Sunday, March 11, 2007
Where have all the keytar players gone???
I don't understand interpretive dancing. Okay. Let me rephrase, I'm don't understand WHY someone would watch an interpretive dance. And NOT like Belly Dancing or the Hula or whatever, because that's actually really fun to watch. I'm talking about black leotard and jazz hands tryin' to interpret Harry Potter with flute music. Maybe I'm just not a deep and meaningful person, but when I watch an interpretive dance, I really have to fight the urge to go up to them and go, "..you know that you're doing this in public right? ok. just checking." I get so embarassed for them that I can barely watch.
Remember the keyboard and guitar's bastard child? The keytar. So popular in the eighties..and now? Not a keytar in sight. Nothing shrinks manbags faster than playing a keytar, so I don't understand why its popularity hasn't risen with all these emo bands around.
Tight women's jeans + Mascara + Keytar + crying = HOT.
There's this one book I've been reading since 1902. (The Crimson Petal and The White..yes Judy I still have that book) I started reading it when I was pregnant and stopped because..well... a baby started coming out of me, which kind of disturbed my reading habits. I'm going to try and finish this book because it is really good. It's a lot like Pretty Woman..if Pretty Woman took place in London, Victorian era and if Julia Roberts had a severe case of Psoriasis. Somehow, Richard Gear dusting Julia's skin chips off of his Armani suit after making mad passionate love wouldn't have been such a blockbuster hit.
If there's was only one word I could scream in a library and during sex, it would be: FRIIIIIJJJJOOOOOLESSSSS!!!!!
(beans for you non-spanish food speakin folks)
Yeah. I don't know why. I just love that word.
I miss old skool Teen Queens like Debi Gibson and Tiffany. Remember how scandalous it was when Tiffany "divorced" her parents? There was no head shaving. No crotch shots. No K-Feds. No rehab. Nothing. Even though Tiffany was the o.g. firecrotch and Debi Gibson would have SO rocked a bald head like no other.
I can't STAND those Axe commericals. I know the marketing ploy is directed at the "average guy" and their commercials do the Hollywood, "ugly guy/pretty girl" formula. But Axe commercials take that formula to a whole other level. One guy looks a shortbus special with a wonky eye and a concave chest, rolling around with a girl who's hotter than me. (such a girl exists. Unbelievable I know.)
This cracked me up. I dare you not to laugh while watching this:
This was painful to watch. This has got to be the worst weatherman ever. I could barely make it through the whole thing. It was like watching an interpretive dance.