So bad it's good.....the magic of real-crapity TV!

After a whole season of OC Housewives and a three-part reunion, I must admit it was all worth it.  I can’t possibly capture a whole season in one post, but as always they saved the best for last which made all hours I devoted to this show so very worth it:

Andy Cohen’s saddle shoes.  Just when I thought he couldn’t get any better. 

Brianna verbally kicking the crap out of Brooks.  She annihilated him with words and left him blubbering and stumbling and tripping over his words.  Creeper.  Freaker.  I’m 100% Team Brianna on this one.  Finally someone calling him out on two years of what everyone else wanted to say.  I can't bring myself to go into gross detail. Favorite line – “he’s the only ‘ick’ in my life!”. 

And then Vicky and Brooks break up in the lamest way.  On national TV.  He loves her enough to let her go.  Huh? What?  Maybe if he loved her he wouldn’t treat her daughter like crap and lie and disrespect her family.  Can we roll Michael out to chime in on this?  Where did he go?  Does anyone want to take bets on the return of Don?

Brooks who?  We heart booze!

And PS – if the love of my life dumped me on a couch….while being filmed….in front of all of my friends….for a reality show reunion….I’d probably melt into a pool of my own tears and then crawl off stage to die.  I mean I know we’re watching a reality show here, but I’m starting to think some of this stuff is staged….

Love that Tamra can’t get far enough away from Brooks on the couch and looks so uncomfortably horrified.  She needs the holy water from her bachelorette party that Heather was spraying on the strippers in Cabo.

Andy calling Gretchen out on not being able to pronounce “something”.  In Planet Gretchen it’s pronounced “sunting”. 

Lydia explaining that the reason she doesn’t do her own laundry is not because she doesn’t know how, but because she doesn’t have to.  Bravo!  (no pun intended)  There are many days when I wish I had someone else to do my laundry.  But then I realize I would skeeve having a stranger touch my stuff.  Or possibly even having someone I do know touch my stuff.  Except my mom.  Just being honest.

Alexis claims poor editing made her hubby look like a d. bag.  I'm sure he's really quite funny and supportive when no one is looking.  And not name-dropping or bragging about the price of his scarf.  Or perhaps it was your bully-inspired Xanax scrip that makes him seem less d. baggy.  I get it.  The world is a much happier place when Xanax is involved.

Andy’s facial expressions throughout the entire show.  I cannot get enough of him.  He’s such a riot.  And unrelated to RH, but Gaga is going to be on WWHL in a few weeks.  So ahh-may-zing!!

Lydia's final thought is she feels like she's been punched in the head.  And that's a wrap.

And then there’s this…..

City Girl Diaries continues to be the best-worst show on TV right now.  If that term is confusing you it’s easy….it’s the worst show I’ve watched in a long time and I can’t stop watching it which makes it the best.

How do you know it’s the worst?  Style moved their airtime from Sunday at 9 p.m. to Sunday at 12 midnight.  One small push into cancellation if you ask me.  Or perhaps they are targeting a west coast crowd?  Or perhaps it’s just good-bad.  And here’s why:

Aspiring fashion designer, Leila can’t seem to get it together. She’s just like a lot A.D.D.  So when she thinks she *might* be pregnant everything goes to hell.  She just can’t concentrate because she’s like so stressed over her maybe being preggers.  You know a good way to find out?  TAKE A TEST!  But she’d rather not and just confide in a few strategic people like her live-in BF and one of her besties (with the two moms…yeah, that happened too) and oh, the PR guy managing her maybe-career.  The PR guy that she essentially had to beg to take her back after he canned her ass years ago because she was essentially an entitled brat. Let’s see…he already thinks you’re an unfocused, unreliable, possible waste of time.  So why not miss your first deadline with him and cry and tell him you *might* be pregnant? 

Again.  Take the test.  It’s kind of easy.  Just ask Clear Blue.  Just saying.  You might want to at least rack up a false positive before you start telling people you’re worried you’re preggers.

And one last thing – if you can’t come to terms with taking the test after four weeks of waiting there’s probably some other issues you need to deal with.  Meet my friend Dee Nyle.

In the most brilliant reality show cameo that I’ve seen in a long time, the girls have a Hamptons trip and stay at the house of none other than Devorah Rose of Social Life Magazine.  If you don’t know who she is:

1. Shame on you
2. Real Housewives of NY – Season 1.  She put Bethenny on the cover and whined her way through an episode.
3. NYC Prep – she crept all over PC when he was all of 18 and she needed TV time.  Is it
   
   just me or is needing to hang out with a high schooler when you’re in your 30s in an effort to social climb just total nonsense?
4. High Society - that little train wreck known as the crappy Tinsley Mortimer reality show
5. Fashionista Diaries - Another Style network stroke of genius that needs to come back.  It's so 2007 but still....so great.

Her screen time was short, but nice to see she’s still in circulation.

Then there’s Leigh, the PR chick with ‘tude who lives in Brooklyn with her baby and her Baby Daddy and his extremely scary dog.  They have a tiny apartment and fight all the time but B. Daddy decides a house in Jersey where the dog can run free and they don’t have to look at each other 24/7 will solve all their problems.  Sure.  Might as well crank out another kid while you’re at it.

So (shocker!) they find a house in New Jersey and (shocker Part II) Leigh loves/hates it.  (You can see why she’s on the best/worst show now, right?)  B. Daddy is all in.  Leigh is skeptical.  It’s a long commute from Jersey to NYC for drinks with the girls.  But c’mon Leigh.  Don’t you see what opportunity might come a’knockin?  You are one backyard wedding away from being eligible for Real Houswives of NJ.  In case you haven’t heard, there might be a vacancy soon since a certain someone-someone might be heading to the big house.  And newsflash.  Jersey Housewives are also on Sunday night.  At 9 p.m.  On Bravo.  Upgrade!

Back in the Hamptons, Possibly Pregger’s bestie gets drunk and tells the rest of the girls that Leila is four weeks late.  Gasp!  What?  None of them can believe.  But then they get over it and get hammered and two of them get nearly naked and jump into the pool together.  Oh, good lord!  It’s not the Real World Hawaii.  You’re in your late 30s for crissakes.  Stop it.

The next night Possibly Preggers shows up at the Hamptons party and promptly knocks back some champagne while the other women awkwardly look on until one of them slurs “you’re pregnant, right?”.  Yeah, not so much.  She puts on a good front of being super bummed about it but in the next confessional she admits she’s totes relieved and maybe if she like got married she’d be more open to being knocked up.  Her live in BF seems more interested in having a kid.  One look at this meathead and he also looks like the kind of guy who might not understand how to use Velcro, but I don’t want judge.

My brain needs a desperate dose of something good.  Time to catch up on Pretty Little Liars…..

  

Fab Five Friday - Wine & Vanderpumping the Blizzard

Any time there’s some big weather event I feel like meteorologists have their day in the spotlight.  Blizzards are the Super bowls of weather.  It’s Oscar night. It’s a Red Carpet walk over and over for Sam Champion and Bill Evans and Lee Goldberg.  This is their time.

And for days now all I’ve been hearing was about how at 2 a.m. this snow was coming to NYC and the disaster was on.  It’s 8:00 p.m. and there’s finally something sticking out there.  But up until now it’s been a rainy, snowy, annoyingly windy mix of blah!  I realize people are getting is crazy worse that me (good luck peeps!) and I’m not longing for 3 feet of snow or any such nonsense. 

But so far, NYC is a lot of hype.  A few more fire trucks than usual blazing by.  Less people on the street than usual (Win!  Win!). And I’m certainly getting my money’s worth on those new winter boots dammit!  Normal workday.  A crazy busy one at that.  By the time I got to the pizza lunch there was no pizza.  And then I got to go home and braved “the conditions”. 

So here’s the what. 

The most annoying part of the trek home was that a snowy/rainy mix makes for slippery and slushy sidewalks.  Which means I can’t walk down the street at the aggressively, obnoxiously fast pace that I’ve become accustomed to.  A pace that only gets worse when Green Day is blasting through my ears like it was on the 42^nd Street part of my trip.  And taxis and buses spray slushy, dirty mix all over the place when they drive by.

The most impressive part?  Cutting through Grand Central at 5:45 on a Friday without pushing and shoving my way through. I wish people bailed early every cold night.  Because this part of the trip kind of rocked.

And now I’m home for the count. Waiting for to the storm to come and looking for Five Fab things to do to survive a blizzard with the weakest name EVER!  (Who picks the names b-t-w?  A storm warning across multiple states kind of implies this bad boy in not something to be reckoned with.  But Nemo?  Really? I haven’t even seen that movie but I know it’s a cartoon fish.  What’s wrong with Zeus?  Or Bernardo like in West Side Story.  You didn’t want to mess with him.  Or Brutus?  Et to Brute?  I mean *that* works, no?

I need to rule the world.  Until then, I need to survive the blizzard and here’s my recommendation on how to make that happen:

#1 - Drink:

This kind of goes without saying.  Drinking is always a good idea.  (This makes it sound like I have a severe problem. I don’t. I just like to have fun.  Despite a “booze bag” moniker many years ago by a girl who kind of totally hated me.  Ah, frak it.  I like to drink.)

I am admittedly far less wild than I was in my misspent youth…aka my twenties.  Now it’s far more about quality than quantity.  But I still like my drinks and can still close down a bar.  When I want to.  But on a night like this all I wanted to do was come home and relax.

I did a drive-by of Duane Reade on the way home and while I stood on line with my carton of milk the girl on line next to me bought four packs of cigarettes.  In another time and place I could be that girl. But now I’m older and wiser.  And I'm smart enough to already have wine and vodka at home to sink a ship so I don’t need to head out into a blizzard to buy some.  

I’m already happily into the first bottle.  And good God have I needed this drink since about 10 a.m. Monday morning.  Bottoms up!  The only problem.  I also kind of want to take Advil PM for amazing, uninterrupted sleep.  My life is filled with these kind of Sophie's Choice moments.

#2 - Read.  In bed.  In the middle of the day.

When everyone from the meteorologists to the Mayor to my mother are telling me to stay safe and stay inside, I’m all over it.  I don’t carry much guilt about being self-indulgent. I work hard. I deserve it.  End of story.  But when people also tell me to be all indoorsy...well, okay!  Twist my arm.

One of my favorite indulgences is to get back into comfies and back into bed in the middle of the day to read a book.  And what better time to do this than when the weather outside if frightful?  Midday bed reading eventually leads to a nap because I’m human and I love to sleep and why the hell not? Isn’t that what blizzardy days are made for?  Me thinks so.

And right now I’m reading Jen Lancaster’s latest  - "Here I Go Again".  It’s another foray into fiction for her and askig the burning question, “Will karma catch up with that mean girl bitch from high school that made everyone’s life hell?”  Leave it to Jen Lancaster to craft a hysterical book full of snark, endless 80s references (like the Whitesnake song for a title) and a whole bunch of "I-can’t-believe-she-said-thats" and a whole bunch of "I-totally-relate-to-thats". 

I’m only a few chapters in, but hands down recommend it to anyone who is looking for something great to read.  And for anyone who appreciates great humor. 

#3 - Hate Watch Vanderpump Rules:

I wish I could say I was strong enough to resist Bravo’s latest and greatest in the world of reality TV. But I can’t. I am weak.  Powerless to all that Andy Cohen puts in front of me. 

And if you’ve been living under a rock or just have better things going on, then allow me to give you the premise – Lisa Vanderpump of RHOBH fame (British, witty, snarky, wears a lot of pink, always turns a funny phrase, says "bloody" a lot and can be delightfully filter-free) owns two bars/restaurants in Beverly Hills and this show follows the salacious and ridiculous lives of the staff at one of them - SUR.  It’s kind of like The Hills meets Real World meets anything Bravo churns out….on crack.  And it’s just as addictive. 

So here’s my advice…hunker down during the blizzard and OnDemand the hell out of this show.  You might hate how much you love it.  You will for sure hate the names of the characters real life bartenders and wait staff at SUR (Jax, Stassi, Scheana.  And then poor Laura-Leigh…the crying rebound with the Minnie Mouse voice).   There are also two brunettes that I can't tell apart.  But that doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

They all want to be actors or singers or writers and some of them model to make money. I’m not sure what catalogues or magazines these people model for but they show some photo shoots that pain me.  One guy calls himself a "mactor" - a model and actor.  I mean are you fraking kidding me????  See?  SOOOOO good.

The guys fight for the love attention of the uber bitch of the group….and fighting in Vanderpump Rules involves ripping off their shirts in a Vegas parking lot in order to throw down.  There’s lying, crying, bitch fighting, bullying, epic drinking, endless f*bombs, horrible song and dance performances (oh...not even kidding) and so much high school nonsense that a girl just can’t turn away!

I have to believe it’s scripted because if it’s not I feel even worse about these people.  Watching this also makes me grateful that I’m not a 23 year old with a fake tan and horrendously cheesy hair and make-up trying to make it in L.A.  Not that I ever would be that girl, because for one, ghost-world-white is kind of my nature.  But trust me on this one….hate watch this while the snow is piling up outside.  You won’t regret it!

#4 - Get It Together:

Pulling together my tax paperwork so I can get me some money back.  Fold my laundry that’s been in a pile since Tuesday.  Clean the bathroom.  Vacuum.  Do yoga.  Empty the dishwasher.  eBay those clothes I keep talking about photographing and posting.  (Sold one shirt out of three last week.  Woohoo!)  Relist the other two shirts.

I’ve already trimmed my bangs and done the Clarisonic/face-moisturizing routine (which I do every night so that’s not so outrageous to do in a blizzard).  I think I’m good for the physical activity tonight.  Don’t want to run out of things to do this weekend.

#5 – Hibernate:

Along the lines of reading in bed during the day, but far less active.  Keep the shades closed.  Doze in-and-out of sleep all day.  Catch up on the DVR.  Try to find a movie on HBO or Showtime that actually interests me.  Marathon Girls.  Shut out the outside world.  Stay in pj’s.  Write.  (Though now I’m getting all active.)  Give in.  Let go.  Eyes closed.  Snooze.

And there you have it.

So when it comes to epic weather, not too much to talk about here in NYC.  This of course ensures that tomorrow will be a wall of white outside my window.  But when I realized there wouldn’t be an early exit from work due to the weather I prayed it would stay low key until I crossed the threshold into my building.  

So now, from the safety of my apartment I can go all balls to the wall - Bring it Nemo!   Show me what you’ve got! Just please don’t take my cable.  Or my power.  Because that would make for a really crappy blizzard weekend!  And that would ruin my wine buzz big time!  It make me feel so fine....

All NaNo’s Eve

With Halloween essentially cancelled in NYC and the city still in post-hurricane shock, to say there’s a weird vibe going around would be an understatement.

I can’t complain.  I never lost power.   Or water.  My family and friends are all fine.  (Thank you universe!)

The hurricane was far scarier and more devastating that I imagined.  But for me, essentially it was an exercise in emergency prep, scary windstorms, stress management, three days of crisis management for work managed from my dining room table, exhaustion, one migraine, a bathtub full of water *just in case* (thanks, mom!), connecting with friends to make sure everyone was okay, sock-drawer-sorting, conference calls, round the clock news coverage that makes me never want to watch the news again with two episodes of Scandal and two episodes of Castle scattered in for some much needed escape, flickering lights, a face mask, late night online stress shopping, a ton of coffee, endless glasses of water, some red wine in the middle of the day to take the edge off, and two naps. 

I’m a lucky girl.  That fact is not lost on me.  For the record, I’ve never been so grateful to not live in a hip, downtown neighborhood. 

And the ixnay on the alloweenhay?  Other than it being a convenient excuse to scarf down candy corn I’m not really much for All Hallow’s.  I mean sure I dressed up for the work party, but you know how it is….first year….need to make the good impression with the die-hards….and FINE…I’ll confess….I’ve forever wanted to be flapper. Definitely since Chicago but probably also back to Thoroughly Modern Millie (the Julie Andrews version, though would have loved to see Sutton Foster) and now that I’m old enough (ahem!) to afford a legit costume and not just some bs cheapie weepie thing from Ricky’s I went for it.  In spades.  And it rocked!

Now, those of you who got your Halloween costume at Ricky’s are probably thinking “not for nothing, but what is this snobby bizzo talking about? They have great costumes!”  And you’re right. They do. If you want to be a sexy maid. Or a sexy nurse Or a sexy flapper. Or a sexy firefighter. Or a sexy sack of potatoes.  What can I say?  What their costumes lack in good taste they also lack in fabric. Not much of either.  And sexy usually means trashy which is anything but sexy to me.  If I wanted my ass to hang out of my skirt, I wouldn’t be wearing a skirt.  But that’s just one girl’s opinion. 

Now if I’m the hunt for say some OPI nail polish…salon brand shampoo…hair-color stripper to correct a botched dye-job…double-sided body tape…Razzles?  Yes!  Ricky’s is the go-to shop.  No argument here.  But Halloween costumes…that will be seen pubically….not so much.

So, yes, flapper dreams became reality this year. (And I will wear this costume for the rest of my days because I loved it that much).  And if I could have lived the childhood not-so-secret dream of the song and dance to go with it, that would have made it ahh-may-zing!!  

Now, I really really wanted the hair to go with it.  Who doesn't want a reason to wear a wig and be someone else for a night or two.  But sadly my wig didn’t work as well as the rest of the outfit.  I did still rock a pretty damn cool style (in my humble, not-at-all-biased, opinion), which is not very well represented in this pre-party shot, thanks to a very talented friend at work.  But that was sooooo last week.  Been there.  Done that.  Have the costume.

This week?  Hurricane prep.  Horrid hurricane.  Hurricane recovery.

And like everything else with the j-o-b these days, it seems to derail me from the mission at hand.  Now coincidentally/fatefully enough I got a email from my trusted Writer’s Digest today with the article – 5 THINGS TO STOP DOING (IF YOU REALLYWANT TO FINISH WRITING YOUR NOVEL) – which essentially says to shut up and put up!  So true.  And if you’re like me and you can make excuses for not writing on some days better than you can make your own bed (only when my parents come over and only because if I don’t my dad will be horrified), then take a moment and click the link and read the article.  It’s short and sweet.

Unlike the excuses for not writing which can be lengthy and convoluted and full of excuses.  I know people who blame the rest of the world for everything bad that happens to them.  Who take no ownership.  Who accept ZERO responsibility for their lives, decisions, situations, etc.  I don’t like people like that. I don’t want to be people like that.  But sometimes when I’m not writing I am people like that.  Work is getting in the way.  My hours are too long. I would write more if I didn’t have to deal with my laundry…my TV shows….my errands…my making my bed bills.  If I just had more time I would definitely be writing.  I swear!  And while I could quote the whole WD article, I’ll pull one simple line that shuts down the inner I-blame-the-world-for-what-I’m-not-doing:

You can do Whatever. You.  Want. 

Simple.  To the point.  Epic truth.

So here’s me.  Doing what I want.  Writing this blog.  Psyching myself up for what’s to come tomorrow.  Or at midnight actually.  Blogged about it last time, but with just a few hours to go before National Novel Writing Month starts, I’ve got a bit of that delicious anxiety of anticipation. 

NaNoWriMo.

50,000 words.

1,666 a day.

More if I’m really good!

I know the next thirty days are absolutely going to kick my ass.  1,666 a day might not sound so bad. I’m up to 912 right now.  But anyone who writes knows - words don’t come that easy.  And sometimes they don’t come at all. 

(Like love.  “What?  What?” you say.  Listen to the song.  Mike Peters knows what he’s talking about.)

“It ain’t over til it’s over.” 

So 30 days. 50,000 words.  It all starts now.  It can happen.  

And it could not.

Because there’s a mountain of excuses that can get in my way…some of them legit reasons (full-time job, mainly) and the Thanksgiving holiday, which, I know - 4-day weekend = YEAH!  But presumably family time makes for less alone time, (and I LOVE me some alone time), but we’ll see what happens.  Eyes of the prize and all that jazz. (Jazz hands.  Flapper hands.  And dress.)

So here’s to it.  And from it.  And to it again. Let’s get to it. We might as well do it cause we may never do it again. (Drink, Delta Chapter!)

But like I said. I can do Whatever. I .  Want.

 (And could CZJ be any more amazing in this?)