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What’s the Deal with Thomas Yates on House of Cards?

10 Apr

Thomas Yates is a writer.  He’s supposedly a profound writer.  He’s written a bestselling novel called Scorpio.  (The book was based on Tom’s experiences selling sex and company to older men for money.)  He’s lauded by millions as the novelist of the twenty-first century.  He’s the writer of a generation.  He’s also a fictional character on the Netflix original series, House of Cards.  He’s also boring as hell.  Yet, people keep schtupping him on the show.  First it was Kate Baldwin, a Pulitzer-winning journalist for the fictional Wall Street Telegraph.  Next, it seems like it was Frank Underwood (looking back at season 3 when the two held hands).  Then, it was Clair Underwood herself. What’s the deal with Tom Yates?  Why does everyone succumb to his seduction?

Tom is kind of boring.  Here he is, looking very bored and sad at a book signing.

Boring Tom yates

Here he is drinking a very boring whiskey with the President.

yates and underwood

Tom is apparently a very deep thinker…

Tom Staring Off.jpg

He’s a low talker also.  What’s you deal, Tom?

I’m sorry…what was that again?

The Sentinel GIF.gif

But how does Frank feel about Tom?  What is the deal with Tom?

He Should Stay On.gif

Tom can give Claire what Frank cannot.  That D tho…that D.

 

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Messages Like These Are Why I Deleted My Tinder Account

8 Jan

Tinder scares me.  I deleted my account a few months ago, but I never experienced any benefit from this alleged dating app.  Dating? SMH.  Tinder is nothing more than a digital glory hole for the worst of the worst people.  Are you looking for a horrible person to date?  Get on Tinder.  Are you looking for a night of semi-anonymous erotic embarrassment in a large metropolitan area to which you will never return?  Please, use Tinder.  Enjoy yourself.  Tinder is only one notch above Craigslist, and the only way of knowing you had a successful Craigslist transaction is not getting decapitated.

The texts that follow almost speak for themselves.  I changed this person’s phone number to the moniker “Red Flag” in order to be fair.  Is this normal?  Is this what men are supposed to be like?

Red Flag Text #1

He wants to know how tall I am.  I guess that’s normal enough.  But wait, uh-oh.  He wants recent pictures that are “fully transparent,” which makes no sense.  I indulge him further with an innocent inquiry:

Red Flag Text #2

Yes, he has met women who are older or more overweight than he thought initially.  It’s official.  This individual is shallow. Immediately offended, I tell him I am not old or obese.  Then he tells me that “visibility and transparency” are what he provides.  Bitch, I don’t want to know anything much about you.  Don’t flatter yourself.

Red Flag Text #3

“That sounds so businesslike” may be interpreted as “You sound like Patrick Bateman.”  I did not say “You sound like Patrick Bateman” because this man did not strike me as being a reader.

“And that sounds evasive” is obviously the sign of a potential killer laying in wait.  I stop texting him completely.  The unprovoked texts begin.  He tells me that “most people just answer with “sure””.  Once again, I am not most people and I already decided that I don’t like you. BYE.

Red Flag Text #4

He thinks that because I am a writer, I should have so many things to say.  Little does he know, he is writing a story for me by continuing to text me.  “Why are you scared?” he asks, completely randomly and unprovoked.  Because you are clearly insane.

And finally, the cherry on top:

Red Flag #5

A selfie sent exactly one month after the “Why are you scared?” text.  This is why I am scared.

Goodbye Tinder!!! Auf wiedersehen!!! Ciao!!! Au revoir!!!

 

 

Listen to My Interview on Nick Has A Poolhouse

21 Sep

Hello Fixed Air readers!!

Recently, my good friend and fellow stand up comedian Nick Kaufman had me as a guest on his podcast, Nick Has A Poolhouse.

Nick asks me about how having a bad set can affect my mood, how my parents’ marriage influences my the state of my current romantic relationship, why I get sad sometimes, and one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

Please take a listen through any of the links below:

http://goo.gl/NtPRT0

https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/nick-has-a-poolhouse-a-podcast/id641881902

http://westcastnetwork.com/nick-has-a-poolhouse-2/

Please like Nick Has A Poolhouse on Facebook and subscribe on iTunes!!

Nick Has A Poolhouse Photo

Dating in 2014 is the Worst Ever

20 Sep

As if! Clueless

Dating is not what it used to be.  The current state of our digital-centric world is causing the possibility of meeting someone dwindling to a near-impossibility.  Here are some of the problems I’ve noticed with dating that have begun to kick in during the last year or so:

1.  Your Plans Are Dead, Don’t Bother

Want to make plans with someone?  Do you want to invite that cute guy in the glasses to an art show or dinner?  Forget it, because the days of making and keeping plans are long gone.  In a time where everyone gets invited to events via Facebook or other social media outlets, making a date (and then keeping it) is nearly impossible.  Hey ladies, get ready to make a date – with your cat!  Am I right?

2. They Got That Text Message

Yes, that person is ignoring you right now.  Yes, it’s awful.  They’re probably awful too.  Stop thinking about that person.  Texting has made the act of ignoring someone all too easy.  We also now have the added misery of the “read receipt” which shows that someone has read your text.  If you have an iPhone, you can see when someone is typing a response to you, and it’s causing many of us to have bouts of extreme anxiety.  No one picks up a GD phone anymore and makes an actual phone call.  Voices? We don’t need those anymore.  We might as well cut out our voiceboxes and throw them into the abyss along with your dead dating life.

3. Commitment? Blah.

No one wants to commit to anything anymore.  People cannot commit to simple meetings and they certainly cannot commit to being there for someone emotionally, mentally, or in any other way.  Things people can commit to: Twitter, Instagram, swiping right on Tinder, not making eye contact with strangers, bad manners, and weekly poker games.

4. Nothing Matters But A Narcissist

Studies have shown that narcissism is appearing in high rates in the millenial generation.  Naturally, the booming popularity of the “selfie” and the increased focus that millenials place on themselves in nearly every aspect of their lives will lead to disappointment in the dating arena.  Please take this example of a guy who posted a screenshot of his bank account balance on Tinder to attract women.  Please note that it is a business account, which means that the money is possibly not even all his, but most importantly, please note his shallow existence and the belief that money will give him a personality.  Please refer to Cher Horowitz’s reaction above.

5. People Lie About Everything to Impress You

Did you know that people lie about nearly everything and their motives are not always nice?  It’s true – men will say anything to get some pussy, and I am sure there are women who lie in the same ways.  I am talking about people lying about their age, their occupation or income, or what they want from a relationship.  How can you distinguish a liar from a truth-teller?  Only time will show whether someone is honest.  Unfortunately, my years of going to psychics have proven nothing about the ability of someone to see the future.  I am no longer seeing psychics.

Good luck out there!!

Why Tinder is the Bane of Our Society and Needs to Die

6 May

tinder-logo

Tinder is an alleged “dating” app that allows people to troll for D and P in their local area.  By “D” and “P,” surely you will know what I mean unless you are completely innocent or some type of Mormon or an Amish person who accidentally stumbled onto this blog.  (Although for the Amish that would be quite a feat. Welcome.)

Anywho, I had a very lame experience with Tinder quite recently.  To make a long story short, I have been seeing the same guy for a a pretty long period of time now, and I like him very much.  However, due to reasons beyond my control, we are not consciously exclusive in our relationship at this time. (Please spare telling me what I already know.)  As I sat on the barstool in this bar, the girl next to me started a conversation about men.  I said that I had been seeing someone.  She asked what he looked like. I obliged.  The words that next fell from her mouth left me in a stupor: “He sent me a message on Tinder.”

WTF.  This is what raced through my mind as I sat there like an idiot, looking at this guy’s face.  I am an idiot. 

Okay, so do not panic.  Do not panic.  You’re panicking.  I thought about what I should do.  Should I confront him? Should I say anything at all? First I took a shot of tequila and pretended that everything was okay.  Everything is not okay!  Think about this.

I managed to not say anything for almost 24 hours.  I consider myself to be the David Blaine of relationship self-control after achieving that feat.  We discussed and resolved the issue.  I realized that I cannot be too critical unless we are in an exclusive relationship, and really, I should be striking out on Tinder myself.

I simply downloaded Tinder to see what the fuss was about, and quite honestly, Tinder is trash.  You can spot a weirdo on there almost right away, and like almost any other online dating resource, Tinder seems to be delegated to the ultra-awkward and ultra-douchebaggy anyway.  One guy spent way too much of his energy talking about my lips.  It was really gross and showed me why he’s probably on Tinder to troll women.  Tinder is not for people who like meeting in natural settings.  Tinder is for wannabe sluts, plain and simple.

But really, what are the odds of my little encounter?  Tinder is basically pitting every single person in vast metropolitan areas against one another in a never-ending attempt to get laid.  There are over 16 million people in LA, and I ended up in one specific bar (which I frequent), sitting next to one girl (who I had never met before) and learning that this girl was hit on by a guy I was seeing.  To conclude: 1 city, 16 million people, 1 bar, 2 barstools, 2 women, 1 dick.  That is the reality of what Tinder is doing to this world.  It eliminates options before there is even the chance to meet someone in person.  Tinder is gross.

If Tinder continues to grow at the same rate, and if people continue to use the app to hook up or do whatever it is they use it for, there will be no one left. Everyone will be eliminated from dating and sex pool eligibility via Tinder.  Tinder is a Darwinist dating app.

Tinder, in its purest form, is the worst thing in American society at this time.  It is impersonal, disingenuous, and fleeting in a time at which personal connection is already dissolving.  I prefer to meet people organically and as my life unfolds.  Tinder is another way of forcing connection, and connection, as rare as it is today, is something that should come naturally.  Please, do your part, and ban Tinder.

This has been a public service announcement by Fixed Air.

Tim Molloy Reminds Me of My Father, and for That He Should Apologize

12 Jan

Lena Dunham. Photo by Terry Richardson.

I was about ten or eleven years old when my father said what is probably one of few things I remember him saying to me during my childhood.  I was sitting at the family computer, presumably working on my homework, when he came up to me, poked me in my stomach, and said, “you gotta lose that.”  This moment emblazoned itself into the back of my mind many years ago, and at any time I experience an insecurity about my body, I trace it back to this one defining moment.

I am sure that my father thought he was being helpful.  However, what he said in that moment has become the topic of $100 per hour therapy sessions, problems in my intimate relationships with men, and the lingering thought in the back of my head that no one will ever love me because of my stomach paunch.  If anything, this is one of the moments that further caused a lack of bonding between myself and my father, someone whom I speak to on a semi-regular basis due to his living thousands of miles away from where I am now.

There’s nothing more annoying than someone who feels the need to give you their opinion in regard to your body or the bodies of others, especially when it is unsolicited.  This appears to be something done primarily by men, but women are guilty as well.  Unless someone asks your opinion, the topic of their body should be completely verboten.

When Tim Molloy of The Wrap asked a question at a panel  at the Television Critics Association including Judd Apatow and Lena Dunham, the creators of the HBO show Girls, he attempted to breach the subject of the nudity of Lena Dunham’s character, Hannah Horvath.  Here’s what Tim had to say for himself:

I don’t get the purpose of all of the nudity on the show, by you particularly, and I feel like I’m walking into a trap where you go, ‘Nobody complains about the nudity on ‘Game of Thrones,’ but I get why they are doing it… They are doing it to be salacious and, you know, titillate people. And your character is often naked just at random times for no reason.

Yikes, where to begin.  It is obvious that Molloy’s statement is ultimately irrelevant, especially when Girls is entering a third season and enough backlash regarding Lena Dunham’s choice to appear nude in her own television show already unfolded in the last two years.  Additionally, Molloy is speaking directly about Dunham in particular, and not about any other actors appearing on the show.  His comments are meant to be a direct attack on a woman whose body is not considered perfect in the traditional sense.  And god forbid that such a woman be depicted nude in any manner.

Despite Molloy’s rude comment, Dunham’s response was rather diplomatic:

Yeah. It’s because it’s a realistic expression of what it’s like to be alive, I think, and I totally get it. If you are not into me, that’s your problem.

Dunham is aware of what she looks like and that she is not, nor will she ever be, a skinny Hollywood actress type.  I feel that Molloy’s question was nothing but clearcut trolling.  He knew the type of reaction that his question would garner and he obviously has little to no respect for Dunham.  Molloy’s opinion on Dunham’s body, and whether or not he wants to see it, is something he should keep to himself.  Judd Apatow reportedly later spoke with Molloy privately, letting him know that the “tenor” of his question was inappropriate, and ultimately, misogynistic.

Let’s be honest.  A lot of men should feel grateful that they are getting any sex at all.  There are countless men who feel they are entitled to be with models or women who look like models, but they are not pictures of Adonis themselves.  This hypocrisy leads to many imbalanced relationships and countless incidences of emotional and mental abuse. People also ultimately lose sight of what are important qualities in partners, such as emotional support, RESPECT, and a general sense of kindness and love.

When it comes down to it, the best method of broaching the subject of another human being’s body is to not broach the subject at all.  If someone is remotely overweight, they are completely aware.  The same goes for those who are underweight, or men who are frequenting the gym to build up their pecs and arms.  Everyone stands in front of the mirror and KNOWS what they look like.  This is not a mystery to anyone, so keep it to yourself.

Many people comment on how confident I appear in myself and with my body, but every so often my mind returns to those moments in which I was made to feel less than perfect, less than deserving.  Even the most confident of people have small insecurities, and the only logical thing is to try to be a better human and not hack open old wounds.

Oh So You Got Dumped? Get Over It.

12 Oct

Ugh, privilege.  It is everywhere.  There is privilege in the air, and in my grande caramel macchiato, and in the Anthropologie bag containing a lovely maxi skirt I purchased to wear to my privileged law firm job.  When will it end people?  When will privilege finally disappear!?!  The answer is never if you happened to stumble upon the most privileged blog entry of all time, written by someone who writes under the pseudonym “Brett Ashley”.  Appearing on Jezebel, the intriguingly-titled “The Most Fucked Up Things People Have Said to Me During My Break Up” is a privilege parade fit for the most prissy and self-indulgent people who walk the earth.  One would expect the fucked up things that people say to her to contain any of the following words and/or phrases:

“Maybe he dumped you because you’re fat.”

“You’re worthless without that relationship”

“You might as well just kill yourself now and get it over with.”

Mad As Hell

The reaction of everyone reading Brett Ashley’s blog post.

None of these things appear in the list of the most fucked up things people have said to Brett Ashley in the aftermath of her horrible, no good, very bad breakup.  Instead, these are the worst things people have said to Brett following her breakup:

“Maybe he’ll come back?” – a Friend

“You’re really hurting your personal brand with all this moping around.” – My [Female] Boss

“Please do not throw this relationship away; you only get love like this once in your life.” – My Mother

“You’re smart/pretty/young/funny/successful/interesting/outgoing/all of the above. You’ll find someone else, don’t worry.” – Almost Friggin’ Everyone

Once again, these are the “most fucked up things” that people have said to Brett Ashley since her breakup.  These things are not fucked up at all and are actually just people trying to be as nice as possible.  Instead, some of the actual fucked up things in this blog post come from the charming mind of Brett Ashley herself.

Some of the gems Brett has in her piece:

“…yes, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in my life, I have been dumped.”

It will probably happen again.  Better get used to it, Brett.

Or how about what she would like her parents to do for her in this oh so difficult time?

“Instead, how about: “We just want you to be happy – I know that’s probably hard right now. We love you so much. This must be very hard. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.” Or just send money. I may be an adult now, but I will never ever turn down financial contributions from my parents.”

Yikes.  Brett Ashley wants your money, Brett Ashley’s parents.

The only thing worse than this blog post of falsehoods is the description of the author appearing at the end:

Brett Ashley is a 28 year-old urban professional born in the southern United States who has been moving between major metropolitan cities ever since. She blogs under a pseudonym to protect the innocent (and not so), and has a penchant for bad television, good wine and Hemingway references.

Ugh, it just gets worse.  She likes bad television and good wine.  I cannot stand this person.  It has become more clear as to why the boyfriend may have broken up with this person.

In conclusion, things could be worse, Brett Ashley.  We have all been dumped.  But you could also be eating out of a trash can or be dead.  Think about it.

The Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Done: Saying Goodbye to My Best Friend

1 Sep
My favorite picture of Dave - tebowing at the Pueblo Riverwalk.

My favorite picture of Dave – Tebowing at the Pueblo Riverwalk.

The absolute worst moment of my life so far was the approximately ten minute phone call I received from the police on Saturday, July 13th.  The call explained why my best friend had never answered my multiple phone calls that week, nor shown up to our sushi date that past Wednesday night.

Robert Davidson Teeter was my best friend, confidant, shoulder to lean on, and the person I was closest to in this world.  He had also been my boyfriend for a long period of time, and kind of still my boyfriend when he passed away in July.  I do not know how else to define our relationship.  It was complicated, but we loved each other so much, and I hope he knew how much he truly meant to me.  I knew something was wrong when he never called me on Wednesday.  We had dinner plans to go to Musashi’s, a restaurant that he had begged to take me to for a while.  Dave never broke his plans with me, and when he failed to call or text on Wednesday, I was unsure of what to think.  Dave was one of those people who could disappear for a few days and no one would think anything of it when he resurfaced a few days later.  However, on this final occasion, my worst fears turned out to be true.

As I sit here, I am overwhelmed by the amount of things Dave will never be able to do.  He will never get to see New York City, which was his biggest dream.  He will never have children, and he will never have a wife.  We had made a pact to get married to one another in ten years if neither of us was married at that time.  I’ll never get to hold his hand, kiss his lips, or feel his embrace ever again. And yet, even though the sadness of those things is amplified by my current delicate state, I know that Dave would want for me to move on.  He would want me to pursue my dreams and have the life he wanted for me.  He’d want for me to fall in love again.  In the deepest part of my heart, I knew that Dave and I had a limited amount of time together.  Whether I knew that our time together would end in death, I am unsure.  At the end of June, I went on a trip to Vancouver and Seattle.  He called me the day before I left, saying that he was worried we’d never see each other again.  That he had some sort of eerie feeling.  My first thoughts went to the fact that I’d be traveling by plane.  My imagination took hold of me and I worried about dying in a terrific hellfire over the Pacific Northwest.  Even though we did see each other again, and spent as much time as possible together before he passed, I cannot help but think of the significance of what he said.

Even in the days leading up to the worst phone call I ever received, something was off. The Friday before the police called I was sitting at my desk at work and suddenly became inexplicably and overwhelmingly sad.  It was as though some strange feeling had taken over my body.  I was immensely distraught.  The next day, I went to Dave’s house and banged on the door as hard as I could.  There was no answer.  I thought about using my credit card to jimmy the door open as I had many times before, but something stopped me. I got the phone call a few hours later, not long after a deep wave of nausea overtook my body.

Everyone who knew him called him Dave, even though his first name was Robert.  He wasn’t a Robert at all; definitely a Dave.  He was so special and so unique.  He had so much love in his heart for so many people.  It was something I admired and tried to learn from.  I know that I will never know someone like him ever again.  We met during the summer of 2010 by chance.  A guy I had met at a bar invited me to hang out with some of his friends.  Dave was there.  A few weeks later, he asked a mutual friend for my number instead of asking me directly.  He texted me some time later, saying it was nice to meet me.  From there, our conversations grew, and we would sometimes spend hours on the phone talking.   That’s what I’ll miss the most about him.  The fact that he loved conversations with me, and that he asked me questions about my life, feelings, and hopes and dreams.  He was genuinely interested in me as a person, which is a quality that appears to be rare in such a convoluted and disconnected time.

We loved going to the movies together.  He hated when we saw “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”; he thought it was much too long.  The last movie we saw together was “Man of Steel”; he did not care for it as much as some others we had seen recently, including “World War Z”.  He liked that one a lot.  He was my go-to buddy for everything.  The only person who understood me in a sea of those who do not seem to care about anything but themselves.

In the last six months or so leading up to his death, we had dinner together at least three nights a week, and we’d get lunch on Saturdays without fail.  We had our first date at Amanda’s Fonda, on the edge of Manitou Springs.  I drank a margarita about the size of my head that day.  He forgave me for getting drunk and slurring.  Not long after that, we both fell in love.  We were official sometime in September 2011.

I'll love him forever.

I’ll love him forever.

People who knew Dave were aware of his selflessness.  From the age of fourteen or so, he’d taken care of his mother Jacqueline, who suffered from MS, almost entirely by himself.  He cared for her until her death on January 26, 2007.  My birthday happens to be on January 26th.  Dave told me that he would not celebrate the day his mother died, until he one day commented that perhaps I was born on that horrible day to satiate his loss; that I was, in fact, a gift to him.  It just seems too perfect and coincidental to not be on purpose.

Dave was everything to me.  He was that one person I loved to hang out with on a lazy afternoon, the person I told all of my secrets to, the person who understood my dark sense of humor and all of my neuroses, bad temper, and sensitivities.  That was the bond we had.  It was so strong, special, and something I will never forget.  There’s no one I’d rather love, no one I’d rather hold and kiss again.  I wonder what will become of my feelings for Dave years from now and if I’ll ever love someone that deeply again.  It seems so faraway and completely out of reach.

If anything, Dave’s death has shown me how important it is to appreciate those you love, and how to ensure that they know how much you love them.  Anyone can be gone in a matter of seconds.  With Dave gone, it feels as though everyone is a bit more selfish, and a bit more distant, if that is possible.  I get offended easily when people do not respond to my texts.  It’s a lot of effort for me to want to talk to anyone at all these last few weeks, and when I’m met with short responses or no response at all, I find myself fighting tears.  I wonder who will actually read this all the way through; who will somehow empathize with whatever it is I am trying to say.

Those who are close to me know that I’ve been through many difficult times emotionally in my short life.   On the outside I am a bit grizzled and not quick to open myself to just anyone.  Those who are not very close to me almost immediately label me a “bitch”, “difficult,” and “too much”.  However, on the inside, I am an extremely sensitive and feeling person.  Dave understood me perfectly.  My biggest fear is that this will never happen again; that I’ll spend the remainder of my time here on earth clawing and combing for a comparable relationship.  It’s just been so damn hard.  There is no other way to say it.

Sometimes I wonder why this happened.  I have no explanation for it.  I’ve done my best to take this horrible occurrence to try to change my life for the better.  One month after Dave’s passing, I packed up my car and left for Los Angeles.  He would have been so proud of me.  It is of this notion that I must remind myself; that he’d want me to pursue my dreams in spite of everything.  Also gone now are endless nights of imbibing double vodkas in a dead-end town, wondering what my life would be if I left.  In spite of this misery I feel so intensely right now, I know that somehow, things might eventually work out to be okay.  And okay would be a good thing for me.

Everyone is a Self-Absorbed Asshat

8 Aug

In the wake of the death of my best friend, I’ve learned a very valuable lesson about people.  Every person, it seems, is a self-absorbed asshat.  What is wrong with people these days? Why won’t they talk to each other anymore instead of staring at their phones and/or pretending that they are super important and “OMG it’s my birthday next week” and blah blah blah.

This is not a good time for me. In fact, I may venture to say that this is the worst time of my life. The person I loved the most in the entire world, the person to whom I told all of my secrets, hopes, and dreams, is dead.  There is no nice way of saying it.  Dave died.  Sometimes when I think about it, the entire world feels as though it is going to fall away from under my feet.  At other times, I shrug, and simply forget for a few moments.  Nothing will change what happened, but I feel that the most pressing thing to result from Dave’s death is my realization that everyone else in the world is completely selfish.

Never in my life have I screamed for help so loudly, yet no one hears me.  I am literally standing on a precipice of life or death. The first thing I thought about this morning was how nice it would be to be with Dave again.  Then I became intensely sad while reading about people’s apparently happy lives on Facebook.  People are going on trips and “loving life” and looking forward to their birthdays.  But what about the trips I had planned with Dave? What about his 36th birthday, a day that will never come? It’s no matter, because no one will read this.  And if they do, no one who thinks they will want to do anything will actually do anything.  They’ll just go back to reading their Kindles and pretending to text someone who isn’t there.

What are my dreams? A best friend who will listen to me when things are this horrible.  Someone like Dave, who was always there for me when I needed him. Everything is so hopeless now. Everything is so empty. Nothing has meaning anymore.  I feel so empty inside.

I am unsure of whether I’ll survive this test of my strength. I’ve been weakened to the point of exhaustion.  Nothing seems worth anything, no one seems worthy.  It is hard to be this lonely, this hopeless.

Oh, the Humanity: Most Eligible Dallas

7 Sep

The cast of Most Eligible Dallas posing next to a giant star and a cow skull, y'all.

Bravo recently debuted a new series following the lives of several young singles in The Big D. That’s Dallas, for all of you unfamiliar with the pseudo-sexual nicknames for Texas cities. Bravo describes the show as follows:

They’re young, they’re hot, they’re single –- they’re Dallas’ Most Eligible. From beauty queens to pro-football players, this group of Texas socialites proves that everything’s bigger in Texas –- including the drama. Some are looking for true love while others have perfected the art of the one-night stand, and somehow their love lives have all crossed paths at one time or another. Dallas serves as the sexy backdrop for this jaw-dropping series that follows a group of successful friends living it up in the lone star state.

Oh boy! Where to begin!?! The show has a cast of people so wrapped up in themselves and their semi-important social lives that it’s almost too easy to make fun of them. The jokes about this show practically write themselves!

First up is Tara, a rich Texas blonde with a heart of gold. Tara is also a runaway bride, calling off a total of four engagements! Tara spends a lot of her free time rescuing dogs, and in the first episode, we see her bring home a doomed puppy named Sheniqua.  Tara also wants us to know that she lives a few blocks away from former President Bush and informs us of the power the presence of the Secret Service has over her: “when you see the Secret Service going down the street all the time, it makes you feel wither really safe, or like, al-Qaeda could be down the street.”

Another interesting subject is Drew, the show’s token gay male. In the series-opener, Drew tells his sad tale of woe as a former overweight son of a major luxury car-dealing family. Of course he was able to afford gastric bypass surgery, and he lost weight.  He also injects himself with female hormones to keep the weight off. This is interesting for someone who prides himself on being a manly kind of gay man who can talk about “fuel injection” all the livelong day. My favorite quote from Drew is not necessarily amusing but centers on his pronunciation of the word “button”: “When I need something, I press a butt-un. I need a facial? I press a butt-un. I need my car brought up? I press a butt-un.”

Perhaps the only person I sympathize with in any way on this show is Courtney, a fashionista who dreams of finding the right man for her. The only problem is that the right man for her just might be her best guy friend, Matt, another subject followed on the show.  Although Courtney claims that her feelings for Matt are purely platonic, she gets really mad when Matt brings his gaggles of hoes around. So far, the show follows this continuing issue between Courtney and Matt. Personally, they should both get over themselves and fuck already. This advice comes from personal experience.

The subjects followed on the show I did not yet mention are Neill and Glenn, a single 23-year-old mom (who appears older) and an alleged NFL punter who is quite boring and got released from the Raiders last week. Yawn.

Most Eligible Dallas airs Monday nights on Bravo. I’ll be watching!