And that's why you don't tattoo a guy's name on the back of your neck.

You know, when I told my sisters that I watch Rock of Love, they looked at me with disbelief and pity. Melis recovered her voice enough to spout, “You watch that?” She was clearly appalled. But you know what? Now that my not-so-secret shame has come to an end, I regret nothing. Where else can you see the awesome pink-haired girl walk away with it all, while the nasty I’d-rather-let-the-man-I-“love”-go-into-insulin-shock-than-cut-short-my-dunebuggy-ride stripper takes off in a trail of hairspray and profanity, wondering how she can get this ill-concieved tattoo removed? Sure the show was trashy, but we all need a little trashy in our lives.

Also, I’m not entirely convinced Heather wasn’t a bit of tranny.

I’ve been waiting for that fake accent to come back into my life…

Hey Alias fans, are you all aware that David “Julian Sark” Anders is on Heroes right now? Even better, he’s playing a snarky British man. That’s right. The accent is back! When I saw his name in the credits, I squealed so loudly they heard it in Richland.

Is it too much to hope that he becomes a regular character and goes fabulously evil?

There's a reason William Shatner's face wigs me out

So, I was in Gallina’s yesterday, waiting to pick up my lunch (Buffalo chicken salad, extra Buffalo sauce), when suddenly the theme music from John Carpenter’s classic horror film Halloween filled my ears. I recoiled and started looking around me like a schizophrenic who is hearing voices for the first time since she went off her meds. I was searching for the source of the music and wondering if I was just imagining it. It turns out that the final jump into the abyss of insanity that I have been anticipating for so long had not come at last. It was just the cell phone ringtone of some sicko two tables away. As I tried to recover my composure, the old man next to me in the takeout line regarded me with caution while he mentally mapped out his exit strategy.

You may recall that this is not the first time I’ve been startled by a Halloween theme music ringtone. A few years ago I was browsing in a small bookshop in Greenwich Village when that ringtone sounded, causing me to drop my book and hastily exit the store. This was in daylight, people. That music is so frightening, so disturbing, so inherently wrong that I cannot maintain any sort of self-possession in its presence. Please, for the love of decency, Americans, STOP choosing that theme song for your ringtone! Choose something more cheerful, like the Jaws theme or Tubular Bells.

Ding dong, the witch... well, you get the idea.

At last, our long national nightmare is over. Lacey has finally been ejected from the Rock of Love house, unfortunately without the Prozac-fueled meltdown I so eagerly awaited. That was a shame. I have decided to comfort myself by imagining her limo ride home, complete with screaming, tears, vodka, and unintelligible blather.

And wow, I didn't think I'd ever find someone so immediately unlikable as Lacey, but her father filled that role with no effort at all. Assuming that pompous jackassitude requires no effort. At least we now have unassailable proof that mental illness is hereditary.

Do I smell minty?

I should. I just splattered myself with about 17 ounces of original flavor Scope.

Kinda makes you wonder about the circumstances under which he wrote Every Rose Has Its Thorn...

Well, this week’s Rock of Love did not disappoint. I waited with evil glee all week to see Lacey get totally smashed and fall off the bar as she crawled across it (like a “cracked out cat” as Jes put it) in the most embarrassing display of public drunkenness since Courtney Love threw her compact at Madonna at the VMAs and then tumbled head over heels off the interview stool after revealing a past romantic liaison with Ted Nugent. And just when I got over cackling with delight at the sight of Big John carrying Lacey’s trashy, vomit-plastered self out of the room, I was rewarded with the hilarious prospect of a drunken Brandi vomiting through her napkin while Heather gobbled down oysters as though they contained a secret ingredient that would grant her immunity in the next elimination round. I don’t care what anyone says, this show is hysterically funny.

However, the best moment of the night was reserved for Bret’s heartfelt confession that Brandi said one of the most touching things he’s ever heard, just after he pulled her vomit-covered head out of the toilet. It was slurred and laden with profanity, but apparently it was touching. Why is this not part of NBC’s Thursday night comedy line-up?

Next week, the Heather-Lacey alliance finally explodes in a most spectacular fashion (whee!), and right in front of Lacey’s dad. I can hardly wait!

It was kinda like the time I got a charlie horse, jumped out of bed, and took a header into the wall.

So, my parents are the biggest baby hogs (yes, even worse than me) and I’m constantly trying to find crafty ways to outfox them and get more time holding Jules. Sometimes my efforts pay off and sometimes they just bite me in the butt in an extraordinary fashion.

Today, I was catching a ride to my parents’ house from church. As we neared the house, I saw my mother take off her seatbelt, grab her purse, and sit forward in her seat, obviously so she could leap from the car and get to the baby faster than me. So, of course I shouted “Dibs!,” took off my seatbelt, and likewise prepared to make a hasty exit. I opened my door while the vehicle was still moving, bounded from the car, and ran across the lawn, up the porch steps, and face first into the locked front door. My mother enjoyed a hearty chuckle and Jules was sleeping anyway. Not my best day.

I'll see your tiny white cardigan and raise you a 3-inch long pair of patent leather Mary Janes

So, I’m an aunt now and I’m terribly excited about it. Julia Diane was born on August 30, after she and her mother gave us the scare of a lifetime. I learned on that day that Melis is great in a crisis and I am the opposite of great in a crisis. I simply slip into a fugue state. But now that Jules and Jen are doing fine, I have begun to think about the obvious implication of all this: how much stuff can I buy for my little cutie?

I am telling you, it’s a whole new world for me. I used to be blind to the Children’s section in stores; now I’m pretty sure it emits a subliminal tone that summons me to it, beckoning me to find the prettiest little dresses and hats and purple corduroy pants. Oh, I’m so stoked that Jules is a girl because the girlie stuff is just plain more fun to buy than the boys' stuff and nobody can deny that. I can’t wait for Christmas.