The Chronicles Of Jessica

I had to take down my last entry about the untimely end of my most recent job, because I was working real hard at trying to find ANOTHER job, and I realized that if anyone did an internet search on me, that would be the first thing to pop up. I haven't yet figured out how to make myself sound appealing to potential employers and tell the truth at the same time. But I can't really feel too bad; if it's a problem for me imagine what Robert Blake must be going through. The "Beretta" reunion show must just seem to him like a shining unreachable star.

I've found myself watching a lot of trash t.v. lately, on account of my new roomate Mel. She loves the stuff. Actually I suspect that she just really enjoys the boob tube no matter what's on but I've failed to test this theory since I realized recently that our precious pirated cable doesn't include C-Span or the country music network. Anyway, last night I got sucked into "America's Top Model." It made me want to throw anthrax at all the participants, it was so awful.

Basically, each of the prospective models (or 'head cases') has to compete in a challenge every week in order to progress to the next level of the contest. This week they each had to do a photo shoot with Janice Dickinson, who is apparently a former model who now earns her living as a photographer. (I guess being a sniping Botox harpy in lip gloss is just a hobby for Jan.)

Janice oozed around for the entire show, alternately yelling at and making faux homoerotic advances towards the contestants. Why no one took it upon themselves to punch her lights out, I really cannot say. But Janice would have been equally within her rights to want to maim one of them, because they were the biggest group of insufferable stuck-up hoors that I've ever seen in one place. They whined, they complained, they wept openly. They criticized one another's ass fat, they crowed over non-existent wrinkles. They were ridiculously unlikeable; the only one I could remotely even stand was the plus-sized girl, and it was probably only because she didn't seem to speak much english. And of course the plus-size girl got kicked off in the end. Please, don't let me get me started on the fallacy of the plus-sized modelling phenomenon. Serenity now!

I mean really, is it just me or is television unbearably horrible? It makes me want to drink Pledge or something. I know I'm risking sounding like a sad old lady, longing for the good old days, but I remember when there was all kinds of good stuff on to watch on tv. And if they didn't have anything at least halfway decent to put on, the network would just throw up that funny screen with the vertical colored bars on it and call it a night. I don't know, I always looked to those colored bars as a sort of personal instruction. If I couldn't sleep in the middle of the night and there wasn't anything on to watch, well I'd know that was God's way of saying read a book.

Sigh. Everything changes. It can really get to you. They're (and by "they" I mean The Man) are always trying to improve on stuff that really just did not need fixing. What's with all the fake fruit in cereal, for example? Special K with real strawberries! Um, I think not. (Real strawberries come off of a vine and stain your white linen dress after you accidentally ingest too much champagne while you're trying to eat sexily in front of your hot cousin at the family wedding buffet table. Ask me how I know.)If you want fruit, can't you just cut it up onto the cereal like a normal person? We're so strapped for time we can't manage that amount of effort? Eventually they'll probably give us a little plastic wrapped 'fruit patch', we'll just adhere it to one butt cheek and that will be the end of it. All your essential vitamins and minerals for the day.

I went along with popcorn from the microwave and I gave in to compact disc technology, but things are getting out of hand. I do long for the good old days.

I like that old time rock and roll.

I need to regroup. If anyone knows where I can get a sweet deal on some Happy Days dvds, give me a shout.