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.