I think it's time for rehab...

I have a BIG problem. It's so big, in fact, that it's going to take a wishing well full of pennies to get me over it. I'm in a hole, i'm stuck in a rut, and I can't dig myself out or rev my engine to escape it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I'm addicted to television. If you know me at all, you'll know that this is really nothing that new. I've always had a slight dependence on the 'ole boob tube. Nothing crazy, just a hit here or there to stop the shakes.

But now, NOW, I have hit an all time low. I have to wake up in the morning to catch Reba and miscellaneous music videos. I have to come home on my lunch break to catch MTV's True Life or Wife Swap. I rush out the door at 5:00 to make sure I can make it home in time to catch re-runs of Grey's Anatomy and House Hunters.

And to make matters worse, I have about 5,000 channels. I used to only have a couple, and it was much more conducive to my lifestyle. But, my lovely boyfriend thought it'd be a great idea to get a gazillion channels when we upgraded to a flat-screen. "But Babe, it's HD!" But, Babe! now has her ass glued to the couch for a good 6-8 hours a day.

When did this start, you ask? Well, ever since I graduated from college 6 months ago, I have been faced with a ridiculous amount of free time that I never had before. So, I soon learned to fill that time with what's most important in my life- the lifestyles of the rich and the famous. What used to be a small reliance has developed into a full-blown addiction that may require Dr. Drew's assistance and a brief stay at the Pasadena rehabilitation facility.

The first step is realizing you have a problem though, right? So, I'm recognizing it. I, Amanda, have a serious, NO-JOKE, size-large, monstrous, disgusting addiction to television (specializing in reality programs). I am now going to slowly wing myself off the drug. I know what you're thinking, but I can't go cold turkey. I'm not strong enough for that. I just need to cut back. So, for this week, one hour a day of television must be replaced with one hour of reading.

I'll keep you posted...

Corrupt politicians...What else is new?

Why Chicago is going down the shitter.
Now, I may be taking out all of my angst for Chicago politics on Huberman, but...I'm ok with that. Let me explain. Huberman, the chief of Chicago Public Schools, has taxpayers forking out $1,800 a month on his "private travel." I don't know about other taxpayers, but I could care less how this sponge gets around town. Hell, he can take a bus or the El like I had to, or walk down unshoveled sidewalks in a foot of snow, like I had to. Let me also point out that it's not like he is making tiddly-winks for a salary here, either. The man makes $230,000 a year! He could easily afford his own car, or taxi, or take the Metra down to Springfield like everyone else! The Chicago Public schools are cutting important programs like music and art classes, and this asshole is taking taxpayer money, $21,600 of it annually, for his liesure!
The real problem is that it's not just one poltician reverse-Robin Hooding himself, it's all of them. They are taking our money, our HARD-EARNED money, and making a mockery of us all. The Chicago Public Schools need all the help they can get. Huberman should be donating to these kids, not taking their futures away from them. If you'll excuse me, I have to go throw-up now...

The Short List.

My life has been one crazy-ass roller-coaster ride of ups and downs, twists and turns and gyrating insanity. But with all the things I've done, or attempted to do, there's still a few things that I haven't gotten around to just yet...
In keeping with familiar lingo, I guess we could term this collection the "Bucket List," but just so you know, I'm not a big fan of cliches. So, don't get used to it...
1. Change a flat tire.
2. See the Eifel Tower and the Louvre.
3. Drive a race car.
4. Publish a book.
5. Spend a week completely by myself.
6. Move out of Illinois.
7. Own a truck.
8. Start a bookstore.
9. Visit a vineyard.
10. Live and love.

A Tribute to Jersey Shore...

When the infamous MTV wonder Jersey Shore commenced, I thought it was going to bomb. I thought it had the potential to be the worst show on television...in history. Now, after dedicating an hour each week to the nonsensical ramblings of twenty-somethings from Jersey, I have truly experienced love.

Before you judge me, let me digress. This show is like a trainwreck- it's so ridiculous that you can't help but tune in each week to see whose hair got higher, which guidette hooks up with which fist-pumping guido and what drunken ramblings Snookie will fall into and result in a punch to her overly-tanned mug. Each episode brings me deeper under its spell, and I shutter to think what I will do with my Thursday nights when the show completes its season. In case your new to the Jersey Shore sensation, or if you just feel like reliving it, let me break down each Shore-idian for you:
Let's go with the obvious one first- "The Situation." I hate this guy. No, really. I hate him so much I actually want to see him fail at everything he does. And there's nothing that he fails more at than "hooking up" with innocent prey. His quotes are definitely the best of all the characters, though. "It's not a matter of when we hook up, it's just when I decide..." Hes easy to cringe at and hard to like, but he does have some endearing qualities. i.e., his ability to name his abs "The Situation."
And then, there's Snooks. Snooks is the kind of girl that didn't get enough hugs as a child. Her bump-it 'do and tree-stump legs make her stand at about 3'5", on a tall day. I've seen that girl's underwear, and lack of underwear, more than I've seen my own. But she is kind of cute, in that smoosh-her-in-your-pocket kind of way. If she goes tanning one more time, I think her skin may actually start to CHIP off.
Ronnie and Sammi, what a match made in heaven. Ronnie is that hard to stomach, and the two together are actually quite adorable. Sammi, or the "sweetest bitch you'll ever meet," is a real treat. Somedays, shes a little whirlwind of spunk. And others, shes downright crazy. I'm anxious to see if this duo will last beyond the Jersey Shore.
JWOW is...? She might not be half bad if she took those damn blonde-extensions out of her weave, stopped wearing sweatpants with Uggs in the middle of the summer with her undies incessantly hanging out and learned how to dance like a normal human being. That's one bitch I'd want on my side, though, I'll tell you what...
Pauly, or as I like to call him, the Hair Gel King, has been taken under the wing of "The Situation." He's his wingman, and is always stuck with the broken-down friends of "The Situation's" hook-ups. Pauly, get some balls, dude. Stand up for yourself and take the hot one for once.
Last but not least, there's Vinny. (Who?) He's a pretty uneventful character, but it seems like the longer he hangs with his housemates, the more Guido he's getting.

To be an Alumni, or not to be...

Here I am. January 2nd and I'm staying true to my resolution...pretty impressive! I've also made it kind of an unspoken promise to myself to increase my presence on the Web over the next few months. In doing so, I have joined about a thousand networks and groups over the past couple days. I'm not picky; if it has a lot of members and the words "job opportunities" somewhere in the description, I sign myself up. I'm going somewhere with this- I promise.

So, my first natural selection for groups involved my alumni status from DePaul University. This process should have been easy; it should have been trouble-free. However, I ran into a situation that irked me. Maybe irked isn't a strong enough word- it'd be more like PISSED me the HELL off.

ALUMNI is a term that should be reserved for those students who actually graduated from said institution. It's a word that connotates an earned education. Included under this umbrella is late nights studying/partying, countless trimester hours and the big one...$100,000 in tuition. Now I'm not a rich girl, so that's why I get hung-up on the fact that I had to pay one-hundred grand for school; it's not something I take lightly. So you can imagine my sentiments when I see people falsely claiming alumni status.

I guess technically, by American dictionary definition, anybody who attended an institution is an alumni, despite the duration. However, it is my personal one-hundred thousand dollar opinion that alumni should be reserved for those who actually graduated from said institution. It's not fair for you to go for three weeks and drop out and now suddenly your an alumni- that's not how it works. The school doesn't recognize it, so you shouldn't recognize yourself as such.

I'm familiar with how this works. In fact, I did the 'ole one month trial at Northern Illinois University. Let's just say, it didn't work out, and that's totally fine. I don't reference it on any resume's, alumni associations or job applications- it's like it never happened.

The bottom line, ladies and gentlemen, is that I worked hard and paid an arm and a leg for my education. Did you? Then get out of my alumni association!

Here's the Deal...

I'm probably the biggest procrastinator you've never met. I put off everything from waking up in the morning, to getting ready to go to bed. It takes me 5,000 miles extra to get an oil change on my car, two days longer to pay my bills- even though I have the money just sitting in my account, and twenty minutes more than it should to get to work because I try to delay my eight-hour work day for as long as possible.

So, with that in mind, I've made the most ridiculous New Year's resolution for myself this year. It's something so far-fetched, so unrealistic, so ludicrous that it just may work to help cure me of my horrible disease.

I am making it my personal business to keep this blog jumpin'. By 2011, I must have 400 marvelous, fantastic, upsurd, over-the-top posts. But, wait! There's more!

I've had this dream of writing a book ever since I could pick up a pen. I've started about 26 different novels and 32 collections of my best work. Being the procastinator I am, obviously I have yet to make it even halfway on any of these masterpieces. So this is what I'm proposing- on top of the 400 posts, I must also begin, continue and complete a novel.

This is my mission, should I choose to accept...

Octo-Mom...

While I am pretty dedicated to my dislike for Chicago, it was brought to my attention that Nadeya Suleman is a disaster. This girl needs some blogging...
Dear Naedya,
You are one crazy bitch. I can't seem to understand anything about you, except for the fact that people like you are the reason our economy is so messed up. Do you watch the news? I'm sure you do, you're on it every damn day.
Why, in God's green earth, would you have six embryo's implanted in your uterus when you don't have a job, are not married, and already have six little rugrats running around?
I could understand if you get pregnant as a result of a crazy night with memories of Patron and Makers. I could even understand if you got caught up in the moment and had unprotected sex. Hell, I would even believe 3 different forms of failing birth control. But, I will never understand what you did. There are plenty of ways to make money.
For example, you could strip. From what I can see, you don't have a strand of moral fiber in your being, so I don't think taking your clothes off for money would be that big of a problem for you.
Hey, why not be a prostitute? Oh, that's right, you don't like to have sex, you just like to be implanted with things (babies, collagen, etc.).
I hate people like you. You are a drain on society and a disgrace to the human race. Get a job.
You already got $4,000 a month for your other kiddos, and now you have 8 more. You get more free money than I earn in a year- and I have a college degree, and a job!
We should put you in jail. Better yet, we should rip out your uterus and put it on display at Ripley's Believe it or Not, because trust me, no one would believe that someone as stupid as you exists.
What was going through that little head of yours? I'm guessing nothing because its too full of fake shit. And by the way, you are not Angelina Jolie. Even she's not as crazy as you.
So, Octo-Mom, I guess what I am trying to say is get off my t.v., radio, magazines, and perezhilton. Your face makes me want to get my tubes tied, and I'm only 23. I don't want to raise your kids, hell, I don't even know if I want to raise my own. But, I do know that you are one crazy bitch.
Sincerely,
Amanda