Running in Flats....ahhh, so much easier.

What I'm Listening To: Ask Her to Dance by Coconut Records

Writing a blog is tough. If you have kinda a dull life, like me, sometimes it's a trial to think up stuff to write about. A lot (two words, Hesper!) has transpired in the last week, but not all of it lends itself to a blog topic. Maybe I should let my readers vote. Okay, so what do you think about how I borrowed some old Electric Company episodes on DVD from the library, and had myself a little nostalgia fest earlier this week. Or that my tooth has been sorta aching all week, and how I've never had a root canal and don't ever want one. Or that I went out on a pub crawl on Friday, and never made it past midnight because I got overserved. Or my happy hour on Thursday. Or watching Saturday Night Live, with Zac Efron. All are somewhat interesting, but not sure how much I could elaborate. So.

How about this? I follow this reality show, Running in Heels about these three interns who work at Marie Claire magazine. It's a guilty pleasure, kinda like all my television habits. And my reading habits, because at Casa Reagan we get like 12 different magazines -- Vanity Fair, Lucky, New Yorker, Time, Radar (before they went under, excellent, btw), and of course, Marie Claire, just to name a few. So since I get the magazine, hey, natch, I'm gonna watch the show. Because I'm a glutton for visual punishment.

Anyway, this show makes me roll my eyes so much I'm afraid they're gonna get stuck up there. Let me tell you about this lil ladies, all who just left college like a millisecond ago. Talita is the one with the dark hair to her waist. First off, who has hair to their waist anymore? Christ, I think even Crystal Gayle cut hers already. Get with it, Talita! Also, Miss T is from California, as if you couldn't tell by her thick surfer accent. It kinda goes with her fish pout. Nice. Along with her tiny chihuahua, Chanel (duh! What did you think she was gonna name her accessory dog? Wrangler? Snort!), Talita is pretty much a cliche.

Then there's Ashley. Oh, brother. She thinks she's like this big-ass player backstabber, but she's just trying waaaay too hard. I think she has a journalism background, but who knows? She's better at being petty and bitter and gossipy, so there goes all that good writing talent. Oh wait, everyone knows writers are petty and bitter and gossipy. Just look at your favorite blogger here. No, not Perez Hilton, bitches. Whatevs. So, bottom line, Ashley needs an attitude adjustment to the sunny side of the street.

Finally, there's Samantha. I'm thinking I'll give her a free pass on the judgements, because she's from Wisconsin. Uh, no. She doesn't seem to know the first thing about fashion magazines -- maybe she hasn't been reading them since she was a zygote like the other two -- and she can't write a decent fashion or lifestyle article, either. Hello? Everyone knows that when you write a feature article the most important part is the LEAD!! My lesbian journalism professor drummed that into us like every frickin' day at Madison. (Hi Professor Lauders!! Hope you like my blog!!!) And her boyfriend Kenny (come on, his name is Kenny? Did they make that up?) looks like a baby monkey. I will admit, though, that Sam is my favorite because she's trying to bluff her way through the daily birdseed that is Ashley and Talita, and doing okay with it.

Really, I have no right to judge these girls. I mean, back in the dinosaur ages when I was in journalism school I would have given my left titten for an internship at a big NYC fashion magazine, so these girls must have some inkling of talent to be selected to join the bigwigs over at MC. But their whining, backstabby and frankly ridiculous behavior makes me doubt if they could ever find jobs on their own. I mean, is this really what fashion magazine interns look like? Is this really how they behave? Or are the cameras manipulating everything, just like every other reality show, so this is kinda a keyed-up version of real life? I don't know about you, but if there was a camera on me all day long, I'd be the most self-conscious person imaginable. And I wouldn't be giving myself extra wrinkles trying to act like an airhead, or a sulky baby, to get viewers to sympathize with me. I'd probably be hiding behind a book or cowering in the bathroom.

What I really am intrigued by is the whole "frenemies" phenomenon among these ladies. So being frenemies means you act all nice to their face and then behind their back you badmouth them. Now, I'm not saying that I haven't done that myself, I mean, what woman hasn't? Not every one of your friends is going to do and say everything to your liking, and they are going to want to talk about it behind your back. But this group has the burden of having to work together and live together, so they have no choice but to be civil to each other, as well as have a camera in their face all day, so there you go with a valid explanation of their sad behavior.

But in the real world, where you get to go home to your own place at night, I think the whole frenemies thing might be a little different. Female friendships can take many shapes, some of them fun and some of them are just irritating, like sand in your swimsuit. And some of them can be really beautiful and supportive, like a sister, and then they make movies about worn-out jeans and quilting and magnolias about you.

Here's hoping you get a movie made about your own female friendships, or at least an internship reality show at Cosmo! :) (Seriously, though, can you imagine a Cosmo internship? They probably have hourly orgies between the lingerie photo shoots and self-help articles! Whoohooooo!!!!)