Sunday, August 31, 2008


That is the cutest freaking thing I have ever seen. I want a squirrel monkey for my birthday, I might even pawn my dog. I don't know if the zoo accepts trades, but I'm also totally willing to turn in my "wild red-bellied tropical chihuahua." I hear they are endangered...

Okay, she's just a regular chihuahua, but I really want a monkey.

Friday, August 29, 2008


Ordinarily, I'm not one to talk politics. But I was literally shocked and dismayed (but a little excited for Obama) when John McCain announced his running mate earlier today. This morning he introduced first-term Alaska Governor Sarah Palin as his vice presidential hopeful, a surprising selection, to say the least. My best guess is that this plan was designed to get an edge in the race by appealing to women, and also trying to deter from the fact that he's 106 years-old and will be lucky to complete a full term should he happen to be elected.

"She's exactly who I need. She's exactly who this country needs to help me fight the same old Washington politics of 'Me first and country second,' " McCain declared. Funny that he is now claiming to be fighting against 'the same old Washington politics," considering he's stood tall behind just about every Bush vote and decision (each of which sent the U.S. spiralling further down into the toilet).

Palin, 44, the first Republican woman on a presidential ticket, stated, "I'm going to take our campaign to every part of our country and our message of reform to every voter of every background in every political party, or no party at all." That's an interesting promise for a Governor in a state with more reindeer than people. I certainly hope it's not like father like daughter, as Palin's dad has declared, "I'd rather go moose hunting than be involved with politics."

I don't know whether to be insulted by this blatant attempt to woo the female vote, or repulsed by the I'm-a-former-beauty-queen-and-you-could-easily-be-my-daddy Republican dream team. When it comes down to it, McCain is just a dirty old man, divorcing his crippled wife for a wealthy Junior Miss Rodeo Queen, and then picking Miss Alaska as his running mate. What a scumbag, and definitely not the man to be running this country. He'll probably dump America after two years for a younger, richer country.

McCain has made his decision public just six days after Barack Obama named Senator Joseph Biden of Delaware, as the other half of the Democratic ticket. Obama, 47, picked a 65-year-old running mate with long experience in government, foreign policy, and a man whom he said was qualified to be president. On his 72nd birthday, McCain chose a woman younger than two of his seven children, who has five young children of her own (ranging from 5 months to 19-years-old), who until recently was the mayor of small-town Wasilla, Alaska (population 9,000), has zero experience with foreign policy and has been governor less than two years.

The Obama campaign asked the most obvious and immediate question: is Sarah Palin prepared to step in and be President? Can America really be confident enough enough to say yes? I know I'm not.

In my opinion, McCain definitely dropped the ball here, which is only an advantage to the Democrats. The Republican party leaders will stand behind him of course, shifting in their seats as they try to dance around the topics of inexperience, foreign policy, and readiness to lead a nation (not a Caribou hunting tundra). Obama has been criticized repeatedly for lack of experience, and as such he brought more to the table with Biden. What in the world is McCain bringing? Beauty? A relative mystery? A woman with a growing family and children who still need her? Hmmm...I'm not sure what this will translate into for the coming campaigns. Will it help Obama? Did McCain have another 'Senior Moment'? America, you be the judge.

Barack the Vote!

Things that made me smile today...

You have to love this, there's just no other choice.

Barack the vote America!

Next up, remembering how much I loved 'My December.' Clive Davis is a jackass. And angry music is better than any music I know, that way I can be bitter vicariously through someone else.

Yes, I'll admit it...I love Kelly Clarkson. Okay, glad I got that out of my system. We won't mention it again.

Ah, another great story about the classy side of Miami. It must be the humidity. Actually, apparently it must be the marijuana...

"Anyone who grew up in the suburbs knows that the mall parking lot is the perfect place to meet your dealer and pick up a dime bag (maybe we're revealing too much). But you never think that the weed may actually be coming from the mall.

Things are a bit different in Miami, though, now that cops have discovered a hydroponic marijuana nursery hidden in a Mall of the Americas' storeroom. By tapping into the building's power supply, growers were able to hook up enough grow lights to cultivate over 200 budding plants. Authorities say the crude wiring could have caused a fire, but they haven't made any arrests and aren't revealing how they discovered the doobage.

"That's bad. I don't want my kids around that. Bro, that's a first," said eloquent shopper Fonsy Martinez. We're with you, Fonz.

While police are presumably investigating mall employees and maintenance workers, we've got our eye on the owner of the food court Chick-fil-A. He clearly reaps the benefits when there's a mall-wide outbreak of the munchies."

Thank you, Miami. Thank you for continuing to make me shame.

I don't even really drink Coca-Cola without rum or Johnny Walker, but it still makes me happy. Just thinking about those polar bears, come on, when I was a kid I wanted to move the arctic (my mom said no). Although my sister is always careful to remind me that "they originally made it with cocaine, that's why it's called Coke." I know, I know...they definitely should have stuck with the first recipe. At any rate, go design your own bottle at


That's mine. Good times.

Amazing what a flat iron and orthodontics can do. Chelsea Clinton, I know I'm a little late, but congratulations on making it through puberty, becoming quasi-hot, and getting some hot European ass. I commend you, as well as Bill Clinton's genepool.

Last but not least, although the thought of actually consuming these (without being on drugs) makes me physically ill, I can't help but appreciate the idea.

The Krispy Kreme Bacon Cheeseburger

Served exclusively at the Google NYC cafeteria.

Burger King's The Burger

Only sold in one West London restaurant, this $400 burger is made of Wagyu beef, white truffles, Pata Negra ham slices, Cristal onion straws, Modena balsamic vinegar, pink Himalayan rock salt, organic white wine and shallot infused mayonnaise and served on an Iranian saffron and white truffle dusted bun.

And, goodnight.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Let's All Take it Down a Notch.

I can't stand people who take themselves too seriously. There, I said it. I'm an adult, not a very good one, but sane enough to realize that there are times to be somber, rational, defensive, complacent, offensive, accepting, open-minded, opinionated, adamant, etc. And then there are times to laugh, especially at yourself; even moreso at me. If you don't have the ability to do that, I urge you to please withdraw yourself from any and all conversations I am involved in, or might happen to stumble across. Because disagreeable, argumentative people contribute daily to the possibility that my head might actually explode.

Three-quarters of what comes out of my mouth is sarcasm, and purely in fun. Write that down. I try not to make time to be angry about trivialities. Ignorance is not synonymous with stupidity (or hostility), more often it refers to being uninformed, uneducated, or unaware. Frankly, I don't see a rhyme or reason for wasting the energy of a negative emotional response on someone who just doesn't know what they're talking about. If you want to fight ignorance, write an essay, teach a class, recommend a helpful textbook, but try stepping down off the high horse for a second and smelling the freaking roses. I don't need an introduction to some facet of anyone's inner angst on a continuous basis.

Fighting should be completely reserved for people with whom you will have just as much passion finding a resolution.

That being said, there are a few things that I refuse to talk about with people whom I know have or may have differing opinions. Politics. Religion. Race. These are hot button issues and the fact is that people do not simply discuss these issues, they debate them. They debate, they assert, they argue, and eventually someone gets offended and/or says something unnecessary. The last thing I want is love lost on what in the greater scheme of things, doesn't really matter. Make love not war, people. Please, please don't make me bring that slogan back. I have enough trouble not being a complete idiot, thanks.

The next time I sense an argument being intiated, I will stand up, clear my throat, and smile. I'm sure at this juncture, my companions will begin wondering why I'm standing, at which point I will say:

"Ahh, forget about it, let's go get some ice cream!"

You see how that works? Ice cream is the ultimate trump card. Besides, being angry gives you wrinkles, frowning tires out your face, and shouting strains your vocal cords. Not to mention you might get slapped. I choose agree to disagree, let's shake hands and pat eachother on the butt. Nice call, friend. Nice call.

Everyone loves a happy ending, and I love Javachip. So remember, If I tease you, yell at you, point at you and laugh... it's only love...just call me a bitch and eat your ice cream.

I feel better already:)

Monday, August 25, 2008

Chemistry 101.

If you ever go to see a (licensed) therapist or psychologist, they will probably give you a chemical use survey. This is not referring to whether you treat your lawn for fire ants, own a bunsen burner, highlight your hair, or try to minimize your pores.

Instead, it will ask if, when, and how often you use/consume the following:

Prescribed Pills

Whoa, nothing gets by you! Yes, that says caffeine. It is considered a chemical, and an addictive one at that. I'll say one thing, if I ever become a crackhead and find myself in rehab sitting next to a coffee junkie, I'll punch him square in the face.

I've had 5 shots of espresso today and I'm still tired. I guess I have a chemical dependency. I'm addicted to lattes and cappucinos. Lock me away.

Are these people kidding?

No, really...are they kidding?

Geek Confessions.


For those who do not already know, I have contracted a mild case of insomnia (is there such thing as a mild case? I figure insomnia either is or is not, but I'm just trying to stay positive). Not that I am completely incapable of sleep, it just doesn't occur until I'm basically too exhausted to function. And even then it's for approximately two hours, until the blazing sunrays come streaming through my window and force me back awake.

At any rate, I've been trying to find creative ways to occupy my time, because really there aren't many non-sexual, non-detrimental, non-insane activities to do in the middle of the night, while the rest of the world sleeps. Guitar Hero is always a fantastic idea, but you can only play Aerosmith so many times before you develop carpal tunnel syndrome.

So, while experimenting with my new webcam (don't ask why), I discovered PhotoSuite.

PhotoSuite is awesome. I'm sure it's originally intended for cropping, eliminating red-eye, that sort of thing. You know, normal editing. I, however, have chosen to spend hours doing stupid things like this:

And this...

I know what you're thinking. And yes, if you don't have PhotoSuite already, you should get it now. For no other reason than to send your friends and family ridiculous pictures and/or waste time amusing yourself (again, in a non-sexual way).

On a side note, when I googled insomnia, I got this:

Thank you world wide web. When I typed "insomnia", I most surely meant "interracial cookie."

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Alcohol Edumacation: Hi, My Name Is...

I think I just found my vision of the Perfect World...

Oh, right...that's freaking impossible. And anyway, since I've stopped drinking, I'd probably get exiled soon after the vodka-tsunami hit.

Giving up alcohol is always a good thing. Especially when we're talking about health concerns (i.e. my poor, spiteful liver), maintaining control of inhibitions, and preventing inebriated hazards including but not limited to: destitution, imprisonment, unexplained injuries, IHOP, waking up in strange places, slurring, Taco Bell, accidental fires, beverage spills, unintentional violence, bad karaoke, betting on parlor games, stealing street signs, McDonald's, breaking things, losing personal belongings, getting ejected from nightclubs, making ridiculous toasts, getting lost in parking lots, being excessively obnoxious, Burger King, confessing secrets that have no need to be confessed, Denny's, dancing to the music in your head, yelling for no apparent reason, crying over spilt milk, cooking terrible eggs (or other 5am food), hugging strangers, vomiting in public places, falling, overall loss of dignity, and generally making an ass out of oneself.

Not to mention hangovers. And sleeping through morning alarms.

However, after approximately 1:00am on any given night, there is absolutely no reason for a sober person to be awake. None. But I am. Always. Thank you insomnia, thank you so much for shunning the evils of liquor and becoming a part of my life. Because of you I am able to partake in late-night television, be home early on Saturday nights, research useless information on Wikipedia, and aspire to one day have bloodshot eyes and pretty purple bags beneath them. I can't wait, I'm almost peeing with anticipation.

But until then, I will continue to spread my useless knowledge and opinions to the masses.

Dipsomania is a term which describes an uncontrollable craving for alcohol. The term breaks down as "compulsive thirst" but when used, is primarily related to the excessive consumption of alcohol. As a result, a Dipsomaniac (commonly called an alcoholic, but that's such a harsh word) is a person with the constant physical and psychological urge for ethyl alcohol, especially liquor.

By the way, ethyl alcohol, (also ethanol, grain alcohol, or drinking alcohol), is a volatile, flammable, colorless liquid. It is a psychoactive drug consumed since ancient times. After the cavemen discovered fire, they found alcohol (and we wonder why the Flintstones seemed so dumb). Interestingly enough, ethyl alcohol is also found in: thermometers, by-products of petroleum refining, solvents, scents, flavorings, colorings, medicines, fuel for heat and light, and also fuel for internal combustion engines (so that's why whiskey burns my throat). I always knew my stomach was a combustion engine! The good news is that if you're ever broke and out of booze, you can just crack open a thermometer. I'd recommend it on the rocks.

Now that's how to think like a true Dipsomaniac.

Luckily, most Dipsomanics tend to be very amiable, fun, and outgoing social butterflies; they just happen to fall off the wagon every so often, blackout, and make fools of themselves. But I've found that using big words can often get you out of sticky situations. So if you tell your peers that you are a Dipsomaniac, (after scratching their heads in confusion) they won't think you have a problem, they'll just think that you're really smart. They might even think that you're a snob, that's how intelligent you'll sound. You will then be free to sip your martini once more, without the hassle or distraction. Just don't say it when you're actually drunk, because then you'll just sound retarded.

Hey Look!

Bong Spirit Vodka

(Real) Scorpion Vodka

Oh the memories...all the Dipso's out there, forget your homies, drink one for me!

Friday, August 22, 2008

Being Fat doesn't pay...but Fat People DO!

Sweet Home Alabama! Home of great barbeque, fried chicken, sweet tea, and obesity. You have to respect a state where deep frying is pretty much the only method of cooking, gravy is considered a beverage, and pecan pie is used as a digestive aid. Joking aside, Alabama has become the second most obese state in the country (behind Mississipi, the reigning gold medalist for the past 3 years), and it's time to crack down. Well, slim down. Well, slim down on crack...and I'm not talking narcotics. With just over 30% of it's population considered obese, state officials are finally recognizing and addressing the condition as a serious statewide health problem.

Legislation has been passed declaring that beginning in January 2010, obese state workers will be required to pay $25 a month for health insurance(which is normally provided at no cost). This will ensure that any obese employee who has not made an effort to lose weight by the January deadline, will be throwing away $300 a year, and I'm sure 'fat fees' are not tax deductible.

I can't speak for anyone else, but I'd rather buy a new iphone than spend my hard earned money on being decidedly unhealthy, something that carries far more risks than squeezing a few more hundred dollars out of your piggy bank.

Of course a lot of Alabama residents are in uproar (I'll let you guess which ones), but the state already requires $24 a month from smokers, and obesity is equally as much of a health risk. I'm impressed that the government is finally taking a proactive stance to help diminish this unnecessary disease which is also becoming prevalent in children at a young age.

Kudos Alabama! But seriously, this doesn't mean you need to get rid of the barbeque...

Girls, Women, People...Interrupted.

After watching the movie Girl, Interrupted for the Nth time, a few questions came to mind. Well, the first is more of a statement, which is how much I miss Angelina Jolie before she had 17 babies and stopped being a badass, i.e. became a blonde news reporter in Life or Something Like It. I think I actually cried tears, real tears, after watching that senseless, cliche, and awfully scripted waste of talent. She had so many breakthrough roles, took chances on being an outsider, and being different. The passion she put into those roles really showed on screen, managing to take even mediocre movies and make them compelling.

That being said, I truly love Girl, Interrupted; especially the way in which it tests boundaries, allows for characters to broken and unapologetic. But these people are incredibly likeable, seductive despite their demons, and similar to the novel (a true story) that it was based on, there aren't happy endings; and everyone's loose ends weren't always tied. It leaves you questioning humanity and its intricacies, its eccentricities; the way it lives, breathes, lashes out like a wild animal struggling to survive.

So many doctors still disagree and argue about the concept of mental illness. They found the movie controversial, stereotypical. But you can't take everything at face value, I took this movie for all of its themes, bare portrayals and ideas.

Not to mention Angelina Jolie acted her ass off!

I guess maybe the reason that I enjoyed this movie so intensely is because I've had personal experiences with many people with mental disorders, addictions, and social problems. Sometimes you struggle with the notions of responsibility, blame, misunderstanding, and that's what makes us human. It makes all of the other problems in the world seem so black and white, seem too immense or too small. It is tragic, but it is also reality. People can be so intriguing and yet so damaging.

Due to my melancholy mood, I decided to revisit the movie, fall in love with Angelina all over again, and pay homage to her fantastic performance with a few of my favorite lines:

Susanna: [narrating] Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you had the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought your train moving while sitting still? Maybe I was just crazy. Maybe it was the 60's. Or maybe I was just a girl... interrupted.

Lisa: You think your free? I'm free! You don't know what freedom is! I'm free. I can breathe. And you... will choke on your average fuckin' mediocre life!

Susanna: What the fuck are you doing Lisa?
Lisa: Playing the villain, baby, just like you want. I try to give you everything you want.
Susanna: No you don't.
Lisa: You wanted your file, I found you your file. You wanted out, I got you out. You needed money, I found you some. I'm fucking consistent! I told you the truth! I didn't write it down in a fucking book! I told you to your face. And I told Daisy to her face - what everybody knew and wouldn't say, and she killed herself. And I played the fucking villain, just like you wanted.
Susanna: Why would I want that?
Lisa: Because it makes you the good guy, sweet pea.

Georgina: Lisa? Is Daisy really getting out? Lisa: Yeah, she coughed up a big one.
Susanna: But how could - I mean she's... insane.
Lisa: Yeah, well that's what ther-rape-me's all about. That's why fuckin' Freud's picture's on every shrink's wall. He created a fuckin' industry. You lie down, you confess your secrets and you're saved. Ka-ching! The more you confess, the more they think about settin' you free. Susanna: But what if you don't have a secret?
Lisa: Then you're a lifer, like me.

Lisa: You know, there's too many buttons in the world. There's too many buttons and they're just- there's way too many just begging to be pressed. They're just begging to be pressed, you know? They're just - they're just begging to be pressed. And it makes me wonder, it really makes me fucking wonder, why doesn't anyone ever press mine? Why am I so neglected? Why doesn't anyone reach in and rip out the truth and tell me that I'm a fucking whore, or that my parents wish I were dead!
Susanna: Because you're dead already, Lisa!

Valerie: Did you enjoy the fresh air Lisa?
Lisa: Yeah I did Val. Thanks.
Valerie: Good, 'cause it's the last time you're leaving the ward.
Lisa: Is that a dare or a double dare?

Susanna: [reading from a book] "Borderline Personality Disorder. An instability of self-image, relationships and mood... uncertain about goals, impulsive in activities that are self-damaging, such as casual sex."
Lisa: I like that.
Susanna: "Social contrariness and a generally pessimistic attitude are often observed." [pauses] Susanna: Well that's me.
Lisa: That's everybody.

Lisa: We are very rare and we are mostly men.
Janet: Lisa thinks she's hot shit cause she's a sociopath.
Cynthia: I'm a sociopath.
Lisa: No, you're a dyke.

Lisa: Take one fuckin' step and I'll jam this in my aorta. [aiming a pen at her neck]
Valerie: Lisa, your aorta is in your chest.
Lisa: Good to know.

Ah, the simple beauty of it all. Well, on a side note I looked up a 'diag-nonsense' of Borderline Personality Disorder. According to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), it is this:

"Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a serious mental illness characterized by pervasive instability in moods, interpersonal relationships, self-image, and behavior. This instability often disrupts family and work life, long-term planning, and the individual's sense of self-identity. Originally thought to be at the "borderline" of psychosis, people with BPD suffer from a disorder of emotion regulation. While a person with depression or bipolar disorder typically endures the same mood for weeks, a person with BPD may experience intense bouts of anger, depression, and anxiety that may last only hours, or at most a day. These may be associated with episodes of impulsive aggression, self-injury, and drug or alcohol abuse. Distortions in cognition and sense of self can lead to frequent changes in long-term goals, career plans, jobs, friendships, gender identity, and values. Sometimes people with BPD view themselves as fundamentally bad, or unworthy. They may feel unfairly misunderstood or mistreated, bored, empty, and have little idea who they are. Such symptoms are most acute when people with BPD feel isolated and lacking in social support, and may result in frantic efforts to avoid being alone."

I don't know about you, but this sounds just like me on my period!

I just think all of these doctors need to stop medicating people and start listening. A good dose of Klonopin will put you to sleep, but when you wake up, things are exactly the same. Being bored, empty, or unsure is not an appropriate reason to pull out a prescription pad. Sometimes we all go a little crazy.

End rant, remove soapbox.

(Angelina, I heart you.)

Why Margaret Cho is My Hero(ine)...

Margaret Cho was recently on an episode of Chelsea Lately (my obsession), and talked about her new show The Cho Show, airing on vH1. While doing so she made me literally laugh outloud and spew juice out of my nose and onto my dog. The following statements are merely highlights, but seriously, my nose still hurts and my dog has been giving me the stink eye for an hour...

On Sam Ronson and Lindsay Lohan: "I'd like to guest star in that bed! I hope Ronson's a really butch top, and oooh I hope she's bossy...But I don't really like threesomes because they make me feel like a competitive eater."

On The Cho Show: "...Did I mention I'm naked in every episode? No, seriously."

On her parents: "Well my parents were kind of nervous about being on the show. Because at first they thought they were getting Punk'd. But you have to understand, in Korea getting Punk'd means getting taken out to a field and being shot in the head."

On doing a reality show: "Well it's a reality show, but it's it's like the Hills, but we have eyes."

WATCH HER SHOW!..that's really all I can say, I have to go clean up juice.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

The Phelps Diet.

If you're looking for the next diet craze...

Don't look here.

Olympic Gold Medalist Swimmer Michael Phelps eats 12,000 calories a day, more than the average person should eat in an entire week. And a typical day looks like this:

Breakfast: Three fried-egg sandwiches loaded with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions and mayonnaise. Two cups of coffee. One five-egg omelet. One bowl of grits. Three slices of French toast topped with powdered sugar. Three chocolate-chip pancakes.

Lunch: One pound of enriched pasta. Two large ham and cheese sandwiches with mayo on white bread. Energy drinks packing 1,000 calories.

Dinner: One pound of pasta. An entire pizza. More energy drinks.

Mmmm. Chocolate-chip pancakes. I might take up swimming...or just get fat.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Great News!

Even I can't find any sarcastic or cynical way to comment on this story. Besides the fact that I had to read the article 3 times to completely understand it, this is just awesome news in AIDS research:

"Woman May Hold Secret to AIDS Vaccine By Maggie Fox, Reuters

A woman who has never shown symptoms of infection with the AIDS virus may hold the secret to defeating the virus, U.S. researchers said on Tuesday.

Infected at least 10 years ago by her husband, the woman is able somehow to naturally control the deadly and incurable virus -- even though her husband must take cocktails of strong HIV drugs to control his.

She is a so-called "elite suppressor," and studies of her immune cells have begun to offer clues to how her body does it, the team at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore said.

"This is the best evidence to date that elite suppressors can have fully pathogenic virus," said Dr. Joel Blankson, who led the study.
"The feeling was initially that they had defective virus," Blankson added in a telephone interview.

But the couple has been monogamous for at least 17 years, Blankson said, and tests show they are infected with the same strain of virus. What is different is the immune system of the wife, who cannot be named for privacy reasons.
"That's a good sign in terms of developing a therapeutic vaccine," Blankson said. Such a vaccine would not prevent infection but might be used to treat patients.

The AIDS virus infects at least 33 million people globally and more than a million in the United States. It has killed 25 million people since it was identified in the early 1980s.

New figures show 56,000 people are infected every year in the United states, mostly gay and bisexual men but also injecting drug users and their sexual partners, both male and female, as well as newborns and recipients of contaminated blood transfusions.

Both the man and the woman, who are from Baltimore, were diagnosed 10 years ago, Blankson said. The husband is a former injecting drug user.
Tests showed that immune cells known as CD8 T-cells from the wife stalled HIV replication by as much as 90 percent, while the husband's T-cells stopped it by only 30 percent, Blankson's team reported in the Journal of Virology.

Her virus has also mutated in apparent response to this immune attack, becoming weaker, while her husband's virus has remained strong.
"Elite suppression offers clues to vaccine researchers on many fronts: how CD8 killer T-cells can attack HIV and how a stronger immune response can force HIV into a permanent defensive state," Blankson said.

"We are trying to figure out exactly how the T-cells work in her to inhibit viral replication," he added. "We are just trying to see what kind of cytokines they make."

Cytokines are immune system signaling proteins. One thing the researchers have noticed is that while the husband's T-cells make just one, called gamma interferon, hers made both that one and another called TNF, or tumor necrosis factor.
That cannot be the whole story, though, because AIDS researchers have tried using such immune system proteins in patients and they did not work well.

And her immune cells seem to make the response only when they encounter the virus.
Another clue: the woman may have unusual activity in her human leukocyte antigen system, or HLA, Blankson said. This important component of the immune system helps recognize antigens -- protein identifiers -- of enemies such as bacteria and viruses.

Copyright 2008, Reuters"

The human body is freaking AMAZING. For the full article go here:

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


Holy crap America, the CW network is bringing back Beverly Hills, 90210! But, it's newer, hipper, more provocative! They even took the "Beverly Hills" out of the title! Why? Because we should just know! That's how hot it is!

Wait a second...

Is anyone else completely unexcited!!?

I thought so.

At this point I have to seriously ask. Do mid-pubescent, pretentious, morally irresponsible, upper-middle class teenagers with dysfunctional families live anywhere outside the state of California? Or is the weather just better there? Thank you Gossip Girl for expanding the geographic spectrum of rich kids gone bad, but if I have to watch another coming-of-age-with-my-trust fund drama, I might throw a hammer through my TV screen.

Hey, we get it, you're wealthy and you still have problems. Your parents aren't home, they buy your affection. Money won't bring you happiness, blah, blah, blah. It's like listening to an album of remixes to the same song. Are they just running out of ideas?

The only aspect of this revamped teenage debacle that elated me, was that Tori Spelling got the boot. If you have watched even five minutes of her reality show, you would agree that the world has had enough.

"At this time, there are no plans for Tori to appear in the 90210 spinoff," her rep told US Weekly. Apparently, Spelling aka Donna Summer pulled out after learning that co-stars Jennie Garth and Shannen Doherty were earning $35,000-$50,000 per episode, while she was only earning $10,000-$20,000. Perhaps the disparity in the paydays has something to to with the fact that NO ONE likes Tori Spelling! But that's purely speculation on my part.

At any rate, I've taken the liberty of assembling a list of ingredients, if you will, that I require in order for me to take an iota of interest in this doomed reincarnation a la "Saved By the Bell: The New Class."

In no particular order:

More than one African American person (it may be Beverly Hills, but I'm sure there are at least 2).

An Asian person (please see above).

Any other minority whatsoever (just to reiterate my point).

A lesbian that last more than 3 episodes without dropping out of school


A gay male who we aren't forced to watch not make the football team because uh oh, they find out he's gay.

Basically, all I ask is for a little more representation, I can only watch so many hours of white boys with bad haircuts driving nice cars and fighting over the same girls.

CW, I appreciate you for you plethora of MILFs, the exile of Tori Spelling, as well as the return of my beloved Shannen Doherty. But if you do not surpass my dire expectations, I just might have to write a letter...or think really, really hard about writing a letter. Okay, fine, I just won't watch the show. But you've been warned!

Friday, August 8, 2008

Rosemary's...I mean, Clay Aiken's Baby..

I completely recovered from the absurdity that not only was Clay Aiken planning to breed (articially, of course) with a 40-something record producer, but he was also still claiming to be straight.

But by far the most unsettling result is that his son was born at 8:08am on 8/08/08...if this "family" doesn't need an exorcism soon, I'll faint in disbelief.