So I never got all the Venus hype. I guess I don’t take the time to enjoy the act of shaving my legs. I would shave with the edge of a rusty knife if it was fast and got the job done. And then there was my activist phase in college when I went a year without shaving (once it gets really long, girl leg hair is actually super soft.) Anyway, I used my sister’s Venus once when I took a shower at her apartment and it was no big deal.
Which is why I say spend the same amount of money that you do on one razor for a whole bag of Bic Comfort Twins instead. Yeah, there are other disposable razors out there that might even be cheaper than that, but Bic Twin’s are the only ones that don’t look like your grandma’s house (I mean, you’ve got to be kidding me with those awful pink ones that are either from the 1970’s or made from the same plastic as hospital vomit catchers.) Plus, instead of having like 9 blades on there and being way to bulky to shave the delicate angles of your…nether regions…the Bics have a sleeker head that can really get in the nooks and cranies (hey, if you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen.) Then, when the razorhead gets invariably clogged up with pubic hair and soap, just throw the sucker away and replace it with a new one from your bag o’ 8. There’s nothing worse than slicing open your finger trying to clean pubes out of your Venus.
79 Stars. This review is disgustingly erotic.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Breakthrough: I only watch television shows that have a hot guy. Murph and I were discussing it this morning and I tried to defend myself, tried to come up with an example to disprove the theory (America’s Next Top Model? Nigel Barker…dammit) but to no avail. I had no idea I was this shallow.
That brings me to Friday Night Lights, which probably has one of the hottest guys on primetime TV. (Taylor Kitsch, far left.) But even so, I’ve watched all the other scenes that he’s not in and it’s still good. I didn't watch it while it was actually on last fall because typically I'm not interested in anything involving high school football (probably leftover high school nerd hostilities) but I have to say after watching the complete first season that I’ve gotten hooked. The show isn’t just about football; the story lines aren’t all necessarily connected to football (although they did do a steroids story that you could see coming a mile away—which is probably just a rite of passage for any high school sports drama.) Some of the most touching story lines are the smallest dramas--former playboy running back leaving the kegger to bring a leftover cupcake to his homebody new girlfriend, or the way one character pretends to be his grandfather singing Bing Crosby songs to get his Alzheimer afflicted grandma out of the closet.
And the hot guy is a former Abercrombie & Fitch model.
There are no big names in the cast, besides maybe Kyle Chandler who was made famous as the bomb guy on Grey’s Anatomy, but the actors are absolutely pitch perfect in their roles. I think a lot of the success of the workings of the show are due to the camera style, which is kind of faux documentary (think Bourne Identity) and the amazing small-town details that really sucker-punch someone like me.
[Wait, I just thought of one. Kid Nation! Except….Greg? No, that’s just sick.]
Often the moving story lines are broken up with “out the window” footage of the sleepy little town--the Dairy Queen and bowling alley, an empty parking lot and the farm supply store with an old fashioned roadside sign reading “Go Panthers.” It’s classic small town, what you would see driving around out there in these places time has forgot, with no one on the street (no one walks anywhere in small towns) and weeds growing up through the sidewalks. This is it, the meat at the heart of this series, and ultimately, what I think makes it worth it.
And the hot guy.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I missed this summer's biggest blockbuster because the Cosmos hates me. It never came to the theater in my town (or, village) and I subsequently never had the time to drive 30 minutes to the nearest theater one town (village) over to see it. Then there was that trip I took to Maine. We decided to take the ferry into Portland to watch it. Only we didn't look up the playing times, so we were 2 hours early. It was really hot and we didn't want to walk around, so we just went home.
In order to combat all this Hated by the Universe nonsense, I rushed out to get it the minute a Wal-Mart employee put it on a shelf. Only I didn't realize Halo 700 came out the same night. Wal-Mart was swarming with clichés. Zitty kids in over-sized sweatshirts and baggy jeans buying cases of Mountain Dew and Doritos. I had to stand in line for over half an hour as the lady checked every kid’s ID. I don't know if you have to be 18 for Halo, but apparently you do for Knocked Up. Trust me, Cashier I Used To Go To High School With Also Known As Amy, I am well over 18 just like you.
85 stars. I don't know whether to subtract stars or add stars for the deceptive packaging. I couldn't find any widescreen editions other than the ones wrapped with Accepted, so I got both for the unbelievable rolled back price of $19.94.
Friday, September 21, 2007
I don't glow, I don't glisten, I don't do whatever pretty word you want to attach to a woman. I sweat. It is the middle of summer; it is the middle of winter: there is wetness under my arms. I have tried several different deodorants over the years from Teen Spirit to Adidas (come on, get serious, you guys make athletic equipment). That's why I was so excited for Secret's clinical strength formula. You think talking to your doctor about problems with backne is weird, try mustering up the courage to talk about the gallons of liquid that seep from your pores on a daily basis. That sentence was sick to write, I can't imagine what it is like to read. Secret Clinical was one of the biggest let-downs of my life, right up there with realizing I am the only one of my friends not to have found a career, a long-term relationship, or a house. Maybe it's because I can't seem to get my hygiene under control.
5 stars: I guess it is time to rethink botox.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Today was the best day I have ever had at the gym because for the first time I watched “Rock of Love with Bret Michaels.” Here’s the thing: Gym-tv is somehow better than normal-tv, and everyone knows how much I love normal-tv. You get to watch stuff you would normally never watch and you don’t have to feel guilty for watching it because you’re improving your general health and well being at the same time.
If I hadn’t flipped to this crazy love competition on VH-1 today I probably would never have watched it on normal-tv and, as such, I never would have heard the best quote I’ve ever heard on a reality show: “Karma’s a bitch. So are you.”
I almost laughed out loud in the middle of my fourteen-minute Level 0 elliptical hill (more than that is really, really tiring!) Man, it was awesome. I even looked around to see if anyone else was watching on their little gym-tv’s, but no one was. One girl on a stationary bike was watching the movie JFK. I happened to look over at her gym-tv just at the part where someone is sticking their latex-ed finger in a bullet hole and rooting around. Gross.
65 Stars. (Rock of Love? 92 Stars. Pick Heather, Bret! She got your name tattooed on her neck! It’s so real. Real love. So, so real.)
I probably shouldn’t even be reviewing this because I told numerous people I wasn't going to spend any money on extraneous purchases after the Macy's bill debacle of July. And it wasn’t even like the saleswoman was that persuasive; she kind of stuttered when she told me it looked beautiful against my skin. But I had seen the lipstick on a bunch of professionally pretty models in Nylon magazine and wanted it ever since. That’s saying a lot for me; I usually hate lipstick.
The thing about the Shiseido is that it feels more like a sheer gloss--really lightweight. I don’t care what the salesgirl forcedly said, because I kind of do think that it made my lips look pretty, or at least prettier than they looked without it. (“Beauty, right? That’s what American woman want. Ha ha ha,” she said.) Yeah, it’s shimmery, but not glittery. There’s a difference. I mean, look at this (and “this” would be a link if only I wasn’t too lazy to scan the pages of those gorgeous aforementioned Nylon models.) The case is so non-grandma-like it almost makes it worth it completely by itself. The case is something you want in your bag. It says “This is Shiseido, bitch.”
72 Stars. Or, “This is [insert your name here], bitch.” But this time you're really back. This time, you've got it going on.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
As a former resident of the scuzzy city, I can’t wait for the return of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia to FX tomorrow night. Try to find anything more depraved and immoral on television and you will fail, considering that I’ve heard the first episode this season involves a dumpster baby. And spray-tanning that dumpster baby.
The anticipation? 2 stars. The show? 100.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Get the hint, dude, I don’t want to talk. Thanks for asking me if I’m going to work right now; it’s obviously 4pm and you picked me up from the movie theater. And I’m really glad that you think it would be a great opportunity for me to submit my novel to an online writing group for critique, such as the one you yourself are a part of, but I think I’ve got this covered. If you want to keep the radio on “93.9 rock and R&B hits for this generation” (do you have some kind of promotion deal?) go ahead, you’re still getting your tip in quarters. That’s right. You can’t trick me into giving you a bigger tip just because you claim the only change you have is 7 dollars in ones. Next time, less talkie talkie, more drivey drivey.
Monday, September 3, 2007
As a kid, Labor Day meant getting dragged along with my family to Argyle State Park, where my dad looked at junk for sale (oh, I mean, antiques) and all the old dudes in Osh Kosh B’Gosh overalls lined up their gas engines restored from the old days and laughed when little kids walked by crying (me) because of the noise.
Since then it’s been a whole lot of “ugh, I hate Mondays so much I’d rather just be at school/work suffering through it.” Some years there are barbeque's where people eat hamburgers that might or might not have mad cow. Sometimes I just watch TV. In Illinois, people come together and sell a bunch of junk, and everyone else drives around looking at it. There aren’t even fireworks.