Perhaps Human Leashes Aren't So Bad After All.

Yesterday, I was perusing the shelves at my local library, when I noticed a lady about my age pulling her toddler daughter around on a leash.

Back in the day, before I was in my childbearing years, I thought these leashes were inhumane and abusive.  But now that I'm in prime baby-making age, I realize that I will be the type of mother who will do whatever it takes to make my child behave in public.  If that means putting it on a leash at the library, then so be it.  If the only thing that will make it not scream is ice cream, I will give it an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia.  "Have at it, baby.  Just eat your ice cream quietly and look cute." Whatever will make my baby look like it's well-behaved, I will do.

Anyway, I digress.

So there was this baby on a leash, and her mom was dragging her all over the library.  I guess the leash did its part because the baby certainly did not want to be in the same place as her mother.  She was seriously lunging and flying about, hoping to break free of the chain around her back (which was in the shape of a cute monkey, I might add).  Her mom was all, "Now, now, baby, let's stay by Mama."  And that's when the baby started to shriek.  Not only was she shrieking, but she would also accompany said shrieks with hysterical laughing.

Seriously, I think this baby was possessed.

I loved her.

As I was about to leave, the baby made a lunge for my ankles.  I looked down, and I swear, she was pleading with her eyes for me to take her with me.  It was like we were kindred spirits or something.

You guys?  I'm pretty sure I saw my future yesterday.

I am almost certain that I, too, will someday have a baby on a leash.

Do you think they come in cool colors?  Because while I'm pretty sure my baby will be bad and rebellious, I'm also sure he or she will be very fashion-forward and will want a neon green or maybe hot pink leash to strap across his or her back.

Anyone?

In the Land of WTF (Revisited).

Hello, friends!  I had some really bizarre things happen to me last week, so I thought I'd re-post this oldie.  It's one of my favorites.  I love you, Sky Mall.

Last week, I was flying the friendly skies.  Bored, I began to flip through the pages of the Sky Mall magazine that every airline seems to have.  As I turned each page, my giggles turned into shrill peals of laughter, so much so that a passenger several rows in front of me asked for the title of the book I was reading since it was obviously quite entertaining.  I was like, "It's the Late Spring 2010 edition of Sky Mall, ma'am.  I suggest you take a free copy; the airline will replace it!" and then walked away.

Ok, the above conversation did not really happen.

But it could have.

Have you ever looked through these magazines?  The little treasures found inside are not only ridiculously overpriced, but they are also just plain ridiculous.

And mama like ridiculous.

I thought I would share with you a few of my faves from the 'zine.

First up is the Face Trainer.  What, exactly, you are training your face for is beyond me, but apparently if you wear this for sixty days, your face will have 71% less saggy skin.  You can also become a boxer, too, from the looks of the mask.  If they come out with one in hot pink, I'll probably consider purchasing it.  What?  Pink makes everything cuter.  You'd better act fast, though, folks!  The Face Trainer has a limited time offer of $149.  Get it now before sales sky rocket!

Next we have the SkyRest, which is available for $29.95--a real bargain!  I love the little tagline for this gem: "This person is able to sleep comfortably in any seat!  Can you say the same?"  No, I cannot say the same, because I'm the sucker who got stuck next to this person and having his face in my grill is making me completely freaked out and uncomfortable (not to mention that sucker is HUGE and pretty much takes up all three seats in the row).  Seriously, if the person next to me started blowing this thing up, I would demand a seat change (something in first class, preferably).

Sure, I'd buy this "Zombie of Montclaire Moors" garden statue for the low price of $89.95...if there was someone in my family I wanted to give a heart attack.  This thing scared me when I turned the page; I can only imagine the effect it would have in real life.

Nothing says "Keep your dirty hands off of my meat" quite like these barbecue branders.  I would buy these for $79.95 (add ten bucks and they'll throw in a cedar box to house them in) if and only if I knew someone with the initials A.S.S.

My new goal in life is to actually witness someone owning and using the pet seat.  This is actually a two-part purchase: the seat is $109.95, and then the harness will cost you another $69.95.  If you truly love me your dog, you will get this and send pictures to me protect your little one. 

  Too sane cheap to buy the above pet seat?  Fine, why don't you settle for the less popular doggie travel case?  It can be yours for only $119.95.  Now, please allow me to get on my soapbox for a minute: it's ridiculous inventions like this that give our beautiful country a bad name.  We're all overweight, and now we have suitcases that enable our dogs to become overweight, lazy victims of our society.  Unless your dog is physically unable to walk, this is not something to invest in.  Put down the Twinkie, Fido, and demand that Mommy and Daddy take you outside for an actual walk!

Two questions come to mind whenever I see a dog: "Who's your daddy?" and "Are you a Smith or a Jones?"  And now, for the first time ever, my questions can be answered with the Canine Genealogy Kit.  This DNA test is only $59.95.  Don't let your doggie grow up without knowing who his biological parents are!  Get one of these kits TODAY!

If only Carrie would have had this Telekinetic Obstacle Course to hone her skills, perhaps she could have done something to prevent the pig's blood from being dropped on her at the prom.  Coulda, shoulda, woulda, Stephen King.  By the way, this costs $99.95.  I love wasting investing my money on telekinetic devices, don't you?

Future conversation between Hubs and DB:

Hubs: OW!  I have such a headache!  Got any Advil?

DB: Darling, don't be so archaic!  We have something so much better than over-the-counter pain relievers!  We have the Head Spa Massager!  Don't you remember when we got really drunk on grain alcohol and blew our entire savings account on this piece of art?  It only cost us $49.95!

Hubs: You are right, my love.  Here, let me put it on.  Not only does it relieve my headache almost immediately,  but I also look like a real tool really cool.

DB: That you do, love.  That you do.

And finally...perhaps my most favorite piece from the Land of WTF...THE ONLY UNDERWATER POGO STICK!!  And do you cool cats know WHY this is the ONLY underwater pogo stick?  You guessed it--because rarely anyone pogos on land anymore, let alone in their swimming pools!  Hey, but for $59.95, you can start the next new trend. 

Thus concludes our travels into the Land of WTF.  I hope you've enjoyed your stay here.  Please come again, any time.  And be sure to bring your credit card!

Milestones.

You guys, I reached a milestone the other day.  A BIG ONE.  HUGE.

I have reached 10,000 Tweets.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!!

It means I need to get off the couch, put down the bonbons, and go out and LIVE.

As if.

Follow me, won't you?!

;-)

Another Letter to My Husband.

Dear Love of My Life,

Your love completes me.  When you are gone, I am not whole.  You are the wind beneath my wings.

Ok, so you know the other night when I asked to borrow the two dollars off of the table in order to pay my library fines (shut up, people!  I'm an intellectual!  Even if it was two books in the Gossip Girl series)?  And being the awesome husband you are, you told me that I could have it?

Well, I just wanted to say thank you and I love you.

Thank you and I love you.

Um, but there's something else.

When I got back, you were getting ready for hockey.  I was going to go get a pedicure, and since I knew you'd be gone, I was also going to get a hot fudge sundae from McDonald's and then hide the evidence before you returned.

But as you know, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry...blah, blah, blah...

Ok, so I took the other two dollars that was lying on the table.  And then I bought a hot fudge sundae from McDonald's with it.

But then the nails place was closed and I came home, sundae in hand, to find you still standing in the kitchen.

But before you get mad that your own wife, your soul mate, the love of your life, stole what could very be the last two dollars you had, please remember how willingly I shared my sundae with you.  Or at least the two bites I allowed you to have.

Ok, that's all.

I love you, and I'm sorry I stole from you.  I'd like to say that I won't do it again, but...I'm trying to turn over a new "honesty is the best policy" leaf, so....

Yeah.

Love,

Your doting, loving, awesome wife

Anonymity Sucks.

I've always hated anonymous things.  Anonymous tips, anonymous love letters...they all suck.  Just tell me who you are, people.

Then last year, I had an identity scare and had to go all anonymous on the blog.  It sucks!  The other day, one of my BFFs left a comment and I had to not publish it because she put my name in it.  And it was a really funny comment, too!  Boo!

And then when I talk smack about the people I love (namely my mom, sis, bro-in-law, and husband), I have to use code names.

And you know what?  I am neither smart nor sober enough to remember who's who.  I mean, I'm guessing "Hubs" is my husband, but really, who the eff knows with me?  Sometimes I confuse him with my mom.

Just kidding.  That would be disgusting.

Anyway, being anonymous has also made me oodles more reserved and conservative when it comes to blogging about particular subjects.  I freaking hate that, too.  I've never been one to hold back when it comes to my thoughts, so I feel like I've come to a crossroads on the ole bloggeroo.

Should I just say, "screw it" and come out of the blogging closet (again), or is that a door that should remain closed for awhile?

Dazed and Confused,

Anonymous

A Week Late and $250,000 Short.

So I finally watched the final episode of Bachelor Pad in its entirety.  Hubs was at hockey, I had finished all of my prep work for school, and the laundry was drying...so I figured why the hell not?

Honestly, I wish I had stayed up to watch it last week.  There were so many luscious Jake-Vienna-Kasey moments!

At one point, Kasey kind of stuck up for Jake, and it was just like the scene from Rumpulstiltsken when the princess finally guesses the dude's name and then he falls through the floor from having a fit and jumping up and down...yeah, that was all in Vienna's eyes.  It was awesome.

Also, the crowd went wild for Jake, as they should.  He made Vienna look like an idiot.

Ok, not that that's hard to do or anything.

Also, Blake revealed that he and Holly are now engaged.  ABC just happened to have the engagement video--what a coincidence!  Honestly, had that been anyone other than Holly, I would've been happy for them.  But you know what?  She was JUST ENGAGED.  And now she's engaged AGAIN (twice in one year!  Not too shabby), and to someone she just met.

Go get a nose job, Holly.  I'm done with you.

After watching the little "Why I Should Win" segment, I really wish Michelle and Graham had won.  I'm not gonna lie--it's just because their clothes were better.

This is the last post about this hideous show...at least until next season.


Were you guys happy with the winners?  Why or why not?

PS: Did anyone else notice Ella's new nose?  Yeah, she really went on this show for her son...

What Is It About Brad Pitt?

My husband and I like to watch television in bed before we fall asleep.  I know, I know--every research study every conducted says that this is a terrible thing to do, but believe me, I've done worse in bed.

Anyhoodle.

The other night, we were having a conversation about...something.  For the life of me, I can't remember.  It was probably something completely dumb, because we're...well, dumb like that, but who knows?  Perhaps we were sharing our thoughts and fears on the future, I don't effing know.

I was in the middle of what was surely a very profound, thought-provoking sentence when I heard that voice.

The voice of an angel on Earth.

Brad Freaking Pitt.

What is it about that man?

I mean, I was totally turned off by the whole grunge look he's been going for ever since he hooked up with that Ho-Dog-Who-Mustn't-Be-Named, but have you guys seen the preview for his new movie?  I'm not even sure of the name--Money Ball?  Maybe?  I don't know; it's about baseball and a cleaned-up Brad Pitt is in it.  Really, does there need to be a plot?

So, I stared and drooled at the screen for a bit, and when the preview was over, Hubs was all, "Ok, what were you saying?"  And I was all, "Huh?  Brad Pitt.  What?"  And then he was like, "Oh, that's nice.  Are you going to keep rubbing this in my face, or are you going to tell me what you were saying."

I spat and sputtered.

I stammered.  I hmmmmed and ummmmmed.

And still, I had nothing.  I had absolutely no idea what I was about to say, and it was all because of this man:

You're welcome.

PS: Brad, I know you're reading this.  Please, please continue to shower and shave, ok?  xoxo

You Know You're Married When...

...you ask your husband what the empty package of cured meat was doing in the upstairs bathroom, and he answers that he was eating it whilst waiting for his bath to fill...

...and you don't find the absurdity in this entire conversation until hours later.

Bachelor Pad: The Freaking Long Finale.

I'm not gonna lie, friends. I found out that Bachelor Pad was three hours long and I laughed in Chris B. Harrison's face. And by "face", I mean his Twitter account since we aren't friends IRL. Thank goodness.

Ok, so I didn't watch, and honestly, I feel smarter for it. You know how that study just came out that concluded Sponge Bob is making your kids stupid? Yeah, Sponge Bob? Meet Vienna.

What I can tell you is that I did see a small segment where the contestants were hanging in the air. They had to do some kind of dance on a 100-foot wall whilst suspended in the air. They whined, they threw up, Kasey claimed he was "smart, witty, and spiritual" or some crap, and then they were judged by Ali, Jason Mesnick, and everyone's favorite fame whore, Trista. Man, that lady is milking this for all it's worth!

I don't know who won that competition, but everyone was wowed by Vienna and Kasey. Yawn.

In the end, Michael and Holly won the big bucks. I'm feeling pretty ambivalent about this. I don't effing care, really, but I really can't stand Holly. If Trista is a fame whore, then Holly is just a whore.

And thus ends my commentary on this year's edition of Bachelor Pad 2.

Amen.

Viva Las Vegas!

Several weeks ago, the hubs took me to Vegas in order to bring in my thirties.  Honestly, I think he did it because he knew I was going to be cranky about turning 30 and wanted to cushion the blow it would most surely have on him.

Regardless of his motives, I got a really kick-butt end-o'-summer paaaar-tay.

And I was a happy girl.

Which means I had a happy husband.

We left for Vegas on a Friday evening.  The best part of the flight?  It was a little over one hour!  We landed in Vegas with plenty of time to party like rock stars.

We checked into our room at the Bellagio.  We were both expecting the room to be sub-par, but it was AMAZING.  It was huge and awesome!  I would live in that room if I could!

Since we were starving, we decided to head on over to the Mirage to nosh at the Carnegie Deli.  I was quite excited that there was a Carnegie Deli in Vegas because it's one of my go-to spots when I'm in the best city in the universe, NYC.

So, we ate, and then...

...we walked back to our hotel room and went to bed.

We figured there was time to party it up the next night.

The best part about our room?  You could make it completely dark in there.  This sucker was like a cave.

And mama slept well.

The next morning, we woke up and decided to get some quality pool time in.

A word to the wise: if you want to feel fat and ugly, hang by a pool in Vegas.

Pretty soon, you will be staring at the cellulite on your thighs, wishing and willing it away.

And the foreign woman next to you who has a giant wedgie-thong bikini will make you want to throw your yummy, calorie-infested strawberry daiquiri at her.

And then you'll apologize profusely and claim it "slipped" out of your hands.

And then you'll laugh menacingly into your towel.

Hehehe.

Biotch.

For dinner, we went to a restaurant that my husband is completely obsessed with, AquaNox.  Honestly?  I think it's overpriced and just ok.  They have a limited menu, and everything is a la carte.  I think that's bogus.  At least the hubbaroo enjoyed himself, though.

Then after dinner...

...we decided to go to bed early.  After all, we still had two crazy nights to party and LIVE IT UP, YO!!!!

The next morning, we had to wake up early because we had decided to do something very special on the trip.

We decided to get married...

...BY ELVIS!!!!!

It was truly the most awesome ceremony ever.  I wore a comfy white dress that I had scored at Target for twelve dollars, and my husband wore a fancy tuxedo t-shirt with shorts and sneakers.  He looked very dapper, if I do say so myself.

We renewed our vows at the same chapel where many celebrities were married, including Bon Jovi and even Chuckie and Bride of Chuckie!!  Surely, these are both good omens that our marriage will last forever.

Elvis walked me down the aisle to meet my groom, all whilst singing "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You".  It was all so hysterical that I found myself laughing throughout the vow exchange.

Oopsies.

After we said our vows, Elvis sang "Viva Las Vegas" to us.  We joined in, and then the three of us skipped down the aisle.

I seriously don't think there was ever another instance where so much awesomeness was in one place at the same time.

We then what any newlyweds in Vegas would do: we took a trip to In-N-Out Burger!

We thought it was appropriate to go to such a place on our wedding night because we were In-N-Out virgins.

Truthfully, it wasn't the best burger I'd ever had.  I mean, it was good, but...I thought my first time would be something much greater than what I got.

Gee, that sounds familiar.

Hehehe.

Once we were back at home, which is how I lovingly refer to the Bellagio--"home--we finally did some gambling.  I managed to win $200 on a Sex and the City slot machine (SO fun!!), and the hubs won some cash on a few baseball games.

We celebrated by going to a nice dinner at an Italian restaurant at the Venitian.

A little word about this little ray of sunshine, the Venetian: if you have the means, I highly suggest you stay here.  We found ourselves walking there quite a few times--so much so that we decided by the end of the trip that we should've just bitten it and stayed there.  Oh well.  We will just have to go back and remedy this.

After dinner, we were so full and so exhausted that...

we decided to go back to our room and go to bed.

Besides, we were waking up super early to visit the Hoover Dam the next morning, which is exactly what we did.

OMFG, the Hoover Dam.  Do yourselves a favor and just do the online tour.  Don't do what we did, which was virtually waste our last day in Vegas by spending four offing hours at a DAM.

I mean, it was cool and all, but it seriously should take you about twenty minutes to see everything.  Instead, we were forced to listen to a crazy-ass bus driver talk about the meaning of his last name, then going on several tours whilst at the dam.

Um, Hoover Dam?  I really don't effing care about the effing goings-on of this damn dam.

The best part?  Seeing my husband earn his "I Ate a Dam Dog!" sticker after eating a foot-long wiener.

Oh, the bus ride home was pretty sucky, too, but I won't bore you with those details.

Anyway, once we got back, we knew we needed to make the most of our last night in Vegas.  We did some more gambling, I lost a hundred dollars in about two minutes, and then we went to Emeril Lagassi's restaurant in the Palazzo.  It was a sports bar, and honestly?  Emeril would be enraged if he knew how poorly run this place is.  Also, the food is sub-par.  Emeril, get out while you can, boyfriend.

After that, we were again exhausted so we went to bed.  I mean, we managed to do a lot during the day, and since we're married and old, I really don't see why we even had to party it up until all hours of the evening.

I will say this, however: my Vegas vacation was the best trip I've ever been on.  And just like everyone needs to go to Disney World at least once in his or her lifetime, one must also take a trip to Sin City.  You won't be sorry!

You know, unless you wake up married to a virtual stranger, lose all of your money, and steal Mike Tyson's tiger.

Ten Years.

Today is the tenth anniversary of the attacks on America.  My heart and thoughts are with the victims, their families, and our servicemen and women who have continuously risked their lives to keep our nation safe.  God Bless America.

Tool of the Week: Exercise Edition.

After my workout the other day, I had no doubt about who would win the coveted Tool of the Week this week.

The Precor machine is a real asshole.  The my whole running workout was getting to be a bit of a snorefest, so I decided to jazz things up a bit.  Besides, my Oprah arms are out of control, and I knew the Precor was a good way to work the jiggle out of one's arms.

So, I chose to do the Precor for forty-five minutes.  I was just going to do a regular workout, but they had some cool workout options, so I began perusing.  When I saw the fat burning option, I figured it'd be a great way to tone AND burn calories, so I chose it.

And then I was put through forty-five minutes of hell.  When I finally got to resistance 12, I'm pretty sure my screams were reminiscent of a woman in the midst of birthing her child.  I was screaming, swearing, begging for Kevorkian (RIP, Jack), or anyone, to take this pain away.

Yes, I'm being melodramatic, but you know what?  As I sit here, I wonder if I somehow managed to strain my uterus in this workout, because dammit, the pain is that deep and intense.

It hurts to walk.  It hurts to breathe.  It hurts to pee.

I think I'll stick to running.

On Turning 30.

Last week, I celebrated my thirtieth birthday.  This was the first milestone birthday where I wasn't ecstatically excited to be turning that number.  I remember turning five and saying, "I'm a whole hand today!"  When I woke up to 30, I looked at my hands and said, "I'm six whole hands."

Six whole hands.  Oy.

Thirty, to me, means I am officially no longer a child.  I can no longer hide behind my age as the reason why I do something stupid.

I was reckless in my twenties: with others' hearts and my own, and I have my regrets.  Still, I did those things because I was stupid, naive, young.

And now when I slip up, when I make some stupid mistake, what will my excuse be?

When I was younger, I always envisioned what my life would be like at thirty.  I figured I'd have some high-profile job, live in New York City, and maybe even be married with children.

In many ways, the important ones, my life is better.  My job may not be high-profile, but I feel I'm making a contribution to the betterment of this world by teaching.

And how can I be anything but grateful that I get to share this life with a truly amazing person?

I am grateful.  I am very grateful.

But I still can't help but want a little bit more.  What "more" entails, I do not know, but I definitely have some goals I'd like to accomplish before I turn...shudder...forty.

I want to get healthy.  For too long, I've eaten bad foods, imbibed too many vodka and tonics, read too many books whilst sitting on the couch for hours at a time.  Now, I can't afford to live that way.  I'm thirty, not twenty.  Let's face it: my metabolism wasn't that great in my twenties, and it's certainly not going to get better with age.

I want to continue to travel and see the world.  There is no better way to learn new things than to visit different and interesting places.

I would like to finish my book and find someone, anyone, to publish it.

I want to explore a different career, one that I can forget about when I go home at night.

I want to go back to school to pursue a PhD or a second graduate degree.

Mostly,  though, I just want to hang out with my husband and family as much as I possibly can.  It's hard being so far away from our family, and while I know it's temporary, it'll still be nice to be able to move closer to home one day soon.

How do you feel about milestone birthdays?  Do they make you happy?  Sad?  Nervous?

Eli Rose.

Before I begin today's post, I would just like to say that the thoughts expressed here are my own.  I was not compensated in any way for this post.

Are you a blogger who's tired of not getting any new followers?  Who's not sure you're blogging "right"?

If you answered yes to one or both of these questions, then you need to check out Eli Rose, a social media consulting company for small businesses, Etsy, and bloggers.

For just $25, this company gave me easy instructions on how I could revamp my blog.  They encouraged me with the things I'm doing right, and they pointed out many things I could add to make it even better.  Not only that, but they wrote up all of these suggestions in an easy-to-read document.  I began making my changes right away!

After they give you their blog assessment, they ask you to fill out a simple survey about your blog.  Basically, they want to know what your vision for your blog is.  After you answer, they give you a report based on your answers.  This report helps to guide you in the direction you want you and your blog to go.

Seriously, I cannot thank the women at Eli Rose enough.  They are an awesome, supportive, and affordable company who are really there for the "little guys" (read: me).

The best part?  They had my blog assessment done the day after our agreement!  They are crazy-fast!

If you are a blogger or a small business owner, contact Eli Rose today.  You won't be sorry!

Bachelor Pad: When Does it End?

Last night was another intellectually stimulating episode of Bachelor Pad.  Fortunately for me, I was driving in the car for the first hour, so I only had to suffer through half of it.

I can only surmise what happened in that first hour, but I'm certain there were slutty, drunken moments.  Erica apparently won the challenge, and she gave Blake immunity.  I still haven't seen last week's episode, but my trusted sources have told me that William and Melissa the crackhead got voted off last week.  That makes me sad because Melissa is such cray-cray and was fine entertainment.

Anyway, back to Erica and Blake.  I'm certain Blake was all set to party now that Melissa is out of the house and can only stalk him from afar, but another psycho-stalker has entered the scene: Erica.  Now, I'm not sure if it's too much Botox or too much vodka, but this girl is always a bit off-kilter.  Blake is probably wondering why the crazies all love him.  I'm wondering why any woman would love him.  He's such a slimy chameleon.

Stupid Holly, who is also a slut who's after Blake, is jeal-jeal that Erica gets to be on top of Blake for the date, so she decides to prance around the kitchen whilst Blake and Erica are waiting for the limo to pick them up.  I really hate Holly.  Like, more than I hate everyone else on this show.  Which is a lot.

So Erica and Blake go on some date to a castle.  It's pretty boring and Blake looks like he's in constant pain.  You see, Blake just wants an immunity rose.  He does not actually have feelings for Erica, but he's willing to DO anything in order to stay at the STD-infested house.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Michael is telling Holly once again that he's in love with her and that they should be together.  Ok, Michael...you're sweet and stuff, but this is getting PATHETIC.  Holly, once again, brushes him off.  Yawn.

Back at the castle, Princess Erica is basically dry humping Blake at the dinner table.  Her hand disappears several times.  Blake is trying like hell to get back to that house, but Erica tells him that they need to "bond" as partners.  Blake says too much bonding is a bad thing.  Erica says she brought some very sexy lingerie.  Blake says, "My goodness."

I say, "I can't believe I watch this shit."

Erica gets super pissed at Blake because he refuses to sleep with her.  She's like, "If I had any idea you were a Gemini, I would've thought differently of you."  She also admitted to talking to ghosts.

Anyway, Erica and Blake were actually not safe this week; however, they were given two roses to give to the couple they wanted to save.

For some ungodly reason, they gave it to Kasey and Vienna, who proceeded to make out at the pool.  This show is so effing rigged by the producers.

Ella freaks the eff out and tells the cameras how much she doesn't want to go home.  Then she says she needs the money because she's raising a nine-year-old son by herself.

Um, Ella?  You need to be home with your nine-year-old son.  You also need to be working. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Michelle and Graham decide they are going to vote off Erica and Blake because Ella and Kirk/Kurt have earned the right to be here.  Who knew that Michelle Money had a heart?  I almost like her now.  That will change as soon as she says Graham's name again.

The camera then goes to Holly, who is in the bathroom writing in her diary.  I shit you not.  She's crying because she's the deciding vote: should she kick off her friends or her new undercover lover?

I must say that few decisions on this show have surprised me, but Holly actually did the right thing and kept the single mom and the poor dude.  Erica and Blake are voted off the island, and Erica is convinced that Holly did it because she was so distraught over Blake's and Erica's date.

I must apologize for the lack of zeal in this post.  Next week is the season finale, and I'm happy.  This show has succeeded in sucking out the majority of the working cells in my brain.  I am no longer able to make these posts even remotely entertaining.  Lo siento, mis amigos.

Gracias.

Apparently Divas Run in My Family.

Last week, I received this disturbing e-mail from my sister.

Ok you want to hear how prissy your niece is?   A few  examples: 1.  I think this is already known.  I can't just leave her out to do her business.  She'll sit on the deck all day and stare at me through the window.   I have to actually walk off the deck and stand in the yard for her to poop or pee! 2.  While we were on vacation Jeff left the air conditioning on in the truck for her while we were in a restaurant eating dinner b/c she isn't used to heat. 3.  Her dog bed isn't good enough,  she takes 3 of our throw pillows on the couch and makes a nest to lie on all day.  Needless to say,  my head never touches those pillows anymore. 4.  Recently I realize that every morning she was walking around the perimeter of our yard when I took her out to do her business…I wondered why and then it hit me…….you know why?  Because the dew on the grass gets her feet wet!!!  The outline of the yard has either no grass or very little.  She will walk around the entire yard until the urge to go #1 or #2 is so strong she has no choice but to venture in the wet grass.  As soon as she is done she goes back to the outside of the grass and makes her way back to the deck! You guys, meet my niece, Lucy.   Yeah, that's right.  I'm a diva.  Deal with it.

Tool of the Week.

I had yet another tough time choosing this week's TotW, but mostly because I was in Vegas (holla!) and chillaxing. I've decided to make this week's TotW a collection of people: the Kardashians. Those biotches grew up in the lap of luxury and have never had to do any real work in their lives. Since this is the life I'm so desperate to lead but cannot afford it, they get the coveted TotW crown.

At least I'm smarter than they are.

I hope.

TGIF, peeps!

Where I've Been.

Once again, I've managed to disappear, but this time it's not my fault.

I swear!

Well, I guess it's kinda my fault.

So, here's what happened....

*Cue weird dream music...*

It all started last Thursday night.  I had gotten home late from work, and I was running around and packing for my ultra-cool thirtieth birthday present from my husband: a trip to Vegas!!  WOOT!!

I was walking on air!!  In fact, I felt so good that I decided to blog!  HOORAY!!

So I wrote Friday's blog post, and then I started to do a few things for school, and then I started surfing the 'net for some good buys....

And then I actually got back to posting.

Which is when my computer crashed and burned.

It made some weird noise, all of my icons dis-afreaking-ppeared, and I melted into a little puddle of saline on the floor.

No, I do not have fake boobs, and I realize that's how that sounded.  I meant saline tears.  And since I'm too lazy to just delete this whole section, it says.  Believe me, if my boobs were fake, I would've sued the plastic surgeon for malpractice because these suckers (no pun intended?) are not ready for their close-up, Mr. Deville.

Ok, I'm getting back on track now.

So, the computer died, I screamed for fifteen minutes, and then my husband tried to retrieve my system or some shiz.

I was actually pretty calm until I realized THE FREAKING BOOK THAT I HAD HALF-WRITTEN WAS TRAPPED ON MY DEAD COMPUTER AND I WAS AN IDIOT WHO HADN'T BACKED UP HER FILES.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure Suri Cruise broke into my house, set tons of viruses on my computer, and then brainwashed me so that I wouldn't remember to back up my files.

She's wicked, you know.

Anyway, this is the part in the story when I flung myself on the floor, curled up into the fetal position, sucked my thumb, and continued to bawl my eyes out.

You know the noise that a newborn puppy makes?

I was doing some of that, too.

The system retrieval thingy was taken forever, so Hubs said we should just call it a night and hope for the best.  I didn't want to leave my baby alone, but I begrudgingly agreed.

As soon as I was out the door the next morning, I was at the desk to see if the retrieval thingy had worked.

It had not worked.

The icons, however, were temporarily back, and somehow, Hubs found my password-protected book.  I punched in the code, and....

Nothing effing happened.

For a long time.

And then Word opened, and there was my beautiful baby.

YAY!!

Except I couldn't edit it or save it, so I was forced to just print it.  It is now safely in my bag, and it's all set to be typed and saved on various disks, drives, cds, scans, etc. etc. etc.

So, after that debacle, I went on vacation to Vegas.

It was SUPERB and I'll blog about it on Monday.

Now I'm back and better than ever.

And Hubs?  He bought me a new MacBook AND an iPad.

BECAUSE HE'S AWESOME.