Buffet-Impaired.

Look, not everyone can handle a buffet-type situation. Frankly, it's all a bit overwhelming, especially to those of us with few talents in the culinary arena. During a buffet changeover between say, breakfast and lunch, at a buffet that offers "twenty stations from around the world", how can one be expected to construct a cohesive plate from the bevy of options available?! Shellfish, Chinese, bacon, macaroons, BBQ... It's all too much. Everything must be sampled with as few trips around the room as possible. Can one be blamed for hooking up some French toast with sushi roll?

Well, can I?

Real Talk.

Those of us who are avid reality TV show viewers know that, with stakes as high as hittin' it with Bret Michaels, the pressure is on. Oftentimes, contestants feel "fustrated". This often causes them to "bring it", because their objective is to "take it to the next level" since they are "not here to make friends."

Shows I willingly admit to having watched and enjoyed:
1. Average Joe
2. Joe Millionaire (anything with "Joe" in the title will do)
3. The Pick Up Artist (AMAZING)
4. Groomer Has It (searching for the best dog groomer in the USA - for some reason, I kept calling it "Groomer Knows Best")

Shows I am sad to have missed:
1. America's Next Muppet
2. Trick my Trucker (!)
3. Fat March

How Not to Win Big in Vegas.

1. Play four rounds of multi-hand video blackjack. Freak out that you just lost $28 in 3 minutes. Stop playing.

2. Seek out the same exact Wheel of Fortune slot machine that paid out $200 to you like 7 years ago. Pump quarters into it, refusing to believe that the same luck shouldn't strike twice.

3. Resort to playing penny slots, even though you have no idea what's going on or what the bets are/what the payout could be. Rejoice when you win big - twice - to the tune of SIX DOLLARS PROFIT. Wonder why you didn't start here and come out $12 richer from your trip to Sin City, instead of about 80 bucks lighter.

4. Consider sitting through a two-hour time-share pitch for the chance to score "free" tickets to Rita Rudner. A gamble if there ever was one.

Cirque du Sol-shhhh.

There are many delightful varieties of theater-goer: the Snacker, the Seat-Kicker, Darth Vader (the heavy breather). Let's add to the list the Stater of the Obvious.

Last night, this guy behind us narrated every bit of action going on onstage. "No way - I can't believe that guy's going to take those people's tickets and pretend to rip them up! That guy's dressed like a lizard. Those two dudes are strong: that one just lifted that other one up! A giant snail just came up out of the stage. Check out the unit on that guy." [this was Cirque du Soleil, hence the French Canadian weirdness]. This would have been great had any of his companions or we been sight-impaired. This was not the case.

Real Hosebeasts.

I don't really know how it happened, and I'm not proud, but I ended up watching "Real Hosebeasts of NYC". Don't judge. Only I may pass judgment upon the hideous, shrill, self-righteous, delusional ladies on this show. Have you seen it? Long story short, a bunch of horrible women (some of whom are neither Housewives, nor Real) get together, act catty toward one another, and hash out such idiotic problems as who has the more decrepit husband and why didn't so-and-so show up to my dumbass party for d-wads?

My question is, are they in on the joke? They have to know they are being presented in the shallowest, most horrible light ever, right? That these invented situations are designed to showcase their shortcomings as humans, yes? Or are they so delusional that they think they look good while it's all the other hosebeasts on the show who look petty and delusional? That one's husband is super-gay, right? And that other one whose husband is alleged royalty: she started out as a high-priced call girl, correct? Also, who's grosser: this group or the hooches in the Orange County version? Discuss.

I hate these shows that showcase women for being total morons. Please help me to heal. And change the channel.

Babble-on.

What is it about business situations that drives people to start speaking in corporate-babble? Why is it suddenly mandatory to start peppering one's speech with sports metaphors, non-sequiturs and made-up words ("incentivize", anyone?)?

Today, this woman was describing a favorable idea as being one for the "front of the bus." What the hell does that mean? Is this some kind of homage to/defacing of Rosa Parks? Was she condoning a return to segregation on public transportation? Like, good ideas get to be in the front, bad ideas in the back? Racist! Or was she likening her mind to a bus? Why would you do that? Pick something a little more streamlined, at least. Come on.

Front of the bus? I'm not sure if this lady ever rode the bus, but the last time I was on there, the front of the bus was not exactly the Shangri-La. It was populated by a guy with one leg, two old ladies and three teenage girls who refused to yield their seats to said old ladies, all of whom were wearing wigs in varying stages of dishevelment.

Totally in my Face.

What's with these people who need to be all up in your zone? If you're talking to me and you're not married to me or at least a good friend, TAKE A STEP BACK. I thought I was going to lose an eye today while talking to this woman and her flailing limbs, since she insisted on standing 2 inches away from me. Back it up, lady, or I'm liable to Mace you. I can't be held responsible. The worst is the personal space violator who could use a hot date with a toothbrush and some mouthwash. Have a mint or step away: it's your choice.

I'm pretty sure this is what precipitated the midget riot that took place yesterday at a poorly executed "America's Next Top Model" open casting in New York City. Peeps were all up in each other's business, and you know these shorties (no one over 5'7", please) were rockin' some stank breath after sleeping out on the sidewalk overnight. Is it any wonder things turned ugly? And as fellow dwarf Bre from Cycle 5 once said, "God don't like ugly."

Drakkar-No.

Attention, dudes: it's not hot when I'm half a block away from you and can taste your cologne. As Aminat from this cycle of "ANTM" says, it's what might be deemed "questionable behavior."

If I can smell you before I see you, there's an issue. No matter what you're actually wearing, your odor conjures up images of you clad in Zubaz, smothered in Dippity-Do and sporting a Sinbad tour t-shirt. If that's the profile you're looking to project, then bravo. If not, do us all a favor and ditch the Hai Karate for good.

Ty-rah.

When a friend told me Tyra Banks was going to be on Oprah tomorrow, my head exploded. Which might also happen to Tyra when she shares the spotlight with the woman she. would. like. to. be. It also might have the same effect on Oprah: who knows how she'll react when faced with a drag queen impersonator of herself?!

Watching this might get a little confusing for the viewers at home: which one is Oprah? Tyra's been working on her Oprah impression for the past couple of years and has the strange. halting. way. of. speaking. and the ability to take a topic, any topic, and make it all about her, down pat.

Evidently, Tyty Baby is going on to talk about some sort of "personal" experience with the subject of dating violence. This better not mean that Tyra donned a bruise suit for one day and now thinks she knows what the hell she's talking about when it comes to domestic abuse. She's already trivialized the trials of the overweight and homeless with her previous "undercover" let's-don-a-fat-suit or pretend-to-be-homeless FOR A DAY endeavors: please, spare us this and concentrate on doing what you do best, Tyra: humiliating model wannabes on national TV.

Trash Can-Do!

How hard is it to put trash out just prior to trash day? If you live in my building, it's almost impossible.

I'm pretty sure the place must be zoned as independent living for the cognitively impaired. How else to explain that without fail, all of the trash cans outside on the side of the building are nearly full two days after trash pick-up? Garbage pick-up is one day and week and guess what? It's the same day every week. How about putting your stinkin' trash out on that day so I don't have to walk past it for a week and smell your stank mess?

Better yet, how about actually putting it into the trash cans? You've taken it all the way downstairs, outside and in the general vicinity of covered containers constructed specifically for the purpose of holding refuse. Go that extra mile and place your bag inside the can instead of leaning the bag (which will be ripped apart by rats and pigeons) against said can. Go ahead, challenge yourself! You can do it!

Springtime Stank.

There's nothing quite like taking a stroll on a springtime tease of a day, heady with the unaccustomed freedom of perambulating about clad in fewer than 14 layers of clothing, and taking a deep breath and inhaling... rank cigar smoke.

While out and about on this weekend, I encountered no fewer than 10 unaffiliated dudes puffing on stogies all within a 20 minute period. Thanks for ruining my first taste of springtime with your big, honking, stank mess. 1996 called and it wants its stupid, Arnold Schwarzenegger-fueled fad back. When I run for President, my platform is going to be 8 weeks paid vacation for all and the outlaw of both cigars and every Bon Jovi song ever recorded. Who smokes them, anyway? Fat Republicans, George Burns and drunk-ass sorority girls at a wedding.

Cigars are by far the most disgusting smoking-related smell. From most to least offensive, the list breaks down like this:
1. Cigars
2. Skunk
3. Cigarettes
4. Weed of the non-skunk variety
5. Pipe
6. Cloves

Who disagrees?

Cine-mastication.

There are many things that should be verboten in a movie theater: smoking, cellphones, infants. Let's add food to that list, too, shall we?

How hard is it to like, not eat for two hours? Is it really necessary to cram a whole box of Jr. Mints into your mouth? Maybe, if you have Type 1 Diabetes. But here's a tip: undoing the cellophane on the box excruciatingly slowly does not make the process any quieter. Just rip it off and get on with your life.

Also, why do they sell popcorn at the movies? It's the food equivalent of Styrofoam packing kernels. THAT'S NOT A PLEASANT SOUND. And eating popcorn with one's mouth open (which accounts for 98% of the population sitting around me in a movie theater) creates an echo chamber which amplifies the sound about a billion times.

P.S. If you're gonna bring a snack from home, how about NOT MAKING IT A SHRIMP BURRITO? Sheesh.

America's Next Top Mess.

Well, it's that time again. Oprah-in-training Tyra Banks unleashes the latest batch of model wannabes fresh from the bowels of Hot Topic with the latest "cycle" of America's Next Top Model. And I will watch. Even though this show easily peaked 10 cycles ago (which is like 4 months in Top Model time) during the Shanthrax years, I'm still compelled to tune in.

But next cycle, forget it. Tyra's latest gambit is that no model over 5'7" need apply,which effectively erases the "Model" part of ANTM, leaving us with simply America's Next Top, which is a different show altogether.

Seriously - a height limit? Are there now no requirements whatsoever for being on this show other than a willingness to be in close proximity to Miss J. and the ability to resist the urge to flee a room containing James St. James? What's next? Only girls missing a few teeth will be considered? America's Next Top Crone? Maybe that dude made out of tree bark over on TLC should toss his hat into the ring.

Tyty seems to be grasping at straws. Let's get back to the days when the models actually vaguely resembled models, were forced to do outlandish things like work out, smoked up a storm, had eating disorders and hung out with select members of the Wu Tang Clan. You know, like on Make Me a Supermodel. Hmmm...

Should I convert? Is anyone else still watching ANTM? Are me and Benny Ninja the only ones left on this godforsaken sinking ship?

You be Illin'.

This uplifting little ad appeared in my inbox yesterday. Gee, thanks, Discovery Health. I needed some more nonsense to needlessly worry about.

It's probably for some gross show where they chronicle bizarre afflictions; I don't even want to know. Because to me, it's more like, hey, you know that headache you got during your annoying 2 hour conference call today? It means YOU'RE PROBABLY GONNA DIE. Got the sniffles? It's not because it's 12 degrees out: most likely, IT'S A DEADLY STRAIN OF EBOLA. Post-nasal drip? NICE KNOWING YA. Jerks.

Ope-Folks

Oprah's what, like a zillionaire? Today, her show (which for the record, I have not seen since she was locked in a head-to-head trash battle with Geraldo Rivera back in the '80s) was about not buying crap. Simplify your life, save your dough, blah blah blah.

Ope offered up three especially choice tidbits during the broadcast:
1) She packs her lunch, then gloats to her longtime live-in whatever, Stedman, about having saved 7 bucks
2) She sees a penny, picks it up. Like she needs more good luck?
3) She saves toast. As in, if she toasts a piece of bread and doesn't want it, she saves it until the next day and then re-toasts it, thereby making it "even toastier"

Oprah, let's be real: we kind of know you're rich. The secret's out! You don't have to pretend to be one of us plebeians, clipping coupons, using expired-but-still-smells-OK milk, trying to keep the cold out with the duct tape and plastic sheeting Homeland Security told us to buy in 2003.

Leave some pennies on the sidewalk for the rest of us to pick up.