Pop Princess and Wife Beater Queen

Now this is the lovable Britney Spears I remember...

Dave Letterman Top 10 Reasons to Watch Britney & Kevin: Chaotic
10. Britney: There's never-before-seen footage of me wrestling an alligator.
9. Kevin: Unlike those "Desperate Housewives" chicks, we're not, like, 60 years old.
8. Britney: It's like "American Idol" except no one sleeps with Paula Abdul.
7. Kevin: In the first episode, you can see my ass.
6. Britney: I'm hot.
5. Kevin: She's hot.
4. Britney and Kevin: We haven't had nearly enough media coverage.
3. Britney: It's gotta be better than this show.
2. Kevin: If enough people tune in, maybe my wife will make out with Madonna again.
1. Britney: In the season finale, you'll find out that Dave is the father of my baby -- oops.

Darwin Nominee of the Day

A man jumped off the Eiffel Tower last night, intending to use a parachute and promote clothing, and died when the 'chute got snagged and detached after he jumped. (see CNN article). Common sense says don't jump in the first place, but if you still feel compelled, common sense might have you triple checking your equipment. Though they do say truly smart people lack common sense. Just a thought to ponder.

On a more interesting note from the article:

"Franz Reichel, a mustachioed Austrian tailor, was killed leaping from the first deck in 1912 to test a tent-like parachute coat he had invented. He is said to have died of fright before hitting the ground."

No word on how old this man actually was.

The Fountainhead, All Wet?

This weekend I finally finished reading The Fountainhead, the famous book by Ayn Rand that almost everyone else in the country read long ago, before me, and "LOVE love love love love loved" it.

The book is 800 long pages, and I labored through it for about a month, including a week haitus when I couldn't take it anymore, and finally found some chapters at the very end that captivated me enough to say I couldn't put the book down (maybe 50 pages, total).

I generally don't go around trash-talking about books that are commonly accepted as wonderful, but I honestly need to call this an overrated novel. Maybe it's because I became predisposed to hating it because so many random strangers on public transit insisted on interrupting me to mention how much they love the book. Maybe it's because everyone says the exact same thing and has the exact same opinions about the book, which, ironically enough, seems to contradict what Ms. Rand so thoroughly and relentlessly promotes. Maybe it's because I don't personally have the patience for a repetitive, slow-moving soap opera with characters I can't quite care about.

This isn't to say that I don't find the writing style to be eloquent, or that I lack appreciation for the ideal presented. I think the concept of selfishness for the greater good is fascinating, as do lovers of Ayn Rand works. Anyone who has ever been made to feel inadequate would logically feel this way. I don't discredit the effort to create such a lengthy, epic tale, but I feel like a few of the hours spent reading this would have been better spent elsewhere.

And you wonder what I'm doing instead of blogging. ;)

Foot in mouth disease... the plague returns

Last night I went out and finally got the chance to meet my boyfriend's close friend who was in town for the night. Not that friends should really be a relationship determinant, but you still never want your significant other's friends to hate you. So, of course, unknowingly, I spit out something completely rude. Basic conversation dialogue as follows:

Him: Where are you from originally?
Me: Connecticut.
Him: The only thing they have there are prep schools and farms.
Me: That's not totally true...
Him: It definitely is.
Me: Well... there actually is this prep-boarding school in my town, but the only people that go there are kids from the rich CT towns whose parents don't want them.
Him: Which school is that?
Me: Choate.
Him: I went there.

Crap. What are the odds of that happening?

I would like to register an official complaint about the general population of NYC (particularly females) who feel that, after having one (count it, one) freakishly warm April day (Wednesday, April 20, 82 degrees), the skank tanks and short shorts should be scavenged from the depths of storage and worn outdoors (even though the temperature has dropped to a more characteristic 55 degrees, Farenheit).

Let me give some of you a bit of advice. It's April. It's still too gosh darn cold out to be exposing that much of your birthday suit. Especially when, having obviously not completed the age old springtime regiment of burning off the winter jello-belly so as to actually look good wearing such clothing (in June, when summer starts), there is far more birthday suit than the norm being exposed.

Don't get me wrong, this matter wouldn't be so complaint worthy had the hoochie skirts and crop tops went away after that one day. But just because we had one day of lovely weather, somehow it seems that several people have already gone ahead and put all of their spring clothes away never to be seen again. It makes me hope for a freak mid-afternoon blizzard and that causes frostbite in unthinkable places for those less prepared to face the elements.

Introducing...

My random opinions, back on the web again. Who would've thought.