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...'

No Sushi for Me, Thanks. Ever Again.

Being a parent is hard work...no doubt about it. There are no hard and fast rules, no one-size-fits-all handbooks, and all training is, unfortunately, on the job. That being said, I think I've done an okay job, so far. One of the first things you teach your child is to dress him or herself, starting with underwear. And, believe me, when they are a toddler they sometimes forget the drawers so you've got to check. Now, I promised myself that I wouldn't pile on Britney Spears anymore, since mental illness is certainly no laughing matter. And I do think her parents are getting her somewhat under control. But, the last few nights, she has been photographed out and about with no panties on, flashing her goods to the paps. Just like I always make sure my boys have used the potty and brushed their teeth before we leave the house, knowing Brit's history, don't you think Mom and Pop Spears should make sure she is wearing some undies before she hits the door? For everyone's sake? I know it would ruin my dinner if I rolled up on that peepshow at the front door. At a sushi joint, no less. *Ugh* I cannot begin to fathom the embarrassment her boys are going to experience at some point...kids can surf the web awful young these days, ya'll.

I'd mention Lindsay Lohan's mom, but it is evident Lindsay grew up in a 'pants-optional' kind of home. So, carry on.

The Day the Dictatorship Died

Big news today...Fidel Castro has stepped down as head of state and, probably more importantly, head of the military in Cuba. Other than possibly disproving the previous premature reports of his death, what does this mean? Who knows what it means for Cuba. What does it mean for Americans? A proliferation of pretentious talking heads droning on about the humanitarian and economic impact on 'Cooba' when you know all they care about is getting those cigars so that they can continue to be smug and self-important during their weekend soirees at 'the shore'.

Knee-Deep in the Hoop-blog 2/19/08

I missed a handful of pretty decent college hoops games last night due to my dire medical situation. I was in bed at 8:30 p.m. But, medical experts have upgraded my condition from 'advanced rigor mortis' to simply 'dead', so I am trying to slowly move back toward the land of the living. I saw that Louisville won again, their 6th straight, and I'm going to assume the feat was accomplished without Rick Pitino wearing another white suit a la Colonel Sanders. He wore one in the first half of the Louisville/Georgetown game, but mysteriously came out the second half wearing his usual dark suit. The official line was that he 'spilled a Coke on it'. Right. I like to picture Mrs. Pitino on the cellie telling him to 'take that ridiculous thing off. You look like Boss Hogg's sleazy cousin from Jersey. Those laughs you hear? They are not laughing with you. Trust.'

There's not too many interesting games tonight, but Wednesday night will be huge, especially for the SEC West. My beloved Mississippi State Bulldogs will be on the road at the Devil's Playground, or Oxford, playing Ole Miss. Ole Miss has been struggling lately, but never count out a rivalry game. Ever. Just as importantly, LSU is at Arkansas, who is two games behind Miss. State in the standings. LSU has been surging lately after firing their coach, and the interim coach is a former Bulldog, Butch Pierre. How 'bout a little Bulldog love, my friend? An LSU win in Fayettenam would be a major boost for the Dawgs, as would another road win in Oxford.

I think I will hibernate one more night, then let the hoops begin!

If I Die, Who Will Find the Body?

I feel like crap today. Absolute caca. I hate being sick. My assistant is sick as well, so guess who gets to work? Yep, me. Being the boss IS boss most of the time, but when you are sick, it's like being sick when you're a mom...tough s*it, sister. Suck it up and work it out.

I'm ready for bed.

Will Windex Get That Out?

I saw 'There Will Be Blood' yesterday, finally. My conclusion? Daniel Day-Lewis was astounding...he deserves every award he has won and will win. He was pitch-perfect. I loved many of the parts, but I am still mulling over how I feel about the sum of those parts. One thing I am sure of, though, is that I love that bowling alley in his house at the end of the movie! *Spoiler Alert* It was so boss- I'd love to have one. Minus, of course, the dead evangelist oozing blood and brain matter all over the hardwood. Don't you know THAT can wreck a finish.

The trailers were quite intriguing. A few thoughts:

1. Is Keira Knightly some kind of celluloid vampire? I mean really. Does she not appear on film unless it is set prior to the Second World War and she is clad in costumes and reciting pithy dialogue? I know there was 'Domino', but since no one actually saw it I consider that film an urban legend. Good news for me, though. I don't do period pieces, and she annoys the crap out of me. So, win-win.

2. If 'In Bruges' is 75% as funny as it looks, I'll be happy. Which, of course, means it will be 25% as funny as it looks and I'll be 100% ill that I spent $11 and 2 hours on a hot mess of a movie.

3. I don't know if I can put into words how much I love Daniel Craig. I don't even remember the name of the movie he has coming out, but who cares. Not only did he single-handedly resurrect the James Bond franchise, he is a major fox. When he says, 'Bond, James Bond' at the end of 'Casino Royale', I get chills all over my body. Excuse me while I go watch 'Layer Cake' again.

Whatchoo Talkin' Bout, Shannon?

So the plot thickens in relation to the recently wed Gary Coleman and wife Shannon Price. Evidently, the relationship remains chaste, and Gary, sadly, is still the real-life 40-Year-Old Virgin. Also, their relationship is not without its drama...mainly Gary hurling projectiles at Shannon in fits of anger, which she reportedly takes exception to. Here's a thought, Shan...give him a little lovin' and he might RELAX and not throw computer equipment at your head! You didn't take my advice (see previous blog), married him, now you need to come through for the little man. I'm guessing he hasn't had any action since Gordon Jump had Arnold and Dudley take off their shirts and jump on the bed.

Valentine's Day Massacre

What is being massacred, you ask? Only my pride. I know I shouldn't hate on a day that is supposed to celebrate love. But what started out as a simple mercenary conspiracy amongst florists, candymakers and greeting card companies to make a little extra change has turned ugly in the hands of the women in this country. Now, it has two purposes: to make the male population feel terrible, and for women to one-up all their friends and co-workers. And, a fun side benefit is to lord it over all the single women out there. Last year, I was running an errand and some clerk who I didn't even know asked, 'what did you get for Valentine's?'. Me: 'Um, nothing. I'm single.' Her: 'Really? Too bad. You should really have gotten a date'. Bitch.

Seriously, what is this insane need to make other women feel insignificant and worthless? It is bad enough that I have spent the last 2 days ordering flowers for my mother, buying candy for one kid's class party plus gifts for his teachers, stuff for my kids, and making sure the oldest has proper arrangements to take his girlfriend to dinner. All so I can sit home alone. And, on top of things, NOT a good week for me, lovelife-wise. At all. Do you really have to twist the knife? Isn't this supposed to be a sweet gesture between you and your beloved, not a trophy proving you are better than me?

Anyway, Happy Valentine's to everyone in the spirit of retail. I'll choose to be happy to receive the 'gift of giving'. And, be careful out there...you don't know who you might bruise with your gloating.

Different Strokes Indeed

So, Gary Coleman finally got hitched! Coleman, 40, (years, not inches) married Shannon Price, 22, on a mountaintop after knowing her a grand total of 5 months. Evidently, the 18 year (and, presumably 18 inch) difference doesn't matter to either of the lovebirds. I guess I should have shown young Shannon my move. When a short guy hits on me, I simply raise my arm to my height like those nifty little signs at the amusement park and solemnly state, 'You must be this tall to ride this ride.'

Works every time, my friend.

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Wow. From prison to pups. No, not Michael Vick, that would be backwards. Patty Hearst, best known for being spending time in prison for robbing a bank with the terrorist group The Symbionese Liberation Army (who are these Symbions and why do they need liberating?) has won an award with her French Bulldog at the Westminster Dog Show. Never saw this one coming. The award is named The Best of Opposite Sex...definitely NOT an award she'd have won in the joint.

I'm convinced John Waters is behind this...it has to be a movie.

Off His Rocker

So, the steroids investigation has come to this...John Rocker is complaining that he failed a drug test in 2000 and DIDN'T get in trouble. So, he's whining because Bud Selig didn't punish him? Daddy issues anyone?

Being Simple

I've been Natasha'd again. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it is pretty obvious at this point that I am not what most men want in a partner. Maybe for a fun time, maybe for good conversation, even a romp, but not for a possible future. And, considering most men, that’s not a bad thing. But, this wasn’t most men…far from it.
In case you don’t know who Natasha is, she was a character on the HBO Series ‘Sex and the City’. She was the wife of Mr. Big, who was played by Chris Noth. After stringing Carrie Bradshaw along for years (Sarah Jessica Parker, wonderful in her breakout role and quite, um, interesting wardrobe choices), telling her he didn't want to marry again, basically putting her through hell (a glorious hell at times, but let’s stick to the subject), Big met and married Natasha in a whirlwind romance. Natasha was portrayed by Bridget Moynahan- a signature role for her. Nice enough, pretty enough, no obvious bad qualities, no obvious personality. Check out her character in the movie 'Serendipity'...same thing. A simple girl, as opposed to Kate Beckinsdale’s more complex character who connects with John Cusack on one magical evening. And simple definitely always seems the way to go- convenient, no fuss, easy, no messy passion to deal with. In our fast food society, that’s what we gravitate toward. So what if it isn't the best option. Even if it isn’t the best thing for you, isn't easy always better? And that's what Big told Carrie he wanted. That being with Carrie became too 'complicated'.
I felt Carrie's pain. I, too, am not a simple girl. While I am not a raging b**** like a lot of men prefer (yet another story), I don't see life and love as something akin to finding a good parking place (or a prom date, but again, another story)- 'hey, this one is close, has enough space, there is still a little time on the meter, and all my friends like it.' Never mind that you are going to constantly have to feed the meter or move your car to the other side of the street. This one is here! There is something to be said for choosing the spot that is further away, maybe a little harder to find, maybe a little more difficult to maneuver, but the parking is unlimited and the walk to your destination is so much of the fun. At least that’s what I tell myself at the Wal-Mart.
There is a song I love called 'Being Simple' by The Judybats. There are numerous reasons I love this song, but mainly it touches my soul like few other songs, and tells the story of said soul:
'Hearts cannot be broken, they're small squishy things
They don't break like glass, but they bruise easily
This one you bruise
Words will not be spoken, never knowing what they mean
Sticks and stones hurt my bones, your promises have broken me
Each one you break
CHORUS
And I want to be good, but good is being simple
Simple is forgetting
I simply can't forget
Eyes are always open, even when they sleep
Mine are mostly closed while yours are wandering
You look where you please
CHORUS
I want to be great but greatness is giving
Giving leaves me empty
Oh great emptiness
Souls cannot be taken, they're large and they're loud
Yours merely whispers lately; seems it's shrinkin'
I wish it would speak
CHORUS
I want to be great but greatness is giving
Giving leaves me empty
Oh great emptiness
I'm not simple. Like the song says, my soul is large and loud. I tried to be simple for years, just trying to make myself be happy with good enough, but I decided that life is something to be lived, not endured. Simple is beige. My life is painted in large, colorful fashion- love, laughter, fun, conversation, passion...all these elements are rendered in bold, broad strokes. This is not how I grew up, nor is it something that was given to me. But, it is who I am. The problem is, it's not always easy.
The last time I was Natasha'd, it wasn't even for a specific woman, just the Natasha prototype. A few came and went, and Bachelor #1 always came back to me. See, he couldn't 'figure me out'. Evidently, that is a problem...I have broad, diverse interests and can't be characterized, or put into a box. Even though he is a graduate of a very prestigous university and a successful international attorney, he constantly tells me I'm smarter than him. And I don't think he means it as a compliment. I don't care about social status, constantly redecorating, or jewelry. While I love looking good for my partner, I don't have to be the prettiest girl in the room. And, yes, I like a good foreign film as well as 'Saving Silverman'. I love sports, I don’t just pretend to watch while chasing a guy. I read. I have intelligent conversation, as well as completely inappopriate laughfests. While you would think these things would be a positive, they weren’t, necessarily. They weren’t simple. Even though every other area clicked for us, I couldn't give him the perfect partner he wanted that would fit in with all the other Stepford Wives and girlfriends. And he couldn't give me everything I needed emotionally because of that. Then, the other problems started coming up. You really watch MMA? Whoa. Next! He turned out to be the simple one. Because we were both missing something, we each had one foot constantly out the door and ended up hurting each other’s feelings, more than once. I finally ended it many, many months after I should have. But, it was easy to stay. We got along well- heck, we get along well now. But it wasn’t enough for either of us.
Bachelor #2 is harder to figure out. While I was on and off with Bachelor #1 for almost two years (and married for 13…don’t ever call me a quitter!), I haven't had nearly enough time with Bachelor #2. He is incredibly intelligent, with a beautiful mind that makes me weak in the knees. He has a razor-sharp sense of humor with the intellect to back it up. He makes me laugh, he engages me, he absolutely gives me butterflies that no 41-year-old woman is supposed to have. But I do, I get as giddy as a schoolgirl. I fell for his mind first, and then when we met, there was a blazing-hot passion. I didn’t think it was possible to connect with someone on every level like I did with Bachelor #2. And, he said he felt the same. All of the things that seemed to be an issue with Bachelor #1 were exactly the things Bachelor #2 said he loved about me. But, there were obstacles, distance and work. A trip was cancelled to preserve another person’s feelings, which devastated me. He asked me to wait, to be patient, and I did. He promised me he was committed to trying, even though the spectre of the other person loomed. That relationship is over, he said. And I was being ‘so cool’. While my mind was screaming at me to move on, something is wrong, I didn't, because my heart and my soul were whispering 'stay'.
The biggest problem with being non-simple (anti-simple? unsimple?) is that you are considered cool. Too cool. Therefore, you don’t have feelings. You don’t want to hurt the simple girls, they get their feelings hurt so easily. So, if anyone has to be left in the cold, guess who? You got it. It is bulls***. I feel. I feel deeply. I feel deeply and passionately. And right now, there is a literal, physical weight around my heart…I feel the bruises all the way to my soul.
So what happened while I was sitting home being ‘so cool’? You guessed it- Natasha’d again. For someone more convenient- the spectre who never left. Even though there is no passion, she's nice, cool, she cares for him and his friends like her. I don't know if she still has any change in the meter or has picked out her prom dress, but I digress. I can't change who I am. I can't be simple, and, unfortunately, I can't be convenient right now. I can’t play the friend card, I don’t know them. What I can be is full of life, love, laughter, fun and passion that I want to share with someone. And right now, that someone is Bachelor #2. I just don’t know that I’ll ever get the chance, or if I’ll ever see him again. Thus, the difficulty breathing.
I don’t know what the future brings, no one does. Is it completely over with Bachelor #2? Who knows. Can I be sure that Bachelor #2 and I would make it? Of course not. I’m actually a little terrified of getting married again, but I’d like to think I could someday. Or maybe horrify my family and live in sin with someone. I’d like to at least have a chance to have something real with someone who reaches me in the way I now know is possible. And maybe there isn't another soul out there that will talk back to mine, but I'll continue to have faith and listen. In time.
And, by the way, Mr. Big divorced Natasha because he grew tired of beige, and ended up with Carrie. John Cusack’s character left Bridget Moynahan’s for just the thought of Kate Beckinsdale. Two previous boyfriends have told me in the last few months they made a huge mistake in breaking up with me. And Bachelor #1 never gives up, bless his simple little heart.
I guess there is something to be said for a little color after all.

Three Hours of My Life...

I watched the Grammys in their entirety for the first time in probably 10 years. I think I'll wait another 10. Or 20. I don't know if you watched it or not, but some observations:

Carrie Underwood is really cute. And I know I'm not a guy, but putting her in hot pants and trying to make her sexy is like trying to do the same thing with a puppy. Doesn't work and should raise the eyebrows of the appropriate authorities.

Shouldn't there be some kind of time limit on Beatles' songs (remixes or otherwise) from being allowed to win Grammys? The soundtrack to 'Love' beat 'Once'? Why should anyone ever make original music again? And, this means we have to listen to Ringo try and pretend he was any kind of creative force. Ugh.

Andy Williams and Tony Bennett shouldn't have been forced to leave the home for this. The teleprompter is totally confusing them. Soooo uncomfortable. And I bet they are pissed they are missing tapioca night and 'Cocoon 2'.

Tina Turner is hot. And almost 70. I hate her. And so wish she would knock Beyonce off the stage.

I have an ongoing issue with CBS...have you seen their promos for their lineup? Almost everyone BUT 'How I Met Your Mother'. What? And why is no one else watching this show? What is wrong with you people?!?!?!?!?!?

I am officially horrified at modern country music. Brad Paisley is on stage, wearing more glitter than a drag queen at Pride, singing a song with the lyric 'I'd like to check you for ticks'. Oh. My. God.

Kanye West is immensely talented. Truly. And immensely insufferable. TRULY.

One of my favorite bloggers, J. Harvey at www.asocialiteslife.com just wrote something I wish I had- he wondered how many more sports Will Ferrell will make a movie spoofing. He can only hope the next is the biathalon...and there is an onset accident. Heh.

Vince Gill is officially my hero. Did you see? His award was presented by Ringo Starr and Dave Stewart, and he said, ' I just got presented an award by a Beatle. Can you say that, Kanye?' I...LOVE...HIM!!!

'Rhapsody in Blue' is totally boss. No snark here; it still enthralls me over 30 years after hearing it for the first time.

Just in time for Black History Month...Martin Lawrence, Raven, and Jackee' in a movie with eye-rolling, finger-snapping, and more uncomfortable cliches galore! What, Cuba Gooding, Jr. wasn't available? I know Dr. King would be proud.

Is that Jerry Lee Lewis or is this 'Weekend at Bernies 3D'? I'm seriously not sure he's even alive.

Little Richard. I won't say anything, because I don't want to offend African-Americans, gays, drag queens, wig-wearers, molestache-wearers or Porter Waggoner (who evidently posthumously donated his suit.)

And John Fogerty was performing with those two. Do you think he went home and cried?

Flight of the Conchords won Best Comedy Album! Now THAT was a speech I'd love to hear...Murray calling roll for the people he'd like to thank...'God? Is he present? Speak up!'

I have a new nightmare...the Monster.com commercial with the freaky looking guy with the enormous thighs. Won't sleep...thanks, Monster.com.

will.i.am is singing 'Mack the Knife'...stop...now he's doing some kind of rap nonsense about the awards...really, stop...STOP!!!!

Quincy Jones needs to join Andy and Tony at the home. Wait, no, I think he's just drunk.

The only way the ending sequence could have been any weirder (cast of 'Love') is if that freak from the Monster.com commercial came lumbering through.

Just saw on the local news...there will be a debate between state senatorial candidates soon at the Catfish Opry in Noxupater. I keep picturing fish singing on the wall like that singing bass. Yes, this is my home state.

You, Me and Jolie

I just read an article detailing the similarities between hottie Tom Brady and nottie Derek Jeter. (Those views are strictly the views of Bringing Foxy Back. It's my blog, so there.) Naturally, it made me think of the many similarities between myself and Angelina Jolie. Come on, admit it. You think about them all the time. Here goes:

Angie: Humanitarian and activist
Me: Human and active

Angie: The most talked about lips of her generation
Me: Even though I have the biggest lips of anyone I know outside of a Fat Albert cartoon, she still wins.

Angie: Infamously talked of having sex with Billy Bob Thornton in the limo before an awards show.
Me: Famously rode in a limo once. For Reals!

Angie: Loves body art. She has several tattoos, and sports even more in her next role as a heavily tattooed assassin in ‘Wanted’, soon to be seen by millions on the big screen.
Me: Got a temporary henna tattoo in Jackson Square in New Orleans once, and the process was filmed by a German tourist. My bare midriff has likely bored tens of friends and neighbors in Deutchland forced to watch his vacation videos.

Angie: Has a seemingly solid relationship with Brad Pitt- perenially hot, a great dad, and activist himself.
Me: I have a seemingly solid relationship with my TV remote. Even though I have been suspicious that someone else is pushing it's buttons lately. *Sob* Next, please.

Angie: Kicked butt as Lara Croft in the ‘Tomb Raider’ films, seen by millions.
Me: Kicked butt on the eliptical machine this morning, alone.

Angie: U.N. Ambassador
Me: Drank the UN-Cola once.

Angie: Long, beautiful, lustrous brunette locks.
Me: Hot new bangs. Checkmate, Anj.

Curses, Foiled Again!

Sen. Arlen Specter of Pennsylvania has taken on possible taping of opposing teams in the NFL, asking for a meeting with NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell to discuss his handling of 'Spygate'. Baseball players are currently testifying before Congress regarding possible steroid use. In the meantime, the country is engaged in an unwinnable war that is costing billions, a mortgage crisis has left millions in foreclosure while sending the country spiraling into recession, and residents of the Gulf Coast are still living in trailers over two years after Katrina. But, Americans can sleep soundly at night knowing that the evil Roger Clemens and Bill Belichick won't get away with their nefarious plans! Whew...thanks, Congress!

Good Knight, Bob

If the winningest college basketball coach in history resigned and it wasn't even the top sports story of the day, did it even happen? And does anyone care? Ah, relevancy is a tenuous thing, my friends.

Can We Just Hit Pause? Please?

Do you ever feel like life is in Blu-ray, but you are still Beta? I'm trying to slow down, but everything and everyone else is just whizzing on by. In high-def, even.

Oy. Can Episcopalians Say That?

Okay. You know how they say when one door closes, a window opens? Well, what if you aren't sure you want it to open? I decided to take a little break from Bachelor #2. So, I hear from someone today, an ex. And I guess, I'm going to have to give him the name of Bachelor #3, even though he was before Bachelor #1. Way too confusing. Anyway, I have dated lots and lots of guys my last few years of being single, and cared about 3. And they are all still in my life, in one way or another. Bachelor #3 broke. my. heart. I have to write it like that, because that's the way it felt. He was the first 'boyfriend' after my divorce. Why couldn't this have happened 4 years ago? But, somehow, somewa-ay, we have managed to stay friends, and he is my biggest fan. Hands down. He has now finally said, not beating around the bush, that he made a huge mistake letting me go, and would not do it again. I am floored. Now could be the perfect time to try again, but it took me so long to get over him. And, now, I'm actually afraid I would break HIS heart, because I really do want to be with Bachelor #2. Damn. So, what am I doing? Figuratively, barricading the open window. Literally, high-tailing my happy ass to Las Vegas and running away. 3 or 4 days of debauchery ought to clear my head.

I Hate to Toot My Own Horn, But 'Toot, Toot'

I hate to brag, but I'm having a really good hair day. That's 2 in a row...and for what? I refuse to kill my hair high with the cold, hard facts that I'm still alone, great hair or not.

The Butcher's Ball Will Never Be the Same

Sam the Butcher from 'The Brady Bunch' died. Sadness. But maybe Alice will finally find someone who will commit. Sam can now join Mike, Tiger, and Peter's dignity. RIP.

Can You Dig(ger) It?

Did you see Digger Phelps' getup on ESPN College Gameday today? Holy crap, who's his stylist? Michael Irvin? Figures the playmaker would find a way to stay relevant at the Worldwide Leader. I think Digger thinks he's way cooler than he really is since he starred in 'Love Letters' somewhere way Off Broadway. Like Queeens.

I Tawt I Taw...

Is it just me, or when you see John Clayton on the screen do you expect to see Sylvester lurking in the background?

Not Feeling So Foxy

I'm usually pretty philosophical about this being single (probably forever) thing, but lately the universe has been giving me some pretty dire signs.

1. The only situation semi-close to a relationship I'm in right now is, evidently, on indefinite hold while Bachelor #2 (more on the moniker later) decides where his life needs to head right now. A very valid reason, most definitely, but I can't help feeling that if I were to be included in his life when it is figured out, I'd be included now.

2. I am not a cat person. I have a dog. I don't have rodents. Yet lately, I have had cats hanging out at my house every day. We are up to 3 different cats making themselves at home. We don't talk to them, feed them, or in any way make them feel welcome. Yet, they are there. EVERY DAY. Do they smell over 40 and single? Terrifying.

3. At the barber shop yesterday (no, I wasn't getting my hair done 'high and tight'- I took my boys), I was chatting with a gal I graduated high school with. Long, long ago. She is in the Junior Auxillary (you have to say that with your teeth clenched, by the way) and selling tickets to the annual Charity Ball which is coming up soon. We talked kids, working out, recipes, you name it. She kept telling me how great I looked, like a model. Nice gal, good conversation. She tried to sell everyone in the place tickets...but me. I'm sure she didn't want to hurt my feelings about being single. And, obviously, assumed there is no one in sight. Depressing.

4. No one asks 'Are you dating anyone?' anymore. Or even, 'You're not dating anyone, are you?' It's more of a statement-' You're not dating anyone, are you.'

5. The last optimistic thing I was told was, after the announcement of a major automobile manufacturer planning a facility in the area, 'Maybe someone will move here you can date!'. Great. So, I'll have a date in 2011. No rush to shave my legs, I guess.

Oh, well. I guess, barring the 'settling' thing, this is the way it is right now. Maybe I'll feel a little better after hitting Vegas next week...at least I'm not on the pole.

Don't Go Into the Light, Jerry!

I'm totally fascinated with the latest celebrity couple dining companions...Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (or Tom and Kate Cruise, as he would prefer) and Jerry and Jessica Seinfeld. That Tom is totally out for world Scientology domination. Can you imagine the conversation over dinner?

Jerry: So, what's up with this evil warlord Xenu? He didn't want those people on his planet, so he drops them off here? What did he tell them...hey, everybody, get in the spaceship! We're going on a spa weekend! No, no. That's not a volcano. Don't worry. Seriously, it's a sauna...

Tom: Don't be glib, Jerry.

Jerry: Glib. Now there's a great word. You don't hear many people use it, unless they are totally self-important and/or think they are British. I can hear Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow telling the servants, 'Don't be glib, old chap.'

Tom: (Silently tries using his OT IV powers to launch an ashtray upside Jerry's head)

Jessica: How's your dinner, Katie?

Katie (coming out of her stupor): This steak is amazing! (slips back into aforementioned stupor, daydreaming of one day once again being allowed to go to the bathroom alone. She will soooo be out of the window.)

Jerry: Thetans. What a great concept. You do something wrong, you blame it on them. Sorry, judge, I didn't really steal that car. My thetan made me do it. Can Jewish people have one?

Tom: (Silently texting the Scientology headquarters. 'Mission Impossible')

And, the next day, Jessica takes credit for Jerry's jokes.

Speaking of Katie Holmes, she is looking (using her favorite word) amazingly chic these days. She looks great, for a 45 year old. Too bad she's only 29. She's totally channeling Gloria Vanderbilt, with the hair and big sunglasses. Wait, now I get it. Someone is trying to get Anderson Coopers attention...

Where's Spellcheck When You Need It?

I see the University of Tennessee hired an offensive coordinator named Clawson. Head Coach Phil Fulmer does realize it isn’t ‘Clausen’, doesn’t he? Someone might need to give him the 411.

What Gives?

From time to time, I will be publishing thoughts on my life. As a single mom trying to figure out what is in store for me relationship-wise, I've found putting my experiences on paper helps me work through them. So, go ahead, enjoy, judge, whatever makes you happy.

I try not to get discouraged over my life, especially when I have so much more than so many people. I am healthy, I have two absolutely beautiful children who are happy, healthy, well-adjusted and love me very much. I have a job I like, which pays pretty well and affords me so much flexibility and enables me to travel. I have very little debt. I have a few very good friends who I know love me for who I am, not what I can do for them. Which isn’t much, except be a friend the best way I know how- listen a lot, help when I can, and make them laugh as often as possible.

I can’t regret the choices I’ve made; some have been good, some have been not so good. (Yes, a major understatement.) But, overall, I think I have made the right choices for my children. And myself, to a point. I feel good, and I think I look pretty good for my advancing age. I can take care of myself and my kids, I own my own home, I get along with my ex-husband, and, most of all, my kids are well-behaved, secure, independent, and know they are loved. My family relationships aren’t perfect, but there is a peace in knowing you can only control so much, and I feel that peace.

But, especially as my kids get older, I have to wonder if I am purposely making choices that preclude a relationship. I know I have additional complications; my oldest son is a full-on teenager, and my youngest son has Down Syndrome. I know that isn’t an easy thing for anyone to digest. And, I live in a very small town. But, I also know that, because of my complications, I work twice as hard as most people on my relationships. Dealing with another person’s kids, disability or not, is never an easy task. Quite honestly, not one I’ve ever relished taking on for myself. What a hypocrite, huh?

I can be annoyingly independent at times, I know that. (I would say ‘fiercely independent’, but Tyra(nt) Banks has completely ruined the word ‘fierce’ for me. Now, it just means average-looking girls trying to out-Zoolander each other.) In turn, I think it makes me attracted to the confirmed-but-don’t-know-it-yet bachelor type. You know that guy- they say they want to be married, but they really like being single. And I, of course, seem to get along with them like a house on fire. So, what gives? Even though I'm not afraid of commitment, I know I’m a little (okay, a lot) afraid of marriage. I have one failed marriage under my belt, and don’t savor the thought of another one. But, on the other hand, you won’t find a more faithful, loving, generous girlfriend than me. I have references, trust. I just don’t necessarily want someone up in my kool-aid 24/7. So while I think I’m just looking for a kindred spririt, is it really self-sabatoge? Am I subconciously trying to stay single? Will I ever meet that kindred spirit that I’m looking for that does want a commitment?

I tend to look at the outward things in my life as reasons why I’m still single. Is it where I live? Definitely most of the problem. The dating pool is a desert. Is it what I do for a living? Probably part of the problem. I work around men all the time, but refuse to date in the industry for fear of looking like a slut. Is it my children? Maybe. Is it fair that, even though I have a lot going for me, through no fault of my own my number came up in the DNA lottery? No. Would I change my son at all? Absolutely not. He is my angel- he keeps us going.

So, again, the answer is…it must be me. Something inside, outside, I don’t know. But I guess if I really want things to change, I better find out. Why do I continue making these choices? They aren’t bad guys, just guys completely unable to commit. So, why am I attracted to them? Why are they attracted to me? I guess that’s the million dollar question. And, I might just give that amount to find the answer.

New Year, New Crowds at the Gym

New Year’s Resolutions continue at the gym. I applaud the effort, really. I'm all about health and fitness, I'm the one at the gym 5 days a week. I would just like to mention a couple of suggestions for attire to the newly inspired: Men, easy with the knit shorts. And if you must wear them, please wear the proper underpinnings or you will create a deeply unfortunate situation for the other gym-goers. And if you tuck your shirt in? Really, really unfortunate. Just stop, please. Synthetic fabrics are your friend. Ladies, congrats on your renewed dedication. But, first, get thee to a mall and buy yourself a jog bra. Stat. Not only will your girls thank you, but so will your significant other down the line. I may not be boobalicious, but thanks to Hanes, Jockey, Champion, et al, I do at least still pass the pencil test.

And, really, if you are seriously trying to lose weight, why are you driving around the gym parking lot looking for the CLOSEST SPACE TO THE FRONT DOOR? Is this the gym, or Wal-Mart? Wouldn't a couple of hundred extra feet actually help the cause? I'm just tring to help. Really.

Wherefore Art Thou, Tony Romo?

I have to chime in on this Tony Romo/Jessica Simpson thing. I’m not saying that Jessica Simpson is the cause of Tony Romo’s problems, but while Tony was enjoying Cabo with Jess, I keep picturing Eli getting shot down by Jersey girls in some mall in Paramus, then heading home to watch game film. Alone. I’m just saying. But, actually, I really don’t totally blame Jessica. I remember during the playoffs last year, the guy I was going out with was on business in Europe and asked me to email him with playoff updates. After the fumbled snap by Romo, I simply emailed, ‘I’m not sure a choke of this magnitude will translate’.

I'm Baaack. Of Course No One Knew I Was Gone

To encapsulate: Got deathly ill, recovered. Got heart mildly broken, recovered, started seeing person again. Went to Vegas, had a great Christmas, another great weekend at the Liberty Bowl with aforementioned person, went skiing, now home and in no-man's land with said person. But, I'm back. And it's sleeting outside. Gross.