Gossip Girl

I don't like to gossip here on this site, but I admit, I do my fair share of guilty pleasure TMZ-ing. And, once a week, I get to curl up with favorite gossip rag, US Weekly.

I rely on US for hard hitting journalism like their "Stars with Bangs!" expose or ridiculous diets that could kill me. US Weekly Magazine is there to help keep the Jen vs. Angelina feud alive and to keep me up to date on Lindsay's latest leggings.

I don't even mind that they put those Hills chicks on the cover sometimes, even if I still refuse to learn who they are.

But I think it's lame-ity lame how US is now putting politicians all over their magazine. US is my escape. I've enjoyed their careful cocktail of fluffy stories about A-listers and Z-listers, and everyone in between.

So please, no more politicians unless they are like, dating Madonna.

I know, I know, technically I talked a little politics myself election week so I don't mean to be a hypocrite, but c'mon! Enough already.

Don't get me wrong - I care about how President Obama is going to clean up the country, but I would prefer to read about it elsewhere. And I definitely don't care to read the EXCLUSIVE (!) from his barber that he doesn't care about going gray.

As for me, no gray area here, US Magazine. If your subject has anything to do with voting, stick to American Idol.

No Longer In Fashion

Even with all its gloss, NBC has pulled the plug on Lipstick Jungle.

Some thoughts as NBC says auf wiedersehen to the Jungle so they can focus on reviving dead guys on ER from like 5 seasons ago instead of investing in decent new shows:

I'm going to miss living vicariously through these chicks with the fake sounding names (Victory Ford? Really?) who conquered NYC with their power jobs and still seemed to have time for 3 martini lunches like every day. Wouldn't it be cool to have their jobs?

I'm going to miss obsessing over Andrew McCarthy's face. I still can't figure out what's different about it from his St. Elmo's days and was looking forward to finally figuring it out.

But mostly, I'm going to miss seeing Brooke Shields. I've always been rooting for Brooke, even if she did chuck her feud with Tommy Cruise to attend his alien wedding.

I know Brooke will be ok though. This girl has staying power.

But, please, oh please, do NOT let her and her Calvins become Suddenly...Susan.

15 minutes

Everybody wants their 15 minutes of fame.

Or so it seems.

As I scour every nook and cranny of the employment universe, I have no choice but to include Craig'sList on my daily go-to list of "job" sites. Yes, Craig'sList, that of the get rich quick schemes and a damn good place to sell that dresser you've been hangin' onto since you were like 16.

I've discovered something that maybe you already know: there is a show about everything. EVERYTHING. And if there isn't a show about it, someone, somewhere is trying to make one. A random sample of ads calling out to me this week alone:

LOVE YOUR MUTT BUT WISH YOU KNEW ITS BREED? NAT’L TV SHOW! - (NYC)

DO YOU HATE YOUR LIPS? - (NYC)

EVER HAD YOUR BIKE STOLEN? (Downtown)

Well, all this does is reinforce the fact that I am not going to find a job on Craigs List, nor am I going to get to be on TV. I mean, I don't have a dog, but if I did, I'm not sure I would want to put it on the Animal Planet version of "Roots". I actually like my lips, so, that's out, too. No one ever swiped my bike, but I'm pretty sure if I went on tv to talk about it, the extent of it would go something like this: "That sucked". The End. Let's be honest, no one's watching that.

I'm really not trying to hate on CraigsList. Just cause I don't wanna go on any of these (really boring sounding) shows doesn't mean there aren't REAL jobs to be found.

Here's a personal fave :
Wildlife Experts Needed For New Cable Series (National)

Northern California television production company is actively seeking wildlife experts with backgrounds in Evolutionary Biology, Ecology, and Zoology to be featured in a new cable network show. We are searching for individuals with personality, passion, and above all, a proven track record in researching and investigating genetic mutations.

Now, there's just one problem. I might be going out on a limb here, but I'm guessing that any wildlife experts, particularly ones with a proven track record in genetic mutations, aren't trolling CraigsList for jobs.

I, however, AM. So, if you see any postings offering up millions for chick bloggers who like to talk about tv...

Good Vibrations

I'm declaring the 90's officially back.

First, the 90210 reprise (no matter how crappy it is). Then, rumblings of the return of Melrose Place (please, PLEASE bring back Andrew Shue).

Today, NBC was trying to get some traction by hinting that maybe, just maybe, George might make a quick return to ER's final season after all.

Yeah, right.

This got me thinking, if only, if only, they could just resurrect Seinfeld, it would be the perfect storm of 90's bliss.

I know we've made, um, quantum leaps since the end of Seinfeld (TEN years ago!), but I swear not a day goes by when I don't have some kind of incident that makes me feel like I'm in an actual episode.

Like today.

It was one of those non-spoken high noon type stand-offs in the laundry room. You know the kind I mean. I'm waiting for a machine. The weird lady folding her giant granny panties knows I'm waiting for a machine, yet no one says anything.

And so I wait. She knows I'm waiting. I know she knows I know she knows I'm waiting.

And still I wait.

Sigh.

I miss when Seinfeld would relish these moments in all their high waisted-jean glory. Since I know it ain't comin' back, I guess I'll have to just be content with other 90's-esque satisfaction, like a Democrat in the White House.

And in the meantime, I guess I'll just return to My So-Called Life.

Our Way, Yes Our Way

Sometimes, you have to just let things go. And so I shouldn't want to mess with the memory of last night's historically significant election and muck it up with my own issues.

But I can't help it.

I know I shouldn't admit how troubled I am with Michelle Obama's decision to wear a frock that evoked some kind of checkerboard/tie dye/superhero mashup on one of the most important nights of her life.

And I really shouldn't admit that every time NBC cut to Ann Curry in that graphically weird virtual reality colosseum, I couldn't focus on the results because I kept expecting Princess Leah to appear in a laser beam of light pleading "Help me Obi-wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

But mostly, I really shouldn't admit that although I thought Barack's speech was pretty stellar, it woulda been SO MUCH COOLER if he just recited the Laverne and Shirley theme song. Is it just ME, or wouldn't that have kinda worked, too?

Give us any chance, we'll take it.
Give us any rule, we'll break it.
We're gonna make our dreams come true.
Doin' it our way.

Nothin's gonna turn us back now,
Straight ahead and on the track now.
We're gonna make our dreams come true,
Doin' it our way.

There is nothing we won't try,
Never heard the word impossible.
This time there's no stopping us.
We're gonna do it.

On your mark, get set, and go now,
Got a dream and we just know now,
We're gonna make our dream come true.
And we'll do it our way, yes our way.
Make all our dreams come true,
And do it our way, yes our way,
Make all our dreams come true
For me and you.

Yes, he could've! Ok, fine. I won't quit my day job.

Damnit, I don't have a day job. Hurry President Obama, fix the economy!!!!

Stella's Got Her Groove Back

I am feeling like Carrie Bradshaw more than usual.

And by usual, I mean in that way that my non-NYC acquaintances say "You are just like Carrie Bradshaw!" because they think I run around in Manolo's (I wish), drink cosmos (more of an Amstel Light gal) and party with celebrities (the closest I've come to that is when the REAL Aidan a.k.a. John Corbett screamed at me on a city street because he was convinced I was following him like a crazy stalker, even though I was actually just trying to cross the street during the NYC Marathon...along with about 3 thousand other people. Note to John Corbett: though your post-Sex and the City gig as the VO guy on Applebee's commercials IS impressive, it's not quite enough to lure me in.)

Anyhoo, the other night one of my readers approached me at a party, and he was worried about my blog. He was concerned that now that I've been mentioning a boyfriend on the blog, it might change the tone and piss people off. Listen, I know Carrie chucked her dating column (don't I write a TV one, BTW?) when she ran off to Paris to be with that Russian dude on Sex and the City, but let's not forget once she ended up with Mr. Big, she wrote a bunch of successful books.

Seems to me like it was a win-win for everybody.

Back in the real world, I may not be Carrie, but I am here to alleviate your fears. Single or not, nothing's going to change. In fact, I am going to make you a few promises, which I pledge to keep (yeah, yeah, me and today's candidates....did you vote yet????).

I promise to continue to call out shows I think are jumping the shark (This means YOU How I Met Your Mother. Enough with the 'One to Grow On'-type wrap-uppy VO's at the end of every ep, more Barney. Thanks.)

I promise to temper flaunting my occasional achievements (I ran 6 miles on the treadmill today!) with totally embarrassing pop-culture references (had Britney's 'Gimme More' on auto repeat through about 90% of that run).

I promise to continue to randomly dredge up 80's crap for no reason and then torture you with the theme song that you won't be able to get out of your head for the rest of the day, like this one from Family Ties.

In short, I promise to be...Just Me. After all, what would we do, baby, without us?