Your Big, Cellulite Covered Booty

I know you have cellulite on your booty.

Even if you are a resident of Los Angeles and best friends with a plastic surgeon, I know you have some ripples and dimples somewhere on that big ole booty of yours. What I don't know is whether or not someone is coming to take a picture of your booty.

You see, I was at the grocery store waaay too late last night, and the covers of the magazines in the checkout aisle were totally harassing me. Why do I have to walk past the checkout line at a grocery store, where, mind you, I am buying FOOD, and see pretty much every magazine cover discussing who's too fat, who's too thin, and how to lose 10-20 even 50 pounds while still eating white sugar, flour and a boatload of salt? Why?

And clearly it was a slow news week at the National Enquirer because they did one of their covers similar to this one, spotlighting which stars have cellulite.

Hint to the Enquirer: ALL OF THEM have it. Every single last female celebrity has cellulite. Even if they have starved themselves down to crack-head levels, they probably still have some cellulite. No matter how much you try to get those ripples sucked out and smoothed and whatever the heck else, 99% of women are going to have cellulite. It's called being human.

Instead, the Enquirer brings poor Mischa Barton to tears by running a photo of her 22 year-old booty, complete with ripples and dimples. Now, I'm sure on the one hand Mischa's loving the free press because she hasn't had anything going on since the OC went off TV. In fact, I'll bet you asked yourself, "Who the heck is Mischa Barton?" Yeah, me too. Never watched the show and I don't think she's "hot" by any stretch of the imagination. But now Mischa's got an interview with OK! Magazine about how unfair the Enquirer was. OK! asked Mischa profound questions like, "Are you self-conscious about your body?" -- to which Mischa said, "No," because she comes from a European family. (Whatever that means!)

No, what Mischa should have done is told the Enquirer that she's actually part black and the black community is a lot more accepting of having some booty. Then she could have pointed out that studies are showing having a big booty is nice and healthy and helps prevent diabetes. Granted, the study was only done on lab mice, and any health benefits of the big booty can and will be negated by the spare tire you're carrying around across your belly, but still!

Mischa should've also asked the Enquirer why they don't take more pictures of men and their guts and man-boobs. Seen photos of Tobey Maguire when he's not shooting a Spiderman movie? Uh huh, I don't think so!

Think about all the sitcom husbands with their toothpick-sized wives. It's like we're supposed to believe the wife isn't sitting around eating high fructose corn syrup laced food too. I'm supposed to think the wife only breathes in the aroma of the Doritos and doesn't ever eat one. Whatever.

And next time you see Jack Black in a movie playing the fat goof ball, ask yourself, would Jack Black ever get a job in Hollywood if he was a woman? If you said yes, let me tell you, you're wrong because if ever there was a candidate for the Jillian Michael's 30-Day Shred DVD, it's Jack. (Did it for the 3rd time this morning. Yes We Can!)

But women? Who do we have? Jennifer Hudson, Camryn Manheim or that one girl from High School Musical -- gosh, her name escapes me at the moment but it's not the one that's dating Zac Efron and had the naked pictures of herself floating around. No it's definitely not naked picture girl because nobody wants a naked picture of a "big girl" unless they are, ahem, into that sort of thing.

I know, it's not going to change anytime soon because a million people will pay money for that copy of the Enquirer and all the other magazines that try to sell how amazing your life will be if you don't have cellulite and you get a whole lot skinnier.

Look to Mariah Carey if you need proof that the skinny does not equal an amazing life. The magazines showed us photos of Mariah Carey's transformation from a size 8 (me) to a size 2 (what I'm apparently supposed to want to be). Well, Mariah got skinny and went and married Nick Cannon so clearly, being thinner does not equal having a lick of sense!

Anyway, I hope you and your big, cellulite covered booty have a great day. Just no "switching" when you walk, mmkay?

The Rolling Stone Surprise

Three months ago, a copy of Rolling Stone mysteriously arrived in my mailbox. Kid Rock and some gross looking scantily clad women were on the cover.

Boo!

A few days later, a copy of Glamour also arrived.

Double Boo!

Needless to say, I was a little puzzled by these magazines coming to my home. Sure, they had my name on the address labels, but I have never been a regular reader of Rolling Stone or Glamour. I never sent in one of those 3x5 "Yes! I want 12 issues!" cards for either and no one told me they'd decided to bestow a gift subscription on me.

I rang up the subscriptions department of Glamour and found out that my receiving the issue with America Ferrera on the cover was, thankfully, some sort of mistake.

Whew. There is a God!

I expected to hear a similar story from Rolling Stone but kept forgetting to contact them.

A month into this mystery subscription, I sat down to read the Rolling Stone 40th Anniversary issue. I briefly wondered if the subscription was the "gift" of some sort of online stalker. I love y'all and all that, but you never know.

Putting my paranoia aside, I cracked open the issue and found that it featured "Twenty-five Interviews on the Future of America and the World." There were only three women interviewed, and out of the men, let's just say they were a very undiverse group. It annoyed me so much to think that the magazine could ask the usual suspects like Bono, Bill Maher and Al Gore to talk about the future of this country but not query women and people from diverse backgrounds who are really doing amazing things.

Of course, this got me thinking about how I honestly don't really know who the women who are doing amazing things are. What do I see or hear about the real things women are doing in the world? Well, the majority of stories about women are concerned with whether they were best or worst dressed, whether they had plastic surgery or not. Whether they got dumped or are dating and whether they are too fat or too thin.

Who could they interview? Angelina Jolie? Nancy Pelosi? Condoleeza Rice? Meredith Viera? Heck, I don't know. They interviewed a lot of old school male rock musicians so surely they could have asked Pat Benatar or Tina Turner to chime in on what they think about George Bush and Iraq. Debbie Harry, anybody?

But no such luck.

My irritation reminded me that I needed to contact their customer service. They had an 800 number listed in the "Contact Us" section, but it was after business hours so I shot an email off to them and asked if they could tell me how I got the subscription.

Today, as I perused a very photo-shopped looking cover of Led Zeppelin, I realized I hadn't heard back from their customer service.

I checked my watch and saw that it was well before the end of business hours. So I dialed the 800 number. I immediately got connected with "Brian" --who totally sounded like a woman, but whatever.

I felt like an idiot as I explained to "Brian" that I'd been getting the magazine for a whole three months and I had no idea how this had happened.

Brian very patiently told me that I subscribed when I purchased some concert tickets through Live Nation earlier in the summer.

"Um, huh? I don't remember that."

"The subscription came free with the tickets you purchased."
"So it didn't cost me anything extra?" I'm sure my voice conveyed all the skepticism I was feeling.

"No. Not at all," Brian reassured me.

And this is where I am sure I must have sounded like a complete moron to Brian.

"Oh, that's good because I wondered for a second if some weird blog stalker had decided to give me a gift subscription."

Brian could only say, "Um, well, no. Okay, umm....You have a subscription till October 2, 2008." I'm sure he was thinking, "What is this crazy heffa talking about?" Or at least, if I were Brian, that's what I would have been thinking.

I rescued him from the awkward "too much information" moment and said, "Well, thanks for the info, Brian. Bye!"

So now I am left with the realization that I have a whole year of Rolling Stone to enjoy. That is a surprise indeed.

Seriously, Who Buys Porn at the Airport Bookstore?

I'm in Detroit waiting to get on my flight to NYC. I've been here since 4:30 AM so I've been killing time perusing the books and magazines in the little bookstore.

These are the same books and magazines I checked out in the airport bookstore back home in LA, but that's absolutely irrelevant. I have to go in. I just love that bookstore smell, the soft lighting, the ambiance of knowledge to be gained.

I don't need to buy a book since I'm rereading "The Bluest Eye" by Toni Morrison right now. But I'm sorely tempted to buy a magazine. And there's so many of them available and helpfully organized by section. Women's general interest and beauty. Women's fitness. Travel and leisure. Entertainment and music. News. Sports. Men's general interest.

And then , last but not least, stuck over in the corner, the plastic-lined magazines with black plastic things in front of them so that we can only see the titles. Ta-da! It's the porn section!

I'm really wondering, who exactly is buying porn at the airport? I mean, have you ever sat next to someone who put down their little tray table and busted open an issue of Hustler or Black Tail? Playgirl?

Thankfully I have not.

So do people buy the porn and then stuff the mags in their carry on so they can salivate over the pictures later on? And why are the magazines covered with plastic? After all, I can browse Vanity Fair to see if I want to get it, but a porn buyer just has to take his or her chances.

I guess a naked body is all that's required.

If you have ever purchased porn in an airport before, let me know the 411. Did you read on the plane or surreptitiously stuff it in your bag next to your copy of Newsweek?

And with that, ladies and gentleman, I'm headed to NYC, porn free.

Trash, Cosmotrash and Glamourous Trash...Thank God It's Friday

I don't know about you but my week's felt seriously long. Dealing with trash, bees, a lock down at my kids school yesterday afternoon right at dismissal...ugh!

If you're unfamiliar with lock downs, that's what happens when an armed bandit is running around the neighborhood. The cops call the school and tell them to lock all the doors so that no one comes inside and shoots anybody.

Helicopters were circling overhead as I sprinted to the school. Fortunately, I got to there right when they were about to shut the doors so I got locked inside instead of outside.

We were locked up for a good twenty minutes before the "all clear" was given. I went and got my son who wanted to know if I'd seen the bad guys. Um, no. Fortunately not. Of course, on our way home we strolled our way past trash and bee central -- and suddenly, I heard a voice behind me. It was the assistant principal at the school and he was talking to someone about getting everything cleaned up! Whoo hoo! Is that good news or what? See, all y'all who checked the "keep dreaming" option on my poll just needed to have a little more faith.

Happy about this development, and eternally grateful to Alejandra in Eric Garcetti's office, I came home and got to talking to a friend who suggested that I take that Myers Briggs personality test over again. She wanted to see how my personality's changed since I've been working from home and being the neighborhood vigilante. Last year, I was an INFP - an "Introverted Intuitive Feeling Perceiving" person. This meant that I was supposedly a "healer" type. And my, "tranquil, reserved exterior masks a passionate inner life". I could also find the good in anyone and devote myself selflessly to a cause.

I guess all that's over since I'm now an ISFP , an "Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving" person. I've also switched from being a "healer" type to being an "artisan" type. Now I'm lighthearted, easygoing and completely in tune with all my senses. One site told me that essentially, I've gone from being Mother Teresa's apprentice to being Jacqueline Onassis. I guess that's a good thing. But, then again, yet another place said that this is the "crackpot" personality. Great.

Or maybe someone is trying to turn me into a crackpot. For example, did you know that the October issue of Glamour magazine is it's "1st annual figure flattery issue"?

Yeah, I didn't know that either until a copy of the 340 page glossy mysteriously arrived in my mailbox yesterday. My name and address are on the label, but I have not subscribed.

Perhaps it's a gift from someone? Yeah, someone who wants to turn me into a dumb bimbo! Someone who thinks I need to learn, "101 Ways to Dress Your Body Better" and, "39 Sexy Things To Do With Your Hair".

I'll admit, in my efforts to get bees removed and trash cleaned up around my neighborhood, I have probably been slacking in the hot, sexy hair department. Yes, maybe the owner of the corner store down the hill is sick of seeing me with my hair slicked back into a granny bun and so decided to gift me with a subscription.

Or maybe someone somehow found out about the bowl of Breyer's Triple Chocolate ice cream that I ate the other night and now thinks I need to brush up on, "The Secret Reasons Women Gain Weight and How to Stop". Or maybe someone figured I needed to lighten up a bit and read all about, "The Guys Who Can't Stop Fantasizing About You".

Really, are women supposed to care about stupid crap like this? Just imagine, if I was focused so much on fantasies and the, "12 Things No One Ever Tells You About Sex," then there might not be people cleaning up the mess by my son's school right now.

**Update: It must have been wishful thinking on my part. I just came back from the school and nothing's cleaned. But they put some pesticide on the tree where the bees came out. Oh, and my son's teacher only got paid $10 because LAUSD screwed up the checks. Nothing like working for a whole month and then getting paid $10!**

So yes, after all this "trash" I think I'm going curl up on my couch tonight, watch some movies and order some red curry with tofu from my favorite Thai restaurant in LA, Leela Thai.

Yum.

I'll leave you with a song that's appropriate given the week I've had. I used to have quite a lovely collection of techno records. One of them, "Cosmotrash", was by an artist called Trashman. I have fond memories of dancing to this back in '92/'93 at the old Kaboom nightclub in Chicago. Unfortunately, someone stole the record from me in '96 and I've never been able to get another copy. So, imagine my surprise at finding it on YouTube last night! And isn't it a wonderful thing that I'm tech savvy enough to know how to rip the audio?

Take a listen - don't be scared, it's a great record to dance to. It's a very Friday night record. Back in the day I used to speed it up considerably on my turntables. Hmm...I wonder what my personality type was back then?