I'm the Geek

My blog notes.

A photo was recently tagged of me on Facebook and I’m the “Geek.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. I really thought my friends were above this Facebook tom-foolery, but apparently I was quite mistaken.

If you’re addicted to Facebook, like most of us are, you probably immediately know what I’m referring to: the animated picture floating around which people decide to tag their friends as different cartoon personalities.

Let’s be honest here. I already know I’m friends with a slut, a lazy person, a comic and a drama queen. I know this because I’ve been hanging out with them most of my life. But now I need to be notified about it via bad Facebook cartoons? Nonsense, I say.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good faux-tagging. There’s nothing like uploading a photo of A.C. Slater, in a Bayside Tigers leotard circa 1984, doing squats and then tagging my boyfriend as him. But this cartoon/personality photo is driving me bananas. And not the cool-Gwen-Stefani-kind.

Every day I log onto Facebook, I’m tagged as something else. First I was tagged as the “geek”, which is a dig from my friends because I don’t have time to go out anymore. Ouch! You got me! Next, I was tagged as the “stylish one,” then the “bossy one” and so on and so fourth. And every time I get tagged, I get notified on Facebook. And every time I get notified on Facebook, I get emailed. And every time I get emailed, I get a buzzed on my Blackberry. And every time I check my Blackberry thinking maybe E! News got my resume and will accept me for their internship, it’s my phone telling me I’m the “grumpy one.”

When is this photo going to lose its steam? Every time I log onto Facebook, it is the only item that appears in my news feed, in my new photos section and my recently tagged friends section. It’s like the David Spade of night time television: as soon as he’s in a show that gets cancelled, you think you’re free and clear of him, until he claws his way back into another series. This is one scrappy photo.

I’m sure sitting around with friends and tagging them as different personalities might be fun for kids or maybe even teenagers, but at 24, I feel as though my friends should know better. I’m putting them in time out.

When do they have the time to do this? Why do they want to do this? Would it be more effective to all sit around in a circle and call each other innocent, stylish and sleepy? God, I hope that my friends haven’t lost there cool at our age.

Either way, I give this photo a couple more weeks until something else equally ridiculous comes around. I’ve, of course, de-tagged myself as the geek.

Like a what?

Like a circus, Britney and her comeback are full steam ahead, and I am now officially the happiest 24 year old I know.

I've always been a Britney fan, ever since she burst onto the scene my freshman year in High School. And while it seemed acceptable to like her then, it seems that as I've gotten a little older, it's completely unacceptable to be vocal about my obsession with her. Liking Britney at 24 is the equivalent to admitting you like the plot line of Gigli - just something you don't talk about.

So, let me get this out of the way. My name is Jenna, and I'm an overly obsessed Britney Spears fan. Phew, that felt good.

Now back to the comeback.

After talking up "Brit's MTV awards comeback" for weeks, only to be left confused and crying in fetal position after it was over, I was really nervous to see pictures, videos and hear the reviews of the last night's opening show. But, she's back.

Her costumes rocked. It was as if Dolce and Gabanna, Madonna, Liberachi and Prince all had coffee together and decided just how fierce they could make her look. Every piece was so detailed and ellaborate, and ofcourse, they showed off her killer new legs and abs. It's time this fan started doing more lunges.

Her setlist was a perfect mixture of old school Britney infused with her new album, and all of the songs off her Blackout album, which somehow disappeared during a meltdown we won't mention.

While Brit pays K-Fed a whopping $5000 a week to babysit his own children, it seems like chump change in comparison to what Brit's going to make off this tour. If you had any doubt that Brit couldn't make a comeback, then check out the pics and videos that have been posted.

Only two weeks and counting until I get an actual first look...

Hey, I'm leaving New York

Well, I did not see any celebrities in New York.

Apparently, my friends and I missed the "entire cast of Gossip Girl by seconds," one of the bartenders told us. And before I knew it, I was back on the Grey Hound bus.

The trip down to NY went by smoothly and quickly. Nobody was snoring, nobody was talking obnoxiously loud and there were absolutely no crying babies aboard. Yet somehow, the drive home felt like an all day event, and I strongly believe it was because of our bus driver Richard.

Call him Rich, that's what he told us his friends call him, over the loud speaker in the beginning of the ride. Everyone awkwardly laughed, but Rich continued to chime in. With every sight he found fascinating, he commented to his agitated passengers. With every car he felt was driving to slow, he felt the need to honk his horn while alerting us that we “were in good hands.” And don’t even get me started about our one rest stop.

This isn’t comedy hour at the Laugh Factory and this isn’t a double-decker tour bus. So why did Rich find the need to constantly be on the microphone? It took six hours to get home and I still have no explanation as to why this bus driver felt the need to put on a show.

Perhaps at a younger age, I might find this sort of thing entertaining but this bus ride was nothing of the sort. All I wanted was to sit in a comfy chair, pull up a good book and get some reading done in peace and quiet. Okay, I'm not 80, but still.

I don’t care what anyone says, I’ll risk my life to take the Fung Wah next time I head to NY, even if it did go zipping past us at 100mph.