Last Tuesday while I was home sick , I happened to catch a Real Housewives of Atlanta marathon. At the beginning of this season, my impression of the women were that the French phrase “nouveau riche” couldn’t even begin to describe the tacky, brittle, fell-ass-backwards-into-money parasitic personalities of these women. Just in case you’re not familiar with the cast, here’s the rundown:
NeNe – (pronounced knee-knee, not nay-nay for all you haters), reminds you of the disgusting chick from high school that managed to master her bj skills instead of her reading skills & married some old guy that looks like he’s knocking on death’s door & has money. She’s loud & obnoxious & I think that even her kids hate her.
Kim – reminds you of the trashy chick that you went to high school with whom didn’t discriminate. Every time she’s in the studio with producer Dallas Austin, I keep wondering if she’s going to cheat on her boyfriend, Big Papa, with Dallas. And, she’s only 30! Her wig is totally believable.
DeShawn – the wife of NBA player Eric Snow. Definitely fell ass backwards into money by being his high school sweetheart or something. Says things like “elite society” constantly, which just demonstrates just how low class she really is. Really needs to take a long, hard look at herself & then Kobe Bryant’s wife & see what she can do about developing an eating disorder ASAP.
Lisa – seems nice; however, word on the blogs is that she plays innocent & is just as conniving & catty. Needs to style her hair. Ex-wife of Keith Sweat.
Sheree- looks like a well-toned, cold, mean tranny. Grew up upper class & now is just “class”. She’s trying to design her own two-bit fashion line, was married to some football player who’s a back-up for the back-up.
Anyway, my distaste for these women has grown into somewhat liking these women. Or, at least somewhat liking one character, in particular, NeNe. Now granted, please don’t take this admission along the lines of I would want her to be my new BFF. Hardly. Instead, the rationale is more along the lines of, “If I had to kill all of these women, I would save NeNe for last”. Now, this sudden like/ newfound sympathy probably came about during my sickness & marathon viewing of the show. Maybe Bravo knows that after repeat exposure, you’re bound to start liking anything. Maybe since I was holed up in the bedroom of my house like some captive, I started to develop that syndrome where you begin to sympathize with your abductor, you know, Stockholm Syndrome. I’m sure that this sudden realization came about due to my teetering on the brink of starvation, insanity & gut-wrenching illness. Regardless, what I’ve just admitted to is very shameful. Now, I’m going to take this no-longer-a secret shame, my Justin Guarini CD & my love of Britney Spears’
Gimme More song go hide under a rock for the rest of my days.
But meningitis always gets to me. Not to say that I always get it, but the fear of the quick killer often worries me. Anytime that I have cold symptoms and neck pain at the same time, I start freaking out. Yes, I realize that the neck soreness sometimes comes along with colds, but knowing this doesn't ease my anxiety. I mean, the big M can claim a victim in just 24 hours.
So, fall is here, I can no longer deny it. I even did the closet switcheroo. I have 4 bags of items to bring to consignment shops and the Salvation Army, but the one thing I cannot do is get rid of old jeans.
I thought this image was appropriate. Happy birthday to a certain So Unpretty reader/editor!
Every time I write inside a card for someone, my heart starts racing. Beads of perspiration form on my brow. The palms of my hands become clammy. In order to avoid error under this kind of pressure, I always write out my messages beforehand. But last night I still messed up one word inside a just-bought Hallmark original. Bought a second card today. Hopefully it goes better this time.
After a three-hour ride home from the shore today, I decided to reward myself with some delicious culinary delights from Phoebe's Bar-B-Q on South Street. This time I'm going for a sides-only order. The ribs I had last time were great, but it was a huge meal. So, I'm goin for mashed, mac, and veg. My mouth is watering. I wrote this post to kill time. Gotta go pick it up.
Marie Claire included a "Sexy 101" list in its August issue, and I found one of the items particularly disturbing.
Last night I saw The Dark Knight at the Roxy on Sansom Street. I enjoyed the film, but I did not enjoy the crying infant in the row next to me. As soon as I saw the mom/dad/baby entered, I knew the outcome would not be good. Of course he/she kept crying, the inconsiderate parents would keep getting up to go to the lobby, and then they would come back in only to repeat the process. Eventually, they gave up and left the movie, and there was a sigh of relief from the crowd.
