Midday Report

Today is the birthday of the owner of the company I work for. I love this company becuase everyone's birthday is celebrated with yummy pies and ice cream. And today--yummy pies, ice cream, and CHAMPAGNE.

Being drunk at work is one of those things that can't happen often, but when it does.....life is good. As long as you don't work with freaks.

Currently, I'm trying to finish my work for the day before the birthday celebration because I'll be finding it hard to type after a couple of plastic cups full of bubbly. I might also mention that champagne treated me very well last weekend too. I went to brunch and my friends and I were given six free drink tickets by some little hipster Asian girls exiting and brunch comes with three drinks already included.

We drank every drink. We were there for so long that we had to move from our table to go back to the bar. My roommate was giggling at everything, my boyfriend was making sure every drop was drank and I was having trouble standing on my own. Kind of a perfect way to spend 3pm on a Saturday.

Also here's a cute anecdote--

Last week I had PMS like a motherfucker and was not the most fun person to be around. I try and recognize whenever I'm feeling like a bitch because of hormones vs feeling like a bitch because sometimes I am one. Last week was a combination of both but mostly pre-menstrual. Friday night Justin and I end up at Katz's Delicatessen before going to a friend's birthday party. I was moody and trying not to be. If I'm not smiling, I look like a bitch. I've been told this my whole life and I'm dealing with it. So he says to me, "I think that maybe we should go home and watch Steel Magnolias because you need a reason to cry."

So We went home and put it on, my friend Tim came over, and three of us enjoyed finishing the rest of a box of chocolates while also enjoying the bong.

A bong, some chocolate, Steel Magnolias, and Brandy Crawford weeping like a stuck pig on the verge of dying.

It was a good Friday.

Quote of the Century

So tonight I'm sitting around and watching Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader and it's on commercial. This ad for Visa check cards comes on and there's a leprechaun in it and the guy who finds it. My roommate is beside me on the couch and she says,

"If I chased a rainbow to the end and found a leprechaun, I don't know what I'd do. I mean, I don't even know, I'd probably shit my pants."

Oprah Winfrey, you are my God.

I love Oprah Winfrey. She is ALWAYS blowing my mind. Does she wake up every morning and think, "I am Oprah, perhaps the most awesome woman on the planet with the exception of Brandy Crawford's grandmother."


I just watched her Oscar special--actually I just caught the end. Jamie Foxx was interviewing Sidney Poitier in the theater he (Mr. P) won his Oscar back in 1964 and Oprah came out and surprised them with a visit. It was so fucking cute. She has such a presence. I want to have a presence like that.

And she does so many great things and she's so incredibly rich! True, I think the whole school for girls in South Africa is a little cliche since Oprah is from Mississippi or something but, she's still amazing. And she was IN THE COLOR PURPLE.

I have such a special place in my heart for The Color Purple. I've seen it so many times, I know the words. My aunt didn't have cable so when my brother and I stayed with her in the summer we were so desperate for TV that we would just watch the Color Purple, Rambo and Little Shop of Hours because those were the only movies she had. I love everything about the movie but Sofia is the best character ever! And isn't it SO RANDOM that her character in the movie is married to a man named HARPO? That's Oprah backwards and the name of her production company! Alice Walker can SEE THE FUTURE.

I'll probably almost faint when I finally meet her. And then after we are chummy, I will ask her if she'd like to me to help her run her incredible empire. She will immediately agree because the ambition will be shining bright in my eyes. She'll know she's found a winner, someone to leave her kingdom to.

All I want in my life is to be Oprah Winfrey's heir.

And this is COMPLETELY unrelated but speaking of movies I ADORE, let me give a shout out to Steel Magnolias. I always think, Maybe this time Shelby won't die. Come on Shelby, wake up! I would love it if Claree was my grandmother's best friend and I lived on the same street as Ouiser and M'Lynn. Oh and I'd want only Truvy to do my hair.

Best of iChat: Thursday edition

Today during work.......

What did people do before iChat?

God, I fucking HATE pigeons

They are by far my LEAST favorite animal. I hate them even more than squirrels and feral cats. They are so fat and gross and nasty. Whenever I see one I get the urge to kick it just as hard as I can. But then I realize that I am in sneakers and it probably would hurt me more and I decide to just wait and bide my time until I'm walking down Houston in some steel-toed cowboy boots.

I will kick the SHIT out of some pigeons.

No more Sexytime

I never thought I'd say this line, but due to "creative differences" Sexytime is no more. ("Creative differences" sounds very drama-esque to me but it a very apt term for the situation). Thanks to everyone who supported the show and came out to see it. Thanks to all the great performers and special guests for being so much fun. It was a great time but no worries--I can still be found wearing cute outfits on a daily basis. That's just how I roll.

I'm very glad to have been a part of the show because with Heather and I as the hosts, I felt that we were showing that it is very possible to embrace both your sexuality and comedic talent. Female comics who are comfortable with themselves and hilarious on stage are rare to find. Personally, I hate self-deprecating comedy and it's not funny to me for a woman to talk about how fat or ugly she is for laughs. But maybe I'm just to optomistic in wanting everyone to love themselves. God, I am SUCH an idealist.

And in even bigger news: Do you really think Meredith will die tonight on Grey's? I don't think so but those TV people are always throwing us SUCH curveballs.

Also a fun story:

Last night I went to my friend's place and the elevator didn't stop at her floor. It stopped on the 7th floor and when the doors opened instead of seeing David Bowie (who happens to live in the building!) I saw an older professor-y looking gentleman at his door and young gal who had "I work in entry-level PR" written all over her cute blonde bob was walked into the elevator. She was smiling and she blew him a kiss and then looked MORTIFIED when she turned and saw that I was standing there. I see the old guy give her a little creepy half wave but her eyes are pointed straight at the floor and she's clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles were white. At this moment, A Hard Day's Night by the Beatles came on my iPod, a happy member of the Songs I Like playlist.

Sometimes life is funny like that.

Sometimes, I am a Rock Star.

This is one of those times.

PS: I DIED to get this flashy one piece bathing suit for my 15th birthday.

PPS: I can fit into a swimsuit from when I was 15!

Seriously?

First Britney goes off the deep end and shaves her head. And now our president is showing the world once again how dense he can be.

Are you KIDDING me? I'm not trying to say that our country's forefathers were the best people--most of them were slave owning assholes who decided to fight when it looked like their taxes were going to go through the roof.

But really, it's a stretch to compare Iraq to the war our country had before it became an overimposing super power.

Get it together, Bush. (Oh wait...it's too late for that.)

Probably not.

Something I NEVER want to see

These two in a movie together.

I'm getting the creeps just thinking about what kind of fucked up drama these two would make happen. Lots of tears I think would be required form both of them.

Happy Valentine's Day!

There was a snowstorm last night so it's a wintry New York wonderland out there overrun with happy couples out on the town tonight. I'm home because I stayed out from work today. My Valentine won't be home until later so I'm sending my friends fun e-cards and watching The New CW. I love both sending and receiving e-cards. They really make me feel loved. And just now, when I was sending one, above the place where you write your personal greeting is this:


So of course I click--I want to make sure I write a REALLY unforgettable Valentine message. And of course, there's a whole plethora of fabulous tips.

What most concerns me is the "For a Favorite Teacher." Are parents really supposed to get teachers Valentines? I thought the rule was Valentine=someone you want to sleep with. Or Valentine=you and your friends sitting around getting wasted on wine while whining about how no one can find the right guy and how all NYC men are complete and utter wastes of time.

But I guess now Valentine=My kid's hot teacher.

Sometimes I wish....

.....that I was Kate Moss.

Because then I would have a wax scuplture of myself at Madame Tussands in London. A wax scuplture that's "reclining in on a couch in a New York-style loft."

That's right--I'd have a sculpture of me fucked up on a couch. Perhaps there would even be a few flecks of white on the nose of my wax double. And maybe my wax double would be holding a nice fat wax joint.

Read it all right here.

Single for V-Day? This doesn't apply to me.

And I secretly LOVE that fact!

But openly I say "fuck Valentine's Day." (Unless you are my friend Stacy who is at this moment jetting off to CABO for a luxurious all expenses paid "business trip" with her honey, if you are her then I say, "I'm so happy for you yet so incredibly jealous I'm biting the inside of my lip and it just started bleeding.)

I usually never have Valentines but I used to always secretly hope that I'd have a secret admirer. I felt like in order to truly be cool I really needed that to happen. But he never materialized and I only became cool after high school.

I was always a sucker for those magazine articles about "Being Fun, Flirty, and Single This V-Day." And I've attended my share of anti-Valentine's Day partiess looking to hook up. And even though I have a Valentine this year (he was not a secret admirer though--no notes!), I'm still always drawn to those singles tips. So thanks to Yahoo headlines, I just read another tips- for-being-single article and it was too great not to share.

Just six tips?
That sounds totally doable! I will be getting laid in no time!

But wait--one of the tips is:

Oh yeah--that's why I'm single.

Also--for all you online daters out there (I'm not judging--I went that route once and decided through experience that it was a path for the plain and unphotogenic.), I ran across a link in the tips article to something I'm sure we could maybe all use a little "refresher" course in how to:

I really really really wish I was 15 and my screenname was Cyberflirt69.


My favorite tip on mastering the cyberflirt would have to be:

I'm so glad that this has been clarified.

But wait--just in case you didn't know where to look:

We all love random hot sex, right?

Ladies--he's available.

IF YOU CAN GUESS WHICH ONE HE IS.

I have the PERFECT number of friends

It's 8:15am

And I just had to talk about a sex bog on the radio.

It's weird saying the words "clit," "pussy," and "manhood" at 7:30 in the morning while sitting on my couch in a fleece house dress with sleepy weeds in my eyes. But it's a good blog--it's called The Dirty Details and it's NOT work appropriate.


The Grammys were on last night and they were AMAZING. I kind of wish I was 17 because I am IN LOVE with Chris Brown!! He put on quite a show last night--I would pay to a) see him in concert and b) get him my bed. I was a little bummed that Christina A got the Holy Ghost with James Brown instead of doing a fast dance number. I love fast dance numbers. Worst performance of the night would have to go to Beyonce, not because I can't stand her, but because she sucked.

Also, I bought a bike this weekend! It has a basket.

I never want this. EVER.

New number one way I never want to die: In the belly of an anaconda.

Just in time for Valentine's Day!!

Black grandmothers everywhere rejoice in silent wonder.

Sexytime is February 16th!!

And it's going to be FABULOUS. Go here to buy your tickets. Everyone is doing it.

And for more information go here. To our lovely website.

Lily Allen is MY FAVORITE

Yet I still dropped the ball on getting tickets to her now sold out show tomorrow at Webster Hall.

The agony.

But we can all still enjoy this cute little song about her brother. Kind of reminds me of MY BROTHER.

One of my big wants right now is to be BFFs with Lily Allen.

Black History Month

Once upon a time in February 1992, I was in fifth grade. I was in Mrs. Harris's class. She played piano at my church and let me get away with murder. February was Black History Month, a time in which I always got really self conscious in class. I hated talking about slavery and segregation and Jim Crow. I was embarrassed that everyone would turn to look at me, one of the lone black faces in the class and just assume that me and my family must be just like all those pictures of sharecroppers and Stepin Fetchits that we saw in our history books. I kind of just wanted to forget that America has ever been ridiculous enough to separate the races in the first place.

But this particular February, there was a trivia contest. And if there was one thing I was good at, it was trivia contests. I've always had an amazing mental capacity for bullshit knowledge which is probably why I excelled at school but was never all that great with "common sense." The prize was a class pizza party--the ultimate in elementary school giveaways. You say the word pizza and you have got a ten-year-old's attention.

The contests would be grade specific. Each day in February the whole school was given five or six black history facts. On the last week of the month, everyone had to take this 50 question test which just regurgitated the facts we got in class everyday. The highest score in the class would be the representative in the big contest.

I already knew I was in a class full of idiots so it was no surprise when I was named the rep from Mrs. Harris's class.

I was so confident and so sure that I would win. The questions were so simple and, please---I knew these facts like the back of my hand. I WAS BLACK.

I was also the only black person in the Black History Month trivia contest.

Things were going well for awhile. The moderator went down the line and asked each person a question and if you got it wrong, you were out. Soon it was down to me and one other white boy. That pizza party was a good as mine.

This boy and I went back and forth for a good twenty minutes. I was getting a little nervous but I kept popping out gems like "Sojourner Truth" or "The Underground Railroad."

And then came, "Can you tell me what important black history fact occurred in 1893. Please give the event and the name associated with it."

It was my question. 1893? 1893--was that the Civil War? No--so no Harriet Tubman. Hmm--Reconstruction? One of the first black senators? 1893, 1893--Goddammit that was a hundred fucking years ago--ask me about Dr. King, or Malcolm X, or the fucking inventor of the stoplight 1893--I HAD NO IDEA.

"Brandy? Do you have answer?" The moderator was the Spanish front office secretary. Her name was Mrs. Britt and in five years time I would fall madly in love with her son Carlos. But now, now I wanted to slap that fucking cute little accent right out of her prretty little face.

"Umm, I....umm. 1893--that was, um....when Madame CJ Walker became the first black
millionaire with her hair products?"

It sounded like a good answer but I had a feeling my dates were all off.

Mrs. Britt gave me a sad little smile. A smile that said, "Come one senorita--you ae FUCKING black, why are you getting this wrong? 1893, Brandy!! 1893!!!"

"I'm sorry Brandy, that's wrong."

A collective "WHAT?" went through the audience. Did I mention this little contest was held in front of the ENTIRE SCHOOL? And I'd just gotten a question wrong. WHAT? I was BRANDY CRAWFORD, I was SO SMART! How did I just get a question wrong?

"Chris, if you answer right, we have winner. But if not, we go to next question."

I looked at my competition. I'd never met him before but I vaguely remembered seeing him in the cafeteria. He was shorter than me with curly brown hair and a goofy smile. Chris Barnes. He always got a lot of awards at the end of the year too. I remembered his name now. And now he had the chance to beat me. To beat me in a contest based on facts about MY PEOPLE. I bet he didn't even KNOW anyone black.

Chris Barnes. I HATED HIM in that moment.

"Chris? Do you have answer?"

Chris took a breath and said, "1893 was when Dr. Daniel Hale Williams performed the first open heart surgery in Chicago."

I felt like a ball of lead had been dropped into my stomach. How could I have NOT known that. I distinctly remembered seeing as pic of Dr. Daniel Hale Williams and thinking, "I would NEVER want to perform open heart surgery."

Everyone was already applauding and his class, Mrs. Smith's class, was cheering. They were going to get MY pizza party. Those motherfuckers.

"Congratulations Chris!! Please a big hand for all people in this today!!" Her accent was KILLING me softly.

And then Mrs Britt handed me an orange plastic case. It was one of those cheap "school kits" that comes with a ruler and some pencils and a pencil sharpener. All in mathcing orange plastic.

"Thanks Brandy," she says. "Here's your prize."

A plastic box with some pencils and a ruler? I smiled bravely and took it, thinking to myself that I was going to smash everything in that fucking box as soon as I got back to my class. I stole one last glance at Chris Barnes before I left the stage. He was chanting "Pizza! Pizza!" with his friends.

I wanted to spit.

And that's how I lost the Black History Month trivia contest to Chris Barnes. We would meet again the next year in homeroom in 6th grade. And a few months later I would develop a crush on him that would last for the next 8 years until our sophomore year of college when he admitted his love for men.

But I'll never forget that he beat me that day. It humbled a woman. Surely and truly--it humbled this woman.

Sad News

Very very sad. I'm not going to make any kind of joke because for once, I don't think something is very funny.

Modern Day Phone Tree

Have you heard?

Tim's a Blue Man

That's right!! I have a friend in the Blue Man Group now!!

He might be going to VEGAS!!

Trying NOT to get pregnant this spring

Because I don't want a preemie baby.

Is that bad?

One more funny thing about the lady space flyer

She was DETERMINED. I mean, you don't become an astronaut without this kind of determination.

NAH MEAN?

Look at this fucking fish.

Goblin sharks have been added to my list of things I never want to see. I mean LOOK at this thing.




It now rates at a 3 on my list of animals I never want to come into contact with. 1 and 2 are man eating mountain lions and anacondas, respectively.

For Your Consideration

Heartwarming. Sweet. A little creepy.

Kind of funny. Mostly sad. A little crazy.

PS: I have never known a real astronaut. In fact, I don't even know anyone who does know someone that's an astronaut. How many astronauts are there do you think? What kind of numbers are we looking at here? 1,000 or like maybe 50?

Favorite iChat moment of the day

Jim is back!



And he has a mission.

Days Of Our Lives

"Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."


Last night I had one and a half beers, one margarita, and a sip of champagne.

I threw up at the bar, made my friends get into a cab immediately, and spent the rest of the night on my knees in the bathroom of my apartment.

Now I have always had a low tolerance, but last night took the cake. So when I woke up this morning and still felt awful I decided that maybe I wasn't just hungover, maybe I am actually sick.

I went in at 10 to work to get some things done and at 11 I was out the door and on my way home. (CONFESSION: I bought a pair of shoes on my way to the subway--how could I not, they are so cute and red.)

And now I am home at 12:45 seeing my apartment in the weekday afternoon light watching daytime TV. I think I'm going to watch some soaps.


When I was younger, before we were allowed to stay home alone, my brother and I endured many summers at my great aunt Annie Mae's house. She lived with her mom, my great grandma Mamie, and her brother, my great uncle Billy. Uncle Billy chewed tobacco and spit it out all over the yard so I never went outside. Grandma Mamie was ancient, slightly insane and had cataracts over her eyes so she always thought that there were people in the room having a party without her. She had a huge Louis Vuitton bag which was always stuffed with twenties and Juicy Fruit gum. Aunt Annie Mae worked at my middle school lunchroom and had a freezer full of school lunch. Her favorite snack to give us was Vienna sausages with ketchup on the side. I hated those but I was really into the rectangular pizzas that during the school year we had every Friday in the cafeteria.

My brother and I would hole up in Uncle Billy's room because that's where the big TV was. The big TV that didn't have cable. Only two channels came in good--NBC and Channel 36 which eventually turned into the WB. There was a VCR and three movies on tape: The Color Purple, Little Shop Of Horrors, and Rambo. Whenever my cousins would come over we had to watch The Color Purple on a loop because they loved that movie so much. Because we only got a two channels, Larry J and I both became very into everything that came on NBC in the mornings since Channel 36 played cartoons in the afternoon.

We really got into Days Of Our Lives.

Really got into it. We started watching during "The Cruise of Deception." For those diehard fans out there, that's when Bo thought Hope died. BUT SHE DIDN'T. It was also around this time in the show that Sami started going crazy and really wanting Austin and she lied about being pregnant with his baby when it was really his half brother Lucas's kid. Not to mention that Austin was Sami's half sister HUSBAND.

1pm on NBC was a good time for me and my little brother. He'll never admit it now, but we both cried when we thought Bo had to leave hope behind. And when Marlena came back. And when it turned out Roman was John Black.

OMG--Days is on RIGHT now and Sami and Lucas are having a chat! They have been on this show for the past 15 years!!!! I can't believe I haven't watched this show since maybe 1996 and it's like i am picking up where I left off. I LOVE SOAPS SOMETIMES.

I never got into any other daytime soaps but I will tell you what primetime soaps I miss:

Savannah (the WB at its BEST)
Pacific Palisades (Fox was the SHIT in the mid 90s)

And that's all for now. I think my TheraFlu is kicking in.

I'm just as pretty as Gisele

Last night I went to a fashion week after party in the Meatpacking District. When I came home to get ready I knew what I'd be up against at this fete. Pretty skinny blonde girls in oversized sweaters and leggings and huge Marc Jacobs bags which hold their Blackberries and vials of coke. I'm cheap by nature but I like to make sure I always look good and that my clothes don't look like I grabbed them off the 2.00 rack at Forever 21.

The party was at this place called Buddha Bar. There were lists and some waiting and a mandatory coatcheck (those always kind of piss me off--I'm so cheap I'd rather hold my coat than pay someone 2 bucks to take it). There was open bar which is always great.

And of course a roomful of pretty ladies.

I guess I have a different perspective on beauty than my contemporaries. I didn't walk into that room feeling threatened in any way. I never see models or other pretty girls and think, "She is so much prettier than me" or "She's a ten. I wish I was a ten." No, no, no. Beauty is so subjective that you're just making it harder on yourself to compare. Who the fuck cares if Gisele is prettier than me--I don't know her, she doesn't know me. So why can't we just both be pretty and that be that? Why does she have to be prettier? Who says? Not me.

I hate the 1 to 10 scale. My roommate says last night, "I mean I know I'm an 8. I don't expect any better than that."

My response? If I don't think I'm a 10 how can I expect anyone else to?

What good does it do to constantly compare ourselves to the images we see on TV or even to the anorexic bulimics I walk down the street with everyday. Guy 1 might think I'm the most beautiful creature he's ever laid eyes on but Guy 2 may find me grotesque. I think Jodie Foster is gorgeous. I don't think that Jessica Simpson is that pretty. But really--who cares?

Will looking like a Victoria's Secret model make my life easier?

Probably not because I am too old to be a model now. But would I have more guys? And is that the point? We want to be pretty and thin so that boys will call us and want us?

LAME.

I am pretty and skinny because I like to look good. I like to know for myself that I am slamming as I walk down the street. I don't give a shit what other people think. Growing up black and awkward in a world of blondes with big tits, I learned early on that I would never look like my friends. My hair will never be long and shiny--it will always be shoulder length and kinky. I have small boobs from my mom and 36B is where I'm going to stay I think. I learned to be happy with what I got--Chinese eyes, a big nose, pretty teeth, and long legs--and I've made the most of it. My life wouldn't be any better if I woke up with Adriana Lima's face. I love me.

And I want all of you to love yourselves too. Because I think you're just as pretty as Gisele and you probably don't talk like a deaf person.

It's COLD

It's so cold that I have been at work for a hour and my fingers are JUST NOW regaining feeling. I was even wearing my construction worker gloves today and my fingers are STILL FROZEN.

In other news, for all you haters out there: Stomp The Yard is a FANTASTIC film. I love all-black cast movies. I love dance movies. I love step shows. Everything about this movie was on point and the entire cast was SO ATTRACTIVE.

I never joined a sorority. I went to a good ole boy Southern school and although I was there when the 21st century arrived, the Greek council was stuck back in the day so there was no racial mixing of fraternities or sororities. Milledge Avenue in Athens, GA was White Frat Row and lined with huge beautiful old houses with driveways full of Chevy Tahoes and Toyota 4-Runners. the black frats had a room in Memorial Hall near the student center.

Once when I was dumb and a freshman, my friends and I loved going to fraternity parties. I gladly took whatever was in the red plastic cup at these parties and usually danced myself into oblivion perhaps smooching one or two frat boys on the way.

I went to both black and white frat parties--in fact, I was kind of in love with this one black fraternity guy. He was pre-med and tall and also vice president of my school student government association. He was like president or something of his fraternity. During my sophomore year, I was very concerned about getting more active with the black community so I decided Step One would be to date a successful black man and go to all of the Week Of Soul events spring semester.

I still never joined a sorority. The white ones were too white and I didn't want to deal. Once a black girl pledged a white sorority and all hell broke loose on campus. Call me a pacifist, but joining Tri Delt wasn't important enough to me for me to try and make a stand or something. And the black sororities were.......well here's the story.

I was a freshman and I was at one of my first parties EVER. I was a good kid in high school--didn't drink or smoke. I was really into studying and going to the movies with my friends. So college hit and I had my first sip of alcohol and since 18, I've had a drink pretty much everyday. So here I am, at this house party of someone who knows someone on my hall. And there are these cute guys talking to me. Cute black guys. This was also VERY different for me. The black guys at my high school seemed to think my white sounding voice was a modern day version of the bubonic plague so they avoided me at all costs.

But not these.

These cuties were TALKING to me. Who even remembers what we chatted about but it was nice. And I left to go and fill up my cup from the keg. I was pumping and filling when suddenly two girls materialized out of no where. One looked exactly like Beyonce and the other her plain shadow.

"Just so you know," the Beyonce lookalike says to me, "you are getting too close to my man over in the corner. I don't know what your name is but you need to watch yourself."

I was terrified inside. I hated conflict and now this girl who I didn't even know was yelling at me and telling me to stay up off her man. I knew I should have said fuck off, but instead I just said,

"Sorry."

And walked away.

About a week later, I was in the common area in the lobby of my dorm. There were signup sheets everywhere and I was looking to see what I could get involved in. One of the signup sheets was for an informational meeting about AKA, one of the biggest black sororities on campus. Two of my aunts were Alpha Kappa Alpha and my mom and grandmother would have been tickled pink if I'd pledged. So here I am just standing near the signup sheet with two of my friends, not even really thinking about signing up when the Beyonce bitch from the party is once again in my space sporting her AKA shirt.

"You might be better off trying to go with the Deltas," she says to me. "You're not really what we're looking for."

Maybe it was because I'd just finished doing some shots in my room with my roommate, or maybe it was because I'd had a delicious dinner of french fries and ice cream in the dining hall. But in any case, I turned around and stared her straight in the eye.

"I'm glad I'm not what you're looking for because it seems to me that your sorority is full of uptight rich bitches and since I'm not in high school anymore, that's not really my scene."

I kind of wish I could have come up with something a little more zingerific but the look on her face was enough for me. She rolled her eyes and huffed off. And never spoke to me again.

And that's the story of why Brandy Crawford never joined a sorority.

I hate this bitch.

PS: She NEVER helps.

So....

Yesterday I got up at 5:30 in the morning to go to New Haven, CT. For those who don't know I'm a producer type on a show called Flip This House and our new cast is in CT. Which means that yesterday I had to go up there and set up. After yesterday's trip, here are a few things I'd like to never do again.

1. Go to New Haven, CT
2. Go to Ikea
3. Eat a maple cheddar croissant at Dunkin Donuts
4. Try and order pizza to be delivered in New Haven, CT
5. Go to a non-Super Wal-Mart.


I was given $4,000 in cash and four helpers to go up and furnish two apartments which the crew who'll be filming up there will be living in. I'd never been to Ikea before.

I never want to go again.

I used to love to put things together. Now, I'd like to say:

FUCK YOU IKEA. THAT FUCKING BED WAS SO HARD TO PUT TOGETHER.

the best thing about yesterday was paying in cash. There's nothing like giving exact change for $3004.07.