Somebody's idea of a joke?

With G. away, I watched several episodes of The Agency on VH1. It is an absolutely horrible reality show about modeling agents and the models they hate, I mean, represent. All the agents are mean, critical, superificial people who berate these young girls to keep them "hot" in the business. And they are really young girls so they are kind of dumb (like teenagers tend to be--except me, I wasn't dumb ;). The models have such tall, lanky bodies that it is easy to forget they are teenagers. Since they act like teenagers, meaning they don't eat right or go to the gym like they should, the agents pester and insult them in hopes of bullying them into cooperating. One agent is a British woman whose insults are delivered in a crisp accent, which makes them sound a lot meaner (another example, Simon Cowell on American Idol).* The show is unpleasant to watch and I will not watch it again.

I think The Agency has one wee bit of value in that it shows that anorexic/bulimic models exist in large part because of the fashion/modeling business. So trying to address the connection between women's negative body images and the trend of super-super-skinny-bony models has to focus on the fashion/modeling industry itself. That sentiment isn't necessary groundbreaking--it does make the task so much harder.

So what is somebody's idea of a joke? An ad warning about the dangers of anorexia/bulimia aired several times throughout this show. So is The Agency supposed to be entertainment or a cautionary tale? It should not be both.


*Do certain phrases sound better with an American accent?

Uncle ??

I'm feeling a little lonely these past couple of days. G. is busy with a conference and besides that, we're not alone, there's a Houseguest (a rather pesky Houseguest, in fact; a Houseguest who likes to drink and stumble about and who we find peeing in our bathtub, but otherwise can be quite charming and endearing. But who can forget the peeing?)

Whenever G. is preoccupied with something, I entertain myself. I eat out alone, read almost an entire book in a matter of hours, watch TV shows G. would hate. But then all that gets boring and I miss G. There's no denying how much time we spend together. So, I start to feel lonely and sorry for myself, which is never good for a temperment like mine. Luckily, before it gets too deeply pitiful, G. comes back to me and all is well.

Something that is in the back of my mind these days (and all the extra Me-time brings it to the forefront) is the fact that I'm a jealous person. I'm not jealous of material items (example, I really do not want the expensive purses that are so popular these days). I'm more jealous about people who seem to have companionship or can rely on somebody to do the hard stuff for them(example of "hard stuff," making sure my car's oil is changed). It is silly because I have tried so hard to be independent enough that I can easily do the "hard stuff" and I don't expect G. to do it for me. I'm not intimidated to take on something--and that should make me feel really good. Yet sometimes it doesn't.

I had a friend who used to joke that she wanted a wife along with her husband. Someone to pick up the extra slack (do the wash and food shop) while she went to grad school and her husband worked full-time. In my case, maybe I need a really helpful uncle.

The extra Me-time has me making up family members. That's a little bit pathetic.