I Miss My Little Mermaid Backpack

An accurate portrayal of Catholic school.

Unless I fulfill the plan of eventually going for my masters degree, I will never have another first day of school again. No more Staples and Target and Office Depot runs to make sure I have the best collection of highlighters and Lisa Frank accessories. No more sharpening pencils. No more awesome jelly roll pens. No more flashy keychains and notebooks and backpacks. The one thing that made summer’s end a little less sour was back to school shopping.

Sauts’ first day circa 1994

My Little Mermaid backpack was the shit. I’m feeling very nostalgic and it isn’t even #TBT. I weirdly miss the preparation that went into it all: checking each item off the list, laying out my clean uniform or 1st day clothes, deciding how to wear my hair, and making sure I had a legitimate excuse for not finishing my summer reading list. Everything was simple then. The seasons were more pronounced. Summer was summer because school was out. It was fall because school was starting and you had to have the sluttiest best Halloween costume in your sorority class. Winter meant Christmas break and a million presents. Spring meant it was my birthday, the most important time of the year almost summer. Now summer just means it’s hot and kids are running around everywhere. Seasons are only the weather and everybody is just working for the weekend.

Jambo!

The first day of school was also terrific because it was a fresh start. You’d have all of your new school supplies, some new teachers, new grades… etc. It was like that at the beginning of each semester. Those fresh starts come less frequently (or more, depending on how you look at things) the older you get. Now, the only “fresh start” adults seem to have is the New Year, but let’s not take that too literally. If you had a midget orgy on Christmas Eve and went streaking through Mass at the local church, the New Year isn’t going to give you a clean slate like that never happened. Let’s be real.

Am I freaking out because I feel like I need that clean slate? Do I need some kind of fresh start with my life? Do I need something new? Something different? Maybe I’m just freaking out because time is flying by and here I am, already 23 years old – an age that once seemed so old to me. So adult. Am I a grown-up? Maybe I’m just freaking out because my younger siblings are hitting milestones that I feel like I experienced yesterday. Today is the first day of school. My Little Bro is beginning his senior year of college (he’ll feel my pain soon enough) and the Baby Bro is starting middle school. Middle school. My baby brother is entering the grade I was in when he was born. Cue mindfuck. Besides the fact that I would never go through middle school or high school again, part of me is jealous that he has all of that ahead of him – so much time to learn from his sister’s alcoholism and troublemaking mistakes. What am I talking about? I don’t make mistakes. I’m perfect.

Also, if I see another stupid fucking Target commercial singing about backpacks or denim jeans or pencils I am going to consume bath salts and gnaw everybody’s faces off. That is a threat, Target. And Payless, I am not a goddamned paleontologist.

Love you. Mean it.

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Why Don’t I Have A Grammy Yet?

I’ve been called the songbird of my generation.

If we aren’t friends (in which case, you should reevaluate your life decisions),  then you need to be aware that I live my life like a never-ending Broadway musical. Singing always. All the time. Singing. Sorry I’m not even sorry a little bit. We should start a band.

Last night, a fellow blogger and dear friend of mine chose a karaoke bar for her birthday venue. It was, in a word, phenomenal. Although I don’t think my body has ever produced so much sweat outside of spin class, last night was a fabulous reminder that there are very few places I prefer to be more than on a stage entertaining a crowd. The beautiful thing about karaoke is that you can sound excruciatingly horrible and still have a delightful time rocking out. Everybody is drunk and nobody really cares if you’re singing ABBA slightly off key or don’t know the verses to Sweet Caroline.

Tonight… it’s my turn.

I almost feel like I need to apologize for semi-monopolizing the mic last night. What can I say? Sometimes, the music just takes a hold of your soul… Lady Marmalade just, like, does that to people. At one point, I most definitely commandeered a questionable rendition of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” – so to those two gentlemen, you’re welcome.

I’m well aware that not everyone can be as electrifying as me enjoys karaoke. Although those of you without any musical ability whatsoever make excellent audience members and fans, you need to carpe diem and give it your best shot. This is me inspiring you because  I’m obviously a really inspirational person.

Allow me to be your Karaoke Spirit Guide!!!

First of all, know your voice. Sing in the car. Sing in the shower. Sing along with me. Are you country or rock’n’roll? Are you more of a Britney or a Beyoncé? Can you hit those high notes? Knowing your voice is, like, crucial for your song selection because song selection is, like, crucial. Personally, I prefer to begin my night with a Xanax good warm up song like “Bennie & the Jets” – classic and always a crowd pleaser. From there, I move on to something a little more embarrassing vocally challenging.

Ermagerd keraehrker

The second and more important key to your karaoke success is confidence. Although confidence is a good quality to possess in general, it is particularly useful in the art of  *Japanese accent*  karaoke. My young Padawans, the point isn’t to go up on stage and sing a song. Oh, no. You must own the microphone. Own the crowd. Entertain the masses. And don’t forget your liquid courage. By the end of the night, you and your fellow patrons will be so blacked out that you’ll think you’re Celine Dion.

Screw recreational sports… Who wants to start a karaoke league with me? All of you? Wow, I’m so popular.

 

Hey baby, let’s duet.

Just Do It… Yourself

Do you like to… do it yourself?

DIY, bitchesDo It Yourself crafting has been a guilty pleasure of mine since childhood – guilty because I thought the only other people who did it were moms and obese mid-western women. I’m obviously neither. However, the addictive treasure that is Pinterest has made DIY all the rage and I am embracing it wholeheartedly.

After somehow still being single after this long making a DIY pillowcase this afternoon, it occurred to me how much of my apartment has been influenced by Pinterest and DIY crafting: the painted chevron canvases over my kitchen table, the miscellaneous frame and photo arrangement above my couch, the magnets on my refrigerator, the necklace hanger next to my vanity desk… the list is embarrassingly long. Following this bitchin’ pillowcase I made today, I think I need to admit to all of my fans and myself and my roommate (sorry Lo) that I may have a problem. Hi guys, my name is Alex, and I think I’m a celebrity am addicted to alcohol arts & crafts.

Buy my new DIY Vajazzling Kit!

Am I a 5-year-old trapped in a 23-year-old’s hot and sexy body? Why can’t I stop crafting? It’s an obsession. Like, why don’t I currently have a hot glue gun in my hand? Where are my stencils? Why haven’t you repinned every single thing I’ve pinned in this lifetime? Can I just paint, like, everything? Why am I still single? Where are the scissors? Can I make a gift basket for anybody? What do you mean that’s too much glitter? Ugh, I must create. Thank heavens I have friends as equally as obsessed with Pinterest as me or else everyone would probably be wondering why I’m not Martha Stewart a preschool teacher. I also use this as one of many terrifying phenomenal examples of why I will make an awesome stay at home mom someday. You can add that to my psycho potential future mother of your children resumé. #Linestartsherefellas

Anyway, BRB while I try to get a life look up trendy patterned fabrics for another project. I’m amazing. In the mean time, here are some of my masterpieces. Love me. Worship me. Repin me.

I like to… do it myself…

P.S. Can someone please explain to me why the fuck my must have Robert Allen Cats Cradle Papaya print is nearly $18 per yard? How am I supposed to finish my new DIY pillowcase collection when I am a peasant? I’m depressed. Buy this for me? K thanks.

Love you. Mean it.

Everybody Needs A Xanax

HBO has done it again. Sure, it took me a couple of episodes to get hooked – but I’m told that’s also what often happens with cocaine. The Newsroom has become my brand new and highly addictive 8-ball. Aaron Sorkin’s skills are genius, and even though I can recognize a few repetitive lines from his other works, the fast-paced dialogue is stuffed with the perfect blend of wit, drama, and intelligence. I’m obsessed.

I’m not sure why Mackenzie MacHale is so shocked that everyone thinks Will is an ass “ahss”. He is an ass – isn’t that why we like him? He’s bitter and cocky and the kind of angry man that I love to kill with kindness. McAvoy isn’t going to take bullshit from anybody and regardless of an individual’s political party, he’s going to grill them in order to make sure America gets the facts and the best leadership possible. Charlieboy was right, he is the lawyer America needs – the country’s new anti-hero. Boom. Sure, he’s certainly got some insecurity there that’s fueling the bitterness, but I love how human he is. He’s flawed. It’s beautiful. Jeff Daniels deserves an Emmy nomination, if not a win.

Who is Honey Boo Boo!?

In my opinion, McAvoy’s EP is the character who makes the show. Mackenzie MacHale is a fucking nut. She has no friends, a disastrous love life, and if anyone deserves a Xanax prescription (besides Maggie), it’s this crazy bitch. My favorite parts of the show are during her freak outs when she is screaming at either Will, her employees, or herself. Anybody really. Despite her hilariously batshit reactions to absolutely everything, MacMac possesses an adorable vulnerability that makes it impossible for me to hate her. Once again, cue the Emmy nods.

LGFU.

The rest of the all-star ensemble cast is terrific. I’ve developed an enormous girl crush on Sloan Sabbith/Olivia Munn. She’s badass and sexy and smart and it’s continuously making me question my sexuality. Did I just become bisexual? Possibly. Contrastingly, one chick I would never ever go bi for is Maggie. Vom. Despite Alison Pill’s brilliant acting, I consistently want to punch Maggie in the face. The only thing about her I can relate with is her severe anxiety – panic disorder is a bitch – but I don’t understand how her fashionista roomie hasn’t given her a majorly needed makeover yet. And I don’t understand how she has two guys that are obsessed with her. Am I missing something? Ugh, nice girls like her set off my gag reflex.

Characters I like: Sloan, Will, MacMac, Charlie (Law & Order, rep it bro), that asshole Don, Slumdog Millionaire, Jim, Jane Fonda because she’s such a bitch, Will’s bodyguard, and Bernard from The Santa Clause Will’s psychiatrist.

Characters I don’t like: Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, cockblock Reese (even though he’s sort of a babe), and Jim. I can’t decide if I like him or hate him. Can him and Maggie just do it and get it over with?

Characters I don’t really care about: So, I just realized that Tara’s alcoholic mom from HBO’s True Blood is also on Newsroom. Talk about a mindfuck. This is weird.

Will McAvoy gave me peyote and killed my demon!

Everybody on this show needs a Xanax. They’re all constantly spazzing out and speaking faster than me during finals week a sorority girl on too much adderall. Plus, a little drug usage certainly couldn’t hurt the entertainment value – remember when Slumdog Millionaire gave Will some MDMA and he has to report the Bin Laden story while rolling? Classic. However, one of my favorite aspects of the show remains how fucking insane everybody is. Everyone freaks out. Everyone screams. I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream News Night 2.0!!! 

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

Are Ya Kitten Me Right Meow?

Prrrrretty wasted right meow…

I’m not sure who society seems to dislike more: cats or cat lovers.

As a disclaimer, I feel that I should just note that I am not saying cats are necessarily better than dogs – so all the dog fanatics out there can cool it on the haterade. I don’t want to give anyone a stroke. Unless you give me a reason to give you a stroke.

I can haz high five?

Cats just have a bad rap. Please allow me to rant: I find it absurd that people often tend to generalize the entire felis catus species as if they’re all the exact same creature. Do you like all of the humans you meet? I’m going to assume that you, like me, do not. I don’t like all of the dogs I meet either because, like humans, I tend to judge creatures on an individual basis. Except rats. Fuck rats. I judge cats the same way as I would an individual human or dog. Some rock; some don’t. I’m convinced it’s those creepy, gross, fluffy cats with the weird eyes who make the weird noises that are screwing shit up for all of the other felines out there. The ones that move like cat robots and always sound like they’re dying. You know exactly what I’m talking about. If you don’t, well, they exist.

I’ve found that many people have an issue with the stereotypical cat. They’re often thought of as “selfish” and “mean” and “lazy” blah, blah, blah. Meowever, I will courageously admit that I am a cat lover – a catvocate, if you will – and I’m going to give you 5 reasons why:

1. They’re independent. Cats are only going to bother you if they legitimately need something, like food, so they can, like, not die. There’s no need to walk them, no need to engage them, and best of all – you can leave them home alone for days with a supply of food and they’ll be good to go. This is the #1 reason I love them because, let’s face it, I’m not nearly responsible enough to take care of anything that is dependent upon me.

Hakuna Matata, bitches

2. Hygiene. One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that, overall, cats smell considerably better than dogs and most other pets. Don’t even try to argue with me on this one. This is probably because they’re constantly grooming themselves. Yeah, it’s weird to look at. Don’t look at it. But, hey, they’re self-sufficient animals.

3. The Cat Family. Ever heard of Simba, bitches? King of the Jungle, the plain, Pride Rock, whatever. The felidae family contains some of the most awesome species to walk the earth. Lions, tigers, panthers, jaguars, leopards, cougars, cheetahs, lynxes, and ocelots are some pretty wondrous relatives to have. The first person to buy me an ocelot wins my undying love and affection.

4. They’re Sacred… in ancient Egypt. The ancient Egyptians worshipped cats. Worshipped. Like, they were literally considered holy creatures. I should be considered a holy creature. According to really legitimate sources, cats in ancient Egyptian society were referred to as mau and were not only praised for their “ability to kill snakes such as cobras,” but became symbols for “grace and poise.” As someone who is weirdly obsessed with ancient western civilizations, this makes me like cats 100x more. Mafdet and Bast are my homegirls.

5. They’re Sexy & Cute. I’m not talking about bestiality here you sickos. I’m talking about Catwoman, Josie & the Pussycats, Pussy Galore, and all of the sexy kitten Halloween costumes. Like, hello, they’re called sex kittens. That’s sexy. Prrr. Meow. Oh baby.

Many people except for Steve Carell in Crazy Stupid Love say that nothing can be sexy and cute, but cats are clearly the exception. They’re likeOMFGsoooocyuuute. Give me a kitty right now. I want one now. At this very moment. Give me  this one:



I once heard a comedian compare the stereotypes of cats and dogs to those of men and women. She made an excellent point, saying that everyone parallels cats to women and dogs to men, when in fact it is the opposite way around. Think about it, women (typically) need constant attention, affection, and reassurance. They always want you to do something with them even if you think it’s stupid. They get sooo excited to see their significant others. It’s doglike. Men, on the other hand, don’t give a shit – and that is what makes them like cats. This comedian was a genius. I wish I could remember her name right meow.

So, all the cat haters out there can give them a break. Give me a break, since I’ll probably end up an old cat lady anyway. I The cats don’t care if you don’t like them, because they know think they’re superior to you and their servants owners anyway.

Right Back Where We Started From

Is Alex M on Jersey Shore now?

Happy Throwback Thursday, minions. I’ve spent the majority of my day being a productive adult watching the Laguna Beach marathon on MTV. Ultimate throwback – also the ultimate way to remind me that I’m not getting any younger. This is like a time machine back to 2005 when I was desperately attempting to fit that California girl stereotype. 75% of my wardrobe was Abercrombie & Fitch, and when I wasn’t in my school uniform, you bet I had my ripped jeans and Rainbows on. I am was a bratty, rebellious, troubled, dramatic wild child – determined to “discover myself”… or whatever. We all thought we were invincible. It’s mind-blowing to see how people can change (or don’t change) over the course of 7 years.

That AC/DC shirt. Want.

The OC was easily a favorite back in the day. Despite how horrible half of the acting was, I kept watching it because it made me feel unexplainably phenomenal and glamorous. I can’t describe it. Maybe it was the theme song. Ryan’s sexy brooding scowl. Seth’s lovable dorky comments. Marissa’s thinspiring bod/drug habits. How the Cohens were, like, the most awesome parents on the planet. Pretty sure it was the theme song, because those tunes were the best fucking character on the show. If you didn’t have, like, all six CD soundtracks mixes, you were probably a huge loser and should maybe reevaluate your life choices. Who doesn’t continue to listen to The OC: Mix 3 – Have A Very Merry Chrismukkah every holiday season? Classic. And I wish Phantom Planet’s “California” was still my ringtone. Oh, the memories.

Also, there’s this.

RIP Coop

Shows like The OC and Laguna Beach were fun and youthful and brought no severe thoughts of the future – which is probably why it can be a little depressing watching them again, knowing how everything has turned out. Let’s start with The OC: Marissa/Mischa has had her weight gain/loss/gain/loss, the relationship with Cisco Adler, and the serious decline in notable roles. Like, what else has she even been in besides The Sixth Sense and that movie about Canadian lesbians? Plus, Coop died and that was a really emotional time for me. Seth/Mr. Brody ended up playing the bad guy in Jennifer’s Body and I don’t remember what else – don’t care –  but I do know he hung out with some friends of mine at The Huntley recently. Summer/Rachel Bilson is dating Hayden Christensen. Acceptable. And little Ryan Atwood/Bennyboy is on some LA cop show I just DGAF about. They ended up okay compared to the majority of their “Real Orange County” frenemies…

I feel strange admitting I’m totally Team LC since for some peculiar reason all of my friends think they’re cool being Team Kristin, but whatevs. She’s the only one who seriously banked on her reality TV stint. The Hills was, at one point, my ultimate guilty pleasure – so she gets extra points for that. Minus points for not trying to become my BFF when we were at the same table on Halloween. As if. Jason had some DUI’s and ended up in rehab. Winning. Apparently, Stephen is an “actor” and MTV has him pathetically making comments about his current life in between each episode of this marathon. Like, it’s making me feel desperate for him. As for Alex M, uh, so much for that singing career. Maybe she should call up MTV about any vacancies on Jersey Shore. I couldn’t care less about what the rest of the LB cast is doing, but I know that poor Talan has to go through the rest of his life with the name Talan.

I’m too sober for this.

… And let’s not forget about Kristin Cavallari who just had a baby. A baby. As in she procreated and is now a mother. As in she is now responsible for a tiny human. Granted, this isn’t nearly as frightening as the fact that Snooki is spawning, but it weirds me out like no tomorrow. K-Cav is only 2 years older than me. Homegirl, you’re 25. Why? Just, why. To lock down your QB baby daddy? Why would you do that? I- I’m confused. This is just a confusing and thought provoking event for me. Where’s my xanax?

Thanks to MTV for this lovely melodramatic marathon  – a great reminder that many people hit their peaks in high school and to pray I don’t hit my peak anytime soon. Nostalgia…

My darlings, I leave you with this treasure:

It’s Not The Years, Honey, It’s The Mileage

I just discovered the most wonderful news of all time the past hour – Raiders of the Lost Ark aka the first installment of the Indiana Jones collection, will be returning to cinemas in September. Fully restored. In IMAX. I could pee myself. The only catch is that it will only be playing for one week and I personally think that is really fucking stupid. Like, these movie execs must be confused… I don’t understand why we have to put up with garbage like Piranha 4D and anything related to Tyler Perry, yet this classic film is only being rereleased for a mere 7 days. Why. Why. Why. But, seriously.

Whip me baby one more time

Unfortunately, I’ve found that very few of my female peers share my infatuation for Dr. Jones. To me, that seems almost blasphemous. If you didn’t grow up watching films like Indiana Jones or Star Wars, it’s like growing up in California without ever having been to Disneyland – I have to question the validity of your entire childhood. It’s like, next you’ll be telling me you’ve never heard of 90’s Nickelodeon staples such as Salute Your Shorts and The Legends of The Hidden Temple.

True Story: When I was about 4 or 5 years old, I was in the car with my mom and I was still young enough where I didn’t quite grasp the concept of “age.” Okay I realize that sounds really dumb (I was actually a really smart kid you guys, I swear), but many children don’t understand that when they age, adults continue to age as well. It’s common to assume that all of the adults in your life are going to stay that way forever, because you’re 4 fucking years old – the age of 12 is an eternity away. Long story short, I’m a little nugget in the car with my mom and declare that when I grow up I am going to marry Harrison Ford. He was, after all, both Indiana Jones and Han Solo. My mother began to laugh and continued to inform me that my beloved Harrison Ford was only TWO YEARS younger than my GRANDMA and by the time I was an adult, he would be a very old man… I cried. I literally sat there in that stupid 90’s minivan and cried. I was never going to be Mrs. Solo-Jones-Ford. I consider that my first heartbreak.

I can’t count how many times I’ve seen each film. One summer, I swear my brother and I watched each one at least 5 times. We would reenact the memorable scenes – like in The Temple of Doom when the guy’s heart gets ripped out. Come to think of it, we still reenact the memorable scenes… My family is weird. So, in case anyone had any doubts as to exactly how near and dear to my heart the Indiana Jones series is, now you know.

The film is being rereleased on September 7, so who wants to take me? Line starts here, fellas. #helpmeimpoor

Heroes

In an attempt to be selfless, I want to give a shout out to a few of my favorite sites. They’re witty, in vogue, and always down to party. I not only look to them for inspiration and entertainment, but for the necessary reassurance of my lifestyle choices.

Betches Love This – Satire at its finest. Many people around the globe would probably be horrified to find out that 99% of their content is 100% true, but that’s part of what makes it such a phenomenal website. It essentially describes privileged and entitled white girls of my generation – which is basically, like, most of my friends. Over the past several years, I can’t count the times I’ve read a new post wondering if they were tapping my phones or stalking me. It’s amazing for a laugh and I can’t live without their TV recaps of shows like The Bachelorette and Mad Men. (www.betcheslovethis.com)

BroBible – Okay, I know I’m a chick following a bible for bros… but I’m obsessed. Not quite as satirical as the Betches, BroBible contains just the right amount of hilariously frattastic douchebaggery to make it a gold mine. Sure, half of the time I’m on it I’m neurotically wondering if some of their misogynistic posts are written directly at me, but that is overshadowed by its insight into the minds of men and its entertainment value. Facebook Follies and Ask A Bro rarely disappoint. Also, they follow me on Twitter. (www.brobible.com)

iKarAboutYou – Penned by the witty and accurate Kara Buettner, iKarAboutYou is easily one of my favorite blogs. She writes about world events, entertainment, and post-grad life in a way that will keep you glued to every post. Through her savvy social media skills, Kara has become one of my favorite humans, so you should also follow her on Twitter (@KaraBuettner) – you won’t regret it. (ikaraboutyou.com)

Fair-Haired Flair – For the fashionistas out there, Lexi Aiassa’s trendy blog is filled with outfits that will make you want to instagram the shit out of everything. Lex comes up with fearless ensembles – both innovative and classic. Not only are her posts enormously pinteresting, but they’re a great inspiration to liven up your wardrobe. (www.fair-hairedflair.blogspot.com)

Swimming In Champagne – Speaking of pinteresting, this newbie to the blogosphere is sure to be a real gem. My friends and I love to party (duh) and get creative while hosting our own soirees – if you’re anything like us (and why wouldn’t you want to be?), then this will provide you with inventive and chic ideas for any affair. I’m really excited to see where Champagne‘s mamas Sarah Eigner and Caroline McMurray take this baby. Don’t forget to follow on twitter, obvi: @SwimsInChamps (www.swimminginchampagne.blogspot.com)

Design The Way – Caitlin Baunach is a graphic design junkie and queen. Her blog is filled with fun fonts and thrilling visuals that make me look at the world’s details a little bit closer (awww) – definitely worth a look. (www.designtheway.com)

27b/6 – David Thorne is an Australian living in America and he, like most Australians I meet, is hilarious. This guy wins Class Clown for the entire world. Highly recommended for a laugh. (www.27bslash6.com)

White Girl Problems – Written by Babe Walker. There’s a book too. No further explanation needed. (www.babewalker.com)

I Probably Think This Song Is About Me

Greek mythology tells the story of Narcissus, a hunter renowned for his beauty. As the legend goes, Narcissus was hunting in the woods one day when he caught his reflection in a spoon while he was eating his cereal a nearby pond. He was so mesmerized by his own beauty that he fell in love with it and, unable to leave his own reflection, eventually died.

Wow, you’re ridiculously good looking, maybe you could do that for a career.

So, unless you’ve got the IQ of Derek Zoolander, this mythological tale is where we get the term narcissism. Blogging, to me, has always seemed to be somewhat narcissistic. Why would I logically assume that people would care about anything I had to say? However, after an eternity a few seconds of self-examination and constant reminders from ex-friends, my psychiatrists, and my father, I’ve accepted that I am indeed a rather narcissistic individual. In my defense, why shouldn’t I be? I’m awesome… but that’s besides the point. My vanity isn’t isolated – it’s widespread throughout my generation. We were the kids who received a trophy even if we didn’t win, the ones who were told we were special and could do anything we wanted, and the little girls who were told we were beautiful even if we weren’t. We were raised to care about ourselves more than we probably deserved.

The self-centered idea that anyone might actually care what I have to say is only supported by my 600+ Twitter followers (I’m popular) and the numerous requests for me to start a blog. So, dear fans, here I am.

I can’t help it that I’m popular.

I’ll do my best to make this party entertaining, grammatically correct, and somewhat relevant.

Read me. Follow me. Worship me. Love me. Fantasize about me.

Who’s the fairest one of all? Me, duh.