Election 2012: A Blast In A Glass

There are about a million other things I should be doing. Sleeping is one of them. Drunkenly yelling at gnats in my kitchen is not. Not that I was doing that...

But nonetheless, here I am. I'm very sad. I don't really feel like accepting the sadness and analyzing where it's coming from, so for now I need a distraction. And what better way is there to distract myself than cherry coke and bourbon, mini heath bars, and writing another fictional debate between the two presidential candidates featuring tired celebrities? NO WAY.

So without further ado, it begins. I apologize and congratulate those of you who don't get a word of this because you have better standards for entertainment that I do:



If you're an American who lives above ground, owns a television and accidentally flips over to cable news networks from time to time, you know that Election Day is fast approaching. President Barack Obama and Governor Mitt Robot Romney had their 3rd and final debate on Monday evening. Or so everybody thought. Turns out there was a fourth debate held this evening in private to give the candidates one last chance to make their case, and answer America's questions. With such short notice, it was a little hard to find a moderator and people to ask questions. As it turns out, MTV handles most of its programming by beating audiences over the head with dead-end reality shows, so they were able to book Dr. Drew as the moderator and the cast of Jersey Shore.

Even though he didn't have much room to talk in between all the inane arguing, as a moderator Dr. Drew I think handled himself and the two opposing sides very well. By the two opposing sides, I mean Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi and Mike "the Situation" Sorrentino. The drawn-out brawl between the two started back in Season 4 while the cast was in Italy. Sitch told the housemates and America that he and Snooki engaged in some vague sexual activity an unknown number of months ago. This set off the former-meatball, who at the time was dating her now fiance Jionni WhoGivesAShitWhatHisLastNameIs, and she of course claimed it was not true. It's not yet been decided by anyone who is telling the truth, and unfortunately, was dragged into this evening's debate after Snooki asked the first question to the candidates about their views on abortion and women's rights.

Snooki: As you both may know, my sexy gorilla-juice-head fiance and I had a baby a couple months ago. Because I am a mom now, I care about feminisms n' sh*t. So, say a guy and a girl smash and she gets preggers but isn't mature enough to handle it as good as me and she wants to get it [air quotes] 'taken care of.'

Pauly D: AWW YEAH ABORTION YEAH.

Snooki: What are your thoughts on this?

President Obama: Well Ms. Polizzi, I've made my thoughts on women's right to choose abundantly clear. To be frank, I think if anything your situation is a case for abortion in itself.

Snooki: Awwww!! Thank you Mr. President, that's so sweet of you to say!

At this point, her fiance Jionni got up to leave. Reporters who caught up to him outside said he didn't say anything, but he was clearly very embarrassed.

Governor Romney: Well, Miss Polizzi, I believe every child conceived is a precious gift from God. It's not our choice, it's his.

This is where the trouble started, as Sorrentino felt the need to chime in.

Situation: That's true, it is a gift. Whether it be a gift from Jionni, or Sitch, or whoever, yaknowwhaddimsayin? Hehehe...

Snooki: [long string of expletives]

Dr. Drew: Michael, are you suggesting that you may be the father of Snooki's child?

Snooki: [more expletives, continues loudly as the two men talk so hardly anyone can understand what's being said.]

Situation: I'm not saying anything, bro. I'm just saying ya know. 

Dr. Drew: Okay, because you realize that would be physically impossible given that the two of you allegedly copulated over 2 years ago?

Situation: It is what it is, Doc. Sitch gets it in, blows up grendades, DTF, fresh to death, ride or die, you feel me?

Governor Romney: YES! I feel you, Mr. Situation. A Romney Presidency is ride or die, fresh to death, all of that, that you just said. The President, I'm afraid, doesn't feel you at a--

President Obama: --If you can tell me what DTF means Governor, I will forfeit the presidency right here right now--

Snooki: -- And that's why nobody likes you Mike!

Dr. Drew: Alright, calm down please. Deena, I believe you had the next question.

As a defeated Snooki takes her seat, Deena Cortese stands up, and falls down because she is still drunk from last night/this morning. Once she gets herself situated, she speaks:

Deena: Mr. President, I have a hypothermical situation for you. If you do sex wit a guy you meet at the club because he says he loves you does that make you a slut? Oh wait, that wasn't my question. *hiccup* Hmm.... Mr. President, I have a pregnancy scare about once a month. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare?

President Obama: First of all Miss Cortese, your underwear is showing. Secondly, no I have not had a pregnancy scare. Because I don't have a uterus. Because I'm a man.

Governor Romney: I have. I have a uterus. I know what it's like, Deena. 

Deena: It doesn't matter. The point is, does Obamacare cover the pill? 

President Obama: *Sigh* Yes.

Deena: Cool. What about, uh, nose-ular reconstruction surgery? My boyfriend's been wanting to try something in bed, and I've just been kinda scared to go through wit it because I just got my nose done-

Dr. Drew: Okay, that's enough. We're moving on. Deena... I think it's time you took a good long look in the mirror and asked yourself, "Is this the young lady I wanted to become?"

After vomiting on Dr. Drew, Deena was asked to leave the premises.

Dr. Drew: Let's move on to a different topic. Anyone?

Sammi: Dr. Drew, I have a question about the environment.

Dr. Drew, shocked [like everyone else], allowed Sammi "Sammi Sweetheart" Giancola to proceed.

Sammi: I also have a hypothetical situation for yous. So like, pretend there's like these two polar bears, one's male and one is female. And like, the ice caps are melting, right? And that's like stressing them out. They need to unwind and go crazy, so they go spend the summer in Miami.

Governor Romney: Wait, why would they --

Sammi: So like, while they're down there, the guy polar bear like goes out every night, gets smashed, and hooks up wit ugly girls and then after the fact comes home to the female bear, who is patiently waiting for him because she's a GOOD F***ING GIRLFRIEND--

Ron: --Oh for the love of God.

Sammi: STAHP IT, I'M NAHT DONE TALKING RAHN. I'M NAHT DONE TALKING. And then he goes and gets in bed wit her and tells her he loves her and then they smush like nothing's wrong. 

Ron: GET THE F*** OVER IT SAM GOD, IT HAPPENED LIKE 4 YEARS AGO, WHY DO YOU STILL CARE.

Sammi: I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU RAHN, I WAS TALKING TO THE CANDIDATES ABOUT GLOBAL WARMING. 

Governor Romney: [to the President] What is "smush?"

President Obama: Ya know, I really don't know.

Ron: [Another long string of expletives, constantly interrupted by Sammi yelling "RAHN" over and over again.]

Sammi: [in tears at this point] You know what? I'm sick right now. I'm done. DONE. Okay? So f*** you, have a nice life. 

Giancola slowly walked towards the exit, took a dramatic pause about half way there to turn around towards Ortiz-Magro and once again say "F*** you, have a nice life," before finally leaving. A sigh of relief was heard about the room.

Dr. Drew: Does anybody actually have a real question they'd like to ask the candidates before time runs out? Vinny, you've been quiet all night. Something on your mind?

Vinny Guadagnino (It's okay, I don't know how to pronounce it either) just sat there and shrugged his shoulders.

Vinny: Honestly, this whole thing is pointless. 

Dr. Drew: Please, explain.

Vinny: It seems like all that's happening is everyone is yelling at each other at the same time. No one can hear any of the arguments, and as a result none of the issues are actually being addressed, and no solutions are being discussed. Listening to people bicker about things when they are all too stubborn to take other points of view into consideration - it gets old, bro. It's just a lot of noise, and honestly Dr. Drew, I can't wait for it to be over so we can all move on with our lives. 

Dr. Drew: That's actually very insightful Vinny. In fact, I think most of the country agrees with you.

Vinny: I know, that's why I hate these reunion shows.

Dr. Drew: Reunion? This... okay. You all were made aware that this is a presidential debate, right?

The cast became confused and angry, and after Snooki started throwing food at Dr. Drew and Jenni "JWoww" Farley attempted to start a fight with the first lady, the candidates made their closing statements:

Governor Romney: Vote for me, because Obama sucks.

President Obama: I may suck, but I don't suck as much as Mitt Romney.

Dear Potential Employers: No I'm Not Really A Hooker

Recently, I was googling myself (don't act like you don't do it all the time), and I found something very disturbing.

After about 20 legitimate links to my different social networking pages, this blog and my youtube channel, was the worst possible thing that could ever be on the internet. EVER.

"Cheap Hooker Employee Search: List of Names & Contact Info" Underneath that: my name, age, hometown, and university. The same information that can be found on LinkedIn. All accurate. Clearly me. WHAT THE WHAT????????????

I panicked. How the HELL did google search make me out to be a "Cheap Hooker?" And cheap? REALLY?? What did all of this mean? Did someone steal my identity? Was I a cheap hooker in another life time?

And then it all came back to me.

The year was 2006, I'd just come back from theatre camp in Kentucky. I was 16 years old. I had been trying to connect with everyone at camp on facebook, but in Owensboro at that time, MySpace was bigger. I didn't have one because I thought MySpace was stupid. (In hindsight, I was right and should've trusted my gut) But, what can I say? I'm a people pleaser. So I made myself one. I didn't want to deal with all the notifications from MySpace as well as Facebook, so I made it under an old Netscape email address that was still active but I hadn't used in years. I know. Netscape. Damnit, we're old.

Now, for those of you who aren't familiar with the myspace format, it has a little section that helps people to further categorize you to accordingly make judgments based on stereotypes or decide if it's worth it to ask you for nude pics. You are to provide your astrological sign, sexual orientation, relationship status, Smoker/Non-Smoker, height, body type (wtf, right?), school, and occupation.

So, at age 16, I was still just as much of a smart ass as I am today. But with less of a filter. Or a strong grasp on actions and consequences. I filled out mostly all the information truthfully. And, thinking I was being hi-LARIOUS, I put "cheap hooker" as my occupation. *headdesk*

PROOF (see, just a typical wholesome teenage girl.)

You know what's really sad? I hardly EVER used that damn thing. I had like 25 friends max. I used it to fill out surveys when I was bored. But FOR SOME STUPID REASON, I apparently felt the need to update it a couple years later, to inform all 25 of my "friends" and the millions of creepy old men looking for cheap hookers on the internet, that I would be attending Belmont University.

That's not even the worst part. You wanna know what the worst part is? Since I never ever used it, I don't remember the password. And because I made it under an old email account that I never used, I don't remember the password to that either. So I can never take it down. It's going to stay there, for all eternity, just waiting for the perfect moment to come back and bite me in the ass.

I HATE MY LIFE.

This would happen to me, ya know? It just would.

To all individuals who ended up here from reading a sample of my writing provided with my resume, a) thank you for reading my other work, b) PLEASE believe me when I say this:

I, ELIZABETH (LIBBY) ANN GENZ, AM NOT, NEVER HAVE BEEN, AND NEVER WILL BE A CHEAP HOOKER. JUST A STUPID 16 YEAR OLD WITH A TASTELESS SENSE OF HUMOR. 

And now please enjoy a song/omen my friend Molly Lewis wrote in 2008 about MySpace coming back to haunt us all in our adult lives:

It would be funnier if it wasn't so true.

Also, if anyone has any idea how to get rid of the connection between me and being a "cheap hooker," please let me know. I'd be happy to hear it.

An Introduction to Working at a Restaurant (By a Slightly-Seasoned Veteran)

Welcome to your first job in the food industry! You sure look dapper in that apron. I know you're probably ready to jump on in and get to work, but first there are some things about this business that you should know. I've been through a couple food industry jobs, so to make this transition easier for you, here are some useful things I picked up on the way:

Everyone thinks everyone is stupid.
I know it's not the most welcoming of atmospheres, but that's the way it is. Night crew and Morning crew think the other is stupid. Same with Cashiers/hostesses and Cooks/Waiters. Individuals think other individuals are stupid. Two best friends could get mad at each other during a rush and call the other stupid. It doesn't matter how long a person has been here, if he or she screws up an order, could be just one in a day, everyone thinks that person is stupid.

You have 30 seconds to make a good first impression.

Sometimes not even that long. Look, if you aren't a hot girl, everyone is going to treat you like you're an idiot for the first couple of weeks. Just power through and hope that your new coworkers have the decency to talk about you behind your back. I had the unique experience of working with a manager (nice guy, for the record) who would tell me how stupid I was, TO MY FACE, almost on an hourly basis. I coped by convincing myself that it was a twisted way of showing affection, and that deep deep down, he thought I was a cool person. 

Glossary of Restaurant Lingo:
Rush:  A time during the day when the restaurant gets the majority of its business; a time of total chaos and mass panic. A friend you thought you had an hour ago becomes a completely different person during a rush. Everyone hates each other. Hurtful things are said out of stress, doors are slammed, food is thrown. I've found as a newbie, it's best to just stay out of the way and make yourself look busy.
"86": a message from cooks or management to employees that have to deal directly with customers, means the store is currently out of a certain item, e.g. "86 Everything Bagels." The proper way to deliver this message is walking to the other person and telling them in an inside voice. It is absolutely not something that should ever be yelled from across the store, because that is beyond tacky. We had a manager at the restaurant I'm at now who, I guess, thought the microphone we use exclusively to call out orders was his own personal way to communicate to the cashiers.
Walk-in Refrigerator: a place where employees go to use their cell phones or gossip about other employees. Oh yeah, and I think they keep food in there.


There's only room for one Crazy Old Man at a time.
Any more will throw off the balance, any less, well that would just be sad. The Crazy Old Man has always been there. He loves to tell stories that leave you wishing you hadn't come in to work at all. When he's talking you hope the story he's telling you is a joke, but you're scared because you know it could easily be the truth. So you wait around to see if ends in a punch line like "and that's how I killed my ex wife," or "Cocaine is a helluva drug." He literally knows how everything works. If the Crazy Old Man ever left, it is certain the restaurant would shut itself down in a matter of weeks. Rules apparently don't apply to him. He's never been a manager, but he thinks he's in charge of everyone. You may see that this causes problems with those who are actually in charge. As a newbie, you should probably just do what he says. Which leads me to:


The socially constructed hierarchy of a restaurant goes like this, from top to bottom:
Owner's Mother
Owner
Owner's Ex-Wife
General Managers
Crazy Old Guy
Store Managers
Assistant Managers
Cooks/People who make the food/Waiters
Cashiers/Hostesses
Everyone else
New people


Misery must be earned.
We all know that this is not the best job in the world, but you can't just walk in and already be complaining about how much you hate it. When I started at the place I'm at now, I worked with this girl who absolutely terrified me. She wouldn't talk and she looked like she wanted to punch everyone in the face all the time. I tried to relate to her by saying things like "This place is so awful, I hate it here! LOL!!" This was NOT OKAY. I had no idea. I did not know her pain. Once I worked there for a little longer, I began to understand where she was coming from. This girl woke up at the ass crack of dawn and spent the first 4 hours of every damn day alone with The Crazy Old Man, forced to listen to him ramble about his thoughts on God, Waffles, Hallucinogens, or whatever the hell went through his head at the time. All things considered, she handled it better than I would have. So no, you are not allowed to truly hate your job until you've actually gone through some struggles. Like the obnoxious regulars who treat you like crap, or when someone calls out "sick" (aka hungover) so you have to do double the work, or when you have to remove a whole slice of bread from a clogged toilet, and so on.


If there is more than one Spanish-speaking person on staff, they absolutely will talk shit on you while you're within ear shot.
And honestly, can you blame them? If I could speak another language with someone at work, I would definitely take full advantage of that. My very first job was a brief stint as a hostess at a PF Chang's-Wanna-Be Restaurant. On my first day, I met Leticia, the oldest hostess, and therefore the self appointed "boss." Also on my first day, I stood next to Leticia at the hostess stand while she and another spanish speaking employee discussed how stupid I was. I know this because she would point at me, do air quotes, speak in a higher pitched mocking tone and then her and the other girl would laugh hysterically. I just remember thinking to myself "That's not really fair because, if I were to call you a bitch to your face, you would know what that means because you're bilingual." Unless you want to learn spanish, it's just one of those things you'll have to learn to accept.


Girls are secretly disgusting. 
Women are beautiful, majestic creatures. Part of our mystique is how effortlessly pleasant we seem. If you are a boy and you've never been around a big group of girls for an extended period of time, your world is about to be crushed. We don't fart sprinkles. We fart real farts. Sometimes we even do it on purpose. And then we laugh about how bad they smell. That's just the tip of the iceberg.


Sexual Harassment Guidelines:
While working in this environment, it's normal for people to become close with one another, physically and mentally. Here's how to make sure you don't go too far:
    -If you are Ugly*: sexual harassment could mean anything past saying, "hi." Too much eye contact, remembering everyone's names, "encouraging" pats on the back. Enough. We know what you're really saying. Pervert.
        *Ugly = fat, completely bald, super sweaty, just overall a disgusting sight.
    -If you are Hot: it's okay. Just don't be too creepy about it.
    -If you are a Homosexual Male: it's okay when it's towards females. Could be hugely flattering to straight girls, who think attention from gay guys means they're fabulous.
    -If the Harasser is Female: it's HILARIOUS. Under every circumstance. Just deal with it. Especially if you are an 18/19-year-old male. You will be eaten alive, all you can really do is learn to love it.


Once you quit, everyone is allowed to exaggerate about how stupid you were. 
Obviously.


Secrets last about 1-5 minutes in a restaurant.
It really depends on how much is going on in the store at the time. If it's a slow day and there's nothing for the employees to do but talk to each other, that secret will already be fully embellished with new twists and angles and retold to everyone in the time it takes for you to walk the length of the building. Some people have a functioning conscience that respects your privacy for about 3 or 4 minutes before they tell everyone. So if you have a secret and you absolutely cannot keep it to yourself, choose who you tell wisely. Or just assume that everyone knows.


Women named "Anne" are very picky about their orders.
When in doubt, yes she wants cheese on her chili, yes she wants more noodles than broth in her chicken noodle soup, and no she doesn't say please or thank you.


When eating at work: If you can't fix your own food, you have no right to put in a complicated order. 
You also have no right to hover next to the people making your food giving them commentary. I don't care about how much your weird-ass boyfriend likes this annoying sandwich, I don't like grilling pulled turkey and I don't like you either.


Learn the art of being fake nice to people.
Not only does it help with unruly customers, but it comes in handy with annoying coworkers as well! Never underestimate the power of a toothy smile and a slightly cocked head. It doesn't matter how angry you are, if you are in that position everything you say will sound nice. Just make sure to continue blinking regularly or else you'll look crazy.


Happiness at the expense of others is the typical way a restaurant staff stays sane. 
Pranks are not mean. Pranks are a totally acceptable way to boost morale. Saran wrapping things is a trustworthy go-to prank. One day, I made these signs for a coworker named "Cullen" and hung them all over the back of the store:

I was so proud of this. I think it ended up being one of those things that only I thought
was funny, and everyone else thought it was really weird. But I don't care.

If you trip and fall or drop something and make a huge mess, don't be offended when your coworkers take pictures of you. I'm not 100% positive, but I'm pretty sure that is the exact reason camera phones were invented. Also, don't be mad when they walk away laughing after getting the picture and don't help you clean up.



I think that's just about everything you need to know for now. You should be able to walk in your first day with your head held high. If all else fails, take a deep breath and remind yourself "this is only temporary."

They Say Love Is In The Air

My current occupation (washing dishes) provides me with plenty of time to become caught up in my thoughts. Which isn't always a good thing. I hope to one day have a career that engages me enough that my humiliating personal life never enters my mind.

So, what revelation was made today as I scrubbed mustard and mayonnaise off of plates? How incredibly single I am. Now, of course this is nothing new. In fact, it's something I've almost gotten used to. The new realization was, for having such an extreme fear of rejection, I've hardly ever put myself out there. Of all the crushes that I've had in my life time, I told only two about my feelings. Just two. The rest figured it out, or assumed. There's nothing quite as magical as getting turned down by a guy you didn't even like in the first place. So why the fear?

The first time was in 5th grade. It was a boy in the classroom next to mine. The girls in my 5th grade class were very boy crazy, whereas the boys' heads hadn't yet developed past "I love my Gameboy more than my mom." There were two boys, only two, in the whole 5th grade at Shenandoah Valley Elementary School that ALL the girls had crushes on. They either liked one or the other, and never anyone else. If your friend was into one, you had to like the other or else the friendship was over. It was the same way with members of boy bands. Thus, you can see where I already had a lot of obstacles. Probably the biggest thing in my way of getting either of these boys, bigger than their lack of sexual maturity, was my high levels of dorkitude.

For starters, I was on the bottom of the Popularity totem pole. Not really sure why. I've always been kind of different, not everyone gets my humor. I also started puberty a lot sooner than most of my classmates, so while most girls had issues like "which butterfly clips go better with this outfit," I had problems like "why the hell is there hair under my armpits" and "I didn't know pimples were supposed to be this big." Looking back it doesn't really bother me, but it killed me back then. I did not understand why people thought I was weird, but I figured they had to be right. So there was nothing I could do about it. Secondly, I was taller than everyone. There was one kid taller than me, Michael Douglas (At least I think that was his name...), who I'm pretty sure came out of the womb at six feet. I was 5'4", and everyone else was under 5 feet. I was tall, I was weird, and I could not possibly blend in if I tried. And blending in at age 11 was all I wanted.

Anyway, I liked Boy 2 in the class next door because my best friend liked Boy 1, who was in our class and rode my bus. Boy 1's desk was across from mine. I remember writing in my diary one day that he rubbed his foot on my pant leg. He had taken his shoes off, and I guess thought that my leg was part of his desk. I thought he was playing "footsie" with me, and it was very scandalous in Libby-Diary-Land. I was going to move to another school district for middle school, so a friend (who must've seen something like this on television or something) convinced me to go for it. "You can't leave never knowing what could have happened..." It sounds like something straight from a late 90's prime-time teen drama. I took her advice. I wish I'd thought it through though. I didn't even wait until the end of the year. I did it right smack dab in the middle of the year, so I still had to see him for another 4 months. It was during Poms rehearsal, I snuck back into the empty classroom and placed a note of the "Check Box Yes or No" variety inside his desk. It was a very high stress moment for me. All of my happiness was riding on how he would respond to that note. I'd never been heart broken before, but I had seen a lot of Disney Princess movies so I knew it couldn't be good. The same friend who suggested I write the note told me the next day that upon finding it, he announced to the class that he "hated my guts."  I was crushed. And it wasn't even a real thing, I only liked him by default. I spent the next four months shouting mean things at him whenever I saw him, and growing more hair in strange places.

The second time, I'm not going to go into detail. Maybe some later day when the shame isn't so fresh. My head still hurts from the amount of facepalm. It was kinda like this. A lot of me yelling at myself afterwards:

Which is why I will never see that guy ever again in my life. It's really a bummer because he was one of the coolest guys I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I wish for once I could just be normal. But that won't ever happen. At this point I think the "fear" of rejection is just an evolutionary instinct set in to protect me from embarrassing myself. As in:

Me: I think I should tell that guy that I like him.
Sub-Conscious Me: No, don't do that. We've tried that. It never goes well.
Me: But, it'll be easy, I'll just be confident and honest.
Sub-Conscious Me: No, that's what you think is going to happen, but you never end up saying what you planned. You always have to improvise and everything goes to shit.
Me: Nah, I got this, me! I am so confident of how awesome this is going to be! I feel so empowered!!
Sub-Conscious Me: Okay, well I'm not watching.

That's okay though. Somewhere out there is a total weirdo, hating life, and wondering when he's going to meet me. Until then, I guess I'll just lower my standards.

Decision 2012

LG: Thank you all for being here today to watch one of many boring debates between President Barack Obama and hopeful Republican candidate, former Governor Mitt Romney. Welcome gentlemen. We all know why you're here, so I don't really need to explain, do I? No. Good. So let's get straight to it.

You both have expressed opposing view points on all of the serious problems polarizing this country: abortion, gay marriage, health care, what we should do to fix the budget, just to name a few. However, there is one issue that has yet to be debated. It's incredibly serious, and has been causing chaos since the mid 1990's. Friendships have been ended, riots have been started, families torn apart. I'm speaking of course about The Great Boy Band Debate: N 'SYNC vs Backstreet Boys. It troubles me that this issue has not been discussed at all, not just during this election process, but all the way back to when Clinton was in office. No more. Your country needs answers. 

Mr. Romney, we'll start with you. What is your position?

MR: I was really hoping to use this time to discuss my plans to solve the budget crisi-

LG: Irrelevant.

MR: It's actually incredibly relevant-

LG: Not to me and other girls in my age bracket. Look, Mitty. You lost a lot of love from us 18-24 year olds with that whole "I totes disagree with that amendment saying that religious institutions providing healthcare should be exempt from covering contraception.... Oh wait, JK. I agree 100%. I just misunderstood the question. Woopsie!" You wanna get us girls on your side? Discuss the things that matter to us! Now, once more. BSB or N 'Sync, which do you prefer?

MR: Oh, alright. I consider myself an originalist. Backstreet Boys started in 1993, two whole years before N 'Sync followed suit. I'm on team Backstreet Boys, because they were the first boy band of the 90's. Ya know, besides all the other ones before them.

LG: Okay, Mr. Romney. I have here a statement you made in 2002 on your blog. I quote "I heart N 'Sync!!! JT and Mitt BFF 4 EVER!!!" 

MR: I, uh, I don't recall ever saying that. 

LG: Sir, I have evidence that you did in my hands right now.

MR: I've changed my mind.

LG: Right... Let's move on.

MG: Yes, let's.

LG: Mr. President?

BO: Originality is good. It sets a standard for all that follows. What my opponent fails to see is that it also paves the way for improvement. In 1998, America was introduced to a new quintet of teen boys. A better quintet. Team N 'Sync. 

MR: The President seems to be uninformed on the topic. It's an issue that can be easily decided if you take a look at the numbers. BSB sold over 100 million albums while N 'Sync barely sold half that amount. And if so many records were sold, there must be a reason. Just as there is a reason there have been 18 Republican presidents and only 13 Democrats [smug chuckle].

BO: Well, Mr. Romney, what makes a good band, or a good president, is not about quantity. It's about quality. 

LG: Very good insights. I want to delve deeper into this debate and nail out some specifics within the topic. What makes a good boy band? I'll be using this list of 6 criterion for the two of you to make your decisions:

1. Hotties
2. Awesome Music Videos
3. Killer Dance Moves
4. Good Hair
5. Interesting Personal Lives
6. Legacy

Okay first area is Hotties. Let's have a look:

MR & BO: Tie.

LG: Okay, easy agreement. Round 1 = TIE

Moving on, Round 2: Awesome Music Videos. 

MR: Oh we so win this one. The video for "I Want It That way" boasts over 46 million views on YouTube.

They're in an airport, first of all. So relatable. You see them getting on a private jet. Or hanging around a private jet. I don't think they actually ever get on it. As far as costumes, they go from awesome to excellent. First they hit us with coordinating blazer/trenchcoats and then they wow us with matching white outfits. And those special effects! Are they there? Are they not? How are people walking through them? Did that line of carts hurt Howie when it ran over him? I don't know, it's like magic! And, it may just be me, but when Brian sings, it feels like he's touching my soul. I tell ya what, if I wasn't so strongly anti-homosexuality, Brian and I would have some good times.

LG: Excellent...points... Mr. Romney... Mr. President, what would you like to add?

BO: Mr. Romney, I see your 5 brooding guys walking around an airport, and I raise you 5 Dancing Action Figures:

It may not have nearly as many views. But, come on. It kicks ASS!!!

LG: Round 2 = N 'SYNC

Round 3: Killer Dance Moves. This one's no contest at all really, but go ahead, Mr. Romney. Give it your best shot.

MR: I'm gonna give an answer to address two things - The video for "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)":

A) N 'SYNC is not the only one with a totally kick ass video. B) BSB doesn't need any frilly dance moves, they're hot on their own.

 BO: I would make an argument, but I don't need to. The iconic video for "Bye Bye Bye" speaks for itself.

Now, tell me everyone in AMERICA doesn't know this dance? TELL ME.

LG: N 'SYNC WINS ROUND 3 BY DEFAULT.

Round 4: Good Hair. Mr. Romney?

MR: Ha. Easy. Ladies & Gentlemen, Nick Carter:

Compare that perfection to this:

Case closed.

BO: Yeah, I can't even argue with that. Somebody should've told that boy.

LG: Round 4 = BSB. 

Round 5: Interesting Personal Lives. GO!

BO: I'm going to speak first on this one. Everybody remember Justin & Britney? Of course you do. It was the single best meaningless relationship between two teen-pop-sensations to ever happen. America was devastated when they broke up.

MR: With all due respect, Mr. President, I don't think that qualifies as interesting. You know what people find interesting about relationships? Scandal!!

BO: Justin popped Brit's cherry. Boom.

MR: Nick dated Paris Hilton.

BO:  Didn't he beat her up? That kind of scandal is never okay, I know that much. You know what else isn't okay? AJ going to rehab 3 times. 

MR: Lance Bass ended up to be gay! Which, may not be much of a scandal, but it is severely frowned upon in most stuffy conservative circles!!

BO: That wasn't a surprise to anyone. And you know what? His fans welcomed it. 

MR: Brian, had a hole in his heart. He had to have surgery. That's interesting. Gives the boys a little added emotional appeal. Think of all the 13 year old girls who prayed for him every night.

BO: Yes, that was too bad indeed. Perhaps if Obamacare had been around back then, it wouldn't have been an issue.

LG: Round 5 = OBAMACARE!!!

Round 6: Legacy

MR: I would like to once again point out the concrete facts, and say that Backstreet Boys is still a band. They have been a band for almost 20 years, not counting the brief hiatus, and there are only four of them now, but they still live on. Their legacy is all that followed them: One Direction, O'Town, LFO, and even N' SYNC. They are the greatest. What became of N 'SYNC? One's an international super star blahblahblah, one is a host on MTV's America's Best Dance Crew, one is gay, and nobody cares about the other two.

BO: I would have to say JT is what makes N 'SYNC the best. He's the most talented musician to come from a boy band since Michael Jackson. And so what if the Backstreet Boys are still together making music? Just because they are doesn't mean they should be. N 'SYNC left the musical world at a high, and a high is where they will stay forever. Backstreet Boys are driving the band into the ground. It's like watching a failed marriage slowly unravel: the parents are staying together for the kids, only the kids are old enough to see that their parents shouldn't be together, but the couple is still trying anyway. Every day that passes in this family is just awkward and painful. Sure,there's that one hopeful child who still believes everything will work out for the best, but deep deep down they know it won't. The children know it's time for their parents to let go and just accept that it's over. That's what BSB needs to do. Accept that its over. To end on a positive note I would just like to say one more thing: Justin Timberlake. That is all.

LG: Round 6 = JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE

So in conclusion, it looks like overall there were 2 wins for N 'SYNC, 1 win for BSB, 1 win for Obamacare, 1 win for JT (which I think makes 3 wins for N 'SYNC), and 1 tie. So the final score for this debate is N 'SYNC - 3, BSB - 1. Special thanks to President Obama and Mitt Romney for participating in the debate. 

America, remember that whether it's N 'SYNC or BSB, the choice is yours. What matters most is that you voice your opinion and stick up for what you believe in. 

I can't believe I stayed up until 3am writing this weird crap. I'm going to bed now, good night.

"Adulthood"

These past two weeks have been filled with a lot of major life changes: graduated from college, moved into a Big Girl apartment (with a male roommate, who probably doesn't appreciate it being called a "Big Girl" apartment), acquired some stand-in furniture - most of which belongs to my roommate, paid my first rent check, and also for the first time ever I am now a full time employee at the over-priced restaurant I've worked at since October. I'm ready for things to settle down.

A grown-up-type friend explained to me that in the 10 months after graduating college, I will become an adult. I'm pretty sure that's what he said. There's a chance I may have taken what he said out of context, and I'm missing the point completely. I don't know. This is all I took away from the conversation: I have 10 months to reach adulthood.

So what does this mean? What makes a person an adult? How come I'm not adult now? How does one become an adult in 10 months time? Do I have to physically do anything to be an adult, or will it all just happen to me? Why 10 months? What's wrong with a whole year? Do those two extra months really hurt the process that much? Did he go on to explain? Of course not. Thus, I'm left to my own devices to make sense of this cryptic message that probably wasn't as significant as I took it to be after chugging two glasses of wine.

I think it's a decent goal though, so I'm gonna run with it.

By March 5th, 2013, I will have accomplished the following (or tried my hardest):

• Get a real job
• No longer make sandwiches to earn a living
• Work at a place I don't hate with a fiery passion
• I realize those are all related, but that's how badly I need a new job. It's worth 3 separate bullet points.
• Not be unsure of how I'm going to pull off paying rent by the end of the month (Magic? Stripping? We'll see...)
• Be in the habit of waking up before 8am
• Also be in the habit of working out regularly
• Be proficient in the kitchen (or at least be able to properly feed myself)
• Not get sad and binge eat chocolates and cheetos
• Keep my room/apartment tidy and organized
• Always replace the toilet paper when I run out instead of forgetting for the next 2 or 3 urinations and having to do that awkward ass-wiggle thing
• Do laundry regularly so I don't run out of clothing options at the end of the month
• Successfully maintain responsibility for something other than myself (e.g. - a dog, or a plant or something)
• Realize that a dog and a plant are not comparable, and how unsettling it is that I so easily lumped the two together
• Be in a healthy and fulfilling romantic relationship
• If not the previous, then at least be very much involved in some sort of hobby to avoid being pathetic/fat/alone
• Get my oil changed every 3,000 miles, and always have money set aside to pay for it
• Have actual furniture: 
• a real couch so my roommate and I don't have to share a love seat to watch television (not like we'd EVER resort to that anyway.)
• an actual dining room table with chairs
• a fancy & comfortable chair by a window so I can sit and read books that I will actually read
• if "books" ends up only meaning "magazines," I suppose I can be flexible
• Have a decent amount of money saved up, geared towards my "future"
• Figure out what the hell I want for my "future"

I think for the most part, all of that is attainable. The ones I really don't have control over are "Get a job" and "Get a boyfriend," but the rest I can do.  I think. I'll do monthly summaries of the progress I've made or haven't made. If in 10 months I've made something of myself, I will be thoroughly impressed and throw a big party in celebration of reaching adulthood. However, if I fail to make anything of myself... well, I'll blame the grown-up friend. 

Here are some [mundane] pictures of my pretty apartment (the completed parts, excluding my roommate's bedroom because that would be weird) for your viewing pleasure:

My pretty baffroom :) 

Kitchen

A bad attempt at capturing the view from our living room window

Va-what?

PG-13

Recently for my internship I interviewed owners of a waxing salon here in Nashville. I was looking at their website to see what kind of services they offer. They have the ordinary stuff: eyebrows, legs, chin, etc. Totally normal. Until I got to the "Bikini" section. For just $90 you can treat your cooter to a "Designer Brazilian," which, as they put it, cleans up "From here to there!" Now, this was no surprise, as I knew what a brazilian wax was. Where it got weird was the line after, which reads, "Designs available upon request," which would have been puzzling on it's own, but there's more: "or a Vajazzle to add some bling bling!"

First: Designs? Apparently this is a trend. People, women in particular, will have their pubic hair shaved/waxed/whatever into a shape, like a heart, or an arrow, or a smiley face. My first thought is why? WHY would someone want to make their pubic hair look like anything but pubic hair? Who was THAT DAMN BORED one day that they decided to shave their love rug into a heart shape? Who has that much time on their hands? I wonder what kind of things people come up with. The canvas itself is relatively small, so these women have to be creative. Maybe a monogram? Some preppy girl who loves monograms could have her letters daintily chopped in so every time she wipes she's reminded of her initials (or, ya know, whatever other purpose monograms serve. I never really understood them). Maybe girls can start having their names down there to give their one night stands a better shot of remembering. I know for men generally one-night-stands are easy to forget, but you're definitely going to remember the freak who had her named shaved into her pubic hair, amiright? And just how elaborate do these designs get? I want to go into one of these salons and ask them to make it look like Van Gogh's Starry Night just to see if they would do it.

Second: What the HELL is a "Vajazzle??" Lucky for you, I did the research and can now inform you about all things Vajazzle. Warning: You can't un-know this. Sorry.

According to the Vajazzle website, Vajazzling is "the act of applying glitter and jewels to a woman's nether regions for aesthetic purposes." No I am not joking and yes this is totally serious. The rhinestones are glued to your ya-ya and the ladies of the waxing salon tell me they last about 5 days and are not uncomfortable at all. Now, if you have a brain, around this point you are thinking to yourself one of two things: "How could this possibly become popular?" and "Who in their right mind would pay $90 to have this done to them?" Here's your answer:

J-Love. Really betch? Let's look beyond the fact that her poor momma probably bawled her eyes out after she saw this interview for having raised such a tacky daughter. We'll even look past the fact that she's talking about her naughty bits with George Lopez of all people. She experienced a bad break up, like we all do from time to time. What's bizarre is that the best thing she could come up with to get over it was, "You know what would make me feel better? A sparkly vagina!"

I'm not trying to hate on my sex or anything, and I know the human body is beautiful blah blah blah, but the privates are the ugliest parts!! The phrase is "bumping uglies" for a reason, okay? No amount of glued on crystals are going to change that, even if they are Swarovski. Although it is fun to think of all the possibilities. You could get the date of the last time you were tested so all your [unfortunate] partners can feel a little bit better about the encounter. On that same subject, you could break the bad news to them in a fun way, "I have gonorrhea :("  Or you could be mean and spell out "This used to be a penis" to mess with them. I wonder where vajazzle artists draw the line. Is there a line? You're already gluing rhinestones to the "nether region," how can there be any limitations on that?

Maybe one day ad agencies can pick up Vajazzling as a form of non-traditional advertising. Girls could be paid to get crystallized Red Bull cans or slogans like "Have it Your Way" fashioned onto their in-pants billboards. Imagine the money you could make rocking "T-I-C-K-E-T 1" or "877 CASH NOW" on your kaslopis.

In conclusion, euphemisms for external reproductive parts are really fun, and I should be in advertising.