Lateshoes

I haven’t shaved my legs in like 5 days and while oddly liberating (well, it liberates about 5 minutes of my “getting ready” time in the morning) it has this way of making me feel like my shower didn’t take or something. Like the hair on my legs captures the body filth and lovingly migrates the filth upward…all the way to my head, giving way to the awesome feeling of having dipped my entire noggin in a vat of tepid bacon grease. Am I the only one who experiences this feeling, I wonder?

Nevermind.

Last night’s episode of America’s Next Top Model made me realize something very important about “Miss” Tyra Banks: That bitch, is crazy. I’ve known it all along really, I mean no one can be that unaware of her own self-obsession and not be just a little insane. But, last she did something that really illustrated just how bizarre she truly is. During panel she told one of the girls that she was really giving a lot to the camera or some bullshit, but she made it sound like a good thing so the girl was all, “awww, Thanks Tyra.” Then during judging, in reference to that same girl she said, “I dunno, I think she’s trying too hard. Like there’s a difference between dedication and desperation.” Yes, Ty-Ty and if anyone would know anything about desperation, it would be you, sweet heart. But, no really, what the hell?
You made a girl think you were complimenting her and then talked shit when she wasn’t there…so, what if she amps up even more next week thinking that’s what you want from her?
Ugh. I have other problems with you and the show….
Eugena, for instance. Maybe she’s really pretty in person, but on the show she looks completely wrecked and by the judging panel’s own admission, she’s only taken ONE good picture…and yet, you won’t cut this ugly bitch. Someone please explain.

Forgive me while I squee at Linkio DeStinkio kicking the shit out of Matt Damon for a second.
Not that I hate Matt Damon and/or particularly love Linkio…but, because I saw The Departed over the weekend and if Matt Damon’s character didn’t get his fanny whooped but good…there would have been a riot in the theatre.
I never knew I could care about Linkio so much. Not even when his tiny, frozen corpes sunk to the bottom of the ocean in Titanic…no, not even then.

I don’t know how to start this and realize I may regret even writing about this, not that I’ve ever been too shy about posting personal information about myself, but some things, I’ve kept relatively off limits. I know what you’re thinking… “what the fuck hasn’t this bitch yacked about on this site?” …but, trust me, there are things.

About 4 years ago I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). I say diagnosed, but basically my 85 lb. slip-of-a-doctor looked at me sideways and said, “Well, we can just put you on birth control and that should…um…er… regulate your periods.” Of course I was too embarrassed, too flummoxed to think to ask her any questions, so I just sat there, nodding at her, holding the gynocologist-designer smock over my nay-nays. “Um, okay.”

It had been three years since I’d had a regular period. My cycle was this: no period for three months…MONTH LONG PERIOD…..no period for three months…..MONTH LONG PERIOD…and so on. I never worried about it, it just meant less periods for me…it meant more making-out time and less buying of tampons and sanitary napkins. Less of my money going to the man. I never thought about it relating to anything or ya know… acting as a sign that my body was a rebellious jerk who like hates me, wants me to be cranky, fat, infertile and have a mustache.

But anyway, according to Doctorexia…birth control would be the answer to all my problems. So, I took it and despite gaining more weight, she was right. My moods regulated as did the old menstrual cycle (ewwww) and the mustache…well, it went away too. Birth control was like prozac for me, literally. For most of my teenage/adult life I had suffered from almost uncontrollable, shaking-with-rage fits of depression and now I knew why; I was broken… see, all of that obsessive, irrational behavior?… that wasn’t my fault… it was my hormones…all that stuff was their fault. Awesome. Thanks hormones.

Over the years I’ve depended on “my medicines” (Orthocept be thy name) to make everything work. I never really thought about the fact that it wasn’t really “fixing” me…just masking the shit that was wrong, but masking the problem can only be temporary, well, only temporary for a 32 year old woman who may want to try to have a kid.

Which brings me to now. I want a kid, you guys. I want a kid a lot and you have no idea how fucking hard it was for me to write that…to even admit it. But, that means…no more birth control, which means… well, it means a series of uncertainties…. I’ve scheduled an appointment with a different doctor, who I’m hoping will have a clue.

Here goes nothing.

P.S. Blogger’s dictionary doesn’t recognize the word, “tampons,” wtf?

WTF, A? (Text speak translation: What the fuck, ASSHOLES?) Are you kidding me? You cut off the last ten minutes of Veronica Mars…start King of motherfrakking Queens at 8:52, cut-out again, only to come back with the beginning of King of Ass yet again, lest anyone miss a bloody second of that hunk of balls show.
So. Angry. Can’t. Type.
I hate you CW…I would kick you in your sweaty balls if I could.

Someone HAS to post the last ten minutes of tonight’s V. Mars on Youtube and give me a holla…I would be ever so grateful.

My best friend Angie is getting married tomorrow. If you know Angie and how utterly embarrassed she can get by just about anything related to typical human activity…you can only slightly imagine how hilarious and heartwarming it’s been watching her plan a wedding.
She hates conformity…..hates fancy….hates make-up….hates all things girlie, so watching her navigate the ultimate girlie event has been almost as entertaining as good t.v.
What’s insane is that despite her hatred and embarrassment at joining the rest of us mere mortals in the ritual of marriage…she’s planned a pretty damn pretty one…and she did it all out of spiral notebook.
My own notebook last year was pink with pockets and subject dividers. I was a wedding resister also…but, clearly had less of a problem mind-melding with the wedding borg than Ang.
She’s going to be a beautiful bride despite her protestations and the “arm zit” she acquired this morning.
I can’t wait to see her marry the boy she loves tomorrow.

A whole week without blogging makes Tracy a dull girl. Especially since her good friend Jimi sent her a great blogging inspiration book for her birthday. Last week I decided that I was actually going to work at work and write my 4 stories per week totally at home while balancing awesome new seasons of my favorite t.v. shows. It made blogging almost impossible, but like I said a few weeks ago….I’ll try harder.

The good news? Veronica Mars season 3 aired on the “new CW” network last Tuesday and was, much to my relief…frakking awesome. Not to mix metaphors or t.v. shows, but V. Mars made hilarious reference to my other fave, Battlestar Galactica by using the word, “frak” repeatedly.
I had my doubts about Veronica’s shift to college life and the new cast members… look forward to Richard Greiko later in the season…but, if the first ep. of the season was any indication… I’m completely on board. Frakking-A.

The same cannot be said for Gilmore Girls, which is under new management from David Rosenthal. I can’t really say that he’s doing a bad job. Both the first and second eps. of the season were…okay…but, I’m sorry to say neither ep. made me laugh…at all. The writing is definitely slower than the A.S.P. stuff and the pop-culture referencing has fallen a few echelons…I mean, they’re still making them, but they aren’t quite as fun and obscure, thereby taking away that wonderful “insider” feeling you get when you know the band, movie, book…whatever they’re talking about. It kind of makes me sad. On the positive side, Rory actually acted like a a real friend to Lane, which she hasn’t done for at least three seasons by my count…and Lorelei’s bitch quotient has also subsided to a low-burn. It’s really phenomenal how they turned such likeable, adorable, wonderful characters and made them such hollow, self-centered and unreal meanies between the 3rd and 6th seasons. I’m not holding my breath, but if Rosenthal can’t make them funny….here’s hoping he can at least make them nice again.

Battlestar Galactia also started this week. As I mentioned I’ve already seen the rough cuts of the first 4 eps., but it was nothing compared to the real thing. There were some surprising changes in the final cut and I know I’ve said it before but it bares repeating…Battlestar Galactica is the best show on television. Get thee indoctrinated forthwith.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVOnnJZI4jI]