Snood, The Original Candy Crush

There are times when I am SO SAD Intervention is over. I will probably never meet Candy. Jeff will not tell me that he’s just met a bunch of people who love me crazy. I will never say, “My name is Liz. L-I-Z.”

Jeff VanVonderen agrees.

A man among men.

And worst of all, I will never meet an addict quite like me.

Oh yes, I am talking about Candy Crush.

I've always had a sweet tooth.

I’ve always had a sweet tooth.

I’ve been playing Candy Crush for about 6 months. I blame my sister who introduced me to this drug of a game. I play it on the subway. I play it on airplanes (but ONLY when we are approved to use our electronic gadgets). I play it in front of my brother while he is talking to me. Ughhhhh.

It’s been a while since I’ve suffered from the throes of addiction quite like this. But despite being sober almost 13 years, I’ve relapsed.

My former drug?

Snood.

That's a weak high score, Mamber

That’s a weak high score, mberAAmber. WEAK.

My best friend from high school Barbara introduced me to Snood during our first winter break in college. I visited her at her dorm and even though there was a party down the hall, I stayed at her desktop and played Snood.

When I returned to my own college, I immediately downloaded Snood. My senior year my addiction hit its heights. People would knock on my door. “Liz, want to go out?”

“Uh, no. I’m on a really intense level of Snood.”

No matter I graduated a virgin.

As if my own activity wasn’t enough, I decided I needed to spread my addiction to others. My friend Robert was on the soccer team and pre-med, but once I introduced him to Snood he was a goner. He’d come to my room, claiming he was stuck on a particular level of the Puzzle version. “I need your help,” he’d say, panicking. “My world is about to crash down.”

Terrifying.

Terrifying.

We’d go to his dorm room and I’d manage to guide him away from defeat. But the victory was short-lived.

I finally had to delete Snood from my computer because I realized I had a problem. But I just can’t make myself do it with Candy Crush. I’m now on level 218 and I don’t know if I should feel proud or ashamed. (Ashamed).

That said, I’ll never actually EAT a striped candy again, so you take your victories where you can.

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Thanks for the Memory! Cats turns 31 today.

In case anyone was wondering, eighth grade was awesome for me. I had a Caboodle where I could put all my CoverGirl makeup, a perm that had finally faded from my head, and beautiful dresses from Laura Ashley.

Laura Ashley

It’s okay to be jealous.

I also had very questionable piano skills, but that did not stop me from playing! My mom signed me up for lessons at the local Unitarian church even though we were CATHOLIC. Crazy, I know.

I admittedly never practiced but I insisted on playing the hits for my annual spring recital. And by hits I mean my favorite songs from my favorite musicals. Oh yes, home girl was a geek.

So in 1993 I told my piano teacher I was going to pound “Memory” from Cats on the keys. Oh, it was going to be wonderful. I even practiced a few times!

And then it was recital time. My name was announced and I walked regally to the front of the church where the piano glistened. To warm up I played a selection from John Thompson’s Modern Course for the Piano: the First Grade Book. Clearly I was very advanced.

Afterwards I started “Memory.” I bungled the keys so I started again. And again. And again. I began to cry. I managed to make it through the first few measures–completely off key–and finally finished the song. I ran off the stage sobbing. The audience clapped. I was traumatized for five or ten minutes and then there was an after party where there were snacks, so I was okay. No lasting damage. What a “Memory” indeed!

So imagine my delight when I googled “October 8” and saw that Cats opened on Broadway 31 years ago today. Thank God it finally ended in 2000.

 

Now I’m going to listen to the Les Miserables soundtrack. Way cooler.

 

 

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Scarlett Johansson and Jenna Jameson: Separated at Birth?

All right, I know that Miss Scarlett was recently named Esquire Magazine’s “Sexiest Woman Alive.”

Eh, I don't see it.

Eh, I don’t see it.

But I’m sorry, the actress, 28, while pretty ( I GUESS) is also channeling the looks of a certain performer on ANOTHER screen.

Yes, I am talking about Jenna Jameson.

Here is Scarlett showing off her engagement ring given to her by fiance, French journalist Romain Dauriac.

Looking a luttle busted

Sparkly!

And here is Miss Jenna, uh, doing her thing.

Big sister?

Classy!

Actually, now that I think about it, it looks like Scarlett is channeling the look of ex-husband Ryan Reynolds’ second wife Blake Lively. Hmmmmm.

God damn she looks so Connecticut.

God damn she looks so Connecticut.

You do the math.

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Were You a Caboodles or Sassaby Kind of Girl?

Growing up in the early 1990s, it was important to have STYLE. If you were lucky enough to live in northeastern Massachusetts near the New Hampshire border as I was, this meant frequent trips to Pip Jewelry & Novelty in tax-free Salem where you bought an assortment of gorgeous rope bracelets, colorful scrunchies, and Disappearing Ink.

You can even squirt it on your rope bracelets!

You can even squirt it on your rope bracelets!

Now, you needed a classy container where you could store your valuable jewels and charm necklaces and Wet N Wild makeup collection. You had two choices.

A) Caboodles

Beautiful color scheme AND spacious.

Beautiful color scheme AND spacious.

B) Sassaby

Is that real gold? PROBABLY.

Is that real gold? PROBABLY.

It was always a really tough choice. After all, you wanted to spend your hard earned babysitting money with what you put INSIDE, like buy 2, get 1 free earrings from Claire’s.

SO many choices!

SO many choices!

Most of the time it was dictated by whatever your mom found on sale at Bradlee’s.

In case you were wondering, I was a Caboodles kind of girl.

 

Though I never DID get their makeup.

 

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Tony Goldwyn Will Always Be an Evil Ghost to Me.

Confesh: I don’t watch Scandal with Kerry Washington which is a damn shame because everyone say it’s good.

Nice hair

Don’t give me that look, Kerry.

The thing is, my DVR card is full and plus I have a bias against one of Kerry costars, actor Tony Goldwyn, who portrays Prez of the United States Fitzgerald Grant. From the little I know about the show, he’s kind of a dick, straying frequently outside of his marriage for a little frisky business if you know what I mean.

Not cool, Mr. President. Not cool.

Not cool, Mr. President. Not cool.

PLUS I have never recovered from Tony’s performance as evil prick Carl Bruner in the heavenly movie Ghost. Carl, as you may remember, arranged a hit on my beloved Patrick Swayze so that he could continue to launder money from the bank where they worked. Everyone knows you do not. Kill. The Swayze.

Smug bastard.

Smug bastard.

Luckily, Carly got his comeuppance and went to Hell.

So there you have it. My heart belongs to Patrick Swayze. Maybe someday I’ll be strong again and be able to watch Scandal.

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Rich People Are Not Like Us

Do you ever wake up in the morning and go, Gee whiz! It SURE would be nice to go over to my supermodel neighbor’s villa adjoining mine and have a nice class of OJ and a plate of organic pancakes for breakfast?

Not THIS OJ, silly.

Not THIS OJ, silly.

And while I ponder between chocolate chip or blueberry hot cakes fresh off the griddle, my fantasy is shattered when the train that runs by my apartment building rushes past, causing my cup of cheap coffee to spill. I don’t even have paper towels to clean the mess up, because they weren’t on sale this week. Thank God for the toilet paper my parents brought me in bulk the last time they visited.

Now, the purpose of this story is not to make you give me money (though you can if you want), it’s to illustrate how different George Clooney, Cindy Crawford, and her husband Rande Gerber are from me.

Whatever, my friends are cooler.

Whatever, my friends are cooler.

For example, this month Cindy and Rande pose on the cover of Architectural Digest to talk about their Mexican vacation home–called a “villa” in rich people language. And guess what? It just HAPPENS to be next door to George’s villa! How convenient!

It gets worse.

The trio named the compound Casamigos – “House of Friends” – and the longtime close pals, who launched a tequila company of the same name, use the structures accordingly.

“Our lives go back and forth,” Crawford, 47, tells the magazine. “We’ll have cocktails at our place and dinner at George’s, and vice versa.”

This is the time I need to step it up in my quest to become George’s next girlfriend. I am totally fine with the two year contract that past lady friends including Stacy Keibler, Elisabetta Canalis, and Sarah Larson have signed. Heck, I’ll take six months. Even a week! I’m due for a vacation in Mexico.

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Juicy Joe Has a Green Card, So He’s an American Citizen. Duh.

Smart people drive me crazy. They do things like speak correctly, get good grades, and know how to act in public. Yeah, sounds REAL FUN.

NERD!

NERD!

Then we have people like Juicy Joe Giudice, husband to real Howive of New Jersey Teresa, who harbors no brain cells whatsoever. It’s quite the contrast.

Maybe they're hiding out in his stubble? No, probably not.

Maybe they’re hiding out in his stubble? No, probably not.

Joe and Teresa, as we know, face 50 years in prison for all sorts of fraudulent behavior, which they completely denied on Watch What Happens Live on Sunday night.

In a DVR Files first, I present to you some very exclusive video of Joe saying he’s a US citizen because he has a green card. Sounds right. Joe, who moved to America from Italy when he was one, is not even worried about getting deported. And yours truly makes an appearance! Get ready.

Part 2:

 

The world is a truly scary one when Teresa sounds like the voice of reason. Shudder!

 

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Oh Snap! Woody Allen’s Life is Turning Into a Lifetime Movie.

Woody Allen, the father of the century, heck, father of ETERNITY, may actually have no biological children!

He even played a sperm once!

And this is DESPITE playing a sperm!

There is nothing wrong with that, of course. Lots of people choose the adoption route and I commend them. However, it’s only funny in light of Woody’s, uh, sordid past.

Allow me to explain.

Back in 1992 Woody was just your average, neurotic Jewish filmmaker. He was in a 12-year relationship with actress Mia Farrow (whom he never married) and about to release the movie Husband and Wives, starring Farrow. Good stuff.

But the sh– hit the fan, big time, when Farrow discovered nude photos Allen, then 56, had taken of her daughter Soon-Yi Previn, then 20, whom she had adopted with ex-husband Andre Previn. While TECHNICALLY Soon-Yi was not Allen’s daughter, it was still kind of icky, you know? Banging your live-in partner’s daughter? Yeah, not my thing.

Such a beautiful couple

Such a beautiful couple.

Anyway, Allen and Farrow split up and Soon-Yi and Woody stayed together, finally marrying in 1997 and have since adopted two children together.

And this is when it gets REALLY scandalous.

See, Mia and Woody adopted two children together and Mia gave birth to their biological son Ronan in 1987. Ronan has since disavowed his pop, tweeting in 2012 “Happy father’s day–or as they call it in my family, happy brother-in-law’s day.”

Oh, BURN.

And now Mia is telling a NEW story. In an interview with Vanity Fair, she confesses that Ronan might not even be Woody’s son. Ol’ Blue Eyes himself and first husband, Frank Sinatra, could be Ronan’s father:

When asked point-blank if her biological son with Woody Allen, Ronan Farrow, may actually be the son of Frank Sinatra, Farrow answers, “Possibly.” No DNA tests have been done.

You be the judge!

You be the judge!

This is just too awesome. Well-played Mia, well-played.

 

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Ferris and Lloyd Dobler Were Almost Walter White

So, I don’t know if you heard, but this really great show Breaking Bad ended the other day. I’m pretty sad that it’s over so I’ve barely talked about it at all.

Truly incolable

Just like Dawson I’ve been inconsolable.

KIDDING! I’m totally happy it’s over.

Of course I jest yet again. But this morning I read an article about the actors that were considered for the role of meanie Walter White before Bryan Cranston was cast. And oh will you giggle!

Ferris F—ing Bueller and Lloyd Dobler!

He's all WTF too.

He’s all WTF too.

In my eyes he'd never do.

In my eyes he’d never do.

Ferris and Lloyd of course are characters in iconic ’80s movies, so I’m REALLY talking about actors Matthew Broderick and John Cusack. But yes, my mouth still dropped.

Turns out that Walter White was originally envisioned to be about 40-years-old, which explains how he scored hot Skyler. But after Broderick and Cusack passed on the role, creator Vince Gilligan fought hard for Cranston despite the other head honchos’ reservations about casting a dude who was Malcolm’s dad!

Too f--ing weird.

Everything he does he does for his family.

Gilligan was a fan of Cranston’s after catching him on an episode of The X-Files, which he wrote. The rest as we say is history.

Okay, back to crying.

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