WEDNESDAYS ALWAYS BRING A PLETHORA OF EXCITEMENT. My day starts at noon when I wake up, and ends whenever I zone out, generally during the last 10 minutes of Creative Writing. Then I come home, sit down to some good eatins’ and “family time” with my lovely roommates (tonight’s feature entree was Manwiches)(Kacy, I can already see you squirming in your seat) then at approximately 7 p.m., we turn the television toward the kitchen table engage in the eye candy that is America’s Next Top Model.
Recently, my Wednesday evenings have been extended by last week’s premiere of CW’s Stylista. I love style, and though I am nowhere near qualified on any basis of fashion, I find this show absolutely ridiculous for about 85 reasons (I will only state three):
a. The cast members cause more drama in 8 seconds than I’ve had in the past 8 years of my life.
II. Anne Slowey, you are not Meryl Streep à la The Devil Wears Prada. Please stop, you’re embarassing yourself.
3. Within the first two episodes, contestants have prepared Slowey’s breakfast (“I don’t do almonds unless they’re soaked overnight,” “I only take iced lattes with a small straw”), gone to the emergency room, put up with Kate’s boobs and tears, the incessant bitchiness of Megan, and created pages for Elle — straight out of a high school yearbook. Nice work, team.
Ridiculous.
approximatelyes.com 
