tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10321778612340522362024-03-13T05:04:35.044-04:00It's a Melissa, Lauren Type of Thing.Not Intended For the Easily Offended, Morally Superior, or the Blandly Serious.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.comBlogger111125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-65779092316378186922012-01-16T06:00:00.003-05:002012-01-16T06:00:11.146-05:00News to Me: Serena Williams' Love Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFyzWdlQPRLJDtDMNwMd7pXsELjxMcVfgePaJjpNdDKIzxCxK5il2HP1LT4BiphutXT9_LvC_z_6EM5H20sXeJgVMgVw9n3k0yajuOFdT2umWgH4NStPY9eG4ZKMAC_J2ckMwh_k_3zNE/s1600/serena-williams.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFyzWdlQPRLJDtDMNwMd7pXsELjxMcVfgePaJjpNdDKIzxCxK5il2HP1LT4BiphutXT9_LvC_z_6EM5H20sXeJgVMgVw9n3k0yajuOFdT2umWgH4NStPY9eG4ZKMAC_J2ckMwh_k_3zNE/s320/serena-williams.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697919700551367298" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">Maybe I'm the last to know that Common was involved with Serena Williams, so forgive me for my late expression of disgust. There was a recent article write up about her love life, or lack there of, that reports she "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">can be super picky, never satisfied". Talk about beggars being choosers! There is no amount of money or talent in the world that can convince me that she is worth the attention of Common. There is a basic law of the universe that comes into play here: if you look like a derivative of a horse, you forfeit your right to be "super picky". You take what the hell you can get. The article goes on to say that Serena complains that she hasn't been on a date in "forever". I wonder why. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">This is a common complaint I hear among women that frustrates me. Women as a gender are exceptionally more picky when it comes to dating then men. After a first date, a man is more likely to be interested in a second date with a woman if she is attractive, fun, and somewhat interesting. Women will refuse a second date because she didn't like the color shoes a man was wearing, a joke that he made, or how he pronounced particular wine. If you're single and actively want a mate, sometimes you have let certain bullshit go in order to see if there are things beneath it all that are worth coming back for. Don't get me wrong, I've refused a second date with a guy because I thought he had a lame tattoo and called too much, but I also didn't go home that night wanting a boyfriend. Being single/content and single/miserable are two very different things. The perfect man does not exist. Your only goal in dating should be to find a man whose annoying flaws aren't total deal breakers (i.e. abusive, cheating, and/or Katherine Heigl fan).<br /></span></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The moral of the story is, stop being so picky, ladies. And if at all possible, avoid looking like a horse. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 22px; font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-Lauren</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><br /></span></span></div></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-73549762583872954392012-01-12T19:13:00.007-05:002012-01-13T18:48:41.661-05:00Good Cop/Bad Cop: Kim Kardashian<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi38_i3tF0N0liRt3kvRcC5uteCJFLNFHxsNmYt4mfYwniGcB663X2N_FUK4shILlMFvEZsJTgtQWl2PcwZmCRNbjULI4ZLBNtKwYlCIC3K4HC9oTORtpXRqAKIsZ15f_993_ymUaI5r61/s1600/wenn2824606.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi38_i3tF0N0liRt3kvRcC5uteCJFLNFHxsNmYt4mfYwniGcB663X2N_FUK4shILlMFvEZsJTgtQWl2PcwZmCRNbjULI4ZLBNtKwYlCIC3K4HC9oTORtpXRqAKIsZ15f_993_ymUaI5r61/s320/wenn2824606.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696906337122617202" border="0" /></a><br />Good Cop<br /><br /><div><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">I'm</span> not gonna say that I've never seen her shows, I will say however that I paid it about as much attention as I would to an autistic child in a spelling bee. The attempt is there but there's a real lack of results which is expected. It is because of this that I have no real disdain for Kim K, and I call her that out of sheer refusal to attempt to spell her ridiculous last name. I will say this while the majority of our nation is appalled at her marital mishap I find myself strangely relieved. I like the idea that I have had benders longer then this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">woman's</span> vows were honored. She reminds myself and other morally loose women that marriages aren't as hard to get out of as everyone says. Nothing quite takes the pressure off the big day like realizing that tomorrow if you wake up and want out it'll take less time to leave your husband bitter, heart broken, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">embarrassed</span> then it did to sign the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">pre-nup</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">That'll</span> do Kim, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">That'll</span> do.<br />-Meliss<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Bad Cop</div><div><br /></div><div>Congratulations. The few people that liked you, which is likely those with an IQ equivalent to an autistic parrot, now realize what I've seen from the beginning: you're nothing more than a huge ass and a boring lay (thanks for shining the light on that Ray J!). As time goes on, we learn more and more that you planned your entire relationship and wedding in order to let it fail. I will never be that girl that will get on a soap box and yell about the "sanctity of marriage", but it's also hard to come by someone that would spread their cheeks and shit on it quite as violently as she did. If she didn't know that she was going to divorce him from the beginning, I strongly believe she would have done a better job in trying to conceal her marital woes rather than airing them out so apparently. It doesn't matter what her family says in her defense, especially that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">botoxed</span> mother that gets 10%. We all know this was a shame. I seriously hope the Kim K hype can die down after this disgusting ploy for attention and ratings. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Khloe</span> is the only one that can make me put down the rusty razor long enough to finish watching the episode. Oh, did I not mention that I watch their shows? Like, all of their shows. Shit, I guess I'm officially a part of the problem.... </div><div><br /></div><div>Lauren </div><div> <div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-89423786157904636952012-01-12T16:01:00.006-05:002012-01-12T16:38:17.085-05:00Say What?!?!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGdFHS89nNOHCRL-fnwSsJGrXZyyF6TcJ-ldp9OVDmYH0rlu_tEgBSEF8KmD0sK8VRS8ZgjAJg3r6KlDcf8QeRbE6U0ef8e9lolRkLXsxB47JBtALJ71HmZFbJ3fne_1nMS06lpKOQzu0s/s1600/signlanguagesaywhat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGdFHS89nNOHCRL-fnwSsJGrXZyyF6TcJ-ldp9OVDmYH0rlu_tEgBSEF8KmD0sK8VRS8ZgjAJg3r6KlDcf8QeRbE6U0ef8e9lolRkLXsxB47JBtALJ71HmZFbJ3fne_1nMS06lpKOQzu0s/s320/signlanguagesaywhat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696859082703703618" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">I'm</span> not gonna say that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">I'm</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">diffic</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ult</span> to amuse. I will say however, that it takes a very special kind of person to catch me off guard enough to leave me speechless. Working as a bartender I undoubtedly get to experience a very special work environment. This is a fragment of one of the many conversations that I've been a part of at work that has left me bewildered at the very least.<br /><br />GUY1: Yea, you know <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">I'm</span> still dating that deaf chic.<br />GUY2: Oh yea. Hows that?<br />Guy1: Good. I guess. I mean she trips some. Its cool though when she keeps riding my shit and nagging me. I call her and leave her multiple <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">voice mails</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Who's</span> mad now bitch????<br />Guy1/Guy2: burst out laughing<br /><br /><br />....I guess if I do go to hell. I wont be alone. *sigh*<br />-MelissaMelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-38590889884060624842012-01-11T16:50:00.002-05:002012-01-11T16:54:48.493-05:00Cheap Shots: Short People<div> </div><div>I ran into an old friend the other day. She looked great; she had just had a baby and lost all the gross motherly weight. Until then, I had never noticed just how short she was. That is, until she went in for the awkward hug. Where do you put your hands on a person that barely looks your vagina in the face? I always struggle in the format in these types of situations. I'm entirely too lazy to bend down too far. Yet if I don't, you're unable to breathe with a mouth full of boob.</div><div><br /></div>Short people freak me out, plain and simple. The little fingers, clothing that looks fresh off of a Buddy Doll, and shoe sizes I couldn't fit when I was a toddler-- none of it sits right with me. I don't trust them; what are you doing all the way down there under everyone's natural line of vision? I tip my hat to the little Asian girls that wear high heels even with their sweatpants in an effort to compensate for their limitations.<div><br /></div><div>I once dated a guy shorter than me. The relationship could not reach it's full potential considering that as a 5'9" female, I reserve the right to bounce on my lap and tickle anyone that is smaller than me. Apparently, that's not conducive to a healthy relationship or letting a man feel like a man. Oh well, you live and you learn.<div><br /></div></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-44975065913758934872012-01-11T15:27:00.004-05:002012-01-12T16:41:54.635-05:00Cheap Shot: That Girl<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7R3BNW78fD7WaX8z0vh1rw5MyNNHURRqNy3tXOe6aIKyjeUSHd1nWnSsjXEktxxLPR30_n2ppVHkGVQYaskVFi_1XXQILYRGpXupHTL8Wkqudp7-6xeOyOvwcWwepHc7UlMfKHZYSRBz/s1600/thatgirl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB7R3BNW78fD7WaX8z0vh1rw5MyNNHURRqNy3tXOe6aIKyjeUSHd1nWnSsjXEktxxLPR30_n2ppVHkGVQYaskVFi_1XXQILYRGpXupHTL8Wkqudp7-6xeOyOvwcWwepHc7UlMfKHZYSRBz/s320/thatgirl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696851918580838002" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tha</span></span><a onclick="'return" class="jewelButton" rel="toggle" name="notifications" target="fbNotificationsFlyout" gt="{"ua_id":"jewel:notifications"}"><span class="jewelCount" id="notificationsCountWrapper"><span id="notificationsCountValue">t Girl:<br />Everyone </span></span></a>knows her yet no one claims to be her. Perhaps all women are her at one point in time. She's nice, caring, sympathetic, and understanding. All good qualities which most likely contribute to her being gullible and prone to being taken advantage of.<br /><a onclick="'return" class="jewelButton" rel="toggle" name="notifications" target="fbNotificationsFlyout" gt="{"ua_id":"jewel:notifications"}"><span class="jewelCount" id="notificationsCountWrapper"><span id="notificationsCountValue"><br />Maybe at one point she was appreciated and valued but no one knows for sure. All we do know is that presently</span></span></a> she is a blubbering mess that chases around a guy <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">that's</span> sole interest in her is monetary.<br /><br />Oh sweetheart, drinks are on you no doubt, but so is rent, his child support, and the cost to repair the damage he did to your car. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">I'm</span> not gonna lie this type of female makes me wish I was a lesbian for monetary gain alone. When did females become so vulnerable and idiotic. How are we as a gender completely capable of passing a watermelon through our vaginal opening then return to work in a few weeks, yet some of us can't summon the strength to tell our other half to get a job. I may be the minority here but I'd let you plow through all of my girlfriends<a onclick="'return" class="jewelButton" rel="toggle" name="notifications" target="fbNotificationsFlyout" gt="{"ua_id":"jewel:notifications"}"></a> before I'd let you drain my bank account. Say what you want about a broken heart but I'd take that over botched credit any day.<br /><br />Still not sure if I'm talking about you? Still convinced that your situation is completely different? Sure, there are signs and clues to let you know that you are in fact "that girl" that we all mock publicly, but lets face it you wouldn't listen to them anyway. Maybe you'd listen but you'd be to busy identifying out to put two and two together. So why should I bother?<br /><br />Eventually you will have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">alienated</span> yourself from half of your friends, all of your money and most of your self respect will have disappeared. These things happen, at least to you they do. So know this, when you have given him your last twenty and your gas tank is empty, your nails are in need of a fill in, and your car payment is two months over due he will no doubt be doing what he has always done. Leaving you at home crying and wondering what you did wrong, while he catches up with me at the bar and buys me drinks all night. I guess we all win...... well, two out of three <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ain't</span> bad.<br />-Melissa<br /><a onclick="'return" class="jewelButton" rel="toggle" name="notifications" target="fbNotificationsFlyout" gt="{"ua_id":"jewel:notifications"}"><span class="jewelCount" id="notificationsCountWrapper"><span id="notificationsCountValue"></span></span></a><div class="fbJewel" id="fbNotificationsJewel"><a onclick="'return" class="jewelButton" rel="toggle" name="notifications" target="fbNotificationsFlyout" gt="{"ua_id":"jewel:notifications"}"><span class="jewelCount" id="notificationsCountWrapper"><span id="notificationsCountValue"></span></span></a></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-55156550565530545752012-01-10T12:13:00.013-05:002012-01-12T16:44:18.528-05:00Free Advice: Baby Showers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPm4Tj04uohYhyphenhyphen9XBoRZSkmtTJW8o7Hp0VqQtvtET_de9ou-y9VSjchwgr-LNpz0-WjkGDX4MonBAo_V9FJ8OBrClHmqfGtg6QJnHWKuxGFSCTGktzLwp_HEHwnj_RjR8R_LfMVKxuNOnS/s1600/diapercake.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPm4Tj04uohYhyphenhyphen9XBoRZSkmtTJW8o7Hp0VqQtvtET_de9ou-y9VSjchwgr-LNpz0-WjkGDX4MonBAo_V9FJ8OBrClHmqfGtg6QJnHWKuxGFSCTGktzLwp_HEHwnj_RjR8R_LfMVKxuNOnS/s320/diapercake.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696059979509309842" border="0" /></a><br />A month or so ago I was talked into attending yet another baby shower. It was a tedious negotiation that had to be beefed up with promises of alcoholic beverages, a designated driver, and exemption from any and all baby shower games.<br /><br />In preparation for this debacle I agreed to go half in on a diaper cake, whatever that was. I learned shortly that this was not something we would be buying, this we were going to create. Needless to say I only contributed financially and watched my childless underage friend happily spend and an hour and a half making a three tier cake out of diapers, lotion, toys, rubber bands, and ribbon. I actually would have been impressed had I had any intention of using my ovaries for anything other then a solid excuse to thwart off undesirable sexual relations. So I did what I do, while she happily made the cake envisioning what I would guess would be her own baby shower I drank a few beers and managed to mock her profusely. She was a good sport about it. I contribute this mainly to the fact that she too was drinking beer.<br /><br />By the time we arrived all of the women were more than a few drinks in w/the exception of the mother to be of course. This made the air of contempt and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bitterness</span> quite pungent. She was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">surrounded</span> by primarily older woman with the exception of a few, one being my noticeably intoxicated driver. You could tell that the soon to be mom was rethinking her enthusiasm. All she got to hear was how much pain labor was, the downward spiraling of their bodies, "if I had it to do all over" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">agains</span>, and the pleasant sound of me popping open another beer. Needless to say I was amused even if my tubes were literally attempting to tie themselves. The "mother to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">be"'s</span> mood was to say the least changing as the day progressed. I imagine she was rethinking her plight into <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">motherdom</span> or at least contemplating smuggling a bottle of wine into the bathroom with her. I suppose I'll never know.<br /><br />I do know this however, the ideal audience for a baby shower is not a handful of menopausal women that hate their children and want a do over, a thirty year old mother that misses her vagina, a twenty-seven year old that eats morning after pill like their <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">pez</span> to thwart off <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">oopsies</span>, and a drunk twenty year old that just realized she likes drinking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">a lot</span> more than changing diapers.<br /><br />While epically entertaining for me it's not at all <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">reassuring</span> to you. A little free advice limit your guest lists to enthusiastic mothers to be or sober mommy drones. If you don't know any then perhaps you should skip the shower all together. I bet peace of mind and excitement of your upcoming vaginal sacrifice is worth <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">a lot</span> more then all the shitty presents you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">received</span> at the baby shower even the diaper cake.<br /><br />-MelissaMelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-16195726473964123262012-01-10T09:24:00.005-05:002012-01-10T09:56:53.071-05:00Blue<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-FX5up4Xkg-XfWyUr4YGMODvNBZpX8g0ACuFNFnQ5_dlHgNQ7gVT9_LVjhyep8Xjk85CLs01dkfkOL2P48XSZxzZVuqazuUNq7V5ZdQPfcgQ-BLyJncSOF-uJo5WaMzCGYmph9LuEqcT/s1600/000_124750221.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-FX5up4Xkg-XfWyUr4YGMODvNBZpX8g0ACuFNFnQ5_dlHgNQ7gVT9_LVjhyep8Xjk85CLs01dkfkOL2P48XSZxzZVuqazuUNq7V5ZdQPfcgQ-BLyJncSOF-uJo5WaMzCGYmph9LuEqcT/s320/000_124750221.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696014919976895202" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>Jay Z wasted absolutely no time in writing and recording a new song featuring his brand new daughter who got her name from her father's favorite color. Creative. My favorite color is that magical hue you get when you accidently mix your ketchup and honey mustard, so beat that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Am I the only one confused about Jay Z's proclamation that Blue is his "greatest creation"? Some where in the world, his son is slitting his wrist with a shard of plastic from a broken copy of the Black Album. I was rather anxious to be able to see the pics of the baby. That was until Jay Z so eloquently remarked in his song that "she looks like a little me". After spitting the vomit out of my mouth, I quickly lost interest in ever seeing this baby. It's hard enough to look at Jay Z in the face without having the sudden urge to watch Lord of the Rings. I'd prefer never to see that goblin-esque face on a miniature body. Poor thing. Clearly, money can't buy a cute kid. ("Believe me, I've tried" -Angelina Jolie)</div><div><br /></div><div>My first wish, in the name of all things fair, was that the child would come out looking only of her mother. Since that dream is apparently floating out of reach, I just hope she doesn't turn out just as annoying and precocious as Will Smith's kids. Though, even after a few days, Blue now has just as much of an annoying singing career as Willow Smith. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGFAFvV4dpI">Check out the song. Or don't. Blue even cries ugly. </a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>-Lauren</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-6852504523970714292012-01-09T01:00:00.005-05:002012-01-09T07:07:43.949-05:00Back in the Throw of ThingsThere's a time to give the people what they want and there's a time to walk out on stage, bringing false hopes and anticipation, only to drop the mic and disappear. We probably pulled a Chapelle prematurely with our blog and that's unfortunate. So here's our attempt to get back in the throws of things; to reach greater heights of entertainment and hilarity, and earn back your trust. We're going to treat this like we would treat any relationship we left too quickly and without a clear reason: we will tell you that you're still sexy and that we thought of you every moment we were apart, all the while knowing it is a distinct possibility that we may leave again, also without a good reason or even an obligatory good bye. So, we're sorry in advance.<br /><br />Not a lot has changed. Melissa is still drunk, only in a different state. She's still bartending and refusing to adhere to an adult standard of living. Lauren's going the stand up comedy route, while Melissa is sticking to book writing. Lauren paid her dues and worked as a therapist for a time, but realized quickly that listening to people talk about their tragic lives without being able to laugh at it was a living hell.<div><br /></div><div>We're a little older. Melissa's a little thinner and we're both a little more tatted up. Aside from that we're still the same. If we can't entertain you or at least shock and offend you then the next time you see us out and about, your first drink is on us. Well... it's on Melissa. It would be hard to find Lauren in a bar these days (with the exception of the occasional open mic). Here's to another few weeks of fun.<br /><br /></div><div>-Melissa & Lauren</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-72761981860534993152009-10-12T08:00:00.000-04:002009-10-12T08:00:07.542-04:00Entertainment Review: Away We Go<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6I-lwbVbtQJK6V8x8fR4qkrAkoX3IvjpQVpWxE21cP33k4u7nRgtWs1NXstBVRDFjp3p1lA21ontbdp52DZxK8yYvTfQPxfIbXoEbYbbpxTty9VFrHF58W1qivBhZMo5r2RKt9-cfwMJ/s1600-h/468cb434ac778d1d_away-we-go.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6I-lwbVbtQJK6V8x8fR4qkrAkoX3IvjpQVpWxE21cP33k4u7nRgtWs1NXstBVRDFjp3p1lA21ontbdp52DZxK8yYvTfQPxfIbXoEbYbbpxTty9VFrHF58W1qivBhZMo5r2RKt9-cfwMJ/s320/468cb434ac778d1d_away-we-go.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391494094889896306" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Simply put, this is probably one of the greater movies out. Why? Because it has two of my favorite things: an interracial couple and Jim from The Office. The on-screen chemistry he has with his girlfriend in this movie was comparable to his with Pam. I don't particularly find him attractive, mostly because of that annoying flip his hair does, but anytime I see him on screen I seem to fall for him. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Literally all the supporting characters were hilarious in their own way too- whether it be because they are drunk and terrible parents, or because they are so delightfully flawed in a subtle way that it makes you realize the humanity of the character. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Spoiler: The first clip consists of John Krasinski going down on his girlfriend. If that doesn't send you running to Blockbuster, I don't know what will. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">~Lauren</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-83500437842006054052009-10-09T18:36:00.008-04:002009-10-09T18:58:43.245-04:00Agreeing to Agree: David Letterman Scandal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNC8iLUhyphenhyphengpUJFft5-K0uEKteYTJ7hJMRUVYgixcZCC43DOYOztymojPiNVuJX9o6cKtX5gf4H58Lct6MUekzhZvZS-w2v_bjghX-oLH4dpI18JP6QF7Hu_8cMfv8gBGps-uqoFGAYfUuF/s1600-h/2006124143145_DavidLetterman(CBS).jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNC8iLUhyphenhyphengpUJFft5-K0uEKteYTJ7hJMRUVYgixcZCC43DOYOztymojPiNVuJX9o6cKtX5gf4H58Lct6MUekzhZvZS-w2v_bjghX-oLH4dpI18JP6QF7Hu_8cMfv8gBGps-uqoFGAYfUuF/s320/2006124143145_DavidLetterman(CBS).jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390736277742123954" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-weight: bold; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF0000;">Occasionally while skimming through the possible topics for our Good Cop/Bad Cop topics we stumble on to a topic that we can't help but agree on. Though we take turns attempting to play devils advocate on a regular basis occasionally we are unable to find any logic what so ever in the opposing parties argument, even enough to mock it profusely. We like to call these moments Agreeing to Agree. This is basically were we mock all parties involved, particularly the people on the opposing side of the fence. This is one of those times where we caught our selves "Agreeing to Agree."</span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">David Letterman recently outed himself to his viewers as a morally lose, skirt chasing boss, that thwarts off black mail attempts by airing out his own laundry on national television. Americans were shocked and speech less as they listened to him drudge on about his reckless marital affairs and him having much to make up for to his newlywed wife of seven months.</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Poor woman. I don't know which aspect of this is more embarrassing for her. The fact that he waited seven whole months to get caught defecating on his marital vows or that she got cheated on by someone that makes the average woman's insides shrivel and dry up quicker then the thoughts of a homeless man with scabies. I can only hope and pray that she is in it for the money because if the love of her life is unattractive and unfaithful she may decide to chase a few hundred Ambien pills with a bottle of Grey Goose, and nobody wants that on their conscience.</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As someone that is opposed to practically nothing. I don't really have a problem with extramarital affairs. I believe that the good majority of the time the woman is aware of her beaus wandering tendencies and the beau is just enjoying the fact that his spouse allows him to wander. At least until feelings get involved and then things get really confusing. If nothing else these sort of affairs make for interesting bar brawls, and gossip. Add an angry jealous streak, an ex mistress that refuses to be shamed out of going anywhere, and a drunk mouthy wife and I am thoroughly entertained.</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Anyway. Kudos to you Letterman. You stood your ground and kept your millions. Sure this may have resulted in the embarrassment of your beloved wife. But lets be honest, if you considered her in the least or were concerned with her being embarrassed, you wouldn't have been passing around your penis as frequently as inter office memos. I am just amazed that you found yet another woman that was willing to have sex with you. I honestly don't think that I would be able to stomach such a stomach curdling challenge. At least not unless it was from the back, blindfolded, with Gerard Butler coaching me enthusiastically, all while clutching the million dollars that you payed me. Even then I would probably still need a bucket and a cold wash cloth to fight off the waves of nausea. But that's just me.</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">~Melissa</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">And maybe it's just me, but I'd likely be the face of this Letterman scandal, had I only the chance. I apparently have a thing for dads, especially if they are old enough to be mine. I don't understand what the shock of this situation is. He's a public figure that refused to marry his long time girlfriend until he knocked her up. I get it, he probably thought at his age he was shooting blanks in the sperm department. I'd like to think that he promised to marry her only under pregnant circumstances, thinking his little soldiers wouldn't march. Well... joke was on you, David. Now, you're at least 93 with a child young enough to be your grandchild.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I can't say I condone it, but I also can't blame you for playing around on your wife. My guess is you'd do just about anything to feel young again. Or at least 50. If there is an office full of young broads that are easy and opportunist enough to get naked for their boss, I say go for it. I just hope you wore a condom. Unlike the vows you made to your wife, AIDS is real. </span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">~Lauren</span></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /></div></span>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-88640689543943133372009-10-08T08:00:00.004-04:002009-10-08T08:00:01.101-04:00Say What?! Arnold Schwarzenegger<div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9nUykbLUNCSdLSomKvtA761KH1ahUaC1C2uhiDhnc0uldcP_59rl-Qe2o1CkLhxa1feyPE8cj2JqDRyoZDMpDE-lCjE4JvWCEctW8pMCKpF4O1fKZ5xgzQMw0Br55-0tytgYsHNV6upy/s1600-h/Arnold-Schwarzenegger-Heart-Surgery1.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs9nUykbLUNCSdLSomKvtA761KH1ahUaC1C2uhiDhnc0uldcP_59rl-Qe2o1CkLhxa1feyPE8cj2JqDRyoZDMpDE-lCjE4JvWCEctW8pMCKpF4O1fKZ5xgzQMw0Br55-0tytgYsHNV6upy/s320/Arnold-Schwarzenegger-Heart-Surgery1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389255329332625698" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; "><b><i>"I think gay marriage is something that should be between a man and a woman".</i></b></div><div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><i>-Arnold Schwarzenegger</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Really?</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">I guess what this half wit was <i>trying</i> to say is that marriage should be between a man and a woman. If a guy wants to marry another dude, I say go for it. I plan to avoid marriage as long as humanly possible, so why not let them take my spot in marital hell.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">If I hear one more person say that gay marriage will "destroy" the idea of marriage, I'll start a riot. I think drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas and divorce does a pretty good job of that on it's own. I don't think walking down the aisle with someone you just met at the bar dressed as Shaft is making God cry tears of joy.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">It's hilarious that people can marry for money, fame, obligation and even to get green cards, but two gay people that actually love each other can't get married because of people's ignorance. And most annoyingly, their religion. <b>If you think being gay is a sin, then don't be in a gay relationship. </b>But don't try to force your bigoted beliefs on everyone else.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">So as you sit down to your dinner at Red Lobster... Remember the Bible said that eating sea creatures without scales or fins is an abomination too. Keep<i> </i>up the selective Bible reading and all the hatred, because I'm sure <i>that's</i> what God LOVES to see.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">~Lauren</div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><i><br /></i></b></div></div></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-6039960146267872722009-10-07T20:09:00.006-04:002009-10-07T21:10:44.657-04:00Cheap Shots Michael Lohan<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrUQWt_jp-guGyP858GTxVxtbCLfmbtJaW2LuwCvfXp8BYmXykau1SU5Nn45avkrd1IP-Le9W8qYNMUiczo8n9AgaIyznFiKFnsBU9b-3LqwHG35uIIqW80OvlIZyqZq1RiIutxppX1d6-/s1600-h/mellaur.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390027162001760274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrUQWt_jp-guGyP858GTxVxtbCLfmbtJaW2LuwCvfXp8BYmXykau1SU5Nn45avkrd1IP-Le9W8qYNMUiczo8n9AgaIyznFiKFnsBU9b-3LqwHG35uIIqW80OvlIZyqZq1RiIutxppX1d6-/s320/mellaur.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Michael <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Lohan</span>, father of Lindsay <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lohan</span> is finally opening up regarding his daughters erratic behavior. He blames her spiraling downfall on prescription drug abuse. "While Michael wouldn't specify what particular medications his daughter is "abusing," he does believe that they've changed her for the worse." He even went as far as saying, "she's a different person." "This was not the kid I raised."<br /><br />Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Lohan,</span> take a q<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ue</span> from the parents of other young B-list celebrities. Smile, shake your head quietly, and just pray that she hasn't squandered so much of her money on cocaine and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Valium</span> that she has to tuck her tail between her legs and move back home. She is an adult now, from here on out she is solely to blame for the shitty happenings in her life. Parent's get off the hook for watching their daughters change through the peep hole, slapping their spouse with a golf club, and doing lines of blow in front of their kids once their children are of legal age. Congratulations, you were successful. Now let's just hope her promiscuity has left her barren so that we won't have to place bets on what drug her kid overdoses on.<br /><br />Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Lohan</span> admitting to the world that your daughter has a problem doesn't make you a good parent and you don't get credit for your own addiction by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">outing</span> her either. Your daughter has many problems, drugs are only one of them. Keep in mind though, the more sober and coherent she is the easier it is for her to remember her childhood and what events helped mold her into the pill popping, on and off again lesbian, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">clepto</span> that she is. If I were you I would just find out what milligram prescription she is using and ask that doctor to double it. Sometimes it's just easier to start fresh. Hopefully losing one daughter will be encouragement enough to do things right next time.<br />~Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-90617808322347265702009-10-07T07:50:00.002-04:002009-10-07T11:35:12.697-04:00Cheap Shots: Seth Green<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLW7rDNwSiPSiYYM3_DrehL6JZZuVQQmgwRGUx5I97zTm5tKx3IE19_9yYRzMnVp_-dW85D-fVFUNKsGXoFBnYbX6pU7ATkIjr4Uux4bOSykNssPRFDmVHX8CCDw5Tly6IV51Wk1KhDj12/s1600-h/53305511.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 222px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLW7rDNwSiPSiYYM3_DrehL6JZZuVQQmgwRGUx5I97zTm5tKx3IE19_9yYRzMnVp_-dW85D-fVFUNKsGXoFBnYbX6pU7ATkIjr4Uux4bOSykNssPRFDmVHX8CCDw5Tly6IV51Wk1KhDj12/s320/53305511.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389253917477623602" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've never been less intimated by another human being than Seth Green. It's hard for me to listen to the rants of a guy who is 5'4" and keep a straight face. I've had bowel movements taller than 5'4". So listening to him scream angrily at the set crew recently was kind of annoying. Take a look and see what I mean:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bP8R0tNhkrA&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bP8R0tNhkrA&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: normal; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In a word, that was lame. I'm going to assume that was some sort of publicity stunt, because I have difficulty believing people really act like that. Did you notice that the guy talking to him from behind was literally a foot taller than him? All I saw was the dude's stomach as Seth continued on his it's-that-time-of-the-month rant. </span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Besides being short, you have red hair, Seth. Sorry, you're not scary, you're adorable. Had I been there, it would have taken everything in me not to pat him on the head and tell him how precious he is. Maybe that's why he got robbed... they thought he was an 11 year old with cash and saw an opportunity. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's tragic that his getting robbed brought me and countless others so much amusement. I find his misbehavior darling. All this attention he's getting... at least tell me he has a movie coming out.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">~Lauren</span></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-84468213127773887582009-10-06T20:46:00.006-04:002009-10-06T21:32:49.839-04:00Free Advice: Stay the F**k Home<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9udZ16fO7ZTpoPiD2a9hXoNwkRt3xS_A3mNsZVamj5yGP06WNMBFEd0zkl0S4OGJDNTyb6bJUoM7pOlSDbXd0n4XHYjB8geUtfZCtcgyTFc1gTvDEEQIVVLnif-l46Iiou6clgDNIejGC/s1600-h/mellaur.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389659055931469602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 251px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9udZ16fO7ZTpoPiD2a9hXoNwkRt3xS_A3mNsZVamj5yGP06WNMBFEd0zkl0S4OGJDNTyb6bJUoM7pOlSDbXd0n4XHYjB8geUtfZCtcgyTFc1gTvDEEQIVVLnif-l46Iiou6clgDNIejGC/s320/mellaur.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Nothing foreshadows a shittier week then walking into the office to find everyone there has come down with the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ebola</span> virus. I can instantly feel my eyes watering and my throat closing up at the site of every disease known to man incubating within a three feet radius of my cubicle. What on earth made you come to work today? Is your home life that unpleasant that you would prefer to allow the flu to reek havoc on your bowel movement right here in our office.<br /><br />Despite what you may think, no one needs you at work that much. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">I'm</span> pretty sure we will function just fine without having to witness snot bubbling down your upper lip at stunning rates. The fact that your coughing up something that has the coloring of guacamole and the consistency of tapioca pudding should be your first concern. Whether or not your boss will think less of you for taking time off to die in the privacy of your own home shouldn't even make the top five.<br /><br />You people infuriate me. I purposefully hide the tissues, turn up the ac, and leave the windows open in hopes that you will be hospitalized in the near future. If you have a stomach virus I sit in the bathroom <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">texting</span>, indulge in the most stomach twisting <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">nourishments</span>, and remove the back up rolls of toilet paper from the closet. If you have a problem with me being that inconsiderate... F**k you. Why should I be concerned with your health and well being when you obviously have no <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">concern</span> with mine.<br /><br />My advice, for those of you that work with me or others like me, if you don't want to end up on a respiratory machine you should think twice before coming to work "under the weather."</div><div>~Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-64931708737538899182009-10-06T08:00:00.000-04:002009-10-06T08:00:07.176-04:00Lauren's Free Advice: On Taking Advice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAEvEr6VN2HOhBk2lOjNDyNpxr23To0hl0UxmIyJawdb8ahyphenhyphen3gsFJ9zaNriCgcErtfVQp469NWhjiaB6TGMqEO-quXR0p8Jb37M2RYW-Bv0C1I0vDqJ5kkUUyl3CeNIJkIw9nNMTg-s4A/s1600-h/advice-300x225.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAEvEr6VN2HOhBk2lOjNDyNpxr23To0hl0UxmIyJawdb8ahyphenhyphen3gsFJ9zaNriCgcErtfVQp469NWhjiaB6TGMqEO-quXR0p8Jb37M2RYW-Bv0C1I0vDqJ5kkUUyl3CeNIJkIw9nNMTg-s4A/s320/advice-300x225.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389248174231178402" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Melissa and I have been giving you all advice for the past few months, so I figure maybe it's time to address this. I hope to God none of you have actually needed this website for parenting, relationships and other random nuggets of wisdom. In case you haven't noticed, if the advice that we give can apply to you, we are usually really mocking you, not trying to help you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There are some people out there that love to give advice. My best piece of advice: stop listening to them. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It may be time to get new friends if their best words of wisdom are typically a cliché. I think we all have a friend like that. You have a day from hell-- while all you want to do is vent and take tequila shots, he/she is spouting something about silver linings in clouds and everything happening for a reason. Sure, everything <i>does</i> happen for a reason, but I'd argue telling me that as I hold my eviction notice is not comforting. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'd also advise that you not take advice from someone whose life is habitually shittier than yours. If this friend has a reserved room at the crazy house, it's best that you ignore their efforts. You can recognize this friend by the barrel of a loaded gun pressed closely to their lips. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Honestly, you're better off just winging it then listening to the girl who can't keep a guy longer than a week about what she thinks you should do about your boyfriend's wandering eye. Besides, if your life ends up in shambles, at least you can't blame anyone but yourself. Comforting? I think so. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">~Lauren</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-24137802528565812162009-10-05T19:40:00.010-04:002009-10-05T20:49:42.513-04:00Entertainment Review: Sherri<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJgCFd0L6DyHARiarF4mAJsrIR-Iym1nAgVKRS6j8CuEY73zv5kUClcm1eOjZj8Xg-mmZI4BXBWkMjjk0NFPtT4aUfNnNier0mqVeb6VxDWlvgiZ82PxHkH0j6w8Q0fYMq8U063LUKPJw/s1600-h/mellaur.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389279462171348658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 104px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJgCFd0L6DyHARiarF4mAJsrIR-Iym1nAgVKRS6j8CuEY73zv5kUClcm1eOjZj8Xg-mmZI4BXBWkMjjk0NFPtT4aUfNnNier0mqVeb6VxDWlvgiZ82PxHkH0j6w8Q0fYMq8U063LUKPJw/s320/mellaur.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Despite my better judgement I curled up on the couch this evening and decided to devote thirty minutes of my precious time to the new show Sherri. Having never watched The View I was completely puzzled by the fact that someone would base a television show on a character that has the effect of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">icy</span> cold water on most <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">male's</span> nether regions. I soon discovered that she was relatively famous, her role in entertainment being that of me and Lauren's, to mock things profusely. I have to say that my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">curiosity</span> involving this show resulted from it's non stop advertisements and discovering that her sense of humor bore a slight resemblance to Lauren's sarcastic <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">comebacks</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">inappropriate</span> observations. I just had to experience this show first hand.<br /><br />Sherri was exactly as advertised. A zany quick witted female who gave up on being attractive a long time ago. I was puzzled by the selection of her supporting actresses. These woman at first glance were elevens on a one to ten scale. I couldn't figure out how they were going to get their viewers to pay any attention to Sherri, who is less model and more gargoyle. After a couple of minutes I discovered they had a method to their madness. While her supporting female characters were eye pleasing they were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">debilitatingly </span>stupid. I could honestly feel <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">aneurysms</span> beginning to pulsate through out my body in aggravation as the show progressed.<br /><br />I honestly was slightly entertained. I just can't decide whether to watch the show blind folded so that I won't be nauseated at the sight of Sherri or with my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">tv</span> on mute so that I wont be irritated by the dialogue of the rest of the cast.</div><div>~Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-14811365129142964202009-10-05T13:06:00.003-04:002009-10-05T13:11:33.188-04:00Entertainment Review: Modern Family<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxR6kYPZ3EgcObqYNJ1PaMJwF9uZvM6Jc7fqftBZDOd7_zgazNwJMAr9rK4VkG4Foc5XCjQGP1A9XOm86qvUWmN43aRdeni-tdqhuosiwkJttX2jMR8Kg0U5a_9sejHafTLBMY9v0WBm7/s1600-h/tv_modern_family012.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxR6kYPZ3EgcObqYNJ1PaMJwF9uZvM6Jc7fqftBZDOd7_zgazNwJMAr9rK4VkG4Foc5XCjQGP1A9XOm86qvUWmN43aRdeni-tdqhuosiwkJttX2jMR8Kg0U5a_9sejHafTLBMY9v0WBm7/s320/tv_modern_family012.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389163610520467074" /></a><br /><div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I had my apprehensions about seeing “Al Bundy” back on television, but I decided to give this show a try. After simply watching the pilot, I was hooked. His new character’s bigotry and cultural incompetence is amusing and sadly reminds me of my own father. I haven’t been this excited about a cable show since Friends. Watching the fat, gay guy flail about theatrically is likely the high point of every episode. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Anyone that introduces their newly adopted Vietnamese baby, Lily, to the family by holding her above your head like Simba is alright with me. Similarly, any family that meets their new family member, then immediately questions an Asian child's ability to pronounce Lily is also alright with me. This let me know that I would never be able to go another week without watching this show on Hulu. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Honestly, I demand that you watch this show. Until then, watch the clip. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><object width="512" height="296"><param name="movie" value="http://www.hulu.com/embed/18GJA0SFCOiaQj_UAc5sLg"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.hulu.com/embed/18GJA0SFCOiaQj_UAc5sLg" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="512" height="296"></embed></object></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> ~Lauren</p> <!--EndFragment--> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-79900410238554408402009-10-01T08:00:00.000-04:002009-10-01T08:00:04.424-04:00Say What?! Mariah Carey<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8WPiGpsJB3HcOb4GRbK80GYdZVen0gLBJmENHSIvojNIdlCu2TYC9yIlJ7t1isPKRMRWkvWuL7ry4VyaLhwS6atv6Lu8AAlipGbzl7OxPuwIO3AOpOiWjCqKlpglCArUzf5Pe_q2-hwZ/s1600-h/mariah_carey+legs+insured+for+amazing+%241+billion.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8WPiGpsJB3HcOb4GRbK80GYdZVen0gLBJmENHSIvojNIdlCu2TYC9yIlJ7t1isPKRMRWkvWuL7ry4VyaLhwS6atv6Lu8AAlipGbzl7OxPuwIO3AOpOiWjCqKlpglCArUzf5Pe_q2-hwZ/s320/mariah_carey+legs+insured+for+amazing+%241+billion.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386645964395708658" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>"Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean, I'd love to be skinny like that but not with all those flies and death and stuff".</i></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I almost pooped a little after reading this. This is why celebrities need publicists... and this is why Mariah Carey's should be fired. There's no reason for this to have ever come to light. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The first sentence made me think that she's full of it. I refused to believe that she honestly cares about dying kids at all. Coincidentally, the last skinny kid with no future I looked at with tears in my eyes was her husband. I believe I was muttering the words, "Comedy is dead" as I lay in the fetal position watching Wild 'N Out. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Look on the bright side, Mariah. You have more in common with those starving kids than you realize. You both have little pot bellies and are painful to look at for extended periods of time. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">~Lauren</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-36932189951099953772009-09-30T08:00:00.003-04:002009-09-30T08:00:07.498-04:00Cheap Shots: Michelle Williams<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0rPwoV0mYPB5Dda-WWVoXw0qU-aKOn2qCj1oGBMEpcTvHB0sWl0IdxsAxuUmlpssywBIFV1818_jZpdNepH4IW3KfDs_wK25iGkMJx4nW92QH1zEsWnrFUNbYWnYqjo0ompus0rieW4D/s1600-h/michelle-williams-london-fashion-week-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 174px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0rPwoV0mYPB5Dda-WWVoXw0qU-aKOn2qCj1oGBMEpcTvHB0sWl0IdxsAxuUmlpssywBIFV1818_jZpdNepH4IW3KfDs_wK25iGkMJx4nW92QH1zEsWnrFUNbYWnYqjo0ompus0rieW4D/s320/michelle-williams-london-fashion-week-3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386640537617478498" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Destiny's Child's least pivotal member, Michelle Williams, climbed out of her coma just long enough to show the world why she's irrelevant. I'm not sure if that is a dress or her passport, but either way I want her dead. Judging by the back drop, she actually wore this dress to London's Fashion Week. No wonder everyone hates America. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Your fashion sense, much like your singing career, is depressing me. There is no need to continue to prove to us that you had no business in the spot light. We knew that from day one. You wonder why your singing parts in every song was less than 3 seconds... I wouldn't be surprised to hear they were seriously considering having you perform on tours via satellite. As seen above, when you're seen in real life, you're less than impressive. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">~Lauren</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-66676437268860262642009-09-29T08:00:00.001-04:002009-09-29T08:00:05.717-04:00Lauren's Free Advice: Wash Your Child<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMnxcoYkNqgWpyHwV5sV7XJMFIqZPxRpum6TjiLaaEozjoic1IKbh89Qv_1PDcF3btdN24Hm6P7fcQTmKwIgL6kpW5Z4sQ9_JynjnSEoFhHi-b-2FdlQY4mCNTVltHQBCjdwU-dUEwzOK/s1600-h/IMG_4669-2005.09.15-19.45.23.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMnxcoYkNqgWpyHwV5sV7XJMFIqZPxRpum6TjiLaaEozjoic1IKbh89Qv_1PDcF3btdN24Hm6P7fcQTmKwIgL6kpW5Z4sQ9_JynjnSEoFhHi-b-2FdlQY4mCNTVltHQBCjdwU-dUEwzOK/s320/IMG_4669-2005.09.15-19.45.23.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386621195512470034" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">People with children tend to get angry when I blog about parental flaws. I like to think that I write about such exaggerated issues that if it applies to you, you likely deserve the embarrassment. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While in high school, I had a teacher that had some of the most filthy children in the history of Earth. The finger paints from today's art project became next week's guessing game: Is that brown paint or did she just wipe her butt with her hand again? Some questions just shouldn't have to be asked.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One day, as this particular teacher walked to the on-site daycare for the teacher's kids, I heard her say "Wow... I can tell you haven't had your bath this week!" And whose fault is that?! Granted, I'm not a parent, so maybe I'm missing something... but I'm pretty sure bathing should happen a bit more often than once a week, no matter how old you are. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sorry to say it, but most kids are pretty gross. They lick things they shouldn't, eat stuff off the floor, and pick parts of their bodies that should go unexplored in public. Being a severe germaphobe, my best advice is to keep your dirty child away from me. I cannot be held responsible for force feeding your child Purrell after witnessing him eat a piece of furry candy off the sidewalk. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Let the hate mail begin.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">~Lauren</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-65950047703653711382009-09-28T08:49:00.003-04:002009-09-28T09:02:48.671-04:00Our Entertainment Review A Conversation Regarding Cougar Town<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gz3VVdgiHVX4u9377HM2iFa_pZ8TqqdAde02UmQo8mPTBWGD1yaPM7ZoiKkadIpMacu8Q-NhQe0gvscbfLLY383TJtF-x3yRVRhAtgQB6TnwxDtMdtlGIe5fcyR_4GUYoTXdOrME1K5v/s1600-h/mellaur.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386501967193061698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 238px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gz3VVdgiHVX4u9377HM2iFa_pZ8TqqdAde02UmQo8mPTBWGD1yaPM7ZoiKkadIpMacu8Q-NhQe0gvscbfLLY383TJtF-x3yRVRhAtgQB6TnwxDtMdtlGIe5fcyR_4GUYoTXdOrME1K5v/s320/mellaur.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>LAUREN: "I'm watching this random show Cougar Town with Courtney Cox... since I don't have cable, I just watch <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">hulu</span></span>. Courtney's character is 40 something and just got divorced. Her single friend convinces her to go to the bar with her... <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Courtney</span> meets this much younger guy, and after a few drinks says "you're hot as balls!". She later freaks out and leaves him at the bar because she realizes how old she is...<br />she's at home and hears the doorbell ring. It's the young guy that she was talking to @ the bar. She looks behind him and sees her extremely drunk friend in a car and the friend yells "Hey, you left that at the bar, bitch!!"<br />Honest to God, I think that was a foreshadowing into the future... I say inappropriate things like "you're hot as balls" and you call me a bitch every chance you get... There's no need for me to mention it's more than likely you would be drunk as well."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>MELISSA: "....that oddly sounds like something I would do....but then I would have to sleep over your house while your banging out the hot piece that I dragged to your house without your permission....because he drove my car there and I no longer have the luxury of drinking and driving...<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">at least</span> not registered vehicles."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>LAUREN: Yes, we need to make this happen. It's scary, this chick even kinda looks like you... she was just running and said "can we stop? It feels like my boobs are trying to kill me" (another thing you'd say.)</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>MELISSA: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Im</span></span> not gonna lie...that sounds <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">alot</span></span> like my life. We need to head back to Maryland and make this happen.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>*LATER ON THAT DAY AS A RESULT OF MELISSA BEING PLAGUED WITH <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">CURIOSITY</span> AND HAVING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO IN NC</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>MELISSA: "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ok</span></span>, I am watching <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Cougar Town</span> and I am entertained...slightly annoyed but none the less. Every character other than the female neighbor and the hot divorced guy across the street can pretty much only be tolerated in small doses. I would likely agree... to marry the male slut across the street but <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">that's</span> solely as a result of his sarcastic quick wit, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Olympic</span> sexual appetite, and unwillingness to behave like an adult. I think I am in love."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>LAUREN: "I liked the female neighbor the drunk friend and the divorced guy. I agree... he was really hot and I think he deserves my underwear balled in the corner of his living room. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Courtney</span> cox was tolerable at best, but mostly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">bcuz</span></span> i enjoy moms acting more like teens then their kids. on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tv</span></span>... not real life. I'm not gonna lie.... I'm excited about the potential of this life.."</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-26920123685085898942009-09-24T20:02:00.010-04:002009-09-24T21:35:38.390-04:00My Concern: A Dr. With A Conscience<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MlKpPhy9tEMKQTZmdDPGuJwMTFGkc8mfONVBDCcFDfU7kvljU0YzKmfSYsvgTK-EWp58wXOnPHpsQO4QQESm9rCAHaVs3ybsdmR4HB37jcvrMinPgmTq2KsDQd_SGufrnqarVE0oFUcz/s1600-h/mellaur.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385205505162634002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MlKpPhy9tEMKQTZmdDPGuJwMTFGkc8mfONVBDCcFDfU7kvljU0YzKmfSYsvgTK-EWp58wXOnPHpsQO4QQESm9rCAHaVs3ybsdmR4HB37jcvrMinPgmTq2KsDQd_SGufrnqarVE0oFUcz/s320/mellaur.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Every Wednesday it is a weekly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">occurrence</span> of mine to call Lauren and force her to comb through her mind in an effort to find something that might concern me. Believe me this is not a small feat to accomplish. I oddly care about very little. I believe this stems from me being amused by so much. How can I really be concerned about a subject that I mock profusely? In this lies my greatest dilemma as a writer. Yes, even greater than my inability to use the proper amount of commas in any given post, is my inability to find something "concerning" to write about. Last night Lauren was kind enough to stumble me onto the following.<br /><br />Americans are outraged by the fact that the Obama Administration plans to overturn the Conscience Clause, which is a "statutory provision that permits individuals or institutions to refuse to provide or to pay for medical procedures on the basis of religious or moral beliefs". This basically means that if your doctor has a moral issue with your chosen type of care he is in no way obligated to adhere to your medical demands. In fact the entire facility, in which he practices medicine, is entitled to opt out of fulfilling your medical needs and/or desires.<br /><br />While many Americans are outraged I find myself hopeful. A conscience has absolutely no place in a medical field. Americans have enough restrictions regarding health care. The majority of patients already have to consider <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">co pays</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">deductibles</span>, specialist rates, routine care restrictions, referrals, and in/out of network coverage. Isn't that enough? I find it highly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">problematic</span> that in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">addition</span> to all that I have to fret over <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">whether</span> or not my lady doctor is an avid mass attendee. In order to ensure that she is willing to perform the type of procedure that guarantees my month long dating mishap doesn't turn into a tragically epic romance involving carpool lanes and sordid affairs.<br /><br />Who cares if the doctor doesn't agree with my chosen method of birth control being a bi-yearly tune up that leaves my insides as barren as a "Mollie," which by the way is a female mule. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">That's</span> my poor decision making at work. It isn't his call. He gave up his right to make moral objections to medical procedures the day he took the Hippocratic Oath, vowing to provide the best care he can and respecting the rights of his patients. Or at least he should have.</div><div></div><div><br />Why does he get a moral get out of job free card, when lawyers don't. Lawyers have to hold their conscience at bay and adhere to their clients wishes, provided that their wishes are law abiding. They have to hush their concerns, ignore their "better judgement," and perform their assignments to the best of their abilities. Their job depends on it. Why should Doctors be any different?<br /><br />I can only hope that the Obama Administration is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">successful</span> at overturning this as quickly as possible. Until then, when selecting a physician I suppose I will have to follow up my routine credential questions with asking them to divulge their stances on baptism, limbo, the holy trinity, and unclean meats just to ensure I can <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">receive</span> adequate medical care. Ridiculous.</div><div>~Melissa</div><div></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-44070175092770530442009-09-24T08:00:00.002-04:002011-02-19T06:03:31.430-05:00My Concern- Chronic Pregnancy Scares<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNKYjXnuZJnQUoSYejUhd6H3WoOxzKvEHJg81QM3L6AvhYo1ILy6Ub-4kViTMpTgSN_WpAljDlCON6RgGnTbQrzdE7Pbn8oom_ff_AMaID1hJQmbXNKAZCIVEiDTmROYl56Yf5OlstAbi/s1600-h/b157470256.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 298px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBNKYjXnuZJnQUoSYejUhd6H3WoOxzKvEHJg81QM3L6AvhYo1ILy6Ub-4kViTMpTgSN_WpAljDlCON6RgGnTbQrzdE7Pbn8oom_ff_AMaID1hJQmbXNKAZCIVEiDTmROYl56Yf5OlstAbi/s320/b157470256.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384831545943691842" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none">I think we can all remember a pep talk you had to pretend to believe in order to keep a friend from throwing herself down a flight of stairs. I think most females, myself included, have been on either side of that pep talk. But the other extreme of this very normal situation is having your monthly period come as a complete shock to you every month. If instead of running for the bottle of Midol and a gallon of ice cream, you're popping bottles of Moet toasting to another dodged bullet, you're not doing something right. If your relationship is better measured in pregnancy scares than in years, it's time for a change. What can you say to a friend like this? Anything is better then the typical rolling of the eyes as you nudge their pack of birth control pills towards them suggestively.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none">I've experienced the painful reminder of having to take birth control pills daily, despite going through a sexual spell drier than the Sahara. But I have to admit it's better than having a child I'd likely have to send to a sweat shop in order to pay for diapers. If all else fails, make the Plan B pill your best friend. At least this best friend will be able to offer you more than the empty promise of "Don't worry, I'll babysit on weekends".</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div><div style="text-align: justify;">~Lauren</div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-89968857656214053462009-09-23T08:26:00.007-04:002009-09-23T22:43:20.911-04:00Cheap Shots Khloe<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VMmRi0U_nfVtBbepKssiWFB3VfMvHdR4-XrTyDbt3M4zOTLFOAmy-kU-g7L6d7x6NEgNgJekG1DBgzpdFLw6DQOZ7Znvnw28e_kBvwu6pSfFQKuCC6vouUgK3qFxB3jgBoInKkvNi7_6/s1600-h/mellaur.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384834627165058002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6VMmRi0U_nfVtBbepKssiWFB3VfMvHdR4-XrTyDbt3M4zOTLFOAmy-kU-g7L6d7x6NEgNgJekG1DBgzpdFLw6DQOZ7Znvnw28e_kBvwu6pSfFQKuCC6vouUgK3qFxB3jgBoInKkvNi7_6/s320/mellaur.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I was waiting for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Khloe</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kardashian</span> to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">disappoint</span> me. I guess I just hoped it would be in a less tragic manner. Let me start off my saying that any woman over the age of twenty that dives head first into a premature short-term engagement needs to be hung in the streets and left lifelessly as an example of what not to do.<br /><br />Really <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Khloe</span>? One whole month. Its almost as if she proposed to the first guy that upon meeting her didn't introduce himself then immediately ask "so...where's K<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">im</span>?" I swear to God <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Khloe</span> if your not pregnant I won't know what to think. Proposing to or agreeing to marry the first guy in years that has been willing to ball you out excessively just isn't good decision making. Lauren had such high hopes for you. Always the realist, I knew you would annihilate your humorous level headed image at some point. I just hoped it would be via a short run fling with a notorious bad boy, a sex tape or two, or maybe even by pooping out a bastard child like your other sister. You know, something I could excuse or even condone.<br />~Melissa</div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02843829468795056995noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1032177861234052236.post-12765045077462724002009-09-23T05:45:00.000-04:002009-09-23T05:54:40.840-04:00Cheap Shots- Randy Jackson<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLAyJQKF8vMfW_QRtsLQ0KvZoJiaMXRROiT30EJY3L8KQ0W85z-tKL31ibHQMyE2JC8qIAup_zxrPwjQVWAadUvksj6vRmzLFSZjw5Y-g807Dn5J3Hl7nflaAzfFpbbjbVFN75-5ATwxT/s1600-h/1919882265_5535913541.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLAyJQKF8vMfW_QRtsLQ0KvZoJiaMXRROiT30EJY3L8KQ0W85z-tKL31ibHQMyE2JC8qIAup_zxrPwjQVWAadUvksj6vRmzLFSZjw5Y-g807Dn5J3Hl7nflaAzfFpbbjbVFN75-5ATwxT/s320/1919882265_5535913541.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384369002342445234" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Seriously Randy? It's not bad enough that you constantly slap us in the face with your attempts at being young by abusing the word "dawg", but now you have to dress like you're 17 too? I'm ashamed of you; of this I am certain. The only thing I am not certain about it what is worse: the bubbles on your shirt or the bubble I can clearly see in your trousers. Of all the things I'd love to learn, discovering that you hang slightly to the right is at the button of the list. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You may know music, but adult fashion is clearly a complete stranger to you. I hope whoever you're talking to on the phone in this picture is advising you to kill yourself. Heed their advice... quickly. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">~Lauren</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410668756853712502noreply@blogger.com4