My Own Planet

Hey!
I just realized that last year, I said that Ryan Seacrest looks like something 'N Sync threw up. This year, I said he looks like something Sarah Jessica Parker threw up. Perhaps this means Ryan Seacrest's fashion sense is improving. Most likely it means that 'N Sync has fallen completely off the pop-culture radar. And with the end of Sex & the City drawing nigh, I can't help but think that Sarah Jessica Parker might be right behind them.

This is fun! I wonder what vomit of a pop culture phenomenon Ryan Seacrest will resemble next year!

The tangled web of online marriage proposals
Good news, Scott! Now that Doug has cut me loose, I'm free to marry you and spend large portions of time watching The O.C. and reruns of 90210. Talk about domestic bliss! But the best news is that Royer previously approved inter-FIG marriages as an acceptable condition for the free dinner offer (although I can't remember where--maybe on Dave's blog?), so Kate and I could still get our free dinner. After all, that's really what this is all about.

Of course, the George Clooney disclaimer still applies. (The George Clooney disclaimer being that if George Clooney ever accepts my proposal of marriage, I am free to unceremoniously dump you and marry him instead.) Hmm, I wonder if George Clooney was ever in a FIG. Because if I could marry George Clooney and get my free dinner, that would be nothing short of awesome.

Damn you, Friends writers!
Just read the following bit of completely unsubstantiated gossip re: the Friends finale on E! Online:

Gunther finally professes his love for Rachel. Alas, she turns him down. According to on-set sources, the scene took several takes, because Jennifer Anniston kept crying, which, in turn, made Lisa Kudrow lose it!

It doesn't say exactly why Jen and Lisa were crying, but I assume it was because the Friends writers didn't take my brilliant suggestion. Well guess what, Friends writers? If years from now, everyone is still talking about how much your finale sucked, don't come crying to me! (Although I do have to give you props for calling attention to the fact that you have no freaking clue how old Emma is in this year's Thanksgiving episode. But still.)

If you're interested in reading more spoilers for the final episode, go here. And if you didn't want to hear any spoilers for the final episode in the first place, my sincerest apologies for that one. But it's completely unsubstantiated anyway, so quit whining.

The bright spot in an otherwise bleak month
Thank God the Golden Globes are in January. Otherwise, I don't know how I'd get through this God-awful month. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I LOVE the Golden Globes. Love 'em. Some people like to criticize the Golden Globes as a "fluff" awards show, one that doesn't really matter. My opinion? None of these awards shows really matter. I mean, they're awards for making movies, not the Nobel freaking Peace Prize. Who cares? I applaud the Golden Globes for not taking itself so seriously. So what if they gave Madonna one a few years back? It's not like the world stopped turning on its axis because of it.

Anyway. That said, here are my thoughts (mostly fashion-related, which is, after all, what these things are all about) on the show:

-Nicole Kidman looked like absolute crap. That outfit was proof that just because you're Nicole Kidman, it doesn't mean you can wear anything you want. Come on, Nicole! I expect better from you!

-Speaking of Nicole, was anyone else hoping Tom Cruise would get the best actor award just so we could see what would happen when Nicole had to hand him the statue? I know the people filming the show were, judging by the copious amount of Tom shots during Nicole's announcement of the nominees.

-Renee Zellweger was absolutely bootylicious. I think she looks awesome with the extra Bridget Jones weight. Too bad she'll probably down to her regular toothpick size by the Oscars.

-Brittany Murphy looked uncharacteristically glamorous. Of course, she's still annoying as hell, but nice dress!

-For the love of God, someone please give Al Pacino a haircut!

-With her hair up and in a slinky, V-neck satin dress, Cate Blanchett looked remarkably like Courtney Love during her Versace glamour-queen phase.

-Jennifer Aniston and Mary-Louise Parker have a very good relationship with some double-stick tape.

-Whoa, Amber Tamblyn, ease up on the red lipstick!

-Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins looked fabulous and younger than ever. They're so cute.

-I want to be Sofia Coppola even more now.

Where the boys are
They're here, seeing the North Mississippi All-Stars. Unfortunately, most of them were current, former or wannabe frat boys, and, because it's Birmingham, I'd guess that 98 percent of them were either married, engaged or in a serious long-term relationship. Still, a cute boy did flirt with me at the bar. Sadly, that's the most action I've seen in months.

There was also a guy at the concert wearing a fur coat and Zack Morris white sneakers and carrying binoculars. I didn't really see the necessity of having binoculars in such a small venue, to say nothing of the fur coat and white sneakers.

Update
Apparently my trip to the Dumpster was worthwhile, as I have been re-approved for my pre-approved credit card, and it will be here in 7 to 10 days, which, by my calculations, should be just in time for my business trip. Woo hoo!

Reality-TV Smackdown: AI3 vs. The Apprentice
NBC really cracks me up sometimes. Like when they run ads for The Apprentice saying, "All you need to know is that The Apprentice is back on Thursday nights." Why can't they just be honest and say, "All you need to know is that last night, The Apprentice went head-to-head with American Idol and lost big-time." Of course, I don't know for a fact that The Apprentice lost to American Idol in the ratings. But that's pretty much the only thing I can infer after last week's deluge of promos touting The Apprentice in its new Wednesday-night time slot.

No matter how NBC markets it, I'm actually glad that The Apprentice is back on Thursday nights. For one thing, it gives me a reason, other than a pervasive sense of obligation, to keep watching NBC on Thursday nights. Also, it solves the gut-wrenching dilemma of having to choose between AI and The Apprentice (or at least saves me the agony of channel-flipping and missing important parts of each show). Because honestly, if I was forced to choose, I was afraid The Apprentice was going to win out, based on the merit of it actually having a story arc and not trying to stretch a storyline that could have been told in 30 minutes over SIX HOURS. Look, you all know how much I love American Idol. But even I have my limits. And AI3 is already getting dangerously close to the edge.

Like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife
Yesterday I found out that, in two weeks, I am going on a business trip for which I will have to rent a car. Renting a car always poses a host of problems for me, since I am under 25 and don't have a major non-debit credit card (or at least not one that isn't completely maxed out). When I first started traveling for work, my boss suggested that I apply for another credit card and then use it only for work-related travel expenses, paying off the balance each month with my reimbursement check. (My company does not give out corporate credit cards, which I think is absurd considering the amount of travel they require, but whatever.) It seemed like a good idea, but I was hesitant to apply for another credit card when I'm valiantly (yet somewhat unsuccessfully) trying to pay off the two I have now.

So far, none of my travel has required me to go through the hell that is renting a car, so was able to make do with my debit card for the most part. But most car-rental companies, if they take debit cards at all, will charge a huge deposit on it, which usually results in a nice little overdraft notice from my bank. I realized I would just have to suck it up and get a credit card. My dad suggested that I just apply for one of the pre-approved credit card offers I get in the mail nearly every day, which seemed like a good idea. I mean, if I was already pre-approved, I could probably get the card faster, right? On my way home, I fervently hoped that I would find multiple pre-approved credit card offers in my mailbox.

Which, of course, I did not. This is the rule of pre-approved credit card offers (and most things in life, really): If you don't want them, they come in droves. But the one day you decide you do want one, they are nowhere to be found. The irony is, I had just gotten a pre-approved credit card offer in the mail yesterday, but I'd thrown it in the trash as I usually do. And I had chosen that night to take my trash out to the Dumpster.

Unfortunately, with my business trip in two weeks, I didn't really have time for irony. So I did what any sane, rational person would do in this situation. I went to the Dumpster to retrieve it.

Yes, you read that right. I actually pawed through nasty piles of trash to find a pre-approved credit card offer. Look, I'm not proud of it. But, you know, desperate times and all that jazz. (I do have to admit that I was a little proud of the relative ease with which I was able to locate my bag of trash.)

Of course, when I went online this morning to actually get the card, I learned that it would take somewhere between 7 and 30 days just to process my supposedly pre-approved credit application. So it seems that all of my sifting-through-garbage efforts were in vain anyway.

I'm sure that when I get home today, there will be at least four pre-approved credit card offers waiting for me. Because that is the law of pre-approved credit card offers.

This is gold
I have just had the most brilliant idea. Someone (meaning me, when I quit my day job to become a reality-TV producer) should make the presidential election into a reality show. Think about it--it would be a great way to increase voter turnout, especially among young people!

Each episode, presidential hopefuls would be given a task to complete. ("This week, your job will be to...reform America's health-care system!") At the end of the episode, the candidates' performance would be compared (naturally, you'd have to have the requisite marginally qualified, bluntly harsh judges to weigh in their opinions), and America would call in and vote for the person they like best. The person with the lowest number of votes would be eliminated each week, until we're left with one person who would ulitimately become president and be sworn in on the show.

It's perfect! Now there's just the problem of what to call it. America's Next Top President? Or maybe just The President? Ooh, wait, I know! Joe President!!

Girl, you better work! No, like seriously.
The bad news about the new season of America's Next Top Model: Janice Dickinson seems to have run out of random and funny quotes. Somewhere in the interim, however, she did stumble upon a very large bottle of self-tanner.

The good news about the new season of America's Next Top Model: J. Alexander finally brings us the long-awaited answer to the question, "Who the hell is dressing Ryan Seacrest?" I'd be willing to bet it's the same man (man?) who appears on national TV in a T-shirt screen-printed with a bikini-clad woman's body and nothing else. (Either that, or Ryan Seacrest is buying his T-shirts directly from drunkpeoplewritingontshirts.com. Last night's long-sleeved V-neck with a paragraph of very close-together writing directly to the left of the V was another classic.)

But back to ANTM. Overall, this crop of girls seems decidedly less refined than last season's. I mean, most of them had never even heard of Carmen Marc Valvo! (Never mind the fact that, until last night, I thought Carmen Marc Valvo was a woman. At least I knew who he was!) And some of their runway walks are just sad. Who doesn't know how to walk a runway? Doesn't everybody pretend they're walking on a runway in their bedroom from time to time? What, no? That's just me? No way! Next thing I know, you're going to tell me that everybody doesn't practice auditioning for American Idol in the shower!

Paul and Justin will appreciate this
In an article for one of our magazines about the national launch of a new decorative concrete mix, I titled one of the subheads "Art of the Mix."

AI3: Bigger, Longer and Most Definitely Uncut
Just when you thought Paula's stupid hats couldn't get any stupider! Just when you thought Ryan Seacrest's wardrobe couldn't get any more ludicrous! (Seriously, a yellow tiny T with words printed on the inside and outside? The boy looks like something Sarah Jessica Parker threw up.) Just when you thought Randy Jackson would never say or do anything different! (He got new glasses, just in case you're sitting there wondering what exactly Randy Jackson said or did that was any different. Don't feel bad if you didn't notice--they were pretty similar to his old frames.) Just when you thought the filler was as filler-ific as it was going to get! (An early prediction: American Idol 17 will come in at just under three years.) Just when you thought The Powerful Blog Alliance couldn't get any more powerful...American Idol 3 is here! Oh, yeah.

Conquering reality TV, one family member at a time
Apparently it wasn't enough for me to be the reality-TV star of the family. Now my dad, sister AND dog have to get in on the action. Tomorrow night, they'll be on the Outdoor Channel, appearing in Dove Day Afternoon, a special all about the annual dove hunt my dad and his hunting buddies have every Labor Day. Apparently my sister is the star of the show--being young and blonde, I guess she's the closest thing they have to Paris Hilton or Jessica Simpson on the Outdoor Channel. Anyway, if you get the Outdoor Channel (or know someone who does), be sure to watch my family's ascent to reality-TV fame. (I still maintain that I am the most famous member of my family, as my television appearance was on prime-time network TV, even if it was for a grand total of about 8 seconds.)

My God, I'm a grownup
It's a sad, sad day when an article about creating a budget in the newsletter that comes with my quarterly 401k statement can hold my interest better than an episode of Seinfeld. I'm not just a grownup, I'm a boring grownup. (To be fair, the 401k newsletter is really well-written and designed, and the episode of Seinfeld was a really old and bad one. But still.)

Drunkenly ever after
As a new season of The Bachelorette begins, I find myself wondering if Chris Harrison is actually still employed by the show or if, at this point, they've just started using stock footage of him from past seasons. For a show that can be at once fascinating and mind-numbingly tedious, I've decided that the best way to get through it is by being highly inebriated. So with that in mind, I bring you...

The Official Bachelorette Drinking Game

Take 1 drink any time someone says:
-"journey"
-"connection"
-"incredible"
-"fairy tale"
-"happily ever after"
-"It's so nice to finally meet you."
-"I'm definitely getting a rose tonight."

Take 2 drinks any time someone refers to:
-Nana
-Trista and Ryan's "success"
-"Bachelor Bob"
-Proposing marriage
-"Stealing" Meredith away
-Tables being turned, roles being reversed or similar

Take 3 drinks any time:
-Chris Harrison does something completely superfluous
-Champagne glasses are clinked together
-A hot tub figures into the plot
-Someone expresses amazement that Meredith is 30 and still single
-A pause lasts longer than 10 seconds

Take 5 drinks any time:
-Bob makes out with someone (Just because it's not his show doesn't mean he won't find a way to get on it and make out with someone.)

A girl and her planner: The love that dare not speak its name
Last night I finally broke down and bought a 2004 planner. I had resisted buying a planner for some time (technically, 13 days), reasoning that I keep most of my work appointments on my Outlook calendar (which sends me handy, and sometimes annoying, little reminders when I've missed a deadline). However, not wanting to use the Outlook calendar for personal matters, I soon realized that I had no idea (other than a vague recollection) when any of my bills were due and was in danger of forgetting most of my friends' birthdays. So it was off to Staples.

I have become very picky about my planners. Believe it or not, I didn't always used to be the kind of girl who lives and dies by her planner. In fact, I didn't even start using a planner until my senior year of college, when I got one for free at my internship. I figured since it's free, why not use it? At the time, I was taking 17 hours of classes, working as an editor at Vox and working part-time at the Union, so having a planner seemed like a good idea. Little did I know, I was creating a planner-dependent monster. Nor did I have any idea that that free planner would turn out to set the standard for all planners to come.

I found this out the hard way last year, when, being unemployed, I had to buy my own planner. I decided if I was springing for my own planner, I would buy a fun one. So I bought the Home Swell Home planner at Target, mostly because I couldn't afford the actual Home Swell Home book and figured the planner was the next best thing.

It was fun to read, but as a planner, it was completely sub-par. For one thing, it was totally the wrong size--too big to fit in my purse, yet too small to keep papers, letters and other stuff tucked in. Secondly, there were no lines on which to write--just open spaces for each day. I need the lines. Otherwise, my handwriting just becomes unruly. Finally, the most fatal flaw of the Home Swell Home planner lay in the fact that it was a weekly planner. I realized, too late, that I need to see the whole month at a time. Otherwise, I'll forget things.

My strict parameters made finding the right planner at Staples somewhat difficult. I probably picked up and put down every single planner they had. Finally, the choice came down to two. Both were monthly planners with lines in the boxes, but one was large (the right size for stashing papers) and one was small (the right size for fitting into a purse). In the end, the decision came down to price: the purse-sized planner was $4.50, while the larger planner was $12.50. I decided it was worth risking the possible loss of my sight by trying to squint at the tiny boxes (not to mention the multiple hand cramps I am sure to get while trying to write stuff in the tiny boxes), to save eight bucks.

The newest reality trend: celebrities as fame whores?
This trend first came to my attention when I started watching Paris Hilton on The Simple Life. Why, I wondered, would Paris Hilton want to give up her blissful existence of partying, drinking, making sex tapes and getting into fights with Shannon Doherty to live on a farm for 6 weeks just so she could be on reality television? I'm not buying her excuse that she did it to prove to people that she could. As a veteran watcher of reality TV (and I think a full year of this obsession is enough to earn me "veteran" status), I've learned that reality TV stars basically have two motives for appearing on reality TV: 1. Money. 2. Fame. (I suppose you could argue that finding love is a third motive, but honestly, if anyone at this point actually thinks they're going to find love on reality TV, they're an idiot.)

I know some of you may be thinking that celebrities on reality TV are not exactly a new phenomenon. What about the Osbournes? Or Nick and Jessica? But there's a key difference between the Osbournes and Paris Hilton, namely that the Osbournes (and Nick and Jessica, for that matter) don't have to really do anything to be on reality TV. They just have to live their lives. And since they're doing that anyway, why not garner some extra publicity by letting a couple of cameras follow them around? When you think about it, it's basically just multitasking at its finest.

But, you say, what about shows like Celebrity Mole or that one where Gabrielle Carteris lived in the same house as Corey Feldman? Well, I say, you must realize that the "celebrities" that appear on these shows are only celebrities in the sense that they used to be famous at some point in the very distant past. They are not, like Paris Hilton, regulars on Page Six. (Not that I read Page Six on a regular basis. But I would imagine they don't really run photos of Corey Feldman all that often.)

If it were only Paris Hilton doing this, I wouldn't be so perplexed, as we all know at this point that she's not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. But now Donald Trump is jumping on the fame-whoring bandwagon with his new show, The Apprentice. I mean, really, what's in it for Donald Trump? The money? Whatever cut Mark Burnett's giving him has to be paltry compared to what he's worth overall. Is it the fame? At this point, Donald Trump has become something of a pop-culture icon, so it's hard to believe he would need to whore himself out for fame. And if he's trying to promote this "quality" image that he claims the Trump name stands for (to me, "Trump" says "decadent kitsch" more than it says "quality"), then I hardly think reality TV is the best way to do it. After all, "quality" and "reality television" shouldn't really be used in the same sentence. (Unless, of course, they're being used by me in an ironic sense.) So what gives?

The Great State Conspiracy Uncovered!
Last night as I was doing dishes, I came upon the realization that I do not know anyone who currently lives or has ever lived in Delaware. Maybe this would not be so odd, but I was able to name someone I know (friend, relative, acquaintance, friend of a friend, friend of my parents', relative of a friend of my parents', someone I met once at a business dinner, etc.) in nearly all of the 50 states. But even the other couple of states where I couldn't come up with someone I knew who had lived there (New Hampshire, Wyoming), I had at least visited them, or knew someone who had. But I have never even been to Delaware. And I don't think I know anyone who has. Suddenly, it hit me: What if Delaware doesn't really exist?

Think about it. When my family drove to Maine when I was little, Delaware was one of the few states that we didn't visit (probably due to it being stuck out of the way on the far edge of Maryland, but still.) You never hear of any famous people being from Delaware. No U.S. president was born in Delaware, although Rutherford B. Hayes was born in Delaware, Ohio. (I looked that up, in case you were wondering. I'm not actually able to name the birthplace of Rutherford B. Hayes off the top of my head, although now I probably will be.) When I'm watching college football (and by "watching college football," I of course mean "happening to walk through the room while my dad is watching college football"), I never see Delaware playing. On the Thanksgiving episode of Friends when they were trying to name all the states, which one could Ross not come up with? Delaware. And perhaps the most telling piece of evidence: When I asked Diana if we could go to Delaware when I come to visit her in D.C., she was very quick to say no. (Which, frankly, greatly disappointed me, as I need to go to Delaware to acheive my goal of visiting all 50 states by the time I'm 30 and was hoping to knock it off while I was in the area. Because it's not like I'm going to make an entire trip just to Delaware. Although now I might, just to see if it really does exist.)

Anyway, Diana's blatant refusal to take me to Delaware is obviously part of a larger conspiracy by the Mid-Atlantic states to keep the rest of the country from finding out that Delaware doesn't really exist. When you get your driver's license in Maryland or Virginia or Pennsylvania, they probably clue you in on the whole Delaware cover-up and make you sign some sort of agreement that you won't tell your friends in other states about it.

If any of my readers actually live in Delaware, know someone who lives in Delaware, have been to Delaware or have some other proof of Delaware's existence, please let me know. Until then, I'm asserting my claim that it's a completely fictitious state. (Which means I don't have to visit it by the time I'm 30. Score!)

Back to life, back to reality TV
Well, the holiday season is officially over (signaled by me finally getting off my ass and taking down my Christmas tree). Which is bad because it means no more waking up leisurely at 11:00 and consuming mass quantities of cookies. But it's good because it means a brand-new season of quality reality programming is kicking off.

Starting with last night's premiere of Average Joe 2: Hawaii. On the whole, I found this season's crop of Joes to be much more average. I think there was actually a guy of medium build with brown hair that sells insurance. See, to me that says "average" more than the Indian equivalent of Doogie Howser does. But that's just me. Of course, you still have your slightly, um, off-average guys, but that's to be expected on a show that has so far proved itself to have little to no grasp of the word "average."

And I like this season's beauty queen better than last season's, simply because she seems to be less likeable, from her bitchy facial expressions to her "faux"found statements like, "This experience is like a blank canvas, too." At least she's easy to make fun of. And I always wondered who it was that painted the God-awful paintings that they put in chain hotel rooms. Now I know!

My early favorite is the guy who is obsessively neat and looks like Paul Wylie. I think his incessant need to clean might get on my nerves after a while, but he looks like Paul Wylie! I don't want to know what it says about me that I am attracted to this guy based on the fact that he remind me of a figure skater from the early '90s (although I would suspect it has something to do with my Grace complex).

Oh, and I already hate all of the guys that are set to arrive on the Boat O' Beefcakes (might that be a title for a new reality show?), especially the guy who, in the previews, says, "This is what they're up against!" while pulling up his shirt and flexing his abs. Ugh. That boy is a case of good abs gone bad. Which means he'll probably win.

The happy phantom
Last night, I dreamt that I was a ghost. But I wasn't haunting people. I was just trying to live my normal life, albeit with the added impediment that I was invisible. At first, people seemed freaked out by the fact that I was invisible, but they eventually learned to get used to it.

These are the things I did as a ghost:
1) Had a drink at the Berg
2) Spied on my publisher and my 9th-grade geometry teacher, who for some reason appeared to be sneaking off for some sort of tryst
3) Went shopping with Kristen

It was during this last activity that the whole thing started to break down. Apparently, shopping created some problems with the concept of invisibility in my dream. For instance, if I bought new clothes, would the clothes be visible once I put them on, allowing others to see me, a la the Invisible Man? Or would the clothes also become invisible once I donned them? For some reason, I felt like I was already wearing other clothes while I was invisible. (Although how would I know, since I was invisible?) So why would old clothes be invisible but new clothes visible? But if the new clothes were invisible, how would they make the transition from visible on the rack to invisible on me?

Apparently, all of these questions were too much for my brain to handle, so it was then that I woke up.

Very bad start to the year
They say how you spend New Year's Eve is an indication of how the rest of your year will go. (And by "they," I mean some character on the last episode of The O.C.)

I spent my New Year's Eve eating too much spinach dip and drinking too much wine and then throwing up in my friend Terri's sink, thereby breaking my 11-year no-vomiting streak. Not a good sign.

Of course, New Year's Eve was far better than Christmas Eve, which I celebrated by accidentally setting my hair on fire at the candlelight Christmas Eve service. Most people set their hair on fire at rock concerts or similar, but not me. No, I set my hair on fire at church, much to the glee of my sister (who was allowed to laugh at me as freely and as often as she wished without being reprimanded by our parents--who were also laughing hysterically--since I didn't technically hurt myself).

So, to recap:

December 24, 2003: Set hair on fire

December 31, 2003: Threw up (partially in hair)

All in all, not a good holiday season for my hair. I'm thinking 2004 might be a good year to consider cutting it short again.