There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


home home home i want home.

I have just had an orgasmic experience. It’s called Skating with the Stars, or some nonsense like this. It combines ALL of my guilty pleasures. It’s cheesy. I am a cheese whore.

It is reality TV. I have firmly established my mild retardation through my endless (almost) fascination with the world of reality TV (there are a few things that even I won’t watch, such as non-celebrity Fear Factor).

It is ice skating. I REMEMBER when everyone in the universe had a Dorothy Hammil haircut – the wedge, they called it. Makes fat girls look fatter, I called it. Sassy. Stylish. She’s baaaack. I also remember when Tai Babilonia and Randy Gardner were the shizznit. She’s still gorgeous! Tanya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan. Trash + Teeth.

It is gay. It is gaylicious. It skips across my consciousness wearing high heels and pig tails. It is Kurt Browning. It is not Brian Boitano or some dude named Crispin or Robin, but it’s pretty stinkin’ gay, and I love that.

It is Bruce Jenner. Have you seen Bruce Jenner lately? He looks a lot like Jocelyn Wildenstein crossed with some suburban soccer mom (with a Dorothy Hammil haircut!). Stretched so tight. So scary. So driving a mini van.

Debbie Gibson? Playboy? Trainwreck?

You might think that Todd Bridges would be the piece of resistance, but you’d be wrong, because you would have completely discounted the hypnotic qualities of Dave Coulier. I can’t look at him, can not, can’t can’t look at him without imagining Alanis Morrisette attached to his crotch. Orally, I mean. You ought to know. Or really, none of us ought to know, because, Alanis, what the fuck? Hello?

So, anyhoo. That was the high point of my day, because I spent the rest of the day dealing with Crappy Online University and crazy people.

The crazy lady from yesterday seemed to come to a head today and to spew pus over the rest of us. She referred to people as egomaniacs. She yelled at an African woman because she wasn’t American (“That’s not how we do it here.”). She invoked the edumication she had accumulated over the years by saying some crap about, and I quote, “Bloom’s Toxicology.” I so wish I was kidding. She stomped out in a huff, then came back.

Then the teacher, the guy who is supposed to be imparting knowledge unto us, said something about abacus-y. And I had a hard time figuring out what the hell an ancient Chinese counting and ciphering device had to do with anything. Turns out he was trying to say “advocacy.” I should have axed!

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