I'm In A Mood: Random Bitching

Totally swiping this idea from my genius writer friend Molly Brown's blog (photo right, on left, with beer bottle adhered to lips). As I lie awake every night for 90 minutes to two hours, waiting for my brain to calm the fuck down, there are so many random thoughts that drift through. I need to start writing this waste down, so at least it serves some purpose... perhaps.

In addition to redecorating the apartment, working on my daily "To Do" list and entertaining bitter thoughts about those who didn't bother to show at our once-a-year party, my mind is packed with random crap. Ooh, and I’m feeling a tad bit caustic, too. For instance:

1> Tiger Woods ever had a reputation as somebody? For god's sake, he plays golf. That's akin to be the most famous bowler or skeet shooter... I have never understood why athletes merit fame. They throw balls around a field. That's not a talent. It's not entertaining. It's not acting, singing, writing, playing a musical instrument or any form of artistry. Why exactly did anyone begin celebrating these men as heroes and bestowing them with million-dollar endorsements?

2> And while we’re at it… Wow, Tiger has whores coming out of his pores. Fame equates a moral code empowered with self-entitlement, in the same way that politicians believe they're above the law. Did anyone truly believe he was any better or different than Larry Craig? And does anybody think his wife didn’t know? Like the other million-heiresses, she’s in it for the love of money… until the book deal comes through. Give me a break. She is no victim here, living the beautiful life without lifting a finger to possess her own identity. Mrs. Tiger Woods = Mrs. John Edwards = Mrs. Jim McGreevey.

3> I figured the reason I kept hearing Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind” here in NYC is, well, because it’s about New York. Seeing it at the summit of the singles chart is a bit confounding. It’s really nothing more than a nursery rhyme sung generically by Alicia Keys (since radio stations don’t ID their artists, I didn’t even realize that until the AMA performance). Seeing that Britney Spears’ ghastly “3” and the Black Eyed Peazzzzzzzzzzz ghoulish, well, anything they plow, is also in the top 10, makes me pity today’s youth generation. None of these songs will be played on the radio in the long term. All novelties. If you told me six months ago that I’d be singing the praises of Lady Gaga as the savior of melodic music (with “Bad Romance” at No. 2), I’d have willingly flushed my face in the toilet. But that’s where we are.

4> The UN climate summit in Copenhagen: You want to know how much I care about this? Get me a $70,000 job so that I might again earn a living, and then talk to me about how, in 100 years, the earth is going to be 10 degrees warmer or the polar ice caps peak out and shit. Until the U.S. government puts its focus on the 10%+ unemployment at home, I could give a flying fuck about global warming. Renew my goddamn COBRA benefits, extend my unemployment pay, as I continue to beat the street to reinvent myself. I want to work. I apply for jobs week in and week out. In eight months, I have yet to land an interview. It’s partly my fault, for still believing that I’m a journalist, but I refuse to take full blame. There’s a momentous economic crisis in this nation, where companies are not hiring—partly because they can’t make money, partly because they recognize that they can hire two-for-one for half the price. But when I read that our president is wasting my time in Copenhagen, I have no patience.

5> Alexis Ray Joel, Billy Joel’s daughter, tried to kill herself—using herbal sleeping pills (what??)—because her musician boyfriend lost interest. Oh, how terribly terrifically terrible. A 23-year-old millionaire failed singer (wow, she must be the first talented singer who wasn't able to land a record deal) whose celebrity parents have given her everything she might ever dream of (except for that nose job she desperately needs), is in such pain. Waaaaaaah!!!! Bite me, you spoiled brat. How dare you. Take a Xanax like the rest of us and deal.

6> New York’s transit union has been granted an 11% pay raise for subway workers over the next three years. Guess what. They’re throwing a fit, demanding that the contract be overthrown so that they can renegotiate. Oh, whoops, oh, my, apparently these fat fucks missed the news bulletin that one in 10 New Yorkers have lost their jobs, and that those working for MTA are already earning more to steer a train along secure steel tracks than people that have to work for a living. My, oh, my, there’s a theme here. The self-entitled seem to cry the loudest.

Okay, I’m tired of bitching. Enough, already.