Fresh New 'Do

$130, plus tip, making his haircut $40 more than mine

The View from Narnia

Subtle product placement in the bedding section of Bed, Bath & Beyond Awful

*Photo courtesy of Jen

LiveBlogging The Bachelorette TONIGHT, 8PM EST

Be there or risk looking like Jillian.

Blueprint Cleanse

Blueprint cleanse bottles, located very near margarita mix

It's no secret that I have been feeling like a fat ass lately, but last week I decided to do something about it. Rather than increase my 6.9 treadmill speed or limit my Mexican food intake, the latter of which is completely out of the question, I opted for the Blueprint cleanse as a quick fix that would solve all of my problems. The Blueprint is one of these "designer" cleanses where you pay $195 for the privilege of having juices made of fresh troglodytes, gargoyles and pond scum delivered to your house, and then you drink these drinks, brag to all your friends about doing a cool cleanse and feel starving and homicidal without food for your choice of 1, 3 or 5 days. Several people I know swear by this cleanse (not sure what that means), and the Blueprint website claims that many celebrities also use the cleanse, but declines to name them, which means that either no celebrities are doing it or like Madonna and Mariah are doing it but Blueprint couldn't afford to pay for their names.

Last week after downing a bag of Haribo gummy bears at 2am, clutching my stomach and asking Perry why the hell he let me eat them all, I ordered three days of the level 2 "Foundation" cleanse rid myself of "toxins" and return to looking like the absolute rock start that I normally am. The instructions they emailed me said to "prepare" by incorporating vegetables and fruits into all my meals 48 hours before my cleanse, which I took the liberty of reducing to 24 hours, but otherwise diligently adhered to by eating a cheese quesadilla topped chunky salsa and drinking a margarita with a fresh lime in it.

About ten minutes ago, the delivery guy arrived at my apartment with my cooler bags full of these magical elixirs and as I was grabbing the stuff from him, he sees that the ice cream container in which I was momentarily indulging prior to his arrival is open on my counter and he says "Can't eat ice cream on this!" at which point I point him to the fact that it's actually carob chip which is a vegetable and is strictly encouraged in order to cleanse. He laughs and leaves, and I unload the bags into my fridge, as you can see above.

So that everybody doesn't waste money on this garbage, I will be providing a daily update on my experience with the cleanse here, which will be measured by fatness of ass as determined by fit of pants, ability of cleanse to cure mental and emotional problems and ability of cleanse to secure me a job. Stay tuned.

O, My Luve's Like a Red Red Rose

O, my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
-Robert Burns

Chiropracty: The Pursuit of Charlatanry

Representing the latest advances in medicine

The other day, I was reviewing other peoples' Facebook profiles and snickering because that's how I roll, when I came across a profile of an acquaintance of mine with her new baby. I grudgingly admitted that the picture of her and her baby was VAGUELY cute so I frantically searched her profile for ways I could tear her down in order to make myself feel better about the situation, at which point I discovered that her husband was a CHIROPRACTOR. HAHAHAHAHAHAH. I nearly choked to death I was laughing so hard, because then I saw that he was a chiropractor with a practice in Long Island, and I nearly lost my shit. If there's one occupation that's even lower on the totem pole than being a"freelance writer" it is being a chiropractor in Long Island.

I can't even deal with chiropracty andI literally cannot believe people buy into it. It's like no matter what problem you present with, their solution is to crack your back. Ear infection? Back crack. Cold? Neck crack. Nobody who goes to Harvard or any accredited school ever becomes a chiropractor, because it's reserved for the lowest common denomitor who fail out of Le Cordon Bleu and want to be their own boss. In fact, I think if you have a degree from a real school you are automatically rejected because you're morely to ask "probing" questions in class like "how does cracking a back in any way impact someone's else health."

If someone set me up on a date, and I was like "I'm a freelance writer - I know, EMBARRASSING" and he was like, "I'm a doctor" and I was like "Oh goody, what KIND of doctor" and he said "chiropractor" I would very calmly grab a wine bottle and bash it over his head, because you can't string people along like that and lead them to believe you have a real profession and then suckerpunch them by telling them you're a chiropractor or a D.O. (which once happened to me, and I had to spend the entire evening explaining that D.O.s are complete jokes and no one chooses to be them unless you do horribly on your MCAT which is in itself deeply humiliating).

LiveBlogging The Bachelorette TONIGHT, 8PM EST

Tonight I'll be liveblogging The Bachelorette beginning at 8pm. Join me in criticizing Jillian's nose, her side talking, her inexplicable needs to wear boots, the helicopter/airplane dates and in general the complete lunacy of this show. I plan to liveblog the show each week, so mark your calendars because we have a standing date. As Bill O'Reilly says, "Fuck it, we'll do it live!"