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Boobies, Horny Dogs and Patrick Swazye (And, No, None of These Things Have Anything To Do With Each Other). Just Another Random Tuesday


Lazy Blogger

I haven’t written much lately. It’s not that I don’t have stories to tell, things to say or rants to make. I have plenty to say, I just don’t haven the energy to focus and write. Which stinks because it’s a good way for me to relieve stress and blow off some steam.

But I’m so tired. I’m worn down. I feel like hibernating—and it’s only mid-September. I feel so lazy that the simplest, most basic tasks seem exhausting. I did a few loads of laundry Sunday afternoon and it sucked every bit of life out of me. I don’t think it’s the seasonal change—I am so happy that it’s starting to cool off a bit and I can break out some sweaters and my beloved boots—I think life is catching up to me. I had a vacation (that I still haven’t written about. What’s the statue of limitations for that?), my birthday, my anniversary, dog shows and work. Plus, all the little stuff that adds up to long and busy days. I hope whatever this is stops and life gets back to normal.

Mondays are for Mammograms

If you’re feeling particularly sadistic, make sure your schedule your mammogram the week you have your period. I had my first mammogram at 35. Since I’m adopted and don’t have a medical history, they wanted to establish a baseline to check against. Now that I’m 40, I guess I have to do this every year. I had my appointment yesterday—the day before my period started. I made my appointment months ago and didn’t realize I scheduled it when I was going to be on vacation, so I pushed it a couple of weeks without really paying attention to the calendar.

It takes the pain and magnifies it a million times. It’s bad enough the tech has to grab what little boobage I have and wrestle it into this machine to smash it into a pancake, when they’re already sore and swollen (I apologize to my male readers for the visual!) it’s like having vice grip attached to your tatas while someone cranks it tighter and tighter until tears spring from your eyes, your boob feels like it’s burning and you’re just about to cry “Uncle!” when the machine mercifully released your bruised and battered boobie. Repeatedly. (Bill’s thinking, “Shit, she’s never going to let me near THOSE again!”)

“Bitch in Heat!”

I went to my first dog show a couple of years ago. When I got Gracie, they told me I was required to show the little diva, and although it sounded fun and I watched the Westminster Dog Show on TV, I had never actually BEEN to one. So I begged and bribed asked Lesley to come with me, and we drove to the middle of nowhere (or close to it) to meet Gracie’s handler (who also owns Gracie’s Baby Daddy) at a dog show. I realized quickly that it was not going to be as easy (or as inexpensive) as promised, but I was willing to give it the old college try.

A couple of weeks before Gracie started showing. I met Gracie’s handler again at another show so I could see what this was really going to entail. I wanted to talk to her about how I needed to groom Gracie beforehand. I also wanted to watch everything from how they get the dogs ready to go into the ring, to how the judges look them over, to how people behave (Did you know that Rottweiler owners are big into clapping and cheering for every single dog while Samoyed owners think it’s not appropriate to applaud until the very end? File that under Weird Shit You Never Wanted To Know.)

Bitch in Heat!

Bitch in Heat!

So the Sammys are getting ready to show, and Gracie’s handler has me walk one of the male dogs to the ring for her. As I’m taking this dog over, a woman is dashing through the crowd with her German Shepherd, sees the obviously male dog I’m walking and starts bellowing, “Bitch in Heat! Bitch in Heat!” At first I wasn’t sure if she was talking about herself or her dog. But I realized she thought the boy at the end of my leash was ready to break free and start humping her little bitch. I was stunned. I looked around to see if anyone else thought this was strange, but no one blinked an eye.

Gracie has a show this weekend and she’s in heat. If we’re lucky, this will be her last one (show, not monthly visitor). She only has two more points before she becomes CHAMPION Gracie, so I think I’m going to go out with a bang (pun intended). I’m going to bring a bunch of bodyguards to surround my precious baby to make sure no rouge dogs knock her up. And I’m going to walk her through the crowds and announce “Bitch in Heat!” With a bullhorn.

Maybe that should be my new tagline?

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

Although it’s not unexpected, I’m still sad that Patrick Swayze passed away yesterday. Dirty Dancing is one of my all-time favorite movies. I love those Saturday afternoons when I don’t have anything to do and find it on TV. I will stop and watch. Every. Single. Time.

One of the best movie lines ever...

One of the best movie lines ever...

For more random reading today, check out Keely at the UnMom.


Random Friday Thoughts

I know—it just doesn’t have the same ring to it as Random Tuesday Thoughts, but I’m three days behind and I have a bunch of randomness rattling around. So sue me. Besides, Bill, who has apparently assumed the role of my manager/mom was reminding me that I haven’t written and if I don’t post soon you’re all going to stop coming over here. At which point I suggested he start his own damn blog. But I digress…


Monday night I got the chance to go to the premiere of Julie & Julia, which opens next Friday (August 7). It was awesome. A couple of weeks ago I wrote about reading My Life in France, the biography of Julia Child’s years, um, well, in France. Her story is so fascinating to me as I approach decrepitude, because she really didn’t find her niche until she was almost 40. The parallel story in Julie & Julia is the story of Julie Powell, who spends a year cooking every recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking while blogging about it. No small feat. The movie could have been a recipe for disaster (ahem), but Nora Ephron, who wrote and directed it, really did an amazing job blending the lives of these two women who never met.

And really—anything with Meryl Streep just rocks.

Side note: In Los Angeles, it’s not uncommon to run into “celebrities” (I put that in quotes because I couldn’t give a shit about the likes of Speidi), but every now and then you have the exceptional luck to see someone really worth seeing. The other night I had a great spot along side the red carpet and at one point was less than five feet away from Merle Streep. I might have swooned.

Special screening of Julie & Julia, Mann Village Theatre, Westwood, California

Picture by: Russ Einhorn / Splash News


I’m a little pissed off at Nissan right now.

Last September I bought a brand-new 2008 350Z convertible. Otherwise known around our house as my Midlife Crisis. It goes Vrooom. It’s fast, it’s pretty, I can feel the breeze blowing through my hair, and it’s the perfect antidote to a shitty day at work. I leave the office, put the top down, blast the stereo and instantly feel transported out of the stress and drama.

However…I do have a couple minor problems with the car. The more minor issue is that the reflector on the front driver side has cracked and broken. It’s totally gone. And the car isn’t even a year old. For the amount of money we’ve spent on that car, shit shouldn’t be breaking off.

The bigger problem is a pain in the ass. Nissan is known (apparently to everyone but me) for having faulty motors for their windows. At some point they start to give out and you can’t close the window. It started a couple of months ago, and it didn’t really worry me too much until they failed at the car wash.

I pulled up to pay and grab my ticket, and when I tried to roll up the window, it went up and then went down about half way. I hit the switch again and it went up and then opened halfway again. I did this about a half dozen times until it seemed to stay up. Until I drove into the car wash. And it rolled itself down again. I had to hit the switch quickly and hold it until I was through the wash.

I did some research and it turns out this is common. The most common solution offered is to not roll down your window. Um, yeah. Not going to work for me. Especially because if you put the top up or down, the windows automatically go down.

Nissan says they’ll replace the motor but that’s a faulty solution, too. Because if you haven’t actually fixed the problem in all of the motors, I’m just going to have to go back in and replace it all over again. But the really insidious thing is, most of the time they don’t actually replace the damn thing anyway. The mechanics reset it.

So Nissan. You’re on notice. Fix your window motors and stop screwing your customers over. I can’t imagine in this economy that they can afford to lose any business.


Tomorrow night I’m going to a soccer game. It’s the Los Angeles Galaxy (with the hot but obnoxious David Beckham) versus FC Barcelona. I’m a little scared because Bill said soccer is a little crazy (like throwing cups of pee kind of crazy). I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

Crap I Shouldn’t Care About But Totally Do

There’s a lot going on in the world. We’re going through the confirmation process for a new Supreme Court judge. A Hispanic female no less. There are two female American journalists imprisoned in a hard-labor camp in North Korea. The war in Iraq is still going, unemployment is at an all-time high (and President Obama announced yesterday that it will continue to go up), the stock market is still in flux and there have been 1,000 killings so far this year in the Mexican border town Ciudad Juarez.

These are all important events and I do care about them. But there are other things I care deeply about, too. I know I shouldn’t but I just can’t help myself.

So here’s my list of crap in no particular order that I shouldn’t care about but totally do:

1. Jessica Simpson and Tony Romo. Apparently they’ve broken up. The day before her 29th birthday. Which is rude. But not the first time she’s been dumped right before or on her birthday. Didn’t John Mayer do the same thing to her? I guess it’s clear that she chooses selfish men who can’t hang in there a day or two before cutting all ties. But what’s more interesting to me is that she had a Barbie & Ken–themed birthday party planned for herself before the breakup. Barbie and Ken? That’s an awful lot of pressure to live up to.

Jessica Simpson & Tony Romo in happier times

Jessica Simpson & Tony Romo in happier times

2. Jon Gosselin. He’s clearly going through some midlife crisis. But after being married to Kate, he’s obviously choosing really young (and fairly stupid girls—I deliberately didn’t say “women”) to date because he can be The Man in the relationship. They’re young, impressionable and easily wowed by a guy like that. A guy who basically walked away from his family so he could party.

I love the fact that his 22-year-old girlfriend Hailey Glassman is upset because she’s been the victim of bad press.What did she expect. She’s basically a child dating a man who’s going through a very public divorce. He has eight kids. Eight. She’s not remotely equipped to handle that. If I were Kate Gosselin there would be no fucking way I’d let that chick, who was arrested for drug possession and has been photographed drunk off her ass—in fact, photographed ass up in a potted plant—near those kids. “U.S. press is all over stories about her being some slutty party girl with a history of arrests,” a source tells Us Magazine of Hailey. “She was upset tonight.” Seriously?

Plus, as bitchy and domineering as Kate was, I’m starting to think there was a reason for that. She had nine kids—not eight.

Jon and Hayley Glassman

A douche on the loose

3. The Real Housewives. So Hot-lanta is gearing up to start season 2 this month, and there’s all kinds of drama over the New York cast holding out for more money. And they’ve introduced the new Housewife in the O.C. Plus? They’re casting in D.C. and Las Vegas? Ohmygawd, I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Yo! Atlanta in the house!

Yo! Atlanta in the house!

4. Michael Jackson’s Daughter. After seeing her at her father’s memorial service, I have the feeling we haven’t seen the last of her. She seems extremely precocious and definitely isn’t afraid of the camera. Her comments about loving her dad and him being the best father ever were heart-breaking and genuine. But when she was sitting in the front row during the service, she seemed to like the camera and she was totally into performing  when they were onstage singing “We Are the World.” It may not be a bad thing but I hope to God she doesn’t get sucked into the same machine that chewed up Michael Jackson and spit him out. I hope whoever ends up with custody keeps her safe, protected and away from the spotlight as long as possible.

5. Bridget Jones. There’s going to be a third movie? This one is going to be about her trying to have a baby. If it’s half as good as the first one, I’m so in.

Diary of Bridget Jones

Diary of Bridget Jones

6. Bret Michaels. Will there be another Rock of Love? I hope so. Mostly because it’s good entertainment but also because I can’t believe he’d end up with that skank Taya.


More Rock of Love, please

Guilty Pleasures

1. Sitting at the bar alone in a restaurant with a good book, a nice dinner, a shot of tequila and maybe even dessert.

2. Reading Entertainment Weekly and Us Weekly in a hot bubble bath.

3. Fudgesicles

4. My morning sugar-free vanilla latte.

5. Watching really crappy reality TV.

6. A perfectly dirty Belvedere martini

7. Driving home from work with the top down and the stereo blasting.

8. A big dollop of whipped cream in a cup of coffee.

9. Fresh, clean sheets on the bed. With multiple pillows stacked on top.

10. Multiple pairs of my favorite jeans.

11. Sleeping in on a Sunday morning.

12. Opening a brand-new book.

13. Bacon. With just about anything.

14. Tacos and beer on a weekend afternoon.

15. A matinee movie on a Sunday afternoon.

Random Musing

Has anyone noticed that Susan Lucci dances on “Dancing With the Stars” like Baby did early on in “Dirty Dancing” before she hooked up with Johnny Castle? No? Trust me. Awkward. Very uncomfortable to watch.


Susan, you’ve “had the time of your life,” but “hey, baby,” it’s time you’re “like the wind.”

Please tell me you get these references.

Ram this…

I can’t believe I just sat through a whole hour of Rambo. I wanted to stop watching after about 15 minutes but I was too horrified to move. I mean, it’s like that car accident you can’t look away from even thought it’s gory and disturbing. Thank god I only paid $3.99 on Pay-Per-View because if I walked out of the theater after spending $15 I’d be pissed.

My husband and stepson thought it would be a cool movie —and evidently it is to them because they’re still watching. I’m not a prude or ridiculously squeamish about sex or violence in movies but never have I seen so much gratuitous violence. Even for a Rambo movie it was pretty excessive. I can’t believe this only got an R rating.

It’s an hour of my life that will haunt me forever.