New England weather gets X-TREME

This post is inspired by Dexy's Midnight Runner. And climate change.

COME ON IRENE. COME ON.

The week started out with the famed Virginia earthquake that caused the entire eastern seaboard to freak the hell out. Meanwhile, California pointed and laughed at how the northeast completely peed its pants over the 5.8 magnitude shimmy. I did not feel it.

According to weather.com, Hurricane Irene should hit Connecticut/Massachusetts this coming Sunday. I'll be moving back on campus on Saturday, so I really, really hope that this is one of those odd times when the forecasters aren't just taking a stab in the dark. Living in New England, I've become pretty accustomed to omg-we're-all-going-to-die-severe weather warnings that turn out to be small rainstorms or light snowfalls. However, the blonde blondie on the television says that Irene "could be the most dangerous hurricane of our lifetime (!!11!!111!)." We even made it to the extreme level.

At least it's not catastrophic?
Source

So does this mean that I should be afeared? The weatherman has gotten me excited with krazy forecasts so many times before, but more often than not, I'm sorely disappointed. Granted, Irene had better not come to say hello until all of my belongings are moved from the mini van to my dorm. I don't really care to move in amidst pouring rain and gale force winds. I'd also like for my amigos to be able to get to campus without having flights canceled and rerouted all over the place. If I have to wait until the middle of next week to reunite with my peeps from across the country, I'm going to get all angsty and annoyed.

But I could use some adventure. As long as I can watch the torrents safely from behind a thick window (perhaps with a cup of tea), I'm all for the big scary insanity of Irene. There's no cable on campus, so I'll take whatever entertainment I can get.

People are already starting to get their panties all twisted over Irene. Grocery store shelves are devoid of bread and bottled water. Five states have declared proactive states of emergency. Several large cities and counties have issued mandatory evacuations. I'm not entirely sure if we're awaiting a storm or an extraterrestrial invasion. That said, if my basement floods and the windows of my house are blown out, I'm totally going to regret having written this.

Blame it on global warming/climate change, fate, or the impending rapture, the end of the world is coming in the form of wind and rain for some reason or another. But I'm from New England. I've dealt with rain, blizzards, and even (small) hail. So Irene, bring it. I'm waiting.

Artificial Women: a.k.a. Rich B*tches

ORLY?

So, I watched an episode or so of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills today while I wrapped Christmas presents. Okay, I may have watched more than "one or so." But whatever. What's important is that I realized that those women are the very emblems of why I am proud to come from the sticks. They symbolize why money can be evil. And the best part is, they don't actually realize that the word "Real" mocks them, rather than makes them seem more impressive. Here are a few reasons why these ladies are so damn UN-real:



1. They're made of plastic. So much plastic. Someone should tell every single one of them that lifting their faces and injecting their lips does not make them more attractive. Their chests simply do not look real. If you have to purchase your physical features,  you're trying too hard.

Cute as a doll. Not as a person.

2. They shout "You're so fake!" at one another so frequently that it must be the truth. About all of them. They're saying it themselves.

3. At any given time, their hair looks "did" and their make-up looks airbrushed on. This is pretty at a party, but in one's own home, again, it just looks like they're trying too hard. If they were really pretty, they would brush out their hair, put on some eyeliner, and be done with it.

4. Their lives are sterile. There's not a speck of dirt on their clothes, in their homes, or on their snowy white yap-yap dogs. Life is slightly dirty. There's something not quite right about how clean these women are.

True story.

5. Their children are more spoiled than the leftovers wrapped in tin foil hidden at the back of your fridge. Seriously. Growing up isn't about getting everything that you want and more. If it is, then I did something seriously wrong when I was younger. Honestly, this show makes me want to transport the kids to a rural farm, park them with  a working-class family, and see what happens.Now, wouldn't that make for an interesting reality TV show?

Wouldn't it be nice to be born with a silver spoon in your mouth?

6. They air kiss at parties. But they're not European, so it just looks stupid. Oh, and they squeal with excitement while they air kiss because "OMG, I haven't seen you since like, yesterday! And you look fantastic! You're just so sweet!"

It's not just the housewives of Beverly Hills that follow this trend. The Barbie-esque stereotype of "beauty" seems to be the look of choice of all of the "real housewives" on Bravo. This encompasses those of Atlanta, New York, the O.C., and maybe a few other cities that I'm not remembering right now. But the point is, I've seen at least a few episodes of every series. These women live in impressive cities. They throw fantastic parties, drive luxurious cars, and buy fabulous houses. They receive extravagant gifts from their husbands, go on exotic vacations, and never ever worry about cash. And yet, I don't want to be them. I don't want to walk on eggshells on for my entire life. I don't want to "watch my back" because my neighbors are vindictive. I want to be able to say what I want, eat what I want, and be friends with whoever I want, without having to consider possible backlash. I would rather be happy than rich.