Unique New York

Just like a regular woman, only crankier.

Friday, October 20, 2006

Tyra and her sycophants

Who told Tyra Banks that she could be something besides pretty? I'm betting it was her mama. And maybe Oprah.

I am so sick to death of seeing this girl's face everywhere. Not having cable, this means that CW11 bears her image for 90% of the time that I am home to watch TV. And not in hot Victoria's Secret ads anymore, no. No she gave that up for her sparkling personality. Yes, it was her sparkling personality and brilliant insight that made her fall in love with us in the first place, no?

So, America's Next Top Model. WTF? First off, the "Top Models" are more like America's Next Top Interns. What exactly do these girls get? Do we ever see them outside of the context of ads during America's Next Top Model? I admit to watching the show. It's like a pageant show all slowed-down, but with just as much hairsprayed ass-cheeks and eating disorders. Oh, and Tyra talks through the whole thing. She swoops in, from time to time, to pretend to be the girls' therapist. She gets them on a couch and they all cry because she asks them about their insecurity. Well, what the hell else are they going to do? First off, they're starving. Second, they're exhausted. Third, their "therapist" is Tyra Banks, who also happens to be their boss. Who wouldn't cry?

Lest any of the girls walk around with confidence, Tyra launches an arsenal of people to thwart their development at every curve. These people are important in the sense that they have become famous since Top Model. However, it is rare that Tyra bring on anyone else with any shred of credibility. Guess the other Supermodels don't really want work on CW11. Shocker. So, Tyra has these same tired folks come in and harass the skinny herds for an episode. And then they say their opinion about the girls at the end. Who cares. Who are these people? At least with Donald Trump, you're like, okay, it's Donald Trump. I know who Twiggy is, but seriously, who is the Janice lady? Besides drunk all the time?

And, when the girls mouth off, Tyra says something illuminating like, "I know everything there is to know about the modeling business." Wow. So, the message the participants should take home is as long as we keep kissing Tyra's ever-loving ass, the show will still go on.

Tyra, we get it. You made it as a model. You're Dr. Phil. Now, you're even Oprah. Brilliant. Can you go back to not talking while the photos are being taken? Please? Maybe free up the CW for reruns of Judge Judy or something?

Thursday, October 19, 2006

My own, private, fresh hell

In an attempt to complicate my life, I decided to vomit all night long the night before a mid-term. So, because I was held up by abdominal pain, I could not attend class. I e-mailed the professor that night at 4am when I realized I could not heave myself up out of the toilet for long to let her know that I would be absent. I plopped myself back into bed (I repeated this action several times) and then finally fell asleep around 8am. I slept until 5ish, and then got up to walk the dogs, check e-mail and the like. I rechecked the syllabus that had my prof's e-mail address on it, and it says, on page three (a page I didn't read) that "Make-up tests will only be issued if the student present's a doctor's note explaining his or her absence."


Lemme 'splain something. When your gut contracts every five minutes, it's kind of difficult to sit for too long. Also, what would a doctor tell me? "Yeah, it appears that you are in fact evacuating your bowels. That should clear up soon-ish."

So, I did what any good girl does. I tried to call a doctor to make an appointment to get a note, and when that didn't work, I called my mommy. My mommy called my daddy who left a message with my professor verifying that I had in fact been sick all night, couldn't get a doctor's appointment, and to call him at his office if she needs anything else. My very understanding professor made an exception for me since she was out of town, and is allowing me to take a make-up. Oy.

I wasn't 100% today, but I still went to school because I didn't want to miss any more classes. During my break, I went to go apply for a new social security card because my name has changed again since the wedding.

Okay, so I have eaten toast and apple juice in the last 24 hours, I am dizzy and still a little woozy, oh, AND I am PMS-ing. I wait for an hour while two people behind me talk loudly about Cable Modem versus DSL. Then, their conversation shifts to which ringtones this guy should have. Seriously. So, he goes through all the ringtones to ask his neighbor which she likes best. These were two people in their late thirties. Awesome. Then, a pre-teen girl gets on the annoying phone bandwagon and starts playing an MP3 file on speakerphone.

I was almost ready to leave when they call my number. The woman at the front takes one look at my application and says, well, normally you can go to any office, but since you live in Brooklyn, you HAVE to go to this office on Fulton.

On the days I am in Brooklyn, I work 9-5. The only times I have available to run errands during the day are Wednesday and Thursday when I am in Long Island. What does this mean? Well, in order to get my application processed, I have to go to the SSA office at 7:30 in the morning and hope that they get to my number before 8:30 so I have enough time to get back to work. I love the government so much.

I only hope this next office allows boomboxes.