The Queen Bee

The most popular girl at my middle school was Mindy.

She was the All-American teen dream. Blonde. Cheerleader. Gorgeous.

She was also a complete psycho bitch.

I was introduced to Mindy on my first day of seventh grade. She was in eighth.

She was in two of my classes that year. She was repeating seventh grade science and she was also in my gym class.

In science class, she entertained herself by making fun of everyone. To their face. For example, she would turn to a girl, look her up and down, and sneer something like, "Where did you get that shirt? A thrift store?" and then smirk. Even the guys weren't spared. One of my favorite Mindy quotes from class was: "Mr. Anderson, I don't like sitting in alphabetical order. All these ugly boys with B names have dandruff. It's so gross."



In gym class, it was the same. She had an insult for everyone.

She especially tortured my poor friend Susan because Susan had acne.

"Oh my god will you please wash your face so I don't have to look at your disgusting bumps anymore!" Mindy screamed at Susan one day, out of the blue. "You look like fucking braille!"

The first time she targeted me, I was completely unprepared. I was walking out of gym and Mindy came up behind me and pushed me to the ground. She ran off with her cheerleader friends, laughing. One of her friends seemed concerned though and said, "hey, that was really mean." Mindy rolled her eyes and retorted, "Who cares, it was just a seventh grader!"



In addition to being a mean girl, Mindy also suffered from disillusion. She sincerely believed she was going to be the future Queen of England.

"I don't need to know photosynthesis," she told Mr. Anderson in science class. "I'm going to marry Prince William."

Her engagement to Prince William was also the reason she couldn't participate in dodge ball that year. Our gym coach was not amused.

By the second semester of seventh grade, I had grown fed up with Mindy. I was tired of watching her rip apart every girl (or guy) who came in her path. She made me sick. I hated her.

So, I shouldn't have been surprised by my bravery one day in April.

She walked into science class, looked me up and down, and snidely said, "Somebody told me your dress was ugly."

Without hesitating, I stood up, looked her square in the eye, and said, "That's funny because somebody told me my fist was in your face."

The entire classroom got quiet and then all of the sudden, people clapped and cheered. It was like out of a movie!! Mindy was shocked and speechless. She slumped into her seat and I glowed in victory. It was an epic moment in my life.



We both knew I wasn't really going to hit her. I was a tiny little mouse and she towered over me. But I do believe it was the first time anyone, especially a younger girl, had stood up to her.

I wish I could say Mindy stopped torturing people after that, but she remained the same. She did, however, leave me alone. I was never the victim of her cruelty again.

During the Royal Wedding mania last month, I started thinking about Mindy, after all those years. I had not seen her since seventh grade. We went to different high schools. I decided to look her up on facebook.

I was hoping she had grown fat and ugly and perhaps might be homeless in a ditch somewhere.

Unfortunately, life was kind to Mindy, it seems. She ended up becoming a news reporter for a television station in Dallas and then got married to some rich businessman in Chicago. That's where she's living now. She has really adorable children too. And from her facebook wall, I can tell she's still a total bitch.

Doesn't that suck?

Gypsy Rose Lee

For those who don't know, I am a freelance journalist until I can find a more permanent position. It has kept my foot in the door, since I got laid off from the newspaper one year ago.

I recently got the chance to review the stage production of Gypsy here in town. The musical was spectacular. Rian and I were very impressed. It also made me incredibly interested in the real-life woman it is based upon: Gypsy Rose Lee, one of history's sexiest women.



Gypsy Rose Lee was born in Seattle in 1911. She had a younger sister named June. The girls' mother, Rose, was a heinous stage mother who forced her daughters into vaudeville. She took them all over the United States, desperately trying to make them child stars. She wanted fame and she wanted fortune.



Their mother had always dreamed of being a famous actress when she was younger, but never made it. So, she was forcing her dream on her children.

Unfortunately, it didn't pan out. June, miserable with the situation, eloped at the age of 15. Gypsy Rose didn't have the same dancing and singing talent as her sister, much to her mother's dismay.

In her teens, it became apparent that Gypsy Rose had a knack for burlesque.



She quickly became the world's most famous striptease artist. Her wit, class, and sharp sense of humor made her a huge star.



She also wrote mystery novels and acted in movies on the side.



She had a complicated love life. For example, to make the man she loved jealous, she married another guy. Then, while married to that guy, she got pregnant with another guy's baby! (And that was the drama surrounding just ONE of her eventually three marriages).



As an adult, Gypsy Rose and her sister continued to get demands for money from their mother, Rose, who ended up running a boarding house for women in NYC.

Things took a turn for the worse when Rose shot and killed one of her guests (her female lover!) who had reportedly made a pass at Gypsy Rose. The incident was explained as a suicide and Rose was not prosecuted.



Rose died of cancer in 1954.

After Rose's death, Gypsy Rose felt free to write her memoirs about life with her crazy showbiz mama.



The memoirs were eventually turned into the huge Broadway success, Gypsy.

Unfortunately, June was upset at the way she was portrayed in the musical and the two sisters stop speaking to each other.

When Gypsy Rose was eventually diagnosed with cancer herself, in 1969, she reconciled with her sister. She died a year later.



If you're interested in the musical Gypsy, there is a film version out there, starring (coincidentally) Natalie Wood. I have not seen it yet, but it is quite famous. I'm going to watch it later this week. I hope you will too!

Jonny's Pick: Inside Daisy Clover

My darling friend Jonny and I have very similar taste in movies. So, when he gave me a list of films I simply had to watch, I took it seriously. And I decided to review them on my blog, as I watch them.

Here is the first film.



Inside Daisy Clover is the story of, well, Daisy Clover, a 15-year-old girl from the wrong side of the tracks who becomes a movie star overnight. As Daisy (played by Natalie Wood) copes with her new found fame, as America's favorite little girl, she discovers the sinister side of 1930s Hollywood, which eventually leads to her demise.



When this film was released, it was a box-office and critical failure. It has gone on to become a cult classic, however.

On the surface, it is easy to see why Inside Daisy Clover was a flop in 1965.

Natalie Wood was 27 years old when this film was made. A year before, she had played a glamorous psychiatrist in the 1964 smash hit, Sex and the Single Girl. After seeing her in such a sexy romantic comedy, it would have been hard for audiences to believe Natalie as a 15-year-old, despite her youthful features.



Also, this movie is incredibly dark, with even darker humor. I'm not sure if audiences around this time were expecting anything like it. I'm not even sure if audiences around this time had experienced anything like it before.



That being said, I can recognize many reasons why this movie resonates with audiences TODAY.



This is one of the first films where Hollywood exposes itself, and it's not pretty. The Golden Age of Hollywood, the 1930s, is portrayed as a time when movie studios were people factories and studio heads were ruthless. Movie stars were like dolls, without much freedom.



The acting in this film is solid. Christopher Plummer shines as the powerful, yet creepy, studio head, Raymond Swan. Ruth Gordon is incredibly believable as Daisy's mentally ill mother.



The actor who steals the show, however, is Robert Redford.

Unbelievably young and with all-American boyish good looks, Robert is brilliant in his portrayal of the charming movie star Wade Lewis. His character steals your heart and tosses it away, but you don't even care because you're too busy being mesmerized by his smile.



If you love old movies and you're interested in the way Hollywood used to be, I definitely recommend Inside Daisy Clover.

Blow by Blow

I recently read Blow by Blow, a biography of the late style icon Isabella Blow. I was really excited to read this book because I had been longing to learn more about the glamorous eccentric stylist. Plus, the book had all the inside scoop since it was written by her husband of almost 20 years, Detmar Blow.



Blow by Blow is a great resource for anyone interested in fashion. It provides an intimate portrait of Isabella, who basically proved to the world that style is an art form.

Although the writing is a little dry for my taste (Detmar is a former lawyer, so that didn't surprise me) it gives you a very clear view of a woman who had been a mystery to everyone, including herself.



It chronicles her struggles of trying to make it in the fashion journalism industry.

She was hired, fired, and rehired numerous times by major fashion magazines in the UK and the US.

Her closest friends included the fabulous designer Philip Treacy and Anna Wintour, the editor of US Vogue.

She also had a very tumultuous yet close friendship with iconic fashion designer Alexander McQueen. It is widely believed Isabella's death was one of the main reasons McQueen couldn't go on with his own life.



One of the biggest surprises to me was how Isabella's background was just as fascinating as the woman herself.

She was born to an aristocratic, yet not entirely wealthy, British family. As a little girl, she was well aware of the famous scandals and secrets her ancestors bore.



A loveless childhood, filled with deceit and longing, shaped her soul. By the time she was in her 20s, she partied with reckless abandon and displayed an alarming wild nature. Although she was extremely ambitious when it came to her career, she was deemed unprofessional many times.



She would often take spontaneous vacations without telling her boss, which frustrated her former editors, such as Andre Leon Talley. Her excessive spending earned her many pink slips in the workplace and caused her family to plunge into debt.



But she was never without work. Isabella's genius when it came to fashion could not be ignored.

After all, she had discovered the designers Philip Treacy and Alexander McQueen.



Despite an impressive career in fashion and being an international celebrity, Isabella could not get rid of the dark cloud hanging over her head. Ever since young adulthood, she had become more and more depressed. No amount of money in the world or the highest accolades could make her happy. She was, quite simply, too sad to live.



She attempted suicide several times before finally succeeding with poison in 2007.



Her death was a horrific shock to the fashion community.

But even a never-ending sleep can't take Isabella away from the world.

Her infamous style is a living, breathing legend.

In fact, Lady Gaga is a walking tribute to the international fashion icon. The pop star has based her entire look on Isabella.





Isabella's life and style is extremely inspirational. She was a woman who knew what she wanted in life and grabbed it by the balls.

From the time she was a lowly personal assistant to Anna Wintour in the early 1980s until being a big-shot editor herself in the 2000s, Isabella always stayed true to herself.

She wasn't afraid to show off her outrageous style and she didn't care what people thought about her.



And that's what made her so fucking fabulous.

Paranormal Activity

I just got back from Illinois. I had no idea a three day trip could be so action-packed with horror.

I just had to share with you what happened:

As soon as my parents and I arrived to town after an eight hour drive, we discovered the hotel had given away our suite. And they had no other rooms left! Pissed, we went all over town looking for a hotel room. Every other major hotel in the city was booked for that night as well. Eventually, we managed to find two rooms at a shady little motel by the highway.



I was very distraught by the situation. My room looked like something straight out of a horror film. There were giant dark stains all over the carpet, the comforter, and the walls. The lamp kept flickering on and off, like a strobe light. I was too scared to sleep in the bed because I was worried it may have bed bugs or bodily fluids inside of it. I got no sleep.

The next day, I was exhausted. The funeral was lovely and had included a couple Swedish songs and funny stories about my great-aunt. Her son, my mom's cousin, is the COO (one step under CEO) of one of the biggest pizza chains in the world. To surprise him, 20 top executives from the headquarters flew the corporate jet and took chauffeured Escalades to the funeral. It was impressive.



The reception was held at an adorable Swedish restaurant where we all feasted on Swedish pancakes with lingonberry sauce, Swedish meatballs, pickled herring, and apple cake.

That afternoon, I went shopping with my cousin and aunts, but I was too exhausted to be any fun, and unfortunately, it showed. So we called it a day and went our separate ways before the evening.

To my delight, my parent were waiting with good news. The hotel which had lost our reservations the night before felt so bad about it, they were giving us two honeymoon suites FOR FREE that night!



Overjoyed with the news, I immediately gathered my belongings from the scary motel and I rushed to my new suite. I spent an hour soaking in the suite's heart-shaped jacuzzi with a glass of white wine and my mystery novel. It was like being in heaven.

Of course, things took a turn for the worse.

Snuggled on the couch in my big fluffy white robe, I was watching Criminal Minds and all of the sudden, the channel switched to CNN. I hadn't even touched the remote! Confused, I switched it back. But then, the channel switched, by itself, to the History Channel. Before I could reach for the remote, the volume on the television turned all the way up by itself!

I was so freaked out, I shut the television off and ran into the bedroom. I rationalized that the living room television was broken.

So, I started watching a Hilary Duff movie in the bedroom. But again, out of nowhere, the television turned off on its own and the lights in the bedroom turned off! I was officially scared. I ran out of bed, turned all the lights back on and called Rian, stuttering what was happening. He insisted I was overreacting and perhaps the electricity wasn't working. In the middle of his trying to comfort me, the clock radio turned on by itself and blasted an Usher song. I went to the clock radio and discovered that it was turned off but it was still playing music somehow! Shrieking, I unplugged the clock radio and the music stopped.



Rian was tired and I reluctantly got off the phone with him. A few minutes later, the hotel phone rang. I picked it up. There was nobody on the other end. All I could hear was static. My heart pounding, I unplugged the phone and submerged myself beneath the covers of the king bed.

I was so incredibly frightened. I wished with all my heart that I had been sharing a suite with my parents that night. It was that bad.

The next morning, I woke up after a restless sleep and went into the shower. I was going over the previous night's incidents in my head, when I looked through the glass door and saw a figure in front of me. I let out a blood curling scream and the figure screamed as well.

After a minute of hysterically screaming in the shower, I realized the figure was my mom. My parents had been trying to call me that morning but were worried because I wasn't answering my cell and the hotel phone was off the hook. So my mom got a key from the front desk and came in to check up on me.

It only took me five minutes to get dressed, quickly gather my belongings, and get the hell out of the suite that morning. What a nightmare!

And after an eight hour long journey, I am finally back home.

I need a drink.

See you soon...

Well, I'm heading to Chicago for my great-aunt's funeral. So I will be gone for a few days.

I will probably be back on Friday.

In the meantime, check out my post below.

Also, on the right, I have included a link to my blog's facebook page.

Have a great week!

Prom Dress 911

I hate to say it, but I barely remember my high school prom.

I didn't have a romantic date. I didn't have a lot of friends who attended. All I remember is riding around in a limo with a boy I barely knew, taking photos with his friends I didn't know, and eating a disturbingly slimy pasta dish at an overpriced restaurant.

The actual dance is foggy to me because I may or may not have spent the entire night in the hotel lounge nursing spiked punch.

The one prom memory I will never forget, however, was my dress.



My dad gave me two stipulations. The dress had to be less than $300 and it could not be "sexy." The latter didn't phase me. Despite a healthy apetite for alcohol and a burgeoning pill problem, I was still fairly innocent. The $300 limit, however, seemed unfair.

Because let's face it, I have always had expensive taste.

I was also determined not to repeat my Homecoming dress experience from the previous year. I had let my mom buy me a turquoise and yellow dress from J.C. Penney for $35 (on sale). It was hideous, but I was desperate to attend the dance. As soon as I entered the darkened gym, I started glowing. And that was when I realized the stupid dress was GLOW IN THE DARK.

A girl never forgets a lesson like that one.

Well, after months of shopping with my father, I was about to give up. We simply could not agree on a prom dress.

Finally, a week before prom, my dad took me to a mall in Cleveland, which was about an hour away. The plan was to look for a dress and grab dinner.

The first store we went was Cache. As soon as we entered the store, I saw it: the most perfect dress I had ever seen. It was my favorite shade of pink and just the right amount of puffiness. It was a dress fit for a princess. But it was $350.

I begged my dad to let me try it on. Maybe if he saw how cute I was in it, he would change his mind about the price!

I entered the tiny little dressing room with the dress and put it on.

It was magic. I looked STUNNING.

I reached for the door handle, to fling open the door so I could showcase the fabulousness...but the door wouldn't open.

I tried opening the door again. Nothing. I twisted it harder. Nothing.

I was stuck in the dressing room.

Normally, I would have crawled underneath the door. I was five feet tall and 93 pounds. Not a big deal.

But the door went all the way to the floor. And the walls and door of the dressing room almost went all the way up to the ceiling.

I started screaming. And all of the sudden, for the first time in my life, I became claustrophobic.

My dad alerted the sales clerks and they were flummoxed. They couldn't open the door and they had no idea how to get me out! They called mall security and those guys didn't know what to do either.

Finally, it was agreed to call the fire department.

I spent 30 minutes alone, hyperventilating in the tiny dressing room, wearing the dress, while all this happened. I was crying. Strangely, more and more people kept crowding around my dressing room, talking loudly and laughing in disbelief. Apparently sales clerks and customers from other stores had heard about my situation and came to witness it for themselves.

Since it was nearing dinner time, my dad came back with some hamburgers and after a few attempts managed to throw a hamburger to me over the giant wall. It was a small comfort in such a stressful environment.

When the firemen came, I could hear them arguing over who was the smallest and thinnest man to be hoisted over the giant walls and lowered into my dressing room.

Before I knew it, a cute 20-something-year-old fireman was being lowered into my dressing room with a harness.

He seemed initially startled at the sight of a tiny brown girl who was stuffing her face with a hamburger between sobs while wearing a giant pink prom gown. But he collected himself gracefully and soon became very charming and even complimented my dress. It was awkward being pushed against him in the tiny dressing room as he used some tools to pick the lock.

When he opened the door, I was greeted by a crowd of dozens of people who started clapping. It was like being a celebrity! I didn't even care that I had crumbs all over my dress and mascara running down my face.

In the end, the store ended up giving me my dress for free. If I had been smarter back then, I would have sued the store for thousands of dollars because of the emotional damage. (I have become extremely claustrophobic since the incident, to the point where I can't even be in elevators).

But at the time, I was happy to simply have the dress I wanted for prom.

Sadly, the dressing room incident was way more exciting than the dance itself.

But dammit, I looked good.



And isn't that all that really matters?