Living in Narnia's 1 Year Anniversary

That's right, one year ago today, I stopped containing my bitterness and annoyance and started writing about it on the internet. On this blog, to be exact. It's hard to believe it was a year ago, mainly because every year I expect something amazing to happen that puts me in a wildly different place than I was during the prior year, and every year I become increasingly panicked that I am closer to being 30 with absolutely nothing to show for it except a slammin' body and bitchin' face. I actually hate anniversaries generally speaking, because the last time I was dating someone for a year I received a SpongeBob Squarepants watch from K-Mart as an anniversary gift in lieu of the diamond stud earrings that I had selected for myself and requested via telepathy. We broke up shortly thereafter.

On a "serious" note, I just wanted to thank you for reading. I "struggle" with "depression" and getting a random "thanks for writing" email or a comment letting me know that someone is out there agreeing with me about The Bachelor really helps. As does fish oil.


Highlights of the year include being picked up by Racked, CNN and Awful Plastic Surgery. I am especially proud of the Awful Plastic Surgery mention, for obvious reasons. Anyway, I'm happy that I've been able to give a voice to the bitter, disenfranchised people that I know exist out there. The people who are not willing to accept mandals. The people who are angry when boring political programming interrupts critical shows and become infuriated when Tim Russert is treated like a fallen hero for simply having a heart attack at his desk and dying. The people who yearn for an official ranking of candy bars based on deliciousness and who believe in their hearts that Nights in Rodanthe has ruined their lives. I am proud to speak on behalf of those 327 unique people (according to Sitemeter), and I look forward to the day when I am paid for doing so.

Bachelor Spinoff With Fat People A Horrible Idea To Put It Mildly

Prince Lorenzo Borghese will not be on the show

I just read the terrifying news on People that The Bachelor creator Mike Fleiss is collaborating on a Bachelor-esque show called "More to Love" which will feature a fat "Kevin James-like" bachelor and "average" women vying for him. Why would anybody watch a show about hideous monsters when there are plenty of other shows that feature goodlooking people?If I wanted to see ugly women or revolting men, I would just step outside my apartment or walk around the block a few times. The point of tv is to make fun of better looking and more in shape people in order to feel better about yourself; if people are uglier and fatter than me then how am I supposed to tear them down and what will happen to my self-confidence? I don't even want to think about that - too disturbing.

What's even MORE ridiculous is that People and Mike Fleiss do not seem to realize that this EXACT show has already been on tv. Nice try, but it was called "Average Joe" and the bachelor was Adam Mesh. Last year I actually ran into Adam Mesh at Canyon Road on the Upper East Side as I was waiting to consume margaritas at their fine establishment, and I told him "you're not average to me" which is true becuase he is actually worse than average and bears an alarming resemblance to David Gest. In any event, the girls on Average Joe were sad sacks themselves - dumpy, in need of nosejobs, etc. - and because the show had to limit the hottub scenes due to the fact that nobody wanted to see that stuff, it was not renewed for another season. All I have to say is thank god for small miracles because More or Less show will be on Fox, meaning that nobody will be watching it, except for myself purely for anthropological study purposes.

P.S. Wait for me Lorenzo

Movie Review: Milk Does a Body Terrible

This weekend I had the misfortune of watching Milk on demand, because I had already watched The Duchess and if you think I'm going to waste my time watching Vicky Cristina Barcelona or Rachel Getting Married, you're living in Narnia. In retrospect I should have just watched Trading Place for the 578th time on Bravo because Milk was a piece of shit. It was boring, long, shot terribly and spliced with 70s footage, the dialogue was cringe-worthy, the opera symbolism was ridiculous and stolen directly from Amadeus and there was no point of that guy from Minnesota in a wheelchair who kept on calling and annoying Milk when he was in the middle of doing something important. I asked out loud at least 4 times if this movie was a joke and that is never a good sign. Below is a list of the characters in the movie that could have been cut out and the movie would have been better:

1. Kid in the wheelchair from Minnesota - served no purpose other than corniness
2. Josh Brolin
3. Jack the annoying lover - very annoying
4. Scott the ex-lover
5. Harvey Milk - annoying
6. Victor Garber - needless character that was included only because Victor Garber likes to appear in every movie ever made but should have just stopped at Legally Blonde
7. Cleve Jones - no point in him
8. Guy who was crying with the candle in the last scene who kind of looks like James Franco

Explaining My Situation

My office

I am called on to explain "what I do" probably more often than most people, because I seemingly do nothing all day, and people like to try to embarrass me by calling me out on it, which is always ineffective because they are unaware of the contents of my ING Savings account which is very large indeed. When people have a vague sense of "what I do" - they know that I "write" for a "living" - they then try to insert some kind of condescension into their line of questioning. This usually take the form of people saying, "How are your blogs doing?" or "How's the blogging coming?" which is meant to insult me, because seriously how am I supposed to respond to that shit? "My blogs are doing great! One went to the park the other day and the other one is tending to an ear infection." "Blogging is amazing...I love sitting at my desk every day and sending insane ramblings into outerspace for no money - you should try it!!!"

As you can see, there is no good way to respond to this where it looks like I am doing anything other than being a complete vagrant and am about to be homeless with a teabag hanging from my teeth. I actually ran into somebody I used to work with at my firm the other day. He was standing outside a bar smoking and LUCKILY I was coming back from a VERY IMPORTANT business meeting and had some makeup on and had been hitting the gymnasio extra hard that week and so when he asked me what I was doing now, at least I didn't look as if I had fall into physical disrepair as well as the mental disrepair that I clearly exhibited as I went rambling on excitedly about "freelancing" and "blogs" while he probably snickered internally.

I'm on ANTM, AS THREATENED

As threatened, I am on America's Next Top Model. Megan is also on ANTM. Yesterday, an episode aired where the models posed in a pose-off with Benny Ninja at Mansion in NYC. Megan somehow got me and her friend Dave invited and we were obviously seated directly behind Tyra's makeup artist (whom Megan said hello to) and were on camera because of our photogenic natures. Megan is the one with the red hair strangling herself, and I am immediately to her left, mostly blocked by some woman's head wrap, but mainly looking like an old bald man with no dentures. It was a fine day.

One of These Things is Not Like The Other

So it is apparently a slow week in celebrity news, because People features Valerie Bertinelli on the cover in a bikini. With the help of Jenny Craig, chicken cutlet bikini inserts, Mariah Carey's spray-on abs and contour tanning, the finest Photoshopping in the land and the "casual" contorted Jazz split she's doing on the cover, Valerie's body looks ridonk for 49. Unfortunately, someone may be losing their job very soon at People's photo editing department because they appear to have put Maria Shriver's shrive(r)led prune face on Valerie' body. What the hell happened?

Face Powder

Mine is not this color

It occurred to me this weekend as I was shalaquing (sp?) makeup on my face, that every pressed powder that I've ever bought smells like a combination of grandma underwear and tin foil. I'm currently using Lancome, which is vaguely an old lady brand, so I guess that smell is to be expected, but I've used MAC, Clinique and Cover Girl in the past, and they all have the same odor, with Cover Girl being the most tin-foily smelling of the bunch. It's disgusting and outrageous that these cosmetic companies are so large and successful and yet they're still wedded to olde tyme scents like dentist bib and wooden leg that were popular in the 1910s. Every time I apply my powder I end up holding my breath, which wouldn't be such a nuisance except for the fact that I have to reapply a zillion times a day because there's an oil rig located on my face, and whenever I hold my breath I can't go back to breathing normally right away because I'm conscious of my breath for the next few minutes. So, does anybody have a recommendation for a non-terrible smelling powder?

Twits in Narnia

I've just joined twitter - username Robespierre15 - and I'll be honest, I don't understand its appeal. But the cool kids are using it these days and I'll be damned if I haven't spent my life trying to be one of them. Twitter also seems fitting because my dad refers to me and my sisters as "the Twits" after our favorite book, The Twits, by Roald Dahl, about Mr. and Mrs. Twit who constantly try to sabotage each other.

I've put a badge on the right column here, under the Facebook badge, in case any cares to "follow" - just click on the badge and you'll be up and running. I promise not to update it with absurd and annoying "tweets" such as "Robespierre had a great workout!!!" or "Robespierre is having a wonderful day!" or "Robespierre just made a delicious cup of Ramen noodles but may be allergic to the onion powder :(!!!" I'm pretty confident no one wants to read about it if I or anybody else just finished a wonderful book or is excited about going out to dinner. I will limit the number of times I tweet per day so as not to seem desperate or lame, and I will restrict the content to bad and ridiculous news and mockery only so you won't have to worry about me ruining your day by being needlessly cheery. No one likes a brown noser.

Plastic Surgery to Look Like Demi Moore?

Yesterday, People.com had an article about how Demi Moore wishes that she could discourage a terminally ill fan named Lisa Connell who plans to have $60,000 of plastic surgery to look like Demi. Demi says that Lisa doesn't need to have the breast implants, lipo, brow lift, and skin overhaul that she's planning because she's already beautiful. Well, I agree with Demi, not only because Lisa is beautiful, but also because Demi Moore's own plastic surgery has supposedly cost around $300,000, so $60,000 just won't cut it. This is exactly what happened to the Octo-Mom: she wanted to look like Angelina Jolie, but she only had about $10,000 to finance it so she ended up looking like an Angelina Jolie wax figure as seen through old prescription contact lenses.

If you want to look like a celebrity, you can't put a number on the amount you're willing to pay in order to finance it. $60,000 may only get Lisa to look like Demi Moore in Ghost, but as we all know, since that time, Demi may have had jaw-realignment surgery (which I will be getting shortly), two sets of implants, ab liposculpture, lip collagen, improved veneers, and luxxxurious hair extensions washed exclusively in Kabbalah water. It's the equivalent of me saying that I want to look more like Kate Hudson (if that is even possible) but only springing for the surgeries where they chop off my boobs and make my ears stick out. Not a good scene.

Perry Strikes From A Distance

Free to pee on you and me

This weekend as I was getting ready for a rehearsal dinner in DC, I went into my suitcase to get out my Higher Power Spanx. When put them on, one of the legs was kind of stiff and weird and was strangling my thigh, and the other was normal regular thigh suffocation, so either one leg became obese overnight while the other remained the same, or there was something wrong with the Spanx. Shortly thereafter, as I was blow drying my hair simultaneously counteracting my straightening efforts by sweating profusely from the blow dryer heat, I noticed that the bathroom started to reek of pee. I bent over to smell the weird leg of the Spanx and it confirmed what I had initially suspected, which was that Perry had apparently peed on my Spanx a while back and I had now infected my entire luggage with dog pee.

You may be wondering how Perry could have possibly peed on my Spanx, and you may in fact suspect that maybe I peed on myself and am now trying to blame it on Perry. Well, the answer, to which all visitors to my apartment as well as Oprah can attest, is that I throw all my clothes on ground after I wear them. Sometimes I attempt to be neat and throw them on the ground in my closet. Perry is currently going throw a teenage boy phase, where every night I say , "Bedtime!" and he jumps off the bed and goes into a closet and makes a fort out of my clothes on the floor and sleeps on them. On nights when he's been drinking (water), sometimes he takes matters into his own hands and relieves himself in my closet in the middle of the night. Since this has happened only twice in the last year there is very little need for me learn my lesson and stop throwing things on the floor.

So, my options were wearing Perry pee-smelling Spanx or not wearing Spanx at all, and as the latter was not really an option as my dress was ludicrously tight, I perservered with wearing the Spanx for the rehearsal dinner. The following night I was also forced to wear the Spanx again as my dress was even more ludicrously tight, closely resembled an anus, and was, according to Megan, also worn by "high class hookers." As I was regaling my friend Aaron with the Spanx story, he asked why I didn't just go out and buy new Spanx for the wedding on Saturday or just wash the pee ones on Saturday morning so that they would be dry in time for Saturday night. I replied that a) it did not occur to me to wash them and b) that maybe he was a millionaire but I am "technically" "unemployed" and I didn't have the chests of gold required to commandeer a cab around DC looking for some Higher Power Size A Spanx with a telescope and a three cornered hat like Christopher Columbus and so I thought the most prudent way to proceed was to just have people notify me if they started to smell dog pee.

Good Idea

"Fuck it, we'll do it live!"

Subdivided Kid just suggested an excellent idea - more liveblogging. I love it, you love it (apparently, according to the Sitemeter). Since I watch all reality shows, are there any ones that people would want me to liveblog in particular? Biggest Loser? Intervention? Millionaire Matchmaker? Rock of Love? Tough Love? The Amazing Race? Real Housewives of NYC? I feel so lost without The Bachelor, god - why don't they hurry up with the filming of The Bachelorette so we can watch it already. Do not say Survivor: Tocantins. First of all, nobody knows where that is and second of all nobody watches that show anymore.

To be honest, I don't watch whatever cycle of America's Next Top Model is on now so I don't feel like I could criticize the people adequately while liveblogging, but I certainly will be watching when the short people season starts, mainly because Tyra has rescheduled the NYC tryouts after the riots a few weeks ago and I have A STRONG SUSPICION that I will be on it.

Lack of Posts

You may have noticed that I haven't been posting on here that much in the last week. Well, at least one of you has noticed and harassed me about it on Facebook. If you like the blog, then you shoulda put a ring on it.

In any event, I haven't been posting because I've been "busy" doing "other "paying" jobs. Not that this blog hasn't made me rich as a Nazi with people wildly clicking on all the Google AdSense JDate ads on the side. Also, I haven't been feeling that inspired or hilarious lately, so I got paranoid that I was falling into a depression, which made me even more paranoid because I don't have health insurance to get the medication to treat the drepression, and then I got annoyed because not that I have the option to do so, but I didn't want to have to go back on Lexapro I basically spent 8 months weaning myself off of it according to the plan prescribed to me by myself which involved taking the 15 10 milligram pills I had left since I quit my job in May, breaking them in half to 5 milligram pills, taking one of those every several days until I felt I was less depressed than 5 milligrams, and then taking a kitchen knife and chopping them up to 2.5 milligrams, and so on and so forth until I was literally eating the Lexapro dust out of the bottle like it was Fun Dip and I was in 5th grade.

I FINALLY settled the matter today by purchasing another bottle of Nordic Naturals Fish Oil, which I've taken before and highly recommend for its psychosomatic effects, which I had put off buying because it costs $12.99 and some of don't have that kind of cash just lying around.

Words to Live By

"If you don't have a life worth complaining about, why live?"
- Robespierre to Sean
On couch while drinking wine and eating microwaved Boca Burger
out of the wrapper.
3/17/09, 6:40pm.

Natasha Richardson Injured, Possibly Dead

Last night it was reported that Natasha Richardson, who I think has been in some movies but is mostly Liam Neeson's wife, suffered a serious brain injury after falling on a beginner's slope while skiing in Canada. Perez Hilton is actually reporting that she died, but I haven't seen that elsewhere. While her injury and (possible) death are tragic, you would think that by now celebrities are aware that they should never a) ski or b) get on a small plane unless they're prepared to die. The normal ski death rate is pretty high which is why my mom never allowed us to go skiing, which was annoying in middle school because all the cool kids went skiing and also took cruises and got their hair braided with beads for the purposes of coming back to school and bragging, but it seems like sound judgment now. However, celebrities face near certain death when they go skiing, because it is one of only two adequately glamourous ways to die, because who has the money and the time to go skiing and die while doing it except famous people. Apparently Sonny Bono and RFK's son, Michael, did.

The other acceptable mode of death for celebrities is to die by private planes. You would think that by now if you were a celebrity and someone asked you to fly in a non-commercial flight, you'd be like, um, nice try, didn't you see what happened to Aaliyah, Buddy Holly, that Lynrd Skynrd guy, JFK Jr., Carolyn Kennedy, and that bizarro baseball player who drove a helicopter into a building in NYC a few years ago? The best case scenario a celebrity can hope for is to survive with burns over 70% of their body like DJ AM and Travis Barker and then have to cover it up with tattoos. Anyway, if any celebrities are reading this, I urge you to just calm down and knock it off with the ski trips and private jets because while these two things are status symbols, there are perfectly good other ways to brag that don't involve dying.

More Wisdom from Cabdrivers

Last June, I told the story of how I ordered a car to take me to NJ and the cab driver informed me that Jews wear little hats on their head so that no one can see what they're thinking and steal their business plans. This weekend, I was fortunate enough to learn the true story of Passover from a cab driver on Saturday night. We were coming from Milan's birthday party, so I was talking about Serbians, when the cab driver, Mohammed Sallem, looks in the rearview mirror, tells me he is Egyptian and asks me to tell him my opinion on Egyptians.

So I tell them that Egyptians are very interesting because they walk around doing the Walk Like An Egyptian dance, they live in pyramids which were built by the enslaved Jews and are ruled by a Pharoah named Ramses. Mohammed then told me that the pyramids are tombs, which I pointed out as false because they are houses, and that nobody does the Walk Like An Egyptian dance - people walk normally. I asked him to prove it and he said he couldn't because he was driving and then told him nice try and declared victory. Mohammed then asked me if I wanted to know the truth, and I said of course, and he said in that actuality the Jews were never slaves in Egypt, they were in fact the trusted advisors of the Pharoahs and the Egyptians, which is why the Jews were able to borrow all the gold from the Egyptians before fleeing the country which they then made into a golden calf. I told Mohammed that his version of events was a blatant lie, and that no self-respecting Jew would steal gold and then waste it on making an ugly gold statue, and that the more likely scenario was that they took the gold and started jewelry businesses in midtown Manhattan and the cab driver agreed that this is probably what happened.

Riots at the America's Next Top Model Auditions

This is what happens when you insinuate that I'm not a model

By now you may have heard that there was a stampede at the America's Next Top Model auditions for midgets in NYC this Saturday, which resulted in three people being arrested and six being trampled with injuries, which is pretty hilarious. Several of you have emailed me demanding an explanation for the "fracas" because there are a lot of rumors flying about how the stampede started, including an unlikely one about how someone said a car was on fire near the audition.

Well, the truth is that I was standing in line in my bikini, fur vest and cowboy hat, and I told this girl in front of me that she was just wasting her time because she didn't have a fresh personality or take fierce pictures. The girl then began to insinuate that I was not a model, at which point I had to take out my bunion, show her that in fact I AM a model, and then unfortunately I had beat her down with my bunion for disrespecting me and that's when things got ugly.

Friendly Reminder: VH1's Tough Love Premieres Tonight

Just a friendly reminder that Tough Love, which is a cross between He's Just Not That Into You and The Pickup Artist, premieres tonight at 10pm EST. In the show, women who aren't necessarily hideous trolls live in a house and get lessons from a douchebag guy in how to acquire a boyfriend, since they have previously been unable to do so. This show appears to be absolutely key and, in conjunction with The Millionaire Matchmaker, will provide critical insight into the minds of very rich men.

Mii

My Mii, as masterminded by Megan
"The truth hurts"

Check Depositing Fiasco

America's Most Convenient Bank to Rob

So last week, Above the Law sent me a check for my VERY excellent work as a guest blogger for the week I filled in. I had big plans to deposit it and then squander it immediately on clothing, but the night before I was planning to roll up to TD bank, the tv in the cab had a story about how there have been a string of robberies at TD bank in the past week, and how someone named Ray Kelly says that they're the most unsafe banks in NYC where you are most likely to be shot. They then SHOWED THE INSIDE OF THE TD BANK WHICH I GO TO, which I recognized due to the green TD logo and leftover Commerce Bank furniture and indicated that that was the bank in which one of the robberies took place.

This is just my luck - pretty much the first time someone pays me for writing I get a check that I can't deposit because there's robbers in my bank. And while they may not be there now, I actually don't feel like getting shot today or worse, having the robber take my check from me. This is exactly why I don't working any more, because even when someone tries to pay me the banks are broken. I literally cannot win.

Countdown to Being Discovered: Days 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 & 10

March 7, 2009: Re-ordered eyelid drooping cream, as eye situation appears dire.

March 8, 2009: Pressed face against sheet of white paper and created a beautiful oil painting.

March 9, 2009: Drank a glass of sangria and felt repulsed after eating the soggy fruit in it.

March 10, 2009: Picked hair out of Perry's right ear with a tweezer and admired the crust which smelled vaguely of yeast.

March 11, 2009: Watched The Biggest Loser on DVR and made detailed plans to visit the set and drag useless Ron off myself.

March 12, 2009: Used two sets of Crest Whitening strips back to back today and believed that teeth became at least 3 shades whiter than before.

Girlfriend Experience

A few days ago, Above the Law posted this ad from Craigslist by some law student from Miami who was also a hooker who was going to be in town for a few days, and was advertising "G//F//E." Since I'm not a prostitute (yet), I googled GFE and discovered that it stands for "Girlfriend Experience." According to Wikipedia, the Girlfriend Experience is a type of service offered by a female prostitute which includes acting like a girlfriend to the client. Um, why anybody would want to PAY to be nagged, annoyed, yelled at and threatened with ultimatums is beyond me, but apparently what separates a hooker from a GFE hooker is that the GFE hooker provides "french kissing and deep french kissing (DFK)."

Alrighty - can someone please explain to me what the hell's the difference between french kissing and deep french kissing? What even IS deep french kissing? Is it like when you have an emotional connection to someone like Bret Michaels does with Taya on Rock of Love Bus, and then you kiss them? I've polled a few people and I'm pretty convinced that Wikipedia made up that term because everyone I spoke to only knew about frenching, but then called me a loser for calling it frenching, which is annoying because I was just trying to use the technical term.

Devastating Dog News

Little Ghenghis, R.I.P.

I had plans today, BIG PLANS, to go to the gym, but I just checked People.com and one of the stories was that Martha Stewart's Chow, Ghenghis Khan, died in a propane explosion at a kennel on Saturday. Well that's it for me folks. If you need me, I'll be crying uncontrollably at my desk all day.

What I don't get about this incident is that Martha is only "deeply saddened" by the loss of her dog. If Perry died while in the care of a kennel, I would blow myself up, carefully remove all the dogs from the kennel and put them in a hotel and then take a machine gun and kill everyone there.

Play Review: Hair

Yesterday, my family went to see Hair the musical on Broadway, not to be confirmed with Hairspray, the other musical on Broadway. Hair is the one where people are hippies, and Hairspray is the one where people are fat and do the twist. In any event, I had never seen Hair before, but I went in with as open a mind as I could which is saying a lot, considering that it was a) a musical not named Les Miserables and b) it was a musical.

The show was fine, meaning I thought the acting and singing weregood despite the corny nature of the entire situation, but the main problem with the show was that the actors KEPT ON COMING INTO THE AUDIENCE and singing and touching people. They entered the audience at least seven times and were looking at people there and made jokes about people sitting in the front row. This resulted in me having a goddamn panic attack the entire time that someone was going to come near me or touch me while singing, but thankfully I was sitting in the middle of the row and therefore relatively safe from having to be touched or looked at by an actor, because if I had been sitting on the aisle like my dad and someone in a '70s costume so much as looked at me, I would have immediately slit my wrists with the playbill and then shot myself.

I'm sorry but the WHOLE POINT of plays is that the actors are supposed to remain on the stage, and you're supposed to be in the audience making snide remarks about the show, and the two are not supposed to acknowledge each other until the bows at the end. Here, it was like they were trying to involve the audience IN the play so I was spent the entire time terrified of checking my blackberry for fear that some actor would see me doing it and make a scene. The worst part was at the end, when they're doing like an extended megamix of the song "Hair," the actors actually GO INTO THE ORCHESTRA AND PULL THE FIRST TEN ROWS OF PEOPLE ON STAGE TO DANCE. In fact, my dad saw one of the guys that goes to his gym dancing on stage and suggested we get his autograph.

The point is that when they sell tickets to any show they need to warn people about the danger zones for likely participation. When people fly they have the choice not to sit in the emergency exit seats if they don't feel comfortable being the last ones out of the plane when it crashes, and Broadway needs to get wise to the fact that most theatergoers are VERY UNCOMFORTABLE interacting with people singing in costumes and want to be assured when purchasing tickets they will not be touched or looked at by these people during the show.

Watchmen

It is an indisputable fact that comic books are both totally unacceptable as well as HIGHLY NERDY, and therefore it should come as no surprise that movies about comic books are also unacceptable. For your convenience, I have compiled the below list of sanctioned responses if someone invites you to go see the movie Watchmen:

1. No
2. Hahah
3.Is that a joke?
4. You have to be kidding me.
5. Are you a nerd?
6. That's strike two.
7. Don't be ridiculous, cousin.
8. You're a real nerd.

Countdown to Being Discovered: Days 3, 4 &5

March 4, 2009: Got haircut. While the shampoo girl was washing my hair, her nail scratched at a zit on my hairline, resulting in blood coming down my face and a scab on my forehead.

March 5, 2009: Declined third glass of wine at Italian restaurant.

March 6, 2009: Practiced my "why do you think you should be America's Next Top Model" speech: "I'm living proof that being a model is not about being 'thin' or 'pretty,' or 'taking great photos,' or even 'looking good in clothing.' Being a model is about having a beautiful spirit and a good heart, and while I don't have either of those things, I have friends who might."

The View from Narnia

To Catch a Predator

Jillian is the New Bachelorette: I CALLED IT

Ugh, you again

Well, just as I predicted, the "twist" in the After the After the Final Rose show was that Jillian is the next Bachelorette. This seems somewhat logistically problematic, as I highly doubt that ABC will be able to locate 25 men who want to fight over a Celine Dion lookalike and a poor man's DeAnna Pappas. But I've been wrong before, and it's possible with ABC's army of personal trainers, tanning professions, wardrobe consultants and dermatological upper lip collagen injection specialists, that Jillian can be transformed from random girl on JDate to better looking random girl on JDate. At this time I would just like predict that the new season will most certainly feature a hotdog contest.

Countdown to Being Discovered: Day 2

March 3, 2009: Today I ate an entire bag of Pommes Frites covered in two sauces. The sauces were mango chutney mayo and pomegranate teriyaki mayo.

LiveBlogging After the After the Final Rose TONIGHT at 10PM EST

Get a room

One of the biggest surprises of last night, besides discovering that Jason was not America's favorite dad from Seattle, but rather a fickle jerkhat of epic proportions, was that there was going to be an After the After the Final Rose ceremony, which airs TONIGHT at 10 PM. Chris Harrison says there is going to be "one final twist" in this sordid tale of complete shamosity and betrayal, and I'm guessing it will either involve Melissa's limo turning her around and bring her back to the studio to confront lying Jason and backstabbing Molly OR they will bring out the new Bachelorette. According to the press release, there is also going to be an "exciting and moving" retrospective on this past season, which promises to involve soaring music, aerial shots and a montage of Jason on 23 helicopter dates.

So join me, won't you, for one last hour, as I liveblog what I hope will be the finale of the finale, so we can collectively tear Jerkson Mesjerk and that serpent Molly a new one and send them off in fine style.

Perry's Admirer

I'm not the only one with paparazzi after me - there's a dog photographer who roams NYC's dog parks and has snapped pics of Perry. A few months ago, he apparently took some surreptitious pics of Perry doing his thang at the Tompkins Sq. dog park, and one day I was walking with Perry in Union Square and this guy runs up to me, asks me if Perry usually goes to Tompkins Sq. park and if he usually wears a black coat. I was like, "um, why" and then he said that he just take pictures of dogs with a zoom lens and posts it without the owner’s permission on his blog. I can assure you it was in no way alarming whatsoever. Anyway - check out the pictures - this was a particularly pompadoury haircut of Perry's - it's usually not that Mozart-esque.

Transcript of Bachelor Finale Coverage

Well, Jason is a monster. To read commentary detailing his transformation from loveable loser to demon from hell, click on the transcript of my live blogging session below and hit the down arrow to scroll through.

LiveBlogging The Bachelor Finale TONIGHT 8 PM EST

As everybody knows, tonight is the two hour season finale of The Bachelor, followed immediately by a one hour "After The Final Rose" show in which Molly and DeAnna will demand answers and cry, and Jason will just say that "he didn't think he could go all the way" and that his "connection was stronger" with Melissa. I am well aware that this show will be history in the making - which is why I've decided to make my OWN history and Live Blog this episode. Check back here starting at 8pm, and you'll be able to see me providing very insightful commentary on what promises to be the Most Romantic Proposal In Bachelor History. Readers, will you accept THIS ROSE?

Countdown to Being Discovered: Day 1

Many people have asked me what I'm doing to prepare for the America's Next Top Model Auditions, which take place on March 14 in NYC. You may recall that for the upcoming "cycle" of the show, they're casting women under 5'7," which is perfect for me because I'm exactly 7 inches shorter than the maximum height requirement. To increase my chances of getting on the show, I've scoured the internets and found this Q&A with the casting director, who urges women to leave their wigs at home and show up in tank tops and jeans and very little makeup. I got the sense from the interview that they're looking for natural beauties like myself, so I've devised a two week plan to get myself in top condition for the audition. Accordingly, every day until March 14th I'm going to post what I'm doing that day in order to prepare myself for what can only be described as certain fame and fortune.

Alright, here it goes:

March 2, 2009: Today I thought about going to the gym but ultimately decided against it.