Living with Cliff Huxtable

WE GOT A PUPPY!!!

The good news is that he's amazingly well-behaved and predictably adorable. The bad news is that Mark and I can't stop speaking like high-pitched freaks. We keep using that weird dog voice ("Oh, you want some WAH-ter, DON'T you? Yes you DO!") that used to be a constant source of overheard enjoyment for us. HA! Listen to THOSE people- don't they know they're speaking to a dog?! It shouldn't last long though; we're still in the first week. Give me a couple more days and then smack me.

Anyway, his name is Cliff Huxtable (Hux, for short) and as most others are, he's obsessed with Mark and Colleen. He watches Mark like a hawk, standing at attention every time he attempts to leave the room. There's a lot of wrestling, soccer and running and I'm pretty sure Hux'll be invited to Mark's bachelor party. As for Colleen, they tend to bond in a different way...laying on CoHo's queen size bed, with the air conditioner blasting and Gilmore Girls on a constant loop. Wait, sorry. Sometimes it's The Secret Life of an American Teenager. If I walk into the room, they coolly acknowledge my presence, but neither makes much of an attempt to socialize. It's cool...I had a feeling CoHo was going to be the cool aunt. Can't wait 'til my kids like her better too!

As for temperament, this dog is straight up Bekka Bryan. He enjoys short, sporadic bursts of energy and then crashes, staring at you like you're a freak for still being on your feet after five minutes of movement. When he senses that a meal is about to be served, he races to his bowl, literally inhaling his food before we've even put the bag away. He hates the heat and drags ass, glaring at us every step of the way and laying down in defeat when he thinks we've pushed him too far (which means that we've walked a foot). He's also pooped in Mark's bedroom twice. Just kidding, Bek! That one's all Hux! But yeah, they are two fabulous peas in an iPod (I don't know what that means-- I just wanted to substitute iPod for pod!) and I'm pretty sure they're going to be best buds. IF Bekka can handle lying around watching Gilmore Girls.

He's a great, great dog. And I can finally rest assured that if I'm ever trapped in an elevator with a pregnant woman about to give birth, everything will be okay. Cliff Huxtable will know what to do.

In other news, I'm going to go ahead and give Jersey Boys two enormous thumbs up! What a phenomenal play--- great acting, an intriguing story and exceptional music. Highly recommended. And in what I can only imagine was a celebration of the largely male cast (or the fact that the ladies room overflowed), Deanna and I were also allowed to use the men's room at intermission. Weirdly excited at the prospect of a shorter line and a new adventure, I awkwardly announced, "Oooh, yes! I have my camera- I am TOTALLY taking a picture!" As older people politely ignored my lack of bathroom etiquette, one guy quietly goes, "I get what you meant. You want a picture in front of the door, under the MEN sign." And he took our picture. Some people just get me, you know?

This was also after, in response to an elderly woman bossily directing us to the quite obvious bathroom line, D loudly retorted, "OH, Ya THINK?!" This prompted a steady stream of stifled twitters from all the ladies in line, and an accelerated pep in my step as I attempted to distance myself from the one person at the play who was going to take on an ancient female usher.

In short, I'm fairly certain we were a hit at intermission. And the play was excellent!

Other things that are new with me: I'm 90% moved into Mark's, but am still spending most nights at Fairfax on an air mattress. I got a little promotion at work and will now be devoting half my time to working in corporate sales. And the nail biting is only half-successful...I should have added "cuticles" to my thoughts when he was blowing bad images out of my head.

Oh, and I'm adding nuns to my list of things that make me uneasy. I saw one on the T a couple days ago and, for some reason, thought that she was going to smile at me and have fangs. Maybe I'm just scared of costumes. Sometimes a nun is just a nun, I guess.

Haaaaaappy Friday!!!

My Date With Robin Williams

Yello!


First off, I'd like to give a shout-out to my teeth! 6 1/2 years of zero dentist visits and I only have one tiny cavity. And it's only really the beginning of one! Smell ya in another 6 1/2 years, Dr. Cook! I'm sorry to all of the dentists who don't read my blog, but I'd rather eat with my feet then spend my life scraping someone's nasty-ass, chalky teeth (ack, just writing about that sound gave me the shivers)... blech!


Anywho, more importantly, my appointment with the Mad Russian was last Saturday! Obviously, this meant that Nail Binge Fest '09 was ON last week prior to the appointment, and I did not disappoint. My poor nails were like, "Help a brotha out! Let us breathe, gosh darn it!" (my nails don't ever swear), but I was like, "What if I never again know crazy, irrational satisfaction? What if I never again experience the high of ripping off a hangnail that mocks me? Deal with it biotches!" (I, unfortunately, do swear). Long story short, my nails were a-hurtin', come Saturday. And I was ready to beat this obsession... cutting a tomato without your hands stinging like a motha?! Is it possible?!


So as snoozeual, being that I was nervous, I was late, thus was even more nervous. Mark wasn't even running on Willis Time; we just hit a lot of traffic. So, naturally, I'm all flustered and jabber-jawed to this old, mini-Russian receptionist woman (God, they grow 'em small over there) but she's all calm like, "Welllllcome. He has just begun. Please follow me." I hate haunted houses, so I wasn't really feeling the grave welcome, but whatevs. Against my better judgement, I followed her in and sitting behind a big desk, surrounded by fifteen antsy people in chairs, sat the MR.

He said something in rapid-fire broken English and everyone in the class just smiled and looked at me, except for one chubby guy who laughed unnecessarily loudly. This irritated me until I realized that he was probably in a psychotic I'd-kill-anyone-in-this-room-for-a-cigarette-induced panic. I sat far away from him.

The Mad Russian was about 5'3" and wore a yellow shirt tightly tucked into brown pants which were belted well above his navel. This pant/shirt combo apparently hid what he described as a "healthy, solid body," proving this claim to an older woman forced to run her fingers over what, I'm guessing, were probably rock hard abs. I'm going to take her word for it. He was very animated during the hour and a half session, sitting down and gesticulating wildly, then springing to his feet to eye each of us and ask if we understood what he was saying. He did growl twice, which was alarming, but both were directed at a woman who showed up super late (I don't know, maybe that's the way they handle tardiness in Russia). His entire, only partially decipherable, rambling spiel was laced with manic "I will change your life" assertions, and the only time we spoke was when he asked if we were afflicted with physical pain, anxiety or depression and if so, if we were on medication. I told him about my faulty knees and he made me uncross my legs (I was wearing a skirt, but tried my best to avoid a Sharon Stone moment) so he could wiggle his fingers at me from across the room. It was a nice gesture, but my knees still hurt.

Important subjects that the MR touched on (from what I gathered, at least. The man was a spot-on Robin Williams impression):

*You should never take drugs to cure pain, physical or emotional. "If you sit on a nail, would you pull out the nail or take a Tylenol? Which makes the most sense?"

*All Americans are overweight. "You have a problem, you gain 300 pounds. Eating, eating, eating- it's all you do."

*No one uses common sense anymore. "It's like a stationary bike. You have it, but you never use it."

I'm not going to say I didn't agree, I guess I was just wondering how calling me fat and stupid was going to make me stop biting my nails. Embarrassing me, however, seemed to do the trick. Halfway through the session, he stopped and asked me if I was hungry, then imitated how I looked gnawing my hand off. He then pulled scissors out, though I'm not sure where he was going with that. What, he was going to stab me if I didn't stop? Cut my hair off? Actually, that last threat would definitely work... not a bad idea.

Long story short, at the end of the session, he made us all leave, then called us in again one by one. He was very sweet and complimentary when we were alone (such a midget trait- hidden kindness) and told me to relax and close my eyes...talk about a bad after school special, right? I was to say "I am biting my nails, I am biting my nails..." over and over again in my head, while he blew the bad thoughts out of my head. One quick "Pfff" later, and I was paying my $65 and meeting Mark around the corner for a margarita.

Did it work? Hard to say. I've absolutely caught myself a couple times this week, but the obsessive urge has definitely lessened and I'd consider that a success. I even cut tomatoes last night and found it delightful! As for the weird laughing guy in the beginning? No such luck :( I saw him in his car not an hour later, lighting up. I wanted to scream "Don't do this! Be strong!" but opted for obvious staring and disappointed head-shaking instead. From one addict to another, I feel his pain.

One last unrelated note: I passed one of those wretched human statues yesterday and she was sitting on a crate, holding a hand mirror and trying to fix her contact as the crowd stared. HA! You failed at your job, weird bronze fairy. Everybody knows real statues don't wear contacts!

Denim and Chocolates!

Four stuffed bags and a couple horrified stares from Mark and CoHo later, my closet is cleaned!

I tossed (with MUCH convincing):
My running shoes from senior year (ummm...in high school)
My running shoes from junior year (in college--- way more recent, thank you).
A t-shirt from Universal Studios that said Peace, Love, The Universal Way
A pair of adult Mary Jane type shoes with an ankle strap
A pair of wedge heels that Colleen gave me awhile ago (I don't feel good about that one, but she swore they'd never come back in style. I was like, are you even sure they're out of style?!)
A black and grey striped stretch polo from Kohls, circa 2000
A red bag with a band aid patching up a hole in one of the pockets

I kept:
A Big Dog t-shirt that says It's Not Easy Being a Princess
A boys flannel shirt that I bought at a Salvation Army in Bloomsburg
A XXX t-shirt that goes past my knees and elbows
A maroon halter, circa 2002, with a rip in it that you can hardly see!
A purple t-shirt that I tie-dyed in second grade (they'll have to peel that one off my dead body)

Aaaand, the piece de resistance.... my stretchy denim dress bought in 1997 specifically for Senior Week in high school! I fell in love with it all over again and completed the cleaning process marching around proudly in what I will probably wear to my wedding rehearsal dinner.

And what, you ask, were Mark and CoHo doing this entire time? In between yaying and naying, Colleen was daring Mark to eat old chocolates (from a year and a half ago!) that I'd found shoved in the back of my closet. Just another Sunday night at Fairfax....

Who Cleans Out A Closet

better than Hoops? We should have live-blogged this as it was incredibly entertaining.

Appetite Curbing, Fat Burning Lip Balm: Lip Smackingly Cool or Only for Fools??

YOU DECIDE.

Burner Balm Gets International Attention

Orders Coming in Worldwide for Fat Burner, Energy Booster, Appetite Control Lip Balm

LOS ANGELES, July 22 /PRNewswire/ -- Pacific Shore Holdings, Inc. (PSH), a Los Angeles-based manufacturing and distribution corporation is proud to announce the continued success and fast-paced growth in its Burner Balm lip balm product division. Burner Balm, a natural lip balm that claims to boost energy, suppress hunger and burn fat, recently came into the dietary, energy drink and lip balm arena. The product line is turning heads worldwide with orders coming in from as far away as the Czech Republic, Ireland and Great Britain.

Recently reported by ABC 7 News in Los Angeles, many of the competitors in the lip gloss arena have come under fire about the effects of their newly developed weight loss lip gloss products because of lack of ingestion of the dietary ingredients. The physicians that were involved in the development of Burner Balm fire back with facts about the statements being made. "Due to the number of blood vessels on the lips, product extracts are more easily absorbed than one might think," explains co-developer Dr. David Toomey. Blood vessel absorption coupled with our tasty formula leads to ingestion which gives Burner Balm a double impact and an edge over other products that are currently out there."

"Burner Balm is producing results," explains (PSH) Vice President Joey Valvo. "We are receiving calls and emails from satisfied customers worldwide, our products are different than the lip glosses, they are very gratifying to the taste buds and have a really flavorful aroma, which means ingestion of the product as well as absorption into the bloodstream."

Dr. Allan Kurtz, lead developer and co-founder of Burner Balm tells a convincing story of how Burner Balm works. "When Burner Balm is used as directed (placed on your lips four to six times daily), the product will energize you while simultaneously curbing your appetite. The science behind the product is simple, Green Tea, Hoodia, Chromium Picolinate & Caffeine have all been proven for many years to be effective as dietary supplements. When these ingredients are blended together as extracts into our flavored lip balm they become not only absorbed into the blood stream through the lips' blood vessels but also become ingestible. Meaning, when you place any of our deliciously flavored Burner Balm lip balm products on your lips, the flavor and aroma is a natural attraction for you to lick and taste, thus ingestion of the extracts occurs with taste while simultaneously absorbing through the lips' blood vessels, which leads to boosted energy and appetite suppression. Exercising while using Burner Balm can also lead to fat reduction, as Chromium Picolinate has also been proven to help your body burn fat and carbohydrates."

"Fuze, Guilt Free, and Huge Lips Skinny Hips lip glosses might just work after all," says Vice President Joey Valvo. "According to our research, which is extensive, the average woman consumes anywhere from four to seven pounds of lip products in a lifetime, which refutes any statement made about ingestion. We applaud the makers of these lip gloss products; an affordable way to curb your appetite while looking your best." These lip gloss products don't compete in the same arena as the Burner Balm lip balm product line up. Lip gloss is for women, lip balm is for everyone and at $5.99 for each lip balm, it's no wonder Burner Balm is causing such a stir worldwide. You can find Burner Balm Lip balm at www.burnerbalm.com.

Carlos.

I have got to write about what just happened. And it is not exaggerated one bit.

I'm on my way back from the gym and I notice that I have four missed calls from a restricted number. I'm like, What the frack?! Huntington Theater get off my back! (Love the theater, but those biotches have been stalking me to renew my play package...and I just rhymed). Anyway, I get back to my office and they call again, but the owner of my company is two feet away, so I ignore it. Finally they call back again and I answer. This is the conversation. Verbatim.

Me: Hello?
Mexican Lady: WHO is this?
Me: This is Sarah.
Mexican Lady: How do you know Carlos?
Me: I'm sorry? (without a British accent, though that phrase sounds better with one)
Mexican Lady: This is his WIFE and I found your number in Carlos' pocket when I was doing the laundry and I want to know where you met him!
Me: Wait, what? Nooooo idea what you're talking about. I don't know any Carlos.
Mexican Lady: (Confirms my number). That's YOU! I just want to know why Carlos has your number in his POCKET!
Me: Ma'am, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know a Carlos and have NO idea how he got my number. I'm sorry I can't be of more help, but I am at work, so I'm going to need to go.
Mexican Lady: Well I'm going to talk with him about this when he gets home...
Me: I hope that you do. Good luck with everything.
Mexican Lady: ...and we're going to text you later about it.
Me: Um, what? Whatever. Good luck.

Hung up.

WTF?! I am so weirded out right now. First of all, who the F is Carlos? And more importantly, why does he have my number??? I can't remember the last time I gave my number to a guy... maybe a month ago? (Kidding Mark). Seriously, I have no idea what is going on. Am I intrigued about being brought into a domestic scandal? Absolutely. Do I want anything more to do with this? Hell to the no. Will I update everyone if they text me later? Obviously.

Oh, I am just the saddest ever. I honestly cannot believe that Michael Jackson is dead... I really just can't stop thinking about it. Mark and I were up until 1:30 in the morning watching old MJ videos on MTV Jams and I'm listening to him nonstop right now on Kiss 108- he was just so good.

Michael Jackson was an enormous part of my childhood. The videos we have of Bekka and I dancing to Beat It and Billy Jean (it was never Becky Jean- sorry Bek), the pictures we have of us baking cookies in oversized shirts with his face on it, the MJ microphones we used to sing into, the bust of his head (yeah, you read that right) that Vo made me, crying over Thriller (so scary!), choosing him to write a biography on in English class and getting laughed at.... like probably everyone in the world right now, I have a million memories involving someone I'm never even met.

MJ STORY: My family and I visited California for a wedding when I was 15 and Bekka was 12. I had just bought the HIStory album and to say that I was obsessed is putting it mildly. I barely spoke to anyone as we drove up the PCH. Headphones firmly lodged in my ears, I was completely devoted to my Discman... to Michael. Anyway, at one point during the drive, Bekka timidly piped up that she would love to hear a couple MJ songs and maybe could she borrow my Discman? WHAT?! I, naturally, was horrified that she would even attempt to separate me from my beloved and responded in the most logical fashion possible. I made her list 3 (maybe 4- I could have been feeling generous) songs that she wanted to hear and told her that she wasn't to listen to any songs she hadn't listed. I then asked her to bark out the window like a dog. She did...and I think she'll tell you it was worth it.

Michael Jackson was an easy target and whether or not you believed any of the several rumors that continuously swirled around him, the impact that he's had on music is in immeasurable. He created the blueprint to pop music and I can't think of one current musician who can claim to not have been impacted by his visionary instincts. Michael Jackson had a lot to work against, but he loved what he did and, more importantly, was perfection as a performer; I respect every choice that he made (well...maybe not the baby dangling- that can get dangerous).

I just love, love, love him and only regret that I will never get to see him in concert.

Just for fun, here are my five MJ faves: Keep it in the Closet, Remember the Time, Human Nature, I Just Can't Stop Loving You, Scream.

Please bark for Michael Jackson.

Love, Sarah

CDs for Life!!

If you could only listen to five cds (not burned mix cds) for the rest of your life, what would they be?

Here are mine:

1) Amos Lee: Amos Lee
2) Gavin DeGraw: Chariot
3) *N Sync: *N Sync (or No Strings Attached! Can't decide!)
4) Garden State Soundtrack (Sorry Mark!)
5) John Mayer: Either Continuum or Room for Squares. Can't decide on that either!

Now, you might be like, "Whaaat? Becca, some of these aren't artists you are obsessed with!" This is true, but they ARE cds I could listen to over and over and over again. *N sync and Garden State are pretty self explanatory. We all know how much I feel about them!

But while most of Chariot did not get radio play, it is an AWESOME cd. (I must give a shout out to Sarah for introducing me to it!) Favorites: "More Than Anyone," "Belief," "Chariot" and "Nice to Meet You Anyway."

Same with Amos Lee. Just put that cd on and let it play! Favorites: "Colors," "Arms of Woman" and "Keep it Loose, Keep it Tight."

As for John Mayer, oh man, I just love that guy. I know some of his lyrics can be a little cutesy and whatnot, but boyfriend can compose a good tune! That's why it's so hard to choose between Continuum and Room for Squares...some of my favorite songs are on each! Favorites: "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room," "The Heart of Life," "Dreaming with a Broken Heart" (on Continuum) "Neon" and "My Stupid Mouth" (on Room for Squares).

But

really. What would YOU choose?

What's the Rush(ian?)

Well, I've just made an appointment with a Russian hypnotist. I have had it with my nail biting. I just tried to eat a banana and my hands stung. And then I tried to wash my hands after the banana and they stung even more. And I'm like, wassup?! Can't a girl eat fruit and touch water anymore? I can't control myself and I have Michael Jacksonized myself (band-aids) for too long... it's getting ridiculous and embarrassing. But I'm not blushin', bring on the Russian! These E.T. fingers need a little decoration.

Apparently he's some small man who Russian-ly rambles on and on for two hours, growling at you if you fall asleep and barking compliments at you if he likes you. It's a group sesh, so I'm actually looking forward to weeding out the sex addicts and judging the people with paralyzing fears. I've heard it's mostly smokers, though...booooring. Then, I guess, I get a one-on-one where he breathes on me and "heals" my addiction. I'm all set with people unleashing midget, foreign air directly into my face, so hopefully he'll stock up on breath mints.

Either way, I am sick of getting distracted by an appetizing hangnail while I'm trying to look at my beautiful ring. I'm sick of showing the ring off with a fist to hide my mangled nails. I'm sick of looking like an animal while I gnaw at my hands. August 1st. It's going to happen.

Oh MAN, how could I have not talked about this yet?!

KEVIN YOUKILIS WAS ON NEWBURY STREET, OUTSIDE MY BUILDING, ON MONDAY!!!

A coworker was getting out of her car when she saw him, so she called out, "Heyyy Youk! Nice game yesterday," whilst making a bizarre bowling/tree cutting motion with her arm, pointer finger outstretched. I was far too flustered to make fun of her when she told me, but believe me, I made up for it later.

Anyway, he had a little boy with him (most likely Enza's) and he was apparently hugging him and throwing him up and down and making me love him more than I already do (I know, I didn't think it was possible either). My coworker said it was adorable and he was really nice.

(Sidenote: another coworker actually tried to top this amazingness by saying that her friend saw David Spade coming out of a burrito place last Saturday. Ooooh, score. An all-star, gorgeous slugger or a miniature, unemployed woman? Nice comparison!)

I, meanwhile, was wild-eyed and sweating profusely, contemplating which was more important: a celebrity sighting or my job. You have no idea how difficult this was. I couldn't leave my office because I was in the middle of a program that bills hundreds of thousands of people for their gym memberships...but Kevin Youkilis was standing outside my building. But I didn't want to mess up the system and get in trouble...but Kevin Youkilis was standing outside my building. AND I was wearing a dress that day! Hellooooo, meant to be moment!

But I didn't go outside. And I still have my job. And I did leave work that night and sashay my fat ass up and down Newbury St...but he was already gone :(

Yahoozey!

A bird pooped on my shoulder as I was walking to the T this morning!!! This means that I'm going to have good luck! The last time it happened to me was on July 15th, 2005. It's like the bird-pooping Olympics. And I'll take it, because on the night of the previous pooping, I was whisked away to a surprise concert and the next night, CoHo and Mark threw a huge surprise birthday party for me. See? Good luck! (And I have the best friends!)
Last time, though, it got all in my hair and I had to run into the Somerville Theater and beg to use their bathroom without buying a ticket. They resisted for as long as they could, but eventually they couldn't ignore the white crap running down my face. This morning, though, not only did the bird totally miss my hair, but I also had Kleenex in my bag. No, I'm not elderly (though I do have Tums and my glasses in there too)...I'm just so happy to be sick :)
OMG, time out. I just remembered another time I was crapped on... Spring Break, Panama City, 2000 (there goes my Olympics theory), on the beach, seagull perpetrator. Trying to remember any luck after that... one of my college friends didn't follow through on her threat to push her boyfriend off our hotel balcony...? I guess that's it. Though it's really more good fortune for Ryan than me. They're married with a baby now. Wonder how that's working out.

Will keep you posted on my poop luck!!!

Things that aren't right.

Hey! Blech, I've been sick all week and it blows. Earlier, my throat felt like it had a piece of sandpaper lodged in it, and I still have balloon head (where everything seems really far away-I think it's a real term. No I don't, I just made it up). People have been talking to me at work and I just stare back at them. My response mechanism really needs to improve before I alienate my coworkers all over again. They've just forgiven me for the office-egg-smell incident (I think).

1. Okay, so I'm waiting for the green line train yesterday and all of a sudden, what comes floating towards me but one of those awful, awful, awful statue people who are real, but pretend like they're not. You know them... they stand in a square and you stare at them and then they move and you're like, WTF? I thought you were a statue! Followed by my thought: I hate you and I'm terrified. For the record, I don't enjoy (at all) regular sized people in costume. Like, the Easter Bunny, or scary adult costumes at Halloween (never again, SCOTIA), or mascots (we'll talk later, Mark), or mannequins. They're just not my jam. I'm not even going to start on clowns.
So anyway, this woman is all white (face, arms, all of it) and is wearing a corset and a long skirt. So I'm like, peace out, sucka, I'm getting on the other train. And I did...happily noticing that she was on the platform as we pulled out (she had a bunch of crap with her and couldn't fit). Please note, by the way, that the fact that she was chatting on a cell phone did nothing to lessen my fear. To me, she was an unnatural human exhibit. I want no part of that.
So I get off at Park Street and wait for the red line, reading my book. The train arrives and I board, holding onto a pole, and only looking up when I feel someone standing right in front of me. It is the ghostly statue woman and I swear to God, my heart stopped. How did this happen?! I got noticeably freaked out and before I could stop myself went, "Oh no, no, no, no, no," and started pushing through people on the train to get the F away from her. I finally found a spot behind an obese fellow (get through that, statue freak!) and chilled out, but I'm not going to lie, I swear she was giving me the stink-eye for the rest of the trip. She got off at Harvard, so watch out, Mark. And don't count on me coming to visit anytime soon.

2. A woman just called to change her credit card on file and as I was helping her, I heard a familiar voice in the background. Seems that my phone friend was watching a fabulous little show called Snapped. For those who don't know, it's a show about women who were pushed too far (or are just naturally crazy psychos)... and commit murder. And I am OBSESSED. So obsessed, in fact, that I was able to identify the exact case she was watching (a Russian woman, addicted to wealth and fortune, killed her husband!)
So obviously, I was going to share my observation with her, but A) I realized that it makes me sound pathetic and B) I didn't know if she'd appreciate me pointing out that she was home at 3:00 on a Thursday, watching Oxygen. Plus, her membership picture looked mean and I don't need anyone snapping on me, thanks.

Moral of my story: Watch Snapped, but know that it's never okay to murder anyone. Unless it's a human statue and it's self-defense.

Guest Post: The Food Corner

Hi y'all! Ladies, stop everything you're doing, hang up on the caterers and tell the members that their cancellation refund checks are in the mail. And Becca, stop doing whatever you do all day. Have ya tried these yet?

Olive oil? Garlic? FETA?? Every seemingly-sinful bite practically screams "Bryan" - and at only 80 calories per serving, you'd be screaming right back (if your mouth wasn't full of tangy Mediterranean flavor).

I didn't want to wait until we were all at the salon to dish about these. They're just THAT GOOD!!!

Oh, Becca - I just thought of what I should have said at the beginning for you. "Suspend" what you're doing! Get it? I still don't know what you do though.

Bye y'all!

I'm In L.A. Trick!

Hi, I'm back to chat about my fancy L.A. weekend! Oh, and the title of this blog refers to a song that Jessica introduced me to... listening to it on the radio, whilst in L.A. was so fetch (sorry, we watched Mean Girls in L.A!)

So, I guess my L.A. extravaganza started at the airport when I received three rapid-fire, stalkerish messages from Mark, asking if I was by a Cosi and holding a UBurger bag. That crazy guy had shown up to surprise me before I left, though he couldn't get through security, resulting in a semi-dramatic movie airport scene in which we stood, double doors (opened by a security guard) between us. It was like Field of Dreams...though I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have aged if I'd stepped through the door; it just would've been a biotch to get back through security. Anyway, after a few awkward I love you's (some security guards are so nosy!) Mark left (and saw Ben Affleck on the T- WHAT??) and I flew to L.A. trick! I don't actually know what that means.

My flight was uneventful...had a BM (sup Bekka?), watched He's Just Not That Into You (if you can read the title, skip the movie!) and slept. The only notable instance was when the window-seat man to my left excused himself to go to the bathroom. As I stood in the aisle waiting for him to climb out, I awkwardly announced that I had to go too and hoped he "didn't mind if I followed him to the bathroom!" He smiled nervously and didn't talk to me for the rest of the flight. I guess some people don't like being assigned Bathroom Buddies anymore.

Jessica picked me up at the airport and, after an appropriate amount of screaming and hugging and I can't believe you're/I'm in L.A.'s, we headed to Santa Monica! We first walked on the Santa Monica pier with the rest of the hoodlums, opting for chatter and wacky pictures rather than flirting and drug deals (just this once), and then settled in at Yankees, a giant sports bar, for a drink. I suavely attempted to pay for a five dollar beer with one dollar (I've never been good at math) and we hung out for awhile, grabbing sushi from an all-night healthy convenient store on the way home!!! I love L.A.

I'm sorry but Saturday, guys, was SO much fun. First we went to this huge designers market held in the penthouse of a huge building in downtown L.A. It was awesome; people were selling clothes, earrings, kid stuff, bags, accessories...a bunch of funky stuff. AND they had a DJ, food and free wine and PBR. You really can't top shopping with a buzz- am I wrong?! Jessica and I got earrings, shirts (hers is western and mine has a lady with an afro on it!) and some other stuff and then headed to Hollywood Blvd. for some more shopping at that "amazing store, only found in L.A."

Okay, backstory: Last year, when Mark and I visited Jessica, we found this awesome store where I proceeded to buy almost everything. Ever since then, we've been all, Man, if only they had that store on the east coast and What a unique find! Ummm, turns out the store's name is XXI...followed by Forever. Jessica and I finally put together that the store we've been lusting after is a friggin' Forever 21. Which can be found at every mall in the United States. What did I say about my math skillz? I always struggled with roman numerals. Whatevs, I bought three dresses, a skirt and a shirt :)

We then had a light lunch of chopped salad and sweet potato fries (they put sea salt and cracked peppercorns on the fries! Incredible!) at the Roosevelt Hotel and then, naturally, headed to the Beverly Hills Hotel for a drink. After tossing the car keys to a valet, we proceeded to sip Bellinis on the veranda overlooking the hotel pool and cabanas. Basically, just another Saturday afternoon! So, so much fun. They even gave us marinated mozzarella cheese and spicy peanuts for free (well, as an accompaniment to our $20 drinks, I suppose). Then, just because it seemed like the right thing to do, we held an impromptu photo shoot in the hotel bathroom (which was bigger than my apartment, by the way) featuring us spinning, sitting on fancy chairs, and posing by the marble sinks. It was crazy, but classy, and was only interrupted by some old bag who clearly did not approve of our whimsical antics. Guess what? We didn't approve of hers either.

That night, after regrouping, we hit up the Geisha House for some of the BEST sushi either one of us has ever head. Ummm, surf and turf sushi anyone? No biggie, it only has lobster and Filet Mignon in it! Albacore tuna with jalapeno peppers sound good?! We were flipping out. We toasted (I had the Geisha's Dream cocktail and Jessica had champagne) and basically talked about how fancy we were... because talking about how fancy you are doesn't subtract from the fanciness. Everybody know that. We then bailed on the rest of Hollywood Blvd (skanks galore!) and hit up Chateau Marmont (sup Lohan?) and then The Saddle Ranch (sup Miranda and Girls Next Door?), where the trashiest girl I've ever seen proceeded to simulate sex atop the mechanical bull. I'm talking nasty skank ho, here. We're pretty sure she worked there and was supposed to get people interested in riding the bull, but all we were interested in was some sanitizer. I'm confident that the rest of the bar felt the same way too... she was only humored with a couple weak Yeahs and Woo-hoos before she slutted her way outside. Oh, L.A.!

The next day, we hit up a Farmer's Market which was absolutely fabulous!!! The artichokes were the size of my head, there were leafy greens for miles, the fruit was perfectly ripe and juicy... amazing. I kept trying to rationalize carting a giant bag of fruit and veggies across the country, but I just couldn't make it happen. Something else that I will never make happen again? Wheat grass shots. SICK. Jessica and I were not impressed. If I want that kind of flavor again, I'll go pick some grass in my backyard and throw it in the blender with a stick and water. To make myself feel better, I tried my first crepe (awesome!) and Jessica and I split a raw, veggie taco in a cabbage leaf (double awesome!)

We then hit up Venice Beach, laid in the sand and watched the freaks (ahem, performers), followed by a long drive along the water through... to... (ahh, Jessica help me out) where we took pictures of the beautiful view, chatted, drank coffee....basically the best time ever :) THEN, I had to pack to go home...not the best time ever.

After one last dinner (I had the best turkey burger...everyone go to Barneys in Santa Monica!), our weekend was over :( Jessica drove me to the airport, where I caught the red-eye to Boston (with one half-asleep layover in Indianapolis) and walked directly into work at 9:45. So, SO worth it. It's what celebrities do.

Moral of the Story: Jessica, I had the BEST time. Thank you for being the Hostess with the Mostess and I'm sorry I was cold the whole weekend. I also never, ever want to see the Joker or Sponge Bob again. EVER. Also... I LOVE L.A!!!!!!!!!!

Let's Hear From A Jet-Setter!

So, so much has been going on and I just really want to talk about it! I have two stories to share first, though:

1. This is actually more of a fact than a story, but I look B-U-S-T-E-D today. I mean, it's pouring here in Beantown, but that's no excuse. I have on rain boots that make my clown feet look even bigger, green army pants, a shapeless gray sweater and no make-up and am sporting a serious college softball-player ponytail (this is not a good thing, for those of you who are confused). Anyway, I just wanted to let all of you who see me tonight (Mark) know that I know that I'm fugs.

2. Man, did my love of HBEs (hard-boiled eggs) bite me in the rump yesterday! Every day at work I have the same salad-- lettuce, a tomato, half a cup of black beans and one HBE, all drizzled with olive oil and Tassinari spice (what up, Vo?!) So yesterday, I decided to wash out dirty Tupperware that had housed my Sarah Salad the previous week. Lifted the lid and son of a b!#&h if I didn't unleash the most foul-smelling, horrendous odor in the universe. A coworker came out of the bathroom and stopped dead in her tracks, horrified at what she'd walked into. It smelled as if someone had cut the roof off a public restroom, filled it with rotten eggs and vegetables, and left it to bake in the hot sun. My office isn't that big and all I could hear was frantic cries of Oh my GOD! and What IS that? It was mortifying. The Russian accountant opened a window and our IT girl offered a 3 oz. bottle of body spray, but it was like trying to put out a fire with a shot glass of water. I had to run (literally, I sprinted) to CVS to buy an extra strength bottle of Febreze. Both the owner and CFO left early and I can't be sure I didn't smoke 'em out.

Moral of my story: The salad is amazing, but wash the Tupperware out that night if you want to be invited to any work functions.

Okay, so I have officially been promoted to celebrity status (right, like I wasn't there before!) Two weekends ago, I was in New York City for the Tribeca Film Festival and last weekend I was in Los Angeles!!! Seriously, so amazing.

Mark bought me the NYC trip for Christmas and we had the BEST time. We saw five movies:

Paintball: Only go with a gun to your head...and even then, I'd probably just take the gunshot.
Queen to Play: Beautiful, touching, extraordinarily acted...our favorite of the weekend!
Handsome Harry: An interesting storyline, with very solid performances by an outstanding ensemble cast. My #3 pick, Mark's #2.
Serious Moonlight: Unfortunately, a major movie misstep. A terrible concept and Meg Ryan needs a Botox intervention. #4 for both of us.
The Good Guy: A very creative spin on a basic idea. A superb debut for a first time writer; highly entertaining. My #2 pick, Mark's #3.

It was just so cool. The Tribeca Program Director introduced the director of the film and he/she introduced the movie...and then walked back to his/her seat where the stars of the movie were sitting, which was RIGHT BEHIND US! At first, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to concentrate (hi, no biggie, just out to watch a movie with celebrities!) but I was able to pull it together. Which was good, because after the film, the stars came up to the front with the director to discuss the film! Mark and I totally caught on too, and started sitting front and center in either the first or second row, where I could properly paparazzi everyone. We saw: Kevin Kline, Steve Buscemi, Aidan Quinn, Jamey Sheridan, Campbell Scott, Anna Chlumsky, Alexis Bledel and Andrew McCarthy...among a buttload of others! Kevin Kline is witty and charming and Alexis Bledel is clearly only comfortable in front of a camera. Oh, and I'm almost certain that Steve Buscemi looked at me once. OH! And Phoebe Cates was there because she's married to Kevin Kline. OH! And they're doing a remake of Drop Dead Fred! I don't know if she'll sign on, but man, am I excited.

The rest of the weekend was so much fun too... Mark and I shopped a lot, ate good food (mostly), and held proper movie review sessions in local bars. One bar had Kung Pao calamari and a bathroom that only played Justin Timberlake songs, displaying a giant mosaic of him on the wall. It's like they knew I was coming! OH! And as we were leaving on Sunday, who does Mark casually strike up a conversation with in a convenient store?!?! Ummm, DEAN WINTERS! Okay, that name might not ring a bell, but does Dennis Duffy (30 Rock) or F$*# Buddy (Sex and the City)?!?! Mark was so cool too...he was all, "What's up, man?" and Dean was like, "Nothing, what's up with you?" Dean was really nice and it was so exciting. So exciting, in fact, that we forgot the new overnight bag I had just bought, at the convenient store! That's so New York of us.

Moral of the Story: Thank you for the best present, Mark! And celebrities, thank you for hanging out with me. That's the way it's supposed to be, can't you see that?

Guys, I have to go home for the night... L.A. Story (Ha! Get it?!) tomorrow!

Told you!!

See?!! Suspenders are IN!! I think these outfits are so cute!!


And the suspender skirt on the right is on sale for $28 at Urban Outfitters right now!!




Bottom Line: Suspenders RULE! Suspender haters DROOL!!!

What if I bite my nails forever? Actually, "bite" isn't even an appropriate term anymore. I'm so far past that. Destroy? Annihilate? Wage war on? But it's not my fault- I am 100% addicted (drug addicts and alcoholics out there, can I get a "HELL YEAH?!") If it doesn't gross out the five of you that read my blog, I'd like to attempt to describe the thought process of an CNB (Crazy Nail Biter). It's as if my mind is independent from the rest of my body...like it's me and my nails against my mind. I honestly don't even think my teeth want to be involved, but unfortunately, they're a key player.

Nail biting takes up way more of my time than I'd like to acknowledge. When can't do it, I'm thinking about doing it. Interviews are the worst, as most companies frown on barbaric intervals of nail-gnawing in between "I'm the most professional person for this job" affirmations. It's not like they can't see my handiwork, though, so most of the time I end up sitting on my hands. Tough, since I'm big on gesticulation, and wind up substituting my head for my hands, Stevie Wonder style, as I chat. Bottom line, I am counting the minutes until I can be in my car, chilling out (that's code for "bite the living crap out of fingernails"). Honestly, not much relaxes me more. I've never had Valium, though...I smell a new addiction!

Every morning, I wake up with the same exact thought: Today is the day I will not touch my nails. Don't need to. Certainly not on the T (gross, right?) and I'll probably be working too hard to have time to do it during the day (uh, okay) and then it's the evening and I'll just have dinner and go to bed (suuuuuure).

Here's what really happens: I stare at my nails while I'm getting ready for work, biting maybe one or two to get my fix for the day (told you it was weird) and then bite them the entire T ride, as I'm reading my book and rationalizing, Okay it doesn't count until I get into work. Once I get to work, I study them and figure out which ones are going to be the biggest offenders (aka most attractive) that day. Those get the Band-aids, a la Michael Jackson. My thumbs are always bandaged, as they are the most satisfying, and my middle fingers rarely get touched (they're boring). I once had a very logical conversation with a four-year-old fellow nail biter, Jack, and he asked me which was my favorite nail to bite. Not wanting to condone the behavior, though pleased that someone had finally asked, I said I didn't know and asked him what he thought. "The thumb," he replied matter-of-factly and without hesitation. "It's got the most angles." My thoughts exactly, Jack.

I have to leave the Band-aids on while I work out at the gym (my nails ain't safe while I'm running or taking a class, trust me) and then end up battling the biting urge for the rest of the afternoon. If it's slow at work, forget about it-- type a sentence, bite my nails, take a phone call, bite my nails, read 48 Hours mysteries online, bite my nails. The T ride out is usually worse than the T ride in, as I've most likely given up.

The nighttime is usually where Mark steps in. If he sees my hands anywhere close to my head, I get a soft "Hey, don't do that, babe" which I find absolutely infuriating. I usually respond with a mature, "HEY! You are NOT the boss of me!" or "MY nails are NONE of your business," met with only a sigh and "I'm only trying to help you." In my defense, I really need my hands near my face... it's a comfort; I don't know why. In his defense, I cannot be trusted, he really is trying to help, and my nails are a pretty significant embarrassment to all that know me. I used to go into the bathroom or bite when he wasn't looking, but I'm really trying to stop now, and while I'll probably still keep acting like an adolescent, the reminders are very helpful. BUT, you are still not the boss of me, Mark.

For anyone who cares, I have identified the times when I am at my worst: When I've had too much coffee, when I'm lost in the car, when I'm working on schoolwork, and when I'm really, really, really bored (like the kind of bored where you fantasize about destroying the person/thing boring you).

I am at my best: With gloves on (WHAT?!) or when I'm out-of-control excited. Unfortunately that's it. Sometimes when I'm eating...but not always :(

If you see me biting, let me know. I can't tell you how to approach me, as I'll most likely rip your head off or lie and say I wasn't biting, but give it a go, okay? Since I've started writing this, I have only bitten my right pinkie twice. I was going to get hypnotized, but maybe I'll just blog more?

One final thing: Last week I told Mark that I wanted to start wearing suspenders. He got mad and said that he didn't propose to Paula Poundstone.

I've Let Megan McCafferty Down!!

So, as some of you may know, I have a slight (okay, insanely huge) obsession with author Megan McCafferty's Jessica Darling series. It all started on Christmas day 2001, when I received the book Sloppy Firsts (shut it, Sarah) as gift. I read it in, like, a day and a half and have been in love with this woman's style of writing ever since. There have been three other books in this particular series, Second Helpings, Charmed Thirds and Fourth Comings--all of which I have bought on or around their release date because, hi, I NEED to see what happens next.

Here's the thing. I found out a few months ago that Megan was releasing Perfect Fifths, her fifth (duh) and final (gasp) book in the series. While I was super sad to hear that I would no longer be able to read about the crazy shenanegans surrounding JD and her on again off again boyf Marcus, I was also SO EXCITED to be first in line to purchase the book. Keyword: "was".

Somehow, and I don't know how, I COMPLETELY forgot that the Perfect Fifths came out today! Maybe it's because I've been sick, maybe it's because I made plans to go out to dinner with Kerry and my friend Anu or maybe it's because I was really focused on making sure all of my shows were DVRed for the night. Whatever the reason, I feel like a REALLY bad fan. Even in years past, when I could not get to a Borders or Barnes and Noble on the release date of one of Megan's books, I ALWAYS went as soon as I could! And I NEVER actually FORGOT that a book was coming out.

I just feel a certain loyalty to Megs because I met her last year in Doylestown. She was super duper nice! She signed Fourth Comings and let me rant and rave about how much I loved her and how excited I was that she referenced both Bucks County and Kutztown in that particular book. And she talked to Mom and I for a good 10 minutes! How could I simplyFORGET that Perfect Fifths, the conclusion to a book series that I have read over and over and over again, was going on sale today?!

I know I can buy it tomorrow. I know I can use the 30% off Borders coupon that was just emailed to me today. I know Megan probably could care less. (She's just so cool like that.) But I still can't help but feel a bit guilty for not supporting my favorite gal to the best of my ability. I hope she knows that I'm still her number one fan...even if I acted like her worst enemy today.

Also, my eyebrow hurts. WTF?

Mystic Pizza

Yesterday, I had to order pizza for the office for a birthday celebration (not that I can ever partake in the festivities, unless my office really wants to see my fake-baby-lactose-potbelly in full force), so I called and ordered over the phone. Uneventful- except that I got really flustered when the pizza guy asked if I wanted jalapenos on or off the pizza (it seemed more stressful at the time)- and I said I'd pick it up in twenty-five minutes. Twenty minutes later, I peaced out of the office, armed with my trusty "directions" that the pizza place was on the left side of the street...ummmm, that would be the same street I work on.

I headed out, like, eh, I have to pee, but I'll be back in ten minutes, I'm a trooper, whatevs. I walked up the street...kept walking...kept walking... and finally stopped as I approached the turnpike (not a joke). Unfazed, I obviously chose a foreign jewelry maker to answer my directional queries, met with only a "Up-per CrUST piz-za? Piz... ZA? This... jewelry."

Okay, thanks. Walked back in the same direction, until I could see my office again (too far!), and decided to ask a friendly Newbury hipster gal. She and her skinny jeans pointed in the direction I had just come from and told me that I would walk right past it. I was like, WTF? YOU walk right past it (unproductive thinking). Turned around and headed back in the opposite direction. Far. No Upper Crust Pizza. Now at this point, I naturally assumed that they'd gone out of business in the past fifteen minutes and felt pretty annoyed that no one had given me a heads up when I'd placed the order. More importantly, my peeing situation was escalating to a sheer desperation level at an alarming rate, and I was panicking.

I next asked a group of construction workers (they eat upscale pizza, right?) and they just laughed and said that there's one in Beacon Hill (thanks), and also that "Joe's wife" once said that she had eaten at an Upper Crust on Newbury Street (double thanks).

I'd now been out of the office for a half hour and was worried that A) I would never find it B) If I did find it, the pizza would be cold and C) I would collapse from an exploded bladder and the pizza would be irrelevant. Desperately, I approached a midget douche trying to load a giant box into his small Porsche, and he proceeded to direct me back the way I'd just come, tempting me to load him onto my shoulders to physically point this f-ing place out to me.

Let me paint you a picture: I walked up and down Newbury St, on the same side of the road, over five times and Could. Not. Find. It.

Severely sweating and trying to price out how much a public urination violation would cost me, I suddenly saw my final savior up ahead: the skinny-jeaned hipster. Clutching an organic coffee and staring strangely at my red face and wild eyes, she goes, "Soooo, it's right there." And I looked up...and it's right there.

Picked the pizza up in less than three minutes and told my whole office that the pizza guys had messed up the order and made me wait while they fixed it. I felt like a major creep too, because they'd given me THREE, not just two, jalapeno containers and held the door for me as I walked out. So this will serve as my anonymous apology to Upper Crust Pizza...Sorry (and get a bigger friggin' sign!)

A night in a luxury box with a Red Sox player...no biggie!

So my FABULOUS Aunt Becky had tickets to a Bruins game last night and invited me, my cousin Jennifer and her husband Steve to go with her. Ended up being just a typical night...in a luxury box... with a former Red Sox player (who, I'll be honest here, I had never heard of) !!!

First of all, the luxury box had chicken wings, chicken fingers, pizza, poppers, hot dogs, hamburgers, veggies, chips, pretzels, fruit, popcorn, soup, gummi bears, and a beer full of fridge... FOR FREE. Just, hey, what's up, eat and drink whatever you want, watch the game (or one of the several flat screens), whatever. It was so, so cool. Naturally, I decided to take the classy approach and polish off a bottle of wine in the fridge (in my defense, there wasn't much left) and kill another full bottle. It was like the luxury box people wanted me to, you know? I certainly don't like to disappoint.

So at the end of the first quarter, Steve leans over and goes, "That guy behind you? Brian Daubach." I was like, "WHAT? No way... where?!" No clue who he was talking about, but who doesn't love fitting in? Aunt Becky actually didn't know either. Jennifer, however, not only knew who he was, but apparently is the president of his fan club. Homegirl stood, red-faced and clutching a Miller Lite, with the BIGGEST crazed schoolgirl grin I have ever seen. After posing for a picture with him, she tried to call Mark to share the good news, but ended up getting so flustered, she gave me the phone going, "I just....he's on...so...Daubach." It was the funniest thing I've ever, ever seen. I thought she was excited at her wedding and when her children were born...turns out, only kind of. This, my friends, was excitement. Anyway, Steve and Daubach are now besties and have each other's phone numbers! Jennifer better learn to pull it together, in case they ever hang out again; he's going to think she's a maniac. My interaction with ol' Daubach consisted of me asking him to move (he was blocking the March Madness flat screen) and drunkenly attempting to impress him with his own game highlights (which I messed up...uh, sorry Mark).

Oh, AND Jen and Steve got to bring home the tins with the chips, gummi bears and popcorn in them! Could the night have been any better?! Oh. Actually, I guess if maybe the Bruins had won!
THANKS AUNT BECKY!

After a small hiatus, I'm brack(et!)

I know that the people who read this have been dying for another entry, so here's one for both of you! It is time again for the March Madness and man, do I feel good about my picks! So far, I've looked up what the crap VCA and BYU stand for, chuckled over the word Gonzaga, priced out flights to Memphis, and performed an Amazon search for Cabbage Patch Kids. Hey, don't SyraCUSE me of not being invested....IT'S MARCH MADNESS BABY!

**Just so you know, my picks are in red!

Louisville/Play-in Winner What if I don't like the Play-in Winner? Ghost teams are tricky, I've always said it.

Ohio St/Siena
I think Mark Willis likes Siena? Or is it Sierra? I know he likes Ciara, the singer (raaandom). Whatever, let's just say I wouldn't have picked Siena on my own. Sienna Miller is a homewrecker and I never want homewreckers to win bracket contests.

Utah/Arizona
I got my tattoo in Utah and those Mormons messed. it. up. Plus, I'm still like, what a freakshow that Elizabeth Smart story was, right?!


Wakeforest/Cleveland St
Our valedictorian went to Wakeforest and she played basketball, so why not? She has a baby now and doesn't play ball anymore, so I thought I'd give her glory years a shout-out. (Sorry Colleen).


West Virginia/Dayton
Eh, kind of a snoozefest matchup, right?! I could have gone either way, but I googled both schools, and Dayton's rec center is called the RecPlex! Sounds like a funny dinosaur.

Kansas/N. Dakota St
I was Dorothy for Halloween when I was in first grade and all the other Dorothys (and there were a lot) just had plain red shoes. My dad not only spray-painted my shoes red, he also doused them with sparkles to make them totally authentic. Everyone was so jealous and that is why Kansas will win this game.

Boston College/Southern Cal
I live in Boston, so I want to support our schools. I also originally thought that Jordan Cavanaugh (of Crossing Jordan) attended BC, but upon further Wiki exploration, I found that she is a BU alum. My choice still stands though, because I'm pretty sure she could have gotten into BC if she'd applied.

Michigan State/Robert Morris
The only pool that invites me to play the brackets is full of Michigan State graduates. I feel as though it's only fair that I support their team for awhile (especially since it's a number two seed!) In other news, Robert Morris is named after a Revolutionary War American who was called "The Financier of the Revolution" for his financial assistance during the movement for freedom.

Connecticut/Chattanooga
This was one of the hardest decisions I've had to make in awhile. Who wouldn't root for an adorable college like Chattanooga?! But if I'm going to be smart about this, I've got to look at the seeds. And to make myself feel better, I'll think of Chattanooga as a slow moving train that wouldn't have won anyway- even if they'd had my support. Chattanooooooga! I still secretly want you to win.

BYU/Texas A&M
BYU is Brigham Young University, FYI. And the A&M ( after Texas) used to represent the institution's original name, Agricultural and Mechanical College, but no longer stands for anything. I like that they're honest about the (now) random letter attachment, and I love the state of Texas.

Purdue/Northern Iowa
Easy. I love chicken. Doesn't everybody?!

Washington/Mississippi St
So difficult. The ex-Bachelor (who I have a mental hit out on) is from Seattle-yuck. And I have put my feet in the Mississippi River (best day of Becca's life)- hooray! And apples do give me wicked reflux- blech... but I'm going with Washington on this one. I do like Washington Irving.

Marquette/Utah St
I usually go against Marquette, because I hate chicken croquettes and marionettes, but as I mentioned before, I have unrelenting anger towards Mormon tattoo artists.

Missouri/Cornell
When you're going up in the St. Louis arch, they put you in little pods and you feel like a Jetson. I found that to be pretty neat and don't think Cornell can top it.

California/Maryland
California wasn't kind to Jessica with taxes and I'm really in the mood for crabcakes.

Memphis/CS Northridge
CS stands for Cal State. Boooring. They should have it be CSI- Cal State Institution. Anyway, I'm choosing Memphis. Because I love, love, love it there.

Pittsburgh/E. Tenn. St. 

Blech!  The Steelers uniform is dreadful, but it's nice that Pittsburgh won the Superbowl. I'll support a city I've never been to because I love my home state! Seriously though...serial killer uniform.

Oklahoma St/Tennessee
Because I feel guilty about abandoning Chattanooga...

Florida St/Wisconsin
I love doing the fancy gator chomp cheer! And though I love cheese, it does not love me. I generally wouldn't hold it against the entire state, but I don't think Wisconsin has a fun cheese cheer to make me feel better about my dairy issues.

Xavier/Portland St
Cabbage Patch, Cabbage Patch, Cabbage Patch! If my parents would have signed Xavier on Becca's butt when she was little, she could've passed for one. Easily.

UCLA/VCU
VCU stands for Virginia Commonwealth University and I let my coworker, Alie, pick this one. She knows that she'll accept full blame for an undesirable result.

Villanova/American
I support my PA teams. Plus, I knew a girl in high school who went to American and she was somewhat of a sexual deviant. I mean, it's her life, but if she thinks I've forgotten what I've heard, I haven't.

Texas/Minnesota
You DON'T mess with Texas. Everybody knows that. I had the best steak there in 2002.

Duke/Binghamton
The Carolinas are where I live in my wonderworld of imagination.

North Carolina/Radford
Obviously North Carolina! If not for the beauty of the state and the basketball uniforms, how about the fact that my fave, Andy Griffith, went to UNC Chapel Hill?! He donated a bunch of his memorabilia to the university too...what a guy.

LSU/Butler
Even though Britney's back, y'all, I had to go with Butler on this one. Streaks on your china... never mattered before... who cares? Also, our landlords have been pretty decent.

Illinois/Western Ky
Why, you ask? Not a clue. Can't remember my rationale behind this one... especially since I don't think Westky's going to win this one. But I have to be true to my initial decision.

Gonzaga/Akron
Gonzag-a! Gonzag-a! Gonzag-a! YES! Aside from the fact that gorgonzola cheese doesn't bother my stomach, I despise Akon (the singer).

Arizona St/Temple
Scary campus, I hear. But maybe that means the players are fearless on the court. At the beginning of each game, if I were Temple, I'd lower the lights and boom, "Welllllcome to the Temple of DOOM!" So...

Syracuse/S. F. Austin
What a toughy! S.F Austiners call themselves the LUMBERJACKS! Love it. But Syracuse won a tricky game in a buttload of overtimes last week and I'm like, yeah, you've got my vote, SARAHcuse.

Clemson/Michigan
Everything about the word Clemson sounds so southern to me. I just picture students lounging under a large tree, with their fab accents and a glass pitcher of lemonade, and it sounds lovely. This obviously means that their basketball team should win.

Oklahoma/Morgan St
I don't know...Morgan Freeman hasn't been on his game recently and I wonder how much of that is Morgan State University's fault. Maybe a lot, maybe not at all. Either way, they shouldn't win and, memo to Morgan Freeman--- pick better movies! Geez.

Oh, and Memphis will obviously win the whole thing!

Serial killers and angry women

I watched the best episode of Criminal Minds last night! The gang profiles a killer who works in a motel, targeting couples who check in. He stalks them in their room, then kills them, putting their bodies in a car in the middle of the street waiting for another car to hit it. The gang called the accidents "the final rape" but I was sort of like, ummm, kind of a stretch, guys. I think he just wanted to be an asshole killer. Benson and Stabler never make up dumb shit like that.

Anyway, my main motivation for watching (besides Greg from Dharma and Greg), was that TEEN WITCH was the guest star! She did a bang-up job and it was lovely to see her, even though she almost got killed. I always used to confuse her with Cindy Lubbock, though Cindy tends to frequent the Lifetime circuit more than prime time television. I'm sure it's by choice.

Speaking of Lifetime, one of my favorite Lifetime movies, A Face to Die For, starring the incomparable Yasmine Bleeth, was also on the other night. A disfigured woman is duped by a "handsome" (uh, if they say so) stranger and winds up in jail. Once sprung, she gets some incredible plastic surgery (aka, the makeup artist wipes the scar makeup off Yasmine's face) and totally screws with Mr. Handsome! I remember watching the original airing in 1996 and lets just say the payback is JUST as satisfying now. My father used to love Yasmine Bleeth...I smell a birthday present!

Last thing- I mentioned Dharma and Greg before, and I just want to go on record as saying that I never cared for that show. Their marriage would never, ever happen. That flaky biotch drove me crazy and I'm nowhere near as Type A as Greg was supposed to be.

Reality tv, don't make me give up on you.

As one of reality television's biggest supporters (except for The Hills- I will never understand that show), I am disgusted at the crap-ass turn it's taken this week. Could anything be worse than the outcomes of two of my former favorite shows?! Flop Chef and The Snatchlor, you should be ashamed of yourselves. Rewarding mediocrity is unacceptable and does a major disservice to us as viewers. This is not like choosing a crazy, but talented, winner; Lisa from ANTM and Marcel from Top Chef, a win would have been fine by me! No, this is inflating the egos of two idiotic nobodies FOR NO APPARENT REASON. Padma, Tom, Gail- I blame you for Hosea. America, Jason, and women in general- we are to blame for Gayson. Host Chris Harrison- it is never your fault.

Other than make out with Leah, will someone please tell me what else Hosea accomplished on Top Chef? (If you count making out with a witch an accomplishment). My major problem with this win is that Top Chef never seems to weigh the contestant's entire portfolio when judging the final meal. Yes, Hosea's meal was probably the best in the finale, but he was completely forgettable throughout the season. It was basically a "Eh, you survived and cooked a decent final meal" nod. Plus, since when do we reward incessant whining and intolerable confidence issues? If I had to hear one more word about Stefan, I swear I was going to jam a meat thermometer through Hosea's eye. Stefan was, by far, a superior chef, but rather than use that as incentive to succeed, Hosea chose to bitch and moan about it in every. single. confessional. Kind of like Ilan did with Marcel. And then Ilan won. Maybe Papa Tom pities the Younger Sibling Syndrome. Either way, this win was Carla's or Stefan's. I don't generally care for letting a giraffe prepare my meals, but dammit if Carla didn't pull some incredible dishes out of her ass (not literally). I've never heard of putting love in a dish (though I do usually hold the hate) but whatever she did consistently impressed the judges. And Stefan was just awesome. For anyone who didn't care for him, sometimes it's okay to be confident about your abilities. It's what makes people successful. Well, that and making out with the ugliest person in the house, apparently.

As for the "sensitive single dad just trying to find love," I'd rather find him a psychiatrist. I was so horrified by his behavior that I threw three New Yorkers, one sock, and a hat at the television, yelling at Mark for the actions of a douchebag neither of us knows. Now just to be clear, I am aware of the idiocy of The Bachelor. Twenty-five makeup-caked, "amazing" women with an abundance of jewel-encrusted 80's evening gowns, all desperately looking to find love with the same super-suave, surprisingly unattached man?! Preposterous. And also my favorite reality show (Jeff Probst, you are a close second, relax). How do you top the hilarity of using "My eggs are rotting," as a pickup line?! Can't be done. Trista's baby talk, Bob's wandering tongue, Lorenzo Lamas' daughter, Brad peacing out on BOTH ladies? Perfection, and for the record, good for Brad. DeANNA, Jenny...why the hell would you want a guy who not only chose not to propose, but chose not to even date you?!

Which brings me back to Gayson. My problem is not that he chose Melissa and then wanted to break up with her (see: every other season of The Bachelor). I'm just so disgusted that rather than do it in private, he Jenny Jonesed her ass, hiding her backstage while he discussed his dickhead plan with Chris. You could tell that Melissa was surprised, humiliated and angry, and that really, really sucks. The worst part is that Gayson still hides behind all that "I had to follow my heart" and "I don't regret anything" and "It just got too hard" bullshit. As the honorable Jimmy Dugan once said, "If it wasn't hard everybody would do it. The hard is what makes it great." You big, gay, selfish, punk-ass puppet. If I were Melissa, I would have been like, "Really? Nothing? You don't regret proposing to me, telling your child I was his new mommy, and spending the holidays cozying up to my family?!" And then I would have flipped the table and smashed a vase over his head. I guarantee Host Chris Harrison would have looked the other way.

Following the ambush, Sloppy Seconds nervously wobbled out to the couch and excitedly welcomed her indecisive knight in shining armor back with open arms, as "her feelings never changed either." Desperate hag. Then the other jilted ladies (the luckier ones) weighed in, voicing a slight distaste for the way Mr. Perfect handled the situation, but generally satisfied with the fact that he had finally found happiness. And this is precisely the problem. Somewhere down the line, the happiness of these lonely ladies became overshadowed by the insistence that Gayson just deserved it more. Hello? He cries and says the word "incredible" over and over again- more deserving, no. A homo, yes. Stephanie's husband was killed and she has a small child, but is anyone losing sleep over her loss? Or giving her unlimited resources to woo and destroy a steady line of singles? Nope. Though, if we're being honest, Canada Jill needs it more. Viola Swamp ain't getting any younger.

On a personal, bitchy note, I'm also wondering why both Gayson and Molly seem unable to execute a proper smile? The corners of their mouths just don't seem to want to turn up, resulting in a weird, horizontal, rounded, pill-shaped perma-wince. Actually, their mouths resemble Melissa's former diamond. And Gayson's son looks like a demonic Eddie Munster.

That is all. Jason and Molly, good luck with your unfunny, codependent, and nondescript lives and please put Ty in therapy immediately. Melissa, find yourself a straight guy and stay away from public matchmaking. It's what I did.

Well? Will You?

What do you guys think about that?

Whaaaat??

My house reeks of skunk! I looked around outside, but couldn't find the culprit... not that I'd know what to do with it anyway. I generally don't mind a skunk smell, but this is overpoweringly nauseating. Where's Velda Plendor when you need her?!

Also, at 7-11 this morning, a guy walked in wearing those crazy white contacts and I swear my heart stopped. At first I was all "Okay, 6' 1", black trench coat, shaved head, jeans and a t-shirt... no sweat, officer!" But then he started crazy-eye-contact-focusing on me and I peaced out immediately. As much as I'd love to help the police fight crime, I do NOT like homicidal Halloween costumes in February.

Who wants to know what bugs me?

How will I know when you're REALLY exhausted if it's all you ever complain about? Either you are sleeping too much, or too little. Figure it out and grab a coffee. Seeing as how I don't know any single parent surgeons or manual laborers, I sometimes wonder how I know so many narcoleptics. I don't mind if you're tired, just go to bed and stop basing all our conversations around it. Someday you probably will be legitimately exhausted and I'm going to be like, "Eh, I don't know."

Insomniac!

Boy, have I had the toughest time SLEEPING lately! I've been staying up so late and I can't do anything about it! I feel like even if I am exhausted (like right now), I still find stuff to do (like post a note on blog site). Plus, tonight I've been doing some Internet research on Gretchen Rossi and her supposed relationship with that guy who is not Jeff (may he rest in peace). I'm having a problem because I really like Gretchen and her hair. Sure, she can be super annoying, but I kind of believed she was really with Jeff because she loved him. It didn't hurt that he was rich, but I think it is interesting that she didn't push him to get married, which is how she would've gotten the most money. I don't know WHAT to think now after Tamra's accusations on the reunion show. I do know that Tamra's a really big biotch, though. That's why I'm still kind of on Gretchen's side. But actually, I'm pretty much just always on Jeana's side no matter what anyone else does. I love her even if her kids are lame.

Okay, I think I need to go to sleep now. Or, as Michelle Tanner would say, "I think it's time fo' bed." ("Can we watch Arsenio?")

Today! Ack!

I'm having a really hard time concentrating today. I feel cloudy and (Kevin) spacey :( Everything seems to be taking just a wee bit longer to figure out than it should. And I brought these chocolate nonpareil things in for my coworkers and people keep flipping out with excitement and I have to say casual, officey things like, "Betcha can't eat just one!" or "Oh, definitely have one- indulge!" or "It's the weather's fault we eat so much in the winter!" I just want to be like, "I'm cloudy and unwitty today-- sorry everyone! Have a chocolate!"

Also, I think that the orange square with white half-circles in the upper right hand corner of Internet Explorer looks like raw salmon. It says "View feeds on this page." And looks like raw salmon. I think it every day and now I have somewhere to write it!

PS, someone else just came up for a chocolate... I said "Go for it! It's your dessert!"

3 things on my mind.

Well, I just found out that the new housewife on "Real Housewives of New York City" is the ex-wife of Gilles Bensimon! AKA, the guy who you win a photo shoot with if you win "America's Next Top Model!" Tyra says his name all French, but it's dumb because everyone knows she doesn't know french. Besides, french people are thin because the girl in The Beach is from France and she's a waif. And Tyra is no waif.

My stomach hurts, so I just had a Rice Krispy treat. It STILL hurts and I'm baffled. RKTs usually solve a lot of my problems.

Also, I'm thinking about getting semi-bangs. Not straight across the forehead, hipster bangs....more like longer accents to my face. Off to the side...there when I need them, gone when I don't. I'll have to carry bobby pins around in my pocket. I always carry two, but I'll probably up it to four.

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