You're Fired

Yesterday on Little People, Big World a slow dimwitted hair twirler tried to navigate her way through the weeds of life. It's a big bad world out there and when you've got nothing more than two pebbles in your noggin to rub together, that world can you eat alive. I don't know if it's the ammonium thioglycolate fumes or the public school system in North Carolina, but I'm genuinely frightened and angered by some of the things that leak out of Jordan's mouth. Few things in life anger me (ha!): a fly in my bathtub gin, glitter shortages, DVR conflictions, every other driver in the world, the assholes living on the backlot in Studio City, intolerance, cancer, the fact that prescription medications aren't available in vending machines, men, women, children. But what angers me most of all is stupidity. I'm not a genius, but I know my left from my write. See what I did there? That was a joke, grammar police. No need to alert the sirens. No need to send your armed guards knocking on my door. Calm the fuck down and let's recap, shall we?


The day started off with a puff of smoke and a gurgling digestive tract. Shelly and Kalia are awake, my friends. From what I can tell, it appears as if Shelly slept curled up next to a venom spewing demon person and Kalia slept with a blockage in her intestines. As I am so done with Kalia, let's focus on Shelly instead. Either a necromancer, a soothsayer or a weeble wobble spent the entire night whispering deliciously hateful thoughts into Shelly's subconscious and today she's going to share every single one of those thought with us. *glitter falls from the sky* An angry Shelly is a funny Shelly and a really angry Shelly is a hysterically awesome Shelly. She starts to see things that aren't there. She interprets innocent looks as elaborate plans. The coffee in her veins begins to boil, the smoke in her lungs turns noxious and we all get to reap the naughty benefits.




Innocent, silent, buffoon-y Lawon likes to sink himself into the hammock and soak up some sun. He throws one argyled calf over the side, loosens the giant tie around his neck and closes his eyes behind a pair shiny plastic heart-shaped sunglasses. He sleeps and dreams of corduroy. Visions of giant collars and shiny lapels dance harmlessly in his head. But to Shelly, oh wicked Shelly, Lawon isn't napping in the sun like a lazy golden retriever. Oh no. He's plotting. He's planning. He's spying. He's undercover and gathering intel. Shelly watches from the couch and whispers to others, "Lawon is watching us. He's watching the mirrors. He lies like that so he can spy. His eyes aren't really closed. They're open I tell you. Open!" Calm down Coyote Ugly. I realize you haven't eaten in about a week, but holy paranoia. Lawon is as innocent as a feather. He sways charmingly from side to side. He glides gently in the breeze, but he's something that'll eventually be swept away or stuffed into a pillow and slept on. As nice and as innocent of a person he is, he's not Big Brother material. I'd love to go shopping with him so we can buy giant buttons together, but Lawon is a casting mistake. If he goes home, we won't even know he's gone.



When Shelly is done telling everyone that Lawon is really a secret mastermind plotting their demise, she turns her guillotine tongue to Porsche. You see, Shelly is none too thrilled that Porsche treated herself to more than one piece of ice cream cake after Adam's birthday party. That high maintenance ne'er-do-well is getting fatter by the day and the last thing she needs is more ice cream cake. *bites fist* Shelly whips out the chart she's made documenting the speed at which Porsche's ass is growing and after calling her a flurry of names that include such gems as "Useless" and "Lazy", Devil Shelly shrugs her shoulders and says, "I probably shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry America. I'm sorry that Porsche is greedy little heifer that serves no purpose." Maybe I paraphrased that last part a little bit, but the sentiment is right on. Porsche is getting fatter which, to Shelly, means she's getting fatter with anti-Shelly game play. Those extra calories aren't just dimples on Porsche's ass. They're bumpy little plots of deception and hate. Shelly shuns cellulite like she shuns sunscreen. There's just no place for it in her world.

Shelly isn't all venom and vitriol though. She's also a human resources wizard who can interview the hell out of you if given a chance. When there's hiring to be done, Shelly to the rescue! Outside Jordan is mumbling something about trying to find a job and Shelly decides to help her out by giving her a mock job interview. Shelly may spit acid now and again, but when it comes to customer care and personnel conflict resolution, that ole piece of shoe leather is a pro. Shelly asks Jordan questions like, "What do you think you can bring my company that another applicant can't?", "What do you feel is your greatest weakness?", "Give me an example of how you've solved a problem in the workplace?", etc. Jordan sits wide-eyed and says, "These are adult questions!" Shelly replies, "You're an adult Jordan." Well, let's not get carried away there Slim Shady.



The play continues and Shelly asks, "Is the glass half full or half empty?" Jordan replies, "Huh? I don't get it." *smacks self in head with an iron ball covered in spikes* In all of her twenty some odd years, Jordan has never heard of the glass being half full or half empty. See? Shit like this scares me. It scares me that a person without knowledge of common idioms has a driver's license and is allowed to procreate. It scares me that she's allowed to walk around without a chaperone. I'm frightened she can vote. I'm horrified she can be around other people's children. I think if someone hired Jordan to babysit their kids she'd let them play with ammonia and bleach or some shit like that. There's a chip missing somewhere in her brain and I feel like any decision making she does should be done in front of a highly certified panel of specialists guiding her from point A to point B.


Shelly then asks Jordan, "What do you do when you get home from a job interview?" Jordan replies, "I'd probably walk the dog." Oh. My. God. Come on! Think Jordan, think! Does Shelly really want to know if you'd make yourself dinner, take a shower or walk the dog? No! Shelly is still in manager-mode. She's still teaching. *sigh* The correct answer is that you go home and write the interviewer a thank-you note. Jordan says, "Really? I never thought of that!" Of course you've never thought of that you windbag. Look, the economy sucks, employment is down and if Jordan Lloyd gets hired for a job over you, you should probably kill yourself. Her dream job is working in a dentist's office and, I don't know about you, but having Jordan working in the medical field makes my ass clench. There is no way in hell I'd let that airy idiot clean my teeth. She'd probably scrape my eyeballs by accident and stick a Waterpik up my nose. I'd walk out blind and leaking water. No thank you.


I realize this is more of a rant than a recap, but I didn't really get a chance to watch too much of the feeds yesterday. My apologies. And, you're going to hate this, but I have to go out of town tomorrow and I won't have access to the feeds until Sunday night. I know, I know. Believe me, I know! I'm going to miss all of the Thursday night aftermath and the shitstorm coming this weekend, but I'd like to do direct you to onlinebigbrother.com in the meantime. They'll keep you up to date on everything going on in the house. I'll be watching the CBS show and hopefully, fingers crossed, I'll get to catch some BBAD. Other than that, I'll be like one of those sad non-feed people until Sunday relying only on Twitter and my wits to get me through the weekend. I'll be back on Monday and things should remain regular (unlike Kalia's bowels) around here for the rest of August.


I will end this post with my wishes for the coming week: I want Lawon to be evicted and Cassi to come back into the house. I want Daniele to win HOH and for her to nominate Rachel and Jeff. I want Rachel to win POV, Jordan to go on the block and Jeff to go home. Yes, I loathe Rachel with the fire of a thousand suns, but I'm dreaming of a Porsche, Kalia, Daniele and Cassi alliance that'll spar with Rachel 24 hours a day, everyday. I want girl fights and hair pulling, synchronized periods and catty remarks about each other's weight. I'll gather up some hemlock and toad stool and dance naked under the moon tonight. I'll light candles, burn incense and chant in Ancient Enochian before I head out. If The Fates love me at all, they'll make this happen. Until then, be well, be safe, comment it out bitches and have a great day!