Keeping up with this blog is a real challenge for me. I want to write things that are interesting, engaging, and somewhat fun to read, but this is not an easy task! I was recently inspired by a friend to read some of my old livejournal entries (for those of you who aren't familiar with livejournal, it's basically like a blog that I kept on and off for a few years, starting in 2001). Apparently, I used to think that every boring detail of my life would be interesting for my friends to read. This clearly could not have been the case, but what is interesting is looking back at the old me with a more mature, less angsty set of eyes. My old musings range from being humorously obnoxious to painfully pathetic. Ironically, in one entry from 2002, I did what I'm doing now; I reminisced on the dork I once was. (Well, I'm still a dork and always will be, but you get the point.) In this instance, I posted an old diary entry I had written when I was 12, as well as a couple of journal assignments from my 1st grade composition book. Unfortunately, I no longer have the old diary I kept in 1996, nor my composition book circa 1991. All I have left are the following, spelling and grammatical mistakes left uncorrected:
January 6, 1996
It is 1:30 right now and I stayed home from school because I am sick. I also need to catch up on some homework and I am working on that right now. Yesterday I missed gym and I stayed at Missy's house untill about 8:30. Missy wasn't there, though, only Trampus. I played a really fun game on their web t.v. I'm pretty bored right now. I am the only one home. I am feeling much better. Right now I am just bloated. I took a bath this morning, but I slepped on my wet hair and when I woke up it was really messy, so I am going to go take another bath. I'm just going to soak and relaxe. Mom will be home at about 3:00. As soon as she is home, we (Mom, Meagan, Breezy, me & Ray) to the movies at Edwards 21 to see Titanic & go to Galaxy. The movie starts at 4:15. Bye!
April 1991
Dear Mrs. Serrano
I lik Rainbow's. Rainbow's are biutiful. eatch day it rains I lik. to look out my windo when it stops raining. and see the biutuful Rainbows.
Dear Tiffany,
Rainbows are really beautiful! I like seeing rainbows at the bottom of a waterfall, or in the sprinklers. Where do you like seeing rainbows?
I lik to see rainbows at the end of a stream.
April 24, 1991
Dear Tiffany,
That sounds very pretty! Speaking of streams, have you ever been on a picnic by a stream? Tell me about it!
Love, Mrs. Serrano
Yes I have Bin in a picnic by a stream ther bin some grass ther to and that was also beautiful!
April 26, 1991
Dear Tiffany,
I remember having a picnic by a huge waterfall in Yosimite. We had our bikes. The water was roaring and crashing nearby and we were getting wet from the spray and mist. Some little squirrels came by to beg but we didn't feed them. We also could see some little rainbows in the mist! Have you ever been camping? When, where and with whom?
no I havent been camping but ones I have campt under a tree!
Dear Mrs. Serrano
I wood like to own a big boat so a tub boat wood pul my! boat and that wood be fun!
Well, there you have it. I wish everything in the world was as beautiful and wondrous as it was when I was seven. On the other hand, I still tend to tell my friends when I'm feeling bloated. Some things never change!
Putting the fun in dysfunctional for over 27 years.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
I'm Too Sexy for This Blog: A Sarcastic Self-Portrait
In case you didn’t know, I’m breathtakingly beautiful and sexy. I know most of you reading this right now are rolling your eyes thinking “Well, duh, Tiff! Tell me something I don’t know!” My otherworldly good looks are practically common knowledge, after all. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. I can’t help it.
I’m such an amazingly attractive human being that I’m stared and gawked at virtually everywhere I go. I know what major Hollywood stars feel like. It is both a blessing and a curse. I can’t blame people for staring; my beauty is a lot to take in. Since I’m so kind and accommodating, I’m going to take you on a journey of all my most beautiful features, analyzing each one with a fine-toothed comb.
First of all, I have a fantastic big nose. My nose is wide and long, with an adorable little bump in the bridge. Not only is it extremely sexy (as most abnormally large noses are), it also provides me with super-human sniffing powers. I can smell fragrant flowers and fresh baked bread from a mile away. It’s a gift. Then there’s the impeccable skin on my face, which is adorned with captivating acne scars. I’m unique and lucky in this way. Smooth, blemish-free skin is okay, it’s just kind of boring. My cheeks have an awesome texture and are covered in cool designs. If you don’t have gorgeous scars on your face for the whole world to admire, then I feel sorry for you. Try not to envy me, though, really. It’s not my fault I was blessed with such loveliness and allure. Anyway, moving right along to another piece of the immaculate puzzle that makes up Tiffy…I have the most spectacular thick, dull, and frizzy locks of golden brown hair. It’s short, sassy, and fun, with stringy little flyaways that give me that ultra-sexy “I’m gorgeous without even trying” look. By the way, my short hair cut is quite convenient for showing off my endearing oversized ears. Bigger really is better, folks. I’ve decorated my glamorously prominent ears with rings, just to make them even more conspicuous. I just can’t resist showing off a single one of my irresistible features—I’m sure you understand. That leads me to the next piece of amazingness, my lips. They are quirky and fabulously misshapen. I try to smile as often as I can because my smile is crooked. One side of my lip raises higher than the other, and it’s an extremely adorable look—no one has told me so, but they don’t have to. I know it’s what they’re thinking. Moving south passed my cute hairy chin lies my dazzling, not-so-swanlike neck. Some rather fetching moles reside here (beauty marks), that really add to its grace and glamour. People are always telling me what a truly sexy and attractive neck I have, and how they wish their neck looked like mine. They don’t come right out and say it, but they tell me with their eyes. Trust me, they do.
Well, those are the very best of my above-the-shoulder features. I know you’re all probably reading this completely enthralled and hungry for more. I could delve into my perfect body: my wide, sexy hips, bountifully immense derriere, and my undeniably appealing cellulite and spider veins, but maybe another time. I need to rest these beautifully cracked and dry freckled fingers.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
My Thrifty, Nifty Dad
I've been told many times in my life that I'm "just like my dad". I've always taken this as a compliment, though it was oftentimes not intended as one. Me and my dad are very different people in many ways, but we're both thrifty, silly, sarcastic, goofballs who try not to take life too seriously.
I was born in San Jose, California, and lived there with my family until we moved to Idaho when I was seven years old. This move and the sale of our California house put a lot of stress on our family, and it essentially marked the end of my parents' marriage. In Idaho, I remained living with my mother and sisters, and only saw my dad about a couple times a month for the duration of my childhood and adolescent years. He held odd jobs such as a pizza delivery man for Domino's and a laborer for a large slaughterhouse, but his longest lasting job was as a long-haul trucker. He took a lot of pride in his job, which entailed delivering everything from a trailer full of frozen burger patties to fast food restaurants, to clothes and toiletries to supermarkets. When I first got to go inside my dad's work truck, I was in awe. It had an actual bed in it, a CB radio which enabled him to talk to other truckers, and even a little TV. My nine-year-old mind was thoroughly impressed. My dad was the coolest.
I knew my dad was cool and funny, but even at a young age I recognized his flaws. One thing my father always struggled with was knowing what gifts to get us for our birthdays and Christmas. He didn't see us often enough to keep up with our ever-changing tastes, so usually his gifts left us a bit puzzled. Also, he never had much money, and the money he did have he was very careful with. That is to say he was a total cheapskate. It was either my 11th or 12th birthday that he gave me a a gift basket that was partially enclosed in torn plastic wrap. It was filled with potpourri, soaps, and bath salts. He explained that it was ripped because it had fallen off his work trailer. It was part of a load full of gift baskets that he was delivering to a chain store. He had been lucky enough to find me a birthday present for free!
Another unfortunate instance involved the Christmas gift my dad got for my older sister Meagan one year. She was in her mid-20s at the time and he got her a large stuffed animal. There is nothing wrong with adults owning or even collecting stuffed animals, but Meagan wasn't one of them. She was perplexed by this gift, but thanked him anyway. After all, it's the thought that counts, right? We aren't ungrateful daughters. Plus, I'm sure he got a really good deal on it, and that always mattered.
The saying "one man's trash is another man's treasure" was probably first uttered with my dad in mind. One of his favorite pastimes has always been taking walks, particularly ones near railroad tracks. He has always been amazed at the really good free stuff you could find on the train tracks. Once he found a T-shirt on the tracks that had a picture of cartoon ducks playing in a rock-and-roll band and read "Sex, Ducks, and Rock-And-Roll". He couldn't get over what great condition the shirt was in. All it needed was to be washed, and someone had the audacity to just throw it away! It fit my older sister Melissa, who must have been around 16 at the time, and he judged it an appropriate gift for his adolescent daughter. Melissa actually liked the shirt and wore it often.
To be clear, my dad wasn't just cheap when it came to other people. He hated spending money, and was always as thrifty possible. Rarely, if ever, do I recall him buying new clothes for himself or eating at restaurants that weren't fast food or cheap truck stop buffets. He was even kicked out of a buffet for only paying once, yet sticking around all day reading the paper and making multiple trips to get more food. He was just trying to "get his money's worth", he says.
My father always took great pride in his thrifty ways. He explained to me once that instead of buying a $.79 ready-made gas station hot dog, he would buy a package of ten hot dogs for $1.29, then "cook" the cold hot dogs using heat from his truck engine. He also liked purchasing one jumbo-size soda at the movie theater, (one that comes in a plastic cup that is free to refill), then saving it so he can sneak it in on multiple trips to the theater for endless free refills. He told me once that he's probably saved himself hundreds of dollars by being a small-time criminal in this way. He recalled to me in vivid detail the sad day when his plastic cup was smashed and shattered under the pressure of his car's seat. He was forced to fork out $5.50 again for another overpriced movie soda, and was going to take better care of this new cup so he can sneak free sodas with it for as long as possible.
My dad is thrifty to a fault, but he has gotten a lot better over the years. These days he enjoys an expensive restaurant meal on occasion, and prefers to give out cash or gift cards when he's not sure what someone would like for Christmas. There are some good lessons I've learned from my father. It's because of him that I purchase most of my clothes at consignment shops, buy the store brand when I go grocery shopping, and tuck a portion of each paycheck aside for savings. Alternatively, I've tried to show him that life is too short to cook a hot dog on a truck engine just to save a buck.
Tomorrow may be mother's day, but today I'm thinking about my father. Despite all of his eccentricities and shortcomings, I never once doubted that he loved me. I will always love and appreciate my thrifty, nifty dad.
I was born in San Jose, California, and lived there with my family until we moved to Idaho when I was seven years old. This move and the sale of our California house put a lot of stress on our family, and it essentially marked the end of my parents' marriage. In Idaho, I remained living with my mother and sisters, and only saw my dad about a couple times a month for the duration of my childhood and adolescent years. He held odd jobs such as a pizza delivery man for Domino's and a laborer for a large slaughterhouse, but his longest lasting job was as a long-haul trucker. He took a lot of pride in his job, which entailed delivering everything from a trailer full of frozen burger patties to fast food restaurants, to clothes and toiletries to supermarkets. When I first got to go inside my dad's work truck, I was in awe. It had an actual bed in it, a CB radio which enabled him to talk to other truckers, and even a little TV. My nine-year-old mind was thoroughly impressed. My dad was the coolest.
I knew my dad was cool and funny, but even at a young age I recognized his flaws. One thing my father always struggled with was knowing what gifts to get us for our birthdays and Christmas. He didn't see us often enough to keep up with our ever-changing tastes, so usually his gifts left us a bit puzzled. Also, he never had much money, and the money he did have he was very careful with. That is to say he was a total cheapskate. It was either my 11th or 12th birthday that he gave me a a gift basket that was partially enclosed in torn plastic wrap. It was filled with potpourri, soaps, and bath salts. He explained that it was ripped because it had fallen off his work trailer. It was part of a load full of gift baskets that he was delivering to a chain store. He had been lucky enough to find me a birthday present for free!
Another unfortunate instance involved the Christmas gift my dad got for my older sister Meagan one year. She was in her mid-20s at the time and he got her a large stuffed animal. There is nothing wrong with adults owning or even collecting stuffed animals, but Meagan wasn't one of them. She was perplexed by this gift, but thanked him anyway. After all, it's the thought that counts, right? We aren't ungrateful daughters. Plus, I'm sure he got a really good deal on it, and that always mattered.
The saying "one man's trash is another man's treasure" was probably first uttered with my dad in mind. One of his favorite pastimes has always been taking walks, particularly ones near railroad tracks. He has always been amazed at the really good free stuff you could find on the train tracks. Once he found a T-shirt on the tracks that had a picture of cartoon ducks playing in a rock-and-roll band and read "Sex, Ducks, and Rock-And-Roll". He couldn't get over what great condition the shirt was in. All it needed was to be washed, and someone had the audacity to just throw it away! It fit my older sister Melissa, who must have been around 16 at the time, and he judged it an appropriate gift for his adolescent daughter. Melissa actually liked the shirt and wore it often.
To be clear, my dad wasn't just cheap when it came to other people. He hated spending money, and was always as thrifty possible. Rarely, if ever, do I recall him buying new clothes for himself or eating at restaurants that weren't fast food or cheap truck stop buffets. He was even kicked out of a buffet for only paying once, yet sticking around all day reading the paper and making multiple trips to get more food. He was just trying to "get his money's worth", he says.
My father always took great pride in his thrifty ways. He explained to me once that instead of buying a $.79 ready-made gas station hot dog, he would buy a package of ten hot dogs for $1.29, then "cook" the cold hot dogs using heat from his truck engine. He also liked purchasing one jumbo-size soda at the movie theater, (one that comes in a plastic cup that is free to refill), then saving it so he can sneak it in on multiple trips to the theater for endless free refills. He told me once that he's probably saved himself hundreds of dollars by being a small-time criminal in this way. He recalled to me in vivid detail the sad day when his plastic cup was smashed and shattered under the pressure of his car's seat. He was forced to fork out $5.50 again for another overpriced movie soda, and was going to take better care of this new cup so he can sneak free sodas with it for as long as possible.
My dad is thrifty to a fault, but he has gotten a lot better over the years. These days he enjoys an expensive restaurant meal on occasion, and prefers to give out cash or gift cards when he's not sure what someone would like for Christmas. There are some good lessons I've learned from my father. It's because of him that I purchase most of my clothes at consignment shops, buy the store brand when I go grocery shopping, and tuck a portion of each paycheck aside for savings. Alternatively, I've tried to show him that life is too short to cook a hot dog on a truck engine just to save a buck.
Tomorrow may be mother's day, but today I'm thinking about my father. Despite all of his eccentricities and shortcomings, I never once doubted that he loved me. I will always love and appreciate my thrifty, nifty dad.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Happiness Comes From Within
“When I was five years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment; I told them they didn’t understand life.”
-John Lennon
It doesn’t matter whether you’re five or ninety-five, male or female, introvert or extrovert, American or Saudi Arabian, we all want the same basic thing in life: happiness. I used to think that if only certain things in my life would happen, then I would be happy. I thought happiness was something that I could achieve through external means. Once I got my dream job, the body I want, more money, the perfect boyfriend, people who admired and looked up to me—once I had attained all of these prerequisites—then and only then could I be truly happy.
I’ve only recently adopted the belief that happiness is not dependent upon circumstances, but rather is a state of mind. I’ve struggled with this concept because when I do something I enjoy, accomplish a goal, or spend quality time with someone I love, I feel happy. These things make me happy…or so I thought. Well, therein lies the difference between pleasure and happiness. Pleasure is fleeting, shallow gratification which is experienced only through external means. However, happiness is something you can attain through meditation and the power of positive thinking. With practice and the right attitude, I’ve learned that anyone can achieve happiness regardless of your current life situation. The bonus is that when you are truly happy and optimistic, your positive attitude is contagious, and others will enjoy being around you.
It’s important (and probably obvious) to note that happy people are not happy all the time. Everyone experiences sadness and grief sometimes. In addition, it’s not always easy to just “be happy” when life’s dealt you unfortunate circumstances and events. Choosing to be happy and maintain optimism during life’s struggles can be incredibly challenging, and at times may seem nearly impossible. So this begs the question, why are some people more fulfilled, optimistic, and in general, more happy than others? Do they just have all the luck in life?
I’ve chosen to believe (and my personal experience with positive thinking has vindicated my belief), that optimism is the key to happiness. But there has to be more to it than that, right? I decided to look up and see what research in the area shows:
“Studies on what makes people happy reveal that it doesn’t have much to do with material goods or high achievement; it seems to whittle down to your outlook on life, and the quality of your relationships with the people around you” (Herrick, J., et al.).
It comforts me to know that I have the power within me to attain happiness, and that enriching relationships with loved ones who offer me courage and support definitely attribute to my emotional wellbeing.
To me, this is all such exciting news. Of course, I still have plenty of goals for the future. My road to self-discovery has not ended, and I hope to continue improving myself as a person until the day I die. But it’s great to know that I have the key to happiness, and I can experience it right here, right now, just where I’m at in life. I hold the power to true happiness within me; I just have to recognize that and enjoy it.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Feminism and the Man-Hating Double Standard
I was raised to be man-hater. I grew up in a home with a single mom (who happened to be both mentally and emotionally unstable, but I’ll delve deeper into that some other time), and three sisters. Five females under one roof and no males…at least not ones that stuck around for long. My mother gave me the impression that all boys were evil. According to her, they were all smelly, cruel, disgusting, and stupid. Women were by far the superior sex. I had to remind myself of this important information when, starting at about age 11, I thought some boys were cute. I wanted to play with the cute ones at recess and sit next to them at lunch. But they were boys, which meant they were evil. Even though I was young, I knew that eventually I was going to have a boyfriend. It looked fun and exciting to have a boyfriend, and almost all girls had them when they got older. I saw my older sisters having boyfriends, and I knew at some point in the past my mom had boyfriends and even a husband. But how does that work? If all boys are evil, why did girls want to kiss them, hold hands, and go to the movies with them?
Third-wave feminism was a prevalent theme in our home throughout the 90s, presenting itself in the form of films such as The First Wives Club, Boys On The Side, If These Walls Could Talk, and anything on the Lifetime channel. The message that all men were terrible human beings was clear and deeply ingrained. Unfortunately, this message did me no good at all. I didn’t grow into an empowered young woman who wasn’t going to take any crap from the lesser sex. Instead, I resembled one of the sad, wounded characters from a man-eating episode of Ricki Lake.
At age 17, I started dating my first real boyfriend. (I know what you’re thinking. I was a late bloomer.) I thought it was amazing that a boy actually liked me and wanted to be with me. Nevermind the fact that he was controlling and short-tempered, I mean, he was a boy after all; what did I expect? I figured there probably wasn’t another boy out there that was much better, and if there was, they probably wouldn’t want to date a weirdo like me. I was an insecure 17-year-old, and I excused everything my boyfriend did that I disapproved of because I thought being alone was the worse alternative. So at age 18 I married my boyfriend. I stayed with him in a nightmare of a marriage for the next eight years, and after leaving him last fall, my life has finally begun.
The strong feminist message that was instilled in me growing up gave me the idea that all men were bastards, and the ones that acted nice just wanted to have sex, or were in a good mood because they were having sex. This skewed and harmful message about men is not what led me into the arms of a guy that wasn’t nice, but it certainly didn’t help. If I had been taught that respect goes both ways, and that boys deserve it just as much as girls do, I would have known that a healthy relationship was possible.
I don’t necessarily have anything against feminists. Certainly through history, they have helped bring about much needed change and have made tremendous strides toward gender equality in this country. Sadly, our nation has an ugly history of treating women like second-class citizens, but that doesn’t make it okay to bash men now. I hate double standards, and for me, it’s unacceptable for pre-teens to wear shirts that say “Boys are smelly, throw rocks at them!” and for the bumbling, idiot father to be the butt of every joke in commercials, sitcoms, and even major studio films. We wouldn’t stand for women to be portrayed in such a degrading and disrespectful way, so why is it okay to portray men like this? You may be thinking I’m just being uptight, overreacting, and need to “learn to take a joke”, but I disagree. I’m not a feminist, I’m an equalist. Girls and boys deserve mutual respect. As a society, how can we ladies expect to be treated like princesses when we are constantly breaking men down, and expecting them to fail before giving them a fair chance? Luckily, I found out that there are good guys out there. And I’d venture to guess they’re not too keen on man-haters.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Facing My Shadow
When I was seven years old, I dressed up as Peter Pan's shadow for Halloween. It was one of my best costumes ever. It consisted of a black unitard with a big gray S on it, floppy slippers, and lots of pretty silver sparkles. Now I've had my share of awesome Halloween costumes (a carton of milk, a bunch of grapes, a bag of popcorn - I like to look in the kitchen for inspiration), but Peter Pan's shadow was one of the very best. I was thinking today about how lucky Peter Pan was that his shadow just runs away and he is left to live his carefree life with the Lost Boys in Never-Never Land. How nice would it be to just not have to deal with your problems? To be able to lose your shadow, to run away, to not have to look back?
I've gone through a lot of changes in my life over the past two years: moved to Alaska, changed jobs, became pregnant and miscarried, got a divorce, embarked on a new relationship, moved several times. Big problems have accompanied these changes. Problems that I've had to learn to deal with. I am 27 years old; I'm a big girl now, and I have to deal with my own problems. Unfortunately, there has never really been someone there to hold my hand and help me deal with things. I didn't have parents I felt I could go to for help, and I closed myself off from kind people who would have given me their support out of my own bitterness and embarrassment. So what have I always done? I've simply not dealt with them.
Not dealing with things kept me in an unhappy, unhealthy marriage for over eight years. This in turn kept me from making new friends, from experiencing new things - essentially, it kept me from truly living.
Sometimes I've felt so overwhelmed with things I don't want to deal with that I've fantasized about hopping on the next one-way plane to Idaho and leaving all my troubles behind. But it doesn't work that way. Unlike Peter Pan, I can't just run away from my shadow. My problems will follow me wherever I go, and it's up to me to be a big girl and resolve them on my own.
I have finally learned that I owe it to myself and my loved ones to take care of issues that are bothering me right away. You know, come to think of it, Peter Pan's shadow is not such a great costume after all.
I've gone through a lot of changes in my life over the past two years: moved to Alaska, changed jobs, became pregnant and miscarried, got a divorce, embarked on a new relationship, moved several times. Big problems have accompanied these changes. Problems that I've had to learn to deal with. I am 27 years old; I'm a big girl now, and I have to deal with my own problems. Unfortunately, there has never really been someone there to hold my hand and help me deal with things. I didn't have parents I felt I could go to for help, and I closed myself off from kind people who would have given me their support out of my own bitterness and embarrassment. So what have I always done? I've simply not dealt with them.
Not dealing with things kept me in an unhappy, unhealthy marriage for over eight years. This in turn kept me from making new friends, from experiencing new things - essentially, it kept me from truly living.
Sometimes I've felt so overwhelmed with things I don't want to deal with that I've fantasized about hopping on the next one-way plane to Idaho and leaving all my troubles behind. But it doesn't work that way. Unlike Peter Pan, I can't just run away from my shadow. My problems will follow me wherever I go, and it's up to me to be a big girl and resolve them on my own.
I have finally learned that I owe it to myself and my loved ones to take care of issues that are bothering me right away. You know, come to think of it, Peter Pan's shadow is not such a great costume after all.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The big debut of my bloggety-blog!
DUN DUN DUN.....my new blog!! I don't really know where to begin, so I'll start with what's been on my mind lately: reality TV shows. It's truly mind-boggling to me how many ridiculous reality shows are on television. (I won't even get into the Sarah Palin one.) Now I don't watch TV, but I do listen to the radio in the morning, and that is how I heard about the groundbreaking new reality show Extreme Couponing, which debuted last night on TLC to over 2 million viewers. 0_0 Wow. It's a show about coupons. People using coupons. Yep, that's the whole show - coupon aficionados doing what they do best - and 2 million people tuned in to witness the dramatics.
Wait! No, that's not fair. It's not just "people using coupons"....it's people saving money by being smart, thrifty and resourceful....people being frugal, and by being so, are providing their families with a better life, and their children with a more promising future...these are selfless, honorable people who scour every Sunday paper, spend countless hours cutting, organizing, and planning, then slave away on their shopping trips to make the most out of said coupons....are you thinking what I'm thinking? These people are the lifeblood of this country! They are heroes! *sheds a tear*...Sorry, I got a little carried away there.
But I digress. Reality shows are a guilty pleasure, but why do we get pleasure from watching eccentric people doing mundane things? For me, personally, the popularity of "reality" TV highlights a disturbing trend in this country toward mindless, dumbed-down entertainment; yet, I also understand how watching people more messed up than you can be a great ego boost (the Jerry Springer effect.) I'm left sitting here pondering the novelty of it all, and wondering what riveting show they will come up with next. I just looked out the window for inspiration and there's an Xpress Lube across the street. Maybe the next reality show will be about people getting their vehicle's oil changed. Wow, I better patent this idea before someone else steals it!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)