2016: Our Own Upside Down World

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2016 began, for me, with a small spell of alcohol poisoning.

And, the year never really lost that distinct aftertaste of vomit, Prosecco and wasted promises. The last 365 days were exhausting. I just finish getting over my last brassy dye job, only to see baby white hairs sprout again. And as a final “screw you,” I now spy them in my eyebrows. As if I didn’t inflict enough damage on my damned brows in the ‘90s, now middle age will finish the job of completely eradicating my brows.

#Blessed makes me #Sick

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Can you #killme before I #choke ?

Oh gosh, forgive me, I forgot that I am supposed to feign positivity instead of being honest.

My negativity is grating, and I just don’t care. Can I be forgiven for intellectually knowing that I have it pretty damned good, but internally feeling down and out? Can I eliminate myself from the hashtag blessed bullshit that permeates every adult conversation I’m forced to endure? Yeah, I get it, I could have it so much worse, but instead of respecting that, I’m going to complain about everything. I am nothing if not consistent. Well that, and a bummer.

Pain is relative. We can’t all compare our own pain against those with more pain. Pain is pain, and to engage in insipid conversations about how much worse life could be doesn’t actually make anyone feel better, not for any longer than that talk lasts.

2016’s Little Pockets of Love

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“Stranger Things” dominates 2106.

There were rainbows of coolness that sprang from the mushrooms of shit, little pockets of love like Winona Ryder’s cool-girl reemergence in “Stranger Things,” and Netflix’s newer installment of anxiety-inducing terror, “The OA”. And, The Lumineers’ “Cleopatra” is just about as good as it gets for music to my ears.

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Jaon’s Isbell’s Twitter presence is one of the better things in life.

I was transfixed for every second of FX’s “The People vs. OJ Simpson” and  transported to my idealistic youth and my horror at the OJ trial outcome.  I went to see Jason Isbell at the College Street Music Hall in  Connecticut, and I remembered that life is beautiful and talent like his is an amazing thing.

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If only I knew as much about geography as I do about Scientology.

A&E’s new hit docuseries “Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath” is perfect for my Scientology obsession. This show gives Leah Remini the role of a lifetime and shows that Scientology is scarier than “Stranger Things” upside down world.

Awash in Melancholy

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“April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land” T.S. Elliot’s The Waste Land

But, it’s not all Pop Tarts & Quaaludes here, peeps.

In April, Prince died at the age of 57. To make Prince’s death even worse, he died from an accidental drug overdose and it was like a final blow- not because I think less of Prince because he used drugs but because I thought he was one of my idols that didn’t. The thought of Prince, alone and dead in an elevator at Paisley Park isn’t how I wanted him to go.I’d much prefer to think of him dying in his sleep surrounded by a harem of women, blanketed in purple sheets of the highest thread count.

But 2016 didn’t care about that kind of stuff. We lost Prince, Barb, David Bowie, Leonard Cohen, George Michael, Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds,to name a few.

But, let’s not get too down, right?

We lose Carrie Fisher, an actress from an acting dynasty, a sharp-witted writer, a paramour of rock stars and an all-around extraordinary person. She was chock-full of demons, honesty and zingers. But, we get to keep Lena Dunham, a woman from an influential family, fully equipped with a pricey  education and a rock star beau, a ridiculous lack of humor and a book that is actually unreadable.

Making fun of Lena Dunham has become easier than ridiculing the Kardashians, so in 2017, my resolution is to stop. Not because I am being kind, but because she’s just so boring.

My Celebrity-Stalking Side Gig is Booming

Between furrowing my brow and applying coconut oil all over my face, I found time to snap pictures with some of my favorite celebrities.

To celebrate the 4th of July,  I did what any good American might: I planted my whole family on a hot beach to watch  Tom Hiddelston & Taylor Swift fawn all over each other. My sunburn had barely healed before I I met lil’ Rhody’s favorite alternative rock goddess, Tanya Donelly. Not to be outdone, I capped off the year with a  New York City encounter with one of America’s original, smart and cool gals, the awesome Sandra Bernhard.

The Kardashian Curse Spreads

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Kim Kardashian’s unattractive cry gets real. Image by How Should I Sass You

For another year, I want to thank the Kardashians for all the entertainment. The ne’er-do-well son in a family filled with losers procreated with Blac Chyna, only to implode in a nasty split that coincided with their own reality show. Kim & Kayne’s marriage lasted another year, but not without a mental breakdown and an awesomely awful burglary in Paris.

So, I’ve been thinking, can we start blaming everything on the Kardashians? That’s my plan.

Book Recommendations

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Beware, I only dig disturbing books.

Well, I do still take time to read books, and here are a few recommendations:

Hunger Makes Me a Hungry Girl: A Memoir by Carrie Browntein

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi

A Mother’s Reckoning by Sue Klebold

The Girls: A Novel by Emma Cline

All the Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

My Name Is Lucy Barton by Elizabeth Strout

Happy New Year, y’all!

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Shake the holiday horror by ridiculing Kayne West & partying like Ed Sheeran.

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Don’t trust that smirk, I’ve been hating the holidays since 1981.

I don’t think this is going to knock anyone off their pleather recliner, but I detest the holidays. Not even a drunken Christmas party can push me into the holiday spirit. Don’t worry, I feign happiness and muddle through with the whole damned thing: I select the most outrageous tree I can find (while inwardly whining about the cost), I hide that creepy Elf on the Shelf and spend gobs of money on a bunch of presents that I know I will defiantly vacuum up in eight months.

Blame it on my bad childhood. Why not? I blame everything else on it.

So, this holiday season, I outwardly smile and squeeze into last year’s ugly holiday sweater while guzzling enough alcohol to think that Elf on the Shelf is edible. I bought myself an expensive party dress for a party that I’ve not received an invitation, and I daydream that my obsession with the Church of Scientology will someday materialize into me joining the cult and boycotting Christmas.

Ho-Ho-Ho!

But hey, there’s always important stuff to take my mind off my holiday blues.

Kayne West is a Joke without a Punchline

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Kayne, this is how you do a mental breakdown correctly.

Even Kayne’s breakdown is boring. Can’t this guy use Britney Spears, Savior of Mental Breakdowns, as a guide? She did institutional-level madness right in 2007, she used props like an umbrella and an electric razor. Kayne’s got a porn star wife and two kids with silly names.

What is Kayne going mental over? That he sold his soul for Ray J’s gal or that he’s a complicated artist with no real art? Kayne is such an amateur, in the fashion world, his love life and with his own mental undoing.

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Looks like love, but it smells like money.

I want to laugh at Kayne Wests’s public meltdown, but he’s not even cool enough to be funny.The man is a joke and his talent is slipping away as quickly as his marriage is dying. I don’t even know where to start: his clothing line consists of beige leotards with a passion for camel-toe and his mother died from complications of budget liposuction.

Royalty, rock stars and redheads.

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How do you party like a royal? Ed Sheeran’s face just got more interesting.

How do I miss these party invitations?

I hope that Ed Sheeran was very numb on the night that Princess Beatrice sliced his pale cheek while jokingly attempting to knight one-hit wonder & “You’re Beautiful” crooner, James Blunt.

Yes, I’ve got that right. In a very unfortunate (or kick-ass) party, Princess Beatrice, daughter of toe-suckling Royal bad girl Fergie, sliced poor Ed Sheeran’s face with a sword while attempting to knight James Blunt.

I can’t believe the bloody Brits are acting out like this, when it’s the good ol’ USA that just got Trumped.

Angelina’s & Brad’s Divorce: Bleaker than ‘Allied’

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Angelina appears as pissed off as she has since, well, since she was born. What did this Midwestern boy do to cause such vitriol?  This divorce is looking worse than the box-office returns of every non-animated movie Angelina has ever made, produced or even breathed on.

Make no mistake, Brad Pitt is the clear winner here. Angelina looks petty for taking their divorce so public when she’s always asked for privacy involving her army of brats, and he frees himself from Angelina’s soulless clutches. In the words of a now-deceased friend, she’s day-old donuts and he’s Brad freaking Pitt.

The Weeknd Just Saved 2016’s Pop Music

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Bella Hadid & The Weeknd: At least it’s not Gigi Hadid?

I have a real thing for The Weeknd and am happy that he released ‘Starboy’ and drugged his way back into 2016 before it quickly became the worst year of pop music on record. Let’s just forgive this Ethiopian King of Bad Boy Pop for dating permanently-scowled ‘Housewives of BH’ spawn Bella Hadid because he’s a pop star and he can.

In the world of celebrity sisters, these Hadids are better than the Kardashians & Jenners. Bella is far cooler than her older sister, Gigi Hadid, whose hosting of the American Music Awards was almost as cringe-worthy as Ciara’s stab at the same gig last year.

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Gigi Hadid- Move over Ciara, we have a worse awards show host.

How did I forget that Milo V. existed?

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Milo, I forgive you for ‘This Is Us.’

I never realized how much I missed this vision of male facial hair done right until he strolled onto Gilmore Girls and trotted onto my worst nightmare, ‘This Is Us’. But, it’s okay, Milo, ‘Gilmore Girls’ was excellent and I appreciate how many times you disrobe on ‘This is Us.’

Yes, this is where I lose my audience, right? I’m about to make fun of the perplexingly popular drama starring fallen star Mandy Moore and that hot guy from ‘Heroes.

‘This is Us’ is a sucker punch to the lowest common denominator- America’s heart. What a weep fest, for a bunch of unlikable characters.Let’s throw in an obese woman, a dying long-lost father, a celebrity with low self-esteem AND a lying mother. Wow, did the writers secretly have a seat at my Thanksgiving table?

And, Mandy Moore’s acting is as bad as her portrayal of Ryan Adam’s grungy wife.

Well, happy holidays to you all, I am going to start on the Best & Worst of 2016 soon. Something tells me the bad may outweigh the good!

Just don’t get me any freaking Christmas gifts because I didn’t get you any.