Thursday, September 22, 2011

Sushi. Geisha. Onsen.

Every celebrity requires a detox. And J.Ro is no exception.


I'm off on a voyage of Elizabeth Gilbert proportions. Many colleagues requested to substitute during my absence, but I respect my Romaniacs too much to delude your minds with words other than my own.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

O Anderson

I thought Anderson would be a second rate Oprah knock off, but last week he proved me wrong...by hitting the tanning salon with Snooki.


Ms. Winfrey would never have thought up something so enlightening.

Tasteless Town


Los Angeles magazine operates under the notion that people in it's city actually eat food.

Pumped For Bedtime

I'm all for innovative marketing strategies.


But when you attempt to sell one thousand thread counts at a gas station parking lot, you've taken the word synergy too far.

A Farewell To Envy


I recently read an article on Earnest Hemingway. Not only did he travel the world, take many lovers, and write great novels...he also was hot.


Is it wrong to feel jealousy towards a dead person?

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Adventures In Babysitting

The new movie Babysitter requires us to believe the impossible.


That parents would leave their offspring alone with Jonah Hill.

Homophobic Font

While making a new business card on Zazzle, I discovered this font.


I was offended, and decided to pick the font to show my LGBTQ pride.


But it made my name look too damn gay.

Dog Eat Dog Town

When people ask me to describe L.A., I can never find the words.


But a clear image comes to mind.

Save It For Salem

It's one thing to practice witchcraft, it's another to brag about it on the back of your Prius.


In these polarizing times, people are hungry for a scapegoat. Has this witch never seen The Crucible?

Monday, September 19, 2011

Design Crime


Last week I had to cut up my credit card after someone stole the number to buy $320 worth of Target merch. Some would blame poorly protected card scanners. Some would blame the bad economy. I blame Missoni.


Once again, Italians inspire corruption.

Cupid's Arrow Hits Hard

To the software behind OkCupid, thanks for acknowledging my birthday.


To the copywriter behind OkCupid, thanks for using it as an opportunity to remind me I'm single.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Jackie O No She Didn't

On Tuesday, Diane Sawyer sat down with Caroline Kennedy to review audio tapes of Jackie O talking smack on LBJ, MLK, and the French.


Can you imagine what she'd say about Snooki?

Wear Me Out

Men's Wearhouse, stop sending me promotions via e-mail.


I'm gay. If I need a cheap suit, I'll go to H&M.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

3O


God didn't forget to send me a birthday gift.

29 No Mores

If Beyonce


Mtv


and JTT


can turn thirty


then so must J.Ro.

As I leave behind vintage J.Ro, I vow to relinquish 29 habits that have aided in creating my current reality.

No more birthday parties, unless somebody else plans it. After thirty, planning your own birthday means you’re single and close to suicide, or married and close to divorce.

No more shopping with others. Shopping is a necessity to garner sex, not an activity to garner memories.

No more straight girlfriends. If you’re a straight girl and I befriend you, rest assured I’m using you for something.

No more growing. On the bright side, flying coach is a lot less irritating than it would be if I were normal sized.

No more acting interested in vegans. I’m too hungry for rules.

No more acting interested in learning French. I’m too American to invest such energy in another culture.

No more trips to Vegas. Waking up in Treasure Island with Chlamydia isn't my idea of a vacation anymore.

No more cheap seats. If I’m going to see a Madonna concert, I wanna witness the botox up close.

No more layovers. Regardless of price, I’m purchasing the direct ticket. It’s only credit card debt.

No more listening to your drama, unless it contains numerous LOL moments.

No more using the abbreviation LOL.

No more helping you move apartments. If you were successful you’d own a house, and this wouldn’t be an issue.

No more giving money to charities that harass by mail. They use my donation to fund mailings to five other people. It’s like an evil chain letter.

No more logos. If it’s larger than the Lacoste alligator, I demand residuals for promoting.

No more cheap wine. I feel about cheap wine the way Gwyneth Paltrow feels about cheese out of a tube; I’d rather smoke crack.

No more smoking crack. Not that I ever did, but my window for acceptably experimenting with Whitney Houston type drugs has officially closed.

No more Sex and the City. If given a stage, I could reenact all six seasons in a one man show. Time to find new nonexistent women to live through.

No more vodka shots. Unless it’s a lemon drop.

No more smoking pot. Unless friends peer pressure me into it.

No more spelling correctly. I’m too busy whitening my teeth to know the letters they help pronounce.

No more masturbating to celebrities. From now on, I’m drawing the line at co-workers.

No more thinking I’ll one day become a lawyer, or a surfer, or marry a lawyer who likes to surf.

No more worrying about abs. I live too close to Magnolia Bakery.

No more responding to favors requested via Facebook. If you need my help, have the decency to e-mail.

No more leaving my flat without floss. Food now clings to my gums like an A&E Hoarder clings to bags of kitty litter.

No more attending weddings without a plus one. I’d rather stay home, recite Plath, and heat the oven to 450.

No more acting nice. I'm not a good enough actor for it.

No more being on time. My time is too important.

No more sending birthday cards to people not old enough to read them. I’m glad your child is turning two, but those cards that sing Aretha Franklin are too f*cking expensive.

It’s a lot to relinquish, but at least I’m not bitter.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Spiderman Wears Prada

Bryce for Kate Spade.


Great.

Latifah for Cover Girl.


Sure.

Tobey for Prada.


This is where I draw the line.

Monday, September 12, 2011

"Big Mistake. Big. Huge."

At a recent child beauty pageant, a mom dressed her three year old as the Pretty Woman hooker.


Like everyone, I'm outraged her daughter didn't win first place.

Lay Off Heartache

I have a crush on a teller at my B of A, and this announcement could forever change my imaginary boyfriend's future.


I must have faith his dress slacks are too well tailored to be let go.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Almost Lohan-ed

This better force the judge to give Lindsay a proper sentencing.

Culture of Fear


The newest tagline for Contagion makes me miss Rumsfeld's humor and Cheney's smile.


Those two made fear seem sexy.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Black Sheep

This month Vanity Fair released an Olsen Twin secret; they have an unsuccessful younger sister.


She doesn't have a clothing line, she hasn't starred in a sitcom, and she wasn't allowed to create a fake major at NYU. To add insult, she admits to "doing theatre."

Thursday, September 8, 2011

A Weighty Statement

At first I was shocked by J.Hud's proclamation.


But then I watched Dreamgirls and completely understood her point.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Abdomen Denied

To protect their reputation, Kitson hung this sign on their store.


Kitson, we all know The Situation isn't a big enough douche to shop on Robertson. Your clientele remains safely self-aggrandizingly grotesque.

Reading Rage (to the derivative of x)

Many Romaniacs have mentioned that the F word in my previous post is addressed to Beverly Hills High School. So though performed at the library, this vandalism is really targeted at a calculus teacher (who refused to have sex with this patron).

Caper solved.

Reading Rage

Last week at the Beverly Hills Library, I noticed this act of vandalism.


How can somebody harbor such angst towards a library? What is the worst injustice a library can do, apply a late fee? I save my vandalism for people who refuse to have sex with me.

Battle of the Blondes


Sue Sylvester is so stealing Ellen's thunder with this whole hosting the Emmys thing. She best not dance in the aisles.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

E-nough

Last week I fell victim to a five dollar, four ounce bottle of vitamin E oil, supposedly does wonders for "face, hands, and feet."


I've come to realize vitamin E is olive oil packaged smaller and priced higher, and my feet feel none the softer.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Patriotism Has Its Limits

On Friday, I received this offer in the mail.


30,000 bonus miles sounds great. But if it means flying American, I'd rather Greyhound.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Customer Service

Yesterday I found this book on the "new arrivals" shelf at the library.


Whoever wrote this should be tortured, and by that I mean forced to work retail.

Live Hot

I've been so busy with my charity work, that I never considered appearance to be important.


But GNC recently opened my mind to the concept of living attractively; why don't more companies use this as a marketing tool?

Friday, September 2, 2011

Between A Rock and a Hard Place (For Reals)

In all seriousness, 127 Hours inspired me.


The real life Aron Ralston went all that time without water. So in honor of him, the real life J.Ro will go 27 hours without an ipod.


I'm in the midst of surviving hour three, and already feel a deeper understanding of Aron's struggle.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Crush of the Month = Seacrest 2.0

Now that it's September, I need a new man to occupy my autumn. And I've found him; the new host of X Factor.


I should Google his name, but I'm too busy snapping photos of him on billboards.


With this man in town, I'm singing "Seacrest out."