Greetings from La-La Land!
As of this very moment, Natasha’s joining the mile-high club somewhere over the Pacific, and within mere hours she’ll be cuddling Koalas and saying stuff like g’day mate. Doncha love it when a plan comes together? Me, too! (Shout out to the minions in my web who helped make it happen!)
All we need now is the final piece of the puzzle--namely, the phone call from Damien’s office awarding me the job. Should I wear a suit my first day? Or shall I go with something more feminine? Decisions, decisions!
Meanwhile, I’ve been catching up on my TiVo’d programs, and let’s just say I’m shocked and appalled by the current round of “celebrity” reality shows. I mean, come on, people. Seriously? Denise Richards…the Kardashians…Dina Lohan? Why so many hours dedicated to chicks with nothing going on but their alleged hotness?
At least Paula Abdul has a life. A scary one, to be sure, but a life. Y’know, awards shows, Home Shopping Network appearances, American Idol…unlike an episode with Denise where the highlight is watching her make love to a stripper pole in front of her gal pals.
And don’t get me started on “Brooke Knows Best.” At first, I was like, Brooke who and what makes her an authority? Then I tuned in. Oh, puh-leeze…Brooke HOGAN. Here’s where I learned what happens when your ex-wrestler dad splits from your mom and your brother’s thrown in the slammer. You get your own reality show, complete with a Miami condo, a rooftop hot tub, and a killer view! (Hm. Maybe Brooke DOES know best.)
All I can say is, when are the cable channels gonna wake up and discover the queen of reality should be…me?