kate gosselin

Kate. Oh. Kate. I hear ya, honey. I hear ya. Could your ex be more of a douche bag? Now, with that said, you should know that I never side with women during split ups. Ever. I don't know why, I think it's a flaw on my part, but it's true. I always feel like the woman is usually the cause of the break up, no matter what the situation is. I know, I know....you're all throwing banana peels at the computer screen. I can't explain my theories, I just think for the most part, women are whiny, bitchy nags and guys are ..... guys.



Anyway, so this is all new for me. I'm siding with the wife. Their whole...situation reminds me of like when a couple is dating for a year or so during high school or college and when they break up, the guy is like, "Oh yeah? Oh yeah?....I don't have to listen to you, I don't have to do what you say. Lookie me, lookie me---I can go out with whomever I like". Oh, okay, Jon----you're quite the man. Ugh. And when did a balding Asian man become all the rage? Puh-lease. He just learned how to smoke 2 weeks ago. He thinks he's the poster boy for Ed Hardy (Oh, and FYI....I've just been to Vegas and every other toothless wonder was wearing an Ed Hardy shirt. The fad is over, people).



I know how I would feel if Jason and I broke up and I had to stay home with my kids while he gallivanted around NYC, took lavish vacations with sluts and lived in a $5,000/month apartment. Oooohhh, I'd be pissssssed! Jon's all reliving his 20's and whatnot. Waaa Waaa Waaa. No one held a gun to his head and forced him to marry and procreate 8 times in 5 years. (pssst...actually I DO think that there was a gun to his head. Shhhhh)



Nevertheless, I think he's a loser and I'd love nothing more if we'd all stop following his every move. It's just feeding into his ego.



I will put the kibosh on this blog with this one last little tid bit. I had a dream two nights ago that Jason died and I had no other choice but to move in with kate. I'm here to say---she is not easy to live with. We were both crying over dinner one night [over our current situations] and then she yelled at me for getting mascara on her linen napkins. How funny that in my dream I had absolutely no other option, but to move in with Kate Gosselin. That is one scorned woman. ....And what's up with continuing to wear that hideous, marquis wedding ring? He gone, girrrrl. That boy is gone. Take off that pitiful excuse for a diamond and get on with your bad self. (just take your criticism & controlling tendencies down a notch) You be awight.



And while I'm on the subject of TLC, have you noticed that Michelle Duggar and her homely daughter in law have updated their looks (a tad)? They still wear denim jumpers and their hair is still hopelessly long, but at least their bangs are tamed and that's a big start. I think she read m' blog. Thanks, Shell!

This blog brought to you by TLC....and Dolly Madison.

LB

Vegas kicked my ass.

Highs and Lows of Vegas, baby. Vegas.

Jason and I embarked on a much, much needed vacation, to celebrate our 10th anniversary. We took a li'l trip to Vegas, baby. Vegas. We started our trek at the ultra swanky Motor City casino (hotel) in Detroit (only because we had such an early flight out in the morning). Maybe that was mistake number one. Our hotel room was off the hook, total high roller room. However, we only used it for about 5 hours before flying out. :-( We're talking a bathroom that I've only dreamt of. $200 Egyptian cotton robes with matching slippers. A 4 foot deep bath tub, etc. etc.. For whatever reason, we decided to go get ourselves a cocktail before hitting the sack.



We wound up in a bar that had a black light as part of it's ambiance. Cool, huh? Yeah, if you're 18 years old and have no signs of aging or sun damage. The black light revealed my husband's(who has perfect skin) every freckle, flaw and line. I could ONLY IMAGINE what my face must have looked like. What a terrible idea for decor, especially in a bar/nightclub. Whose brilliant idea was that. "Hi, I'm Suzy, see my pores? They look like hubcaps, don't they? And what about how you can plainly see every sunburn I've ever had? Not to mention dandruff?" Yeah. Cool.



Next morning. Airport. We're in line, waiting to go thru security and I turned around to look at the homely chick standing behind me. She mistook that as an invitation to talk endlessly to us (by us, I mean my husband because at 5:30 A.M., I am NOT one for small talk, so I simply turned my back to her). She asked countless questions and offered up information about herself that we had absolutely no interest in whatsoever. My husband, God bless 'em, he's so polite, he was just humoring the poor troll. Standing less than 6 inches from both of them, I texted him. His Blackberry suddenly rings, he reads it and laughs. I wrote, "STOP ENCOURAGING IT TO TALK TO US". He laughs out loud and I put my phone away. It couldn't have been more obvious that the text was about her. It didn't deter her though. She kept right on chatting. So annoying. I may have mentioned that I'm not a people person. Then she turns to the people behind us, "you have a stroller and a car seat, but no baby? Where's your baby? Oh, you're adopting from Korea? What's her name? How long did it take you to get her? What else did you buy for her? What if the adoption didn't go thru, can you return this stuff?" Jesus. I prayed that she wasn't on my flight. She'd wouldn't have made it to Vegas alive, I'll tell you that much.



Ok so we finally get thru security and we realize that we have 3 minutes to get to the other side of the terminal. We start booking through the place like O.J. To my right, I notice a heavier set, woman, mid-40's, somewhat stylish, gaudy-Italian looking woman. She's merging toward us and here's how she greets us, (no exaggeration) "are you trying to catch the flight to vegas? Jesus Christ, what a day. Sonofabitch, what a fucking day. I already checked in, those fuckers can wait for my fat ass, I ain't running. They can wait". I'm dying. Obviously, I've just found my new best friend. I love it when people you don't know feel that comfortable swearing in your presence. At 5:30 A.M., no less. Love her. She did, in fact, make it to her flight. In case you were worried.

We board. We take our seats. I don't get to sit with Jason, which doesn't bother me much because he's not easy to sit next to on an airplane (what, with the heavy breathing and twitching). I took an aisle seat, popped a xanax and 4 hours and 14 minutes later, we were in Vegas, baby. Vegas.

First of all, I was amazed at the diversity that is Las Vegas. All walks of life, I tell you. We first hit breakfast, checked in and then hit the strip! We shopped until our legs fell off. Fascinating, I know. Hold your horses, I'll get to the good part.

We stop back in our casino (MGM) and decide to gamble a bit before cleaning up for dinner. That's precisely when disaster ensued. A 'little bit' of gambling turned into a big mess of ugly. Jason lost everything but his pants at the Craps table. I got bored waiting for him, so I hit the slots. Mind you, I really do hate gambling. I feel it's more useful to actually take the money and throw it out our 26th floor window, but I digress. But, I begin to change my mind when I spent $100 to win $200. (Later, I realize that this is only a $100 win. Shut up) During my cycle of being up & down, I took full advantage of the free cocktails (mistake number 2). I stumbled around to find my husband, asked for our room key because I wanted to change out of my now-smoke infested clothing. I wandered aimlessly until I found the elevators. I didn't, however, notice that there were different elevators for different floors. Imagine my confusion, frustration and sheer panic when I realized each and every elevator only went to the 20th floor while I so desperately was trying to get to the 26th floor. Finally, almost in tears I say to the fellow-riders, "Why won't these fuggin things take me to the 26th floor?" The kind gentleman simply pointed me in the direction of the elevators that went from the 21st to 29th floor. Ahhhhh, now that makes better sense! I followed a lovely couple into my elevator (completely oblivious to the fact that I had my own agenda). I got off at their floor (22) and continued following them until they got to their room. You can imagine the concerned look on the wife's face as I stood behind them while they were entering their room. LIGHT BULB! It hit me like a ton of bricks that I had my own room!!! (this is the part where I said disaster ensued) I wandered back to the elevator and rode up to my floor (26). I'm proud of myself for remembering this. However, I'm not as proud of myself when I realize that I have absolutely NO IDEA which room is mine. It never occurred to me to look. I guess I just assumed I'd recognize it when I saw it. I won't tell you exactly how long it took me to narrow down which room was mine. I might have passed out by the Coke machine a time or two, but eventually I found it. (SHARON, this is the part where I could barely text you that I was having a blast). I forgot why I even wanted to go back to my room in the first place. I was a practically a tour guide at the MGM by now, so I stumbled around until I found Jason who was down even further than he was the last time I saw him. We decided at that point to get dressed for dinner and make our way out of the casino.

But wait, we--guess what--went shopping again. I was strolling around the Venetian like we owned the place. Who do I bump into while shopping at Barney's? None other than Kim, big-fat Kourtney and Kris Kardashian and their entire entourage. (Yes, I have the pix to prove it) The paparazzi standing outside the entrance should have tipped me off, but I assumed they were there for me. They were all wearing black leggings, long shirts, sunglasses and tall, riding boots. Where did I go right after I saw them? Off to buy black leggings and new sunglasses, of course. (I already had the tall boots). Jason is following behind them saying (yelling) "WHAT ARE THEY EVEN FAMOUS FOR ANYWAY??? SO THEIR DAD WAS AN ATTORNEY AND THEIR STEP-DAD IS BRUCE JENNER, WHO CARES.....WHY ARE THEY SO IMPORTANT, I DON'T GET IT". I'm dying.

Oh yeah. We went into Madame Tussuad's too. Of course we couldn't just take pictures of the wax celebrity figures like normal people. No, we had to be disgusting. Jason was spanking Jessica Simpson and going down on Jenna Jamison. I flipped off Madonna. It was great. I'd post these pictures, but my ultra-conservative husband has forbid me from doing so.

Lastly--this part isn't so much funny as much as my rant. We went to see George Lopez (you are aware that my husband is 100% Mexican, right)? I wanted to see Dane Cook, but unfortunately, he was in my hometown at the very same we were in Vegas (Grrr). So, we settled on Jorge Lopez. I went from finding him mildly amusing to downright hating him. What a douche bag. The Mexican gestapo was there to ensure that we weren't taking pictures of him. I took a pic of Jason & I before the show even started and within 2 seconds, his croonies were on me with their flash light, "You better put your camera away before Mr. Lopez comes out" Yeah. I got it. The waivers that we had to sign, plus the 200 mega-screens telling us to put away our phones & camera tipped me off. So, before the show even starts, they turn on the flat screens and we are forced to watch a 30 minute promo for his new late night show that's coming out. I didn't say anything, but I was thinking that his self promotion was a bit obnoxious. OK, so he comes out and all the Mexicans go mental, screaming, yelling Mexican slurs, etc. I expected that. Like I said, my husband & his family are 100% Hispanic. After a while, George gets really annoyed with his (paying) audience and says, "Settle down, let me work, quit yelling, be quiet, relax". Just basically being very condescending and a tad rude to his (paying) audience, if you ask me. I was put off by him. So after plugging his new show, oh, 300 times and talking about how he came from nothing (yeah, we got it. you've mentioned that a dozen times now) he starts talking about how he's taking Late Night to a whole new level. What level would that be? You invite guests onto your show, you interview them. Wow. Riveting. He keeps ranting about how he's the first Latino to be thaaaat successful and aren't we all amazed by his wealth? Then he made a comment about how if his late night show takes off, he won't have to come back to 'this place' (meaning he won't have to do stand up anymore). Wow. Really? Did you just really insult your audience? I was totally shocked.

Finally, he's back on the same topic of coming from nothing and how his grandpa wouldn't go to his baseball games when he was little (waa waa waa) and some dumb drunk girl from the audience yells, "'cause you SUCKED". That did it. George was pissed! He stopped, looked at her and said, "I suck? (long dramatic pause) Because I'm pretty sure I didn't PAY to come see YOU. And I'm pretty fucking sure YOU don't have a Late Night show!!!!" Now, for those of you who may not have heard....I DO HAVE A LATE NIGHT SHOW, on not one, but two channels, airing in 2 weeks. So, you can imagine how Jason had to practically sit on me to prevent me from getting up on my hind legs and announcing this to Jorge. I'm all, "Ummmm...I don't like to toot my own horn, buuuuttt....). Jason was pleading with me not to make my big announcement, when I became totally distracted by the drunk girl, as the Mexican gestapo came and immediately removed her from the audience (jesus, just for yelling 'cuz you sucked'? Settle the f. down, Jorge). He then just transformed into a total dick. He said, "There's only 3 Latinos that have made it big in this industry. 1. Desi Arnez 2. Freddie Prinze and (he gestured himself) and walked off stage, shaking his head.

There was an awkward air about the crowd. It was very weird. I'd never been to a show like that before. Very full of himself, very arrogant, very self-promoting. I, for one, will NOT be tuning into his Late Night show. Besides, it airs on my birthday and I have better things to do. Screw him. His audience is his bread and butter and he acted so disrespectful toward us, like he was doing us such a big favor. Mexicans! When I make it big, I'm going to be licking the ground that my fans walk on!

Other than seeing the sights and shopping until our bank was basically calling us andvising us to go home, there isn't much else to tell. I won't be going back to Lost Wages anytime soon. I'm not on speaking terms with MGM at this present time. We had a ball, but Sin City did, in fact, kick our ass.

tough times!

My husband has been insisting that I get a J-O-B for about 4 years now. I've only recently felt the need for a J-O-B since my television show was picked up (it costs money to look this good). So, I humored the old boy and finally decided to throw him a bone. Plus, the holidays are upon us...it just made sense.

So, I applied to do floor moves at Bath & Body Works. To clarify, 'floor moves' does not involve clear heels or a stripper pole. It entails me going into BBW on Sunday evenings (when the store is closed, hence NO CUSTOMERS) to tear down the current floor displays, following a diagram and putting up a new one. What? Organizing something, UNinterrupted AND getting PAID for it? You're shitting me? Where do I sign up?

So, they called me in for an interview yesterday. An interview? Um, have I mentioned that I was the Shop Director at a BBW right after I graduated from college? This is not meant to impress you, this is just pertinent to the story. But, I smugly agree to the 'interview' anyway. I'll play along, I think to myself.

So, I arrive and apparently they've decided to do group interviews---so I'm sitting on a metal folding chair with 3 other applicants. 1 teenage mother and two older women. The manager greets us and apologizes for her bad breath. We all agree that it's not as offensive as she insists it is. She starts by asking a series of predetermined questions.

Question #1. If you were to receive shipment (long, dramatic pause) which item would you put out on the floor first?

No one answers. I sheepishly raise my hand, although I'm secretly nervous that I'll look like a brown noser. I answer, "Um, I'm just spit balling here, but I'd probably put out the item that we needed the most, first". She nods slowly at me, touches her nose, then points at me. I understand that I've answered correctly. Then, I get up on my hind legs and go for the jugular. I add, "I'd prioritize". The old gal next to me jumps on board, "PRIORITIZE, I was just about to say PRIORITIZE". I rolled my eyes.

Next Question: Have any of you had a job where you've either had to organize something? Again, no one answers. I throw caution to the wind and offer up that I've, in fact, been a manager at BBW, about 14 years ago. "OOoohh, that's riiiiiight" she says. She starts asking questions like, "Do you remember so & so?" and "what was the most popular scent back then"? So, for a few minutes, I regaled them with tales of BBW back in the day. I could totally tell that everyone else was jealous of my experiences and worldliness.

Question number 3: What was your most rewarding job. I decide that I am NOT going to raise my hand for this one. Let someone else step up to the plate. Teenage mother says that being a stay at home mother has been her most rewarding job. More than Dairy Queen, I wonder. Finally I got a silly hair up my ass. I looked directly at the manager, crossed both my eyes and in my silly voice I said, "Being the shop director at BBW was my most rewarding job". She said, "really"? and I said, "no". OK, I was obviously being completely sarcastic and I was hoping for a few chuckles, but not a one. All you heard was crickets. Embarrassment ensued!

Finally: She goes thru our applications and reminds this person to sign here, and that person forgot her social security number, Leslie--yours was perfect.....(I nodded to the rest of the applicants, letting them know that I am superior to them). Oh, Suzy, (her name wasn't suzy) you forgot to include some references. Suzy starts to panic a bit. "oh, well...I haven't worked in 6 years" That's ok, suzy...we just need references in case we're ever audited. It can just be a company you used to work for. "well, I...I haven't been in touch with anyone for years, I'd feel strange asking for a reference". Suzy, they can't say good, bad or otherwise, all they can do is tell us that you worked there. "I'd be hard pressed to come up with some names".

At this point, we're all starring at this freak who insists on being difficult. Manager: Suzy, could you list a friend or neighbor. "No, we don't live in a neighborhood. Could I ask my mother"? Manager: No. Frankly, I'm surprised she didn't put her houseplant down. Instead of just saying, I'll get back to you with some references, she made this big production of out not having any. It's not that difficult. I could rattle off 20 without batting an eyelash. She's freakier than we thought. So, we all start offering to help. We're all, "Your kids' teachers??? Your veterinarian???? Your hairdresser????" And she's all, "I home school my kids!!! I don't have any pets!!!! I cut my own hair with kitchen shears!!!!!" It was getting ridiculous and I teetered between feeling sorry for her and blogging about her. Clearly, I made the better choice.

Anyhoot. I have no idea if I got the job. I'm over here waiting with baited breath to find out. It was grueling, but I think I nailed it! Of course, my sarcasm may not have been well received and I may have blown it. Either way, I don't really care. At least I interviewed. That should keep Jason happy for a while. Until he gets the AMEX bill.....

LB (which I've just recently discovered is not only my initials, but also the abbreviation for pounds. Fitting!)