Category: I Will For Sure Be Getting Complaints About This

  First of all, if you subscribe to the Feedburner feed, I know it sent you a post from the other blog yesterday, and I'm sorry.  I told it not to, ok?    Sometimes Feedburner just has a mind of its own, and what the hell?   Maybe that post reminded you to sign up for a Health Savings Account at work.  So, no need to email me.

This hilarious photo is of Shane McGowan from The Pogues, who I think might go down in history as being the Ugliest Person Alive.  He has no teeth because of drugs, and he doesn't care.   Having no teeth and being so ugly makes it easier for him to just go ahead and be a junkie, perhaps.  And, in case you're thinking this– yes, I believe this is what Pete Doherty from Babyshambles is going to look like in ten years.  Or maybe Amy Winehouse.

Anyhoo, I included this picture because sometimes, this is what my surly Irish temper feels like, and I am compelled to yell at total strangers.  You see, despite constant evidence to the contrary, I am an ardent believer in the continued civility of human beings, and
since I couple this belief with a "change starts with you" mentality, I am often
the one who will take action when other people are scratching their heads or
trying to just learn to live with the problem, or burying their head in the
sand.  To me, there is nothing sicker than looking the other way when you could
make a difference by doing or saying something, and I am 100 percent sure that
not talking about the problem is not going to make it go away, and I don't care
if this makes me unpopular.    I would give you some examples of societies and
situations that fell into disarray because of people"s general unwillingness to
leave their comfort zones and speak up, but I am sure you can fill in the blanks
for yourself.  Maybe you'll disagree and if you do that's totally fine, but I
actually think there's a rather short distance between general civil disregard
and all-out anarchy.  So, let's just start there.

You might have already
come to the conclusion that this has gotten me labeled a "total bitch" on more
than one occasion, which I'm fine with.   Because I have no problem telling a
customer service person "You need to be nicer," or yelling at a guy who is
letting his dog do the poop and run in front of my building, or telling people
point-blank that they are talking way too loud on their cellphones, and that
they should not be discussing confidential legal cases or their uncle's
colonoscopy while they're in public places like the Acela train or the post
office.   I will also yell at a person who lets their off-leash dog run up to my
dog on the street (though, let's be honest, my yelling is going to be nothing
compared to the pain and regret that idiot is going to feel when their poor dog
is run over by a car on my busy Brentwood street, or bites a child, or kills
another dog.  Not even close).

My single-handed effort to hold
the fabric of society together can often also be observed in crosswalks, where I
have no problem yelling at people or kicking their bumpers when they roll
through and almost run over me and my dog.  You see, there are a lot of rude
people in L.A, and if someone doesn't say something to them, one day something
worse might happen, or at least this is what I'm thinking when the yelling starts.  

Here's a good example– I was out walking the dog one night and
seriously came withing two inches of getting hit by a woman in a minivan who was
not looking at all as she pulled around the corner.  Because I was close enough to be able to slap the side of her car,
I did, so she pulled over to see if she hit me, at which time I wrote her
license number down and told her I was going home to call the police and report
her as an unsafe driver.  Was I yelling during this time?  Yes, I was.

You're rolling your eyes now and thinking I
should lighten up, but guess what?  She started crying, and told me that she
needed to do something, because her husband had Alzheimer's and she couldn't see
and wasn't supposed to drive at night, and that she'd almost lost her license
before, and that she actually was afraid that she was going to hit someone.   I
don't know if she  got someone to help her after this, but I like to imagine
that almost hitting me and my subsequent yelling was just the impetus she needed to finally arrange for
some alternate transportation, but this is my point– what if I didn't yell at her and push her out of her comfort zone, and the next time she hit a kid?  I take laws and
stuff really seriously, because they are what hold society together, and when
people get lazy and complacent, it makes me upset.  Not because it's bothering
me personally, but because I honestly believe that if we don't take it upon
ourselves to be our best, eventually, as Schopenhauer pointed out, we will start
to descend back into being animals.  Because really, what is a red light but a
mere box with a light in it, unless we all agree to stop when we see
it? 

Maybe it amuses you to consider the mental picture of me
yelling at an a-hole fratboy while he is talking on a cellphone and his dog is
pooping and he clearly has no bag and no intention of picking it up.  And maybe
my making you laugh will have helped the world in a whole different way.  Who knows?  I just want people to stop almost running me over and letting their dogs crap in front of my building.  Is that too much to ask? 

I also would like to take this moment to mention that, just one month ago, my father and I had a conversation where we discussed how much we like calling bullshit on lazy people. 

This post has been delayed for awhile, due to my inability
to create a chart that’s appropriately funny to support the concept. Oh, and before you start reading, this is
DEFINITELY going to be a post that will either make you laugh, or make you go
right over to my MySpace page to send me a nasty message. I’m looking at you, Gloria Steinam. That said, it’s all for funny—just another
one of those random things that starts out as a comment someone makes or something I overhear, then ends up something I think about and bring up at dinner parties and expand upon until it has enough “meat” for a long post.

Also, if you’re a woman who’s in the professional world, or
a stay-at-home mom (a job that is about 1,000 times HARDER than working in an
office, from what I understand), you are not going to see yourself on the list, because this post is all just about women who, despite the women’s
movement, women’s rights, etc, are still choosing to sell themselves, and
therefore making the rest of us look bad.

Ok, here goes.

The Video Girl Continuum

A couple of months ago, I was sitting behind these two girls at a show I was
covering for Fashion Week here in LA. They were obviously stylists (they had that look), and were having what
turned out to be a hilariously snarky conversation about a certain celebrity
that they’d both worked for, but that didn’t like (let’s call her April). Here’s about how the conversation went:

Stylist A: “…..such a bitch. I mean, not even civil. Made me drive all over town to find a leopard
sarong that didn’t even make the cut for the shoot.”

Stylist B: “…I know! She did the same thing to me. I had to go out and get her a latte at
4:00. 4:00, dude. In LA. Prime stuck in traffic time.”

Stylist A: “It’s such
bullshit….everyone knows she’s just a video girl who got lucky and f*&^d
her way to the top.”

This is when, being myself and being curious, I lean over
and go “Excuse me….what’s a video girl?” They were extremely accommodating, explaining that a video girl is a
girl who is not tall enough or pretty enough to model, and not quite a good
enough dancer to actually DANCE in a video, but who is just shameless enough to
be one of those girls by the pool in a rap video, shaking her ass in slow
motion and letting Jay Z put his hands on her boobs. Video Girl.

This got me thinking – to a certain extent, if you’re a
woman and you’re not on the professional track or raising kids, you’re probably
doing some level of this. I’m not going
to try to account for the logic of this—maybe you were the prettiest girl in
your high school and never went to college. Maybe you’re accustomed to getting things for free, so when someone
tells you that you actually have to get up every day and go to work, you go
“Um…..no. I’m going to explore other
alternatives.” And, because there is
still some level of patriarchal dominance in society, this means that there are
still some women who are still selling themselves—now it just depends on the
price.

Crack Ho: Sells her body, just to get
more crack. The lowest on the spectrum,
because she’s basically just treading water until the inevitable crack
overdose.  A closed cycle of
prostitution, if you will.  Here is a crack ho Barbie I found on Google images:

 

Streetwalker: Walks
the street, gives most of her money to her pimp, but maybe she has a heart of
gold, or big dreams, like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. Because really, so many of them do.

 

Porn Star: Yeah, yeah, they “get paid to
have fun and do what people do anyway,” or they’re “just using porn as a
stepping stone to get their film career started.” These are the lines they use so they don’t
want to kill themselves every day, anyway. As far as I can tell, they’re having sex, on film, and they know that
men are the primary audience for the product that makes them all the money.
So…..there you go. I’m not saying that
Jenna Jameson isn’t a gazillioniare with her own management team at a Big Five
agency that I’m not supposed to name, but she’s the ONE exception to the
thousands of girls who do this every day. Even Traci Lords—still known for
porn, dude.

Paid Escort: This is
the girl who shows up when you call the concierge at the hotel, or respond to
the late night tv commercial advertising “dates.” This is definitely a girl who has always been
so pretty, she’s gotten away with everything, has never paid a parking ticket,
and who could easily go out to dinner with a studio executive. In fact, I was having dinner with my lawyer
friend B. at the Ivy by the Shore, developing these very ideas, we saw a
really, really gorgeous Asian woman who was out at dinner with a very old
man. Since there wasn’t any obvious
conversation going on (like, at all), and since she was cutting his meat for
him, and she had on a very low-cut dress. So—you be the judge. I’m positive
she wasn’t his daughter, just back from Harvard for dinner.

Stripper: Since most
of these girls will tell you they’re just working at Jumbo’s Clown Room to pay
for their Sociology degree, I’m putting them above the paid escort. In my estimation, though, simulating sex for
money gets you just about the same placement on the chart.

Las Vegas-type showgirl: Not just a stripper. A dancer who also shows her boobs.

Paid Girlfriend: This
is the girl who lived in my building in

New
York

, who was the girlfriend of a prominent
businessman. Basically, he set her up,
paid all her expenses, and stayed the night a few times a week. She seemed to divide the rest of her time
between working out, shopping, and going out on “auditions.” Someone else in the building also said that
they thought they’d seen her in porn, so maybe she got promoted up the chain at
some point. I don’t believe the paid
girlfriend goes out in public with you (at least not on your wife’s side of
town), but for a girl with a good body and zero professional ambitions, this
seems like a pretty sweet gig. Not that
I would be somebody’s paid girlfriend, but you know what I’m saying.

Model: Mostly I mean “model who is
willing to do just a little too much to be successful,” like appear in
provocative swimsuit ads, and/ or Playboy, or Hustler, or whatever. We’re going to hope they’re investing this
money, because once a model is 30, unless she’s Elle McPherson, she’s done.

Actress: Mostly I
just mention this because, as well as know, there is a certain age past which
it’s tough to get acting jobs. So, you
see a lot of actress-types in their teens, twenties, and thirties, who either
“make it,” or have to find a guy to settle down with. I’m including the actress in the chart
because some of them are actually desperate to go out with Phil Spector, even
though his parents were first cousins and he’s known for chasing women around
with guns, just to possibly get roles in films. And, to my knowledge, Phil Spector doesn’t even make films. You see what I’m saying.

Rich Guy’s Wife. I don’t mean “stay at
home mom,” or “equal breadwinner,” because like I said, those women don’t
appear on the continuum. I mean “woman with a stockbroker or movie producer
husband, may or may not have a kid, who doesn’t work and also has a full time
nanny,” or “woman who stays home all day and still needs a personal assistant
and tells you how busy she is all the time.” Like, what are they doing? Charity work cannot take up that much time. Examples: Those Orange

County

 

Housewives

. Many of my neighbors in

New York

. Some of my neighbors in

Santa
Monica

. Karen from Will & Grace.

Old Rich Guy’s Wife. I’m talking about
Anna Nicole Smith right here. Also
known as “goldigger.” I’m not saying
Anna Nicole Smith didn’t love that guy, but come ON. I might put “The Girls Next Door” girls in
this category as well, cross-referencing them with “paid girlfriend.” Oh, she’s earning that money all right—one
Viagra at a time.

Rich Guy’s Ex-Wife. Hopefully with a
divorce settlement so big that they don’t have to work anymore, because you can
DEFINITELY not start the continuum over when you’re 50 years old. Nope. Examples: Diandra Douglas
(replaced by Catherine Zeta-Jones), Nicole Kidman (replaced by my best friend
Katie Holmes), Robin Williams’ first wife (replaced by the nanny—ouch). I prefer not to use the term “Starter Wife,”
because in my mind a starter wife is just your first wife and doesn’t
necessarily get rich in the divorce, but if YOU’D like this to be the “Starter
Wife” category, then ok.

Rich Guy’s Widow.  The
motherlode of the video girl continuum—truly the end of the marathon,
especially if, like Anna Nicole Smith, you advanced from “Old Rich Guy’s Wife”
to “Rich Guy’s Widow” while still under 30, and were married for less
than three years, and UNLIKE Anna Nicole Smith, actually collect the money.

If you fall into this category, unless you end up in court like Anna Nicole Smith, you’re still young, you
never have to work again, and you have your pick of eligible guys. Of course, most of this guys are on the “male
model continuum,” meaning they are looking for someone to take care of
them. But, you’ve got your health, a
gazillion dollars, and access to the best plastic surgeons, so you’ll be just
fine. Even better if the situation isn’t
complicated by ex-wives and their children.

Examples: Courtney
Love, if she wasn’t quite so insane. Yoko One, if she wasn’t quite so Yoko Ono.  Also
known as “Cougar.”

There will certainly be more additions to this list, as I think of them.  Just wanted to put something out there for Monday!  I’m working on one for guys.

I know, jobs are hard to come by, and we should all be grateful for the gainful employment that we have.  But for the record, here is a list of jobs I would never do, even if the money were outstanding. 

1.  Tow Yard Attendant.  Everyone you help is always mad, 100% of the time. This is why they make you work behind bullet proof glass.

2.  Correctional facility nurse.  Good….GOD.  The horror of your every day work situation.  These people are freaking saints, in my opinion.  "Nurse, I’ve got this sore," takes on a whole new meaning.

3.  Meter Maid.  You drive around in a little golf cart, ruining people’s days and probably racking up bad karma points to boot.  Oh, and if the person happens to be there, then you also get to fight with them.  This happens, say, 50 times a day. 

4.  Flight attendant.  Some people really love this job, and I’m glad, because I consider flying one of those unpleasant things I have to do in order to get to the things I really want to do.  Keep your free travel, I say.  Flying is scary.

5.  Roto-rooter person.  Yes, I knoew, they make really good money, and everyone always needs one of these, but I just wouldn’t want to be on call at 3 am to go unstop someone’s doo-doo filled toilet, ok?  I just wouldn’t.

6.  Monkey handler at the zoo. Again, some people love this job, so don’t email me if you’re from the National Association of Monkey Handlers.  But man, monkeys through poo when they get upset, which I bet they are all the time when they’re locked in a cage for twenty years with the same monkey friends.

7.  Professional food contest eater.  I actually think you have to be genetically predisposed for this one, with a huge stomach and a very relaxed esophagus.  There is just something so foul about eating 100 hot dogs in a row, I just don’t know how those guys do it.

8.  Personal assistant to someone like Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan.  Total golden handcuffs job– they have to pay you a lot of money to keep you quiet, but then you can’t share the secrets of the absolute, crazy insanity that is your job with the rest of the world.  Too bad, really. 

9.  ER Doctor.  I hate being startled.  Hate it.  And, like, being startled is all those people do, for twleve hours a day.  Drug overdose!  Shooting!  Stabbing!  Broken leg!  Everything with this job is a big fat exclamation point, all the time, and I don’t think my nerves could take it, even for one day.  I’d be like "eight years of school…that’s fine.  I quit."

And speaking of nerves, I must include as last but not least the job of psychiatrist, a job I thought I actually might want for one desperate six month period in the eleventh grade, until a career counselor (sort of an amateur psychiatrist, perhaps) informed me that psychiatrists have the highest rate of suicide of anyone else in the medical profession.  And why wouldn’t they, come to think of it?  They have to sit and talk to depressed people all day.  Crazy!  Depressed!  Anxious!  It’s got to be hard to feel like you’re making any progress at all when people come back year after year with the same problems.  That’s all I’m saying.