20 Years of Snow

That's a Regina Spektor song, and technically there's no snow in sight, so technically I'm an exaggerating crybaby, but technically, I haven't felt my hands in 3 days. As many of my near and dears know, when the temperature drops below 70, I start to panic because all life seems to drain from my body. My extremities turn blue and I walk around with the mighty hunch of Julia Child (rest in peace, culinary giant), trying desperately to retain any kind of heat. And don't think I won't bring up the time I got frost bite. In San Francisco. It's true! No one seems to believe that my body could hate me so much, but I swear I was rushed to the emergency room following my highly anticipated ballet debut at the Russian Community Center. I could've been a star had it not been for that untimely circulatory malfunction. And the fact that I couldn't Chassé-turn worth shit. But I'll continue to type with numb fingers, because that's the sacrifice I'm willing to make for my writing. That, and I've already read all of today's gossip and obsessively refreshed Craigslist 82 times.

In other news, last night's Real World ranked quite high on the Jerry Springer meter. The first 2 minutes were the most horrifying, and really drove home the level of sick and twistedness that girls can achieve when they put their minds to it. After pushing Parissa's ass over like an inflatable clown punching bag, Trisha calmly proclaims to her dad on the phone, "I just pushed a fat girl, Dad!" She then screams something to the effect of "Hey, go work out - you've got a long way to go!" To which Parissa, ever the classy lady, responds, "What about your FAT ass and that disgusting gut you've grown since you've gotten here?! Why don't you keep eating, Ms. Piggy? Keep going." So just for those remaining few out there who don't understand why on Earth girls get complexes about their bodies and learn to value themselves according to the waist size of their Seven jeans, there you go. Nothing is more heart-wrenchingly painful, permanently damaging, and sickeningly effective than a girl criticizing your body. While I live for the trashy antics of reality show participants, sometimes they can be a little too real, and that shit last night made me extremely depressed for the state of girl solidarity. If you wanna hate on Trisha for insulting your mother, go for it. If Parissa annoyed the hell out of you for staying on the phone for 3 hours, go ahead and go psycho on her ass. But ripping out another woman's heart by calling her (non-existent) gut "disgusting," or making sure she feels like a lazy, worthless slob by telling her to "go work out" is truly the lowest of the low blows. So to counter this pathetic display of cattiness, here's something awesome I caught on the news the other day: http://www.ittakesagirl.com/ Schools are starting their own "Club Ophelias" to teach girls how to relate to each other and to be allies, not bullies. Hooray for the non-Mean Girls of the world!

And on another happy note, this parody of The Hills, produced by Judd Apatow and starring James Franco and Mila Kunis is rad: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/56c2d6a703. Thank you to the always fabulous, never a mean girl, Whitney, for alerting me to that treasure.