Thursday, November 22, 2007

Ungrateful Shit

The holiday season is arguably the most interesting time of the year. Extended families gathering, justifications for obesity climbing, and suicide rates at an all time yearly high; holidays always hit the spot.

Sarcasm I aside, I admit my overwhelming pessimism makes me incapable of feeling, emoting, or reciprocating any semblance of love (real or otherwise) and thus, the season of giving thanks is all but lost on me. I completely understand it, hell, at times I feel like I'm a sucker for a good old fashioned Jimmy Stewartification of my seemingly pointless existence. Then I remember to breathe, turn on the light, and look in the mirror...and well...yeah...

Random musings....

I have yet to catch last night's episode of "Project Runway" (or "ProRun" as my illustrious colleague refers to it) but I did get a gander at part of it, something about Manolo FootFace being a fashion icon or some shit...either way, that fat gay dude (whose name I'll soon learn, remember, and eventually faind charming) is hilarious.

Other note: I do not like Heidi Klum. CORRECTION: I DID not like Heidi Klum. She's a fake blonde, big boobed German supermodel whose interviews have been far from illuminating, interesting, nor sexy in that mysterious-I'm-an-angry-bitch-who-is-using-my-career-in-being-good-looking-as-a-means-of-getting-back-at-people-and-my-dad. I was more in Tyra when I was younger (though holy shit, who saw that truck pulling a big fucking 180), Laetitia Casta, cause she seemed to have this pretentious French air that was condescendingly alluring, and Josie Moran, who simply put, was just a hot, psycho bitch, which is always extra hotter.

Anyway, so yeah, Klum always has been just a symbol of bimbo-ery for as long as I've known of her...until the emergence of "ProRun." Her shitty flirtatious fake blonde bombshell turn on talk shows, shameless promotion of her Seal-approved utopian relationship, and her inability to have anything interesting to actually say should make me hate her, irregardless of whether or not she happens to host a catty reality show I secretly enjoy.

But I can't.

Something about her on the show, her presence, her inability to give any imput that hasn't already been echoed by someone else on the judges panel, her ability to look fucking hot while pregnant almost every season make her?

My inner elitist intellectual struggles with this attraction, an empty, wanton desire that has no logic or reason in my makeshift pretentious world.

I actually like dumb airheaded bitches who go on national television campaigns playing with their cans as if they were guns and firing them into the camera as means of selling underwear as well as reminding young girls what they will never be, no matter how much vomiting or surgery they go through.

Kill me now.

Oh yeah, and Happy Thanksgiving.

1 painful displays of affection:

Stella November 28, 2007 at 11:18 PM  
This comment has been removed by the author.

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