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Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Crap. I Forgot to Get You a Card.

It's a major holiday, kids and I feel horrible because I didn't get you anything.

Yes apparently, it's "Tyra Banks Show Day" as christened by New York's Mayor Bloomberg. Never one to congratulate herself, Tyra modestly announced this for millions of people on The View this morning. And I say good for her. I mean if Veterans and Martin Luther King can get their own holiday, shouldn't a show where the host goes undercover as a homeless person be rewarded the same thing?

Tyra does important work and I'm glad the city of New York has recognized this. I wonder- do Manhattan kids have the day off today? Is the DMV open?Is there a parade with Ms Jay and Benny Ninja twirling batons? 

To celebrate, I'm going to wear a fat suit, wear a t-shirt with my real age, and have a heart to heart with a transgendered teenager. If you're a self-respecting American, I suggest you do the same.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The Today Show: Worse than You Remember!

So you know that guy at the mall who works at one of those carts that sells back massagers?  He's giving you the hard sell and being really persistent but just by looking in his eyes you can see that he knows this whole sales pitch is a steamy load of crap? 

That's exactly how I felt watching George Bush's press conference this morning. He sort of chit-chatted with reporters in the White House garden but didn't really answer any questions. He was pleasant as usual and reinforced my theory if George Bush was just a manager at a Denny's who's only responsibility was making sure you received your "Moons Over My Hammy" then I'm sure we'd all think he was a really nice guy. He was kind of passionate about the war and gave his usual terrorism is bad, blah, blah, blah. But like the back massage guy, you could tell he knew it was a wasted sales pitch. 

As a rule, I avoid George Bush and making jokes about him. I feel like what could I possibly add to a topic that's so obviously ridiculous and embarrassing that a billion corny t-shirts and late night talk show hosts haven't already said?  I'd be better of telling dusty Polack or blond jokes because at least those aren't a reality. But I stumbled upon his speech while watching The Today Show

I know. The Today Show? What am I? 80? Trust me. I'd rather be asleep but due to one Dr Pepper too many during last night's Dancing with the Stars, my sleep was erratic. After several hours of  thrashing about like Reagan from The Exorcist, I gave up the dream and got out of bed. With my eyes half open, I jaunted to Starbucks with the dog and before I knew it I was hanging out with Matt Lauer, Al Roker, and George Bush. Yeesh. Not a great television option but since I'm fresh out of meth, I couldn't possibly handle Live with Regis and Kelly or God forbid Rachael Ray-tard.  Also, I couldn't be bothered to look through my 9,000 channels to find anything else.

 Nothing on Today has really changed. Meredith Viera still scares me, the news is still vapid and depressing, and the format is unoffensive, if uninspired. The only thing that has changed is how many damn people host the show! Seriously, in addition to Matt, Al, Meredith, and Ann Currie there's some random brunette, a lady named Hoda or Koda or Yoda and even Kathie Lee Gifford! It's confusing. I kept wondering "who the hell is that and where did she come from?' Oh yeah and now it's on for like fourteen hours. In fact, it's still going as I write this. It's turned into the Super Target of morning shows. Makes me almost miss Bryant Gumble and Jane Pauley. Almost. 

Features included what to do if your child is posing nude on the internet, Matt Lauer at Ann Franks house, and poor Christine Baranski looking like she wanted to kill her agent. But hands down the worst thing I witnessed was  Al Roker wearing a Horton Hears a Whoo mask and screaming. Thanks, NBC. Now, I'll never get back to sleep.

Dana Delany Amazing?!? Desperate Housewives Good Again? Who Knew?

Maybe it was her late eighties WASP girl next door persona or her forgettable films (Exit to Eden, anyone?) but I was never really a fan of Dana Delany. I had always filed her in the Janine Turner Box of Has-Been Actresses and  simply forgotten about her.

Well, Ms. Delany. I apologize. Her work on this season of Desperate Housewives has made me a believer. Her subtle, icy agony as the homemaker from hell, Katherine Mayfair has injected Wisteria Lane with new life. Funny, devious, and tortured Mayfair is the kind of character you love to hate and her portrayer clearly relishes her every nuance. Her storyline is intriguing but it's her brilliant performances that have kept me coming back. Delany knocks every scene out of the park and I couldn't be more happy to have been wrong about her. Janine Turner, there's hope for you yet!

Delany is just one of the delights to be found this season on Desperate Housewives. As a faithful viewer since the amazing first season, I've suffered through the silly plotlines and groan inducing twists of the past two seasons because I always knew it could be as good as it once was. And this season has not disappointed! The writing is once again crisp, funny, and fresh without forsaking the shows signature jaw-dropping surprises.

The rest of the cast seems to have also upped their game, particularly Eva Longoria-Parker who week after week delivers the most quotable zingers of the episode while adding real depth to a character who is so deliciously shallow. Marcia Cross has found a good comedic partner with Kyle Maclaclan and it's fun to see her Bree do more clowning and less hand-wringing. Teri Hatcher must be relived since she hasn't had to fall and make a complete ass out of herself this season and I'm relieved too! It's been a treat to watch her do more subtle work for a change. Nicolette Sheridan is still tragically underused and Felicity Huffman still slums it in sub-par plots but I'm nitpicking. 

Desperate Housewives has regained it's status as television's number one frothy, fun Sunday night cocktail. So return to Wisteria Lane if you've strayed because, like myself, you might just be surprised.

Monday, April 28, 2008

A Piece of Cake? I think not.

I'd like to take a moment to challenge whomever equated the term "cakewalk" with being "extremely easy". Because I took part in two cakewalks yesterday and got my ass spanked! 
True, it was all in the name of charity (my friends are raising money for the AIDS marathon in San Francisco this August), but I was a little ticked off that I wasn't the first winner. To make matters worse, I went back confident that I would be victorious and again ended up with zilch!
I was shocked. I mean something competitive that involved bake goods seemed like something I could win in my sleep. And I was a former cakewalk winner back in second grade, thank you very much.

Well either my triumph at Saint Philomena's back in 1981 was a complete fluke or my cakewalking skills are a in need of a tune up. Still, I was up against some fierce competition. The first round, I was whooped by a delicate, little lady who seemed like she'd be easy to knock out of the game. That's what I get for underestimating the prowess of a skinny girl in need of sweets. The second round was more pathetic. I was the second person eliminated while people who'd been drinking all day in the sun battled it out over the cake that I assumed would be mine. 

A pot smoking guy in a floppy Indiana Jones hat with a green feather approached me afterwards and said "I was rooting for you, man". That made me feel better until I realized this was the same guy who earlier was  banging on a wood box keeping  time with Stevie Wonder's "Superstition". 

Still, I helped out a  good cause, had a delicious burger in a strangers backyard, and even ended up with my own cake. Okay, it was a default cake and the only store bought one but it's cake nonetheless. I plan on digging into it this evening while I watch a new episode of Gossip Girl.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

My Hard Candy Review from

In 1983, at age 11, I saved up the appropriate funds earned from doing chores around the house to buy Madonna’s self-titled debut record. When I had first heard “Holiday” on the radio that previous summer, I was entranced. It sounded a little like the disco my aunts and uncles used to listen to and a little like the R&B songs that were popular at the time but overall it was dripping with a confidence and personality I had never heard before.

25 years later, I’m still a fan and throughout her career Madonna has continued to produce pop songs that entered uncharted territory. Snobbishly, Madonna has produced hit singles that go against the grain, popular opinion be damned. That’s exactly why her latest release, Hard Candy, is a puzzling collection of songs that shockingly plays it safe. Producers and collaborators like Pharrell, Timbaland, and Justin Timberlake are pros at churning out ditties that are annoyingly catchy and light on lyrical content so it’s no surprise the results for Madonna are the same as they have been for Missy Elliot, Gwen Stefani, and Ashlee Simpson. And that’s not always a good thing.

First the bad news. The opening track “Candy Shop” is a springy, albeit trite, track tricked out with vocal layering, dated sexual innuendo(“My sugar is sweet”), and the requisite thumping drum machine beats. It’s sugary for sure but like a cheap butterscotch, it’s sucked on and then quickly forgotten. “Spanish Lesson”, “Incredible”, and “The Beat Goes On” will serve their purpose on tredclimbers around the globe but a closer listen is not recommended as the weak lyrics and cliched production value might very well drive you insane. Album closer “Voices” seems to be directly lifted from the Erotica recycling bin right down to the S&M references and tired 90’s house-beat. Even a hardcore fan like myself can acknowledge the fact nearly every Madonna record has a few songs that might have been better left on the cutting room floor but never have the missteps been so glaring obvious as they are on Hard Candy.

Now for the good news. “Four Minutes” is a great lead single, although heavier on the Timberlake than I would prefer, that manages to get stuck in your head.If the case of Hard Candy is to prove that Madonna can still keep up with the youngsters on the radio then “Four Minutes” is great supporting evidence. “Give it Me”, the purposed second single is another catchy bouncy treat, if not terribly original. “She’s Not Me” is a disco fidelity epic that would do her Like A Virgin producer and Chic frontman Nile Rodgers very proud. Dripping with handclaps, dramatic violins, and funky guitar riffs, the song is at once defiant and danceable. “Miles Away”, the best song on the record lyrically, profiles a strained relationship hurt by distance. ”Heartbeat” is a classic Madonna get-on-the-dancefloor track. She generally seems to be having fun as she whispers “see my booty get down” and it’s infectious. “Dance 2 Nite” is another floor-filler with Justin Timberlake that’s thankfully more “Into the Groove” and less “SexyBack”. Speaking of JT, slipped in towards the end of the album is “Devil Wouldn’t Recognize You” is another collaboration that recalls his “What Goes Around(Comes Around). It’s the closest thing Hard Candy has to a ballad and it’s a damn fine one.
So the bottom line is this- Hard Candy is at once an overcooked record with too many uninspired chefs in the kitchen and an addictive piece of ear-candy handmade for the headphones. Filled with triumphs, frustrations,contradictions, risks, and vanities, it’s pure Madonna, like it or not. And if you’re not crazy about this incarnation, stick around. 25 years listening to Madonna have taught me to never expect the same thing twice and Hard Candy proves she far from finished evolving.  

(Originally published at on April 26th, 2008)

Goldfrapp or Goldcrapp? It's a close call.

A few days ago, one of my closest gal pals sent me an enraged text message regarding a KCRW interview with Alison Goldfrapp. Since this person and I usually agree on such matters, I had to watch the video for myself. And once again my friend was right.

As I've seen in past interviews, the singer once again comes off as a pretentious, affected jerk. Poor Nic Harcourt seems to be grasping for anything that resembles personality or warmth from the interview and regrettably it's nowhere to be found. True, she is suffering from a cold but she also appears to be suffering from bitch-itis as well.

Unsavory personality aside, I've always admired Goldfrapp's music and artistic moxie. It drips unapologetically with art-school pomp while delivering some very memorable songs. So I've been able to overlook the snotty behavior because the actual work was darn good. Until now, that is.

Their latest record, Seventh Tree, is a minimal, airy affair that aims to be a masterpiece but falls tragically short. Long gone are the glam-rock guitars and pulsating beats from Supernature. Floating acoustic instruments are used instead and Miss Goldfrapp's lyrics are front and center. And that's the heart of this record's problem. 
Simplistic and at times just plain dumb, Goldfrapp's shortcomings as a writer have never been so obvious.  If you're going to strip away the glitz and pounding basslines, you better have the balls lyrically to back it up. And you lady are no Bjork or Emilianna Torrini. Lacking any emotional center, the only message Goldfrapp seems to be conveying on Seventh Tree is "Aren't we brilliant and clever?" 
Another issue with the record is that of originality. The public was willing to overlook Supernature's obvious T-Rex influence because it was loud, catchy, and easy to shake your ass to.  But swiping direct moves from the Kate Bush Playbook while yielding such ho-hum results is darn near unforgivable. 

And yet, Seventh Tree has glimpses of pure genius in songs like "Happiness" and "A&E". They're so good it makes you wish the duo would have scrapped the other tracks and went back to the drawing board.

So how do you solve a problem like Alison Goldfrapp? Well, avoiding interviews with her is a good place to start. Blaring The Hounds of  Love in an act of defiance might be a wise move as well. Still, I think I need  to temporarily break-up with Goldfrapp to get the icky taste out of my mouth.

Another friend of mine often reminds me to separate the art from the artist, in order to be objective. But in this case, as both the art and the artist are utterly infuriating, it's a hard task to complete. 

Wow! Anita Baker has Really Let Herself Go.

So I was searching for a picture of R&B songstress Anita Baker(because isn't that what everyone does on a Saturday morning?) and I came across this photo.

Not to worry, though. The Grammy Award winning singer has not taken part in a weird body morphing scientific experiment. Some wacky Canadians who run a sheep farm just decided to pay homage to Baker by naming this little fluff ball after her. Turns out they have a whole stable full of stars. 
Trust me. You really don't want to see Lou Rawls or Gladys Knight. 

Friday, April 25, 2008

Fav 5 Songs of the Week

Besides the hot Annie Track I mentioned earlier, here's my fav five of the week:

1.) Vanished- Crystal Castles: Haunting, electro-new wave that I can't get out of my head!

2.) Best Revenge- Fishcherspooner: I've had this for awhile but I'm still listening to it constantly.

3.) Rock With U- Janet Jackson: Hands down her best song in almost a decade.

4.) Lights and Music- Cut Copy: Why this song isn't a huge hit, I have no freakin' idea.

5.) Boys- Ashlee Simpson: Yeah, I know. She's a tool and this songs a Gwen Stefani rip-off but  holy fuck it's catchy and I kinda love it!

Enjoy your weekend!


Memories of Coachella Past!

This weekend marks the annual Coachella music festival here in Southern California and this years lineup is killer as usual. Prince, Portishead, Rilo Kiley, M.I.A., Justice, and dozens of others will be sweating out their hits on a polo field in the middle of nowhere. Umm. No thanks.

Don't get we wrong, I had a blast when I went in 2006 and saw tons of amazing performances (Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs, Cat Power, Imogen Heap, Sleeter Kinney, Los Amigos Invisibles, and some chick named Madonna). I'm just a little long in the tooth to be hoofing it in the desert with 40,000 of my closest friends. I'm not delusional about this and I know my current limitations.My tolerance for drunk girls in tube tops and crowds of sweaty teenagers is nearly non-existent. And I'm not that great in the sun for long periods of time and then of course there's that whole "I really don't like people very much" thing. Plus, I always promised myself I wouldn't turn into that music fan who overstayed their welcome. In short,  I never wanted to be the weird old dude in the club and I think I've accomplished that goal. 

It's not to say that I still don't love live shows and don't have fond memories of Coachella. Like how could  I ever forget this group of blond, tanned Cougar-type ladies in belted white shorts and gold flats holding frozen margaritas and getting down to Kayne West? Classic. Another good moment happened when this tiny Lindsay Lohan(Freaky Friday era, not rehab era) look-alike passed me a joint rolled in pink paper while watching Bloc Party. 

But hands down the best Coachella moment happened before Madonna performed. A  drunk, bitchy gay boy in a tank top was growing impatient waiting for her to take the stage. So to pass the time he complained very loudly and made some of the worst one-liners I had ever heard.  He bitched and moaned for nearly a half an hour and the nearby cramped festival goers started to lose their patience. Suddenly, from seemingly out of nowhere, his overweight gal pal who was standing behind him didn't look so good. She was sweaty and looked like she had a hard time standing up. As I turned the opposite direction, I heard a thud! Both bitchy boy and his friend had fallen over. Amid laughter, gasps, and a couple of "Are you guys okay?"s, the drunk duo got up and slumped out of sight. Not only was the complaining over but there was suddenly more room to stand! Fabulous.

 So Coachella-goers, I salute you. As for me, I'll be listening to Cut Copy from the safety of my couch and happy to not be picking sand out of my crack.

Scar-Jo sings?

I have a love hate thing with Scarlett Johansson. Loved her  in Lost in Translation. Hate her in nearly everything else. 

So color me surprised when I heard her new song "Falling Down". It's a Tom Waits cover as is everything else on her new album Anywhere I Lay My Head. It's pretty darn good. She's doing a Cat Power/Marianne Faithful thing that's not entirely authentic but it doesn't totally suck. She had some pretty decent helping hands on the project like David Muthafucking Bowie, Nick Zinner from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and David Sitek of TV on the Radio fame. With that talent, I'm very curious to listen to the whole record.

Still, I'm a tad trepidatious. I'm still traumatized by having to sit through The Island in theaters and musical offerings by fellow actors like Minnie Driver and Brittany Murphy don't inspire much confidence. 

Annie is A Goddess!

Friday is music day here at Bruised Peaches and my favorite song of the moment is "I know Ur Girlfriend Hates Me" by Annie. Sassy, catchy, and totally summer!

Check it out here!

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Ideas For J-Lo's New Reality Show?

So I guess Jennifer Lopez won't be filming Angel Eyes 2 anytime soon. I read here that she's filming a reality show for TLC that chronicles her day to day life. Yawn. How many more of these "celebrities live fabulous and interesting lives" series do we need? 

 The lives of Ozzy Osbourne, Anna Nicole Smith, Paula Abdul, Tanya Tucker, Run-DMC, Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown, Kimora Lee Simmons, Kathy Griffin, Tori Spelling, Scott Baio, Gene Simmons(not related to Kimora, by the way), Victoria Gotti, Jessica and Ashlee Simpson, Janice Dickinson and her models, Janice Dickinson and some person named Abbie, Nick Carter and his family, Paris and Nicole and of course Britney and Kevin have all been filmed, edited, and regurgitated by now. Celeb-reality is so over, Jen.

Personally, I think Jenny from the block would be better suited to judge a reality show because while her prickly diva-is demeanor is a draw for drag queens it's not exactly the kind of thing everybody warms up to. Her "bitchzilla" reputation would be perfectly suited to judge shows like  So You Think You Can Act?, America's Next Butt Model, Project Fly Girl, and Celebrity Perfume Smackdown.

What do you think? Do you want to watch Jen and Marc change dirty diapers? Or would you rather hear La Lopez critique clueless contestants? And what would her perfect show be? Sound off in the comments section below!

Top Chef Contestant Confusion?!?

Judging by the content of today's blogs, you can tell I watched waaaay too much reality television last night.
 Anywho, one of the more annoying things about this season of Bravo's Top Chef(and trust me honey, there are many) is the fact that I keep getting the contestants confused! 

Take for example Richard and Jen both pictured above. Which one is which, you ask? Good freakin' question! Both have Sonic the Hedgehog faux-hawks, both have goofy smiles, and both are lesbians. Oh sorry only one of them is, my bad.
Now having watched every episode this season, I of course know that Richard is the dorky straight oaf who likes to prepare his dishes with wacky blowtorches and water balloons and I know that Jen is the San Francisco lesbian wants to win the competition for her recently booted girlfriend and when she's angry she kicks folding chairs. But during quick camera shots of either in the kitchen, I'll be damned if I can tell them apart.
So it's a good thing Jen got sent home last night. Now there will only be one egotistical spiky haired competitor who rambles on and on about how genius they are. Perfect!

 If only my conundrums ended there. But alas there's my constant mixing up of flaming douche bag Andrew and flaming douche bag Spike. Not only do these two look alike but both of them have identical a-hole personalities! It's like watching clones of the turds who sat behind you in History class perform their own version of "The Parent Trap". To make matters worse, they were on the same team last night. Double the irritating comments! Double the junior high jokes! Double the douche bags! Surprisingly though, Team Dipshit turned out a simple soup that rocked the judges world. So it looks as though my "who's more annoying- Spike or Andrew?" contest will continue. 

This biggest puzzlement of all however is why in the hell am I watching Top Chef in the first place?! Well, in it's defense, last season was really good and had really talented chefs that were easy to root for. And it's a far better show than the hideous Hell's Kitchen. 
But this season has been a flop. The chefs are an unruly, bratty bunch and while that's been my personal experience in real life with most chefs, it's far from entertaining to watch on television. Also, the corny Chicago challenges aren't helping matters. From deep dish pizza to cooking for the cast of Second City, the show has left no Chicago cliche unexploited. What's next? Cater a  dinner party for Gayle King using only wind powered appliances? 

And the perplexing, mysteries don't end there. Like who exactly did Queer Eye's Ted Allen piss off at Bravo as he only appears on the episodes with the weakest challenges? And why is Padma so grumpy this year?  And am I the only one who gets excited when they show the shelves filled with the "Glad family of products"? Don't answer that last one.

Naturally, I'll continue to watch as I'm already sucked in (thanks, Bravo, you buttholes!) and I'll continue to laugh at Spike and the silly hats he wears. Or is that Andrew? Like it matters.

Carly Smithson, this year's Latoya London.

Last night when Carly Smithson was booted off American Idol, Simon said she could leave the competiton "with her head held high."And I agree! Carly joins the ranks of other prematurely ejected Idols who's talent surpassed that of the other competitors. 

Think waaay back to Season 3, when the brilliant Latoya London was knocked out of the top three by the ridiculous Jasmine Trias. Trias, a pretty but dull girl from Hawaii who sounded like she should be singing in the lounge of an airport Ramada Inn. London had buckets of talent but unfortunately she didn't have an entire state voting for her like Trias so she was (unfairly) sent packing. Since then, Latoya has released some decent singles and toured with The Color Purple. Not bad but she should have been so much bigger. 
Watch this for evidence:

In the end, it's just reality TV. And Carly will be fine. And the world won't completely collapse if Jason Castro wins. I mean we survived Taylor Hicks, didn't we? So it doesn't matter too much.

 After all, when it comes to voting in real elections America always picks the best candidate for the job. Oh wait. Never mind. Maybe we are all going to hell in a handbasket.

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Kermit was Right. It's Not Easy Being Green.

Whispered endlessly from the lips of politicians and celebrities, an obligation to be more thoughtful of Mother Earth has seeped into our collective consciousness. I recently fretted after throwing a pizza box into the wrong colored bin that I would receive hate mail from Al Gore and Cameron Diaz, printed on recycled paper, of course. According to, I was experiencing “green guilt”, “the feeling that you should do more to help the environment and save the planet”. Naturally, I’m joking as I know that the aforementioned Planet Heroes are far too busy doing important things like making films with Ashton Kutcher and avoiding questions about the Clintons to be bothered with smacking me on the wrist. But the feeling is real. While it’s certainly a good thing that we’re all feeling the pressure to make better decisions regarding the environment, the dilemma remains ”Am I doing enough or am I doing too much?”

All around my neighborhood, you can see small signs of environmentalism. Recycling bins in front of local businesses and crowded bus stops have long been a part of Echo Park’s landscape. However, young couples distraught over buying paper plates at Rite-Aid for a backyard barbecue are a more recent occurrence. Last winter, I overheard a concerned father at a coffee shop tell his friend that his children were upset to find out they would not be receiving Christmas presents because the family had deemed the holiday “wasteful”. This seemed a little extreme to me. Surely, both Santa and Mr. Gore would still want nice kids to be rewarded, planetary concerns notwithstanding. I did sympathize with the dad though. How do we teach our children to respect the Earth while still letting them have a childhood? Moreover, how do we enjoy our lives in a way that doesn’t damage the planet?

Personally, I barter with my ecological contributions. I don’t own a car, I use energy efficient light bulbs, and I recycle my used glass and plastic products (I’m still working on the paper thing evidently). So I don’t feel as much green guilt over my long showers, trips to Starbucks, and Gourmet magazine subscription. Admittedly, these justifications are unlikely to award me a pat on the back from Leonardo DiCaprio and I could stand to cut out a few more extravagances. But as a wise woman once said “You always hear the comment about wanting to leave a big footprint in the sands of time, but it can be a small footprint too. It doesn’t need to be bigger, just better.”Actually, it was Cameron Diaz who said that and it makes sense. Maybe just doing what we can is enough and maybe we can cut ourselves a little slack for not being perfect environmentalists. That being said, I do still feel bad about that pizza box thing. I promise it won’t happen again.

(Published in The Los Feliz Ledger May 2008)

You Need This Volume #1: Fan-tastique.

Just in time for those dog days of summer! I'll be staying cool this season with one of country music's true legends.

 But you best get your own 'cuz you ain't woman enough to take my fan. 

Through Thick and Thin

My weight, much like Carrie Underwood's love life, is a complicated thing. I rarely talk about it because, quite honestly, I don't know what to say. 

Once upon a time, I looked like a Pez Machine and had a 28 inch waistline. Of course that was during an ancient time when Robin S. had a hit on the radio and Ecstasy cost less than a pack of cigarettes. It's ironic that my old body, that was a total turn-off in the 90's, is now all the rage among male models and rocker boys.

Since then I've fluctuated back and forth. Now I've never been rotund but when you're used to being a stick figure, seeing a scale inch closer to the "200" mark is a little shocking. I looked at my self shirtless in the mirror six months ago and wondered "What Happened?".
Well, my thirties happened for one and so did a long term relationship- there's at least ten pounds right there. Couple that with years of drinking like one of the Barrymores, increased laziness, and a romance with my TiVo and Voila! You're nearly 200 pounds.

Not ready to embrace my inner-bear or eager to starve myself, I had to come up with a plan. So I quit drinking, which was a separate problem but also a contributing factor. I'm a person who loves food so dieting is not an option but I also love walking. I decide to smaller portions of whatever the hell I wanted but to increase the amount I walked.

Four months later, I'm still sober and I've lost nearly 17 pounds! Moreover, I feel really good. I'm proud of myself and I like who I see in the mirror. Sure, I wish I could be the person who loved themselves regardless of how much they weigh and I know my battle is far from over. But I've got a great man, amazing friends and family, and adorable pets who support me regardless of my pant size. So it's still complicated but I'm working on it....

A Day Late & A Dollar Short!

Poor Carmen Electra! The Emmy's are giving out an award this year for "Best Reality Show" host and since her show "Manhunt: The Search For America's Most Gorgeous Male Model" is no longer on the air she is unable to be considered for this category.

 It's unfortunate too since Carmen did some stellar hosting unlike anything I've ever seen. Made for about $37 bucks Manhunt was a brain-rotting reality show that makes Flavor of Love look like a Sam Shepard play. 
With the personality of a wet English muffin, the Electress would eliminate potential JC Pennys models by saying her catch-phrase- "This is your Last Shot." Classic.

Sure, she's no Samantha Harris or Amanda Byram but she was as good at hosting a reality show as she is as strip-aerobics. Oh well, Carmen. You're better off. The Emmy's are a rigged, racist, bullshit awards show and a talent like yours could never be appreciated by them. 

In the meantime, I'd like to pay tribute by sharing this with the world:

A Political Endorsement I can get Behind!

By now, we've all seen Oprah basically crawl inside Barrack Obama's backside and jump up and down like she just gave out more free cars. And honestly who cares? I don't trust Oprah or anything she endorses. Let's remember this is the woman who loves Celine Dion, John Travolta, and Neil Diamond. And lest we forget she turned two brilliant books (Beloved and Their Eyes Were Watching God) into shite movies. And do I really have to remind you that this is the same lady who thought it was a good idea to sing her own theme song and wheeled out a little red wagon filled with fat?

Sure, La Winfrey might be the "go-to" on where to find the best $35 oatmeal cookie or high speed colonic for your cocker spaniel but I'll look to the real minds of our generation, like Kim Kardashian, to help me pick out a president, thank you very much. Kim Kardashian is famous for having a big ass and for making a sex tape with Brandy's little brother. Period. And somehow that seems more genuine than any Angel Network or crappy book club.

It does make me wonder who Jerri from Survivor and Stavros Niarchos are endorsing for president, though.........