Now I love to hate/hate to love Massie Block as much as the next Clique chick, but can’t a popular girl actually be a nice person? Ever since Lindsay Lohan was taken in by “The Plastics” a.k.a. “Mean Girls” and Blair Waldorf planted her pointy-toed Chanel firmly up someone’s nether parts, have we come to equate a popular girl with…well, rhymes with itch.
Are all popular girls uber-mean? Do they all have thick luxurious long hair? Are they all rich? Do they all wear designer clothes? Are there any out there we can admire?
I have a dirty little secret. I have no middle name. My mom explains it to me thusly: “My mother, your grandmother, gave me the middle name ‘i.’ which is humiliating. i-what? i-robot? i-likey? No. just i, period. This is why, you, darling, have been saved from the humiliation of a horrible middle name. Consider it a blessing.”
Okay. Got it. But just in the past few months I’ve been coveting. Middle-name-envy, if you will.
1. “Bombshell.” Is this a crazy-great middle name or wha? It sort of sets the stage. Puts it out there. Gives you a goal to reach for. I don’t even think you need all the tattoos to support a name like that. “Bombshell” says all you need to know.
And 2. “The Situation.” I don’t watch the show so I don’t know to what “The Sitch” refers, but I like it! I mean, who doesn’t want to be, not just a, but the situation? It looks like it requires a lot of ab work to be The Situation, but with a middle name like that, it’s worth it. …Jennifer The Situation Solow. I’m liking it!
Are you like me? Sitting in the library in your JLo’s, not really thinking about much else other than your current manuscript, the fact that your car is parked in the 20 minute zone and you’ve been there for 6 1/2 hours, wondering if the library lady will catch you sneaking Zone Bars and dried apples out of your backpack simply so you don’t pass out from lack of caloric intake, not thinking ONE IOTA about the guy sitting behind you staring at your visible gluteal delineation, aka butt crack?
Well, then this product is for you. A modesty “sticker” apparently, for those who both defy gravity with their pants AND care if someone notices. Me? Well, I prefer the booty to the sticker.