Blogging Blues ...

I was just over on Bunny's site (I'm Just Sayin') and she was given an award for being Sunshiny. Then I went over to Marie's Blog (Dancing in Tattered Shoes), and then I went to Anita's blog (Castles, Crowns and Cottages) ... these three ladies are all friends from high school and their blogs are very ladylike. And I mean that in a very good way. Being that I'm probably seconds way from getting a visit from my comadre, I'm feeling very blue. Check out the above mentioned blogs ... I know you will love them. Bunny is very funny, Marie is very funny as well and a great storyteller and Anita's blog is like stepping into an enchanted and magical French world. I say this only because those of you who read my blog know I use the F word a lot and I am irreverent and sarcastic and ... well, NOT ladylike. And because I'm hormonal and am feeling particularly emotional, I feel sad. I know I have a blog and I put all my feelings out into cyberspace for all the world to read and bloggers LOVE getting comments. For me, it's like the gas that keeps me going. I don't get nearly as many comments as some of my other blogging friends but I think that is because I am not ladylike and I don't blog about decorating and scrapping (really and truly no offense to anyone who likes decorating or scrapping) ... so when I get a comment from someone I don't know and they like my blog or tell me I made them laugh it makes me feel really great. Again, all this emotionality is not only due to hormones but probably also my co-dependent need for approval ... the other day I got a comment from someone I don't know and it was kinda nasty and I felt like ... wow. And it bothered me because I'm really not how I "sound" ... and I totally get that if you read my blog and don't know me you'd probably think I was a horrible, terrible shrew. But still ... it made me feel bad and it got me thinking ... re-examining the way I say things. Sometimes I will re-read a post and think to myself, dayum ... I sound pretty hostile. And yet, on the other hand, I know my friends, those of you who know, me think I'm really funny and you know exactly where I'm coming from because you know me in real life. And that is really comforting because I'm not how I "sound".

Add to this a year and a half of unemployment and there you have it. I:

(a) have too much time on my hands;
(b) have no identity anymore;
(c) am WAY too old to still be getting a period; and
(d) probably need more meds (ba dump bump ... that was meant to be funny)

So ... now that I've VENTED (which, by the way, is the title of my blog) I feel much better. Thank you for listening. To those of you who regularly stop by, and especially to those of you who "get" me, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

XXXOOO

A rerun ... THE BLOCK

As most little girls, I had a very best friend. Denise Rivera and her family moved to Manzanar Avenue when I was 9 years old. The Rivera family had what seemed to me like a hundred and fifty kids but in actuality it was ten (like that's not a lot). This was back in the 1960's when having 3 kids was considered pathetically small. Anyway, the day they moved in was big news because NO ONE NEW had ever moved to our block before. This was very exciting to me. New people! New kids! (This is a picture of the Duggars. Just pretend they're Mexican and call them the Riveras).

Being a nosy little kid I rode my bike to the corner and watched them move in and I'm sure I pestered the shit outta everybody as I asked a billion questions and ... then I saw her ... sitting on the porch with her head in her hands looking very sad and forlorn. She was a pretty little girl with big brown eyes and light brown hair. I walked right up to her and said "what's your name?" ... she barely looked up as she quietly said ... "Denise." From that moment on we were best friends.

As we grew from girlhood into young teenagers our bond became very close and like most girls we were squirrely and weird and no one, NO ONE, could make me laugh like Denise. She took great pride in her ability to make me laugh until I peed in my pants and would torture me as I would plead with her "Noooooo, Denise, stooooooooop". But, just as she had the power to make me laugh until I peed, I was not without powers of my own. I could get Denise to do ANYTHING, and I mean anything.  She trusted me implicitly.  

I once came up with this cockamamie game involving my bike ... I told Denise, "I KNOW, lets you and me ride the bike and I'll tell you where to go but you gotta CLOSE YOUR EYES! ... and she went for this!  And I gotta tell you, Denise was really good at this. She followed my instructions to the tee, turning when I told her to, slowing down when I told her to, she was freaking amazing at this and we only crashed once ... right in front of Bobby Valencia's house ... but that's another story.  After a while I thought to myself ... this is getting boring ... let's make it more interesting ... so I told Denise, "You know what?  How about I sit on the bike facing backward and when I tell you where to go it will be in reverse! So when I say turn left, it really means right, and when I say turn right, it really means left!!!! OKAY?!?!  I still cannot believe I got her to do this shit. 

Once, after we were grown up I begged her to tell me the truth ..."come oooooon, you looked didn't you?! She swore to me that she never did. We did have some close calls though.  Once, riding the bike through the alley doing our reverse instruction thing, I happened to twist around to see where we were headed ... and I saw a metal pole and a brick wall rapidly advancing ... try to picture this ... the handlebars on the bike were either going to clear that pole and the brick wall or we were going to kill ourselves ... I figured hell, if I say anything now we'll crash for sure so I turned around, closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable ... but it never happened! When I opened my eyes we were passing cleanly between the pole and the wall ... we cleared that space with no room to spare!!! It's a freaking miracle with didn't end up with broken bones. To this day she still doesn't believe me when I tell her we passed between that pole and the wall, but I swear it's true!

Another game I invented I called "Wonderland."  The premise of this game is we'd ride our bikes all over town for hours and hours and then we had to go back home EXACTLY THE SAME WAY or be forever lost ... in Wonderland.  STUPID I KNOW, but it was really fun. 
 

I loved the chaos and disorder at Denise's house and she loved the order and efficiency of my mine.  Denise LOVED to spend the night at my house because she said when she woke up in the morning the birds were singing and the bacon was a-crackling. Nothing like her house where there was complete chaos, babies crying, people yelling and kids everywhere.  Whenever I wanted to play with Denise I would stand in front of her house and yell out "DENEEEEEEEEESE!" Once in a while I'd knock on the door but the Rivera's were really weird about certain things ... if you knocked on the door they would answer by barely cracking the door open ... just enough for you to see an eyeball ... "yeah?" me: "can Denise play?" "hold on." BAM! DOOR CLOSED. The Rivera's were weird like that.

Our block had a ton of kids and really was the best neighborhood in the world to grow up on. We all played together and fought together and grew up together. When Denise and I first started noticing boys we both developed a big ol crush on Steve. Steve lived on the corner and had big brown eyes with long, straight eyelashes like a cows. We would come out of Denise's house and when we reached the sidewalk our heads would automatically turn to the left to look toward his house. One summer she and I decided to get a tan by lying on the sidewalk in front of her house. We got our towels, laid them on the sidewalk and layed down. Why we decided to do this in the front yard I have no idea ... but there we were in our little bikini's lying on our towels when along came Steve on his 10 speed. Instead of stopping or breaking when he saw the two of us he just kept going and ran over the entire left side of my body leaving a big ol black tire mark. "STEEEEEEEEEVE!!! YOU STUPID!!!" All I remember was his cackling laughter as he continued down the block. JERK.

The Castaneda's were another big family that lived on the block right across the street from Denise. In the summer the entire block would congregate in the Castaneda's garage. They had a pool table and all summer long we would hang out, play pool and listen to music.  The Castaneda's had a bird bath and a pair of plastic pink flamingos in their front yard and when I was little I would sit on those stupid flamingos and try to ride them. Ernie (the dad), was a short little guy and an ex-boxer. He used to call me Olive Oyl because I was so skinny and he was forever yelling at me not to sit on the flamingos!  Terry was the only only girl in the family and was really, really nice to me. I'd come over and hang out in her room and she would set my hair with her electric rollers and then style my hair into a Gypsy Flip.  I thought I looked so cool. I LOVED Terry, but when she got her first boyfriend I annoyed the crap outta her too. Whenever I would see her and her boyfriend sitting on her front porch I would mosey on over to visit and basically annoy the shit outta her. Terry was probably 16 to my 12 and I'm sure whenever she saw me headed towards her house she probably thought, crap .... here comes little Debbie (that's what they called me). Once, when she was sitting on the porch with her boyfriend John, I decided to go over and talk to them.  And, after studying her nylons for quite some time I told her that they didn't didn't match. She said to me ... "Debbie, how can they not match ... THEY'RE PANTYHOSE." (see ... pain in the ass ... that was me).

One other quick story.  Denise, Jeanette and I went to the carnival in the parking lot of the Shopping Bag supermarket.  WE LOVED the Scrambler.  The three of us get on the ride and as it starts to go faster and faster we started laughing so hard that a bug flew into Denise's mouth and as she coughed and gagged to spit the thing out of her mouth I began to laugh hysterically.  But, I was also trapped on this Scrambler and the worst thing possible happened.  I totally peed in my pants from laughing too much.  I was mortified.  How was I going to get off the Scrambler without everyone noticing?!  I was horrified.  When the ride eventually slowed down and stopped, I asked Denise, and I bent over to show her my tush "CAN YOU TELL?"  Now it was her turn to hysterically laugh.  OF COURSE YOU COULD TELL.  Thank God my mom and dad showed up with my baby sister and I was able to run and hide out in the car.  

OVER AND OUT!   .... 10-4.

Viggo ... *sigh*

A Few Hot Topics

Okay, I feel I really need to address this poor, crazy girl, Heidi Montag. There are before/after pictures, before/after/after, and before/after/after/after pictures. She was a really cute girl before she had anything done. She was beautiful after her first visit to the plastic surgeon and now she looks like WAX. Weird. Beautiful but weird/bizarre beautiful.

This is the original Heidi. Adorable. Beautiful smile. NOTHING WRONG WITH HER.

This is Heidi after her first visit to the surgeon's office. She had her nose done and breast implants. I think she looks BEAUTIFUL. This was perfect. NO NEED TO DO ANYTHING MORE.

This is Heidi now ...

She looks COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. She doesn't look real. She looks like a wax dummy at Madame Tussaud's. And she's only 23! This is troubling on so many levels. First of all, I think the stupid ass doctor who agreed to do 10 procedures at one time should have his license removed. I saw an interview she did where she states she almost died after all those procedures. She now says she feels like plastic, and she can barely open her mouth to speak because her jaw was completely redone, but she still has no regrets (Ay) says she loves her new look and calls it the "new and improved Heidi." NEW AND IMPROVED. That's scary. I'm not against plastic surgery. If you have a big ol nose and wanna change it, I say go for it. If you have no boobs and want some, I say go for it. But this is crazy. We all have things about ourselves that we don't like and we learn to accept them, at least in my day you did. You had no choice. I cannot imagine what this little girl is going to do when she turns 30, let alone 40. She definitely needs a psychological intervention. By the way, I saw on t.v. the other night a procedure where you can now make the whites of your eyes SUPER white ... WTF! They inject your eyeballs with some solution and voila! Super white eyeballs. And everyone knows how important it is to have super white eyeballs.

Here's a pic of another obsessed chick ... I originally saw her on Oprah. She stated that she has to constantly have Q-tips on her or she can't breathe cause she's had so many nose jobs! She has to put Vaseline on the Q-tip and then stick them in her nose.

OK ... on to other hot topics .... everyone is still looking for Tiger. Let me tell you folks, this narcissistic, arrogant little man is not going to turn up until he wants to. Rumor has it he is in a sex addiction residence ... somewhere ... whatever. I hope his weiner falls off.

Here's another newsflash: John Edwards now admits fathering a child with the woman he had an affair with.

and now a picture of the innocent victims of this act of betrayal:


Here's a novel idea. Since there isn't a living politician on earth who has any morality or ethics, why don't we just start electing hoodrats to the government? Clean 'em up, put them in $1,000 suits and you wouldn't know the difference, except YOU'D KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GETTING. A HOOD RAT IN 'SPENSIVE SUIT.

I cannot tell you how sad this makes me. This poor woman, Elizabeth Edwards, fighting cancer no less, and her children, plus the illegitimate child he made with the 40 plus year old bimbo all have to live with the fact that this asshole is their father. It just angers me so much. HE WAS MARRIED TO ELIZABETH FOR OVER 30 YEARS! MY GOD. Doesn't that mean anything to you! You both grieved the death of a child! I JUST DON'T GET IT. Let's just say I'd hate to be John when this amazing woman passes. Who'd wanna live with that shit on their conscious. Jerk.

And last, but not least ... Octomom ...

... I have no words.

and that's all I have to say about that.

The Golden Globes

Taylor Lautner. I think this is the weirdest looking kid I've ever seen. He really does look like a werewolf.

Penelope Cruz. Beautiful. Loved the dress, loved the hair, everything. Beautiful.

Uh, Monique ... (look hard people) she forgot to shave her legs!!!!

Mariah Carey and her golden globes ... why doesn't she just go topless? And her husband/assistant, Nick Cannon.

Vera Farmiga. This is Danny's fantasy girlfriend. I had to post her picture. She's ugly huh.

Kate Hudson. Not everyone can wear white, however, this looks fabulous on her. But it looks like she borrowed her shoes from Minnie Mouse.

Can I just say that ... the knockers on this chick ... humongo.

Dress - ugly

color - ugly

hair - ugly.

Overall Rating - UGLY.

Jennifer Aniston. ALWAYS does it right and knows that less, definitly is more.

I don't like Julia Roberts. She thinks she's the Queen of Hollywood. To me she looks like a horse. Don't like the dress, don't like the necklace, don't like the hair. Go home Julia.

And P.S. NEVER wear a short dress to the Golden Globes.

Halle Berry ALWAYS beautiful. Disgusting.

Love Drew. Hate the dress. It looks like she has a sea urchin on her shoulder and a barnacle on her hip.

Director, James Cameron and wife Suzy Amis.

Major glamour don't. This look is wrong on so many levels.

1. She is much too white to wear white. P.S. Have you ever heard of Mystic Tan ... Sheesh! Casper!

2. She has no boobs for a halter.

3. Hair is terrible. It's like she just threw it in a ponytail and the rain frizzed it out.

Cameron Diaz. Beautiful girl, great body but I don't think I like this dress. I don't like the shoes with this dress ... they look to clunky for red satin. I think if she had left her hair loose with some curls, 1930's style it would have made all the difference ...

Christina Aguilera. Beautiful.

Cher aka Elvira, Mistress of the Dark

And that's all I have to say about that.

Something NICE ... for a change ...

I know that most of the time I blog about my husband I make him sound like a male chauvinist pig, but truthfully, he is the best person I know. So I thought that I would remedy this and do a post about him and all his wonderful qualities, of which he has many, and why, despite the fact that I call myself a wife/slave, I really am truly lucky to be married to him.

1. He's a NICE GUY. He is a truly authentic human being who can be himself with kings and common men alike.



2. He's funny. Believe me, this is KEY in a man. LADIES ... if a man can't make you laugh, dump him. If you're planning on marrying someone you gotta make sure he can make you laugh ... cause you're gonna spend a lot of time with him.



3. He's kind. I don't think you'd find a better friend than my husband. He'd give you the shirt off his back. When we got a new T.V. he gave our old one (which really wasn't old at all) to a friend of his who had a little 13 inch at home. His kids LOVED it.



4. He's HANDSOME ... he has the body of a 25 year old guy which is really nice for me, however, I'm a big fat pig so it's not so nice for him ... but he still loves me ... which brings us to no. 5 ...


5. He's loyal and true in all areas of his life but mostly in continuing to live with me and love me in spite of the fact that I can be an annoying, psychotic bitch.


6. The best father ever. Period.


7. He's adventurous. This alone, changed my life. He opened up my life to so many things I would never have experienced were it not for him.


8. Says he loves me ALL the time and always, ALWAYS, tells me I look beautiful when I'm dressed up ... and even when I'm not.


9. Children love him ... and critters too. I cannot emphasize the importance of this quality.


10. And last, but not least ... HE'S MINE ALL MINE!!!!!
    XXXOOO, love you honey!
    

Feminism is not a NO NO

I saw Marlo Thomas on The View the other day and she's been married to Phil Donahue for 30 years. Amazing. Marlo was, and continues to be a feminist and she said something on The View about marriage that I agree with. Marriage is a better proposition for the man than the woman. If you'd told me I'd agree with this opinion 30 years ago when all I wanted to do was get MARRRRRRRIED, I would never have believed you.  But it's true.


I have had the unique opportunity to have been a single, independent lady for most of my adult life. Then I got married ... when I was nearly 40. Both lifestyles have their pros and cons. Being single, no one tells you WTF to do and you don't have to serve or pick up after anyone. I LOOOOOOOOOOVED that. But, there is some loneliness and you do pay a price for being independent.


Despite what most men say about wanting an independent woman, they're basically a bunch of liars.  What most of them want is a woman who will treat them just like their mother but look like Pamela Anderson.

When I was single I cannot tell you how many guys asked me how come I never made them dinner.  The truth:  I didn't know how to cook ... because I was too busy EARNING A LIVING AND HAVING A LIFE. And they punished me for this ... how did they punish me?  They didn't take me seriously as possible "wife material."

It never entered the minds of half these nitwits that while I was living in a home that I PURCHASED ALL BY MYSELF half of them were still living AT HOME WITH MOMMIE.  Hispanic men are famous for this.  None of them EVER leave home.  That is not until they find a virginal Pamela Anderson who can make tortillas from scratch. 

 

When I was growing up in the 1960's the women did everything which was typical for that time. I always thought it was SO unfair. How come the ladies had to do all the work?  Every holiday for instance, the moms did all the cooking, all the serving (the men first of course) and all the cleaning.  Even at eight years old I knew that was bullshit.  I decided right then and there that I didn't want to be a wife. I was gonna grow up and have my own apartment! 


Well, all that ended once I entered puberty and realized that in the world of females in the 1970's, the be all, end all of existence was to be someone's wife or girlfriend.  That is what validated you as female.  A male. 

If you add to that I grew up in a Hispanic household, this message was all the more powerful. I worried about crap that I NEVER should have worried about. I had nothing but male cousins and they made it crystal clear to me ... there were GOOD girls and BAD girls and you DON'T WANT TO BE A BAD GIRL. And I would think to myself ... but ...you guys LIKE the bad girls ... I'm so confused.  I also had the unique opportunity to witness up close and personal how these guys treated their girlfriends.  They cheated on them, they lied to them and basically treated them like disposable underwear.  What a conundrum!


And though I understood the reasoning for their labels was really for my protection, it did not at all mesh with my thoughts. Oddly enough, my mother did not raise me to cook and clean, but she complained all the time that I didn't cook and clean.  My brother and cousins would tease me mercilessly because I didn't know how to cook.  "What are you gonna cook for your husband when you get married Debbie? JAM SANDWICHES?  It made me feel very bad about myself.  I was obviously born without the wife/slave gene.  


I would worry all the time about what was gonna happen to me... I DIDN'T know how to cook ... I HATED housework!  I was doomed!  I was going to end up all alone, a cat lady.  In  1975 when I graduated from high school HALF MY CLASS GOT MARRIED THAT SUMMER! The thought of being one of those women who ended up ALONE well ... this was a fate worse than death. (See, this is the brainwashing b.s. they sold us back then).


What I needed back then was a little crystal ball so I could see into the future what married life was REALLY like  ...

In my vast experience on both sides of this argument, I think the ideal situation would be for all women who want to share their life with someone and want to have someone to go to the movies with and sit on the porch and grow old with is to buy two houses right next door to each other. You live in one house and the husband can live in the other. He can live like a pig, snore like a freight train and do his own laundry while your house stays nice and tidy and you will always get a good night's sleep.   


I'm not anti-marriage, or anti-male.  I'm ANTI-COOKING AND CLEANING just because I have the va-jay-jay.


When I was single I envied my married friends with children and could never understand why they always said that being at work was rest to them.  Then I got married. I never had kids, but I cannot imagine doing it all with a couple of rug rats running around. I think women who have given birth, raised children, maintained a home, taken care of a husband and worked a full time job are GODDESSES (and in truth they haven't invented a word BIG enough to encompass all that these women do) and are going STRAIGHT TO HEAVEN, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. It is a tough, tough job and trust me, you cannot thank your wife or mother ENOUGH for all the shit she has done for you. PERIOD ... END OF STORY ... don't even try to argue.

My only hope is that all the young girls who will come after me will appreciate all the struggles that the women who came before them made.  And I only have one piece of advice ... if you EVER get married, trust me, YOU CANNOT DO IT ALL and YOU CANNOT


HAVE IT ALL. Make SURE you marry a man who is not only evolved, BUT most importantly, will hire you a MAID. Trust me on this ... you'll thank me one day.

NO BUNNY ... I LOVE HER ...

Debbie ... Debbie, why ... oh why do you torment me?

A quickie on the Housewives

OKAY. Last night we saw Tamra at lunch with her mother confessing that she and Simon are headed toward divorce and she doesn't know what to do. Truthfully, I kinda felt for her because she's still got three little kids at home ... and who wants to be a 42 year old divorcee with three younguns. OUCH. Simon, at least by what we see on t.v., is controlling and possessive but that is what these ladies signed up for. Someone to "take care of them" so they could stay at home, have babies and be swathed in diamonds, designer clothes and nice homes. Having had the unique ability to have been a single independent woman most of my adult life, and then being unemployed for the last two years has given me a unique perspective on this subject. When I was working full time I, too, had fantasies of marrying UP so I wouldn't have to trudge to work every day, take b.s. from superiors and be a responsible person. As you all know, the last two years I have been unemployed, kinda like Tamra ... except without the diamonds and designer clothes and let me say right here and now, it is no fun being a stay at home anything! It's hard, boring work and a thankless job! I cannot imagine doing this wife stuff with a couple of rug rats running around. I'D SHOOT MYSELF IN THE BRAIN. Despite Dr. Laura's psychotic ideology that women should stay home, raising babies, and catering to their men ... IT IS NOT 1950 JEEZ! We live in a different world. Simon should let Tamra work if she wants to and HE should help HER with the kids. PERIOD. After all, he gave up his job selling luxury cars to go into the tequila business. He's home. LET HIM take care of the kids. IT'S CALLED TEAMWORK people. There are pros and cons to everything ... especially for women. When Tamra married Simon he was doing really well financially and she was HAPPY. Everybody's happy where there's money. As soon as biz started slowing down and the money stopped flowing, Simon decides to quit his job selling luxury cars to start a tequila business ... and she supported this cockamamie idea and this is where all the problems began ... with $$$. When you base your happiness on $$$ or the lack thereof, you get kinda what you deserve.

But let's face it folks ... in the world of reality t.v., I don't think there is that much to worry about. After all, Tamra is a reality t.v. star. She'll probably get another reality show about being a divorced 42 year old woman with three little kids, making $100,000 an episode, wherein we will watch her maneuver through life as a single woman, dating loser after loser until she finally marries husband no. 3, Slade Smiley ... and we'll all watch the fabulous wedding on t.v. and the ensuing birth of their triplets by invitro fertilization .... and I'll still be pontificating my views on my stupid little blog and collecting unemployment.

THAT'S REALITY PEOPLE.

Why is Kate Gosselin's Hair news?

I find it amazing how people get so much more attractive once they become t.v. stars. It's like they get shined and buffed and they literally glow with the sheen of fresh scrubbed beauty. Here we have Kate Gosselin with her new hair extensions (which are a couple thousand dollars a pop and she's constantly crying about not having any money) ... I just HAD to post some before and after pictures, if only to prove that regular people can look like movies stars too, if you F up your life enough ... someone is bound to come along and make you offers you can't refuse.

NOW, with the hair extensions she kinda looks like Sharon Stone huh. Let's take a trip down memory lane shall we ... it's almost hard to believe that this is the same person isn't it. I MEAN look at her! Dark mousy brown hair, you know she's had some work but can't put your finger on it ... a chin implant perhaps? Veneers on the teeth? And it's common knowledge that she had a free tummy tuck and those boobs of hers have been lifted. Oh, and we cannot forget the ever present tan, the glow of health and well being. And here she is - posing for pictures with her new look, longer flowing hair. HEY - where are her kids? Are they getting makeovers too? I wonder what will happen to Kate. Will she start dating a movie star? Someone like George Clooney perhaps? The man who has sworn off marriage and kids, but only to meet her he will find she's all he's been looking for. IT COULD HAPPEN. Anything could happen at this point. Look at Brad and Angelina. Their entire relationship is based on having and/or adopting kids ... which if you ask me, is beyond bizarro, but then I'M NOT A BUFFED and Shiny MOVIE STAR. I'm just a regular person, who, if I HOOKED up with the right people, could help me to look like a movie star too! But first I'd have to:

A. Adopt a couple of kids or have them by invitro fertilization (five or more at a time);

B. Make a sex tape with Ray J or with Tia Tequila;

C. Get arrested for shoplifting/selling drugs/or setting my girlfriend's hair on fire;

D. Have ANY kind of reality show where you let cameras into your home to observe every aspect of your life and personality so America can then pick sides and decide to either root for you or to wish you dead. Anyone of these basically insures success. You will make more money than you ever dreamed of and you will make that shift from reality personality to real personality .... get it. Somehow, someway, you will become legit.

And just an aside, did anyone happen to see the Guido's from The Jersey Shore on Jay Leno the other night? (Just for your info, Jersey Shore is yet another reality show which takes place on THE JERSEY SHORE with a bunch of Italian kids, or Guidos, as they like to call themselves) Jay did a parody of Jeopardy and three of the cast members were "contestants". Now, I never went to college and I'm hardly a scholar, but DAYUM!!!!!! These kids are UNBELIEVABLY STUPID!!!

Jay asks the question: When was the Declaration of Independence signed?

Guido: Ummmmmm, (then he recites this in order to help him remember that the Declaration of Independence was signed on JULY 4, 1776) .... in 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue ...?

AWWWW. NO. YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

P.S. This is "Snookie" from the Jersey Shore. I just had to put her picture on this post because HER LOOK is CLASSIC 1970's chola. GET YOUR OWN LOOK YOU STUPID GUIDOS! THIS ONE BELONGS TO US!!!! ORALE!

Okay. I'm done.