Boys & Toys

Witizens:

It is yet another day slaving for the Big Red Machine, some of you call it "work". Tomato/Tomato my friends. As I'm busily trying to look busy, I'm actually Instant Messaging friends and having a good ol' time; it makes the slavery better. I was just typing to my friend Big Mouth and WWF Shoes, about my toys growing up, and the impact they caused. For starters, let me explain first that I'm the youngest of seven children: 3 older brothers and 3 older sisters. Yep, my folks got down. Anyhow, my oldest brother is 16 years older than I am, and the other two are both 12 years older than me (they were born in the same year, different months, same mom... yeah, my folks got DOWN!). The two that were 12 years older, I'll call them the "Irish Twins", were the source of much torturing to me. How so? By instructing my mother which toys were appropriate for a little girl, and by later abusing the dolls she bought for me. I'll explain...

No KEN:

The Irish Twins told my mother that she shouldn't buy me any Ken dolls because "little girls do nasty things with Barbie and Ken". That was enough for her ears; her "baby" could never do such dirty things. (Meanwhile her "baby" is watching Purple Rain and wondering what the hell Prince is doing to that lady Apollonia...and wait, which one is the lady...very traumatic) Anywho, only Barbie dolls for her Darling Niki. This only left me with Barbies, Teddy Bears, Cabbage Patch, Monchichi, and a group of fucking female or animal toys! Since Barbie had no Ken, and she had to get it on with someone (little girls will still make toys hump without male dolls), she became a lipstick lesbian and a cross-breeding slut. Barbie even got it on with a flippin Monchichi! Ewww, that gross Barbie!!! If I were allowed to have a Ken, or still play with the boys' old G. I. Joes like I used to before they took them away too, I would have more respect for Barbie. Instead, I have this low level of respect for her because I know her homoerotic/bestiality secrets.

Graffiti Bridge:

Once the Twins secured that I had no sexually ambiguous male toys to play with, they begin to write on my girl dolls. They wrote: "Whore, Bitch, Slut...." and much more all over my Barbies and dolls. Now some parents would take their teenage boys to a therapist for that, but my mom just gave them a dose of that old school drug: ass-whipping (extra strength). After all, I'd be super upset, and then she'd have to replace these dolls... don't fuck with a momma's baby and her money. Although I didn't know what those graffitied words meant at the time, those dolls had to be thrown out immediately. And still, I remained a loving child. Then they did the ultimate.... They wrote on my Monchichi!!!! I friggin' lost it. My mother fucking lost it!! They got their asses kicked big time for that one, and I just gave up on dolls all together. That hurt the Twins more than my mom's hits... they killed the baby's love for toys and had to wear that shame. They tried to get me new ones, but I just stopped caring. I haven't played with dolls since.

The Outcome:

For those who know me well, that was the birth of my "Dump IT" mentality, and many more characteristics that are apparent to this day. There is no wonder that "Beauty and the Beast" has always been an absolute favorite. The book, the animated film, the play... I even stayed at the "Beauty and the Beast' themed hotel at Disney. With Barbie humping Monchichi, cn you blame me? It's also no mystery as to why I can listen to music with the lyrics like, "Bitches ain't nothin' but hos and tricks" without batting an eye. I mean Barbie's impression wasn't a good start. Perhaps that's why a man's anatomy is sooooo fascinating, even if I have no desire to get busy.... hmmm... It is the upbringing and influences that we received as children that makes us into the adults we are later. So mothers, and mothers-to-be, please don't listen to your sons' advice about what a little girl should play with. After all, you are letting a young man shape what will become a woman later, and young men are really fucking stupid. Well, at least those Irish Twins were.

Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

Adios Ernesto!!

Witizens:

I thought about "Reporting to you LIVE during the hurricane!", but wouldn't you just know it ... I slept through the whole thing. It's still rather windy and rainy at the moment, so I guess I'm sort of reporting LIVE during Ernesto right now. If you were worried about the loving staff that keeps the Witsy engine going... we are all fine. Hurricane Ernesto was not hellacious at all, and thank God, or the "powers that be" for that. I am quite relieved that life can go on without much interruption; I'm even at the office today. Lucky me. And I mean that, truly. Not in my usual smartastic tone; going to work is more welcome than awaking to no electricity. In the end, the hurricane did not do much damage, and we are all very fortunate for that. Which is why those people who seem upset that the "storm was a dud" really confuse the hell out of me. When I ask someone who is complaining, "Did you want more destruction?", they get even pissier. Even if I spend hundreds of dollars in preparation, I don't consider the purchases a waste, and curse the storm for not demolishing everything so that I could use my goods!

I understand it's hard to prepare for each storm to the same degree because it gets quite expensive and the general atmosphere is fear, panic, and frenzy; however, it's just smarter to prepare with the necessities. AND the beauty of said necessities is that they never really get wasted whether the storm is bad or not. Food, water, batteries, preserves... they never get wasted because they are needed regardless of the weather. Let us learn to be thankful that we can afford what we need, and that we didn't have to go through another disastrous storm. Let us also remember everyone is not nearly as fortunate sometimes. This week marks a year since Katrina nearly wiped cities off the map. Perhaps that's why I'm so flippin happy I saw every tree standing on my way to work. Life is good.

"This has been a weather and morality update from Witsy. Not~So~Cosmo, signing out."

Truly,

N~S~C

Hurricane Must Haves

Witizens:

I've lived in the great Sunshine State of Florida alllllll my life {sigh}, and it's about that time for another hurricane to sweep through our state. Our newest nemesis is Ernesto, an ethnic name, but thank goodness it's not as ghetto as Katrina. Come on, with a name like that, we should have known it would wreck shop. Anyhow, or amigo is swooping in fast from the south, and is predicted to impact Witsy headquarters on Wednesday. Pray for us Floridians. In honor of the storm, I'm compiling a list of things I find to be SUPER useful during, and in the aftermath of a hurricane. Of course, the traditional supplies are a necessity (flashlights, batteries, a manual can opener, matches......etc), but my list is more of an addition to these lifesavers; as well, my list of items is to ensure mental happiness more than survival. Without further adieu... the list...

Not~So~Cosmo's Hurricane Survival Guide:

1.) Red Wine
- White wine is good, but Red Wine is better during a storm; it can be kept a few degrees below room temp, so it needs very little, if any, refrigeration

2.) Cigarettes
- If you smoke, buy extra packs

3.) M. J.
- Pick up a substantial amount due to the damage the roads might suffer, and your dealer may get killed in the storm... sad, but true

4.) Papers
- These preserve the use of the lighters/matches

5.) Decent Food
- For some gourmet meal ideas, you can pick up Daphne Nikolopoulos' book "Storm Gourmet" in which she offers many recipes that require no refrigeration

6.) Grill Supplies
- In addition to gourmet, everyday food can be prepared on the grill; buy extra charcoal and lighter fluid

7.) Dry Ice
- It keeps drinks ridiculously cold if you can get your hands on it (not literally, Please!)

8.) Books, playing cards/board games, toys, balls, and imagination- the aforementioned book is a good idea; Monopoly always rocks, as does Spades; old school games (I spy, Mother May I, 4 square) are still hella amusing

9.) Tylenol P.M.
- If you can't fall asleep without the air conditioner

10.) Condoms
- Too many "Hurricane Babies" are conceived with all that free time and boredom

If I've missed anything, I'll add on. And please, feel free to add to the list. It could save someone's life, or their sanity. Please be safe, and don't drive/run out in the storm if you don't have to (I speak from personal experience... I'm retarded). So, despite the coming of Ernesto, I hope all my Witizens remember to party on, and rock this bitch 'til the wheels blow off.


Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

Alas, Paramount....

Witizens:

SOUND THE TRUMPETS!!!!!! The "Powers That Be" have heard the cries of the young and the restless, and gave my nemesis, one Thomas Cruise Mapother IV, the fucking boot. He's FIRED!!!! I really don't have anything special prepared for this moment, so this speech is so off the cuff...

"First, I'd like to thank God for making all things possible. Especially the rise and fall of Tom Cruise. I remember when I first began to notice that he was somewhat psychotic, and during those times, only my very best friends understood. Special thanks goes out to Will Work For Shoes, Lioness of Zion, and last, but certainly not least, Rogue Scholar; my one new love who shares my one true hate. You all rock.

In certain situations, hating Tom really lead to feelings of ostracism. The masses would exclaim, "Why do you hate Tom Cruise?!" and I would wonder, "how can you not?", but I'd just answer, "He's an ass"; that sufficed. Now the world knows it, and his bosses can no longer hide it. I'd like to thank my parents for instilling in me that I can hate and love whomever I damn well please; actually more of my mother's teachings. That's my girl. I'd like to thank everyone for finally seeing a madman for who he is... Thank you mad world. And well, God Bless Paramount!!! Thank you." {Bow}

Okay, I'm sure the speech could use quite a bit of work, but I'm not exactly up for any Oscars anytime soon, and neither is Tom. BURN! LOL!!! I'm having so much fun with this, which is so mean, but it keeps me smiling. I do think this time off could give Mr. Mapother time to stop and smell the roses. Everyone needs family time (there is a newborn something in the house!), a vacation, and some down time with friends. It makes us all so human. Perhaps Paramount has given Tom just what the therapist prescribed, if one believes in such things as therapists... Just get some rest, Mr. Mapother, get some rest.

Truly
Not~So~Cosmo

"O", I've done it now....

Witizens:

I don't know if it's because I have a "Case of the Mondays" (my schedule changed and bye-bye Margarita Mondays... damn the Man), or if I'm just sick of biting my tongue. I know that women around the World would have me burned at the stake for this bombshell, but I'll say it anyway. Fuck Oprah Winfrey! I love and respect her as a business women, I truly do. Kudos, Oprah. But as a cult leader, hell no. If you were unaware that Oprah is a cult leader, it's because you're not paying attention. All those screaming/weeping/adoring women that swear by Oprah, and don't take her name in vain are as fanatical as David Koresh's Waco-Whackos. Has anyone ever seen the "Oprah's Favorite Things" episodes (a giveaway of, well, Oprah's favorite/expensive things)? Those bitches in the audience go NUTS!!!!

Oprah:
"AND NOW IT'S TIIIIIME...FOR OPRAH'S FAAAAVVOOORRIIITTTTTE
THIIIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGGSSS!"
Fans: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I can't get through a whole episode of that shit without screaming "SHUT UP!!" myself. First of all, no one is cool enough to address themselves in the third person. Not~So~Cosmo is so not a fan of that! Second, when it appears as though half of the audience might faint from frantic excitement, don't make them go nuts if it can be helped. And she knows she's the only one to calm them too; it's part of the bewitching. I've seen her execs try to get the Oprates to calm down, and the screaming just became more frantic. She raised her hands, and a hush fell. I've seen that kind of control before [cough Nazi cough], and it's not pretty. I'm just saying, Oprah seems to love that obsession and power, and even encourages more of it. Which leads me to my third point, her screaming sends them into a frenzy, and she keeps screaming and enticing them to scream like their leader; okay, is it apparent yet that she has a God complex?

In addition to her television show, Oprah also has "O" magazine to further brainwash her flock. One page 15, the magazine will read: "Be happy with your weight/body/self", and on page 30 there will be "10 ways to drop 10 pounds over the weekend". WTF? Be happy, or try the anorexic diet? Which? On top of it all, I dont think Oprah is exactly the weight specialist... that's just my "O"pinion. If I disappear, the Oprates (middle aged suburban housewives) have done me in. I don't care! The fear must end. I don't have to like Oprah. Hell the Beef people have beef with her, and they're still around... well, the profits dropped, and they lost large amounts of money trying to sue her, and Oprates banned beef... Jeez, maybe it's not so safe to hate her... I still don't care! Not~So~Cosmo can hate whoever Not~So~Cosmo wants to on this website. That is, until Oprah buys blogspot.com or the entire internet and has me banned. As for now, Ms. Winfrey is on notice!


Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

P.S. I told Harpo to beat you!!!!!

Crap On A Film

Witizens:

I went to see that piece of shit film Snakes on a Plane, and let me just tell you... It's a piece of shit. You can make it more entertaining, like myself, by inviting your best friend (Mary Jane) and light (or heavy) drinking; however, it's still a B movie (and instant cult classic). I think it's safe to say I totally enjoyed hating it. Maybe it was the ricockulousness of it all; or that I started saying, "De Playne, De Playne, Mayne! Snakes on de Plane, Mayne!!!" like that midget from "Fantasy Island"; or Samuel L.'s breakdown (worth seeing the whole film for; a shark doesn't eat him this time); or the drugs... hmmmm.... Whatever, I enjoyed the silliness, and I would recommend it to anyone who didn't have two hours to waste on laughing that they had two hours to waste. Hell, I'm having fun just reliving watching this shit.

Also, I've never seen such sex-driven snake bites before in film. Where these reptiles bite is quite entertaining for a lascivious girl like myself.


Yeah! I said it,

Not~So~Cosmo

C'est la vie

Witizens:

Being as though I'm a self-soother, I may not open up about personal woes to many people personally. I would apologize, but that's just me. I remember going through a bad spell in my latter college years, and I didn't share it with anyone as much as I did John "Diggy" Digweed (my cat); more so, I just talked myself through it first and foremost. I know it's important to lean on others (I too would give this advice), but I find it important to stand on my own at first. Mostly, I just realize it's not the end of the world as we know it... And if so, I feel fine. I can't say that I did it alone; there was outside help. I've mentioned Digweed, and my best friends were the bestest. There was also this one particular poem that I read almost daily in Orlando during my lowest times, and I remember every time I was sitting alone and reading (whether in the living room, my bedroom, or in the potty) that my Diggy would always join me on my lap. It NEVER failed! He's an awesome kitty like that, but it always made me feel like he was the embodiment of hope, like in the poem. Here lately, I've needed some comforting, and I thought about this poem and how I haven't read it in so long. Ironically, Diggy has been extra snuggly with me. It took me forever (a day) to find it, but it's worth it, and Diggy likes it too. Do enjoy...


it has rained for five days
running
the world is
a round puddle
of sunless water
where small islands
are only beginning
to cope
a young boy
in my garden
is bailing out water
from his flower patch
when I ask him why
he tells me
young seeds that have not seen sun
forget
and drown easily

~Audrey Lorde



Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

Pandora's Beach

Witizens:

It's the start of a new week, and already it's off to a brilliant start. My bestest gal pal Will Work for Shoes is enjoying her vacation/honeymoon starting today!! I'm so excited for the love birds; and they are the swankiest married couple of 2006 (the honeymoon spot and the wedding gift from me put them over the top!). I would give details, but it's her business to tell you her business, savvy? As for Rogue Scholar, I do hope she called out sick today (and if she's reading this at her desk, then BAIL NOW, Rogue!!!!). I have the day off, and I'm kicking it off with Mimosas and my best friend Mary Jane; we're so friggin' inseparable. Please excuse any tangents or whimsical nonsense on my behalf.

I have a thousand topics running through my mind, but one in particular is standing out... "Revolt". Maybe it's just ingrained in me to rebel and rage against the machine on Mondays, but I so wish for carefree Mondays for all my peeps. Hell, I wish for carefree everyday, but I am spoiled like that. Just the other day, my coworker asked me, "What else do we have to do?", as we were running errands outside the office. My HONEST reply was, "Ummm, we need to go to the beach, NOW!... Or City Place... Don't ask me that!!!" After he shot me a "bitch, please" look, I broke it down that I have always been the "Ferris Bueller" of my crew. "Hey, Don't want to go to school... Dump it.... Work either? Dump it!" In the end, don't we all do what we want to do anyway? Even in going to work, you simply don't want to get fired; however,when you can't go to work, there is no question. You're not fucking showing up! You don't even consider the consequences!!! There are days in which I know that even if I show up in the office, I'm not going to be there. I fucking dump those days.

In the end, my coworker ended up taking me to the beach, City Place (an outdoor mall in downtown), and another mall. He offered lunch also, but I declined. He probably could sense my recent woes, or maybe he realized as I do everyday of my life: live it up. We could easily pretend to work, or we could have fun. I choose the latter. Who's coming with me?

In the end,

nOT~sO~cOSMO


Tuesday

Witizens:

Instead of my usual work attire of dresses or skirt/blouse, I showed up to the office today in a "FRANCE" futbol jersey, jeans, and flip flops... I'm having an "Office Space"/"Fight Club" breakdown and there is no end in sight. Without an attempt on my part, my coworker just took me to the beach and mall again. Later, we watched "Kill Bill: Vol. I" in the office, with him sprawled across the couch. I'm afraid I'm creating a monster, and that I've become one myself. Maybe I've been one all along... Perhaps we both are. A Palm Beach Princess Monster!!!! Ugh!

In my coworker's defense, we do manage to accomplish "some work", which is just pricing a few items needed in the office, but how in the hell could I explain the BEACH?! When did I become that spoiled little bitch again that skipped so many days of school that she was known as "Ferris"? Or the one that was never on college campus so much that a certain alliterative friend never saw me ONCE in a four year span... Perhaps, it never went away at all, but I would like to think I've outgrown some crazy antics. I'll ponder this all at the beach tomorrow. I mean work!

N~S~C

Suri Conspiracy #10056-563.666

Witizens:

I am so happy that Rogue and WW4Shoes totally embrace their genius/witsiness... truly, they get it. I was having a crappy day, and as God would will it, I read the brilliantly written "Suri Conspiracy #10056-563.566", and was in hysterics for quite some time. KUDOS! Not only is this conspiracy theory more realistic than the baby being of Satan's lineage (you can't prove/disprove that one either, so don't try), there is more documentation than one could imagine to support Rogue Scholar's conspiracy theory.

Since I know lazy people probably won't read further into TMZ.com (which I totally love now) brilliant reports, I figured I'd lay them out here.

Both babies were born on April 18 at St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica, where one Anne Heffernan is the registered nurse who signed both birth certificates. Heffernan, who never saw Suri, signed her birth certificate (she's only authorized to sign when a doctor is not available).

On the Suri Cruise certificate, Heffernan's license number is G48079. On the Grier Henchy certificate, Heffernan's license number is different -- G068399. After TMZ checked with the California Board of Registered Nursing, they were told Heffernan's license number didn't match either of the birth certificates; her real license number is 317058.

The license number on Grier's certificate comes back to a Dorothy Rork; whereas the license number on Suri's birth certificate is a mystery. There is no name attached to that license number.

As Rogue Scholar wrote, someone listed as "Friend" signed the certificate for Suri, unlike Brooke Shields who signed the one for her daughter (and like every other parent in the free standing world!!!).

All I have to say about the mysteries of childbirth is that it's never been surrounded by so much mystery due to the parents' wacky tactics. I'm close to thinking that when photos are finally published (word on the streets is the photos have already been sold to a big name magazine), that I won't be able to see Suri. I imagine that the photos of the family will be Tom will be holding his hands up in the air, Katie feeding and cradling nothing but air. It should be interesting to see how the world receives this little devil, alien, mirage baby... It's fun enough for me not seeing her.


Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

Suri Conspiracy #10056-563.566

Witizens:

Oh yes, conspiracy theory number 10056-563.566 of the “alleged” TomKitten, Suri Cruise. I saw this in US magazine, and it was so good, I just couldn’t let it go. First of all, Not So Cosmo has shared with all of us her ideas on the elusive infant. Let me share mine. Is there a child? Perhaps. Is it Tom and Katie’s? No. I believe they have paid, or worse yet (although I will give them the benefit of the doubt that money exchanged hands) kidnapped some girl that had the baby for them and they are keeping her around (paying her off) as the baby’s wet nurse. A little crazy you say? Let’s think about it. We have seen pictures of Katie out and about. We have seen pictures of Tom and Katie out and about. They are all over the place. Why isn’t she at home taking care of this infant? Yes, yes, I know all about nannies, but as a mother myself, I also know a WEE bit about taking care of babies. It is a 24 hour job. Especially when they are 4 months old. For the first few months, Suri would be eating every 2-4 hours. At 3 months, she probably hit a growth spurt and would be eating non-stop. I remember when my own was that little, I went 2 weeks without sleep because my body was so used to being awake feeding him!!! Besides that fact, Katie is a BRAND NEW MOM!!! She has never had children before (unless Dawson’s Creek is populated by children we don’t know about) and most new mom’s are infatuated with their new babies!! They can’t get enough of them. They want to be with them. Yes, even when dealing with projectile vomiting, 3am feedings, colic, and the unavoidable diaper changes…they want to be with them. There is something magical about babies and new moms can’t get enough. So maybe we need to be asking ourselves what the hell is wrong with Katie (besides the obvious). It makes perfect sense that Tom has paid some woman off to have a baby and raise it for them (despicable)

And perhaps there is some substance behind this theory of mine. TMZ.com has obtained an “official” copy of Suri’s birth certificate. It really is some great reading and I urge everyone to check it out. Let’s go through it. The first issue is the date. Suri was allegedly born April 18th, but the birth certificate wasn’t filed until May 4th when a “friend” came and signed as a witness. WTF!! When I had my son, I had to fill out the paperwork before I left the hospital. Not a friend, not even the father, ME-the MOM!! Who sends a friend to the hospital to fill out paperwork of your CHILD for you? Apparently the nurse who signed it didn’t actually SEE the tomkitten but is authorized to sign in the doctor’s absence. Okay, in this day in age when most hospitals are stepping up on security on the baby floors because of the crazy people that go in and steal babies, I can’t imagine that someone who didn’t even SEE the baby can sign a birth certificate. Especially when identity theft is so prevalent too. I digress… According to TMZ.com, “the hospital rep said that the circumstances that triggered the eventual signing of the birth certificate were that Suri needed a passport and a birth certificate is a prerequisite to obtaining one.” WTF2!! Who takes an INFANT out of the country? Someone trying to hide the baby and the real mom. And how else would this been accomplished without someone recognizing Tom or Katie? By having an ordinary mom taking her baby on a plane. The name on the passport would give them away, you say? Has anyone ever really gone through customs? As long as you don’t look suspicious, you pretty much get passed on through.

This is getting weirder and weirder, Witizens. Why go though all of the trouble to hide a baby. Is Tom waiting for his next big movie in order to gain publicity by showing this child? Heaven knows he needs SOMETHING to help him.

Rouge Scholar

Yeeeeeeeaaahh Boooooyyyeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Witzens:

It is time! Flavor "Fufi" Flav is back with his smash reality show, "Flavor of Love"; and OHH is it tasty. I'm usually the most anti-reality T.V. person that I know, but Will Work For Shoes changed my life when she asked, "Do you watch the 'Flavor of Love'? Oh MY GOD!! You have to! It's so bad that it's great!!!" Somehow, I couldn't argue with this logic (WWFS has the best taste for guilty pleasures), and I tuned in faithfully every week. It turned out to be the best show ever; an instant "water cooler" topic, and it was a spectacular convo piece at family gatherings. If you've never seen the show, I'll give you a quick synopsis: 20 women are living with Flavor Flav to compete for his love/get on television. The lengths these women were willing to go to be with FLAAAVOOR FLAAAAAAAAAAV was sofa king disgusting! Kissing, canoodling, and worse...sex with Flavor Flav is sick! Ewww! He looks like a burnt chicken wing, and they kiss him. That's just wrong. And before I get slammed by any critics for being a shallow bitch, I would like to say that looks aren't the only thing that matter (keyword: ONLY), but it's not like Flav exudes any other characteristics that would make up for his appearance. Just tune in to "Flavor of Love", watch him eating a meal, and you'll understand my distaste. I couldn't get paid to kiss him, let alone doing God-knows-what just to stay in competition for him. Hell no! Ugh!! Anyhow, a new season has just begun, and I'm sooooo flippin' excited and curious to see the hijinks of this season, as well as how these women can possibly outdo the girls of season 1; it should be deliciously scandalous. I'm so excited!

As for the new season that just kicked off last night, it has the promise to be more outrageous and OTT than the last season in just the first episode. The selection of girls this time around offered a bunch of video hoes/strippers (or ex-strippers), substance abusers (at least they seem strung out), "eccentric" television personalities, fat chicks, and ghetto ass chicks. There was already a fight in the house within the first 15 minutes of the show; one girl "Toastee" got just that, fucking toasted after an hour in the house; girl-on-girl fun was set in motion; tramps are already making out with Flav and professing love; verbal assaults between these bitches are non-stop; ah, yes, and someone took a shit on themself and the floor. That's right, I said it, the shit has officially hit the fan... or floor. And here I thought the show couldn't sink any lower... Ahhh, behold the power of cheesey T.V.

I know it doesn't make much sense for a person who believes there is only shit on the tele these days to purposefully watch the crappiest show in the last few decades, but that is precisely WHY I watch it. IF it's all crap anyway, I want to watch the one series that embraces what a piece of garbage it is. Unlike "The Bachelor" and "the Bachelorette", the "Flavor of Love" isn't trying to convince the audience that true love can be found in front of a rolling camera; rather it's a mockery of these shows. I'm a fan of sarcasm and satire, and Flavor Flav is giving his critique on the institutions of love, marriage, and the greed of humanity through his show, or at least, that's what I watch it for. In a country where homosexual love and marriage is frowned upon and illegal because it tarnishes the great institution of love/marriage, the how is it that reality T.V. is allowed to tarnish, trample, and trounce these institutions? Ohhh, right! Ratings = Money, and Money = Love, thus Ratings = Love!!! Now I get it (thank God I took geometry). Well, now that's cleared up, I urge everyone to check out "Flavor of Love"; you'll money this series just as much as I ratings it too.


Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

SCHOOL'S ON: Where did our summers go?

Wisty Readers,

Today in Central Florida 5 counties started school, 2 of which I drive through on my way to work (doesn't it seem early) and I am feeling very nostalgic this morning. Maybe it's the awesome tee that my husband bought me on Saturday that totally makes me think of the Billy Idol "Rock the Cradle of Love" video. Maybe it was the movie I watched Saturday afternoon which although set in present time, focused on a skating rink which was where I had all my fun back in the day. Or maybe it was the 6 hours of "I love the 90s" that I watched in VH1 yesterday (in my defense, it was a lazy Sunday and I was in and out of consciousness while napping on the couch.) Whatever it is, when I saw the kids approaching the school this morning, I just got a warm, rememeber when type of feeling. So here it goes...

Remember...

1. watching hours upon hours of TV during summer break (I lived on MTV and Nickelodeon.)
2. wishing school would start because you ran out of stuff to occupy yourself.
3. staying up late during summer break to watch Nick at Nite and USA Up all Nite.
4. going to the Rapids Waterpark at least once during the summer.
5. the first day of school came and you got to see all your friends in person for possibly the first time in 2 months.
6. when you had to go shopping for supplies (Trapper Keepers, Lisa Frank, book covers, the Crayola box w/ the built-in sharpener.
7. picking out the perfect outfit to wear on the first day of school.
8. getting a new Jansport.
9. the special way you ate your Fruit Roll-up.
10. morning annoucements and saying the Pledge of Allegiance everyday.
11. getting dressed out for gym and the creepy gym teacher who might be a lesbian.
12. walking/riding your bike to/from school with your friends or maybe you had to take the bus.
13. playing Pencils, TAG, Red Rover, Red Light/Green Light, 4 Square, tetherball, kickball, double-dutch, heads up 7-up...
14. school pizza (the best sponge with cheese on it you'll ever have.)
15. Chip-Wich, Strawberry Shortcake and Chocolate Eclair ice cream.
16. school assemblies where you all sat indian style on the gym floor.
17. yearning to shave your legs like the other girls (sorry fellas.)
18. class trips to museums or better yet, the high school for a drama production.
19. field day ( oh I so hope you had one.)
20. trying to remember your locker combination.

Ok. So I totally just aged myself there but I don't care. The high I am on will last me the rest of the day and that's not bad for a Monday. Please feel free to let me know what you love and miss most from those wonderful, care-free adolescent years. I would like to leave you with a few choice quotes:

You can only be young once. But you can always be immature.
Dave Barry (1947 - )

Young people are in a condition like permanent intoxication, because youth is sweet and they are growing.
Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC), 'Nicomachean Ethics'

You don't stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.
Michael Pritchard

Enjoy your Mondays.

Will Work For Shoes

A Drunken Mad Max & The Chain Reaction

Witizens:

I just can't stop... won't stop... Bad Boy for life! Another celebrity is on the chopping block today, and the axe is appropriately falling on Mel "Give Me Another Drink" Gibson. I'm not even going to pretend that I've never driven under the influence. How in the hell am I supposed to get home from the bar? I've even been pulled over by a cop after I've been drinking (luckily no sobriety check was done!); however, I have NEVER gone on to become a drunken, belligerent, bigoted idiot with the arresting officer. NEVER!!! Of course the press and media are having a field day with this one: Mel Gibson! Drunk driving! And antisemitism! Oh my!!! The Jewish community is highly offended, as they should be, especially since they all thought the Passion was a direct attack on Jewish people. I have a friend (of course Catholic) that said, "He gives all Catholics a bad name"; yet, I beg to differ. I think the only bad name that should come out of all this is one Mel Columcille Gerard Gibson. Since I am both a long time fan of Mr. Gibson and my Jewish people, I am willing to attempt to bridge two of my loves, and most importantly, reach out to Mel via Witsy with a letter. It shall go as follows:

"Mr. Mel Gibson:

I understand that we (loosely used, for I am not baptized) Catholics love to drink and talk about The Passion of the Christ, but your recent arrest made you look more like a Bird on a Wire than a good Christian. Driving under the influence does turn your everyday car into a Lethal Weapon, and for that alone, you should receive Punishment. Furthermore, your rant to the officer about the troubles of the world and how Jews are to blame for it all are Signs that you should have said, "No" to that last Tequila Sunrise. There was a time, maybe back when you were super hot and Forever Young, that the world would've just chocked it up to some young Maverick with a chip on his shoulder and blah blah blah. Now you're just older... and The Man Without a Face to all of us young, ordinary, and proud Patiots. It's very upsetting to me, as a lifetime fan, that you've gone from having quite a BraveHeart, to a low class, ranting Christian wanting some sort of Payback from the Jewish community for the death of Christ; quite the fall from grace.

A few years back, after you directed Passion, the Jewish community had their Conspiracy Theory that the whole thing was one big anti-Semitic movement of yourself and every other Catholic fundamentalist (i.e. your own father, who said that 'the holocaust was a figment of the Jews' imagination'!!!!!!!). And still, I defended the notion that you only got the inspiration from the Bible; after all, it isn't like you wrote the Gospels. After your debacle and recent run in with the law, I am forced to eat these words and come to the realization that you are no longer What Women Want. It would be in your best interest to apologize to the Jewish Community, Israel, and all your fans that you've offended with your antics. To be quite honest, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, but it could mend your public relations in the end. Please, with all the wars in the world, it is clear that we are in The Year of Living Dangerously, and we need the peace and love that Jesus preached and once tried to prepare us for (no offense to the Jews). Anything less than peace at a time of war is just as much a Lethal Weapon 2 us than war itself.

Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

P.S. "Melly Mel, the next time you get pulled over by the Pigs, it would be best not to imitate Adam Sandler's character from the The Longest Yard... just a Witsy suggestion... "

Hopefully I can send this to Mel Gibson, but in the meantime, I hope my Witizens can have a good laugh. (Italicized words are Mel Gibson's movie titles... I know... I'm insane.)

Britney's-Baby-Bobble-Head

Witizens:


Since I'm on a roll of celebrity bashing, I thought I'd take a special time out and write about the once reigning Princess of Pop: Britney Spears. Now of late, Britney has given up music (thank God) to focus on her family life (thank K. Fed). With her recent semi-retirement, Britney now spends more time being a mother and mother-to-be than making music. However, even at home, Mrs. Spears-Federline can't stop saying, "Ooops, I did it again". How many times can one person drop, bobble, or endanger their infant?! Damn!!! And if this said person is aware she's a butterfingers, why not hire someone to carry the baby around, or invest in baby helmets? What? Anything is better than the current situation.

Okay, I'm not a mother, but I am great with children and quite nurturing. I am also quite the lush who knows how to secure my cup in a way that I never spill a drop. However, when it comes to which I'm willing to bobble or drop: my drink or my baby, I'm willing to drop the fucking drink. Now I know that being a mom is a lot of hard work, but please just drop the cup!! You can buy another drink (especially with millions and millions of dollars), but you can't buy another baby. Sean Preston or my gin & tonic...hmmm......hmm... Britney got slammed by the tabloids after her baby fumble, but somehow she still managed to endanger that poor child even more. Funny, she has a song called "Overprotected", and yet... ahh, nevermind.

Recent aerial photos also caught the #1 Mom...of Pop driving around baby Sean in her convertible sports car without having him properly placed and fastened in. First of all, what the hell is a baby doing in a convertible? Those things aren't baby-friendly. It would take nothing for the baby to go catapulting out of the car. Oh my goodness. If I were being that fucking reckless, I would hope Family and Children Services would be knocking on my door. In addition to her baby hijinks, this silly bitch is pregnant again, and dare I say VERY soon after her first. (Doctors recommend six weeks of no sex, not six minutes.) Okay, if carrying a drink and an infant is too hard to do, imagine TWO infants. Someone please, just spike her drinks with birth control, the world does not need to be overpopulated with the offspring of stupid celebrities.

I know it's a new trend in Hollywood to be preggers, but it actually takes hard work and skill (unlike being a musician these days). If having babies is all the rage this season, I wish the powers-that-be will make horrible parenting "so five years ago".


Truly,

Not~So~Innocent

MTV Killed The Video Star

Witizens:

As I was reading the fabulous column and comments by Will Work for Shoes and the Rogue Scholar, I couldn't help thinking, "Video Killed the Radio Star". Oddly enough "Video Killed..." was the first video ever to air on MTV, and oddlier enough MTV just turned 25 years old yesterday. (Ladies, we're so in touch with everything going on... I heart us.) Since the birth of the music video, everyone's goals changed from wanting to be the best SOUND coming from the radio, to wanting to be the STAR of the video. Oh, what a wicked web we've spun Generation X; I think we've killed a part of music.

The day the music died...

In thinking back to my early days of watching MTV, BET, and VH1, I can recall when they actually still showed videos and it mainly focused on the artists singing or rapping. (Well, except for the mini movies Michael Jackson made, but the whole world LOVES those videos.) Now, the whole thing's gone Pete Tong (aka wrong). There's boat chases, pyrotechnics, half naked chicks, cameos from actors, cars on spinners, and DESIGNER EVERYTHING in every fucking video being made. What's worse is that all of those things have NOTHING to do with the songs and/or artists. There is more attention paid to looking good rather than sounding good , so much that these horrendous songs are being played on the television, but not so much the radio. I don't care how pretty you are, on the radio, musical talent is most welcomed.

When I watch music videos nowadays, it looks like a war in the fashion world has been waged and musicians are the branded foot soldiers. Louis, Gucci, Fendi, Chanel,... House of Derion?! Okay, enough. Even the musicians are becoming fashionistas and making their own (tacky) labels. IT MUST END!! Next, they'll think they're so great that they need their own fragrance of perfume. Ooops! Too late; it's already been done. Let's just everyone realize our TRUE talent and strive to perfect that one. Yeah, it's cool and I'm sure the money is wonderful, but some of these celebs know they can't sing, act, dance, model, design, and create fragrances; yet I go shopping and find Paris Hilton's crappy ass perfume on a shelf, and turn on the tele to find that even Ms. Hilton has a music video. Oy vez!!! Remember people, namely unskilled celebrities: a Jack of all trades is a master of none.


Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo

Witsy In Wonderland

Witsy Fanatics:

In case you missed me, let me explain that I was on a much needed and well deserved vacation. There is nothing like a road trip to clear (well fog out) your brain. I drove my happy ass to Orlando for the weekend and stayed with friends; the irresistibly cute newlyweds Daphne and her hubby Marcus “Aurelius”. Truly, I could not have hoped for better hosts, too kind they are. The purpose for the trip was to also attend the swankiest baby shower that I've ever been invited to for the expecting "KY" Jacky; kudos to Eryn and Will Work for Shoes for brilliant planning. If not for a certain loud-mouth woman, things would have been ab fab. I won't bore readers with details of a baby shower, there was the typical oohing and aaahing... clearly I'm not a mother.

Instead, I will launch into what I found to be the most confusing of events. It took place on I-95. I was driving back to Palm Beach County, and going well above the speed limit when I had to slow down a little. At that exact moment I also noticed that the 18 wheeler behind was pretty damn close to me; so I sped up to get out of his way. He responded by pulling alongside of me, honking his horn, and motioning for me to let the window down. I did. He then mouthed that "you have a broken brake light in back" from the far left lane, with me two lanes over in the far right lane. I said, "Thanks" and gave the ol’ thumbs up and went back to speeding. It didn't end there. He pulled along side of me again, but this time he mouthed, "what's your name?". What the hell? I think he could tell my confusion, because it mirrored his own. He looked like he didn't know why he was behaving that way either; which did put me at ease because he didn't seem creepy. So, I told him my name (my middle name to be safer...somehow), and he just kept smiling. Finally, I just drove off again, but for miles down the highway, he continued to follow me and try to ride right beside me. Did I forget to mention I never slowed from my 90mph speed? So here we are, two speeding vehicles, one an 18 wheeler and the other a Cadillac (known to rip through other cars), and he's trying to "holla" through traffic.

Now to be honest, Ray (which he told me was his name) was really attractive, and seemed nice and all, but what are my options? Pull over and talk to a complete stranger on the side of I-95? Continue speeding and talking down the highway? Let him ride along side of me until I exited and he followed? Ummm… no, no, and no. Never! I felt awful to keep speeding away from the guy, but I HATE riding next to huge Mack trucks. I think my source of confusion and concern stemmed from Ray trying to holla at speeds of 90+ mph!! Who does that? I think I'm nice and all, and I'm a cute girl (rolls eyes), but God damn... I wouldn't die just to find out my own name. Seriously, I would hope someone controlling an 18 wheeler is paying attention to the other cars on the road, not some chick speeding along lost in her own witsy wonderland. There are many places to try to pick up chicks... driving along I-95 is NOT one of them. Even if it is the sweetest of gestures, the wrecklessness is a bit much and a tell-tell sign of some crazy ass stalkerish behavior to come.


Truly,

Not~So~Cosmo