Netflix Guilt

So I'm not a Jew, so the whole guilt thing isn't really my shtick, but I was recently informed of a little thing called "Nextflix Guilt."
And boy oh boy, am I guilty.

Netflix Guilt is said to be when one hangs on to a movie that has arrived from their cue, but for some reason cannot find it in themselves to watch it. For my boyfriend, it was Benjamin Button, and the excuses were endless. For me, it is currently Grey Gardens. It arrived on the 30th of December and sits quietly in its little white sleeve, just waiting. Its not like I don't have the time, I am currently watching St. Elmos Fire just to see Rob Lowe's earring, so if I've got time for man jewelry, I've got time more Grey Gardens.

I find the same problem on my instant cue. Nearly 200 movies that I have identified as wanted to watch for some reason or another, but every time I open the cue, I cannot find it in myself to watch them.

Why dear Netflix must you torture me so?

The Perfect Boot

Six minutes into the new day, and it's already got me down. Maybe it is because this week's Housewives reminded me that Rita is dead and Dexter will be a single dad serial killer. Or maybe this week's Brothers & Sisters reminded me that Rob Lowe still thinks he is better than every successful show he does. Maybe its the Oscar noms all going to Inglorious Bastards, or maybe it is because Howard Zinn is dead. It is probably just because I have to be up in six hours and I'm to bummed out to sleep.

So the one thing that always makes me feel better? Other than narcotics or a rum and dc?
The perfect cowboy boot.

And how, you might as does one identify the PERFECT cowboy boot?

M-Material. The best boot is ALWAYS real leather. Don't let the fake stuff fool you.
It may look good, but does it smell like leather?

A-Attention to detail. Is the sole actually stitched and made by hand,
or is faked with plastic?

G-Gut feeling. Do they make the butterflies flutter in your tummy?

I-Instep. Fit should really come after all of these others.
Why bother trying them on if they don't make the cut?

C-Cost. Don't think that wonderful shoes should cost an arm and a leg. My favorite boots were a mere $30.





Love the photos? Get them here.
Love the boots? Get them here.

Gossip Guilt

A recent post by my dearest friend Ariel, and last nights seedy and sultry episode have resulted in my single obsession: Gossip Girl.  I know I should be ashamed.  I know I should pretended to not give a damn about Dan and Serena, Blair and Nate, and especially Blair and Chuck, but the Waldorf-Vanderwoodsen-Bass-Humphry clan has got me hooked.  I don't know if it's all the gossip, all the sex, and the fabulously fabulous clothing, or the fact that they make high school everything it never was or could have been, but whatever it is it is good.

Other than my childlike love for iCarly (don't knock it til you try it--Nick can do no wrong)  Nothing can take me away from Gossip Girl, not even my dear friend Dr. Gregory Masochist House, who now fights Gossip Girl for air time.  

I just wish I could know what it is these kids--or twenty-somethings do to make the hour of programing so irresistible that it even has my very level-headed  mother watching calling me to ask "is there a new episode next week, I must know what will happen to Serena!"

This is one kind of gossip I just can't do with out.  Dare you to miss it!

xoxo

Bobbi Noodle

Tube Tied

After a long day, I took to watching back episodes of the new NBC show Cupid last night.  A good twenty minutes into the romantic comedy my worries, troubles, aches, and pains began to vanish.  I had, and for a good few hours found myself lost in the glory of television.  I wish I could say this was not a regular occurrence.  I wish I could say that not nearly every evening in my week was spend this way, but alas it is.  I sometimes spend my afternoons in bed dreaming that if the great artists like Proust and Watteau lived now, they would be highly less productive and also love America's Next Top Model as much as I do.

I fear its become an illness greater than the illness that confines me to my bed.  Gossip Girl has not been new in two weeks, and like a dear friend who is equally concerned and P.O.ed, I just have to say "What the fuck are they doing to us!" 

Some people--mainly my mother--think that this television (which lets face it, is now mostly web-based) addiction is going to kill me, or at least rot my brain.  Alec Baldwin thinks so too.  But you know what I think?  Screw them.  Sometimes there is nothing greater than getting lost in a 47 minute love story to avoid 47 minutes of your own.