I’m back. I’ve come back from an unsuccessful foray into the real world (read: no place to live or a job…but I might have found a place to live. But still no job. That should be interesting. That’s another post.) and I’m back to the la la land of blogging where I can do what I love and pretend I’m getting paid! (Barack, could we speed up that fixing the economy business? I know it’s not going to happen overnight…but I need it to get better so people want to hire me.)
So. Much. To. Talk. About. So we have a new president. AWESOME. (If you don’t want to read one more freaking word about inauguration then just skip to the next paragraph.) Yours truly was there in the throws of things. I got to spend some quality time with Jessica Alba and her husband, Cash Warren. Cash, by the way, was much nicer than she was and not nearly as much of a jerk as Perez Hilton makes him out to be. If I had taken a picture with Jessica, I would have posted it, but I was trying to keep my cool and pretend like I didn’t care that she was a celebrity. Maybe it worked but it was a HUGE mistake on my part, because now I have no actual evidence. Whatev. Barack’s speech was perfect. It was HOPEy, CHANGEy, alluded to our new style of diplomacy, and presented a strong national image and showed he was not going to mess around. RAWR. I made it to a couple balls, but never got to see B and Meesh dance. Wahhh. We arrived just as Biden did, so they wouldn’t let us in. They were going to let us in between Joe and Barack, but guess what. They didn’t. I stood in the cold for forty minutes waiting. You know what made it better though? Walking in and James Taylor was playing. Niiiiiiiiiice. Okay, that’s all I’m going to say about the great inaug. Nope it’s not. I would wear everything Michelle Obama wears. Foxy. Hell, I’d wear Sasha and Malia’s clothes too. Too cute. ENOUGH! ENOUGH.
Barack is going to sign the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act today. It will now be law that women deserve the same pay as men. I cannot believe it took this long. If you want to read the stories that prove we need this legislation, read this NYT op-ed. Hooray!
In other great news, PETA is still batty. I meant to blog about them wanting to change the word “fish” to “sea kittens” but I didn’t. So get over it. Hopefully, you know about that anyway. If you don’t, here’s the deal. Fish have feelings, etc. So when you eat fish, they want you to feel bad about it. Like REALLY REALLY bad. They think the best way to do this is to change the name of fish to sea kittens. I am not making that up. But that’s not even what I am talking about. PETA has a vegetable sex ad that got denied for a Superbowl slot. Vegetable sex. Yeah, I said it and yeah, I know you pervs want to watch it:
Wowie. Thank you, PETA, for grossing me out AND making me feel bad about myself at the same time. And I’d like to see their sources for their information. How do they KNOW that vegetarians have better sex?
Okay, I’m off to stalk le internets and find more goodness for you to enjoy while you work. And I do not work. Really, this is community service. Right, Mom and Dad?
[Posted by Kathleen]