Lifetime rules on dreary days

Not feeling so great today. And it sucks outside, so why bother leaving? You couldn't pay me to go down to Thunder.

Besides, there's a fabulous (read: awful) movie marathon on the Lifetime Movie Network called "Drama Teens." I'm all over it.

So far, I've watched a flick starring Elisha Cuthbert about a teen girl addicted to gambling.

Just finished another about a college freshman and the lessons she learned after her roomie died from binge drinking.

Now, I'm watching "Dying to Belong," starring a pre-Oscar Hillary Swank. I think it has something to do with a tragic sorority prank.

OMG, Sarah Chalke is in this too! Oh look, and some dude from "Saved by the Bell" too: Mark-Paul something or other. Well, there goes another two hours of my life.

I haven't been this badly entertained since I discovered the stinker of all Lifetime movies, "CoEd Call Girl," starring Tori Spelling. If I'm lucky, maybe that will be in the line up today! One can only hope.

My eyes hurt

So, I just went to the grocery. 9:45 p.m. on a Thursday night. And there was a woman there -- 24 years old, maybe -- wearing a t-shirt, tennis shoes and bikini bottoms. Very, very small bikini bottoms.... on a not-so-small bottom.

There were at least three inches of ass cheek bubbling out of each side. I've seen bigger panties on Victoria's Secret models.

I'm not disparaging her body. Heck, my butt is pretty, um, healthy. But would it really kill her to throw on some shorts to go to fucking Kroger? Or at least some boy short bathing suit bottoms? Geez, Louise.

A case of the Mondays

... and it's Tuesday. So not fair.

I'm incapable of stringing together a paragraph after having a pretty crappy day. My lovely friend Javacia loves to make lists (and so do I), so I'm taking a cue from her today.



Things I would rather do than relive today, which left me deflated and super unmotivated:

1. Eat a foot sandwich, slathered in mayonnaise, on rye bread.

2. Apply liquid eyeliner, which always takes me about an hour to get right.

3. Wait in line at the St. Matthews post office.

4. Drive through Wyoming, the most boring and worthless state in the U.S.

5. Root for the Green Bay Packers.

6. Balance my checkbook.

7. Run my fingers through Bret Michaels' "hair."

8. Sit through a Dave Matthews Band concert. ... No, scratch that one. I'd rather redo today.

9. Wear skinny jeans.

10. Paint another room in my house.

Tomorrow has got to be better. Right?

Goodbye, brain cells

Summary haiku:
I are a third grade
grajooit. Now Flavor Flav
wants to conversate.




Yes, I'm watching "Flavor of Love." I don't know why I do this to myself.

It's always gutwrenching on a variety of levels, but tonight, it's an especially vast grammatical wasteland.

I've grown accustomed to them butchering spelling. Flav gives his suitors nicknames, such as Myammee (Miami); Grayvee (Gravy); DYMZ (Dimes); Sinceer (Sincere). You get the point.

But during the first 20 minutes of the show, four different women used the word "dramatical." As in, "You should get as dramatical as you want."

One woman told Flav he was her love, her best friend, her "confident."

Someone else said, "It's everyone for theyself." And finally, someone was glad that Flav "standed his ground."

Thank God the Kansas/Memphis game started at 9:30, because now Kyle is watching that and I'm too lazy to move to one of the other TVs.

On another note, I hate that "I'll Melt With You" Taco Bell commercial. They ruined the song, and seeing people with melted cheese suspended in midair between their lips and a giant burrito is just ... fucking gross.

DVDs are going to save someone's life

... and they will probably prevent me from going to jail.

We go to the movies about once a year. Since I work days and Kyle usually works nights (and until recently, weekends), it just doesn't work into the schedule.

But last night -- Friday -- we decided to go see "Shutter." Our new house is about a five-minute walk to the theater, so perhaps this would be the start of a more frequent moviegoing era for us.

We got there early to snag some decent seats. When we opened the door to our screen, it was already as loud as a sports bar during a Final Four game. Scraggly-haired teenage boys were wrestling each other and hanging over the side of the seating area above our heads. Girls were screeching and pointing and giggling at the boys. They were all changing seats every 2 minutes, making and receving phone calls and text messages, and they all seemed to know each other.

We were the ONLY people in there over the age of 19. It was so annoying, we were considering leaving before the movie even started. One preview was for "Prom Night," and even though I couldn't hear it, I saw teenagers getting stalked and killed on screen and said to Kyle, "I wish that movie would happen in here right now."

Long story short, the theater employees came and gave some wooden speech about being quiet, turning off cell phones, etc. And they actually stationed a police officer in our theater. Still, phones were ringing during the movie, kids were yelling and screaming out jokes and commentary.

The cop was on top of things, but it's not like he could arrest them for being assholes. If that were the case, he'd have needed 15 paddy wagons to transport every last one of them.

Mowgli from "The Jungle Book" -- who you may remember was raised by wild animals -- was more put together than these kids.

For three years, I was an editor for 30 teenagers who wrote for our teen section at a newspaper in Washington. They were fabulous, smart, funny kids. I'm sure they all got wild from time to time... hell, I did at that age, too. But I can't imagine any of them being this out of control. And to be fair, there were a handful of well-behaved teens last night who seemed just as irritated as us. Somehow, though, 20 normal people can't compete with 300 ill-behaved monsters.

I've always said going to Wal-Mart was the best birth control. Because no matter what time of day (or night) it is, there are always families who let their 15 kids run wild all over the store instead of trying to make them act like civilized human beings. And that makes me want to pile on 47 condoms every time I have sex. But the movie theater on a Friday night came pretty close.

In fact, these little asshats from last night have all probably screamed through the aisle of Wal-Mart, knocking shit off the shelves and destroying everything in their paths like mini-tornados.

Which is why, from now on, I am perfectly content to wait for movies to hit DVD. We have a 47" HDTV, comfortable sofas and tickets aren't $9.25 each.

10 Questions for Thursday

1. If everyone in the world had the option to grow a porno moustache, do you think people would laugh a little more often?

2. Will my cat, Miles, hate my guts when he comes home from the vet tomorrow with his new spring haircut? (2a. If so, will he joust my calves with his buck tooth?)

3. How many stores must I scour to find the perfect earrings to complement my new giraffe print dress?

4. Will my feet ever forgive me for wearing those giant, spiky heels last night?

5. Is there anything wrong with a 35-year-old woman wearing Hello Kitty band-aids?

6. Does any better bargain exist than the awesome, long-lasting Smith's Rosebud Salve, which costs $6 at Sephora?

7. Is there ever a circumstance where one should try to wax their own eyebrows?

8. What the hell was that giant flash of light that just blasted through my front window?

9. Why won't Lucy fetch me a Diet Coke instead of her rubber ball?

10. If I meet Tim Gunn and ask him to sign my Tim Gunn bobblehead, will he think I'm a total freakshow fan? Or funny?