First, let’s just acknowledge that this is real life. Snooki, whatcha got goin’ on there? I can’t tell if you’re dancing with the plant for laughs, or if you’re actually trippin’ balls in public. Better yet, I can’t tell why someone hasn’t set this to a sick tecno beat yet!

But really, Snooki does not look like she even knows what day of the week it is. Clearly no one could have selected that ensemble (ugh, those boots!) with a sober mind. Girlfriend, if you need help, please go seek it. Don’t make your next reality debut be on A&E’s Intervention.

And we’ve got proof.

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I was born with a skin-tone that falls somewhere between “fresh milk” and “blank paper.” I’ve heard every “where are the Seven Dwarves?” and “Ah! You’re blinding me!” joke in existence, replacing my joyful anticipation of summer with an ominous dread. As girls with non-glow-in-the-dark skin flounce down the street in their shorts and minis, my legs have been relegated to hot, dark jeans.

In years past, in order to reach the deep, savage “normal-people” color I have so longed for, I have resorted to the religious application of self-tanners, which, while making me darker, have also made me smellier. And we all know nothing is more appealing to a man than a girl who smells like chemicals and has weird, orange-streaked sheets. And to top it all off, after my daily self-tanning regimen, there would almost inevitably come the cruel mockery of the phrase “you’re so light!”

Sigh. Read More »

Let’s put something out on the table. I’m pale. Year-round, unless I am recovering from a painful sunburn, any healthy glow I may have is courtesy of Cover Girl and a fluffy blush brush. I’m also not a fan of leather-face a la Rachel Zoe, so I’ve become quite intimate with the self-tan aisles of various department and beauty stores.

But there’s a problem with most self-tanners I’ve tried. And that problem is that they suck, in various degrees and respects.

I had high hopes for Jergen’s Natural Glow, the daily moisturizer that gives you gradual, but the color was so “gradual” that I gave up my daily application routine after a week of no results. I decided to try Mark bronzing self-tanner and spent the next day furiously scrubbing it off after looking like my tan was applied by a child painting with watercolors.

And Victoria’s Secret must be that she moonlights as an exotic dancer, because the only glow VS Bare Bronze gave me was that orange “my work uniform consists of 4-inch clear heels and glitter” glow.

I’d been mourning the loss of my summer tan on a daily basis since the beginning of the semester, until I came upon Elizabeth Grant Soleil Smart tinted leg lotion. And after a week of slathering it on, I’m just about ready to bathe in it. Read More »

Daddy Simpson is spreading the word. Big sis Jess is taking it country. No more bubblegum pop.

Although I will admit I loved “With You”…which I’m listening to right now…

That’s the reason I love Jessica Simpson. Her music sucks and its horrible… and I love it. It’s the dance around in your underwear, want to be in love, lip-syncing in the mirror with a hairbrush type of music. It’s awful. It’s so awful you can’t help but love it. And I do.

But country?

Please, Jessica, spare me.

Your fake country accent in Dukes of Hazzard was worse than your fake tan at the CFDA awards. I grew up on country music and there are plenty of awful female country singers out there to go around. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t have “Redneck Woman” stuck in my head right now.

As everyone’s favorite teenager dad said, “Everything in the music business, especially pop music, has moved away from singers. And I think country is the only pure, storytelling kind of genre left.”

So Jessica has a story to tell, and apparently she wants to tell it through country ballads rather than bubblegum pop lyrics. Is one genre not enough for musicians these days? Do they have to do everything—not just movies and music but every music genre too? Read More »