Tag: Pop Culture

Valentine’s Day is Stupid

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There, I said it! Now, I know that for some people that statement will make you assume that I am a bitter, cynical wildebeest of a person who isn’t capable of feeling love or any other human emotions (You aren’t entirely off base. I’m somewhat emotionally hollow, and after a few carbohydrates can bear a striking resemblance to wildebeests, or really any other creature in the buffalo-ish family). The thing is, I don’t think love is stupid at all, I think it’s beautiful, wonderful, and am fortunate to have a lot of it in my life. I didn’t always feel this way about Valentine’s Day. I used to be pretty indifferent about it, but then Instagram influencers became a thing and suddenly I found myself loathing a whole lot of things I used to not care about at all.

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I’ve started doing something that’s probably not that great for me, and I call that thing “hate reading.” Meaning, I go to the social media accounts of those I loathe and look at all the absolutely terrible things they do and say (also, if you say you never do this, you’re probably, and by probably I mean, definitely a huge liar). This morning, I got up, got some work done, smiled at all the cute photos of significant others and babies people I actually like in real life were posting, reminisced about my favorite gifts of V-Days past (6th grade, my mom got me a t-shirt from Abercrombie and a bottle of what would become my signature scent until 10th grade, Tommy Girl), laughed at a few memes, and consumed way too much coffee, a good, pretty standard Wednesday morning for me, that is until Instagram’s algorithm decided that for, whatever reason, I deserved to suffer.

An “Influencer” I make a very express point of not following, for the sake of my own mental health, had posted a series of photos with her “lover” (Unless you’re Will Ferrel and/or Rachel Dratch, let’s never use this word again, thanks) where they were oh so candidly indulging in unhealthy food (which of course, was nowhere near her actual mouth), with an attached post so badly written (as the person who writes the posts on this blog, I think you can all agree that if I post what I do with some semblance of confidence, and call someone else’s writing terrible, it’s pretty bad). So, I get to the end of this millennial manifesto of a blog post (but not before rolling my eyes, audibly groaning, and saying “calm it down, Rupi Kaur” several times under my breath), and see that the whole thing is literally sponsored by a brand.  I promptly fight the urge to cloak myself in all black, and skulk around New York City informing everyone that love is dead.

Look, I’m not trying to burst anyone’s heart shaped bubble here, but if we’ve gotten to the point where a day that is (allegedly) supposed to be about celebrating the love in our life is just another day where I must suffer through your horribly written, incredibly staged #SponsoredContent and watch other people consume it like it’s some sort of aspirational thing, please, get Valentine’s Day as far away from me as possible. As far as my plans for tonight that you absolutely had no intention of asking about? I’m attending a Soul Cycle class, coming home to indulge in a ridiculously overpriced skincare regimen, and go to bed, as I always do, fervently praying that I never have to see someone use the hashtag #InstaGood ever again.

 

 

 

What Happened to My Wig? Melodrama Happened.

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My hiatus from this blog has been long, and I’d apologize if I thought anyone gave even one iota of what the kids call, “a shit.” I could give a whole laundry list of excuses as to why, but really, at the end of the day, it really just boils down to the broad umbrella of “adulthood.” So, what could’ve possibly had the power to draw me out of hiatus? Lorde’s sophomore album, Melodrama, that’s what.

I don’t think I’ll quite every to be able to “fully process” the absolute wigging, I mean the actual SNATCHING of my hair straight down to the follicles that Ella Marija Lani Yelich-O’Connor (nope, you didn’t just have a stroke, that’s her full name!) aka Lorde aka supreme of the pop girl coven aka the alt queen aka a young, brunette Stevie Nicks delivered to me via Melodrama, but, there isn’t any time like the present to give the track by track breakdown of this album that exactly nobody asked for, so, *cracks knuckles,* let’s get into it, shall we?

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  1. Green Light- An absolute BOP. It’s one of those songs that when I’m elderly and slightly tipsy at a cookout, will start to play and I’ll stand my arthritic ass up as I look at my grandchildren and start to do some terribly caucasian geriatric dance and say “now what ya’ll know about this?! Ya’ll don’t know nothing about this!”
  2. Sober- The beginning of this song serves up some dim-lit bad college poetry reading bongo drum vibes, but then, out of nowhere, some sort of animal and/or Jack Antonoff starts screeching at me and all of the sudden I’m all “OKAY LORDE! QUEEN OF THE WEEKEND AND NOT BEING SOBER F&*$ IT UP SIS!” And that change in the beat at 2:35? I’m sorry, I think I just legitimately went bald. Conclusion? I’ll sway/go astray with Lorde straight to hell, run and tell THAT!
  3. Homemade Dynamite- When I say that I dropped it so low when the beat came in as she said “So let’s let things come out of the woodwork” I actually mean that my flat, white ass was on the floor convulsing and simultaneously googling how to make explosives (not really, calm your tits, NSA). A fun fact, “I’ll give you my best side, tell you all my best lies” is what I say to my co-workers on Thursday nights when I’m trying to convince them I won’t be coming into the office hungover the next day.
  4. The Louvre-*does whatever broadcasting the boom boom boom boom is while simultaneously dancing/weeping*
  5. Liability-Gay. This song is completely gay. This song is so gay that Mike Pence wants to send it to conversion therapy. Don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t. How is Lorde going to go home to the arms of the girl that she loves if that girl is her own damn self? Are her arms the length of octopus tentacles? Next heterosexual, nonsensical excuse, Ella.
  6. Hard Feelings/Loveless-Lorde clearly has been following me around/wire tapped my phones/put cameras in my house because there isn’t any other plausible explanation for how ~*relatable*~ this song is in terms of every emotion I’ve ever felt/will feel about certain exes.
  7. Sober II (Melodrama)-Starts off as a nice AHS: Coven style lullaby of sorts, ends with me wanting to go out and HEAUX around. Iconic.
  8. Writer in the Dark-Lorde essentially threatens to completely END a man using nothing but her talents, but also manages to be somewhat both condescending and patronizing. There are not adequate words to describe how 1000% HERE I am for this entire scenario.
  9. Supercut-*see thoughts on Hard Feelings/Loveless*
  10. Liability (Reprise)-This song is so gay there’s a few places in the midwest that won’t even serve it pizza (Reprise).
  11. Perfect Places-Song of the summer. Song of the year. Song of the millennium. Everyone else can go home and stay there.

In conclusion, I hope that anyone who hasn’t yet given this future Album of the Year Grammy snatching masterpiece a listen, does so immediately. You’ll dance, you’ll cry, you’ll want to run off to New Zealand and petition for Lorde to legally adopt you. No on that last bit? That’s just me? I’m okay with that.

The Salvation That The World Ignored..

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Don’t worry, the title of this post is definitely not indicative of me writing about anything remotely serious, but make no mistake that what I’m writing about is very important. On June 24, 2015 the Savior of Pop Music, and Canada’s greatest gift to mankind, Carlegendary Slay Jepsaint, known more commonly as Carly Rae Jepsen released her third studio album “E*Mo*Tion.” It was the album that pop music needed, but almost immediately it became clear that it was in no way deserved. Instead of getting behind this 15 track pop tour de force, the world instead allowed people like pastel colored queen of white nonsense Mastodon Trainwreck, known more commonly as Meghan Trainor to slither up the charts. Unforgivable. I, however, won’t continue to stay silent, so naturally, I’m providing you, my (two) readers (Sup? Mom and Dad) with a breakdown/review of my top 4 tracks on this masterpiece.

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  1. Run Away With Me: There has not been a dramatic song intro so critical and culturally relevant since the Zulu chant that preceded “The Circle of Life” at the beginning of The Lion King. If the iconic horns at the beginning of this song don’t make the hair of the back of your neck stand up, you’re either hairless, or deaf. 1000/10 would die for this bop.
  2. E*MO*TION: This song is some type of power b$%&@ anthem. She opens the first verse with “be tormented by me babe” and then commands the (I can only assume) weak man she’s singing to/about to “drink tequila for me babe.” Like OKAY sis! Torment his ass! Haze him with cheap tequila shots! This song is essentially about tricking a man into becoming emotionally vulnerable through torment and liquor, then making him talk about his feelings. Legendary.
  3. Let’s Get Lost: YASSSSS HONEY! LET’S GET LOST! F@#& GOOGLE MAPS! QUEEN OF THE LONG WAY HOME! When the beat dropped in this song I was immediately cleansed of sin, my crops provided a plentiful harvest, and my student loans were paid off in their entirety.*
  4. LA Hallucinations: Honestly there isn’t a song lyric I have found more profound or iconic than “BuzzFeed buzzards and TMZ crows..” Queen of words, metaphors, and imagery.

As IF the gift of this underrated magnum opus wasn’t enough, to celebrate it’s 1 year anniversary, her holiness Carly Rae blessed us with Side B of “E*Mo*Tion” as well. I don’t think I’ll ever quite fully recover from the injustice that is the world widely ignoring what could’ve been the savior of pop music in favor of songs from the human equivalent of stale cotton candy (again, Meghan Trainor) and Charlie Puth’s weird, half shaved, tragic eyebrow. Now, go atone for your sins and #BuyEmotionOniTunes.

*a slight exaggeration

I Find Your Triggers Triggering..

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As a *shudder* Millenial, I know that I should probably “get” the whole concept of “triggers” more than I actually do, but my confusion isn’t completely shocking considering I have, in many respects, the personality of an irritable, 90 year old woman. While I completely understand and recognize the existence of things, situations, etc that are legitimately triggering for some individuals, I have some trouble wrapping my brain around some of the things that a lot of people my age (looking at you, fellow white, privileged, upper middle class twenty-somethings) say “trigger” them. Call me insensitive (you wouldn’t be the first to do so,and I’m certain you won’t be the last), but I just have no sympathy for people that claim they are now “triggered” by mundane things like ice cream because when they were 10, they dropped theirs and it upset them.  That all being said, it would be very out of character for me to pass up the opportunity to complain, so, I’ve decided to compile a list* of things that I personally find to be “triggering.”

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  • Excessive amounts of condiments (if it’s mayonnaise I am twice as triggered)
  • “Vaping”
  • Anything related/having to do with “The Minions”
  • Stray, unidentifiable hairs. This probably stems from the time my mom and I were trapped in a Wyoming Days Inn because of a snow storm, and I found a short, curly hair in my bed, and then another, and another. A scene straight out of the classic fairy tale, “The Princess and The Pube..”
  • People who use the word “squad” and the phrase “squad goals”
  • Anne Coulter
  • Grown adults who put unecessary “-ers” at the end of words. Particularly triggering example? “Yummers”
  • The Bravo series “Gallery Girls” only lasting one season
  • People saying that Beyonce is “overrated”
  • Actual white feminist bridge troll Lena Dunham
  • People who think Lena Dunham is a decent human being
  • The word “journey” when it’s being used to describe anything to do with fashion, or some metaphorical “Eat, Pray, Love” bullshit
  • Speaking of “Eat, Pray, Love” I find Julia Roberts laugh/general existence incredibly triggering.
  • Middle aged women who are really into the “Fifty Shades of Grey” franchise
  • Mouth breathers

*not a complete list

The 5 Facebook Friends You Definitely Have..

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At this point, I’m not really sure why I still have Facebook at all to be honest, considering I almost exclusively use it to look at pictures of myself from high school to remember that it can always be (and definitely was) worse, watch political/social justice arguments unfold, and get meager amounts of validation from my parents. Other than that, I just keep my account out of habit, and to attempt to balance out the human garbage persona I’ve built for myself on Twitter. That being said, I’ve noticed that a lot of my Facebook friends fall into five categories, and whether you want to admit it or not, yours probably do too. So, if you’re willing to endure this BuzzFeed-esque listicle, you can find out exactly what these five types of friends are, and all the reasons they annoy the absolute shit out of me (don’t even, you knew that was going to be a part of this).

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  1. The Political Expert: Equally annoying whether they’re coming from either side, and generally very easily provoked. More than likely this is either a distant relative, or somebody you went to high school with and haven’t seen since (bonus points if it’s the parent of somebody you went to high school with). They are always right, and tend to be about as reasonable as a toddler who is being weened off of their pacifier. Usually only come out of the woodwork during an election year, or during national tragedies.
  2. The VagueBooker: There’s ALWAYS something monumentally tragic going on in the VagueBooker’s life, at least, by their own definition. Very rarely does the VagueBooker have something actually tragic occurring, such as a death in the family, loss of a job, illness, etc. the more than likely  scenario is that they have been, at best, temporarily and minorly inconvenienced. The VagueBooker really chaps my ass because they always just post things like “Really going through it right now, send good vibes please” and “Prayers” without any details (I would imagine that’s due to the fact that what they’re usually “going through” can fall into the category of “first world problems”). I get that some things are personal, but if it’s that personal, why are you posting about it on the internet at all? What is the return on my “good vibes” and “prayers” investment? There’s no such thing as a free lunch, you’re going to have to give me some details.
  3. The Oversharer: The Oversharer is the ANTITHESIS of the VagueBooker, but equally as irritating. The Oversharer tends to do things like “check in” at the doctor and find it necessary to let you know their getting a colonoscopy, post statuses like “SO DONE” that are followed up with an over detailed description of a very personal fight they’ve had with their spouse, etc. If the Oversharer in your life has children, you probably (unwillingly) know how many shits said children have taken this week.
  4. The Pedestrian: Has the overwhelming compulsion to post a new status anytime they literally do anything. You know what this person is doing every step of the way, and by noon, you are aware that they have “grabbed coffee” (and where they grabbed it), filled up their tank with gas (and what music they were listening to on the way to the gas station), and arrived at their desk (and, if you’re anything like me, rolled your eyes at their accompanying “on my grind” hashtag). The Pedestrian either doesn’t know Twitter exists, or is older and is overwhelmed by the prospect of taking on another Social Media channel (don’t worry, they’ll probably get one 3 years from now). Fun fact, my mom got a Twitter before I did and I mocked her by saying “Who the f$%& would want a social network that was just a constant stream of Facebook statuses?” the joke was definitely on me.
  5. The Wine Mom: BIG fan of inspirational quotes, puns, and slightly naughty/sassy references to their spouse, kids, and of course, wine. They joke with their friends about things like bringing White Zinfandel (which they probably refer to as “white zin”) to playdates, and love posting pictures of wine with captions like “I drink wine because the doctor said I shouldn’t keep things bottled up!” The wine mom is generally harmless, and much like your actual mother doesn’t really bug you unless she goes off on some sort of preachy tangent.

I guess I just yearn for the days when Facebook was simpler, and I had to create a fake college email as a high school freshman to be able to join. Instead, I’m now living in a time where someone was able to share a post from “Minions Quotes” that was then able to find it’s way int0 my newsfeed (without any sort of trigger warning), and, quite frankly, after that, all I really have to say is, I’ll see you in Hell, Mark  Zuckerberg.

 

Flashback Friday: The Suspect Wore Louboutins

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If you’ve had even the most minimal of interactions with me, you are probably aware of my affinity and love for all things reality television. When I say reality television, I don’t mean “I enjoy Top Chef and The Amazing Race,” no, I mean “I can recite Teresa Giudice’s entire monologue from the iconic Danielle Staub provoked table flip scene from Real Housewives of New Jersey.” Unfortunately, when your love for trash runs as deeply as mine, you’re often faced with the devastating predicament of the shows you’re so fond of only lasting 1-2 seasons. It happened with MTV’s “Fat Camp,” and then again with Bravo’s “NYC Prep” and “Gallery Girls,” but none of these shows were, for me, gone too soon as E!’s “Pretty Wild.”

The show followed the Neiers sisters, Tess (who is actually adopted, her last name is Taylor), Alexis, Gabby, and their mother Andrea, who in my opinion, was the breakout star of this series’ one magical season. The two older girls are both “pursuing modeling careers” which back in 2010 I rolled my eyes at, but hey, Kendall Jenner is on the cover of the September Issue of VOGUE, so, anything is possible I guess. Gabby honestly wasn’t that memorable,  mostly because she didn’t get in trouble, and the biggest drama surrounding her was her decision to stop being homeschooled and start attending public high school. Yawn.

I feel like it’s important to note that the girl’s mother centered her homeschool curriculum (I use the words “school” and “curriculum” VERY loosely here) around the book, “The Secret.” If you’re unfamiliar, “The Secret” is a self help book (based on a movie, so, you know, completely credible) and the premise is basically that you get back whatever type of “energy” you put into the world. For context, let’s just say if I had to guess, Spencer Pratt was probably super into this book during his “crystals” phase. She also wakes the girls up by screeching “GIRLS! IT’S TIME FOR YOUR ADDERALL!” she’s literally Amy Poehler’s character in ‘Mean Girls’ brought to life.

The drama came to a peak (this is like episode 2-3 by the way) when the LAPD showed up at their house, demanded Andrea “contain her dogs” (aka like 4 unidentifiable toy dogs; this was mid 2000s Los Angeles after all) and asked that the cameras be shut off. We find out later that she was a part of the “Bling Ring” aka the group that stole from Orlando Bloom, Audrina Patridge, and most notably, Paris Hilton. Naturally, Andrea and the other girls act like Alexis has been unjustly detained and spend hours hysterically crying outside the LA County Jail. Eventually Nelson Mandela, I mean, Alexis, is released and they all weep, hug, and have one of their bullshit energy prayer circles or whatever.

Now, let’s get to the most iconic part of the entire series aka the Nancy Jo Sales phone call. Alexis is PUMPED because she’s approached by Nancy Jo about doing an interview about all the Bling Ring legal drama for Vanity Fair. She’s all giddy and excited because (allegedly) Nancy Jo gives off the impression that the article is going to paint Alexis in a positive light, redeem her, show that she was just a victim of falling in with bad friends, blah blah. Spoiler Alert! The article doesn’t even do that a little bit, like nowhere close, literally could not even be interpreted that way. Naturally, the whole fam gathers to confront NJ over the phone,  they get her voicemail, and proceed to make several attempts to leave her a scathing message, but between Alexis’s cry-talking/screaming and Andrea intermittently, randomly yelling “YOU LIED!” into the phone, I’m not sure if they ever succeeded to be honest.

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It wasn’t until Kimberly Noel Kardashian-West exposed Taylor Swift in July 2016 via Snapchat that I’ve been so invested in a piece of investigatory journalism as I was Nancy Jo’s Vanity Fair article. Honestly I don’t think I’ll ever be completely over the fact that the show that partially inspired “The Bling Ring” only got one season,  but, I suppose that when you strike reality television gold within the first season, it’s sometimes best to just cash out and go home (or, as the case may be, to Paris Hilton’s house). I’m not completely sure what the Neiers sisters and mother of the century Andre are up to these days, but I imagine that they’re probably in a West Hollywood bar somewhere, talking about how Alexis helped to launch Emma Watson’s career or something equally ridiculous.

Oops!…I Did It Again

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Before the one person that actually checks to see if I’ve updated this blog (Hi Mom!) tries to come for my wig over the lack of posting, let me plead my case, as there are several legitimate (at least in my eyes) reasons why I stopped writing here. (Sadly, none of them involve fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a C-List celebrity that has been hospitalized for “exhaustion” and/or “personal issues”).

  1. Work. Can you believe that actually performing well at work requires time and effort? The tiny entitled, insufferable Millenial that lives inside me finds this astoundingly disrespectful and rude, but real life me mostly finds it exhausting. Honestly, once my day is over I have little energy to do much more than order Seamless and watch half a Law and Order: SVU episode before passing out face down in whatever packaging my food came wrapped in.
  2. On April 23, 2016, Beyonce Giselle Knowles-Carter Dropped Her Visual Album “Lemonade.” No explanation necessary, as I can only assume that everyone else reading this was also left as bald headed/temporarily robbed of their fine motor skills as I was.
  3. Calvin Harris blocked me on Twitter, so I obviously had to find time to adjust to my status as a professional A-List Celebrity Shit Poster. Following the release of the totally organic not at all staged photos of Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston canoodling on a Rhode Island beach (which somehow managed to look more like photos of a man taking his aging nana to the shore than anything romantic) a mere 2 weeks after her breakup with Calvin, I tweeted the World’s Highest Paid DJ the following..Screen Shot 2016-07-16 at 2.24.27 PMScreen Shot 2016-07-16 at 2.24.15 PM Screen Shot 2016-07-16 at 2.32.41 PM
  4. I HAD AN IDENTITY CRISIS OKAY?! 

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For awhile I ignored this blog because I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to write about, and while I totally recognize that this blog was always destined to be a bit of a clusterf%#$ I still wanted to have some sort of consistency theme wise. Now that I have that a bit more narrowed down, I’ll be having you all saying “WTF? Why is Grace like this?!” a lot more often..

So, in conclusion, I will be more consistent with posting about the things I’m truly passionate about (ie: commenting on CeLeBriTy dRaMa, reality television, early/mid-2000’s pop culture, and bitching about all the weird things that annoy me). I promise, and not in a “Scott Disick promising for the millionth time he’s going to sober up” kind of way, but like, actually.

TBT: RHOC Season One

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Close your eyes and take a journey with me, no, not some awful breakup induced spiritual journey, but one back to the year 2005. A lot went down in ’05; Brangelina was born, Dina and Michael Lohan finally got divorced, and Prince Harry went to a Halloween party casually dressed as a Nazi.

Perhaps the most monumental event of 2005 came when Bravo/Andy Cohen bestowed upon us perhaps the greatest blessing in reality television history, known to most plebeians as The Real Housewives franchise. As soon as the gates to Coto de Caza opened, I was hooked (and wondering when the f%$& Kirsten Cohen was going to show up). I don’t know why I was so enthralled with these women, after all, they were old as s@#^ and didn’t really “do” anything, but something about the fact that they fought like Middle Schoolers really grabbed me.

On a recent Saturday, when I was operating at what I like to refer as a “diminished capacity” and had no plans to move anytime soon, so I decided to watch RHOC from the beginning, please don’t ask me why. Not two seconds into the intro and I found myself saying “What the actual Hell?” Who had dressed these women? Someone had to pay for all the ill fitting tops and flare jeans I was seeing, justice had to be served. Not long after, I fell asleep face down in a Taco Bell Crunchwrap Supreme wrapper and forgot all about it, until now. So in honor of #ThrowbackThursday I’m going to dissect the outfits the women of S1 wore in their intro, because first impressions are everything (which means I’m screwed, but whatever).

Vicki: As much as I’d love to cut Vicki some slack for entertaining me with her bat shit crazy antics in later seasons, I just can’t. This is mostly due to the fact that I would feel less threatened by someone trying to rob me at knife point then I do by her impending camel toe. Also, I don’t understand her top, and I won’t respond to it.

Jo: There isn’t much I can say about Jo in this get up, it did however serve as a nice reminder that she wasn’t always a human Bratz Doll.

Lauri: Lauri is the type of woman who goes into Forever 21 with her teenage daughter, and ends up only buying things for herself. No explanation necessary.

Jeana: Clearly Jeana thought that some weird, dream catcher statement necklace would make us forget that she has the worst bangs in the history of bangdom (actually,wait, that might be me circa 1995-2003). Bangs and atrocious necklace aside, the cap sleeves on her top make me so nervous I feel like I might pee myself when I see them.

Kimberly: I know, who the hell is Kimberly? She only survived one season, probably because she was so boring/irrelevant, but judging from her leopard print top, it could be she just ran off to join The Cheetah Girls.

As much as the OC Housewives and I have grown apart over the years thanks to more interesting cast members from other places (ie: Kim Richards, Milania Giudice, and Kelly Bensimon) I will be forever in their debt for letting Bravo film them throwing wine on each other, thus paving the way for the Beverly Hills, Atlanta, New Jersey, and New York housewives, and though their outfits circa S1 may make me cringe, I’ll always think of them when I hear the line “I’m not like, a regular mom, I’m a cool mom!”

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I’ve known I wanted to start blogging for awhile, not about anything in particular, but I suppose if I was forced to describe my personal brand it would be a hybrid lifestyle blog full of cynicism, delusions of grandeur, an ever so light sprinkling of sarcasm, and more than likely an overabundance of reality television/pop culture references.

I feel like those elements make the above picture a perfect introduction. That dime piece holding the parasol? That’s me circa 1998, having just participated in a Parisian themed ballet recital. Anyone who’s ever seen Dance Moms will clearly be able to see that I’m more of an Abby Lee Miller than a Maddie Ziegler, and anyone with eyes, Dance Moms savant or not, can see that ballet probably wasn’t my “thing.”

Yet despite the fact that my dancing showed about as much promise as your aunt’s drunken performance to FloRida’s “Low” at your Bat Mitzvah, I took it until I was 17, because I’m convinced my parents had children so they would have free, albeit terrible entertainment.

Honestly, Twitter is my usual platform for spewing my nonsensical ramblings about the Real Housewives franchise, avocados, my short lived (yet somehow way too long) career as a ballerina, other people’s fashion choices, and a whole bunch of other random absurdities. Twitter cages me in though, at 140 characters I can’t really say everything I want to say about these very important topics, and like Miley Cyrus, I can’t be tamed.

I’d close this out with something like “So come on this journey with me..” but the word “journey” is way too “Eat, Pray, Love” and Julia Roberts is the worst, so instead I’ll leave you with some immortal words from the one and only NeNe Leakes.. “Bye Wig!”