Okay, let's dish. Ms. Bosworth is near perfection in my opinion. The ensemble is bananas. I die. The hair and make-up are swoon-worthy. Chloe is a-d-o-r-a-b-l-e, (never mind the fact that everytime I see her, snippets of The Brown Bunny enter my head)--she can really pull anything off.
But what, prey tell, is that mess in the middle?? Okay, I get the shirt-but what on earth is goin' on with the rest of the get up?? And at a Chloe party????!!!!
I worked as a waitress for quite sometime during my years on the stage (not that stage, silly).
If there is anything that drives me bananas, it's when I get crap service. I'm not talking about the- you forgot I said no foam on my latte-crap service. What I am referring to is someone who can't, for the life of them, muster up a smile. Someone who asks you 3 times in 5 minutes if you're ready to order yet. Someone, who right after putting your order in the little computer, comes over and puts the flipping check down on your table.
This, my fellow readers, is what happened yesterday while "lunching" with my home girl (yeah, I said it). No, we weren't at a diner. No, we weren't at the Waldorf Astoria. That's all besides the point. This chick stalked us until my girl paid the bill. And what did she do immediately after?
Those of you who know me know my immense love for heavy metal music. I remember like it was yesterday, sitting in front of the T.V. on Friday nights completely in awe watching headbanger's ball. No one in my family liked this music, and I am quite certain that my father would have quit his night job had he known what I was up to. The hair..the make-up-loved it all. What I think I found most fascinating was just how well these boys could belt a lyric.
The first time I heard Sebastian Bach sing, I almost cried. The end of "I remember you"??!! Are you kidding me??!! This brings me to the fella above:
Forget that his hair is reminiscent of a monchichi. Look past the eyeliner. Forget the graphic photos circulating the web. This kid has chops. As Randy Jackson puts it, he has mad skills.
I may be a bit dramatic saying this, but I feel like when I watch this kid perform, and hear that insane voice, that the music industry is in for a real treat (provided he doesn't allow them to chew him up and spit him out). He is so flipping versatile it's ridiculous! I cannot think of a single artist as unique as Mr.Lambert that has surfaced in the last decade or so. It just goes to show you how much hidden talent is out there.
Or maybe I should be for doing this insane workout. I have been active pretty much my entire life, but THIS workout is C-R-A-Z-Y. 15 minutes into the dance BREAKDOWNS, and I was a sweaty mess. Don't even get me started on what I felt (or looked) like when I did the actual routines. Addison was laying there watching the "performance" like a deer in headlights.
In case you don't know the Madonna/ Gwyneth trainer, her name is Tracy Anderson. She will kill you, make you swear at the television, and get rid of your gut.
So, Add has these baby nail clippers by the american red cross. I now know why they-the red cross- are endorsing them. Addison could have given blood after I gave him a "manicure" the other night. Normally I am able to clip his little nails without any issues-but I accidentally nipped the little fella's thumb, and after several minutes of him screaming, I saw the blood. Those friggin' things are S-H-A-R-P. Why didn' I just let Freddy Kruger near my kid's didgits? I felt awful--horrible. I started crying, which didn't help Addison at all.
Jared came in and threw some calm on the situation and played doctor (don't be silly-this was serious!!). After some neosporin with pain numbing goodness, a band-aid, and a sock cast, all was well in the hood. Except i still felt like Joan Crawford.