Not that I ever really cared for pumpkin, but after watching tonight’s episode of “Hoarders” – which featured an elderly woman named Jill who couldn’t stand to part with the seeds of an entirely unsalvageable rotting pumpkin carcass that had made a home for itself on her living room floor – I’m not sure enough time will pass before Thanksgiving for me to enjoy a slice of pumpkin pie ever again.

Interestingly, Jill and I have completely opposite problems. Whereas she holds on to eggs for over a year and insists that it wouldn’t kill her to eat them (or serve them to her son), I throw them out the second the clock strikes “sell by date.” I also dump any remaining milk five days after I’ve opened the carton – although I know for a fact that this is what you’re supposed to do.

Sigh. What would it take for me to become a full-blow hoarder? Of course, who am I kidding – my boyfriend would never even let me hoard episodes of “Hoarders” on the DVR, let alone bags of coagulated cabbage in the hallway. (Hint from Heloise: Cabbage is very “forgiving” as it rots from the outside, according to Jill!)

I recently discovered Girls Aloud through their latest single “Untouchable,” which is played on Energy 98 all day long. It is the official SONG OF THE SUMMER, at least in my head and also in my boyfriend’s car, where I whine and complain until he caves into letting me plug in my iPhone and play the damn song. (I always choose the seven-minute extended version because I’m an asshole.) Anyway, I love this song, and I love Girls Aloud as much as one who has never actually handed over money for a Girls Aloud song can.

Knowing my interest in shitty music, B___ sends me a link this afternoon to a music video by some group called The Saturdays. I had heard a little about them and assumed they were some indie hipster group. But when I pull up their Wikipedia page, I discover the familiar formula of five attractive women, each with varying degrees of skin pigmentation and stylized hair. They look just like every other girl group – SO OF COURSE I BECOME OBSESSED WITH THEM.

Their video for “Work” is pretty much perfect and adheres closely to the standards and practices outlined in Girl Group Music Videos 101:

• Leather outfits
• Posing disguised as dancing
• Hair extensions
• Balls of fire
• Wind machine
• Sparks falling from the ceiling
• Overexposed closeups
• Fake dance floor with a runway
• Spotlights
• Stomping around on a wet floor
• No plot
• Sexy face

God, I’d give anything to be in a girl group. I’d even volunteer to be the ugly one who isn’t trusted to sing verses.

So, wow, the hottest crystal meth addict was on “Intervention” last night. In terms of crystal meth addicts, I thought it didn’t get any hotter than Jeremy Jackson, but Aaron the former mixed martial arts champion is really giving him a run for his money.

Here is a picture of my new boyfriend/project Aaron, sporting two hallmarks of a classic Jersey douche: gelled hair and a landing strip. In all seriousness, he really is quite handsome.

Oh, and did I mention he is an actor?

Yes, that’s right! Aaron has performed in over 1,200 adult videos under the name Dick Delaware. (Click here if you’d like me to save you the time of Google Imaging his NSFW photos.) Unfortunately, he has retired from the business, choosing instead to spend his twilight years injecting speed and masturbating for 10 consecutive hours a day.

I know what you’re thinking: THE PERFECT MAN! A great face, a bodybuilder physique, a literally insatiable sexual appetite. If only he weren’t straight. And addicted to methamphetamine.

Predictably, Aaron completed rehab but relapsed after three weeks. The show portrayed him as a damaged individual who allowed himself to get caught in the endless cycle of porn acting and drugs. I’m afraid this sudden exposure will serve only to open more doors for deadend opportunities in porn, but perhaps I’ll be proven wrong. At the very least he should drop that stupid Dick Delaware moniker.

Just when you thought the coquettish wink died at the altar of the gratingly folksy Sarah Palin, Britney Spears comes along and – less than 20 seconds into her new music video for “Womanizer” – makes things right again.

Ah, that wink. It’s fun, it’s flirtatious, it’s just a little bit “Fuck you.” Fuck you to the people who thought I’d coast through yet another music video with an untamed weave and a dead-behind-the-eyes glare! Fuck you to the people who thought I couldn’t pull my shit together long enough to conduct a coherent five-minute radio interview! And fuck you to the people who think this is a comeback! This isn’t a comeback – this is a second coming. Britney is here to save pop culture, and we should be grateful that she is deigning to do so.

That said, it takes more than a well-timed wink to resuscitate a career, but the Britney we see in “Womanizer” seems more than up to the task. No doubt, she is simply stunning – and, dare I say, healthy-looking, if the nude sauna scenes are any indication. There’s also a determination in her eyes that makes itself evident each time she looks directly into the camera. She’s communicating with us. She’s telling us she means it this time. She thinks – no, she knows – she’s ready now.

I will say that the choreography is pathetic, especially when measured against “Slave 4 U,” “Stronger,” or virtually any other video she produced while under the thumb of her handlers. In “Womanizer,” it’s apparent that Britney’s body is sexy but no longer athletic. She needs to fix this before her next video and, more crucially, before her supposed 2009 tour. There are plenty of beautiful women on the radio who can sing (or, in some instances, “sing”), but very few of them can dance. If Britney wants to be taken seriously, she needs to have some serious moves.

All in all, “Womanizer” – both the single and the video – is encouraging. Encouraging, but not yet convincing. The last few weeks have been a strangely seamless string of MTV awards, wholesome paparazzi shots, and refreshing self-realization – which, if she keeps it up for the next few months, just might teach me to stop worrying and to love Britney Spears.

Even though Dlisted hates it, I’m actually looking forward to the American version of “Kath & Kim!”

I wake up on Friday at 11 a.m. and, despite promising myself the night prior that I wouldn’t do this, immediately play “Fourth of July” by Aimee Mann.

Today’s the Fourth of July / Another June has gone by
And when they light up our town I just think/ What a waste of gunpowder and sky

I love this song. I can’t help but think this would be London Preppy’s anthem if he took his “muscles and melancholy” shtick to the States.

Anyway, some highs and lows of my weekend.

1. My boyfriend’s new diamond stud earrings. Classically unadorned for the nearly two years I’ve dated him, my boyfriend’s ears took on a new look Friday with the addition of two diamond studs purchased from dubious jewelery wholesaler ItsHot.com (“The Place where Celebrities Shop!”). Obviously, I was appalled. This was New Jersey culture co-opting at its most shameless, and wasn’t I saying just three weeks ago that I might consider diamond stud earrings of my own? But after eight glasses of sangria, I found my boyfriend’s inner-cum-outer guido to be rather endearing, even though he now bears an unnerving resemblance to my cousin.

2. The realization that I’ll have to start doing cardio. Oh god. How on earth has my body dysmorphia devolved into being convinced that I’m both skinny and fat?

3. Dumb bitch Allison on “Property Virgins.” Holy hell, this woman was awful. I’ve never seen a participant on this show use the word “ugly” to describe so many things. “This kitchen is ugly.” “A brown fireplace – ugly.” “What a great faucet – if you like things that are ugly.” Truly, Allison is the ugliest of all, and I’m glad she paid a baffling $100,000 over the asking price for a shit house with dangerously outdated wiring and no central air.

4. “I Love Money.” Go, Heather!

After watching a “Cheerleader U” marathon on WE last night, my boyfriend and I tuned in to LMN for the 1996 made-for-TV movie “A Secret Between Friends: A Moment of Truth Movie” – originally titled “When Friendship Kills.” (Spoiler: The secret is anorexia.)

Looking back, I can see now why they changed the name of the movie. The only reason Jen died is because Lexi shared Jen’s “secret” with her mother, who in turn shared the secret with Jen’s mother. One thing led to another, and, naturally, Jen was struck and killed by a car. Lesson: Anorexia may be dangerous, but it’s a friendship with someone who cares about your well-being that will kill you in the end!

Because “A Secret Between Friends” won’t air again on LMN until RIGHT NOW (12:42 p.m. EST, to be exact), I’ve outlined below some key Lifetime Lessons imparted to my boyfriend and I by this cinematic masterpiece.

1. When entering your room to borrow a tampon, your mother – who, it should be noted, drove away your father with her ceaseless nagging and self-righteous “working mom” sense of entitlement – will overreact to the fact that you haven’t ovulated in three months, demanding that you see a gynecologist. (Additionally and without elaboration, your mother will then mention that she needs to see a gynecologist herself.) To avoid the derailment of your clever weight loss plan by a licensed doctor, wear a weight belt under your hospital gown.

2. If you are an actress with an athletic if not perfectly normal body who wishes to appear anorexic, begin by conveying an initial air of bulk through the use of heavy sweaters and body padding. As the film and your dramatized eating disorder progress, shed the baggy clothes for strappy tank tops. The moment your friends, your volleyball coach, and complete strangers compliment you on your “newly” slender frame, slap on the gray concealer and thin out your hair for a gaunt, sunken, decidedly anorexic look!

3. If you want to kill your anorexic best friend and get away with it, be sure that her body is sufficiently starved of proper nutrients before arranging for her to be hit by a car. Her immediate death will be attributed not to the impact of the car but to the symptoms of her self-inflicted eating disorder.

4. After divorcing her mother and moving 2,000 miles away, reunite with your anorexic daughter by taking her out for dinner. Feel free to extend an invitation to your young, thin and genetically blessed new girlfriend, as well.

5. If you want your psychologically disturbed daughter to overcome her eating disorder, tell her to eat more.

She’s gonna cost ya.
Rusty has taken his obsession with “Boy Meets World” a step too far (Who could have thought this was even possible?) by proclaiming last night his unwavering respect for Topanga and her selfishly manipulative scheme to wait until marriage before allowing Cory to fuck her.
“I respect people who wait until marriage,” said Rusty, who – despite his physical appearance and a heretofore unknown belief system that would suggest otherwise – is not a virgin. He went on to say that sex is “sacred” and added an unsolicited remark about the Bible.
Something had to be done, even if it meant destroying someone’s faith in lies and delusions.
“Do you know what happens when you die?” said Cyber Agatha. “NOTHING.”
Nevertheless, Rusty insists that he’ll rise to the Heavens courtesy a newly acquired pair of wings and watch reruns of “Boy Meets World” with the angels and saints for all of eternity. It’s cute when people have dreams.