The Fame Game.

Ok, so I've just spent the last 30 minutes discovering a new online toy: www.myheritage.com

The obsession begins when you click on the celebrity look-alikes link and a prompt comes to scan your photo in. The "scanner" will "read" your picture, then provide you with 10 celebrity look-alike photos. The program will tell you what percentage your photo matches the celebrity.

It is really an interesting concept...and some of the matches are amazing. I never realized how much Amanda Bines and I look alike. Another hit I got a few times was Laura Linney and the flute girl from "American Pie."

BUT. Do I really look like Lisa Ling? Lance Bass? David Schwimmer? And better yet, how do I go from looking similar to an Asian woman to a gay blonde man within the same picture? Hmmm.

And here's the funny part. I scanned a picture that had a former boyfriend in it...and the first matches at 80% for the two of us: Lance Bass (me) and Magic Johnson (him). Ummmm. Could that be a sign of why the relationship didn't work?

Note to self: Find the freaks who are STILL watching American Idol and isolate them from the herd, thus leading them to a Darwinian "death." Let's rid our tvland of reality tv!

Are you from around here?

If there is one thing that separates city mice from country mice it would be the mastery of the mass transit system. Does it take a trained eye to tell the difference between a "local" and a "tourist?" No. Here's why.

1. Tourists display MTA...mass transit anxiety. It can take a number of forms, but is most commonly displayed in these ways:

• The look of terror at the realization that one has gone the wrong way on the Metro.
• The fidgeting and constant checking of the map on the side of the car/bus...as if they missed their stop between the last time the doors opened and the current moment.
• Those who get picked from the herd as the Darwinian doors of the Metro close and they don't fight through.
• Those who resemble the nerdy kid who is searching for a seat on the school bus as there are no available seats...and the thought of being the ONE person standing is too much humiliation for one ego to take.
• Why do they hate standing? Because these tourists don't have "Metro legs" aka know how to position/brace themselves so they don't trip/fall/stumble when the Metro starts/stops.
• Statue syndrome. These idiots get on/off the car and just stand there as if their will to walk has ceased to exist. Perhaps prior experience of going the wrong way has scarred them for life.
• The cringe of disgust when a complete stranger sits next to them...or tries to talk to them. It gets even more severe when said stranger smells and tourists are not used to smelly transportation.

2. Locals heckle the tourists. These meanies will stare and laugh, point and laugh, scream and swear, push and shove, etc. Why do they heckle? Because it was done to them...they feel the need to keep the tradition alive since they too were the subjects of public humiliation when their dollar bills wouldn't go into the bus meter.

3. Locals also know "the rules" of traveling...aka...what you can and can't bring on the Metro with you. More importantly, the locals know what they SHOULD or SHOULDN'T bring. Tourists are the freaks trying to carry 8 bags and luggage during the morning commute.

4. Locals don't laugh at the colorful characters who are regular riders of public transportation.

5. Locals sleep and read on the Metro. Tourists are too stressed out to relax and do anything other than focus 100% of their attention on getting off at the right stop.

AND THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE: if anyone in a security uniform asks you, "are you from around here," the locals KNOW to answer NO since they have obviously broken a law of some form. Right McC? =)

NOTE TO SELF: Practice acting like a local...or the therapy is going to get too expensive.

Hump Day...with a special kick.

SO yesterday was a helluva good time. (insert sarcasm here) Let me 'splain.

A) It was the most dreaded of all Hallmark Holidays, which my friends and I have aptly renamed "Single and Celebrating" Day. Instead of molling around and feeling like poo because a few of us do not have a significant other to tell us how rad we are with some fattening (yet tasty) chocolates, we did it ourselves! We gathered at Mitchell's casa for some awesomely bad-for-you food and watched "Little Miss Sunshine." Good times had by all SACers.

2) Oh, and did I mention it was a snow day? So, good eats, good times, NO STUDENTS. Sometimes it's just too good to be true.

D) Oh yeah...it WAS too good to be true. Did I mention that we didn't have school due to the .5-1" of ICE we had the pleasure of receiving overnight? Did I mention that Mitchell was the only one of us with POWER (aka HEAT), so it was only natural that we meet at her crib? Not to mention the complete RETARDS that drive on such perfectly dry roads slowly and STOP when the ice is falling like gigantic hunks of hail from the trees, thus allowing more gigantic missile-like ice darts to pierce the sanctity of your vehicle whilst trying to escape the frigid cold of your power-less house! But I digress...

Note to self: Sometimes making lemonade out of life's lemons would be easier WITH AN ELECTRIC JUICER!

A pot of Gold's.

The gym is a place wrought with intriguing observations about people. And the gym which I attend is no stranger to the mysterious behavior that is displayed as people get their sweat on.

1. "Street-clothes" guy. This is an individual which apparently doesn't realize that there is a multi-million dollar industry that is devoted to workout wear. This person sweats, runs, and lifts in his street clothes. I'm talking jeans, heavy fabric shorts, IZOD tops, etc. How?!?!?! Why?!?!!? As said individual peels himself off the bike, sweat dripping from his face, it makes me want to smack him with my Nike Dri-Fit towel! I wonder if he knows that he can go to Target, invest $10 in some mesh shorts and a t-shirt in order to be more comfortable. Idiot.

2. "Smelly" guy, deodarant-deficient type. This dude is the one that is obviously a member of the "I don't need it" clan. OH YES YOU DO. The air that I breathe when running needs not to REEK of your nasty B.O. The best part is this guy always appears at the treadmill/machine/stretching mat next to me. Yesssssssssss. How can he not smell himself? Should it be a law that you reapply deodarant prior to leaving the lockerroom?? I'd hate to be the one that has to wash his yellow-pitted polo shirts.

3. "Smelly" guy, gas-x type. Oye. I understand that some people have issues when it comes to gas and gastrointestinal distress. I happen to be someone who suffers from gastrointestinal distress. BUT, I DON'T STINK UP THE GYM WITH FART SMELL. Goodness gracious. The gym has 2 sets of bathrooms to remedy the problem, use one...PLEASE. And once again, this guy ends up at the treadmill/machine/stretching mat next to me. And I know what you're thinking, just breathe through your mouth. Umm, then I can taste it too. Iew.

Note to self: Bring a can of air freshner and see if Oust really does work.

Girls just wanna have fun?

We celebrated Amandahanukkah last night in Federal Hill. Good times were had by most (I spilled half a glass of red wine all over my pants). I found an intriguing way to measure girliness as time passed with the posse of Amanda fans... Here's the hitlist:

1. Our "party favors." These were favors indeed in the form of a blinking plastic heart ring. We are beginning a tradition where anytime we all get together, at least one of us must be blinking. LESSON: I have abnormally large fingers = less girly...everyone but me could fit said ring on right hand ring finger. I was the pimp with the pinky ring. But trust me, I rocked it right.

2. Happy Hour at Nacho Mamas. The scene of the diss: "I didn't peg you as a picky eater." AND the discussion of "When a guy says to me, 'nice ass,' I know it's time to lose weight." LESSON: Girly girls like to point out "negative" things about others in order to make her feel more worthy. Don't worry M...Karma is making it's rounds.

3. Dinnertime discussion....and perhaps the scene of the largest girliness meter. How devasting is the news that Liz Clairborne has taken over Kate Spade? NOW, if you even know that these two things are actually companies, you are in fact female. LESSON: However, if this news is the central aspect of conversation for at least 25 minutes, and you continually believe that is the worst thing in the world during those 25 minutes, you are indeed a girly girl.

4. Dinnertime discussion...part 2. What is everyone wearing? Shirt colors, styles, and how similar everyone is is a key element to girliness. LESSON: If one girl is an "outlier," she must be plucked from the herd.

5. Dinnertime discussion...part 3. How can you tell if a Coach purse if fake? Should Target sell expensive jeans and/or Coach purses? This is how Darwin's natural selection process begins. LESSON: Since I prefer cost-effective accessories, I will never be a girly-girl. I don't care if it is real or fake...is it cute? pretty? large enough to hold my wallet, cell phone, and other important items needed on a regular basis?

6. Makeup reapplication. After drinks and dinner, it is appropriate to reapply lip products. Which lip product is used? This is the measure of girliness. LESSON: Lip gloss = understated flirtation/chic. Lip stick with mirror and lip gloss = umm, girly girl?

Note to self: Although I thought I was becoming more girly, it is VERY clear to me that I am still a tomboy in disguise. But at least I have a cool blinking heart ring. =) PS: club soda is AWESOME.

S.A.D.

One has to love the amount of acronyms we have in our lexicon today. We are always looking for shorcuts, nicknames, and the like to make our language faster and easier. Need I reference our insane obsession with short names (J.Lo, Diddy) or how many different acronyms we could list in 10 seconds that we use in our daily lives...

But there is a newer one introduced to me via a contest from a local radio station. S.A.D...Singles Awareness Day. Let me 'splain.

S.A.D. is the more common celebration of February 14th...the one and only, most repulsive of all Hallmark Holidays, and the bain of many people's existence. I'm not and never have been a fan of 2/14...but do we need to call single people "sad?" Are single people sad as in boo-hoo or sad as in pathetic?

Being a singleton myself, I'm not sure "sad" is an appropriate term to describe my state of mind or being. I happen to think I've been better off than the handful of times I've messed with actually celebrating the date in the way in which Hallmark had intended.

Or is this a scam from Hallmark to make more sales by offering a line of "sad" cards? Hmmm...any ideas on creative messages for those pathetic singles out there?

Note to self: make plans with single pals for appropriate hate-fest of St. Valentine.

A Flury of Prayers.

It has happened again.

A few shards of white fell from the sky today and all of Maryland has gone straight into a snow-freak-out frenzy. After school activities were cancelled. Students and teachers alike are speaking volumes about no school probability and how much/little snow/ice we're supposed to get.

All I can say is GET A GRIP! Are you serious? If one were to look outside at this very moment, it is simply cloudy and cold. It's not even raining. Just because some weather guy said it MIGHT snow does not mean it actually will snow.

Oh, and PS, snow accumulation actually means that...ACCUMULATION. There should be evidence of said snow to warrant cancellations, delays, and frenzies. Not the thought of snow.

Think of what life would be like if we freaked out simply at the thought of things happening.

Oh wait, they did that in Boston yesterday. My bad.

Note to self: Start rumors of a mudslide occuring on Friday...cuz if it doesn't snow, I'm having one!! =)