I find myself watching or being exposed to shows on MTV, the E!, middle-of-the-afternoon soap operas and talk shows on a weekly basis and feeling an intense urge to punch the screen because of certain celebrities. Who are these people? Let’s take a look:
1) Tyra Banks:
I hate Tyra Banks more than any German neo-nazi has ever hated a Jew. America’s Next Top Model makes me want to boil water and scald my skin off with it. The way she speaks on that show is enough to make any able-bodied human being wish they were Marlene Matlin in a heartbeat. Anyone who gets fat on purpose for attention deserves to be in a mental hospital. Someone put this woman in a straight-jacket.
2) Heidi Montag:
Heidi, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?? What the fuck are you famous for? What have you done besides Spencer Pratt in your lifetime? Ask yourself and get back to me.
4) Tara Reid:
Who thought it was a good idea for Tara Reid to act? The only thing Tara Reid can successfully act as is a wet mop. I’m actually wondering if she even has a pulse. She has the same aloof blow-up doll look on her face in every scene of every movie she’s ever been in. Watching her boyfriend burning to death in a tragic house fire? Blow-up doll face. Excited on Christmas morning? Blow-up doll face. Angry about locking her keys in her car? Blow-up doll face. There’s a rock in my front yard that has more personality than this girl.
5) Tori Spelling:
Tori Spelling looks like a foot. I think Chelsea Handler says it best when she stated the following: “Tori Spelling is mad at me for saying she looks like a man, but I refuse to apologize to him.” Ha. Chelsea, you witty bitch. Tori’s head is 6 sizes too large for her body. Eat a sandwich before you become so top-heavy that you have to start opening doors with your feet.
6) Nancy Grace:
Nancy Grace scares me. It doesn’t matter what news story she is reporting, she always looks psychotic and ready to scratch your eyes out. I don’t like being afraid to watch the news. Nancy, your eyeballs are literally popping out of your head. Can you not feel this? Your eyeballs are literally in danger of falling into your Lucky Charms in the morning. Tuck those bastards in.
7) Every girl on Super Sweet 16:
I’m sorry–the pony, Mazerati, helicopter, diamond studded Blackberry, completely new wardrobe, 400 square foot cake, juggling midgets, and live Britney Spears concert wasn’t enough to celebrate you barely being old enough to grow pubic hair? My apologies, how selfish of your horrible parents. Do you know what I got on my sixteenth birthday, Natasha? A moderately priced dinner, two shirts, and a car payment. Shut up.
8) Kanye West:
Kanye West thinks he is the hottest thing since sliced bread, and that bothers me. Sure, he is a good artist, there is no doubt about this, but if there was ever a Narcissist, Kanye West is it. When you’re that in love with yourself, it’s hard to leave room for other people to love you too, Kanye. I hate you. And stop dressing like Edward Scissor Hands from Mars.
Send your restraining orders accordingly.
Bananas are like nature’s prepackaged snack food. I consume large quantities of fresh fruit these days because of its convenience, and bananas are one fruit that blow my mind every time. However, my diet lately is made up almost entirely out of fresh strawberries coated with loads of Equal. It’s too bad strawberries cost $60 a carton and that artificial sweeteners cause brain cancer. Can’t win ’em all. I’m starting to wonder if a diet made up of 80% strawberries and aspartame have any real health risks related to them (other than the obvious). The only consequence I can think up is a sexy bod. I’m not mad.
While Facebook stalking dimwit sorority girls from U of I the other day, I came across a profile with the following eye into one particular girl’s unique personality:
Television Shows: Laguna Beach, best show ever!!!!!! and THE HILLS!!!
This girl must be great at conversation. Assuming her favorite subjects in school are The Real World and hairspray, I imagine the greats like Aristotle and Confucius look down in disappointment, wishing they had had the opportunity to join minds with such a powerful intellect when they were around. It’s a shame some people choose to procreate.
The other day in the supermarket I noticed the arrival of a new soda by Dr. Pepper:Dr. Pepper Cherry. Somebody at that factory is working for me. Combining two of my favorite flavors into one mind-blowing concoction?? What did I even do to deserve this? I feel so spoiled.
Something needs to be done about my brakes immediately. People at stop lights turn to stare in bewilderment as my car pulls up to the intersection, squealing like a pig on fire. My brakes are squeakier than Mr. Clean. I am genuinely concerned that at any time, my brake pads will fail me entirely and I will sail into a 4-way intersection and get pile-drived by a FedEx truck, an Expedition, and a Corolla, totaling my car and ending my life. “Why don’t you go to Midas and get your brakes fixed, Becca?” Why is Tara Reid an actress? Get off my back.
Ryan Steffen has finally moved into my apartment, so it is no longer just me, my 2002 television, and nail-polish stained carpet here alone anymore. When Brandon left, he took every stick of furniture and flatware our apartment contained, aside from one lazy boy chair that was only left behind because he couldn’t fit it into the moving truck when he left. I was without a coffee table, entertainment stand, couch, end tables–my living room had just my TV sitting on the floor, and the scattered Gushers wrapper left behind by Mr. Franks. I had been re-washing the stolen spoons and forks from Chipotle I had pillaged weeks prior to Ryan’s arrival, and it was about time I replaced them. Thanks for the silverware, Ryan.
Anyway, it’s 10:53 and I made a very serious commitment to being in bed by 11 tonight, and I fully intend on doing that. I love sleeping. Sleeping loves me. It’s a really fulfilling relationship.
“Receiving a vibrator for your birthday is funny. Receiving twelve is not.”