Situating

The majority [ALL] of my male friends pretty much think The Situation of “Jersey Shore” is some sort of prophet. This would be depressing if it wasn’t funny—and true. On last night’s episode he unveiled a life plan so simple and yet so poetic. The regime is a three-prong approach as such: Gym, Tan, Laundry. My first question—after my head exploded—was, how much laundry can one person produce? Because the daily tanning made sense of course. But The Sitch likes to keep things tight. And by tight, I mean pressed, steamed, starched and spot-cleaned. After all, can’t be throwing a bedazzled Christian Audigier in the spin cycle now can we? For those of you shaking your heads in disgust, listen carefully…that’s the sound of a gajillion eager book editors plotting their next bestseller-turned blockbuster film-turned multi-million-dollar licensing deal.

Beauty/Beast

Good god! Miley Cyrus has some impeccable taste in mancandy. And her mancandy, subsequently, have no taste at all.

Flutter

So Leap Year isn’t exactly on my Oscar Hopeful list, but Matthew Goode could be in a movie about dog-killing Republicans and I would still go to see it on opening night. Wowzah.

Blehhh

In the current “30 Rock” story arc, Cheyenne Jackson plays a Canadian street performer who beats out a string of other actors (one of who, trivia: went to my high school) for a spot as the next “TGS” cast member. He’s pretty and smiley. Sarcasm flies right over his head. He prob has washboard abs. And wow, he would be 10 times more exasperating if he was a real person and not someone we are all supposed to laugh at on TV. But wait. The folks over at “The Bachelor” are a few steps ahead of us (and a few behind “30 Rock”) with Jake EFFING Pavelka, who is insufferable and the lifesize version of Canadian washboard guy. He makes my skin crawl in so many different directions. And I’m pretty sure this season is going to end with a Jack Nicholson-style massacre during which Jake spells “rose” backwards in blood on the walls of the mansion and all of the bachelorettes get lost in a big maze of hair extensions.

Ski Bunnies

I’m an equal opportunity reality show watcher. It’s called giving peace a chance. Or something. So I def DVR’d that new "Hobags [Secrets] of Aspen" show that premiered last night on VH1 and suffered through its entirety. And now for a PSA: Do not attempt a similar feat. You will emerge ripped limb-from-limb by a swing-dancing 25-year-old, dripping in massage oil rubbed onto your body via a Target-shopping townie and choking on an acid wash jean newsboy cap (complete with side pocket) coated in Aquanet. But, you know, not in a good way.

Blow Out

On the roller coaster of fame, this is what we call the initial, nearly-indiscernible descent that will soon be followed by a plummeting nosedive.

Crazy Heart

Finally one to rave about…Crazy Heart is an exceptional film. Jeff Bridges is effing heartbreaking and Maggie Gyllenhaal—who usually kind of annoys me (did you see her in Away We Go? I’m pretty sure she was playing herself)—is subtle and sweet and pitch-perfect. While I am not a country music fan by any means, the soundtrack is mesmerizing in that hard-living, smooth-talking, Johnny Cash kind of way. Loves.

Not Acceptable

So there is basically no way to dress for sub-20 degree weather without looking and feeling like the Michelin Man. This morning I was contemplating just belting my down comforter, no joke.