Here I Go Again...

...just not on my own this time. I had almost forgotten about this fun little blog...at least the new and improved one will be! More to come soon...

If At First You Don't Succeed, Tri, Tri Again

So far, so good with the repeat guy...I'll call him Tri Guy. He's training for a triathalon and, well, the rest is self-explanatory. Still cute and funny. I'm trying to discern whether he has all the intangibles, but I'm enjoying the emails so far. He even sent me one this morning to tell me to have a good day- love that! That's something I always did for my guys, so I think, for once, I'm going to sit back a little and enjoy being wooed. Long distance, of course, but what the hey. I still can't figure out what it is about me that attracts triathletes. I need to add that to the list of questions to ask my friends to figure out what is wrong with me since it never works out.

Now, there is the issue of a SMOKIN' hot, world champion, Italian kite-boarder living in Miami who has emailed me twice. Twice!!! Only problem is, without a subscription, I can't read what he said, or email him back. I'm thinking it might be worth the $15! Holy moly, he's hot.

And, of course, Bachelor #2. What would a good start to a romance be without him popping up? I'll start calling him The Counselor. Of course, I'll forgive him since he said Stephanie Seymour reminded him of me except I have a better ass. Damn right, and I also have the upper hand since I never slept with Axl Rose. Heh. The poor boy loves me and just won't admit it three years into this nonsense. Oh, well, c'est la vie! Onward and upward! I hope?

A Horse is a Horse, Of Course, Of Course

I, along with millions of other sports fans, was seated in front of a television on Saturday to watch the Belmont Stakes. Unlike most other folks, though, I certainly didn't think the outcome was a mere finality. Big Brown's trainer, Rick Dutrow, Jr., had simply mouthed off too much. Where I come from, we call it 'your mouth writing a check your ass can't cash'. Simply put, everyone, human animal or other animal, has a bad day. How many times have you seen a pitcher come off a 3 hitter and get shelled in the first inning on his next outing? Receivers win a game one week and have butter fingers the next? Cyclists simply blow up and drop out after winning a stage in the Tour de France? Me, have a fantastic workout one day, feeling like I could climb Mt. Everest (or at least leave all the chicks in the Friday 'Housewife Circuit' Class panting in the dust), to wanting to curl up in a non-exercise ball and die the next morning?

People have bad days. Dogs have bad days. Horses have bad days. Anyone with eyes and half a brain could see Big Brown started badly and never hit his stride. He fought the jockey, danced all over the track and simply didn't want, or need, to run. And Kent Desormeaux, the jockey, knew the race was over and pulled the horse up so there was no danger of injury. While I do think running those horses in that kind of heat is a dubious practice at best, I think even PETA would have to agree there was no doubt that Desormeaux had Big Brown's best interests at heart. The trainer? Maybe not so much. I think there was a little matter of the debt his mouth had incurred. While Dutrow has backed off his statement that the loss was the jockey's fault, he might want to keep his mouth shut until Big Brown's next race on August 23rd. It might cost more than he bargained for.

My Heroes Have Always Been Kobes

3 words...Kobe Damn Bryant. An absolutely transcendent player, he was brilliant in every way tonight but making free throws (except when it really counted, of course). Ran the offense, kept the team up and focused, played hard defense, drove the basket, got the fouls, and was even humble in the post-game. But not too humble. He's Kobe Damn Bryant.

Fun Playoff-related fact: 2 summers ago my youngest son and I played the bumper cars with Kevin Garnett and his kids at Santa Monica Pier. Super nice guy, with a gorgeous wife and a beautiful, polite family. And hysterically funny looking in a bumper car.

Ex Marks the Spot...and It Is Permanently Stained

Okay, now I've read everything. I just read an article on how divorced people found love through their exes in different ways. And, yes, a couple of these people were actually introduced their new loves by their exes. Wha??? After over 7 years of being divorced, I just want MY ex not to call at 7:30 a.m. on Saturday or Sunday morning when he KNOWS someone has slept over. This is courtesy of snooping by my wife-in-law (his wife) as she drives by my house on the way to play tennis. Geez. They get dates, I get cock-blocked. I'm not asking to be Bruce and Demi, Lord knows. I don't even like the guy, much less want to hang out with him. Even though I can definitely picture him being Bruce-like; not in a cool, 'Die Hard' way, but in a Seagrams Wine Cooler/bad blues singing kind of way. I just want him to get a hobby other than trying to make me miserable. Please.

Can You Say Shrinkage?

Okay, here's a perfect example of why I'm no good at online dating. The site I had the most luck with (and that is dubious at best) was a site that matched people interested in fitness. Mainly because the guys on the previous site I had tried didn't quite understand what an athletic body type is. That doesn NOT mean your dominant hand is all buff from all the channel surfing.

Anyhoo, when I did my quick look through a few days ago, I guess I showed up as active again and have been getting some emails, which I can't even read because I haven't subscribed. I can see the pictures, though, if they have one posted. Other than the one I mentioned that I am cautiously excited about (and who still has my personal email), the rest range in ridiculous to downright hilarious. Please...no more body building pictures! I swear I'm going to put that in my profile. I just got one from a guy whose username is HugeDavid. And, judging by his Hulk Hogan getup (now with more stupid skull caps to hide your baldness!), I'm guessing the 'roid use means not the good kind of huge, if you smell what I'm steppin' in. He looks straight-up WWE. I am howling...not to sound snotty, but what in the name of sweet, sweet Moses makes him think I would remotely be interested? I'm not interested in any pile driver from him, my friend.

A Dying Breed

I hope the rumors that Paul Newman is facing terminal cancer aren't true. While at 83 he has led a long, happy, exemplary life, we as a nation, and particularly a culture, are going to be much less for his passing. While he isn't perfect, as no humans are, he has always displayed a strength, class and dignity sorely missing among the Hollywood stars of the last couple of decades. He has managed to enjoy a long, happy marriage with Joanne Woodward without sex tapes or jumping on couches. He has pursued his hobby of racing cars without turning it into a paparazzi sideshow and photo op. He has quietly donated millions and millions of dollars to charities through his Newman's Own line of natural and organic foods without feeling the need to call a press conference or calling attention to himself in any way. He has simply always, for the most part, chosen to do the right thing. He is such a class act. I was incredibly saddened by the death of Sydney Pollack recently for the same reasons. He was successful, funny, brilliant and a genuinely good guy who made significant contributions to our culture in a quietly dignified way. Our lives were truly enriched by these gentlemen, and our culture will lose much as we lose them.

What Goes Around Comes Around

I received an email from a guy I corresponded with a couple of years back yesterday. He used to be quite hot- tall, funny, athletic, successful...all the right things. He kind of disappeared, but saw my pic online and got back in touch. I haven't made my subscription active, but I guess sinced I logged on the other day it made me visible again. Who knows? He's had plenty of time to get unhot in the meantime, but at least it is something. We'll see- I'm pretty skeptical, but everything does happen for a reason, so I'll go with it for a while. I'm definitely taking the nothing ventured, nothing gained, nothing to lose route with this one. And praying he's still hot:) Yes, I'm somewhat superficial. Who isn't?

Blue's Clues

The comedy gods have come through for me...nothing has put a grin on my face quite like the report that Roger Clemens kept Viagra in his locker at Yankee Stadium. Heh. I guess The Rocket needed a little extra fuel to keep up with the teenage country singers? While I certainly think it did have to do, as people have claimed, with 'endurance', I think it was post-game, not on the mound. At least not mound in the singular sense. Ha.

I don't know why I'm surprised. And the real winners? The makers of Viagra. Any publicity is good publicity, right? Unless you are the Rocket, of course. The only way it could get worse for him is to head even further into R. Kelley territory. He had better start having any incriminating moles removed post haste. And hire a damn good divorce attorney...this could get real ugly, real quick. Now where's my handy, dandy notebook?

No More Yanky My Wanky...the Donger Need Food!

I feel like Long Duck Dong from 'Sixteen Candles', only with 100% less sex. I'm exhausted. One of my favorite cousins got married over the weekend, and the last week or so, most days have been spent celebrating or recovering in some fashion. So, she's married, it was a fantastic wedding and an even better party, and I need to take a break! While I appreciate all the compliments I've received on how young and hot I look, a few days of partying remind me I'm not so young anymore. I couldn't even make it through the hoops last night, I was out like a light.

News from the dating front...none still. But, I'm doing well in not contacting Bachelors #1-3 at all, and not responding to them. I'm feeling better about myself, so hopefully it will start spilling over. I took my 15 year old son as my date to the wedding party and had a great time, he was definitely the most handsome man there. And didn't have to worry about him calling back! And I'm still nixing the online thing as of right now. I think I need to just take my chances in the real world, I just need to get out of the LBC. I'll get back on the road for work next week and maybe something good will happen, no matter what it is.

The Real World

My current dating drought (almost 6 months, in case you missed my ALL-CAPS tirade a couple of posts ago) has made me consider trying online dating again. Or, as I have taken to calling it, long-line dating. As in there has been a long line of disappointments and a few broken hearts. But, in a quick perusal of the two sites I have used in the past, mainly I just see a long line of I Don't Think So. I think I'll take my chances in the real world instead of the virtual world. While the opportunities are fewer, at least I can get a real feel for the guy up front, rather than a virtual one. Because you know what? Online first impressions (and even second impressions) are virtually always wrong impressions.

Plus, I think right now it would be better for my psyche to be rejected for real issues than virtual ones. You know?

I've Got Your Iron Man

Mission accomplished with the lingerie shopping last night. I do always feel better when I buy something pretty, even if it is only underwear and no one is going to see it *sigh*. Go figure, huh? I also bought some books, a replacement for my dead 'happiness bamboo' (I'm guessing that was killing my feng shui) and went to a movie. I had a little time, so I stopped in the only restaurant with a bar in 'The Mall' here in the LBC- the Little Bitty City- the always happening Ruby Tuesday. Really, who can place a name on you? Ugh. Luckily for me (please re-read those words and make sure they are dripping with sarcasm), a group of gals around my age who have teenagers as well were there getting there drink on and heading to the movie. Sex and the City, I figure. Now, I'm not hating on SATC...went with some of my gals and loved, loved, loved it. Of course, we did it right. We went to brunch, got liquored up and looked HOT. Actually, it has helped me get out of my funk. Anyhoo, I walk in, dressed pretty cute (seriously, not too hard to look cuter than the soccer moms that were there), with my Victoria's Secret bag o'goodies. I sat at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. They were drinking and, I'm serious, this is the most giggly, obnoxious group of Fortysomethings you can imagine. Loud. And they were giving me the side-eye, now. Naturally, I assume that I am quite the topic of conversation here in the LBC today. I was a little uncomfortable at first, but came to realize that so what? I'm single, I wasn't trying to pick anyone up, and it's not my fault they all quit making efforts to look good or have anything interesting to say a long time ago. So there. They didn't spoil my good mood.

Now, on to Iron Man. All I can say is the movie rocked, the pad in Malibu was totally boss, and Robert Downey, Jr. was majorly foxy in this flick. I walked in an admirer and walked out in lust. Damn, where's my Iron Man? Go forth and see this film if you haven't.

Six F'n Months

I was just reading the blog of one of my favorite radio personalities. She is currently casually dating one guy, and evidently still dating around. In today's installment, she is asking what the rule of thumb is when a guy asks you for your number. Does he call in 48 hours? 24? 72? HOW THE HELL WOULD I KNOW???? I HAVEN'T HAD A DATE, OR ANY INTEREST IN ME, IN 6 FREAKING MONTHS!!!!

I can't believe I just typed those words, but they are true. I'm sure part of it has been the hermit-like existence I've been living, but still. So, this week (actually starting last weekend), I'm trying to get back to the old me- just an improved version. I'm making sure to dress cute everyday, I'm going to start seeing movies again and, best of all, hitting Victoria's Secret this evening. New lingerie is bound to make me feel better. Feeling a little naughty is always a good catalyst. Hopefully putting something different out there will change my karma! Here's to hot shoes and hot lingerie, and hopefully a hot man:)

It's Been Good Getting to Know Me More

After a loooong hiatus of soul searching, being vaguely depressed and, in general, not being myself, I'm attempting to pull myself up by my boot straps and get back to being myself. In all this time, I haven't written a word. Blog, short stories, essays, nothing...and I have missed it and missed the outlet it gives me. So, I'm back!

America's Next Top Model, Episode 2

Another Wednesday, another Top Model installment! The girls have all been brought to New York City in what I can only imagine is the hope that the city makes them look more like models. Don't see it happening, ya'll. This group is the most in need of a makeover I've ever seen. When is that episode? My observations:

That Dominique? She looks like she would cut a bitch. I miss Jaslene...she was a kinder, gentler tranny.

*There is a TGIFriday's commercial promoting some menu items that are piled with meat, cheese, and God knows what else, with a dipping sauce on the side. I sincerely hope those items come with a coupon for an angioplasty.

These girls have seriously got to stop squealing. Some of them are freaking 24 years old! 'Here's a tube with a message from Tyra'. *Screams* 'Here's directions to the loft' *Screams* 'Here's the beds' *Screams* You get the picture. It is already on my last nerve.

Some of the girls go out for a smoke in clear defiance of the no-smoking symbols emblazoned on the frosted glass doors. How very chic. Kim, she of the scrunched-up face, is all, 'But, like, when I need one, I just, like, need one, and, like, have to have it right, like, then.' If there is a God, she'll be gone tonight.

Fatima is a biyotch. She's gonna ride that female circumcision train all the way from Somalia to the top...verbally bitch-slap you, then cry 'I can't have sex with men!' Mark it down.

They are in Times Square!*Screams* The Jays are there with Badgely and Mischka of Badgely Mischka *Screams*. Oh my God, real designers I've heard of! Not like those wannabes in L.A. Ooooh, they are brave. These gals are going to wear their clothes in a fashion show right in the middle of Times Square. *Screams* Obviously, they haven't seen these chicks walk. Tyra(nt) better say goodbye to the free swag after this debacle. The girls are predictably awful. But, it is only the second episode. And Scrunch-Face Kim is complaining about how much the clothes cost, and that she just doesn't agree with it. Hmmm. Defiantly smoking, saying she's not into fashion...I sense some editorial foreboding going on here.

Weird Amis (formerly Amy), is talking about her looks. 'I'm a ragamuffin,' she states, all wild-eyed. You go, Oliver Twist.

Fatima and Marvita are so going to duke it out soon. Those names do seem a perfect bill for some Foxy Boxing, right? Fatima, the Somalian Samurai vs. Marvita, the San Francisco Treat! I'd watch it. And the loser has to fight Dominique. Now THAT's scary.

Paulina Porizkova is here! She is the new Twiggy this season, who was the new Janice Dickinson the last couple of seasons. The girls all go to the Elite modeling agency *Screams* for critiques. Paulina is going to rock...she doesn't mince words, a la Janice, but with 85% less plastic surgery and 100% less crazy. She lets the girls have it- Weird Amis has bad skin (most of them do, actually). And I am dying...she just told Dominique she looks like a transvestite. You go, my sister in snark. Poor Dominique has evidently not been told that before...at least to her face. Heh.

Marvita is going to be so, so quotable. My faves from this episode, both referencing Fatima:

'This ho is trippin'

'Ive never met a mean African except for you.' Guess she never ran into Idi Amin.

God, those 2 are killing me softly with their verbal sparring.

Photoshoot! *Screams* The girls meet Tyra(nt) and she solemnly tells them about an organization they will be working with that help homeless youth reach their goals. Worthy cause, good for you, Tyra(nt). She should have stopped right there. Oh, but wait...there's more. Not only does she shamelessly plug her show, she then tells them they will be posing as homeless people. In designer clothes. What's next...posing as amputees to spotlight disability issues? Ugh. Not feeling it.

Dominique is getting her makeup done; the makeup artist is telling her she is beautiful. She tells him Paulina said she looked like a drag queen, and he looks at her like, 'Duh!' Then, he says people mistake him for a woman all the time, too. Heh. Love him, he needs his own show.

Fatima fake makes up with Marvita. Watch your back, Marvita. That foxy boxing match is still on in the Somalian's head.

Panel time! *Screams* Ms. Jay is all bedazzled...his panel schtick this season is to wear a vest that has all the gals' names on it in jeweled letters. Then, when they are voted off, he will dramatically rip off their names. I love that queen. He also calls Dominique draglicious.

Scrunch-Face Kim tells Tyra(nt) she doesn't like fashion. Tyra(nt)'s head spins around a la The Exorcist, Paulina and Nigel are agape, and Ms. Jay clutches her pearls and swoons. Bu-bye, Scrunch-Face. (How 'bout that editorial foreboding, eh?) Enjoy your destiny of being a chain-smoking bank teller in Worcester, Mass.

It's down to Weird Amis and the chick that is so bland no one remembers her name. Weird Amis needs to invest in a bra...not pretty. Anyway, the Oliver Twist thing is still working for Amis, she stays and hopefully goes to wash her face.

Next week, makeovers! *Screams* Thank God...these girls are wrecked.

Take This Job and Love It

Obviously, some jobs are better than others. I'd rather be selling construction materials than, say, bottled water. What are you going to say, that my water is wetter? More clear? Less taste? That's got to be a tough sell. Here is my list of what I believe to be the best jobs:

1. Meteorologist- You don't even have to be right. I mean, seriously...how many days is your forecast actually right? Maybe it's a Southern thing, but I'm going with 'hardly ever'. Plus, when have you ever heard of a meteorologist getting fired for being wrong? Maybe for a dearth of personality, lack of camera presence, bad wardrobe...but never for being wrong. How many of us could stay on the job being wrong most of the time? I rest my case.

2. ESPN Personality- Again, you don't even have to be right. You don't have to be polite, pertinent, make valid points, research, or know anything about your subject. You just have to be loud. REAL loud. Loud enough to drown out the other guy. Then, evidently, you win!

3. Being Tilda Swinton. She's bullet-proof. Seriously.

4. Maxim Music Critic- You don't even have to listen to the whole album, just a couple of advance, unedited singles. Then, give the album an arbitrary rating and sufficiently pretentious review. Where do I sign up?

5. My Ex-Husband- Oh, to be absolutely right, absolutely 100% of the time. Must be heaven.

6. Katherine Heigl's Hair Stylist- Evidently, these days she is embracing the Harried, Hurried Suburban Mom look. All you have to do is throw some hot rollers on her head in no particular order, and off she goes! She's late, ya'll, and it's her day for snacks at ballet.

Knee-Deep in the Hoop-blog 2/27/08

I haven't watched quite as much hoops in the last couple of weeks as I usually do, but I do have a couple of observations:

1. Memphis was so ripe to be taken down. I took my boys to Memphis on the Saturday of the big Memphis/Tennessee game. We saw a movie (U2 in 3D- totally boss, check it out), ate lots of good food and watched some hoops; not Memphis, I absolutely would have sold those tickets. We also went for the pre-game atmosphere; being a total sports geek, I love the buildup as much as the event. The city was crazy...blue everywhere, good-natured (at least early) jabs between the 2 sets of fans, and more than one (in retrospect) unfortunate tribute to the Tigers shaved in goofy white boys' heads. This is the same city that lets out a collective yawn over their NBA team, the Grizzlies. I had no doubt they would lose, it was sadly inevitable.

2. It was during this game that Bruce Pearl officially became one of the most annoying characters in all of sports to me. His interview going into halftime with Erin Andrews was more of an ESPN audition tape (now, with more groping!). He is so self-important and full of himself...he loves to hear himself talk. Digger Phelps- watch out, he's after your job. He's already got the questionable fashion sense down pat.

3. We watched my beloved Mississippi State Bulldogs actually pull out a road win over South Carolina in overtime. They are more than talented enough to beat South Carolina (who is mediocre at best), but this was exactly the kind of game they generally tank. Arkansas had lost earlier, State had the chance to extend their lead in the SEC West and guarantee a first-round bye in the SEC Tournament. I had no doubt they would blow it. But, oh-me-of-little-faith, Ben Hansborough (Tyler's little bro) was fouled on a last second 3 pointer that would tie the game. He then sunk all 3 free throws to send the game to OT, and the Dawgs never looked back. I'm still stunned.

4. Second least surprising outcome of a game in the last week- Newly minted #1 Tennessee gets taken out by Vanderbilt. Nothing to say except that it couldn't happen to a nicer guy in a hideous orange jacket.

How to Lose This Gal in Ten Words or Less

I just read yet another article on what not to say to a woman. They always crack me up. ‘Don’t tell her she’s fat.’ Uh, don’t tell anyone they’re fat, dude. Anyway, in the spirit of the ongoing list I’ve been creating of what I’m looking for in a partner (working title-‘Why I’ll Always Be Single’), here are a few suggestions of ‘Things To Never, EVER Say to JK'. These are actual quotes from actual men I’ve dated/encountered, albeit briefly. Very briefly, in most cases:

1. ‘Don’t you just love American Idol?’
I didn’t stick around to see if this was a joke.

2. ‘I love Italian food, too! Olive Garden is my favorite restaurant.’
Other disqualifications: Mexican:Cozymel’s, Chinese: Anything with ‘Wok’ in the name, and the mere mention of a buffet.

3. ‘Subtitles? You mean I have to think AND read?’
Well, can you?

4. ‘You should have worn something tighter.’
*crickets*

5. ‘So you wouldn’t get boobs even if I bought them for you?’
No, and even if I did, I still wouldn’t let you touch them.

6. ‘Why do you change your hair so much. Other women don’t.’
It’s my one vain thing. I get ready in 30-45 minutes tops, start to finish. Leave me alone.

7. ‘I’m glad you aren’t the kind of girl who likes flowers.’
I am, actually.

8. (After I’ve cooked dinner) ‘This is good. But you should taste my Mom’s.’
Then let your mom cook it for you, Mr. Ungrateful.

9. (After I’ve declined ice cream…which I simply don’t care for) ‘You really should eat. You need some fat on top of that muscle so you can be more feminine.'
Nice.

10. ‘I don’t really read.’
Well, as they say, ‘See ya in the funny pages.’ Or, in this case, maybe not.

11. ‘All girls say SAY they like sports, but none of them really understand them. No way.’
No comment. I'm not going to embarrass you.

12. ‘I’m not really an SEC fan. But if I rooted for any SEC team it would be Alabama.’
Runs screaming.

13. ‘You look pretty good for someone that old.’
And you look pretty good for someone that’s about to be alone.

14. ‘You don’t really ever think you’ll meet someone, do you?’
Sits in silent dismay.

15. ‘I don’t really watch football.’
Well, good thing for you, your Saturdays will still be free!

And the worst…

16. ‘I don’t get it.’

The Big 'O's

I am one of the few people who was actually interested in the Academy Awards this year, since I had actually seen most of the films. Not just 'Juno'. Things I found of interest:

Of course, what will be referred to from now on as the 'Gary Busey Incident'. Seriously, if you are going to invite someone with major head trauma and a history of crazy, shouldn't you have a guard standing by? Like Ryan Seacrest was going to do anything. Jennifer Garner handled herself well and I already loved Laura Linney, now I love her more for coming to Jennifer's rescue while Ms. Seacrest did nothing.

John Travolta and his spray-on hair. Oh. My. God. I was howling...someone has been staying up too late watching infomercials. I'm just surprised he didn't stroll the red carpet wearing Blue Blockers shades.

Helen Mirren was even more awesome and stunning than usual...perfection. Millions of gay men exploded in a cloud of glitter and confetti when she appeared.

I have a new female crush, (I've only ever had one other one, Angelina Jolie), Marion Cotillard. I just watched 'La Vie En Rose', and immediately wanted to move to Paris and smoke cigarettes while listening to Edith Piaf. She was amazing. And Marion Cotillard is, in my teenage son's word(s), 'Hhhhhot'. She was so gorgeous on the red carpet, yet was able to be such a crippled little creature in the movie. Unbelievable. And I don't know who that idiot was that ABC had on the carpet, but I'd have given a huge amount of money for Marion to light a cigarette and say, 'You stoopeed American cow...I know you did not see my feelm. It is not possible that you can read.' That would have been boss. But, she was polite and charming. I was happy she won, even over Laura Linney.

I still can't believe 3 songs from 'Enchanted' were nominated, and only one from 'Once' and none from 'Into the Wild'. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I was soooo happy when 'Once' won, though. And Jon Stewart gets major props from me for letting Marketa Irglova speak. Totally boss.

One of the most interesting stories of the night was Tilda Swinton. This chick makes whatever movie she wants to make, and is loved. Lives with an artist, Robert Byrne, who is supposed to be brilliant. They have twins together. She then brings home this young hottie to have a little fun with, and old Robert seems to be okay with it. They are all living as one big happy family. So, she has a great career, one intellectually stimulating partner, one smokin' hot boy toy, kids, the balls to make fun of Clooney at the Oscars, and the gays worship her even though she wore a frock that looked like someone pulled some drapes off a Tim Burton movie set and threw it on her. She probably could even wear Crocs* and they'd love her. Who says a woman can't have it all these days.

*Crocs- the single worst thing to happen to fashion in the last decade. Even worse than Uggs.

I adore Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and was happy to see him win an Independent Spirit Award for 'The Savages'. He didn't seem as grouchy as usual. He and Laura Linney were absolutely terrific in that movie. I also loved him in 'Before the Devil Knows You're Dead'. I didn't see 'Charlie Wilson's War', so I can't speak to his performance in it, even though I'm sure he was awesome. I had to skip that movie, it falls under the 'Julia Roberts Codicile' in my movie-viewing guidelines. That being, that I really heartily dislike Julia Roberts and refuse to watch any movie in which she appears except 'Notting Hill'. So, sorry, Phil.

Renee Zellweger always has the same look on her face- she squints her eyes and purses her lips. Bless her heart, if she would have opened her eyes, she might have noticed she was marrying a repressed, balding homosexual who always wears cutoff T's and too-tight blue jeans. She must not hang out at too many gay bars. Or gyms.

I give Miley Cyrus 18 months or less until she's downing shots and snorting lines at Hyde. Mark it down. Plus, what in the world was she doing there?

Rebecca Miller (Daniel Day-Lewis' wife) reminded me of another interesting story that got practically zero press last year. It came out that her father, Arthur Miller, had a son with Down Syndrome that he forced their mother to institutionalize and pretty much ignored him his entire life. Miller didn't acknowledge him until after his own death, in his will. Fascinating read...was in 'Vanity Fair'. Not really Oscar-related, but interesting.

Hilary Swank is a fine little filly. I know her trainer is proud.

And, speaking of horses, finally, everyone is complaining about the horses in 'Michael Clayton'. Was I the only one who made the connection, tenuous as it was? Huh.

America's Next Top Model- Premiere

It's America's Next Top Model, ya'll! I just heart this show...nothing does my heart more good than to see perfectly average gals embarrass themselves on TV thinking they can be a 'Top Model'. But, you know, since the last few winners have mainly been known for appearing on reality shows, in Playboy, music videos and Meow Mix promo events, who knows...if that's your dream, you go for it! Maybe I can be a Top Model, too!

A few thoughts:

1. Okay, so Marvita is this season's 'Victim of Rape/Abuse Who Auditioned Last Year But Didn't Make It'. Year before last's version, Jaslene the seemingly hearing-impaired transvestite, won. Marvita has the same Ghetto I'm-Gonna-Git-U-Sucka vibe that Brandy did last season. I loved that magenta-banged biyotch. Let the cat fights begin!

2. They had the finalists (well, not the final finalists) all dress in schoolgirl uniforms. If I didn't know better, I'd think straight people were writing this show. Must have been Nigel Barker's input.

3. I wish I had a screen cap of the crowd of girls when the 2 Jays walked out...this gal's eyes ROLLED BACK IN HER HEAD she was so excited. I thought she was going to swoon. She then said, 'Mr. Jay is FINE...I don't think ya'll understand.' Uh, Mr. Jay is short, orange, has freaky whitish hair and is, *cough*, GAY! If not, he needs his man-card taken for shopping via International Male. But, I'm gonna give him some Southern love...he brought the snark last season, and continued last night. By the by, I kept notes...the almost-fainter was Jennifer...24 years old, delusional and destined to a sexless marriage. She didn't make the cut. Ya think?

4. Okay, I'm seriously starting to hate the Tyra(nt). Modeling is supposed to be about impossibly beautiful women wearing unaffordable clothes and making it all look unattainable. Am I right? And she shows up in that bad wig and worse slapstick routine? Bitch, please. She's ruining all that is good and holy about fashion. Now I must go put my hand on my lastest issue of Vogue and pray. At least I can leave the part out about one of these scrubs ending up on the pages...not happening, my friend.

5. For the most part, they all have bad skin. I mean BAD skin...visible acne. What? You couldn't find some cute girls by the Clearasil in Target? They seriously need better scouts.

6. I love, love, love me some Ms. Jay. No snark...seriously. My teenage son is really concerned about how much I love that queen.

7. Finally, there was so much squealing and bouncing in this video, I wasn't sure if I was watching 'America's Next Top (Boat) Model' or a 'Girl's Gone Wild' open call. Geez, get a hold of yourselves. You are this pumped up about getting some free Cover Girl mascara? 'Cuz you know most of you aren't making any scratch off this.

That's the premiere ep, ya'll. (Cue the music) 'It's the hap-happiest time...of the year...'