I fully understand that the children of america, the future of our nation, are in jeopardy. The education system is screwed, teachers are underpaid, etc, etc, etc. But there is a far more disturbing problem erupting from the very building that I work in every day. You see, there is a rather large nursing school housed in our lovely building. So everyday when I step off the train, I have to wade through a sea of women in cobalt blue scrubs, all of whom tug around those back-packs on wheels. Yes the back pack on wheels trend is disturbing ( are we now too good for straps? when did that happen?), but that is not my true concern. My concern is that this gaggle of nurses in training can always be found in one of three locations: 1) Loitering outside the Dunkin' Doughnuts 2) Loitering outside the Burger King/ Mc Donalds/ Chicken joint. 3) Loitering outside the building in a large cloud of cigarette smoke. Now, I don't mean to be an elitest health nut but come on. You are training to be nurses people. Would it kill you to trade in a doughnut run for a powerwalk instead? And please, let's discuss which is worse, a pregnant woman smoking, or a medical professional smoking. This goes beyond irony my friends. This is pure insanity.

I just had to pause to put on my glasses. Which means I think I am officially getting old. Either that or I am officially becoming a member of the Cubical Community... the Dilbert World... as I have actually begun to lose my sight from staring at a computer all day. This is no fault of my job, I feel the need to point that out. It is actually the result of my addiction to several crack-like websites:
www.defamer.com
www.gofugyourself.com
www.televisionwithoutpity.com
www.fametracker.com

You take a look at those, and about a week from now, when you can pull your eye away from their riveting content, post me a message letting me know how much you love me for introducing you. Or how much you hate me and how I have ruined your professional life forever. I owe my addiction to Alice M. Walton, my partner in crime at Variety. Now you can credit your addiction to me. Welcome to the life of a gossip junkie. It's a hard life. But very rewarding.

Don't you love it when things live up to the hype? Like Batman Begins. Aside from the rather lackluster/joey in a dull suit performance by Katie Holmes, the movie was awesome. So awesome in fact that it won back millions of movie goers who had written off Batman entirely after the last, rather flawed and ridiculous venture of Batman and Robin. I, of course, was not scared off at all. I thought B&R was great. Beautiful. Riveting. But I might be biased considering that this movie came out about the same time that I was blossiming into my womanhood, and I would have devoured and loved anything in which I could see Chris O'Donnell's body encased in latex.
You know what else totally lived up to the hype? Tivo. I remember hearing about it when it first came out and thinking "Who would pay all that money just to be able to pause live tv? Pee during the commercial breaks you rich freaks." But its legend continued to grow spawning the newest techy verb since "googling". People were "tivoing" everything! I began to fantasize about what it would be like to come home from work in the afternoon and not have to wade through channels looking for something comforting to unwind my mind with only to have to settle for the episode of Full House where they go to Disney World and Stephanie feels left out again (actually one of my faves, but i thought i'd use it in this instance to make a point). And then, I did it. I succommed. I was lured in by the siren song of a free DVR with purchase and now I have joined the ranks of the Tivo elite. And my god. It is fantastic.

Oh, by the way, did I mention that I am the most attractive girl in the city of Chicago? Well I am. Or, well, actually, let me rephrase. I seem to have a level of attractiveness that is noticeable and for some reason inviting to men who have no manners and or discernable grooming routines. That's right. I am a magnet for ugly rude guys. "Hey baby, I wish you were my baby's momma." "I am gonna make you a limited time offer to take a ride on what I'm packin'" " You better have a boyfriend or I am gonna take you home with me right now." "Guuuuurrrrrl you don't know WHAT you're doin to me." All of those brilliantly romantic comments were offered to me during during various trips on the lovely CTA bus system. After years and years of wondering what it would feel like to be legitimately hit on, I am now the queen of disgusting public offers. Why can't I get a normal, if somewhat smarmy guy in an Express for Men leather motorcycle jacket to make a lame-o joke about losing his number and wanting to borrow mine? Then I could just giggle and say, "Sorry, no thanks." and walk a way with a little teasing wiggle in my hips and consider my ego pumped. But no. I get the kind of comments that make vomit rise in my throat and cause me to immediately start digging for my keys and my cell phone just in case I need to stab him in the eye with my mailbox key and start dialing 911 as I sprint down the street in my troublesome stiletto heels. I don't know where I went wrong in my karmic cycle, but I don't think I deserve to be propositioned for dirty acts more than twice a week. It's just too much for a girl to handle.

Alright. that is all the ranting and raving I have stored up for this update....
until we meet again.