Burnout... it's a funny thing

I've decided to plagiarize myself today. For the three followers of my other blog, Oedipal Odyssey, the list below may sound somewhat familiar. For the rest of you, it'll be brand new. Haha! Tricked you. This fall has been ridiculously and awesomely productive for me. However, I've noticed lately that I'm displaying signs of burnout (may be slightly embellished for dramatic effect):

1) Hearing Christmas music at Home Depot while buying our tree made me cry (true story).

2) Someone walking too slowly in front of me on a sidewalk with no room to pass made me cry (it was that or whack them in the head with my gym bag).

3) A repeat of Modern Family when I was expecting a new episode made me cry (no one likes repeats, NO ONE. Unless it's last year's Family Guy Christmas Special.)

4) Homicidal internal dialogue because I'm convinced everyone but me is a complete idiot (self-explanatory).

5) Waking up tired (no good can come of this).

6) Don't even get me started on those SPCA commercials. (Pause) Too late...

7) Buying the box set of all five seasons of Six Feet Under because I'm convinced I can't live without them (don't judge, at least not until you've seen them. Then, you'll understand.)

I'm a little f*cked up, people. Luckily, I have a long Christmas break looming, during which I've banned myself from any form of writing. So, yeah, this blog will be idle for a couple weeks. I know, I know. How can I DO this to you? Well, the ground must lie fallow for a while. As it stands, my fields have been sucked dry by the equivalent of industrial agriculture with all its attendant nastiness.

So, for the next ten days or so, I will become a sloth-like creature, feeding on highly saturated fats and cotton candy TV, replenishing my creative juices. This can only mean one thing. In 2012, I'm gonna rock that shit. 

Happy Holidays my Sassies :-)

xoxo,
Sassy Girl

They did it! They finally did it!

Almost a month after it opened, I finally saw Breaking Dawn, Part 1, the fourth installment of the Twilight teen vampire saga. I'm slightly dismayed to admit that I kind of enjoyed it. Ok, maybe a little more than "kind of". Or was it the popcorn doused in extra butter after my stepdaughter found the "do-it-yourself" butter dispenser... but I digress.

I'm still convinced that if you haven't read the books and attempt to watch these movies, you'll be bored out of your mind and wonder what the big deal is. Having read them fills out the missing details which must, necessarily, be omitted from the films due to time constraints and short attention spans. That being said, apart from the first movie, which was all teenage angst and longing (I'm a longer (is that a word?) anyway, I live for that shit.), I think this one might be my favorite so far.

It was beautifully shot in lush locations and Kristen Stewart didn't annoy the crap out of me. Taylor Lautner also had some nice moments, and his shirt was on during most of the movie so I wasn't simply blinded by his ridiculously defined, smooth chest. The kid actually pulled off some decent acting. Robert Pattinson took a back seat in this installment. Apart from Stewart's character, I think Lautner had more screen time than Pattinson who was relegated to the background, looking worried (constipated) in most scenes.

There were some great special effects where Kristen Stewart's character was concerned. (SPOILER ALERT). She basically gets the life sucked out of her when she gets pregnant with a vampire/human half-breed, and they did a good job of making her look like a completely anorexic pregnant chick. It was gross, ergo, successful.

I know, I know. You're all wondering when I'll get to the good stuff - the sex. Well, it was... meh. It was obvious the sex scenes and the violent birth were edited with a PG rating in mind. They were both underwhelming. But I've been ruined by True Blood which is basically soft porn and has set the bar extremely high when it comes to on-screen supernatural being / human sex.

My girl Anna Kendrick, who's in the movie for all of 10 seconds, still manages to steal every scene she's in. Love her. So does Michael Sheen, who plays one of the Volturi (bad ass vamps) in a "secret" scene that only appears after the first set of credits at the end of the movie. So if you go see it, don't leave once the credits start rolling. Wait it out people, there's some important info in that scene that sets up the sequel.

What do we have to look forward to in the next and final installment? What I hope will be hot vampire sex since Bella (Stewart's character) finally turns into a vampire so she and Edward (Pattinson) can have unbridled, damned creature sex, and Pattinson can stop looking like he's constantly trying to take a shit.

Talkin' smack... they make it so easy

Michelle Duggar miscarried her 20th child. Let's consider that a message from Mother Nature: the planet is already overpopulated - any more children from you is not a gift from God but a curse from Satan who would love nothing more than to watch humanity destroy itself. So stop poppin' out more mouths to feed. Your bulging brood is already stressing me out.

Angelina Jolie admits in an interview that she doesn't really have any female friends. She says she's pretty much homebound and only really talks to Brad. What about her brother? You know, the one she open-mouthed kissed at the Oscars? They must be close. Unless he's ticked that she only makes out with Brad now.

Jesse James recently dissed Sandra Bullock on his show American Chopper: The Build-Off, saying of his marriage to Bullock, "I became a big shot and married some Hollywood actress". Well, you can take the boy out of the trailer park but you can't take the trailer park out of the boy. He also cheated on his newest ex-fiancé, Kat Von D. Jesse, you suck. Go away.

Now that Jennifer Aniston is hooked up with Justin Theroux, apparently Pippa Middleton is the new poster girl for sad, single, filthy rich, world is at your fingertips, everyone adores you girl. Yeah, I feel really bad for her.

Kris Humphries, Kim Kardashian's ex-husband, is worried about his basketball career. His contract with the New York Nets wasn't renewed at the end of last season and he's looking for a job. Well Kris, when you go slumming, there are consequences.

Lindsay Lohan will be on the cover of Playboy. Naturally, that would be the next step for a washed up has-been with no career to speak of.

Remember Sleepless in Seattle?

You know when it's been a while since you've seen a show you really love and then you watch it again, and it's even better than you remember? It's been months since we finished watching Season 4 of 30 Rock. We started Season 5 a couple days ago. "It was like coming home... only to no home I'd ever known... I was just taking her hand to help her out of a car and I knew. It was like... magic." Ok, that's a quote from Sleepless in Seattle. What? I get distracted sometimes. 

Needless to say, my unrequited love affair with Tina Fey was reignited after months of dormancy. This show, there are no words for how clever, funny and smart it is. Oh, I guess there are: clever, funny and smart. Heh.

I want Tina to adopt me. Sure, I'm a grown child, and it's not the same as getting an infant, blah, blah, blah... but I promise to behave. No attempted arson or dependence on prescription meds. Nope. Not this child. Just unadulterated adoration. 24/7.

On another note, I was completely shocked and dismayed upon hearing the news of Ali and Roberto's breakup. For those not familiar with the Bachelor franchise, you may be asking yourselves: Who the f*ck are Ali and Roberto? Well, Ali was The Bachelorette, after being a contestant on Jake Pavelka's season of The Bachelor and ditching the show because she had to get back to her job (puh-lease). She was on her way to being one of the final three! Actually, I blame her abrupt departure for the whole Jake and Vienna debacle. Stupid bitch.

Anyhoo, I guess she decided that "oh-so important" job wasn't really that meaningful because she returned as The Bachelorette with her very own bevy of men to choose from. And she did. She chose Roberto. And they seemed happy. I really thought they would make it. I had hopes and dreams. And now, they're completely dashed.

They just couldn't make it work. She felt his conservative values were clashing with her need for an active social life and career. They had different interests and began to drift apart. Imagine that. You spend six weeks or so in a completely artificial environment with someone and you think you know them. Then they go all "real" on your ass once you've been kicked out of the Bachelor mansion. Unf*ckingbelievable.

Gossip Girl is full of B.S.

The past few weeks have felt like a hike through a desert, barefoot, in a string bikini, with no sunblock. The desert signifying the sheer lack of good TV programming. The only shows we've been able to look forward to lately are Dexter, Hung and Modern Family (when it's not a repeat). In a week that consists of seven days, three TV shows ain't gonna cut it.

However, last night I stumbled upon a cool, refreshing oasis. 1) Season 5 of 30 Rock on DVD. 2) Season 1 of Gossip Girl, also on DVD. No, I hadn't seen one episode of Gossip Girl until last night. Yes, I occasionally live under a rock. I like it there. It's quiet and Fox News can't get a signal.

Anyhoo, there are pivotal moments in one's life, when you realize nothing will ever be quite the same, that things have somehow been forever altered. One of these moments occurred last night when I was introduced to Gossip Girl. They had me at B.S.

There are four seasons of this show on DVD. Now I know what I'll be doing over my Christmas vacation. Putting a dent in our couch, watching a marathon of Gossip Girl. I'll probably forego personal hygiene and a proper diet, in favour of greasy hair, coffee and anything with cheese in it. Eating healthy takes time, time I could dedicate to watching vacuous socialites and their petty lives.

I had lofty goals for my holiday break: read a good novel; do yoga; write. That's pretty much all shot to hell now. How can I possibly concentrate on that when there's rich bitch porn to watch? Even the boys are bitches on this show. Resistance is futile.

I've only seen two episodes but it was love at first watch. I just know it'll last forever, or until the show ends, whichever comes first. 

xoxo,
Sassy Girl

Talking out of my ass

I've been retardedly busy lately, people. Yes, I used the word "retardedly". I know it's not politically correct but you know what? F*ck that. It's the word that best describes my current situation. I've been writing like a fiend, working on various plays, which explains why I've only been posting about once a week on this blog.

This is not to say I don't value you, my readers. I do. But my love is proportional to your overt adoration. Like any artist. And I've been busy playing Angry Birds on my iPhone. Don't judge. Every writer needs a break, or at least a valid excuse to procrastinate. 

I came across a funny article the other day. It stated that people who watch Fox News are less informed than people who don't watch the news at all. This is why I don't watch the news.

Demi Moore filed for divorce from Ashton Kutcher. I know. You're thinking: "Bitch, where have you been, that's so last week." I simply mention it because I knew this would happen. I knew it as soon as Demi posted pictures of herself on Twitter in a bikini and shades in her bathroom. Only a desperate woman, aware of her partner's wandering affections, would do such a thing. 

I went shopping last week for "non-moo moo" home clothes. Home clothes are what I immediately change into when returning home from work, 'cause let's face it, tight pants and bras with underwire gotta go at some point in the day. 

My boyfriend was lamenting the fact that my home clothes were somewhat... ample. I believe his words were "tent-like". So, out of the goodness of my heart, accompanied by said boyfriend, we went shopping for home clothes that actually fit, and much to his delight, were somewhat form-fitting. 

The only downside is that now I continually get couch groped. I'm innocently ensconced in our couch, watching TV and the boyfriend starts groping me 'cause I got the hot home clothes now. But if I start posting photos on Twitter, positioned provocatively in my new hip-hugging sweats, you know there's trouble in paradise.

I almost got run over by a car a few weeks ago while I was cycling home. My life did not flash before my eyes. A couple weeks later, I was trying to Shazam a song on the radio while driving. I then understood why cyclists get run over by cars.

No one needs a 2.5 million dollar bra

A few reasons why movements like Occupy Wall Street exist:

1 - Model Miranda Kerr will grace the catwalk in a 2.5 million dollar bra at a Victoria's Secret fashion show.

2 - The demise of Kim Kardashian's marriage is getting more media attention than both the Afghan and Iraq wars.

3 - NBA players are squabbling over their multi-million dollar salaries, refusing to play, while the unemployment rate in the US sits at approximately 10%.

These are the types of things that really irk me. Who the hell needs a 2.5 million dollar bra? I'm guessing it'll be worn once for a fashion show, then shelved or put on display somewhere, and that 2.5 million will have been an absolute waste. 2.5 million dollars that could have been invested in education, or given to a charitable organization or used to create jobs.

Everywhere I turn, there is mention of Kim Kardashian's failed marriage. Now, I'm not immune to reality TV. I watch some pretty trashy stuff on occasion. I get it. It's great mind-numbing fluff. That being said, media coverage of these so-called celebrities should not overtake actual current events. 

When the vast majority of people are debating whether Kim's marriage was staged or real rather than focusing on the fiscal future of a precarious capitalist system gone awry, and the disintegration of the very social fabric that brought the US to greatness, there's a problem. That this family of vacuous bimbos rakes in millions for displaying their moronic lives on TV is simply immoral. 

Then we have the NBA players. Bitching because they want to make 21 million instead of just 20 million. How much is enough? This is greed gone wild. 

Chelsea Handler said it very eloquently when she appeared on Piers Morgan Tonight recently. The wealthy have a responsibility to share their good fortune with others, to help others rise up along with them, and the more you have, the greater your responsibility is to do this.

A number of celebrities have publicly stated that they would pay more taxes, following Warren Buffet's lead. However, it's up to the US government to change its tax policies so this can happen.

The Occupy movement has certainly brought the legitimate concerns of a middle class stretched too thin to the forefront of public discourse. But will it have any long lasting effects? Will regulations be put in place to govern the activities of Wall Street? Will the salaries of corporate CEOs, professional  athletes and celebrities be reduced, or will they at least be required to pay their fair share of taxes? Will the US government start working for its people rather than the corporations who currently own it? 

The status quo cannot continue indefinitely. For any substantive change to occur, America's citizens need to re-frame their priorities, and ask themselves some serious questions about what kind of future they want for their country. 

The US is in a grossly decadent phase, much like Rome was, before it fell. History can be ignored but it doesn't change the facts. Much like the captain of the Titanic, believing his ship to be invincible, it is that very belief that will sink the US unless its citizenry vigilantly dedicates itself to taking back the country that is rightfully theirs. 

Buff Buffy

Take a good look at the woman in the photo below and guess how old she is...

What are you thinking? 45, 50 ish? That's Buffy Sainte-Marie and she's 70 years old. 70! This woman is my new hero. I'm determined to look that good and be in that great a shape at 70. To find out how she keeps lookin' this fine, click here.

Now, you may be wondering: who the hell is Buffy Sainte-Marie? Well, she's a Canadian Cree singer-songwriter, musician, composer, visual artist, educator, pacifist, and social activist. In other words, she kicks ass. She was even blacklisted by the Lyndon B. Johnson administration for being a vocal advocate of the peace movement. 

What I love most about this photo and the accompanying article is the flouting of stereotypes about aging. For instance, there is a commonly held belief that, after a certain age, we should expect our bodies to start falling apart and resign ourselves to bad hairstyles and the use of canes and walkers. To this, I say: F*ck that! I'm in much better shape now than I ever was in my teens and twenties, and it's only gonna get better since I became a gym bitch about six months ago.

I was definitely active during my pre-gym days but adding lunch hour workouts to my current physical activity regime really upped the ante. There are signs that my body is aging but only superficial ones. I feel like I'm getting younger, and rediscovering my sense of play. My existential angst is waning with every passing year, giving way to childlike wonder.

What I also love about the photo is that, although Buffy looks f*cking amazing, she doesn't look like she's had work done. Like Meryl Streep. Yeah, we know these ladies have been around for decades and are not what is generally considered to be "young" anymore but they look great and still have an ineffable glow about them. In other words, they don't look like circus freaks desperately trying to hold on to some warped idea of youth. They seem to embrace their advancing age with verve.

I suspect the pharmaceutical and cosmetic surgery industries have a lot to gain by brainwashing people into thinking that, by a certain age, they'll need a nip and a tuck and some pills. If a man can run a marathon at 100 (it's been done, look it up), then we need to re-frame what it means to age. I, for one, will not be slowing down anytime soon. I plan to be hitting the slopes and mountain bike trails well into my nineties, if not beyond.

When are they gonna do it already?

You know when you don't have sex or aren't allowed to have sex and then you obsess about it? I sense this is what's happening with our collective fixation on the sex scene in the next installment of the Twilight saga: Breaking Dawn, part I. It's all over the gossipsphere: how the film almost got an R-rating; shooting the scene; the natural chemistry between Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart, blah, blah, blah....

I, of course, will be seeing the film to judge for myself whether it lives up to all the hype or not. But frankly, with so much attention on it, we're being set up for disappointment. The religious undertones so evident in the books have now got everyone whipped into a frenzy over the "honeymoon" scenes. It's funny how certain prevalent religions don't really get that the more you restrict it, the more people want it, and the more twisted they get about it.

I mean, just look at the Catholic Church. Do you think all those priests started out as molesters? Probably not. But when you can't have sex and can't masturbate, you get seriously warped. Why does the Church not understand this? It's basic human nature. Or the prevalence of the naughty Catholic school girl fantasy? Come on people, this isn't rocket science.

If Bella and Edward had just done it already we wouldn't be so focused on one single moment but instead absorbed in the whole story. As it stands, the only question on anyone's mind in the movies or even reading the books is: when are they gonna do it? Everything else seems to fade into the background.

If you're not familiar with the books (SPOILER ALERT), Edward refuses to have sex with Bella until they're married, which they do, at 18. Then, miraculously, she gets knocked up, at 18, with a vampire/human hybrid. Then, at childbirth, Bella is turned into a vampire, otherwise she wouldn't have survived since her human body was ripped to shreds by her unique progeny. And they live happily ever after, having crazy awesome vampire sex for eternity.

There's that sex thing again. I'm certainly not against a healthy expression of sexuality but this Twilight thing is so obviously religious as to be offensive to us sane people. I'm not advocating unbridled promiscuity, however, the notion that one should be married before having sex is antiquated, and has caused countless untold tragedies among Catholic youth. (I cite the Catholic religion because I used to be one of its faithful followers.)

The Twilight books were some of the lamest I've ever read but they've undeniably struck a chord with legions of diehard fans fanatically defending the Edward/Bella love story. However, the very fact that this tale has so polarized its fans and naysayers leads me to believe that one should be wary of any kind of religious messaging, even when it's masked within fictional storytelling.

Occupy Hollywood

As I'm sure you all know, there is a huge grassroots movement spreading throughout the US that originated in NYC, called Occupy Wall Street. I, for one, am glad to see this. The American populace is finally rising up against these shameless corporate crooks who basically bankrupted the middle class, but took their tax dollars to save their sorry asses, and are now back to making record profits, while that same middle class struggles to survive.

I read a great article on the Huffington Post by Jo Piazza stating why it's time to Occupy Hollywood and target celebrities who rake in ludicrous amounts of money for "entertaining" us. She states that most celebrities are on a higher pay scale than most CEOs, surgeons and lawyers. They are in a class all their own - the overpaid and overblown.

We, as the consumer, are not entirely innocent. No one has boycotted these celebrities in protest of their completely disproportional salaries. No one has refused to pay the thousands of dollars that people like Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi, of Jersey Shore fame now commands for speaking engagements (that's an oxymoron, if I ever heard one). 

I was perturbed by the apparent dumbing down of America to the point of simply accepting that the Kardashian family rakes in millions in a single year. And for what? Airing their dirty laundry on TV? Who are these people? And why do we care?

Sure, we can probably all admit we have a secret weakness when it comes to reality television or such and such a celebrity but the reality of a growing number of Americans is forcing us (even us Canadians) to reevaluate where our values lie. We cannot simply continue within the status quo.

Michael  Moore appeared for a full hour on Piers Morgan Tonight this week, along with a live studio audience. Listening to the stories of these average Americans was heartbreaking. University graduates with Masters' degrees, crushing debt and no job; middle class folk behind in their mortgage and bill payments, struggling to make ends meet; people working well into their 70s to be able to afford health care. This is more than just "not ok"; it's criminal.

There is enough wealth on this planet to feed, clothe and shelter every human being on it. Why is the equitable distribution of wealth such an unacceptable concept? What are the obscenely wealthy so afraid of? They would have much less to fear with a general population that is thriving and content.

One way this incredibly lopsided distribution of wealth will change is if the consumer changes, and demands that the entertainment industry cease to pay these ridiculous amounts of money to "stars", and adopt a more reasonable pay scale, especially for such luminaries as Kim Kardashian and Snooki. And if they don't, we'll simply boycott the celebrities. 

We seem to forget, the consumer holds all the power, not the celebrity, and not the entertainment industry. Without fans, the celebrity is nothing, just another face in the crowd. It's time to wield that power, people.

Instead of paying some celebrity a gazillion dollars to appear in some mediocre Hollywood flick, how about paying them less and reinvesting the rest into creating jobs for people who desperately need them, and maybe throw in some benefits too. Is that really too much to ask?

The delinquent yogini

This weekend, I'll be attending a yoga workshop with a world-renowned teacher focused on detoxification. I'm pretty excited about the whole thing but I suspect my delinquent yogini ways will be challenged. 

I'm guessing there'll be discussions on healthy eating (i.e. no meat, caffeine or sugar). If I attempted to remove these things from my diet, I would be suicidal. I was once treated by a naturopath and had to completely cut out dairy, caffeine and sugar for a month. I felt great physically but I was cranky, obsessed with food and any capacity for joy had all but evaporated. That must be how supermodels feel. Now I know why Naomi Campbell throws phones at people.

Life without that sweet, warm elixir known as coffee would be, quite frankly, unbearable. The promise of that first, piping hot cup of coffee is pretty much the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. Call it a soothing ritual, one that enables me to face the day ahead, and gives me a cool caffeine buzz. Hells ya.

Then there's the whole meat thing. I've tried to be a vegetarian but it never felt right. Or, more precisely, I didn't feel right when not regularly consuming meat. It's like something was off kilter. I was gassy and lethargic - a lethal mix since I couldn't even run away from my own heinous farts. 

Obviously, I don't condone the needless suffering of animals. Those raised for consumption should be treated in the most humane way possible. That being said, a Saturday morning without bacon is like Cher without Sonny (oh wait, they broke up, and he's dead - ok, bad analogy, but you get the drift).

I also drink, as in alcohol. I remember in my yoga teacher training, we were told drinking alcohol or consuming any substance that could alter our mood or perception of reality was like a "shortcut" to enlightenment, and by shortcut I mean "cheating". Instead of earning enlightenment through meditation, yoga and consuming only foods that purify the body, intoxicants "trick" the mind into unearned altered states. Well, I'm lazy and I like the taste of wine. 

I'm sure we'll also learn some yoga sequences over the weekend that help detox the body which is good since I'll probably have bacon breath and be a bit hungover.

Say it ain't so Joe... (I don't know who Joe is, it's a saying, just roll with it)

There I was, innocently perusing the Huffington Post when I came across not one, but two harrowing headlines: 1) a photo of Family Guy characters with the heading: Ending Soon? and 2) '30 Rock' may end this season. In the words of Elaine Benes, from the infamous Seinfeld episode The Contest: "Okay, you tryin' to hurt me? You tryin' to hurt me? You're tryin' to injure me, right? You're tryin' to hurt me..."

Seth MacFarlane has mentioned that there would still be a Family Guy movie every few years  instead of a TV series, but still. What about those years in between movie releases? I get that TV shows have a certain shelf life, and some do pass their expiration date. However, I don't feel that Family Guy has reached that point. 

I was kinda hoping it would be like the Simpsons, seemingly lasting forever. I want to say I understand where Seth is coming from, since change is inevitable and we need to embrace it but if I'm truly honest... f*ck that shit! You can't take away my weekly dose of Family Guy! What will I DO? 

It's the only antidote to political correctness, right-leaning religious fanatics, impotent journalism, broken democracy and vapid entertainment. In other words, it's a necessity to true democratic discourse. It's an anthropological record of 21st Century social mores. Are those enough fancy words strung together to sound like a seriously pondered argument? Good. I have no idea what they mean but they sound intelligent. 

Like that wasn't enough trauma for one day, I find out 30 Rock may be nearing its conclusion. I worship at the altar of Tina Fey. The very thought that this show might end is inconceivable. Why can't it go on indefinitely? I know Tina's had another kid, and Alec Baldwin would like to pursue other projects but c'mon people, you can't leave us in the lurch. 

You can't shower us with your brilliance every week, then just walk away. That's cruel. I mean, if there were other prospects out there, 30 Rock's absence might not be such a frightening thought and, like a break-up, it's always easier when a rebound is lined up, you know? But it ain't a "great comedy" buffet out there, if you get my drift. Shows of this caliber are rare which is why we cling so obsessively to them.

If you're going to produce socially-relevant, jaw-droppingly clever, thigh-slapping, laughter-inducing material, you should resign yourself to the fact that you can never, ever quit.

Fun things to do when experiencing rage and despair

I've been under some serious emotional strain lately dealing with... difficult people. It hasn't been pretty. I left half a lemon in my desk drawer instead of putting it in the fridge. I haven't been on Facebook for like, a week. My boyfriend's giving me pep talks every night. It's f*cked up. So, I've been thinking of a few things that might be fun to do and may help me feel better...

1 - get completely smashed while watching the three Twilight movies on a continuous loop

2 - write a heartfelt letter to my Member of Parliament (that's the equivalent of a Congress rep for my American readers), asking him why the sun has stopped shining in my heart, and could he please get back to me ASAP otherwise I may drown in a pool of my own tears

3 - start my own version of America's Next Top Model - I would get to be Tyra Banks.

4 - get a shirt made with New Hampshire's motto Live free or die and wear it every day

5 - drink five caffeinated Venti Starbucks lattés in a row then try to meditate

6 - switch to a bacon-only diet

7 - adopt a pet rock, adorn it with a blue rhinestone collar, name it Wilson and bring it everywhere I go

8 - eat a "family-size" bag of Cheetos in one sitting

9 - write a dissertation on the benefits of slovenliness

10 - find out how many cosmos I can drink before passing out

The one where I realize I'm a TV whore, and not a high-priced one

My vampire fetish has been well documented throughout this blog, on many occasions. Therefore, it's only logical to think that any movie or TV program featuring these bloodsucking fiends would appeal to me. I would dispute this claim except that I was most recently proven wrong, again.

I think I have standards but then something happens that reminds me that, indeed, I do not. Take, for instance, my recent immersion in the teen TV drama Vampire Diaries. It's basically One Tree Hill with vampires. And like One Tree Hill, I was very skeptical at first. Watching the pilot episodes of both these shows was like slowly shoving a fork in my eye. I did not have the faith. My stepdaughter encouraged me to hang in there. So I did.

Last year, we ended up watching six seasons of One Tree Hill in five weeks. There are about 22 episodes per season, at approximately 42 minutes each. You do the math. Once I had made it past the first five or six episodes of the first season of One Tree Hill, I was lapping that shit up like nobody's business.

The same holds true for Vampire Diaries. If you have the fortitude to get past those first few episodes, and the feeling you're simply watching an Abercrombie and Fitch commercial, the storylines, albeit not overly original, suck you in. The layers start to get peeled away, one by one, and you find yourself actually looking forward to the next episode, until it dawns on you - you're hooked.

It can't be any worse than watching America's Next Top Model. Actually, it's pretty much the same show,  with the addition of male actors.

Breaking Bad breakdown

I'd like to think my boyfriend and I are fairly intelligent people but sometimes things happen that make me seriously doubt this. Take, for example, our attempt to watch Season 3 of Breaking Bad. It all started when we went to our nearest video rental store. They only had three of the four discs but informed us that another store had disc 1. So, we rented discs 2 through 4 and headed north to the other location and rented disc 1.

We successfully watched the first few episodes on disc 1. Then, we attempted to watch the last one but fell asleep early on and decided we would watch it at a later date. One week passes. We're headed out to run some errands and decide we should bring back disc 1 since it's overdue. Did we watch all the episodes on that disc? Somehow, we convinced ourselves that we had, and brought it back. 

There was also added pressure to return these suckers. The chain of video stores we rent from was going bankrupt and would close permanently in a matter of weeks. We had to call and find out how long we had before they closed up shop and we wouldn't be able to return them and then we'd have creditors hassling us to purchase the damn discs.

A short time later, we settled in to watch the first episode on disc 2. Massive confusion. What the hell is going on? Did we miss an episode? Then, it dawned on me. Shit! We never finished the last episode on disc 1 because we fell asleep! Dammit! Highly frustrated by our lack of short term memory, we marched on, watched disc 2 and pieced together what we missed.

When we finished watching the second disc, my boyfriend put in disc 3, or so he thought. We watched all the episodes on this disc, and the last one had a great cliffhanger ending. I rushed to the DVD player to put in what I thought would be the final disc. As I removed the one we'd just watched, I looked at it in horror as I read: Disc 4, episodes 11-13. Whaaaaaaa?! How could this happen? How could we not know we skipped ONE WHOLE DISC when we were so confused after missing just one episode?

Then, I had an idea. I knew Season 4 was currently airing on TV and we had that channel on our On Demand service. OMG, we could go watch Season 4 now and find out what happened! So, we found the Breaking Bad listing, bursting with glee, only to have our dreams crushed. Only episodes 6-8 of Season 4 were listed. F*CK. We are idiots.

So, we resigned ourselves to watching the middle episodes of Season 3 that we missed. They filled in some details of the later episodes but we couldn't help but feel completely deflated by our stupidity. I mean, this is a kick-ass show, not something you want to f*ck up, you know? Now, we'll basically have to wait until Season 4 comes out on DVD, and find a new video rental store. Bollocks.

Yes, I'm a Twilight fan. Sort of. Ok! Are you happy now?

Last weekend I found myself in a strange, mysterious and slightly disturbing place - the teen vampire drama universe. My stepdaughter and I were trying to figure out what mindless drivel we would watch to pass the time, and I voluntarily (key word here) suggested Twilight, which I've seen already, like, three times.

We then decided that, in preparation for the release of Breaking Dawn, Part 1, the fourth installment in this wildly popular series, we would also watch New Moon and Eclipse again, both of which I've already seen, but only once, and at the time, I felt once was more than enough.

It's interesting what happens when time passes and you watch a movie again that you thought you kinda hated and it's... better than you initially thought. I'm already predisposed to these films due to my long-standing vampire fetish but I was surprised at my new found enthusiasm for what is essentially a lame-ass retelling of vampire lore.

I still can't convince myself that Kristen Stewart can act. She's shit, any way you slice it, and to this day, I can't understand why Hollywood has convinced itself that she's a talented performer. Luckily, the rest of the cast picks up the slack, especially my beloved Anna Kendrick, scene-stealer extraordinaire. She's awesome, any way you slice it. So is Taylor Lautner's bare chest. It's a character in itself.

I did sorely miss Rachelle Lefevre, who was replaced in Eclipse due to a scheduling conflict by Bryce Dallas Howard. How those bastards at Summit Entertainment couldn't work around Rachelle's shooting schedule is beyond me, but if I had to choose between working with Dustin Hoffman and Paul Giamatti on a film based on a Mordechai Richler story and the campy Twilight saga, I'd ditch the latter as well.   

Note to Robert Pattinson: hit the gym 'yo! Taylor Lautner is wiping the floor with your pasty, non-defined, skinny-ass torso. I understand your skin has to look abnormally white due to the vampiric nature of your character but that's no excuse not to get some bulk and definition. When in doubt, consult photos of True Blood's male vampire cast, most notably Stephen Moyer and Alexander Skarsgard. You should bare some resemblance to that body type to convince us of your truly irresistible vampire charm.

After having immersed myself in about six hours of Twilight saga-ness, I find myself actually excited to see the next installment, mostly because I'm curious as to how they dealt with a vampire/human sex scene and what can only be described as an incredibly unusual, violent birth. Sex and violence, that's all it really takes to lure me in. I know, how typically bourgeois.

Of course, I'm expecting some Kristen Stewart-esque bad acting but after having made us wait this long, we're finally getting to the good stuff, and they better not have f*cked it up. Of course, Breaking Dawn won't hold a candle to True Blood's sexual content but that's like comparing apples to oranges - it's a fruitless endeavour.

Vajazzle this!

Is there anything more exciting than learning a new word? Yesterday, my stepdaughter introduced me to a term she heard on a new show on TLC called Big Sexy, a show about fat chicks living in New York. 

In one episode, our Sex and the City plus-size cohort heads to the salon and one of them gets a bikini wax, with a twist. You see, if you'd like to add that extra layer of "sexy", you can vajazzle your vag, meaning the application of shiny, jewelery-like bits over your lady parts, on your lower abdomen.

Since it's a brand new word, I thought I'd come up with a few more definitions....

1 - Vajazzle, noun, masculin: man who drizzles giz everywhere after sex, except in your cooch; basically, a post-coital slob.

Used in a sentence: Honey, how many times do I have to tell you! My belly button is not a vagina. Why do you have to be such a vajazzle.

2 - Vajazzle, verb: a slang expression for "I'm gonna mess you up, bitch" 

Used in a sentence: Touch my vintage stapler one more time, and I'm gonna vajazzle your ass!

3 - Vajazzle, adjective: inappropriate article of clothing.

Used in a sentence: That is such a vajazzle top. No one needs to see your fake boob scars, or your eerily immobile nipples, for that matter.

4 - Vajazzle, noun, feminine: woman who washes her hair too infrequently and looks like she was attacked by a vajazzle (see definition #1).

Used in a sentence: Oh honey, when was the last time you washed your hair? Don't be such a vajazzle. 

5 - Vajazzle, noun, masculin: a snappy-dressing vampire.

Used in a sentence: Like, oh my God, Robert Pattinson is like, the best vajazzle EVER!

6 - Vajazzle, verb: a bejeweled varsity athlete.

Used in a sentence: Wow, it really sucks that (name has been blocked for privacy purposes) is benched again! Someone should tell her vajazzling is like, so last year.

If you've got any new definition ideas for this fabulous word, then please, share with the rest of the class...

Reality Redux

Sometimes, my boyfriend and I will just be sittin' around, watchin' TV when suddenly, out of the blue, he's struck by a genius idea, or, in this case, a genius thread of ideas. He came up with some, shall we say, alternative concepts, for existing reality shows. I thought they were rather entertaining and somewhat offensive. In other words, I loved them. It would be a shame not to share...

Current show: Mantracker - a highly skilled wilderness dude chases city folk through forests and shit.

New show: Mancracker - women chase men with commitment issues through the urban jungle.

Current show: Survivor - a bunch of scantily-clad people hang out on a tropical island and try to figure out how best to vote each other off the island. The winner gets a big cash prize.

New show: Survivor-in-laws: a bunch of people kind of related to you but not really hang out in your house and you try to figure out how best to get them the hell out. Instead of money, you get your house back.

Current show: Love it or list it - couples decide if the home they currently own is best for them, and determine what they would need in a new home, if they decided to sell. They must then choose between renovating or selling.

New show: Love it or f*ck it: men decide if they really like a girl, or just want to f*ck her.

Current show: Holmes on homes - Mike Holmes, a very knowledgeable contractor dude helps out couples who've had bad-ass renos done by douchebag, sub-par contractors.

New show: Holmes on homos: Mike Holmes, a very knowledgeable contractor dude helps out gay couples who've had bad-ass renos done by douchebag, sub-par contractors.

Current show: My first place - the show follows first-time buyers and their realtors as they navigate the hell that is purchasing your first home.

New show: My first race - follows the transformation of people who have apparently switched races (think Michael Jackson: his first race was African American, his second was apparently an attempt at being Caucasian).

Why my boyfriend is not a highly successful TV executive is a mystery to me... that shit is GOLD.

She lives no longer...

It seems my beloved feline companion, Phoebe, ran out of lives. She never completely recovered from that respiratory infection / chronic kidney failure combo she had a couple weeks ago so we decided to put her down last Friday. She could no longer jump up on furniture or chase a fly, her quality of life had plummeted. She was a walking corpse.

However, her mental acuity never waned, not for a moment, and that's what made this decision so difficult. Mentally, she was still all there but her body just couldn't keep up. And I couldn't watch my once feisty, active cat wither away and watch life instead of participating in it. 

Not gonna lie, it was f*cking sad. The worse part is that I knew it was coming. When we put Phoebe's brother down a couple years ago, it was the same day we made the decision. He was in a very bad way and I felt we needed to act immediately. I could not watch my little cuddle bunny suffer any longer. However, with Phoebe, she didn't seem to be in any great physical agony, despite being very weak and emaciated due to her kidney condition. 

So we scheduled her appointment, and had to wait two days since that's when our vet would next be in. It was perhaps the longest, most agonizing two days ever. But it did give me the time to cuddle with Phoebe one last time, brush her and make sure she had a yummy meal before we took her in. Our vet was amazing and the staff at the clinic very sensitive to our situation. Considering the sad nature of the event, it couldn't have gone any better.

My boyfriend and I stayed with her to the very end. As with her brother, I had this strange feeling that, on some level, Phoebe knew what was going to happen, and was ok with it. She looked at me one last time, without a trace of panic or fear, as if to say it was ok, she understood. Then, within a matter of seconds, she was gone.

We decided to donate Phoebe's things to our local SPCA since we don't plan on having more pets for a few years. That visit was very heartening. We returned twice since we had forgotten some things the first time around, and on our second visit, some of Phoebe's toys were already out for the shelter's cats to play with.

I also noticed how these cats were brimming with energy and vitality, and when I picked up one especially enthusiastic young cat and lovingly held her, I was astounded by her energy, weight and healthy plumpness. It was then that I truly realized how sick my cat had been and that we had made the right decision.

It's still strange to come home to a pet-free house. It's quiet and very clean. I suspect we'll have more cats in the future but for now, I'll let myself heal from this loss. It's astounding how quickly those little furry creatures get under your skin and into your heart.

Goodbye my sweet little girl cat.

Plastic bimbosity busted

There are many reasons why I love Kate Winslet. She's a crazy talented actress, smart, beautiful, funny, etc... and she, along with Rachel Weisz and Emma Thompson, have founded the British Anti-Cosmetic Surgery League, promoting the idea of aging naturally, without plastic surgery.

It's nice to get a breath of fresh sanity every once in a while. 'Cause seriously, this plastic surgery thing has gotten way out of hand. I watched an episode of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills a while back and was astounded by the utterly homogenous appearance of these women. 

Blonde, tanned, fake boobs, oversized lips, immobilized faces. It was obvious each of these women had had a number of cosmetic "enhancements" and frankly, these did nothing to boost their looks. Circus freaks. That's the first thing I thought of when I saw them. 

Why do women think this is beautiful? Or that we should all look the same? If you're working in an industry that basically forces you to undergo cosmetic procedures to keep looking young, to stay "competitive", maybe you should reconsider what you do for a living. And if you feel compelled to go under the knife to retain the affections of a distracted lover, maybe it's time to take the trash to the curb, if you get my drift.

Most of the incredibly talented female actresses that come to my mind are natural beauties, untouched by a plastic surgeon's scalpel or needle: Meryl Streep, Julianne Moore, Kate Winslet, Emma Thompson. These are beautiful women, each having their own, unique features. And I remember them clearly. I can tell them apart. They've retained their distinguishing traits, in favour of accepting the body's natural aging process, rather than trying to retard it, and end up looking like, well, a retard. 

Barbie was meant to remain a plastic doll, not become the yardstick by which women measure their proximity to some warped perception of perfection. That false idea of "perfection" was lovingly planted within us at a tender age, watered and tended to by a plethora of corporations who make their money from our self-hatred. Who the f*ck is in charge here anyway?

Never underestimate a good ending

This past week, my boyfriend and I started watching the first season of Breaking Bad. I know, we're a little behind the curve on this one. Season 4 has already started airing and Season 5 has been confirmed, although it will be the show's final season. This already makes me sad and I haven't even started watching Season 2.

I had no idea how extensive Bryan Cranston's acting career has been. I just remembered him as Dr. Tim Whatley, a memorable reoccurring role on Seinfeld. It's a testament to his acting chops and natural charisma that he stood out in a show on which he only occasionally guest starred. He is, of course, sublime as Walter White, the title character in Breaking Bad.

I always wish that truly great TV shows could go on forever even though it's been proven time and again that nothing lasts forever and even good things must come to an end. This got me thinking of good TV endings and bad TV endings. So I thought I'd draw up a list. 'Cause everyone loves lists.

Great ending: Seinfeld

Seinfeld ran for nine glorious seasons and when it was announced that it would end, I was beside myself. How could this show end? It was at the top of its game. There had to be more stories about nothing. I couldn't fathom TV without Seinfeld. 

But to this day, I thank Jerry Seinfeld for deciding to go out on top, leaving us wanting more. Even the "reunion show" assembled for the seventh season of Curb Your Enthusiasm was great and didn't tarnish in any way the original show. It was pitch perfect.

Bad ending: Friends

As much as I loved this show, it should have ended after nine seasons. The tenth was basically a prolonged goodbye episode that sucked the life out of the show. It's like Friends took itself too seriously and got a little too narcissistic towards the end. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. It's as if the show was saying to its viewers "OMG, you are SO gonna miss me! What will you DO when we're off the air?" Umm, change the channel and see what else is on, that's what.

Great ending: Cheers

This beloved, long-running show was one of my faves. In 11 seasons, it never lost its gusto, and the last episode was appropriately touching, a perfect ending to a phenomenal run. Despite some major casting changes (Kirstey Alley replacing Shelley Long; Woody Harrelson stepping in for Nicholas Colasanto), this show thrived on an incredible ensemble cast and supporting characters. It will be remembered with much love and affection.

Bad ending: Roseanne

It pains me to put this show in the "bad ending" category since its first few seasons were rock solid. Relevant, bold storylines, great writing and lovable characters. However, this show lost its way well before it actually ended after nine seasons. One major mistake was to recast the role of Becky (originally played by Lecy Goranson, Sarah Chalke took over the role in Season 6; Lecy came back in Season 8 only to be replaced by Sarah once again in Season 9). 

Recasting is not always a death sentence for a show (see Cheers above). However, recasting someone in the SAME role will kill the show, either quickly, or in this case, over four seasons. Once that was done, I just couldn't buy it anymore. Sarah Chalke is amazing in Scrubs and has some real comedic talent but Lecy was, and always will be, Becky. 

I don't mind shows taking creative risks but the surreal nature of the final season just didn't resonate with me, and I suspect, with many other viewers as well, since Roseanne's rating plummeted from #1 in Season 2 to #35 in Season 9. This show got off to a great start but in the end, crashed and burned.

Great ending: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

After seven incredible seasons, how does one end Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Not to worry, Joss Whedon was on the job. The finale was everything we could have possibly hoped for, and for a show that could get pretty dark due to its subject matter, it ended on a very positive and inspiring note. A fitting end to such a formidable show.

Bad ending: Angel

We can't blame Joss Whedon for this one. Rumour has it he was informed midway through the fifth season that the show would not be renewed, so some major adjustments needed to be made to wrap up Angel much sooner than expected. And that's exactly the feeling I got watching the last half of the final season. The ending left me feeling empty, like it wasn't the proper ending. Something about it just felt... wrong. Kinda like the TV executives who decided to cancel this show well before its time.

Hollywood's generosity knows no bounds

It seems the world, as we know it, is crumbling around us. The US is up shit creek without a paddle and now Europe is buckling under the weight of its debt. So, I was a little peeved when those annoyingly plastic Entertainment Tonight hosts (say what you will, no one beats the dynamic duo that was John Tesh and Mary Hart) were talking about Hollywood heavyweights taking a "pay cut" for their TV gigs.

Let's see if I remember this correctly... Ashton Kutcher is making $700,000 per episode for Two and a Half Men, making him the highest paid TV actor. Ashton Kutcher. Highest paid TV actor. WTF? Then we have Tim Allen, Ted Danson and Keifer Sutherland making something like $250,00 or so an episode on their shows. Man, that is rough. What a sacrifice.

What does a school teacher make? Approximately $30,000 a year or something? Or a nurse? Or a police officer? Or a firefighter? Or a soldier? I couldn't help but be somewhat disgusted by the gaping abyss that separates the ridiculously wealthy from the rest of us.

It's a slap in the face to say that these actors are taking a "pay cut". They're still grossly overpaid. Like corporate CEOs. Who needs that much money? When is enough, enough? The French had a little thing they resorted to called "une révolution" when their royalty got a little too greedy. The middle class rose up and started chopping off aristocratic heads. Don't think it can't happen again. London is burning. People are pissed.

Sure, the middle class has been complacent, much to its own detriment, and still doesn't seem upset enough to mobilize on a grand scale and throw corporate fat cats out on their asses. Which they could do, if they wanted to. But if things keep going the way they are, and the circus side show continues in Washington, the middle class will keep getting squeezed until they snap. I suspect, however, they'll have moved past the guillotine.

And if there's any sure sign that the US is in decline, it's Katie Holmes guest judging on So You Think You Can Dance. I'm sorry, there's just NO excuse for that.

She lives!

Before I get to the story behind this post's title, I want to talk a bit about the wonderful game of golf. I never thought I'd be one of "those" people, you know, golfers. It was a little too hoity-toity, a little too mainstream for this artsy rebel. Well, I've basically sold out and don't have the energy anymore to be rebellious so I've taken up golf.

If there's anything I've learned so far it's that this game requires emotional fortitude because right now, I suck at it. My best game so far was actually my first game this season. From there, I got progressively worse. You'd think it would be the opposite. But as our golf instructor told us, golf is very counter-intuitive. I guess it's also counter-progressive too. 

It's the kind of sport you absolutely adore when things are going well. You feel accomplished and capable as you relish the natural beauty of the golf course. You feel you belong. However, when things start to go south, and you've lost your mojo, it becomes one of the most demoralizing exercises in perseverance. Gone is the sense of accomplishment, only to be replaced by utter despair and anger and it's almost as if you expect the golf police to come by and throw you off the course. "Come back when you can hit a straight shot, you flunky!", you imagine them saying. 

However, I'm not one to cower when faced with a hefty challenge and I will master this game. That pesky little white ball will bend to my will and I will be victorious. Mark my words, I WILL be victorious.

And now for something completely different.... (thank you Monty Python)

You know when you wake up in the morning and you go into your living room and find your cat sprawled on the floor, and you pet her a couple times but she doesn't move and it looks like she's not breathing and for a split second you think she's dead and your heart starts to pound and tears start rolling down your cheeks and then suddenly her little head perks up and she looks at you as if you've lost your marbles?

Well, that's what happened to me the other morning. You see, I have an old cat with a chronic kidney condition. She hadn't eaten in about a day, was quite lethargic and things were looking dire. Hence the immediate assumption that she may have passed away on my living room floor. 

However, Phoebe was still alive. So we called the vet and brought her in. Apparently, she had contracted a respiratory infection which was unrelated to her kidney condition. The vet gave her some subcutaneous fluids, a shot of antibiotics and got her to eat. If all went well, she would be better within about three days. It's about day two and a half and my cat seems to be on the mend. Yes, she still has her chronic kidney condition but she's perked up and is eating again. She's a tough old bird and is presently relaxing on our backyard deck.

Being faced with a cherished pet's mortality is not pleasant. I had to put Phoebe's brother down almost two years ago and it was one of the most difficult, heart-wrenching things I've ever had to do. However, Phoebe seems to have cheated death, at least for now, and my heart has been put back together.

Little Blackie - In memoriam

A few days ago, my boyfriend and I were watching True Grit (the Cohen brothers' remake) and I noticed something peculiar. (Spoiler alert!) Towards the end of the movie, the young girl's horse is forced to run to the very end of its physical capabilities in order to save her life, collapses and is subsequently shot by Jeff Bridges' character. 

I was beside myself. I told my boyfriend they should have called this movie Little Blackie, after the horse. Then it dawned on me. I was more upset about animals being hurt than humans. Sure, a few criminals in the movie got shot and one guy had his fingers chopped off but hey, that's how it was in the wild, wild west.  

But aim a gun at a horse's head and I'm apoplectic. That is an outrage, I say, an outrage! How could he DO that! What is wrong with people!

It reminds me of those Humane Society commercials where they show all these sad, abandoned and/or abused animals. If I even catch a glimpse of one of those animals, tears well up in my eyes and a lump forms in my throat. 

One time, I actually watched a whole story on one of the animals they rescued - a sweet dog that had been neglected and abused. He didn't make it but in his final moments, he was surrounded by love. I lost my shit, people. I was reduced to a sobbing, blubbering mess.

Mistreatment or violence involving animals = instant fury and most probably tears. Mistreatment or violence involving humans = Meh. Depends who it is. Depends on the situation. Somehow that just doesn't seem right to me. Shouldn't I care more about humans than animals?

Maybe it's because animals are usually so much cuter than humans. They're furry and cuddly. Maybe it's because humans tend to piss me off. Animals, not so much. And who hasn't cried watching Old Yeller? Ok, I haven't actually seen the movie but I know what happens which is why I can't watch it.

I did cry when (spoiler alert!) Nate died on Six Feet Under. However, I suspect there was a much deeper, philosophical disturbance going on there due to the show's brilliant exploration of life and death and what it all means, and the fact that I had watched about six episodes consecutively. Damn you Alan Ball, and your crazy talent!

I also cried when (spoiler alert!) Buffy's mom died in Season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In a show  littered with supernatural deaths, the passing of Buffy's mom of natural causes was in stark contrast to the show's usual fare and was portrayed so poignantly and realistically. Damn you Joss Whedon, and your crazy talent!

Huh. I guess I do care about humans, sometimes...

Fun with CNN Souvenirs - Episode 6

If you're not familiar with this cutting edge series, you can catch up on earlier episodes before diving into this new one (it's a most excellent way to procrastinate if there's something you need to do but don't really want to. Just sayin'.):

Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5

**These episodes are solely a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance whatsoever to actual events is purely coincidental.

Soledad: This is far from over Sassy. 

Me: Is that a threat?

Soledad: You bet your ass it is, you bitch. You will suffer as I have suffered. Maybe even worse.

Me: I didn't realize the public ridicule would be so far reaching.

Soledad: Oh please. Don't play dumb with me. I Facebook creeped you. I know you leaked the fashion show fiasco story to anyone who would listen.

Me: You deserved it, blackmailing Anderson the way you did. You got beat at your own game and you didn't like it. It's not so much fun being on the other side, is it?

Soledad: Your problem is that you underestimate me. I never get beat. Never.

Me: Suck it up Princess. You didn't get the information you wanted from Sanjay and now I know what you so desperately tried to pry out of him using my husband. And I must say, I look f*cking fabulous after a few weeks on Sanjay's all-chocolate diet. Don't you think?

Soledad: So smug. I've done some research on you.

Me: Facebook stalking hardly qualifies as research.

Soledad: Oh, that was just the tip of the iceberg. I have contacts. People who owe me favours. And I found out a very interesting fact about you. You're deathly afraid of cats. 

Me (turning ashen): That's ridiculous.

Soledad: Is it? The colour seems to have drained from your face. I'd say I'm onto something.

Me: I'd say you're reading into things and are gravely mistaken. 

Soledad: Oh really. Well, why don't we put that theory to the test (Soledad reaches into a large tote bag and pulls out...)

Me (utterly frightened but trying to hide it)

Soledad: Would you like to hold her?

Me (hesitating): Sure. (Soledad places the cat on my lap.)

Soledad: Oooh, I think she likes you. That's good because I bought her for you. You can take her home with you.

Me: How... thoughtful of you. 

Soledad: I know. Now, don't be shy. You can pet her. 

Me (with beads of sweat forming at my brow, I slowly place my hand on the cat and begin stroking it)

Soledad: It's a match made in heaven.

Me: It sure is. I... I adore her. 

Soledad: Are you sure? You don't seem convinced.

Me: Of course I'm sure. 

Soledad: It's just that... you don't look so good. 

Me: I'm fine. Really. (Paralyzed with fear, I pass out.)

Soledad: Now I have you right where I want you. It's payback time bitch.

What will Soledad do to me? Will Anderson and Sanjay come to my rescue? Find out on the next episode of Fun with CNN Souvenirs.