That's DR. DB to You!

Do you know how I'm always whining about how I wish I was a rich girl (please refer to "If I Was a Rich Girl", by one of my heroes, Gwen Stefani; it perfectly captures my feelings)?  And you guys are all muttering all sorts of "Shut the eff ups" underneath your breaths (that's ok; I say it to myself, too)?

Well, it has finally dawned on me that I am on my way to becoming the next not-really-a-doctor-turned-talk-show-host.

It seems that my years as a hypochondriac (thanks, Mom!) have served me well.  In the past two weeks, I have correctly diagnosed three patients.

And when I say "patients", I mean other doctors' patients, not my own.

YET.

Anyway, one day at work, a woman was complaining about how her husband has fainted a few times, always after eating.  I said, "Has he ever been tested for hypoglycemia?"  She said no, but mentioned it to his doctor the following day at his appointment.  Lo and behold, her husband is hypoglycemic!

Next, someone else I know fainted.

When she came to, I asked her a very personal girl question.  She said that she had her monthly visitor and I said, "Oh, you're anemic.  No biggie.  Pop some iron pills and call me in the morning."

Guess what her doctor told her?  "Pop some iron pills and call me in the morning."

SCORE!

And finally, my biggest case: several weeks ago, on Twitter, Chris Daughtry's wife was Tweeting about how her new twins could not lie on their backs and always cried.

I Tweeted to her, "Have they been tested for acid reflux?  It sounds like they need some Baby Zantac!" 

And you know what that quasi-famous woman did?  She Tweeted BACK to me and said she had a suspicion that I was right!

Move over, Dr. Oz!  There's a new doc in town!

And it should only take me about fifty-seven years to get through medical school.

HOLLA!

Have a REAL Good Weekend!

Oh, these ladies made my night last night.  Happy Friday!

This Week's Journey of Self Discovery.

I learned a lot about myself this week, from dealing with the stress of cars, to almost drowning in my own snot.  But the most significant part that I learned occurred last night.  It all started out so simply...

I had dinner with several colleagues.  After inhaling my filet mignon, cooked medium rare (c'est magnifique!), I said goodbye to my friends and made my way over to Ye Olde Wal-mart, which was conveniently located next to the restaurant. 

Usually, I boycott Wal-marts and go to Target, but since it was 7:00 and getting close to bedtime, I decided to opt for the convenient location.

What was I looking for, you ask?

Pyrex glassware.  The fourteen-piece set.

HOLLA! 

Since I am now a responsible married woman, I priced the set at Target and it was gonna set me back thirty big ones.  After losing my way several times in Wal-Mart, I managed to locate the same set--and---wait for it--it was only twenty-two dollars!

Kudos to me for being a bargain shopper for the first time in my life!

So, there I was in my car, happily singing along to the radio and gently caressing my beloved new purchase.

As soon as I got home, I tore into the box, delighting in my new dishes.  I immediately threw out the plastic Gladware and put my shiny new dishes in the dishwasher.

And then I went upstairs and put my long johns on.

That's right, long johns.  Thermal underwear, if you will.

So, what was the biggest lesson I learned this week?

I am freakin' old.

When the heck did this happen?

I Should Come with a Warning Label.

Photo Courtesy of Gadgetrivia.com

So, I decided to take my aunt-in-law's advice.  I went to Walgreen's and spent twelve bucks on a Neti Pot, which basically looks like a plastic tea pot little kids have when they're little.  You mix some lukewarm water with a saline packet in the Neti Pot, and then you pour the contents into your right nostril, and then the solution, along with all of your sinus issues, is supposed to come out of your left nostril.

Key words?  Supposed to.

So, there I was feeling like some sort of mad scientist as I mixed my little nasal concoction.  I was a bit apprehensive and kept asking myself questions such as: "What if the stuff gets stuck in there and won't come out?"  and "Will all of the boogers and snot come shooting out my nose?"  and of course, since I'm five, "Wouldn't that be awesome??" 

I followed the fairly vague directions that came with the Neti Pot as best as I could.  I tipped my head to the side, and breathed out of my mouth.  The solution began to pour out of my other nostril...

...

...

until it started pouring into the back of my throat.  Suddenly, visions of inadvertently swallowing my boogers started dancing through my head, and the next thing I knew, I was gagging.

Like hardcore gagging.

And then I may or may not have actually thrown up a little in my mouth.

I did.  I did throw up in my mouth.

But then it gets just a little bit worse.  Suddenly, the saline/booger solution is not only spewing out of my mouth, but also out of the other nostril...and running all over my shirt to the point where the entire front of me was soaked. 

I think Walgreen's should amend their directions and tell people to just do this whilst showering in the morning.

And I think I'll just stick to tissues from now on.

Toolbox Tuesday.

Once upon a time, there was a not-so-handsome prince who was given a second chance at love. Instead, he was faced with twenty-five crazies. And so we begin today’s recap of last night’s Bachelor episode. I’d like to tell my brother-in-law to stop reading now, since this is a review of The Bachelor. I know he likes to watch it for himself and write his own commentary, so I’ll see you back here tomorrow, Focker.

This week’s episode opened up with Michelle discovering she had gotten a black eye overnight. She had no idea how she got it, but she was hoping it would score her a date with Brad. Having had similar moments of desperation in my single days, I know that Michelle was the one who punched herself in the face in order to gain some pity points with B-Love. Once the gals find out that Chantal has the first one-on-one date, Michelle pitches a secret fit, but she is consoled by the fact that since she and Chantal are the exact opposite of each other, she knows C will be sent home. Michelle is a very self-assured psycho.

Anyway, Brad takes Chantal away on a helicopter (of course he does; it wouldn’t be an episode of The Bachelor without one), and then they go scuba diving. Chantal was scared that she wouldn’t float, but she should have known that the silicone in her breasts would make great buoys for her righteous bod. She couldn’t believe she went scuba diving, but she “did it for him”. I’m sure it wasn’t the only time she went down on that date.

Yes, I did just say that.

Back at the psycho-bunny ranch, a bunch of girls find out that they suck and have to go on a group date. Michelle is ecstatic to find out she’s not on the group date, but she threatens to give Brad his own black eye if she doesn’t get a one-on-one date, which is further proof to my theory that she gave herself the black eye.

Then Brad surprises Chantal with a romantic beach dinner thing. Chantal is divorced, so Brad asked if she would want to be married again. Uh, Brad? Do you really think she’s gonna say no? So Chantal says all of the normal mumbo jumbo to Brad, and he agrees “truly”. Yawn. Then Chantal apologizes for slapping Brad in the first episode. They giggle with glee over it, and Brad admits he loves the playfulness between the two of them. Brad then gives her a rose, they make out, and Chantal does, in fact, go down for the second time that night (sorry, Mom!)…or perhaps I sat on the remote again and changed the channel to MTV’s Skins. IDK.

Back at Villa de Los Psychos, Michelle is bawling about how she’s being compared to Chantal. She admits she beat herself up in the middle of the night, and then complains of heartburn. I know that when I’m stressed, nothing makes me feel better than punching myself in the face and then doing shots of Pepto Bismol until I pass out, so I feel you, Michelle. I really do.

Brad surprises the gals with a group date to Dr. Drew’s radio show. Brad is hoping Dr. Drew will get the girls to open up and be honest. The girls are hiding in a soundproof room drinking booze (surprise!) whilst waiting for their moment to shine on the radio.

Five Tequila Sunrises apiece later, in come the girls. One girl admits she cheated on a boyfriend in college. Big deal. Then the dentist says she’s been holding back because of what Brad did the first time he was on the show. Then some blonde I’ve never seen before says she’s nervous and concerned to spend time with Brad because they never get any time together. She opens up her heart to him on national radio, and Brad begs her to give him the chance to spend some time with her. The look on Brad’s face when he’s talking to her tells me that he has never seen her before, either.

Next they go to Brad’s digs and get into their bikinis. Oddly enough, the girls are half naked, but Brad is in a hoodie and shorts. It doesn’t matter, though, because the girls snatch him up to talk and canoodle for several minutes each. It was SO romantic. Then the girls keep getting pissed at each other because they keep interrupting the one-one-one times. Frankly, they should be thanking each other, because this guy is just one big YAWN FEST.

Back in La La Land, Michelle finds out she gets her one-on-one date with Brad. Back in DB's bed, DB is fighting the Sandman, who is trying to bring her a dream. SNORE.

When the scene cuts back to Brad, he’s making out with the blonde no one has seen before. Dentist Ashley sneaks up on them and puts a stop to all of the shenanigans. Ashley has proven herself to be a psycho kitty, too, so this should be a good convo. She talks in circles for a bit, and Brad tries to follow. Ashley makes an ass of herself, so Brad decides to give her the date rose. BUT…BUT…Ashley throws a little fit and Brad changes his mind and gives it to the blonde with whom he sucked face literally ten minutes before. Ashley later admits that she is emotionally unstable. Um, girlfriend? That’s why you’re on this show. It’s a requirement. Michelle then tells the camera she’s sick of hearing about Ashley’s drama. Um, girlfriend? That’s all you’ve been giving us for the past three episodes.

Before Michelle’s date, Brad pulls Ashley aside to talk to her. Michelle gets pissed because it’s “her day”. Funny, I thought her day was a few weeks ago on her 30th birthday, but whatevs. Michelle and Chantal get into it, and suddenly, Chantal becomes my favorite because she knows just what buttons to push on Michelle’s tiny tush. Michelle vows that if she doesn’t get a rose on her date, she will elbow Dentist Ashley in the face. That would really suck for Ashley, because if she takes some teeth out, it could be bad for business. Sad face.

For the second time that evening, a helicopter comes to take the happy couple away. They end up on the roof of a building in LA. They will have to repel down the side of the building in order to get to their dinner spot. Michelle freaks out because she’s scared of heights. For a moment, I forgot that I was watching The Bachelor and thought I was watching an old episode of Fear Factor. Somehow, Michelle perseveres and they both repel down the building. Michelle called him “babe” about seven times, and then they pull a Jake and Vienna and kiss whilst hanging off the side of a building. So predictable. Then they jump in some random pool and make out for a bit. Brad exposes the tattoo on his back, and from my angle, it totally looked like it said “Polygamy.” Maybe they can pull a Sister Wives and Brad can choose several bachelorettes. Michelle, too, gets the date rose, and America cheers since there will be more crazy to come next week! Hurrah! They make out some more in the pool, and the rose gets wet. I hope that didn’t cause too much shrinkage.

The next day, Brad talks to his therapist. I zoned out for a bit and have no idea what they discussed, but I suppose it has something to do with how effed up it is that Brad is dating twenty girls at once.

The next night is the rose ceremony, but before Brad chooses his gals, he takes Emily on a mini-one-on-one date outside. How romantic. They sit on a blanket and talk. I’m sitting on my bed and wondering why I’m still watching this.

Finally! The rose ceremony! Chris B. Harrison comes on to present us with The Most Dramatic Rose Ceremony Ever, and Brad rambles on in his annoying accent for a bit.  Once again, I see faces I've never seen before during the rose ceremony, and I wipe the drool off the side of my face.  Towards the end, I do believe I started hallucinating a bit, or at least more than usual.

I'm sorry to say that there were absolutely no surprises during the rose ceremony, and none of the girls I'd never seen before were given a rose.  Alas, no shockers this week, but be sure to tune in next week for The Most Dramatic Blog Posting Ever.  For that week. 

This is Why I Choose to be Lazy.

While all other big celebrities are at Sundance, I decided I'd remain at home and have a nice, quiet weekend to myself.  Since Hubs was once again away on business, I thought I'd take the opportunity to get some things done that I've been neglecting.  So, on Saturday, I woke up bright and early to run errands.  First, I went to the post office, followed by a trip to the jewelry store to get my rings inspected and cleaned.  Charles Sparkly, my engagement ring, has never looked so good (Yes, I named my engagement ring.  Deal with it).  Then I dropped a book off at the library, and decided to just bite it and go to the grocery store so I wouldn't have to do it on Sunday. I loathe grocery shopping, and I usually drag Hubs with me when I can.

Since I was having such a productive day, I decided to do something about Hubs's truck, which keeps dying on us.  It's happened so often that I've basically become bffs with the lady at AAA, Michelle.  If I had known her years ago, I totally would have had her as a bridesmaid at my wedding.  Anyway, Michelle had all of the info, and a dude came to tow it away to the service place within half an hour, as promised.

Note to all of the ladies out there (and gents, really): get a AAA membership.  It's totally worth it!

This is where I'd like to take a break from describing the rest of my day so that I can describe myself in a little bit more detail.

Educators have a term for those students who cannot be successful without the constant prodding and yelling from their parents.  We call it "learned helplessness."  Basically, they were taught to be the helpless (and often hopeless) creatures they are today.

I suffer from learned helplessness, but not in an academic sense.

I suffer from learned helplessness in life.

I am a complete waste of space.

Why is this? 

Because my parents brought me up this way, obviously (sorry, Mom).

When I was little, my mom was the type of mom who would see me by an electrical outlet and freak the eff out.  Not only would she freak, but she'd then describe, in painstaking detail, how many volts of electricity would come shooting into my little body and kill me if I were to poke around that outlet.  How old was I the first time this happened?  I think probably three months.  She did it again when I was home for Christmas.

Then we have my father.  My dad's flaw when it comes to me is that he loves me a little TOO much.  Up until last year (when I was twenty-eight years old), my father would go to work late just so he could take me to school when the weather was bad.  Stop judging me.

So, there you go.  I have always solved my life problems by allowing others to solve them for me.  This has been extra easy because I'm a girl.  If I encountered issues and my parents weren't around to help, all I'd have to do is play the weepy girl card and someone was bound to help me.  Hey, it's worked this long, so why stop now?  Don't mess with a good thing, readers.

Ok, back to the story.  The tow guy came, and for whatev reason, decided he wanted to jump the truck.  Since it was all free, I was all, "Do whatever the eff you want, as long as I can go back inside where it's warm."  Before he left, he said he was going to keep the window rolled down.  I'm like, "Uh, whatever.  Can I PLEASE go in now?  My frappuccino is getting warm."  Off he went with Hubs's truck to take it to the service place.

An hour later, the service place called to say that they were working on the truck, and that they couldn't get the window rolled back up, so they were going to look at that, too.  Since I was exhausted from being so productive, the guy had interrupted my three-hour nap, so I was like, "Just do what you have to do and let me go back to sleeping, ok, dude?"  He agreed that I sounded grumpy and tired and we said goodbye.

About another hour later, he called me back, saying they could not getting the window back up.  He was so blase about the whole thing, but I started to panic.  "OMFG, Hubs is going to effing kill me!  The window won't roll up?  WTF?  WTF?  WTF?"  He said he was going to call around to some window places and see if they could help me out.

So what did I do? 

What any normal 29-year-old woman would do, of course: I called my parents who live thousands of miles away and started bawling and blubbering.  My father made a few cooing sounds at me and told me everything was going to be ok.  I got sick of hearing that, though, so I told him I had to go.  I called the service place back and the dude gave me another dude's number.  I called Dude #2, and he said he couldn't fit me in until Wednesday.

So, Hubs' window would be down for four days.  Awesome. 

This is when I threw a temper tantrum.  As I lay there on the floor, kicking and screaming, I realized what a waste of energy it was since there was no one there to show off to.  I quickly got up, composed myself, and began the first of many frantic e-mails to Hubs.  I then e-mailed his mom, although I'm really not sure why.

So then the service dudes called to say the truck was done and they'd swing by to pick me up.  A young guy picked me up, and I entertained him for the entirety of the drive back by cracking all of these jokes, even though my heart was dying inside.

$200 later, the truck was "fixed" (although I'm not convinced of this quite yet).

I got in and was just like, "Ok, I'm just gonna try to roll the window up."

And wouldn't you know?  THE FREAKING THING GOES UP!!!  SUCCESS!

So, not only am I awesome, but apparently I'm also magical.  Sweet!

The truck is now happily back where he belongs, but let me tell you, I think I am scarred for life.

This just reminds me why I allow other people to do my dirty work for me.

What did I do for the rest of my night?

I locked myself in the bedroom, watched the first season of Ally McBeal, and made whimpering noises every now and again for the rest of the night.

Next Saturday, I'm not even going to bother to get out of bed.

A Little Friday Lovin'.

This clip is mostly for all of my international readers who do not get to watch this little treasure every week.



'Nuff said.

Whatcha Reading?

I have been a reading machine lately.  So, because of that (and because I totally want to know what good books are out there that I should read), I thought it'd be cool if you could post recommendations for all of us.  Just give the title, the author, and maybe a brief description.

Here's my contribution:

Water for Elephants, by Sarah Gruen.  OMG, this book was so engrossing that it only took me a day to read.  It's about this guy who joins the circus as a vet after his parents die in a horrible accident.  He falls in love with the leading lady of the circus, and her husband, his boss, is a complete d.b.  There is also an elephant in it, Rosie, and I fell in love with her, too.  Anyway, this description sucks, but just do yourselves a favor and read it, ok?

Your turn.

Go.

Suri You Can't be Serious.

If you've been reading my blog for awhile, you probably know about the longstanding feud I have with my archnemesis, Suri Cruise.

And by feud, I mean completely one-sided and totally inappropriate since a. Suri doesn't even know I exist, and b. Suri is like four years old. 

I was tempted to bring up the different posts where I mention my dislike of the spawn of Tom Cruise, but I got distracted...by the pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream calling my name from the freezer.

God, it was good.

Anyway, you'll have to look back on previous posts to see all of the insults I've thrown in the tiny tot's direction.

Blah blah blah, Suri Cruise and I don't like each other.  Big deal.  Some people have asked me what my beef was with young Suri, and I guess it really stems from hating her mother's character on Dawson's Creek.  Isn't that so pathetic?  But week after week, I'd watch little Joey Potter on the screen and wonder why all of her clothes seemed to come straight out of my closet.  Joey was supposed to be poor, and yet she was sporting the latest styles from American Eagle.  I didn't get it.  And her voice was always so hideously cutsie.  I used to throw up a little in my mouth every time she'd start the baby talk with Dawson.  Give me a break, Joey!  So, obviously, Katie Holmes must be the same way in real life, because in my world, there is no line of distinction between reality and fiction.  Case in point?  Keri Russell.  Keri Russell is not Keri Russell.  No, she is Felicty and always will be.  PS--I miss you, Felicity!  Come back! 

So having an annoying mother didn't help Suri's situation, and neither did her father's maniacal behavior on Oprah.  She is the product of a baby-talker and a crazy, so therefore, I do not like her.

I realize I have the maturity of a nine-year-old, and no, I don't care.

Anyway, my resentment toward this toddler came on full force the other day when US Weekly tweeted something about Suri and Mommy picking out Jimmy Choos together.

To which I responded something like, "Barf, barf, barf, barf, barf.  This is ridiculous." 

So what is my punishment for feeling ill will toward everyone's favorite four-year-old? 

The fact that I am now being followed by SuriCruiseNwz on Twitter. 

Awesome.

The Bachelor: It's Baaaaack!

I don't know if I'm mentally and physically prepared to blog about The Bachelor once again, but what the hay?  I'm gonna give it a try.  For those of you who don't know, this year's Bachelor was the Bachelor a few years back, Brad Womack.  Brad was the only Bachelor who's ever had any sense: he ended up dumping both girls in The Most Dramatic Rose ceremony ever. 

Ok, so last week's epsiode bored me to sleep.  I ended up waking up at 11:30 with drool rolling down my face, and the remote control stuck halfway up my butt.  So not only was it boring, but it was also painful to butt...I mean boot.

That being said, I really can't tell you anything about last week, other than there is a vampire on the show.  Her name is Madison, she's twelve, and she actually has vampire incisors.  I, too, once had vampire incisors, which is why my parents took me to seek orthodontic treatment.  Because of this, though, I feel like Madison and I are kindred spirits or something.

This week, Brad got to give a few roses before the rose ceremony.  First, he had a one-on-one date with Ashley, a dentist from Philadelphia.  Ashley is cute, which is partly why I hate her.  The other reason I hate her is because SHE'S SO F-ING ANNOYING!

Ahem.  Sorry.

Brad takes her away in his (ABC's) car, and they start to go into a deep, dark forest.  Ashely fake squeals in fake terror, which is where my ire for her started.  Um, Ashley?  You are in a car with TELEVISION CAMERAS!  While I'm sure Brad will get to cop a feel with you later, I highly doubt he's taking you into the woods to kill you, you flaming moron.

I should have been a dentist.

So, he takes her out to the woods, they pull down a lever, and all of a sudden, they are in the middle of a carnival!  Hooray!  Brad makes a comment about how giggly and smiley Ashley is.  I would love Rick to talk to Brad because I'm quite certain he'd tell him that even I was giggly and smiley for the first few days.  Just give her time, Brad.  Give her time. 

They then start to make out and I had to check the channel to make sure I was watching ABC and not freaking Cinemax.  They confess their undying love for each other, and then they decide to take a ride on the ferris wheel.  I can't be certain, but I suspect ole Ash gave Brad a very special hand job whilst they were on the wheel.

Needless to say, Ashley got a rose.

Of course she did, that floozy.

Next, Brad took fifteen girls on a very intimate date.  You can really get to know someone when fifteen other people are around, so that's cool.  As I commented on Twitter, I once went on a date with sixteen people: it was called my PROM!  Anyway, this chick Michelle was livid because it was her 30th birthday and this is not how she was expecting to spend it.  Well, girlfriend, I guess you should've paid closer to your datebook when you signed up for this show, huh?  Ill planning on your part.

So, Michelle pouts the entire time while the other girls and Brad are participating in this very bizarre PSA for the Red Cross.  If I wasn't lazy, I'd Google it so I could post it for you guys.  Alas.

Her plan works, however, when she runs out and Brad comes tumbling after.  She tells him she feels a connection with him, that she wouldn't be there if she didn't, and Brad professes the same.  Pretty heavy conversation to have after having only been in the same room with each other for fifteen minutes, surrounded by a thousand other people.  Hmmm.  Interesting.

Brad decides to give the birthday girl a rose, and she proceeds to perform mouth love on it, and then flaunt it in front of the other girls.  That bish is lucky this bish wasn't there, because I totally would've opened up a twelve-pack of Whoop Ass on her.

Yes, I just said Whoop Ass.  This is my blog, deal with it.

Then Brad chose to take the artist from New York on a one-on-one date.  I think her name is Jackie, but honestly I can't remember.  I was too busy wondering if this girl was actually of age, because she seriously looks like she could be sixteen.  Wouldn't it be a travesty if Brad unknowingly made out with a minor?  He'd better hope she's at least eighteen, because they did kiss, but just a little.  The whole date was pretty awkward, to be honest.  They went to this hotel, got into robes, but this girl is no Vienna; they just got ready for a romantic evening.  Brad showed her to a room that was filled with gowns and told her to pick one.  He later said he didn't know if she could tear her wall down, and she said he could, so he gave her the rose.  Then Train came out and sang a few off-key songs. 

This was very surprsing to me since I thought Train had actually made a pretty good comeback last year, what with "Soul Sister" and all.  This economy certainly has affected us all, huh?  Tough times, my friends, tough times.

Anyway, then there was the night of the rose ceremony.  Michelle, Birthday Girl, demanded he spend some quiet time with her, and she pulled him away to ask him about what sort of coffee bean he preferred.  Michelle is a Grade A biotch, the type of girl I hated in college. 

Two other girls started fighting at the rose ceremony, and it was pretty awesome.  Melissa, the waitress who quit her job and told us so every five seconds, is a total psycho.  Because of this, she has my heart.  Please keep her on for a few more eps, Brad.  Please. 

She ran to Brad and confessed she was being "targeted" in the house.  She cried, they hugged, and all of the girls ran out to spy on them.  I would've been pushing those wenches out of the way to get a better view if I had been there.  Melissa then confessed that she had onion pizza for dinner and apologized for her breath.  Brad looked like he was trying very hard to channel that woo-hoo he received from Ashley on the ferris wheel a few nights back.

Then Rachael goes over to tell Brad her side of the story.  She, too, is crying.  They hug it out, and then Chris B. Harrison comes out and tells the girls he wants to address something: who is here for the right reasons.  That's when Ali and Roberto walk in.  HOW DUMB.

I am so sick of them.

BTW, Ali was wearing a REALLY unflattering dress.  Oy. 

They were there to make sure Brad chose the right girls.  How appropriate, since they don't even know Brad, and you learn so much about a person in a fifteen-second conversation. 

They met with all of the girls and then talked to Brad about their "gut feelings".  I will admit that Ali and Roberto look adorable together. 

Then Brad takes Emily, the widow, out to talk to him.  He gives her a rose, and America smiles.  This girl is classy, beautiful, and so adorably sweet.  I love her so much.  Brad doesn't know that she has a child, though, so she'll probably be dumped in a few weeks.  The part where she was talking to her daughter on the phone and they were both crying...OMG, I was sobbing.

Chris B. Harrison comes in to announce it's time for Brad to make his picks.  Three girls ended up going home: Rachael, Melissa, and some girl I've never seen before in my life. 

I was very disappointed that the two feuding gals were kicked to the curb, but I'm really hoping that Michelle and others will step up to the plate and hit some homers for us.

Until next week...

The Post Where I Outwit Fate.

Resolutions.  They're tricky little bastards, aren't they?  Every year I make several resolutions, and by the end of January, they're usually forgotten, much like Justin Guarini or Bo Bice after they came in second on American Idol (is anyone else eagerly awaiting this season??  EEK!). 

Most years, I also find that somehow, no matter what I resolve to do, the opposite usually happens.

Since that's the case, I've finally smartened up a little and have decided to resolve to do the opposite of what I'd like to do. Without further ado, I am happy and excited to present to you Daydream Believer's Resolutions, 2011 Edition.

Ahem.

1.  Suck at life.  This includes, but is not limited to: belching in public, forgetting to shower for days at a time, being incredibly rude to other living things, particularly puppies and babies, and to cut people off when driving. 

2.  Be a terrible wife, daughter, sister, and aunt.  I will be mean to each and every family member (Yeah, I know what my sister's thinking: but you already are!  That's the point, Sis, so suck it!).  Ooh, I actually AM good at that one!

3.  Gain twenty pounds.  I would love to have even bigger Oprah arms, and my thighs are FAR too thin for my liking!  Let's fatten them up, shall we?

4.  Take really crappy care of my house, and continue to not know how to do things such as sew buttons back on clothing, properly iron my wardrobe, and put off doing laundry until I'm out of clean underwear. 

5.  Spend all of my money on material things, such as Burberry scarves, Coach bags, and Uggs. 

And there you have it, folks: my 2011 resolutions in no particular order.  I'll be sure to update you on them every so often.

So, what were your resolutions?  Have you broken them yet?

Have a Look.

Blogging is a wonderful thing.  Not only is it fun, but it's also a great way to meet people all over the world.  My new friend, Anna, is new to the blogging world.  She is a young woman who aspires to be a writer, and I think she's pretty darn good.  Please head on over to her blog and become a follower.  She'd love to have feedback!  Thanks!

http://helloworld-awall.blogspot.com/

PS--Back to blogging on Monday.  Sorry for the sudden hiatus!