lunes, 28 de septiembre de 2009
miércoles, 26 de agosto de 2009
sábado, 15 de agosto de 2009
lunes, 10 de agosto de 2009
domingo, 9 de agosto de 2009
Me, jaw actually resting on the floor, barely able to speak: "...No...?"
miércoles, 1 de julio de 2009
Today I will take a diplomatic turn and talk about everyone's favorite topic, the economy.
The economy is genuinely freaking me the shit out. Let's not mention the fact that I'm one YEAR shy of graduation. It's not right. I am about to pull a Van Wilder on UNC... think I'm graduating? Nope. But really... jobs are few and far between, especially in my chosen field, Journalism.
And ladies and gentlemen, desperate times might just call for desperate measures.
Let me drop an anecdote on you really quick. As a young girl, I always had the same bizarre ambition. Whenever my parents would question me as to my future dreams, I would gaze wistfully in the distance, think for a split second and respond with 100% honesty...
"I want to be a stripper."
Now, that ambition eventually subsided as I moved on to more respectable dreams, like becoming a teacher, or a marine biologist, or a journalist. However, with the economy as it is now, I might have no other choice.
You might be reading this and thinking, "Andrea... a stripper? HA HA HA," but I have been thinking about this for weeks now. First of all, I would have to work my ass off in the gym to get a stripper's body, but I would be willing. I guess you could also argue that I would lose a bit of dignity up there, but you would only say that if you knew me. Also, good to know: I HATE CREEPS. This might be a problem, but there are security in these places, right? The bottom line is the $$$$$ involved. I could make daaaaayum good money for shedding my clothes. If there were nothing for me to do, and I had to choose between loafing at my parents' house or hitting the pole...
You know where to find me.
viernes, 15 de mayo de 2009
I don't think anyone reads this blog, so I guess this post is just for my own personal pleasure... if you know what I mean. I found this video on the web today and about died/cried/etc. Here's why:
lunes, 13 de abril de 2009
And after realizing this box was checked, I got a bit offended. Why would anyone question whether or not I was a female? Would anyone need reassurance that I was the gender they thought I was in my picture? Am I butch?
I guess what I'm questioning is the necessity of this box. In what circumstance would you need it? Besides my dogs (friend them, they are literally on FB), nobody I know is remotely close to being a questionable gender that the box is even necessary. I wish I could see one instance in which that box might be useful. For now, the search continues, but I still think the box is another pointless addition from the Facebook team.
domingo, 12 de abril de 2009
Today, I am in the reflective mood. It's raining in Sevilla, so I am confined to my room, a smaller-than-Hinton-James yellow cell, where all I can do is think about my life. And it's about to get reeeal deep, people. (That's what he said). You know how you really love someone, and then they just go and change on you, seemingly overnight? Like, you appreciate someone for who they are as a person or artist, for their talent and shining personality, and then they go and get all attractive, famous, and douche-y on you?
That's right. Today, I have a longing in my heart to bring back the semi-fat John Mayer.
Okay, really... John wasn't really fat, persay. And it's not really his physique that I miss. I miss the old John Mayer who wasn't in the tabloids... who wasn't into himself... and who didn't date the most annoying women in Hollywood.
Some of you might be jumping to his defense, saying that I am just a jealous superfan who has simply run out of pins for my Jessica Simpson & Jennifer Aniston voodoo dolls. And while that may be true, it's more than that. I guess I just miss that loco side of John Mayer, who used to do shit like this:
Or that time he had a hilarious TV show. That was really the height of fat John Mayer. He was funny, a little off, and definitely not a Hollywood sell-out.
Sure, the music's getting better and better. I am already boning over the samples of his new CD that he's slowly putting up on his blog. And I will probably feel really lame about writing this later.
But just because you get skinny and stuff, doesn't mean you have to become a tool. Wise up, John. Really.
But, luckily for John, this doesn't mean I'll stop throwing my panties up on stage at his concerts. I want you, baby. And so do my Spanx...
PEREZ HILTON -- WATCH YOUR SHIT. I'M COMING FOR YOUUUUUU!