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.