I attended a Game Night once. There were about twenty of us gathered in a rustic living room, one of those great places with wooden beams across the ceiling and a roaring fireplace in the corner, and all of us were splayed out comfortably across the rug. I don’t remember seeing any theme decorations on the tables, but I know there was alcohol on the counter in the kitchen. We played a bunch of different games, but my favorite was the one where we were all presented with some initials and we had to come up with what those initials stood for and one person had the actual answer and the point was to guess who had the correct response. The one I remember the best was P.A.S.S. Turns out those initials stand for a group who call themselves “Parents Against Subliminal Seduction,” which I guess holds sit-ins outside of Disney movies in an effort to finally put a forever stop to animators doing shit like making Aladdin get an erection or from having the … Continue reading →

Is there a woman out there who hasn’t once emphatically believed that a once promising relationship plummeted headfirst into the mucky black abyss due to the size of her thighs? (If someone somewhere is now staring at her computer screen in puzzlement while caressing her perfectly sized thighs, I hope she knows that it’s her terrible breath that always ruins things for her.) The truth – usually, unless you’re dating a complete douchebag – is that a couple of pounds are probably not the reason things died a horrible, screaming death in the love department. Something else went wrong between two people and it takes a very special kind of human being to attribute the totality of the misery only to a growing tummy and then meet on camera with a holistic trainer in the hopes of reviving a relationship that looks more like road kill than the dead possum I saw on the side of a highway last Tuesday.

I think Shannon is a very thin woman, but she raised her tank top on … Continue reading →

I was gravely concerned that after the outpouring of genuine sentiment and human devastation that occurred on last week’s show that it would be impossible for me to dive right in and judge these women in the way that they are apparently fine with being judged as long as they continue to hold onto a semblance of fame and the hope that they’ll one day snag an endorsement deal for a line of alcohol that nobody off one of these shows ever drinks. I mean, things started to feel different. An actual death transpired. There is now a body count in the OC.

Luckily for me – and really anybody who has a television and tunes in to this Botox-and-silicone-freak-show – Tamra still exists and the episode begins with some of her typical ridiculousness that allows me know immediately that everything will be just fine. Like a warm embrace from a t*t-enhanced angel, the first scene floated down and bathed me in the security and knowledge that life happens in cycles, that seasons pass seamlessly … Continue reading →