Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Steve and Barry's are Coming to Town

Steve and Barry's are moving to the Bay Area! Bow chicka wah wah! If you aren't up on them, they are known for their stock of well made but affordable goodies. They have exclusive rights to the Starburys, the athletic shoe created by famed hooper Stephan Marbury as well as Sarah Jessica Parker's new line, Bitten.

The store's grand opening takes place August 1st, 2007 at NewPark Mall in Newark, CA.

People, I haven't been this excited about an opening since H&M came to town. The only thing that could top this in my opinion would be if Nick at Night throws the Facts of Life back into rotation. Seriously, I have been itching for a life lesson explained under the knowing eye of Edna Garret.

Friday, July 20, 2007

Yawn.. Posh & Becks Move to America- DOES ANYONE REALLY CARE?

I am suffering from insomnia. That is the only justifiable reason I have for staying up until the wee hours of the night watching, "Victoria Beckham Comes to America." Is that your judgement I smell? Guess what wankers? I don't bloody care! I am majorly glad that Simon Fuller had the genius to produce this awesomely bad reality show because it is serving as fodder for my next blog! I am also anxious to expand my vocab of "English-isms."

So the show begins with an expose for the numb-nuts out there that don't know who David Beckham and Posh Spice are. Who are they? Well, David is that white hot white guy that is known for the heat he brings both on and off the soccer field. Victoria "Posh" Spice might be the Spice Girl with the least amount of obvious talent but she managed to bed and wed Beckham, and birthed two of his offspring, all the while maintaining a posh physic sans stretch marks. Sure she has millions to aid her in this effort but what I am trying to convey is that she is definitely talented to have pulled all of this off.

Now that we know who the Beckhams are, we are treated to a hot and steamy photo shoot on the set of W Magazine. Ladies, have your vibrators handy for the reruns cause David is heating up the screen. There is dust, and sweat and low riding hip hugger jeans... okay, now I'm drooling on ma' laptop. Bravo, stop the madness! Madrid has never looked so good. The only thing marring the picture is Posh's bony ass. That bitch hasn't seen a frame she didn't want to be in. So we are forced to watch Posh canoodle with David, and Posh is even kind enough to let us in on a little secret. She knows that the world thinks David's ass is fiine and that her ass is just weird looking and guess what, she doesn't bloody care! So at the end of the shoot, she and David part ways. She manages to shed a tear (those acting classes sure are paying off) before her suv pulls away. It's off to America!

When she arrives she is dropped off at the home that is her and the fam's temporary residence until she finds them a house. The rental is (dare I say), posh. It's fabulous in a very modern way. The only thing i don't get is the montage of dogs on the wall. Who would want a mishmash of dogs they don't even know on their wall? The photos look like leftover stills from a greeting card photo shoot.

The more I watch, the more I wonder if Posh is planning to get involved in politics. Why else would she be motivated to star in this piece of shit reality show? She has more money than one could ever need so what is the reason for this desire to appeal to the masses? Her efforts at likeability are laughable. She comes across as a Jessica Simpson clone, complete with the airhead qualities and the BFF hairdresser and make-up artist.

Posh's first order of business in America is to acquire a personal assistant. She says up front the girl can't be cute or skinnier than she is (as if that were possible- I mean keep it real, if Posh was to lose any more weight she'd only be able to stand up with the aid of an IV). So the assistant arrives and Posh, in the hopes of making a good impression, does something she'll only do once, and never do again- she opens her own front door!

After what has to be the strangest interview I've ever had the priviledge of witnessing, the assistant is hired. One is forced to assume that the assistant got the job based on her looks. She is the equivalent of four Poshe's weight wise (which would make her about my size) and she's sporting a mullet. She definitely failed the Q & A, see the questions below:

Assistant: Am I going to be personally assisting David?
Victoria: No, why do you want to?
Assistant: No, um yes?
Victoria: Why do you find him attractive?
Assistant: Well, he's not bad looking....

Clearly Posh finds the girl's honesty and missing fuckability factor a comfort so the job is hers. The job entails explaining words like intersection to Posh, and arranging for mock earthquake drills.

Another order of business is getting to know the who's who of Hollywood. So Posh has lunch with Perez Hilton. Does anyone else think that Perez is turning into a camera whore? He is seriously high off of the smell of his own pooh. I mean he's everwhere I look these days. He's on the View, he's on the D-List with Kathy Griffith and now he's on Posh's reality show. For the love of all things sacred! He is a blogger, not a celebrity. Posh confronts him about all the mean stuff he says about her and he promises to replace the alien symbol he photoshops over her head with a crown if she agrees to get bigger boobs, smile less, and send him naked photos. Okay he is like the biggest queer so why does he want naked photos of Posh? I am either confused, sleep deprived and imagining things (like Perez enjoying the site of a naked woman) or Posh is really a man. Which is it? Did he really just ask her for naked pics? I am moving on. The best part of this segment was when he asked her who she doesn't like. Spice Girl loyalty kicks in and she doesn't hesitate to let the world know her disdain for Eddie Murphy (hello, he was just named the baby's daddy of her sister Spice's baby). She also doesn't care for those trashy nymphs like Paris Hilton that choose not to wear knickers (people, english-isms kick ass).

Next Posh buys a house. A 17 million dollar house that is. She chooses a house previously owned by Lional Ritchie. He even laid the wood floors. The neighbors are Batman and Spider Man. Posh theorizes that if the neighborhood is cool enough for those super heroes it's good enough for her and the fam.

We get to watch Posh shop, because she doesn't own enough shit and because there aren't starving people in the world. Amongst her purchases are a blow up doll to throw off the papparazzi, a pair of cut off shorts from Kitson, some shoes that don't seem to fit her and just what her hubby needs, another watch. I am so bored already- not only with this show but this blog. I have to end it. So playing some feel good music we learn Posh has accomplished her mission and achieved all that was needed to bring her family to America. The next scene is of her and David arriving in America together. That would be it. Did I really just sit through an hour of this? What a waste.

In conclusion I have learned that Posh has a pretty shallow personality but she's harmless. She enjoys self tanner, kissing on her hot husband, spending frivilous amounts of money and posing while her make-up artist takes pics of her with her camera phone. Hmm... glad I've added this to my memory bank. My mom will be so proud.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Mom or Anthropologist

I am trying to wrap my brain around the recent level of laziness that seems to have enveloped my child. I don't know if it's puberty or summer that has spawned this mutant creature, but I barely recognize him. Instead of my handsome 13 year old I see Jabba the Hut.

Not that he's ever been one to hop up at the crack of dawn, do 100 push ups, followed by a mile long run, all before I've opened my eyes. But lately it seems I can't even convince him to shift positions on our couch. From sun up until sun down, he is immobile. He is moved only by hunger or bladder pressure. I am fully convinced that if he could, he'd have a potty chair and a personal fridge placed next to the couch to make life that much easier. His clothes have been replaced by a blanket that he's converted into a toga. Next to him on the couch are all that he considers essential: cell phone, house phone, remote control, laptop open to his myspace, and video game controller.

As if it's not enough to resemble the Hut, he's encompassed his way of communicating. I can't understand a damn word my mutant child speaks. Every time he opens his mouth I curse the absence of subtitles and look to God for translation. To make matters worse his friends all speak this alien tongue. Since they are the only ones that do, he has taken to having at least one co-inhabitant at all times. They spend their days sitting around my living room in their togas, speaking their foreign language, and chugging away a week's worth of Gatorade in one day. I guess all of that inactivity works up quite a thirst. Meanwhile, I make mental notes to to sign up for a course in Ebonics/Hyphie 101. Does my local community college even offer such a class?

Probably the most irritating of all is the amount of consumption that has become my mutant's daily requirement. He and his breed eat endless amounts of food and my bank account is really feeling the pinch. This breed doesn't do dishes either. Cleaning hasn't been introduced to their species yet. When you suggest to them that they get up and clean their mess they make a weird sound (half grunt/half squeal) and look at you with a very perplexed expression, as if to say, "I can't understand the words that are coming out of your mouth right now." I guess my expectations for a bi-lingual mutant are a little out of reach. Someone please find me that Ebonics course, stat!

I feel like an anthropologist, studying a new tribe. I wonder if National Geographic would be interested in my findings. Do you have a mutant sharing your space? And if so, what did you do to reclaim your child? I seriously hope this isn't it for the next 5 years. No wonder they created college. Without it, the mutant would never leave and the parent would go insane.