Top that!

It’s days like these that unabashedly souligner my censored reasoning and my true hyperbolic nature. I possess the awkwardness of a pimply, “Teen Witch” loving twelve-year-old. For those who are unfamiliar with the masterpiece “Teen Witch,” I say this: you have not LIVED! ! I implore every man, woman and child to watch this visually stunning cinematic classic. Yes, wipe away the white crusty residue on that Proactive bottle because it will get wild.

Behold! Perrrrfection!!

Zachary Quinto is the owner of some magnificently prominent eyebrows. Those beautifully arched caterpillars are fantastically full. Worship them!

New York City, where dreams go to get roughed up a little bit

Imma keep this short since I’ve got some bizzzzness to take care of.

I knew New York and myself were an amiable match when walking along 6th Ave I heard an enthusiastic street performer singing an oddly upbeat rendition of Lionel Richie’s “Hello” with the help of a portable karaoke machine. Such fortune befell me to pass by just in time to feel the profundity radiating from this gifted, and possibly homeless, man. As he sang, “But let me start by saying… I love youuuu” and extended his arms to the only passerby (me.), I could feel the unhygienic love coming my way. SWOOOOONNNNN!

Scholastic inquiries

As I watch the steady rain wash away the dead heat of a summer’s day and baste the green life until permeated with a vibrant gloss, I begin to contemplate one of life’s more convoluted questions that only the cleansing rainfall can induce me to answer...

Why is it that the majority of cute kids—and I use the word “cute” hesitantly because let’s face it, a blob is a blob—seem to grow up fugly? Is it because they use up all their good looks early so the only natural progression is toward the disagreeable aesthetic? Interestingly enough, the other kids who are shunned by onlookers and questioned if it be a boy or girl tend to grow into their looks, and thus improve over time. THAT IS SOME BENJAMIN BUTTON SHIZ!

Now some of you may be shocked and horrified, but maybe some proof will put your outrage at ease:

To begin, here is George Clooney, then and now, as an extreme example of someone growing into their looks.












Almost unrecognizable!! Javier Bardem's No Country for Old Men character would be jealous of that coiffure. Based off of that hot mess to tha left, Mr. Clooney has come a long 'n triumphant way.

On to the next! Who else has fought the good fight and came out victorious? Drew Barrymore, for one.














It's a miracle!! Those brows once looked hopeless paired with that feathered 80s hair. But no more! Though Drew has experimented with an infinite number of hair colors and styles in the past, she has most certainly locked down a look that works for her now. Rejoice!

Andrew Lawrence is another champ that overcame the same adversities Drew Barrymore and George Clooney faced. You may recognize him from the Disney show Brotherly Love, though no one would blame you if you don't. You see, Andrew was unfortunate enough to have 2 attractive brothers while he was just a doughy kid with floppy hair. But behold the transformation!











Dayummm! And we all know what Joey Lawrence looks like now... I'm just saying...

But wait! They can't all be as fortunate as the examples above. It's a cruel world to some. My primary, and best, example is that little boy from the Jerry Maguire movie. Poor kid, he was at the top of his game at the age of 6. And now, look at him!!
















I know there are exceptions to this rule, or perhaps these are the exceptions, but you cannot deny it!!! I'm simply making observations (with irrefutable proof). Accept it, fools!!

It's jealousy but don't tell anyone!

Today power-hungry (or is it just hungry?) Oprah pityingly revealed another one of her secrets of the world that she hides in her inflated hair, which is filled with secrets. Filled! I would tell you, but I’m trying to collect my own secrets to form a kind of repertoire, if you will, so I too can benefit from the wonders of voluminous hair. By the end of summer, I hope to have the most grandiose hair and credit it, not to the vengeful humidity, but to my proliferated secrets. Pinky will ask me what we're doing tonight, to which I will respond: the same thing we do every night, Pinky, try and take over the world!!! With Oprah’s hair, there’d be no stopping me!

Sinnerman

My night consisted of watching a melodramatic Lifetime movie (…I know…) instead of cracking the surface of a 20-page French paper, an assignment signifying all that is wrong with the French (another story for another time). Needless to say, I learned two very important things from the gripping tale “Live Once, Die Twice.” First: you can die more than once; and second: men are not to be trusted!!! Especially men who fake their own deaths so they can embezzle platinum bars and escape from their Long Island and Detroit wives. Naturally as the story goes, the two wives bond over their murderous husband’s web of lies and form a lasting friendship. Moral of this story:

All men are murderers. OBVIOUSLY.

We have to stick together, ladies! Even if the other was secretly married to your husband. Sisterhood of the traveling pants that drama shiz back where it belongs, OK! Repress those betchy feelings deep down and only allow them to cat-fight their way out when making backhanded compliments and gossiping behind the other’s back. Ah, true friendship! It stands the test of time… Or something.

Facebook official

I mistook a chocolate chip for a bug, which made my reaction to the charlatan all the more nonsensical. My foolery must have been because I declined a message from God on Facebook earlier today. I knew the moment I clicked decline that I would soon face the wrath of God, for no one, deities included, possesses immunity to the pangs—pangs, I say!—of Facebook rejection. And by golly, no, by God (!) I knew the fury would come down mercilessly upon me.

And so it did.