My Own Planet

It's official; I am now certifiably insane
As if everything I mentioned above wasn't enough, I have now agreed to take on a contract project for another magazine. But it sounds pretty easy, and they're going to pay me $300 to do it, so how could I refuse?

Bring on the stress!
Last week, my boss announced her resignation. Friday is her last day. So what this means is that, until they hire someone else (God knows when that will be), I get to do all of her work. As an added bonus, I get to do all of the work of our associate editor, who left two months ago and still has not been replaced. But wait, it gets even better! Our field editor (who was writing, on average, one feature story for all three magazines each month) was reassigned to a new magazine a few months ago, and, as far as I can tell, they've just decided not to replace him. Basically, I'm going to be running three magazines with my only help being one intern who can't spell. Fabulous! This is going to be the least fun I've ever had in my entire life!

With that, I should probably get back to work, even though I still technically have a full 15 minutes left in my lunch hour. Sigh.

Joe Overload
Last night, I watched three straight hours of Joe-centric reality TV. First, a full two hours of Joe Millionaire, a show whose new goal seems to be compressing an entire series into the shortest amount of time while still using as much filler as humanly possible. Not that there has been much filler up to this point. But just wait! You know there will be. I'm not entirely sure what the point of showing two episodes a week is. I mean, sure, FOX can dominate the ratings two nights in one week or, in its new incarnation, for two straight hours on one night. But without changing the pace of the show at all, that means the entire thing is over in like four weeks. If it were me, I would want to stretch it out a little. But, as we have already established elsewhere, I am not a reality-TV producer. Yet.

I capped off this marathon session of Joe Millionaire with an episode of Average Joe, which had been recommended to me with some abivalence by several people (particularly these two reality dating-show connoisseurs). I wonder what it says about me that, upon seeing the Average Joes, I found at least half of them completely dateable and in fact fell in love with at least one or two on the spot. I hope it says that I'm a much less shallow person than most people on reality TV. What it probably says is that I have strange taste in men, which is true. The whole male-model thing really doesn't do it for me.

Last night, I dreamt that I had a job answering phones for Hillary Clinton. The job itself wasn't that great, aside from the obvious perk of getting to answer the phone, "Hillary Clinton's office." I think I had some of my friends and family call me at work just so they could hear me answer the phone that way. Anyway, at one point during the day, Hillary decided she was going to take all of her assistants (me and a couple of other random girls) to get a soda. She knew of some way that we could get soda out of the vending machine without having to pay for it, but we would have to go outside. So we all piled onto this cart (similar to the ones you see driving around in airports) and set off in search of free soda. We stopped midway down a hill, because Hillary wanted to get out and see if this was where she could in fact get the free soda. I guess I was supposed to be watching the cart so it didn't roll away, but either I didn't know that or I forgot to do it, and the cart went careening down the hill and crashed into Hillary, who let out a yelp and fell to the ground. Horrified, I ran down the hill and began apologizing profusely and asking if she was OK. She said she was fine, but in that really bitchface way that means, "I'll be OK, but I am sooooo pissed at you right now."

The moral of this story? Do not let any runaway carts steamroll Hillary Clinton. She really does not like it.

Mrow!, Part Deux
And to think, I once thought American women were catty and vindictive. But man, they've got nothing on the Europeans! Last night on Joe Millionaire, the women decided they didn't like the fact that David was paying so much attention to Linda. So they gave her the good ol' Lee Ann freeze-out until she got so hurt that she actually left. Just picked up and left, even though she herself admitted that she was starting to have feelings for David. Girl, grow a spine! It's not like they all went into a locked room and wrote your name on a notecard to indicate that you were the least compatible with David. I mean, as we have seen on The Bachelor, that is pretty much the worst thing one girl on a reality dating show could do to another girl on a reality show. Well, that and trying to woo the eligible bachelor with a feather boa, which is apparently the unforgivable sin Lee Ann committed that made everyone turn on her. All I'm saying is, Linda could've had it a lot worse.

In the previews for next week, it seems that the girls are drunk with power over the success of the Lee Ann freeze-out plan and now decide to turn on Cat, as we see Olinda decreeing their official battle cry. ("Cat's a ho, and she needs to go!") Ooh, I can't wait! This is what has been wrong with reality TV up to this point. Not enough catty, vindictive European women! Thank God Joe Millionaire came along to correct this problem.

Two for one
On Saturday night, Sallie and I decided to go see Intolerable Cruelty. We bought a ticket for the 7:00 show and, when we got to the theater five minutes before the movie was to start, were surprised to find that it was already packed. As we waited for the movie to start, we heard the guy in front of us say something about a sneak preview to the person sitting next to him. We knew something must be amiss, since we were pretty sure Intolerable Cruelty had been out for at least a few weeks. Our suspicions were confirmed when the movie started. Even though we had paid for a ticket to the 7:05 showing of Intolerable Cruelty and walked into the theater that had Intolerable Cruelty on the marquee, we were watching a sneak preview of Love Actually. I, for one, was ecstatic, since I had been dying to see Love Actually even more than I had been dying to see Intolerable Cruelty, so we stayed where we were.

After the sneak preview was over, Sallie and I decided to stay for the 9:00 showing of Intolerable Cruelty. We felt justified in doing this, as it was the movie we had actually paid to attend. Plus, as I pointed out, the theater we went to often does free sneak previews, so there was a good chance we weren't cheating them out of any money. The couple sitting behind us seemed to have the same idea--but they were the only ones. I suppose the rest of the audience knew what they were getting into, and the four of us were the only ones who got a surprise sneak preview before our actual film. A couple of ushers came in to clean the theater while we were sitting there, but they didn't say anything to us. So we got to see two movies we really wanted to see for the price of one! Not bad at all.

Love Actually was by far my favorite of the two films. In fact, I'm glad we got the surprise sneak preview; otherwise, I might have been disappointed in having forked over my hard-earned $7.75. It was an excellent film. Funny yet tender, and heartwarming without being sappy. It's the perfect holiday film--even Sallie and I, who moments before were complaining about the onslaught of Christmas propaganda so soon after Halloween, were feeling quite Christmasy by the time the movie was over.

I advise you all to go see it when it comes out next weekend. Kate will appreciate yet another scene involving Colin Firth jumping into a lake. Dave will appreciate the five-minute-long video montage of nothing but Keira Knightley's face. Heather and Hannah will appreciate the storyline in which a British guy, figuring he'll have better luck with the ladies in America, sets off for Wisconsin. As for the rest of you--well, if you can't appreciate Colin Firth, Keira Knightley and references to the great state of Wisconsin, then there's something seriously wrong with you.

I thought Intolerable Cruelty was just OK. I had pretty high expectations going into it, what with George Clooney and Catherine Zeta-Jones being two of my favorite actors. I expected their chemistry to be amazing, but it was just...OK. Plus, I realized that I just don't like the Coen brothers George Clooney. I mean, the Coen brothers have said themselves (in an interview that I read recently, but I can't remember where) that they like to make George Clooney look stupid. I'm not really a fan of the silly George Clooney. I like my George Clooney swank and smooth, like George Clooney is supposed to be. (Think Ocean's Eleven.) Consequently, I spent most of the night wondering if I shouldn't push Hugh Grant to the top of my marriage proposal list. I also spent a good bit of the night getting very, very excited for the release of Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, which will feature Colin Firth, Hugh Grant and George Clooney. Now that is sure to be a great movie.

They said it couldn't be done.
Actually, no one explicitly said that it would be impossible for me to move out of my old apartment and into a new one in just five hours, but it was more than implied in the many raised eyebrows I got when telling my story to several different people.

Yes, dear readers, I am alive! The move went more smoothly than I could have even imagined. In fact, I had everything out of my old apartment and had turned in my keys by 3:30--a full hour and a half before the deadline. The movers were actually early (EARLY!) and very, very expedient. (I highly recommend Bob's Moving Company for all your moving needs.) When we arrived at my new apartment 10 minutes before we were supposed to, not only had all of the previous tenant's stuff been removed (I still do not know when or how), but my landlord was already there and had finished cleaning the room into which I was to move my furniture. Plus, I got a brand-new fridge and stove, and he's going to come back in a few weeks and tile my shower wall and put in a new sink and toilet.

Since I didn't look at the apartment all that closely before I decided to take it, there were a few surprises waiting for me when I arrived. First, I discovered that only three of the windows in the entire apartment actually have blinds. So it seems that I can either invest in some curtains or become an exhibitionist. I think I'll go with the curtains. Unfortunately, since I currently have no money with which to buy curtains, I've had to resort to nailing some spare bedsheets over the windows in the interim. Ghetto, but it works.

Also, I was not prepared for the fact that the entire apartment smells like cat pee. I knew that the previous tenant had a cat, but I was unaware that he apparently allowed it to urinate wherever it wished. I am fairly confident that there are no remaining traces of cat pee on my floors, as I saw them being cleaned yesterday. However, the smell of cat pee still pervades pretty much every single room. So far I have tried a number of methods to get rid of the smell, including spraying copious amounts of Febreeze, burning scented candles, cooking, and re-cleaning floors I know have been cleaned just to get the benefit of the cleaning-products smell. These remedies only seem to work for a short amount of time; the more pleasant scents all eventually yield to the smell of cat pee. Last night when I talked to my mom, she asked if there was anything I wanted as a housewarming present. I'm thinking some plug-in air fresheners, potpourri and many, many scented candles might be a good request.

It's Halloween, and I am very scared
Yesterday, one of my co-workers asked me what I was going to be for Halloween. My response? "Really freaking stressed out."

That's because today is moving day. Actually, the term "day" is a little too liberal. The fact of the matter is, I have exactly five hours in which to move the majority of my stuff out of my old apartment and into my new apartment nine blocks away. Needless to say, for the past week or so, I have been compiling a list in my head of things that could possibly go wrong. Here is that list, in order of how screwed I'll be if these things actually happen.

1. The movers get there really, really late or don't show up at all. I have hired movers to help me with the stuff that I can't get by myself--desk, dresser, bed, etc. My friend Terri recommended Apartment Movers because they have pretty good rates. Only I can't tell if the Apartment Movers I've hired here in Birmingham is actually affiliated with the Apartment Movers chain, because it is also called Bob's Moving Company. Something about "Bob's Moving Company" just does not instill a lot of faith in me, but I couldn't pass up the price. Plus, they're charging me the exact same amount that they charged Terri when she moved out of her apartment in Georgia, so we figure it must be legit. But if for some reason Bob and his Moving Company don't show up, I'm so screwed. It's too late to get new movers, and even if I could rent a U-Haul at the last minute, I have no one to actually help me get all the stuff out of my apartment and into the U-Haul. Basically, I would have to beg and cry until my current landlords agree to let me have the rest of the weekend to work something out. Believe me, I am not above begging and crying at this point, but I really hope it doesn't come to that.

2. The apartment I am to move into has not been vacated. This is a real possibility, as the guy who lives in the apartment now does not technically live there. He's living with his girlfriend and just keeping his stuff there until his lease expires. The last time I talked to my landlord (the middle of last week), the stuff was still in the apartment. The landlord said he would keep checking to see if the stuff had been moved out and asked me to call him on Monday to see what the status of the apartment was. So I did. And after three messages, he still has not called me back. So, to try to secure my own peace of mind, I was forced to resort to drastic measures. I took my flashlight over to the new apartment and peered in the windows to see if it had been emptied yet. The good news: The bed and most of the other stuff in the bedroom (the only window I could see in) was gone. The bad news: There was some stuff (a TV, a box and some CDs) still in the bedroom. (The other bad news: I am now officially a stalker. But I'm not stalking an actual person, just an apartment, so that's totally different.) Hopefully either the guy is coming back this morning to get this stuff or he's just bequeathing it to me. Or he's just going to leave it there until the last possible second, and my landlord will tell me I can't move my stuff in until everything is out of the apartment. In which case I will be screwed.

3. The apartment will be empty, but the landlord will not be there to meet me and the movers, at the time he said he would. Obviously, if the landlord is not there, it's pretty much impossible to track him down. Therefore, I am prepared to have the movers leave my stuff in the hallway, where I will sit with it until I can get the landlord to let me into the apartment. However, this situation would only exacerbate my next worry, which is...

4. I won't be able to get all of the stuff out of my old apartment in time to turn in my key by 5:00. If everything operates smoothly and none of the aforementioned situations present themselves, this shouldn't be a problem. However, if any little thing in my well-laid plan goes awry, I am--you guessed it--screwed.

So if I'm not back to blogging in a few days, you will know that one of the following things has happened:

a) I have keeled over from some stress-related condition (heart attack or similar).

b) I have been forced to try and move my furniture by myself and have consequently been trapped under something heavy.

c) I have killed one or more of the following: my old landlord, my new landlord, the movers, the guy who refuses to move out of my new apartment; and I have been arrested and taken to jail.

Good thoughts, prayers, spells, incantations, meditations or whatever you prefer would be greatly appreciated during this trying time. If I survive this day, I'll let you know how it turned out.

Whaaaaaa?
See, this is why I don't bet on reality TV. Because I always lose. But last night's Bachelor was different from any other reality-TV bet I've lost before. Usually, I make my predictions a week in advance and end up changing my mind as I watch the actual episode. But throughout last night's episode, I was convinced that my prediction that Mary would get the boot was correct. Bob seemed uncomfortable around her family (mostly because her dad didn't speak any English and the rest of the family didn't seem to want to translate) and just a little freaked out by her rapidly ticking biological clock. The way I see it, there can be only three reasons why Bob might possibly have kept Mary around:

1. Bob is just as obsessively in love with Mary as she is with him and shares her desire to start popping out babies as fast as humanly possible.

2. Figuring that Kelly Jo is pretty much going to win, Bob (being the man-whore he is) wanted to choose the two women who were most likely to sleep with him to go on the overnight dates--and we all know Mary is much more likely to put out than Meredith would have been. (After all, sleeping with Bob will increase her chances to have a baby!)

3. Bob is crazy.

Of all the girls, I really didn't expect Meredith to be eliminated. It was indeed The Most Shocking! Rose Ceremony! Ever! Well, not including that one in Season 2 where a couple of the girls got up and told Aaron they just weren't into him. That was great!

Anyway. If Kelly Jo doesn't win, I will be supremely shocked. I mean, she has to win. She's the female Bob, and we all know how much Bob loves himself. In fact, I would go so far as to bet everything I own on Kelly Jo emerging victorious, but considering my track record, that might not be the best idea.

Reality Quote of the Week
It's been a month since my cable got disconnected, and honestly, I don't really miss it that much. Sure, that first weekend was hard (what with the freaking out about the jail threat and all), and sometimes I do get a little wistful when I hear others talking about Newlyweds or The Real World or The Joe Schmo Show. However, he networks have helped me through this trying time by providing some quality reality (and non-reality!) programming, such as The Next Joe Millionaire, from which we get this week's most awesome quote. (And yes, I realize the week is not over yet--sadly--but I highly doubt anything we hear on The Bachelor tonight is going to come close to topping this.)

"I'm cussing like a sailor, I'm not wearing any underwear, and I'm drinking way too much champagne." --Tereza

(Side note for all you former mag majors: Wouldn't it be great if Ranly illustrated one of his comma rules with this sentence?)

I just read in my hometown newspaper that a girl I used to baby-sit was the freshman attendant for high school homecoming. And she was the middle child! The oldest is probably at least a senior by now. God, I feel old. It doesn't help matters any that the homecoming flower girl was my friend John's daughter. I don't just feel old. I am old. Sigh.

Who needs continuity when you've got ratings?
Last night on Friends, the gang celebrated baby Emma's first birthday. If you watched this episode (like I did), you were probably thinking one of three things:

1. Awwwww!
2. It's about damn time they actually worked this child into a plot instead of just completely ignoring her existence.
3. Dude, that child was born in May. It's October. Her first birthday came and went six months ago, and they're just now getting around to celebrating it?!

If you're most people, you were probably thinking #1. If you're Kate, you were probably thinking #2. But if you were me, you would have been thinking #3. In fact, you would have been thinking it every time Rachel went on and on about how important it is to celebrate Emma's birthday on the actual day of her birth. If you were me, you'd be yelling at the TV, "Rachel, you are the worst mother in the entire world if you can't even remember the date of your child's birth within six months of said date! Actually, the people who wrote this episode are the worst writers in the world if they can't even remember what month it was when one of their main characters freaking GAVE BIRTH!"

The lack of continuity on Friends has bugged me for a while, ever since last season when they "re-introduced" (I use that term loosely) Jon Lovitz's character from Season 1, and everyone acted like they'd never even met him before. Look, if this guy was so memorable that I can recall him nine years later, surely a similar spark of recognition would have flared in Rachel when she was SET UP ON A BLIND DATE WITH HIM. God.

Anyway. The other day, I stumbled upon the most brilliant idea for the series finale of Friends. Since it's pretty obvious that the writers will probably fuck it up beyond all recognition, I would like to now offer them this brilliant suggestion in hopes that they'll take it and allow the show to go out with at least a fraction of the humor it once had.

We all know that this season is leading up to the resolution of the Big Friends Love Triangle. Who will Rachel end up with? And I have come up with the most brilliant answer to this question. It is at the same time unexpected, humorous and satisfying. Are you ready for this?

Gunther.

Gunther! It's absolutely perfect. True, the Friends writers suck at continuity, but there is one storyline that they've managed to keep going, more or less, for the entire ten years, and that's Gunther's crush on Rachel. Everyone's expecting her to end up with either Ross or Joey, and with so many people planted firmly in either camp, a choice between the two is guaranteed to anger at least half of the audience. That's why Gunther is so perfect! It's not that anyone really wants Rachel to end up with him, but true Friends fans could at least appreciate the comedic genius of such a solution. Plus, it's been ten years! Gunther deserves a break already!

If this were Seinfeld, I have no doubt that they'd resolve the situation in this manner. But this is not Seinfeld, it's Friends, and they'll probably do something sappy and maudlin, and it'll suck. But they won't be able to say I didn't give them this great idea.

Get your '90s nostalgia here
So many people here in our little blogging community have expressed support for my idea for an I Love the '90s special that it got me thinking. Why don't we all get together at some central location (CoMo, perhaps? We could visit The District!) and film our own version of I Love the '90s, with us as commentators? Maybe we could even get Hal Sparks and Michael Ian Black to pitch in because, as Lyndsay has pointed out, they really were the best ones on the original VH1 show. Then we could send our tape to VH1 and see if they'll play it. And then we'd all be famous! OK, not really that famous. But we'd be at least as famous as Hal Sparks and Michael Ian Black, and that's good enough for me.

So here are my contributions to the project:

Remember back in the '90s when...
-No Doubt was considered "ska." And so were a bunch of other bands, like the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, who, one can only assume, have since fallen off the face of the earth.
-The biggest political ordeal our country was facing involved a cigar and a stain on a GAP dress.
-Reality TV was a shocking phenomenon restricted only to MTV.
-People only cared about Gwyneth Paltrow because of who she was dating.
-People only cared about Jennifer Aniston because she was on a hit TV show.
-Brenda, Kelly and Dylan were TV's most-talked-about love triangle.
-Hypercolor shirts gave everyone an excuse to touch the person they had a crush on.
-Winona Ryder was the good girl who dated bad boys instead of the bad girl who stole things from Saks.
-Shania Twain was considered a pioneer in the whole country/pop crossover phenomenon.
-Britney Spears was a Mouseketeer...not to mention an A cup.
-Until the infamous bathroom incident, people harbored this quaint little notion that George Michael was straight. Honestly, people! Did you just completely miss Wham!?
-The concept of Madonna and Michael Jackson spawning young was somewhat shocking.
-Alicia Silverstone and Claire Danes were the It Girls, while Jennifer Lopez was still just a Fly Girl.

Three out of four ain't bad
So I got one of my Bachelor predictions wrong. So what? I still got three right. I can't be perfect all the time, you know!

My early prediction for next week: Mary's so gone. She definitely won't be in the final two, and I can't really see her in the final three, either. She's like the Christina of this season. Only, you know, not so aggressive and intimidating. And, uh...leathery. But it's pretty obvious that her biological clock is ticking away like a freaking time bomb. (Seriously, if she were to try to do an interview without mentioning how much she wants to have children, I think she might spontaneously combust.) So far, she's managed to sort of hide her complete and utter desperation when she's around Bob. But next week, I have a feeling that it's going to come roaring out with a Christina-like vengance, and then she'll be so gone.

I used to like Estella, but then she started talking like Nicole Kidman in Eyes Wide Shut. Now I sort of hate her. She could potentially be the next one to go, because she did make the unforgivable mistake of (gasp!) showing some sort of negative emotion. Estella! You know they don't tolerate that at The Bachelor! Because the best way to find out if you're ready for marriage with someone is to spend six weeks going on a bunch of completely implausible "fantasy" dates with a smile plastered on your face the entire time even though you might be upset because, you know, your Nana died or everyone in the house hates you. Because that's what marriage is about, people! Fantasy dates, hot tubs and lots and lots of smiling and laughing! Oh, and let's not forget roses.

Meredith is definitely my favorite, because she's not a cookie-cutter Bachelor contestant, and you know how much I love the non-cookie-cutter Bachelor contestants (see Helene and Liz). Kelly Jo, on the other hand, is totally a cookie-cutter Bachelor contestant. Unlike last season, which was The Battle of Good vs. Evil, I see this season panning out much like Season 2: The Battle of Cookie-Cutter vs. Non-Cookie-Cutter. And although Non-Cookie-Cutter (Helene) triumped in Season 2, I still really think Cookie-Cutter (Kelly Jo) is going to take it this season. Only time will tell.

Nothing else compares...
You know what's really great? Getting into your car, turning it on and hearing Coldplay. Not having to search through 6 radio stations, endure a few crap Britney Spears and Kelly Clarkson songs (or worse!), only to catch the tail end of some terrible pop remix of "Clocks." Now when I get into my car after a long, hard day of work, Chris Martin just starts singing to me. It's awesome. I love having a CD player in my car!

I think the car likes Coldplay more than it likes R.E.M., actually. But it's too late to change my car's name to Chris Martin. And besides, it would be really weird for my car to have the same last name as me. I briefly considered re-christening it "Gwyneth Paltrow's Boyfriend," but decided against it. I mean, you know at some point Gwyn and Chris are going to get engaged, then they'll be engaged for like three years, then he'll dump her and they'll have this long and painful public breakup, and then in a few months, he'll be married to some hot young starlet named Jennifer. And she'll probably go back to Ben Affleck. And then people would think I named my car after Ben Affleck, and that would just suck. I suppose if Gwyneth Paltrow starts dating Michael Stipe, I can have my cake and eat it, too, but this is probably highly unlikely, seeing as Michael Stipe is gay.

I promise, someday I will stop blogging about my new car. But that day is obviously not today. Will it be tomorrow? Stay tuned to find out.

New cars for everyone!
Well, at least everyone in my family. Or at least all of the siblings in my family. My sister (yes, she of musical-bunny fame) also got a new car this weekend, after hers was smashed by a drunk driver while it was parked outside her boyfriend's apartment last weekend. She got a silver Grand Am that sounds very similar to Kate's, except it has four doors instead of two. It's a 2003, and it was a program car, so it already has 28,000 miles on it--but her payments are $5 a month more than mine. Woo hoo! Of course, she has things on her car (like power locks and windows, and cruise control, and probably a V6 engine) that I do not have. But still, I got a brand-new car for $5 less a month! Woo hoo!

More spelling fun with our intern
The intern's latest zany spelling interpretation is "perticular" instead of "particular." I swear to God, we gave this girl a dictionary when she started her internship! Once again, I really can't say anything because just this morning I had to ask my boss how to spell "odyssey." But that is a really hard word! And it was part of the name of a school, so they could have spelled it in some wacky way. You never know.

Insane
I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to buy a new car two weeks before I'm supposed to move into a new apartment. I'm losing my mind trying to coordinate a bunch of those mundane details that go along with getting really big new things. However, my new car does have a way bigger trunk than the old one (and I have yet to spill laundry detergent in it like I did in the old one), so that's a definite plus for the move. And all of the madness should be over in a couple of weeks. I just have to hang on until then.