Rachel McAdams' Superhero Ability

As the holidays approach, everyone has their set of movies they just have to watch during Christmastime.  One of mine is "The Family Stone."  You know, the one with Diane Keaton, Claire Danes, and let us not forget, Sarah Jessica Parker.  For all intents and purposes, I'm unsure of why I like this movie so much because I find Sarah Jessica Parker's face to be outright frightening.  Something about her translucent blue eyes remind me of a vampire.  And her pointy nose reminds me of a witch.  And (Lord forgive me) her face in general reminds me of a horse.  So, as you can imagine, a vampire- horse-witch is breathtakingly scary.  You understand.

Anyway, to my point.  Rachel McAdams also stars in this film.  And there's a scene where the vampire- horse-witch gives all of the family this portrait of Diane Keaton's character preggers with Rachel McAdams character.  And I kidd you not, R.McAdams starts crying on the spot.  Which, of course was scripted.  But you know when you watch a film and can tell they're just making the ugly cry face and it's truly insincere?  She is the opposite of that.  She produces some deep, emotional, crying.  Kind of like the crying I did during "Marley & Me," except a little less hysterical.

And it made me remember "The Notebook."  Didn't she cry two or twenty times in that one?  But with her, you never think, "Ew, this is some overacting and I feel embarrassed for her."  Much like how I feel anytime I see Vanessa Hudgens act in anything.  Including real life.

Thus, this is how I found out that Rachel McAdams superhero ability is most certainly the ability to cry, believably, on the spot.  A useful, and lucrative (in her case), ability.  I think her crying is more believable than my actual, real-life crying.  Though, as we all know, I don't cry and I don't have a heart.  Just an empty bowl that can only be filled by cereal.  The Grinch knows where I'm coming from.

To end this, instead of sharing a compilation of Rachel McAdams displaying her superhero ability, I'd rather share with you this montage of Claire Danes doing the ugly cry face.  She does it quite often in the majority of her work.

Shit Chloe Says

"All 8 months of senior year were great.  Except for those 4 when you were a fucking vegetarian.  What the hell was that?  Just kidding, senior year was the best.  But no, really.  What the fuck was that?"

Take note kids, Chloe does not approve of vegetarianism. 

From the Fashion Graveyard - Sleeveless Turtlenecks

I distinctly remember sleeveless turtlenecks being a big thing around the end of middle school and beginning of high school.  Looking back now, I wish I could punch me in the face for wearing them.  Though, in my defense, everyone was doing it.  Remember kids, that excuse is only valid for purposes of fashion and drug use.  THAT'S IT.

Anyway, these garments literally do not make sense.  You see the turtleneck and think, "Oh, wintertime, that'll keep you warm."  Then you notice that it has no sleeves.  It's like trying to divide by zero.  There is no answer, you cannot compute.  However, for some reason, it seemed like a fashionable choice at the time.  Best of both worlds!  Winter time around the neck, and summer on the arms!  We cray, ya'll!

I had them in 5-6 different colors.  Which further provides proof of the whole, when I like something, I really really like it.  There is no middle ground.

Since I refuse to provide you with a photo of me in middle school (trust me, you don't wanna see the braces and bushy eyebrows combo), instead, here's a photo of Jennifer Love Hewitt sporting one.  I figure the two go together, since they are both epic fails.  OH! And bonus!  She's sporting some ho-hoops.  We'll address that fashion trend in another post.

Shit Chloe Says

One of my fondest memories of my college roommate and I occurred during a lovely winter snow at Carolina.  Mind you, I grew up on a tropical island, so snow was not very common.  And by "very common" I mean not at all.  Needless to say, experiencing an actual winter was pretty exciting.

Anyway, this conversation occurred during our walk from class back to the dorm:

Me (more excited than a child): "OH MY GOD.  LOOK AT ALL THE SNOW ON THE GROUND."

Chloe (not impressed):  "Yeah."

Me: "CAN I THROW A SNOWBALL AT YOU?"

Chloe: "No."

Me: "PLEASE, CHLOE.  PLEASE, PLEASE.  JUST ONE."

Chloe: "No.  Don't."

Me (throws snowball anyway): "HAHAHAHA."

Chloe: "Fuck you."

Best friends forever, ya'll!

Also, in case you're wondering why all of my lines are in caps, it's because I'm always yelling. Always.

Things I Love - HobNobs

One of my life goals is to eventually develop a British accent.  And, in the by chance that I have an offspring, I plan to raise them for at least the first 10 years of their life in the U.K. so they'll also have an accent.  I know, my aspirations are inspiring.

Point here being that I love several things from the U.K.  One of these things being HobNobs.  If you haven't heard of them, they're these cookies, or as the Brits call them, "biscuits," that are made of oats and goodness and covered in nature's candy (chocolate).  I originally heard of them when Britain's Sweetheart, aka Britain's Britney, aka Queen Cheryl of Cole, aka Cheryl Cole, talked about them in an interview and said they were her favorite.

So, being that what celebrities say is usually dependable and trustworthy, I found it necessary to buy them during my first trip to New York City.  I mean, if they're good enough for my friend Cheryl, they're good enough for me.

And dear God, they are delicious.  And by "delicious," I mean amazingly delicious.  Combining sweet carbs and chocolate always produces positive results; ask any doctor or scientist.

I highly suggest you buy a pack anytime that you can.  I figure if I eat enough of them, I'll just magically develop an accent.  That makes sense.  Queen Cheryl approves this message.

Shit Chloe Says

During a discussion regarding how we put on our bras, this little gem came about.  I'll give you no further context, and just leave it open to interpretation:

"If you have boobs in the front, you can't have boobs in the back."

Winning -- Women's Soccer Edition

So back in April, it was announced that the Men's and Women's National Soccer teams were receiving new uniforms.  Makeover!  They made their luxurious debut at the Olympics this past weekend.  And while being criticized as looking like "Where's Waldo" and a remix of Paraguay's uniform, I happen to like them.

For some reason, when I think of soccer on the grand scheme of things, grand scheme being everywhere else in the world aside from America, uniforms with stripes seem to appear more legit.  Sorry bout it.  That's just the way it works.  FC Barcelona?  STRIPES.  Argentina's National Team?  STRIPES.  Really, I'm just declaring the teams Messi plays for to be absolutely legitimate.  You get the picture.

Anyway, in regards to the above picture, this is what winning truly looks like.  Please note how all of the ladies are all smiling as if to say "Woo! We're excited! We're at the Olympics!"  Meanwhile, Hope Solo says, "Bitch, I'm at the Olympics."  Tyra taught her how to smize apparently.

Actually, in regards to what winning looks like, please refer to these genius snapshots from the match against Colombia:

It's gotta be the neon green cleats.  When I grow up I want to be Alex Morgan.

Literally a photo of Abby Wambach scoring the second goal of the match.  Not gonna lie, mostly including this photo because look at the hair on the player from Colombia.  It's like a magical unicorn mane.

Laura Cheney just wants to be your FRAAAAND.

Sidenote, in case you didn't know because you're living under Patrick's rock, the US won 3-0.  Just the norm.

Shit Chloe Says

Me: "Yeah, so anyway, they kind of call her 'Skeletor' as a nick-name."

Chloe: "Oh my God.  I would never want to be called Skeletor.  I mean, unless I was really skinny, in which case I'd be like 'OH HAYYY, I'M SKELETOR.'"

Own it.

My First Love

Brace yourselves, things are about to get serious.

I felt it was about time that you readers knew who my first love was.  I find this to be a critical aspect to any blogger/reader relationship.  So you can fully understand where my high standards for the opposite sex originated from.

So, here he is:

THAT'S RIGHT, FREDDIE PRINZE JR.  

I first fell in love with FPJ (my pet name for him) in elementary school, the height of said love was probably around sixth grade.  Remember back in the day when all of those extremely-cheesy teen movies were rolling out non-stop?  I mean, at an alarming rate.  Well, the king of said movies was non other than this smoking hot piece of man.  Forget actual acting abilities, those are not important.  In fact, it actually pained me to watch him act in a majority of his movies.  Thankfully though, his face made up for the searing pain.  

May we remember such cult classics as "She's All That" and "Down to You"?  DON'T EVEN ACT LIKE YOU DON'T KNOW.  "She's All That" especially.  I think TBS has some sort of special connection with it, because it's on TV literally once a week.  Alternating with "Mean Girls."  Apparently a bunch of teen girls run TBS.  Perhaps I should look into employment there, with people of my intellect level.

Anyway, in quite a few of his movies, he played the same character.  The good-looking, sensitive high-school athlete with a tortured soul.  Needless to say, in real life, boys in high school are nothing like FPJ.  Far from it.  You will not meet a soccer player who looks like him.  DREAMS, CRUSHED.

Let us not forget that this beautiful man-specimen is married to the following:

Oh my goodness! I can so see the appeal! NOT.  Let's just say that the day they got married was a dark day in my life.  I find comfort in the fact that she's merely a placeholder though.  You know how golfers put down those little dots on the green to mark where their ball is?  Right, she is that little dot.  I'm the actual ball.

Sidenote, I'm actually exercising quite a bit of restraint here by not making inappropriate jokes.  You're welcome for my self-censorship.

Anyway.  While his actual acting career may have peaked with those "I Know What You Did Last Summer" movies, I'm okay with that.  I think when we get married, I'll recall to the press about how those movies made me love him when I was younger.  Kind of like how Katie Holmes used to have a crush on Tom Cruise.  Except, FPJ will not go crazy and will not be involved in some sort of Seahorse-Spaceship religion.  Guaranteed.

Let me conclude this insightful life post by requesting that you don't tell Zefron about FPJ.  I don't want it to be a dealbreaker should he propose first.  You understand.  

Shit Chloe Says

I love opening my GMail to see these missed GChat messages:

Chloe:  "Hello!!"
Chloe:  "Are you there?"
Chloe:  "I know you are there"
Chloe:  "I see FBook activity"

And sometimes, if the Chloe realizes I can't talk on GChat at work, but for some reason Facebook Chat works, she will say the following:

"I will wait for you on the Facebook."

Go find your own stalker, Chloe is taken.

Deep Thoughts On ... Pretty Little Liars

As you have probably realized by now, I have the media taste of a 14-year-old girl.  Thus, a series like "Pretty Little Liars" of course appeals to me.  Drama! High School! Gee golly, a novel of a concept! I joke, but I really do like the show.  Maybe this is why I have trouble forming an appreciation for a sophisticated show about adults with relatable storylines like HBO's "Girls" (which, by the way, based on the advice of my friend Greg, I kept watching.  Second review to come later).  Right, so, I've been getting caught up on on the newest season that started a few weeks ago and thought I'd share with you some deep, thought-provoking thoughts that the show makes me ponder.  (Yes, I said thought-provoking thoughts.)

Apparently, they cannot afford electricity.
Which is odd, since, like in every other dream-world teen drama, all of their parents are pretty rich.  So then, why, I must ask, do they insist on doing everything in the dark?  I mean, I know when I'm snooping through my psychologist's desk drawers or hacking into my principal's computer, I like to have some lights on.  So I can properly see how to handle things.  This was also noticed by my Mom, who greatly dislikes the show, who stated, "Those girls are silly.  Why are they always running around in the dark?"  Preach, girl.  Which, running in the dark is hard.  And they're always in situations where they have to run in the dark through the woods or through a graveyard.  Really?  If I ever had to run through anywhere in the dark, you better believe I'd have flashlights, lamps, and the Bat signal attached to my body.

And what is with the power always getting cut off?  And then, after the lights in their house "suddenly" shuts off, they just wander around in the dark, asking why the lights are off.  Bitch, please.  One time in high school I came home after it was dark and the power was off.  I literally stood outside (you know, plenty of witnesses) and called my parents repeatedly.  Let me note, they were attending a mandatory parents meeting for my senior trip.  BUT LISTEN, THE POWER WAS OUT.  THERE COULD'VE BEEN MURDERERS LURKING.  OR GHOSTS.  OR MADONNA.  Anyway, I essentially begged them to come home and waited outside until they arrived.  You know, much safer that way.

Lucy Hale continues to be on my Mortal Enemies List.
As I have previously noted, Lucy Hale, who plays as Aria on the show, is atrocious.  My great disdain for her is mostly rooted in the fact that she LOST THE SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELING PANTS, PANTS.  Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.  It was a pivotal moment in history.  In Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, when they all get to Greece, fracking Lucy Hale shows up in her atrociousness and admits that she lost the pants.  THE MAGICAL PANTS.  That bitch.  AND, to make matters worse, NO ONE PUNCHES HER IN THE FACE.  Listen, all I'm saying is that if me and my friends found a pair of magical jeans that fit all of us perfectly then someone lost them, I'd punch Lucy Hale in the face.  Even though she wouldn't have lost the pants in the situation, I'd still punch her.  It seems right.

I want all of Spencer Hastings wardrobe.
So, in the show, Spencer is sort of the alpha-female or HBIC if you will.  And what does every HBIC need?  An intricately fashionable wardrobe.  What's most interesting about her clothes is that she sort of dresses like a hip old woman who occasionally gets high. Medicinally, of course.  Lots of high waisted shorts with belts and chiffon tops.  I approve.  And plenty of cardigans and sweater vests.  WHATEVER, I love a good sweater vest.

Shay Mitchell has the best hair, ever.
No really.  And as someone who went to high school with a high percentage of Asians, I'd say I'm a pretty fair judge of hair.  Unfortunately, luxuriously silky Asian hair is yet another Asian feature I do not hold.  This could be in part to the years of hair straightening and having a White last name.  Anyway, if there was a way for me to go to the salon and get a Shay-perm, which would consist of making my hair look like hers, I would.  Maybe this is something she should consider marketing.  Since I know she obviously reads this blog, heed my advice, Shay.

Wearing a black hoodie like "A" does makes you superhuman.
There is an episode where Hanna literally hits "A" with her car.  I mean hits her.  And "A" just runs off like nothing happened.  Obviously the black hoodie she wears gives her superhuman strength while also acting as super-durable body armor.  Also, "A" is able to follow them around without them noticing.  Even through the woods.  Have you ever tried to sneak around in the woods when there's leaves on the ground?  You're about as unnoticeable as an elephant.

And thus, these are my thoughts.  I hope these thought-provoking thoughts on Pretty Little Liars proved to be thought-provoking for you.  Now I'm off to complete my plan of how to punch Lucy Hale in the face.  Toodaloo!

Ear Candy

FINALLY a new Passion Pit single.  Kind of a cool concept for a video.  Though, in the beginning, I would've gone with a dachshund instead of a beagle.  Let's be honest.


I'd like to note, I am still disgruntled over Passion Pit performing at UNC's Homecoming the year AFTER I graduated.  What is this nonsense?  I will forgive you, UNC, in time.  Til then though, I just continually watch this vid that my friend Sammi took of the concert.  You know, vicariously living through her.
.

Ear Candy

I've decided this is the song I'll play as I move into my overpriced, undersized New York apartment in the very near future.  This is the stereotype I assume I'll fulfill as a poor journalist.  Don't rain on my parade.  Now listen, and let's be hipsters together!

Shit Chloe Says

I decided to start this daily/weekly/however often type of post based on the fact that my roommate from college arbitrarily says some of the most insightfully entertaining things to me.

Remember, she's in med school.  Thus, these are the musings of a future doctor.

In a recent, one-liner email:

"Horrible girl got fat! #winning #sorryimnotsorry"

Later followed by:

"I mean, I know I binge eat, but at least I still look good!"

Best friends forever.

What Did We Learn From the Grammys?

So the Grammys are kind of like the Oscars for music. Although, the fact that T-Pain has actually won a few of them somewhat takes away from their legitimacy. Prior to the show, I laughed for a good 3 days straight over his comment about "being completely surprised" over not being nominated this year. That's like Duke being surprised about their student body being voted ugliest in the nation, just ridiculous. Anyway, quite a bit could be learned from this year's show. Here's my compilation:

--LL Cool J needs chapstick.

Did you see how many times he licked his lips? In the opening monologue alone, I'm pretty sure I saw the underside of his tongue more times than I've ever seen mine. He kept licking them, at every pause he made, as if to personify a comma. Maybe I'll send him some Burt's Bees. It was during his monologue that I also realized that he is voice twins with Mark Wahlberg. Go on. Close your eyes and listen to him talk, then listen to Mark Wahlberg. SCIENTIFICALLY PROVEN.

--Chris Brown still can't sing and dance at the same time.

First off, Chris Brown looks like an absolute douchebag. Aside from the Rihanna incident 3 years ago, he just looks like a huge tool. And not a useful tool, like a hammer or a screwdriver, no he's like that weird claw like tool that you're unsure of its use. Let me just say, Mr. Justin Timberlake can sing and dance simultaneously like there's no tomorrow, with no issue. I find it hilarious that Chris Brown even wears a mic. We all know you don't sing live, just embrace it. As for the dancing. I suppose it's "krumping" or something of the sort, but I'm not gonna lie, when he dances, I'm really unsure of what I'm looking at. I don't want to say it looks like he's having seizures, because that would be offensive to epileptic people, associating themselves with Chris Brown's dancing and what not. He kind of looks like me when I see a roach. So, this must mean that I have a future in music.

--All country singers are bald.

That's the only explanation I can think of for why they wear their cowboy hats all the time tipped low. For all we know, they have an extra eye they're hiding under the front of that hat. Actually, I wonder if the hair we do see is just attached to the hat. Like they put it on as a full set wig. One of life's mysteries.

--Rihanna's performance baffled me.

First off, I think she might have gotten ready in Ke$ha's dirty bathwater. Then the whole beginning of her performance consisted of her whine-singing like a pre-pubescent boy begging for his girlfriend not to dump him, while rolling around on the floor. Get up Rihanna, you don't know where that floor's been.

--Paul McCartney is apparently aging into an old woman.

During his performance, I kept thinking to myself, "Who does he remind me of?" Then it hit me. He reminds me of that old woman who greets you when you walk into Wal-Mart. Those softly arched eyebrows, that wispy hair. I have this urge to call him Gretel or Agatha or something. Don't get me wrong, I get that he's a legend, and I respect that. But maybe ease up on the Aveeno at night accompanied by a Botox shot. A few wrinkles never hurt anyone. Ask Robert Redford and his rugged manly self.

--Marc Anthony reminds me of the villain in Monsters Inc.

This was a complete epiphany. Again, I kept wondering who he reminded me of. Well, first I was wondering what he was doing at the Grammys to begin with. I think he might've gotten lost on his way to the teller to withdraw money from J.Lo's account. But anyway, remember that bad guy? Randall. That's his name. Whenever they showed Marc Anthony, that's all I could picture.

--Taylor Swift jamming out on a banjo is hilarious.

No further explanation needed. Is it even possible to "jam out" on a banjo? I feel like that's like me jamming out on a flute. Which, by the way, I can play a mean jazz flute. I might have to schedule a jam session with T.Swift.

--Adele is the Meryl Streep of the Grammys.

Seriously. I love Adele. Mostly because her music is amazing, and our voices sound extremely similar, but also because she seems like she'd be the most down-to-earth person in real life. Plus, she has a chav accent AND a dachshund. So, since I too have TWO dachshunds, I equate this to mean we're meant to be best friends. I mean, we have the same dog AND the same voice? Fate. Also, I laughed during the reading of any nomination with her in it, because the other nominees must've known the outcome. It's like when you decide to eat the fish tacos from Taco Bell, you just know you're gonna lose.

--Bon Iver looks like an 8th grade math teacher. Period.

I won't comment on the absolute trainwreck that was Nicki Minaj, except to say, only two people can do crazy performances. Gaga, who pretends to be crazy, and Britney, when she was actually crazy. I accept no one else.

What Did We Learn From The Golden Globes?

Well, award show season is upon us, and it's my favorite season. Except for sweater season, God I love sweater season. Anyway, I like to relate the award shows to dances in high school, because I'm highly sophisticated. The Golden Globes are kind of like Homecoming. The Emmy's are like Winter Formal. And The Oscars are like Prom. Sorry bout it, but all of you other award shows (People's Choice Awards and the such) are just weekend ragers.

Now, I first need to point out that Ryan Seacrest is one of my mortal enemies. In the circle of life, I'd be the lion and he'd be the gazelle. The very injured gazelle. So I have this sort of stockholm syndrome relationship with E! mostly because everyone on that channel is a complete idiot (except Chelsea Handler). So I'll never understand why I subject myself to their pre-show that consists of Seacrest and company being awkward pre-pubescent teens with a bunch of A-list celebs. Anyway, here's what I took away from this year's show:

E! hosts are idiots.

Here's some of my favorite examples from tonight:

"Brad Pitt just got out of the car and walked over to open the door for Angelina. It was amazing."

Kelly Osbourne said this with the most earnest look on her face. As if she had just seen Brad Pitt save an elderly woman from being hit by a car while also carrying an injured kitten under his arm. So stop the presses! Brad Pitt knows how to open a car door! The evolution of man is complete! This also makes me question the "amazing" things Kelly has seen in her life. Poor girl.

"And what color is your dress?"

Seacrest asked Reese Witherspoon this in regards to her obviously red dress. I included the photo, complete with comparison to the very red carpet, so you could see for yourself. Confused by his complete idiocy, she said "Uh, red." Does no one give him any topics to cover with them? I guess once I start covering the red carpet, I can just ask things like "And how many eyes are you wearing tonight? How many fingers do you have?"

"Are you excited to be here?"

Giuliana Rancic, the other failure on E!, asked this to almost everyone she interviewed. What answer is she expecting? That Mila Kunis will say, "Oh God no, I hate being given a couture dress to wear to an event where all I do is sit and get drunk." On this note, let me just say, if I ever become even a D-list celebrity, I plan to go to every award show there is and drink every bottle of champagne at said event. And at the big events, I plan to take shots with Meryl Streep and Helen Mirren. Needless to say, I will be excited to be at anything.

I have found my future career.

Watching the pre-show coverage of the red carpet brought about an epiphany. I should be an actor's "handler." You know, the person that you see standing next to them, kind of dragging them along from camera to camera. Now, I would partially do this to either (a) become best friends with the celebrity or (b) have an affair with the celebrity's husband. But really, I'd do this so I could photobomb every single one of their shots. Sure, I'd lead them into the center of the photogs. But then I'd slowly ease into the background to fully show off my dress that I got from the Prom section at Dillards. Represent.

When you become famous, you can choose to have any accent you'd like.

Apparently, Madonna is British. I guess if you're married to a British man at some point and spend at least 30 days in London, you immediately gain a British accent. I can understand this science. One time I had a layover in Italy, so now it's really tough to keep my Italian accent from coming out. Actually, to be honest, whenever I'm impersonating different accents, no matter what, I always revert back to an Indian accent. It's unavoidable. Must be from that time I flew over India. Might as well apply for citizenship. Back to Madonna. I must continue to say that I do not support her winning anything at these shows. Unless it's a bench press competition.

Meryl Streep is a bad bitch.

Actually, I didn't just learn this. I've known for ages. I think we were taught this in elementary school in social studies. Between learning about the Revolutionary War and Pearl Harbor, we covered how that if Meryl Streep is ever in any movie, she will be nominated for every award, and she will win. I mean, I'm pretty sure she'll win an Espy later this year. And probably the Stanley Cup. Additionally, she looked like she literally remembered 30 minutes before the show that she needed to attend (since she'd be winning everything) and threw on some clothes and rode over in her golden carriage. She is the only one who can pull this off. I'm sure every other actress spent their entire day primping, just so they could sit in the audience. But no no, not Meryl. She does what she wants, then she takes shots with Helen Mirren.

Botox is bad.

I'd rather not make any comments, since I know Michelle Pfeiffer reads this blog. But when she was speaking, I'm pretty sure she was trying to suck my soul through the TV. You know, to keep her young.

Sarah Michelle Gellar remains to be my nemesis.

Really, it was just a reason to post this photo of the woman who took my first boyfriend from me. And by "boyfriend" I mean Freddie Prinze, Jr. And no, it's not like that day they got married, I cried or anything. That would be absolutely ridiculous and semi-creepy. But she knows what she did and she knows what she is.

Pregnancy can occur via television waves.

Case in point. Though it's hard, I'm going to try to hold back here on the inappropriateness (that's what she said). There really should be some sort of warning prior to the show.

All in all, the Golden Globes weren't too shabby. For next year, I'd suggest more alcohol. And less "artsy" movies/shows winning. And, I think it'd be better if we let the actor's choose the song that they walk onto the stage to. Personally, being the astute professional I am, I'd choose the love ballad, "Move, Bitch" by classical performer Ludacris.

Either way, cheers to awards show season!

What I Learned From Teen Movies

In being a well-rounded journalist, it is of course important to be fluent in pop culture. Movies play a large role in this. So again, it's not like I spend hours on the weekends watching teen movies for enjoyment. No, no, I do it for scientific purposes. In studying how social interactions are perceived then reenacted on the big screen and then our reaction to said reenactments. I used the synonym editor so much in that last sentence I completely lost meaning.

Anyway, I'm a big supporter of ridiculously cheesy teen movies. Here's what I learned from some of my faves: (again, a list, someone get me medication)

1. If you're "ugly," taking off your glasses and meeting Freddie Prinze, Jr. will make you pretty.

I know you've all seen the highly-praised, five-time Oscar winner, "She's All That." So basically Rachel Leigh Cook is an "ugly" art geek who's totally over high school and blah blah blah. This movie taught me that glasses are like an ugly curtain -- when you wear them, you are a repulsive ogre, foaming at the mouth. BUT, when Sookie from True Blood comes along and does a "makeover," you INSTANTLY become beautiful. Then "Kiss Me" plays in the background and Freddie Prinze, Jr. falls in love with you. These were the first impressions of love I had. Solid foundation for future relationships. Essentially, never wear glasses.

2. If someone makes a bet on you, or is paid to date you, they will actually end up falling in love with you.

Now, this actually applies to "She's All That" too, but I'm referencing the worldwide phenomenon "10 Things I Hate About You." Joseph Gordon-Leavitt, and his fine ass, gets now irrelevant Andrew Keegan to pay Heath Ledger to take out "feminist" Julia Stiles so that JGL can date Alex Mack (but A.Keegan thinks its for his benefit). This movie first taught me that being a "feminist" means wearing flowy cargo pants, driving a "vintage" car, and using sentences that string along a bunch of words from Microsoft Word's synonym editor. So, check. Then, Heath starts to fall in love with Julia, but she of course finds out about said money and gets all feminist pissed, which apparently causes you to write a poem and then cry in front of your English class. So, in conclusion, this movie taught me two vital things: (1) Get a hot guy to bet money or get paid to take you out because he'll sing to you during soccer practice and in the end he'll buy you a guitar. (2) Cargo pants make you a feminist.

3. If you want people to change themselves for the better, just ensure the popular girl gets hit by a bus.

In the most critically acclaimed dramatic scene of "Mean Girls," Cocaine Lohan and Allie from The Notebook are arguing because Allie has gotten all fat and Cocaine is getting all popular. Then Allie gets hit by a bus and so begins the sequence of scenes where everyone begins bettering themselves. Aside from the aforementioned epiphany, Mean Girls, in all its infinite wisdom and quotable dialogue, taught me three very important things: (1) Buses change lives. (2) If you get hit by a bus, you will eventually meet Ryan Gosling and begin an endless romance. (3) Cocaine makes your boobs shrink (what happened Lindsay?).

4. White girls cheat.

In four-time Golden Globe winner "Bring It On," we learn that the Toro's, led by Kristen Snaggletooth Dunst, have been stealing their championship cheers from the Clovers, led by Gabrielle Union. There's of course this whole "Gee golly, I can't believe our cheers were stolen!" and then a sequence of them making up their own cheers and becoming better people and blah blah blah. Essentially what I took away from this was that white girls cheat. And it may have been the reason why I always covered by math tests from Amanda Smith in 8th grade. Which oddly enough made no sense, because again I'm horrible at math. So really, I was helping her. I need to rethink my decisions in life.

5. If you're from California, your parents occupation will be unknown, but you will be rich, and they will let you do whatever you want.

This realization actually applies to almost every teen movie I've ever seen. Where is everyone's parents? Anyway, I'm referencing the American classic "Easy A." First off, let me debunk another "ugly girl" misconception. Emma Stone would never have been unknown nor unpopular in high school. Come on producers, you did nothing to down play her looks; no oddly cut, frizzy hair, no jeans worn with running shoes, not even fellow ugly friends. No no, apparently, being "ugly" in a California high school means that you're thin, you wear designer heels, and your best friend is a pop singer with big boobs (whatever happened to Aly &AJ?). What do pretty people look like in these schools? I don't even want to know. I'm sure it's blinding. Anyway, the big point of the movie is that Emma Stone lets all these ugly guys tell their friends that she slept with them or they touched her boob or something PG-13 rated like that. Her parents are all cool when she tells them about it, like it's no big deal. Let me just say, had this ever happened to me in high school, I would have first been sent to a nunnery. Actually, that's it. Nunnery and done. Or Nun and Dun if you will. Anyway, the two big takeaways from "Easy A": (1) Living in California makes you rich (2) Dan from Gossip Girl will sweep you off your feet in the end and you'll ride into the sunset on a lawnmower.

I hope these five life lessons were as meaningful to you as they were to me. Let us not forget the biggest lesson from teen movies: Your life needs the right soundtrack for significant events to be deemed significant. Otherwise, how will you know?