Reblogging Julia

Marsha, Marsha, Marsha

• The Handmaiden of Passive Aggression is a failed reality television star.  Stunning, that.
• It appears Leven Rambin got all the acting talent in the family.  That has to sting a little, since she doesn’t know the rules about respecting her elders. 
• Next thing you know, Leven Rambin will be dating men her sister’s age, and getting more Gawker hits.  She probably doesn’t even need fillers.  Little shit.
• That must be why the Handmaiden would rather post pictures of her, uh, outfit? than make any mention of her much younger sister, Leven Rambin, who is more successful, gets more action in her sister’s pool, and won’t abide the taint of kryptonite brand association.
• It apparently goes both ways. Leven Rambin’s Wikipedia  entry mentions Dad, Mom and brother, but NO mention of her wildly successful, reality television star and style maven sister, Mary Rambin*  And sadly, Mary has no Wikipedia mention.  Nor any plug for her business on Leven’s official website.  Sad crumple face.
• WHEW.  I have used the name Leven Rambin in this post more than the Handmaiden ever has on her blog.  You hear me, Google?
• Sure, the Handmaiden’s reality show was cancelled after two episodes (out of only six filmed) and Julia bombed spectacularly as a contestant on a reality dating show, but the third time has to be the charm, right? Surely Leven isn’t moonlighting on primetime. 
• Well, I would tune in, if only to catch the Handmaiden’s sly little digs at JA.  Our Lady of Introspection does have questionable taste in many choices, including friends, hair extensions, and common sense generally.
• I am not hopeful, though.  Breakout reality television programs, and by extensions (or the transitive property, you decide), the participants, have become successful because they came out of nowhere and captured fresh attention.  Two of the three of them have been elbowing others for the spotlight for quite a while, with little success beyond their neighborhood, and their detractors are much more vocal than their fans.  Or so I have heard.  
• No worries, though.  Our Lady of Introspection missed the limelight and attention New York and is coming back.   Family is so overrated!

No hiatus for old bloggers.

• This is what Our Lady of Introspection has learned in her hiatus.  “This is the devloution of celebrity.  It just is.”  Such as.  Her opinion of people who are famous for being famous is presented without irony or an ounce of self-awareness.  Recall that this person often opines on the mental health of others.
• Wait, hiatus?  What hiatus? No hiatus!
• Wait, honorary degree from MIT? In what?  Professional gossiping?  Best performance in a Midwestern version of Sex in the City?   Lipdubbing?
• Incidentally, glad you finally fulfilled that lipdub fantasy (check comments for “I want to do a lip dub of you and me singing “A Whole New World” - very over the top … it will be hysterical.”)
• I guess it is safe to say that you don’t discrimitate among lipdub partners.  Good for you.

Resurrection.

• Problem: I’m done.  I can’t do this anymore.  It’s ruining my life.  I thought that people could see through the bullshit, but they can’t.  And it’s not their fault.  It’s mine.  If all of this comes at the expense of love my personal life, I don’t want it.  So … thank you for reading.  I don’t know when or if I’ll be back, but at the very least I need a little break.
• Solution:  A reality television program!  I hear that reality television is an up and coming genre, with so many unexplored angles. What’s more, no more scrutiny or intrusion on your personal life with that move!    It is clear that Our Lady of Introspection has used this Silent Reflection Time [Ed. Note:  kind of loud and braying for my tastes] to reevaluate her need for attention, and the conclusion is MORE. 

Conspiracy theory.

The interns tipsters have spoken, and no one seems to believe that the Handmaiden of Passive Aggression authored her “Thank You” note to JL.  There is a strong suspicion that it was ghostwritten by a certain irrepressible Pink Lady who is currently on an Oprah Magazine-advised limited hiatus.  The evidence, in tidy bulleted form:

• Mary spells like a 5th grader and admittedly can’t work spellcheck.  Horrifically attrocious, actually.  A tradgedy even.  It is highly unlikely that she could write that many words, including a few of the ten-cent variety, and not commit a half dozen spelling errors.
• Mary cannot string together a sentence, let alone an argument.  Case in point:  “You knew that your perspective didnt cross my mind when you posted that. You knew it was a shallow comment that was actually funny, and in no way mean spirited. As a blogger, although I can’t say that I have read your blog before, you know that comments get taken out of contest.”  Hell, I have parsed JA for weeks and I can’t even begin to understand what the fuck Mary is trying to say.
• Emphasis on branding yourself?  Well, that sounds vaguely familiar.
• Final exhibit:  “As for the proofreading aspect, I was out with friends, but I’m guessing you weren’t.”  Yes, Mary.  You were ostensibly out with friends, yet still picking fights on the internet during bathroom breaks.  Glass houses, string bean.  Glass houses.

I tend to agree with the interns.  That post was at a high-school grade level, and Mary is still playing dodgeball in middle school.  Methinks Our Lady of Introspection is ghostwriting for her friend who was held back, but dumbing it down a little in the interest of appearing somewhat believable.   Fucker should have bought her the MacAir.

Two weeks notice.

• That was how long it took between the “I’m done” post and a fresh picture of Our Lady of Introspection.  If her lips aren’t pursed, her mouth is wide open.  I wonder what that means.
• She cautions that although she is not restarting the blogging yet, she will, on rare occasions, post random things, and won’t be back in full force until mid or late April.  I tend to believe that she doesn’t know what that word “rare” means.
• But she has a plan!  An online version of The View! 
• When you think about it, that kind of makes sense.  A dating columnist who fails spectacularly in relationships, a stylist who thinks these are stylish, and a former finance/hedge fund analyst who hangs out with the two of them.  The question isn’t “who among them is the clueless Sherri Shepherd,” but rather ”who isn’t?”
• But hey, private jet to Pittsburgh and beyond.  Pick up your boarding passes at the Mayflower Hotel, girls.
• Megs? May I call you Megs?  I kind of like you.  I don’t think you are quite of this ilk.  Did you happen to notice that, of your Christmas gift to your frenemy, she said that although she hadn’t put it on in nearly four months, the outfit is cute, but the shoes really pull it together? Ouch. 
• And this from a girl who reignited a now deleted shitstorm between her triangled frenemy and the object of her MacAir lust?  Praying mantis, indeed.  Let the baugher beware.