.

The recent writers' strike and the Diablo Cody explosion have all coincidently coincided with my exploration into blogging and creating my own writing persona. I've had to (attempt to) write thought provoking, funny blog posts and started thinking about my memoir. My conclusion? I'm really not that interesting. People talk about their lives and story ideas and I'm like shit, I've never done anything all that out of the ordinary or adventurous, I've never even left the East Coast. Most importantly, I'm not a stripper.

I know it sounds crazy but my theory is if nothing interesting happens to me I need to make it happen. Stripping may just be that it factor I need. It worked for Cody. It worked for Seymour. It could work for me. Maybe then I can write fascinating blog posts and get discovered by a Reitman or Appatow and make the next Michael Cera, Jonah Hill filled movie.

Luckily, things haven't reached that drastic of a level for me quite yet. Stripping might be a little (or a lot) extreme. For now I'll just have to depend on the mundane everyday happenings of my normal college kid life. Who knows, maybe I'll become an even less likely Oscar recipient up there thanking Diablo Cody and the blog revolution she started with her Pussy Ranch.

Dear Vanessa

So this weekend I went to see High School Musical: the ice tour! and $12 cotton candy and an $18 slushie later it kinda sucked. Anyway, in preparation for this ice extravaganza I decided to make t-shirts for my little cousins. I innocently typed "High School Musical" into my google task bar hoping to find like a group shot for the front of the shirts. What did I find instead? Fuckin naked Vanessa Hudgens all over my screen. I felt like a friggin perv.

For those of you who don't know, she played Gabriella in HSM (the brunette, not the blond).
She apparently posed for these pictures (yes more than one) in various lingerie/naked for her boyfriend at the time Drake Bell. I mean, I won't lie, I kinda don't blame her because Drake is pretty hot (lucky bitch) but really though- let's keep the creepy-kid's room-naked-cell phone-photo shoots to ourselves, thanks.

Vanessa-
Listen, I don't know how these pics leaked (maybe Drake was a dick and sent them to Josh) but next time, keep your barely legal cookies in the jar, k? There are millions of young girls who watch HSM on loop 24/7 in hopes to be the next Vanessa Hudgens or Ashley Tisdale. If you are trying to be the next Paris or Kim Kardashian then Disney might as well go the Nickelodeon-Zoey 101 route and promote teen pregnancy. You are a multi-talented-millionaire and you're not even 20. Oh, and not to mention you make up one half of "Zanessa" the prettiest couple in young Hollywood(who are we kidding, Zac is the pretty one). Do yourself and all the wannabe Vanessas out there a favor: keep your clothes on while the camera's on. Save the playboy spread for 10yrs from now on your "Where are they now?" VH1 special.

Talent Show

Today in Hollywood a resume without at least 3 or more marketable talents is tossed aside for someone who can act, sing, dance, do trapeze and perform brain surgery. Ok, obviously I'm kidding with the last two (that's giving young Hollywood way too much credit). It seems that to make it in the biz today, you need to be at least a triple threat. Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen were the original multi-threat performers with TV shows, movies, CDs, books,
fashion and then some. This trend picked back up with the Disney channel and shows like Lizzie McGuire. With a younger sister in the house, there was no avoiding this tragedy of a children's show.

Where are the Boy Meets Worlds or Full Houses of my childhood? Anyway, I digress.

Disney's Lizzie/Hilary Duff empire came out with a movie in which she debuts as a (sort of) pop singer who (somewhat) dances. This starts a domino effect with Disney promoting "stars" like Raven Symone, Aly and Aj and Ashley Tisdale and now most popularly Miley Cyrus. Apparently any 12 year old with mediocre acting skills has equally mediocre singing abilities.

I'm sure not many of these Disney actors are familiar to everyone but there is no denying or hiding the fact that you all know High School Musical. The 6 or so "teen" actors (ranging from 18 to 28 in age) showcased there many talents in this wildly popular movie, turned stage show, turned ice show. HSM propelled these young actors onto young Hollywood's A-list.

I'm pretty sure big shots like Leonardo DiCaprio and Angelina Jolie didn't really have to sing and dance their way into the spotlight; there are exceptions such as everyone's favorite over-achiever Will Smith. It's a necessity today that you come as a full package deal or you're out.

Just last week I spent some time with Justin Kredible-- an upcoming magician who not only has a traveling act but also does comedy, commercial acting (Cingulair and Sunny D) and is a correspondent for the Rachael Ray Show and MTV. He knows what's up.

I can't run it, run it...

The gym. Not a place I'm all that familiar with. Since returning from break however, I have tried to take advantage of the fact that it is only across the street and it is free (well, free in the sense of I don't need to pay now so much as later with the rest of my piling loans).

So this semester I have enlisted two of my friends, the Matts, to keep me occupied when VH1 marathons or my Rhetoric reading are just not enough. Matt 1 has been talking about "toning up" for as long as I can remember while showing me pictures of his inspiration in the form of half-naked men with far-too-toned-to-be-a-realistic-goal bodies. The other Matt is a little intimidating with his burley muscles and intense attitude about exercise machines but regardless, they are getting me off my couch and onto a much more uncomfortable yet beneficial bike seat.

It was in my second visit to the gym that I realized why I'm not a regular: Gym snobs.

Usually the place is filled with the whole hockey team (no complaints there) or some other sports teams but then there are the snobs (which are almost always girls).

I approached the "girly" weight lifting space, filled with the pretty colored weights wrapped in a protective rubber and spanning 2-8lbs. to find glaring up at me from the floor were about 6 girls lying on mats. They wore their sports bras and leggings with their pink iPods strapped to their already skinny arms (if you're comfortable strutting around in public wearing just a bra, then I'm pretty sure you're in enough shape but, I digress). They didn't move aside for me. I couldn't help but feel out of place in my sweats and baggy t-shirt so I decided to join the boys in their area.

No pretty colors. No protective rubber coverings. Just rusty metal weights in huge increments. I made a joke about tetanus being some sort of male work-out secret. I laughed. Matt 1 cracked up. Matt 2 lectured me on the serious nature of our gym business.

Maybe I'm not meant to fit into this physically fit environment. Or maybe I just need to work-out long enough to pull off the bra and leggings look. Nah, I'll just go at odd hours of the day when no one is there and I stroll along on the treadmill in my sweatpants.

Will it ever be FOUND?

LOST is a very difficult series to summarize as a whole or even as separate ideas. Anyone who watches the show regularly knows how difficult it is to explain to a non-lostie even what one character does on the show. Questions never cease to multiply on ABC’s not-so-deserted island drama. From the moment Flight 815 crashed on the seemingly uninhabited island, a spark was ignited in the minds of the viewers that has yet to die out. Each episode and season that has followed brought only more unanswered connections, identities and theories.

This drama has caused a form of jungle fever-- it is truly a cultural addiction for those involved. Many websites and blogs have been dedicated to the hundreds of theories, predictions and facts accumulated over the series' three season run. The third season did not disappoint when it came to the mind boggling twists and turns creator J.J. Abrams promises. Jack almost goes home but instead brings back one of the "others", Sawyer and Kate finally break their sexual tension behind the bars of a cage and Charlie meets his unfortunate fate as promised by the future-telling Desmond in order to save Claire and the island. Amidst the turmoil taking place in real-island time, the usual flashbacks take an unexpected turn. The writers throw the regulars a curve ball by flashing forward to a time where Kate and Jack are off the island. They get off the island? Jack is an addict? Kate looks even better in make-up? Why is Jack insistent on returning to the island screaming, "We have to go back!"? And so the questions keep piling up...

Season four's premiere is only hours away and for two hours my jaw will drop, I won't sit back from the edge of my seat and my eyes will be glued to the set. Not all of my questions can be answered in this premiere but as one is revealed more will inevitably be asked.