Stevie Knows Best

Bottom line, I love this ad. From the use of the respectable Stevie Wonder in place of a hospital room to the denim jacket. It's simply great. That is all there is to say.

The Webs SOME Weave (If you have no interest in The Hills, not for you)

I don't think all the crystals in all of the world could heal Speidi, Spencer and Heidi Pratt that is. This season on The Hills, (yes I watch the girls who coined the phrase "I feel like..," and have become famous due to their talent of sipping Starbucks and tanning, oh and driving BMW's, not going to lie - envy their lifestyle)...anyways this season it is official Mr. & Mrs. Pratt have checked into Crazytown.

Spencer wears more crystals than found in all the caves in North America combined, not to mention more obnoxious rings than all the Sopranos family members. Heidi has confessed that Barbie was essentially her model for her 10 plastic surgeries, which, as her step-father so clearly stated, left her looking frozen. Tonight the pair took their new found obsession of new age healing to a whole new level - let me just say they are one step away from being the Jehovah Witnesses who go door to door attempting to spread the story of Jesus. The only difference is Speidi decided to start preaching the miracles of new medicine at a club in Hollywood when meeting up with some of their "pals." (They are clearly great advocates for this lifestyle because their lives are the epitome of perfection and serenity.) They arrived not only drenched in mafia rings but LARGE crystals (note the plural) adorning them like ornaments on a Christmas tree - each carrying a different "power" with it. My favorite that Heidi mentioned was the one that protects you while you're in a war torn area, because clearly you need that in a club in Hollywood.

(Note in this picture the multiple rings, crystal in hand-obviously warding off all bad things/negative energy & spirits, necklaces, tye-dye shirt, hemp bracelets and serial killer-esqe eyes. Photo from: The Hollywood Gossip)

I think it is safe to say the events of Speidi no longer classify as "reality" TV, because they are so far away from reality. And I truly feel sorry for anyone who has witnessed them drift first hand the way we have seem them do on The Hills to fulfill our entertainment needs.

Karma

Since his comeback to the world of golf Tiger has been playing sub par (to do a little play on words) to his normal athletic abilities. He has dropped out of the The Player Championship because of his neck problems that could be a complication of his car accident in November. He has not had a history of neck problems, knee issues he has had, but he has not been shooting the ball as far and has finally figured out the problem....his neck issue is just now taking a precedence in his life since November.

He says that he has been playing through it and cannot do so any longer, yes I am still talking about his golf game not his personal life. But now that I mention it, I know that everyone says that what Mr. Woods does in his personal life does not affect him as a golfer and I absolutely agree. But now that his neck has been acting up, it may be time to examine all possibilities here. I mean logically, the car accident was in November, he has had multiple mistresses of many ages, he is 34 - I think it only proper to question the sexual practices of these rondevues with the mistresses. What exactly were they doing and at any point did Tiger say that a particular maneuver hurt his neck, something like "it just doesn't bend that way anymore" - (in relation to his neck). I'm just saying, it is possible he was doing some activities that compromised the mobility/health of his neck. And we all know Karma sure can be a bitch.

(Photo above from:http://www.obit-mag.com/media/image/tiger-woods-knee-injury-golf-pain-vl-vertical.jpg)

Confession: Awkward

Well. Honestly, I am a little awkward, ok pretty awkward. I have recently moved to the east coast, and have been putting social mel in hibernation a bit while I look for work. Today was the first time I had the opportunity to go out socially with a group of girls for the first time. It was with a cousin and her friends about my age, I thought super, its Cinco de Mayo, why not. So I go. At first I fear I am giving the impression of a stuck up bitch from CA due to my lack of input into the conversation, in my defense I was voted softest speaker in 6th grade.

There was a moment of silence. At this juncture I take it upon myself to bring up a conversation topic, so naturally I bring up how it is unfair to compare Chicago deep dish style pizza to NY style pizza. I launch into to a rather detailed account of each of the pies and then into how they are two completely different forms of meal in and of themselves. Being a food connoisseur I was excited about the topic and did not realize I was dominating the conversation the entire time, while others at the table exchanged nervous glances with one another, with the expression of who the f is she in their eyes. I then decide it was best to quickly wrap up the conversation, but to do so I has to finish my points or else I would've have had no courage or gusto in my "profound" argument, and hence the theory would not have been spread to their friends.

Immediately after I took a large gulp of water wishing it was something stronger, I noticed how awkward it was to start a conversation about a pizza comparison with people who are practically strangers. Thus, I will not hold my breath waiting for "the girls" to call me this weekend - they must be thinking if I was like that sober I must be a horrible drunk.

Its Modern.

Last week I ventured to MoMA - the Museum of Modern Art. I can probably name three artists in the history of art, Andy Warhol, Da Vinci and Picasso - so let me start by saying this is how well versed in art culture I am.

After seeing Exit Through the Gift Shop, I probably have a greater respect for street art as art than some of the pieces, and

displays throughout MoMA. For example I came to a room that had framed pieces of "white space," as the showcased works. To me they looked like canvases in a black frame hung with not thought to walls. Then at the end of the room there was a CRAYON drawing of a blue snake (using only one crayon as the medium) that I'm pretty sure was dug up from my kindergarten artwork collection. What was even more amazing while I was staring at these pieces "taking them in for all their glory" was there were multiple groups that strolled by commenting on how profound and insightful these canvases were. I have to believe they were just saying that because that is what you are supposed to say in an art museum. Calling these works profound would be like saying Snookie is a credible actress - according to my non-artistic eyes.

That being said, there was one art in "motion" piece I could just not wrap my head around. I did not see what part about the piece required artistic talent - as you will find the further you read, any 3 year old who has competed in a starring contest could've made this "work of art." There were two ladies sitting at a table in the middle of the square with lights beaming down on them simply staring at one another, completely stone faced. They sit like this for 8 hours a day for 3 months - no bathroom or food breaks. The signage around their display indicated the she was a pioneer in this "exciting" field, I figure she is a pioneer because who else would want to subject themselves to feeling like a goldfish for 8 hours a day for three months. (Note that the lady in red is the pioneer artist and the other is a volunteer - which raises questions about sanity in and of itself about the volunteer). I mean with everyone watching them in their closed off space they had to have had similar thoughts to what my goldfish Otis thinks on a day to day basis. The good news is that as a spectator you are part of the art - so I am more than thrilled to say that I assisted in blazing the trail for this new found art form. Another thing I found odd was they were not even sitting in Lazy Boys, or recliners - but small, hard, wooden chairs.

Apparently this is a well respected form of art amongst the community who have a developed right side of the brain. My cousin who is an art major went into class only to hear about this wonderful display at the MoMA entitled "The Artist is Present." I am glad that there are people who are able to respect artwork like this. All I can say about it that it's modern. (With all due respect if this is the way modern art is going, I'll stick to Banksy and his street art - I see the flava in that.)

Spring is in the Air

I have finally come to appreciate why people on the east coast go crazy over the spring and summer - to do a annoying play on words, there seems to be a bit more spring in everyone's step. After a week of horrible rain that caused people to get around by boat, the trees are blooming, the sun is shining and weather.com reports 79 and sunny by Wednesday. Being from California I never thought I would be one to become weather obsessed, but for all you who migrated West due to the cold, I get it.

A new show that has started airing during this glorious season is Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. Oliver went to the most obese town in America and is attempting to reform the eating patterns in the public schools. I do not think the show would take off as it has if Oliver were not British. There is something about discipline coming with an English accent that makes it more credible - the same concept was used for Supernanny. If the host for either of the shows was American born, their direction would not be as well received. The new rules spoken in a British accent make them the right thing, and the proper thing, because the English accent is proper. A drunkard with an English accent looks sober in comparison to a Boston lush. Oliver's attempt to relate to the young American kids is excessive use of the word "Brotha," not brother, its brotha, with emphasis on the tha. Right on Oliver.

Speaking of proper, a New York Senator is also making a campaign to get the American kids up to snuff by "Stopping the Sag." He notes that the first indicator of a trouble maker is the amount of sag their pants give...in Virginia there was a campaign saying "Your Swag is as low as Your Sag." I like this one because again, like Oliver's obsession with "Brotha" he is getting down to the lingo of the kids.

All and all I think dieting in America's youth is a bigger problem than the sag....being Marky Mark is no longer on the scene I have seen a slow fade of the sag. Maybe if someone got a British host to do a show on proper dressing with the saggers of America, then we would see a real reform, but I think until there is the credential of the English accent pants will continue to sag.

My Attempted Life as a Hybrid of Friends and Sex in the City

Today concludes my first official week on the east coast. For now I am a bridge and tunneler, commuting in from the Jersey side, with hopes of soon landing a job and becoming a Manhattanite. The commute isn't bad, only 30 minutes, but its spending my 20s commuting into Manhattan, not spending my 20s in Manhattan -- but all in due time, for in Susan Boyle's words I dreamed a Dream...lets just hope mine happens before I hit middle age status, as she did.

I went into the city everyday last week, and walked all over the upper east side, got lost on the westside and stopped for a bagel in midtown. As I refused to take my mother's advice and bring a pair of shoes to change into when my feet got tired from the heels, I figured if SJP could conquer the city in heels, so could I. Wrong, so very wrong. (And mom I do apologize, I lied and told you that I brought shoes to change into, I didn't). My feet at killing me - so mom you win, again. Still, it was a wonderful feeling to talk down 5th Ave in heels. I went to a coffee shops a few times throughout the week, solo and very unlike the popular sitcom Friends. I got sat next to while waiting for a friend, a horrible experience - I always knew to avoid the getting sat next to for this exact reason. This fella, who must have came from a country where dental care was minimal, went on to explain how he plans to open a restaurant that is unlike anything here in Manhattan, and he would know because he has been here for 2.5 weeks and has eaten at every eatery...and nothing compares to what he plans to open. Couple of things. NYC is one of the eating capitals of the world, people plan their days and weeks around where and with whom they will do lunch. He wants his future wife to step in and waitress and do dishes so he does not have to pay too many upfront fees....at this I thought how great can he really make a place if he is looking to slave drive his wife to save a couple extra dollars. He then asked if I was single, before he even finished the sentence I nearly shouted taken. At this point I pretty much got up with no excuse other than a hand gesture that I was done here, and luckily my lunch date had arrived. I do hope for his sake he proves me wrong, and his restaurant is one of NYC's greatest---I'll keep my eyes out for his Russian cuisine to take the city by storm.

Everyone has been very nice and helpful, I even got 5 free postcards from a kind gentleman working a small gift shop...so those of you who share the passion of getting postal mail as I do....keep your eyes out. I have to imagine, other than the fact the characters are fictional and literally appeared on a sheet of paper out of no where, that IF they were real, there is no way they started living their fab city lifestyles right away, they had to B&T it for a bit, or live roach infested closet sized apartment status to save up the green to enter into the realm of totally fab. So soon enough I will be amongst the ranks of some of the greats NYC fictional characters to have ever been written.