Why Can't My Life Be Like Reality TV?

Then I'd at least get to be a famewhore in addition to suffering from mylifesucksitis, instead of just being plagued by the latter. If my life were like reality tv, I'd sit here and all the assignments and study and dishwashing and feelings of lazy and unwashed hair and cold tea and piles of laundry and unpaid bills and people to call back would still drain me of any motivation for, you know, existing right now, but people would actually sit there and watch me suffer. They might even suffer alongside me. They'd tune in to see if I might fall into a woe-induced coma. And then they'd leap onto a forum and start pulling for me to rise above it and emerge victorious/bitching about how I'm a lazy slob who has no-one to blame but herself and that my hair is absolutely disgusting to boot.

If my life were like So You Think You Can Dance, right now I'd be sobbing about how tired I am and how hard this assignment is and how much harder it is for me to grasp, what with being so burdened with my life's multitude of difficulties. I'd keep the whining to a minimum (so as to not be a complete douche. That's more apt for when my life is like Big Brother) but amp up the sympathetic-victim-who-valiantly-tries-and-aims-to-succeed vibes (so as to win underdog votes). There'd be a lot of shots of me working on the assignment, grinning ruefully when I accidentally screw up the Word document template and meticulously saving after each word that I type ("I'm so scared of losing it all, so I'm being extra careful this week- better safe than sorry!"). At the end of my montage, I'd have a laugh with my partner, who has already completed the assignment but is playing the role of All Around Nice Person Whom Everyone Loves, so is goodnaturedly helping me out with their, no doubt, flawless research technique and mad typing skills. And scene. I mean, autocue.

Also, if my life were really like SYTYCD, I'd totes be hanging with Demi and Rhys and not giving two fucks about this shit. Evidence Based Practice assignment, be damned!

When Life Gets You Down...

...you try to think of better times. It gets a little more challenging when you realise that these so-called 'better times' have been so few and far between that you pretty much can't remember any right now. Then, you have to go and weep a little and vent some and generally curse all those stupid idiots at Windy Hill because, damnit, you have INVESTED in them and it frickin' HURTS when they let you down!

Unless you're me. In which case, you don't give too much of a fuck because you've come to expect it and besides, you tipped against those idiots anyway, so if they had somehow pulled a miracle out of their collective arses, you'd have LOST THE FIRST TIP OF THE WEEK and with the way your atrocious tipping is going, you really can't afford that to happen. Besides, the continuing travesty of all this just hammers home the stupidity of the execs' decision to rid themselves of one wildly loved, tubby loon of a coach last year and yank some mong-faced almost-ginger in. THEY'RE STILL LOSING, SO NYAH!

In short: bleh. And then meh.

And then?

Well, you naturally turn your attention to the much more exciting contest of the week: the finale of So You Think You Can Dance Australia!

OMG!!1!awwsum!!like, yea!!11!jack iz sooo hawt i wanna hav his babiez! LOLZ!!1!

I think we can all agree that Jack is probably going to win this and if he does, I wouldn't hate him for it because earlier in the competition, I quite wanted to have his babies. Of late, his 'humble young kid' act hasn't been sitting right with me though, so I've switched sides. I'm all about Rhys' babies now! Oh, Fey One, I'll be your fairy any day. And if he won't have me, I have my sights set on Demi. I can totes swing that way too, cutie!

In short: yay for the gay.

Finally, what y'all should be watching is episode 9 of season 3 of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, entitled Sweet Dee's Dating a Retarded Person.

You. Will. Laugh. Your. Botox. Out.

What can I say? Male rape connotations + Charlie = hilarity. "it might seem wrong but it’s just right".

Long live the Night/Day Man.