"Why is this not in the candle aisle? This BELONGS in the candle aisle!"

Well, we played the Wal-mart game again. Once again, awesomeness ensued.

We arrived at 1:00 AM. It was me, Liz, Kris, and Lex against Jackie, Jimmy, and Zack. It was a close competition and we were almost defeated by a reed diffuser, but in the end it was some incense from the impulse buys and some green maraschino cherries from the baking aisle that were the undoing of Jackie, Jimmy, and Zack.

Excellent job finding the location of the dog snuggie, Lex. I can't wait for the next one.

I love Christmas vacation

I have decided that I will be staying in pajamas today. All day long.

Don't judge me.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!

Also, Gooturducken!

If you get it, you get it. If not, carry on.

"Donkey!" (said in Scottish ogre voice)

So, it's the shortest day of the year, which makes me think with fondness of Gram and how this day would have made her more cheerful than a day in August, because now we start building up to longer days as opposed to losing increments of light with each passing day. Oh, Gram.

As for me, I'm taking some time today to make a cardboard donkey for one of my colleagues. Don't judge me. My friend at work sent this tidbit to me in an email:

December 21st, the shortest day (longest night/Winter Solstice) of the year, is dubbed St. Thomas Day. In parts of the Sauerland (in Germany), whoever wakes up late or arrives late to work on that day is issued the title "Thomas Donkey." This person is given a cardboard donkey and is the subject of numerous jokes throughout the day. But this gentle abuse ends deliciously with round, iced currant buns called "Thomasplitzchen". In other parts of Germany the day is called other names such as Durchspinn-Nacht or Durchsitz-Nacht. Traditionally a lot of alcohol is consumed and the next day is often called Kotzmorgen (hangover morning).

So, of course we had to make a cardboard donkey and present it to our perpetually late colleague. This was my template:


I love December.

Snowed in and loving it!

I love being snowed in. Right now I'm listening to Christmas music, watching the snow fall through windows lined in lights, eating Christmas candy, and I'm about to wrap some presents in shiny foil wrapping paper. Everything is sparkling and glowing and the ground is covered in fluffy white snow. I'm pretty much full-up on contentment.

This makes me happy

Look at those windows. I wonder if I could do this in my sunroom...

The Greatest Christmas Decoration Ever

James just sent this to me.



The man who created it wrote:

"Good news is that I truly out did myself this year with my Christmas decorations. The bad news is that I had to take him down after 2 days. I had more people come screaming up to my house than ever.Great stories. But two things made me take it down.

First, the cops advised me that it would cause traffic accidents as they almost wrecked when they drove by.

Second, a 55 year old lady grabbed the 75 pound ladder almost killed herself putting it against my house and didn't realize it was fake until she climbed to the top (she was not happy). By the way, she was one of many people who attempted to do that. My yard couldn't take it either. I have more than a few tire tracks where people literally drove up my yard."

How's this for a slice of fried gold?

This:


Plus this:

Equals: "I couldn't be happier. Thank goodness!"

This just in:

"Broadway star of Wicked Idina Menzel is in talks to join Fox's Glee as the coach of Vocal Adrenaline, the McKinley High glee club's nemesis. Menzel would appear in the remaining nine episodes of the season."

Whee!!!!

Pass the Kleenex

You know how you could never watch an episode of Little House on the Prairie without crying? Modern Family is the new Little House.

Every episode, man. Every single episode.

The Marie Division is mine!

I am delighted to tell you that I won my division in the cousins' Fastasy Football league. It was a hard fight, but in the end my team, The Dude Abides, rode Kurt Warner's 29 points to victory. The old man came through!

Aaron won the Frank Division and joining us in the playoffs are Melis, Jen, Scott, and Mark. What I am most excited about is the first round bye, which means I only have to win two more games to take the whole enchilada.

I feel like a Little Lebowski Urban Achiever.

A not so heartwarming tale of Christmas past

I have never believed in Santa Claus. It’s a fun little factoid to whip out when playing “Never Have I Ever” or when you want to tell people something that will cause them to stare, open-mouthed, in abject horror. I told some co-workers this today. There was staring. There was abject horror. It was awesome.

This post isn’t about the question of should you or should you not tell your kids about Santa. I have no kids and never will so I needn’t even weigh in on that. (I do have an opinion, and if you know me well, you know what it is.) No, this post is a diverting little tale of what happens when you take a truth-equipped child who is a bit of a smarty-pants and unleash her upon a classroom of unsuspecting 5-year olds.

It was January of my kindergarten year. We had just returned to school after the Christmas break and my teacher, perhaps wanting to ease us back into the school day, asked us who wanted to stand up and tell the class what Santa had brought him or her for Christmas. My hand shot up. Even at age 5, I was able to immediately recognize an incorrect statement and even more immediately wish to correct it as vociferously as possible. It’s not one of my better qualities, but there it is.

My teacher called on two other students before calling on me, and I listened impatiently as they prattled on about Smurf figurines and tricycles. I had gotten a windfall that Christmas, but I wasn’t planning to tell anyone about it. I had something very particular to say that everyone really needed to hear. Finally my teacher called on me, and I stood up tall and announced in a clear, loud voice, “Santa didn’t bring me anything because Santa’s not real.”

I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps a gasp of shock, followed by a clamoring of questions. Really? He’s not? How do you know? Why do you have this important information and we don’t? How are you so smart? How could I have lived this lie for the past five years!

Instead, I was on the business end of a furor. Hissing and shrieking hurled at me from all sides of the room. “Yes he is SO real!” “Santa DOES exist! He brought me a Matchbox General Lee!” “You’re dumb!” Repeat, repeat, repeat.

I remember being genuinely surprised in that moment. I remember thinking, “Seriously? All of you? Every single one of you? It’s such a burden to be the only know who knows what’s really going on here.” (My internal monologue can be insufferable.)

I looked to my teacher, expecting her to back me up, to confirm what we both knew was happening, but her eyes held only panic, incredulity, and a little fear that she might be attacked by a mob of feral, enraged children. She tried to smooth things over as best she could and I took my seat again, imagining a time in five or six years when my classmates would come to me and tell me I had been right all along (they didn’t) and thank me for being a beacon of truth (they SO didn’t.)

I’m really not sure how my parents didn’t feel the need to tell me not to go trumpeting the truth all over kindergarten. Surely they knew what a loud-mouthed little know-it-all they had on their hands. And even if they didn’t, surely Jennifer would have informed them. Furthermore, what was my teacher thinking when she asked that question? How could she not know she was courting disaster? She totally asked for the mayhem that ensued in the classroom once she sparked that inferno. And for the phone calls that evening from angry parents who were putting out fires of their own.

Incidentally, "Never have I ever not told a room full of kindergarteners that Santa doesn't exist" is a bit of a tongue twister, but effective nonetheless.

"Coasters! They'll never know where to find coasters!"

This past weekend, I (sort of) broke my Wal-Mart boycott, but it was in the name of a glorious cause: game awesomeness. Zack introduced us to the Wal-Mart Game, something he’s been playing for years. (When you marry into a game-loving family, it’s always a good idea to bring some awesome games of your own to the table. Good show, Zack.) When he described it to us, I knew we had to play, boycott or not.

We gathered the troops. Zack and Liz were leading the charge and of course Kristen and I were all for it. Jackie was very excited to go. Nicole absolutely refused to go with us (boo!) and Jimmy had to be pulled off the couch where he was sound asleep. With six people in tow, we set off to start a new family tradition.

How to play the Wal-Mart game:

Step 1: Choose a 24-hour Wal-Mart and arrive no earlier than 1:00 AM. We arrived at 1:38.

Step 2: Split into two teams. Zack, Jackie, and I took on Liz, Kristen, and Jimmy. If this becomes the family tradition I suspect it will, I envision four or five teams roving the aisles.

Step 3: Take 30 minutes to comb the aisles finding ten items that will be difficult to put back. Avoid obvious places such as the cereal aisle. Feel free to choose feminine hygiene products if the opposing team is all male. Place the ten items in your cart, taking care that the opposing team does not see you in the act of choosing an item. You must be sure that there is at least one identical item left on the shelf after you’ve taken yours.

Step 4: Meet at a pre-arranged location (in our case, the display of citrus fruit) in order to exchange carts. Before the exchange, I suggest a quick bathroom break since you probably stopped at Sheetz on the way there for Cuppocino and Red Bull, even though Red Bull is vile despite what Jackie says.

Step 5: Exchange carts and the game is on! Teams must stay together at all times, and try not to run so fast that they are caught by the manager and thrown out into the dark Pennsylvania night. Whichever team puts away all ten items and arrives back the pre-arranged location first can call the other team on their cell phones and gloat. You may even be so pumped that you want to immediately play another round. Do so, unless the cousin that you dragged off the couch at 1:00 AM declares with bloodshot eyes, “There is no way that is going to happen” and then threatens to lie down on the shelf next to the baking soda unless you take him home right away.

The name of the game is strategy. Liz, Jimmy, and Kristen had us roving aisle after aisle looking for a display of gluten-free soy-based chocolate chips, and the jacket from the hunting gear section had us caught in the menswear section for quite a while. Two items in particular were our works of genius. Jackie chose an L bracket from the hardware aisle that was displayed in a barely visible cardboard box on the top shelf, and Zack picked some temporary tattoos from the impulse buy section at the registers. Masterful.

Afterward, the others bought some two dollar DVDs from the Black Friday bin, but I waltzed out of the store having purchased exactly nothing. I will leave it to you to decide whether I technically broke my boycott or not. All I know is that I left Wal-Mart with a smile on my face, and that’s a first.

Start strategizing for the Christmas round, cousins.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

To those who are usually with us but aren't today, we miss you terribly. The first wave of pigging out is now over, except for Uncle Giz, who is on round three. My dad and Uncle Denny are sipping wine at the adults' table. Uncle Gary is drifting off to sleep. Nicole is cleaning up. Melis, Brian, Jen, Jonas, and Aaron are debating about fantasy football. None of them are convincing each other of their points because we all think we're right. Julia is making Uncle Jimmy help her put her princess shoes on. I'm either going to grab a nap or start up a trivia game as soon as I pass out the cousin CDs. It's basically business as usual. A wonderful day.

Hallelujah! The return of Slapsgiving!

Are you watching How I Met Your Mother? If not, you're only punishing yourself. If you are, you know what I mean when I say:

Slapsgiving.

Slap #4.

It. Is. On.

Decorating = out of hand?

No need for lamps. I now light my apartment entirely with Christmas lights. Except the bathroom. I do have some limits.

I wonder how they'd look in the bathroom...

There is really no reason this should please me, but it does.

Hey fellow It's Always Sunny watchers, I just found out a tidbit of info. I knew that Mac and Dee were married in real life, but I just found out that Charlie is married to the waitress in real life. And I know it's ridiculous, but this makes me so happy. Charlie deserves to be married to that waitress.

Just in case you were wondering...

Days I've been gloriously Wal-Mart free and not regretting it in the slightest:

26

Perhaps my delight in the failures of others should worry me. Perhaps.

"This is me showing fear. Or wait, maybe it's anger. Or love. Oh, I don't know! I do them all the same."

So, New Moon comes out this Friday, as various television ads and every magazine printed in English is reminding me. Part of me is hoping it's better than Twilight, because despite their appeal to starry-eyed teenage girls, I really did enjoy those books very much. But part of me hopes it's just as heinous as the first movie so that I can enjoy all the unintentional comedy. I'm particularly looking forward to watching Kristen Stewart desperately try to emote.

And as long as we're talking about my delight in the misfortunes of others, did you see the Pats-Colts game tonight? What could be better than watching Bill Belichick choke on his own hubris? Watching him cry just after choking on his own hubris. He denied me that pleasure, but I suppose we can't have it all.

Houston continues to be awesome.

Today, Amanda and I went to The Mad Potter to paint pottery. Liz and Kristen, I kinda felt like I was cheating on you.

Tonight, we went to Steel City Pizzeria, a Steelers-themed sports bar in Houston, to watch the Monday night game. The place was packed with Pittsburgh-lovin' Texans. As I've said before, Steeler fans, like Polamalu on the field, are everywhere. It was so much fun to watch the game with tons of people screaming like lunatics at every completed pass, yardage gain, and touchdown. This was just what I needed after sitting Kurt "40 points" Warner on my fantasy bench this week.

Meatland!

Last night, Amanda, Gena, and I went to Fogo de Chao, or as I like to call it, Meatland. (Kris, you may want to stop reading now.) It's a wondrous place where men roam around with skewers of filet mignon, ribeye steak, lamb chops, pork, etc. You are given a card, red side up. When you flip the card to green, the men with the skewers swarm on you like bees on that kid in the movie My Girl. (Spoiler!) They started piling meat on my plate. I couldn't have stopped them if I'd wanted to.

The rest is a blur. Two hours later we left and awaited the onset of meat sweats.

And I'm off!

Today I fly to Texas to visit Amanda. There will be laziness, there will be fun-having, and there will be a ludicrous amount of eating.

I think Sam Houston would have wanted it that way.

9-1-what the crap is going on here?

So, this past Saturday my friends and I went to Pittsburgh for a glorious day of Ikea, Dave and Buster's, and the most magnificent meal at Lidia's in the Strip District. Have you been? Go. Go now. Drop what you’re doing and go now.

Anyway, on our way there, we noticed the car in front of us was weaving dangerously all over the road and we decided to call 911. I won't go into the details, but I was bounced back and forth between several Indiana and Westmoreland County operators, each of whom were convinced I belonged with the other. Then, just to be more mischievous, the weaving driver turned back toward Cambria County, sending me on to another operator, who repeatedly asked me, "Which way is the car headed?" I repeated, again, "Toward Ebensburg." And then added, "By way of weaving all over the road."

After talking to seven different people, I was finally transferred to the State Police who asked me for some nearby landmarks. I asked my friends what was nearby and P offered, "We just passed Streekers." (Streekers is a strip club, and yes, I had to look up the correct spelling.) I covered the mouthpiece with my hand and hissed, "I am NOT saying that to a police officer. Find me another landmark!"

When the officer promised to send a trooper out, and we decided we had done all we could so we turned around, even though I really wanted to keep following and watch the guy get pulled over. I imagined all sorts of melodramatic DUI tests or maybe some meth in the glovebox.

Anyway, if you ever need emergency assistance, try not to need it near the county line.

Extraordinary

James sent me the link to this photo essay. It's remarkable, both as a work of photography and as a tribute to love and letting go.

And if you have an issue with your co-workers seeing you cry, maybe don't view it at work.

It's a miraculous miracle!

Okay, so do you remember how I went on and on about how awesome that new NBC show, Southland, was? Well, I did. I went on and on. Then what happened? NBC decided they didn't have room for gritty dramas anymore because they'd rather put the super cheap Jay Leno show on five nights a week in the 10PM slot. (Like, seriously, are you trying to destroy your network?)

Southland was a casualty of this madness. I wept, I wailed, I declared that Brandon Tartikoff would be rolling in his grave to see what has become of the network he built, the network that ruled the 80s. But! Now, I no longer have to look with bewilderment at the burned out shell that is NBC. I don't have to look at NBC at all. TNT has picked up Southland and will re-air the first season's seven episodes as well as the second season episodes that have been filmed. It's a miracle!

After all I've been through with Pushing Daisies and Arrested Development and Firefly and Veronica Mars and The State and Deadwood... Wow, I've been through a lot. But TNT has rescued me this time. January 12, people. Officer Cooper returns.

Straight outta Lackawanna

Sweet fancy Moses, do you guys watch The Office webisodes? The latest batch is all about the gloriously dysfunctional Kelly-Ryan relationship which causes Miss Kapoor to pour her heart out in the medium of song. Kelly and nice/clueless receptionist Erin have created their own girl group, Subtle Sexuality, and the third webisode features their debut video, "Male Primadonna."

Yes, it's about Ryan and features a rap by him, and a solo by the 'Nard Dog. Also, even though it's a novelty song, it's better than most of the crap winning MTV music video awards right now. I downloaded it from iTunes and I have no regrets.



Could Ryan be any creepier? How hilarious is Andy? How much do I want Kelly's rhinestone eyepatch? (So much.)

Yes, I think she can dance.

This is my early prediction for the winner of this season's So You Think You Can Dance:

Ellenore is talented and an utter delight. She has my vote. I am also adoring Russell and I hope he comes in second.

P.S. Days I've been gloriously Wal-Mart-free: 6

The smiley face shackles are coming off.

So, I went to Wal-Mart on Friday. Foolish, I know, but I needed to scan some photos so I could post them on Facebook. I spent about an hour scanning photos and when I tried to add my name and number to the order, the computer froze and lost all of my photos. As you can imagine, I was in a state. I had just spent an hour in Wal-Mart, a place I despise like poison, and it was all for nothing.

To her credit, the woman at the photo center was very sympathetic and apologetic, which was a nice surprise since Wal-Mart employees usually either growl at me or ignore me. I told her it wasn't her fault and that I understood there was nothing she could do, but still I was in a tizzy. I packed up my things and exclaimed to myself (and whoever else was in earshot), "Oh, this is such a horrible place! I hate it here so much!"

And then I left, because it is a horrible place and I do hate it there so much. It's the opposite of Holly Golightly's romanticized view of Tiffany's; whenever you go there something horrible happens to you. Or you end up screaming obscenities at your spouse. Each time I enter the building I invariably leave wishing it would burn to the ground, so why do I go back? If I knew a person who made me feel this way I'd avoid him at all costs. Therefore I have decided to avoid Wal-Mart from now on, for my own mental health. We don't like each other, Wal-Mart and I, so it's time to chuck this abusive relationship. I will be purchasing groceries at the grocery store, health and beauty items at the drug store, crafty items at Michael's, and everything else at Target. And, so help me, if I have to buy an entire photo-processing station and house it in my sunroom, I will never be the victim of a frozen scanner again. Freedom!

Days I've been Wal-Mart-free: 3

Proposal rescinded!

Remember when I wrote this? I take it all back. I'm not going to get into the Vernon Davis-related shenanigans. Just know that Mr. Roto cost me 27 points this week and I no longer wish to marry him.

27 points. I could throttle that man!

Crazy magical wizardry via Photoshop

Oh, sweet fancy Moses, you must check out this Swedish dude's website. He takes photos and retouches them. That's all he does. But what he does is some sort of magical trickery that will blow your very mind. Madness!

Take a look around his site. Beware of the chopped carrots, though. Eek!

Note the Haven T-shirt

Oh Canada, what are you doing?

Take a look at the hideous design for the Olympic medals at the Vancouver games:

This is what decriminalizing marijuana leads to.

Christmas Movie Day

Jen and I spent yesterday watching Christmas movies. It was fabulous. On the marquee:

"In America I'm Prince William. Without the weird family."

"You don't smell like Santa. You smell like beef and cheese."

"Argentina has great beef. Beef and Nazis."

Also, Julia threw a knife at me. I'm not talking tossed; I'm talking carnival freak knife thrower spinning through the air straight at my head. Awesome.

Little Ghandis

They're celebrating the 140th anniversary of Ghandi's birth. And they're doing it adorably.

Marry me, Mr. Roto!

I don't know why people accuse the Talented Mr. Roto of wrecking their teams. I think he's some sort of mad genius. Last week I benched Derrick Ward and put in Steve Smith on his advice. Smith pulled in 12 points and Ward marked it zero. This week I benched top tight end Witten in favor of Roto-loved Vernon Davis, and it netted me 7 points. I adore this man!

In fact, the only person I adore more than him this week is David Garrard.


Thirty-seven points! David, you handsome devil.

"I will whip this snuggie off right now an' come over there an' smack yer mahth."

There's finally a new Greg and Donny up on their YouTube channel. It's not quite as funny as Gina Gets a Snuggie, or as nostalgic as the Idlewild one, but it's a delight nonetheless.




You gotta be from J-town to nail that accent.

I wear the cheese, it does not wear me.

Last night I dreamt that a giraffe got loose from the zoo, got onto my enclosed porch, and trashed it. Flower vases smashed, chrysanthemums eaten, ceramic garden stool tossed to the wind, and my Nikon D40, with lenses, totally smooshed.

What did I take away from this? I feel like an irresponsible camera owner who left her D40 out in the path of maniacal giraffes. I'm certain James will chastise me.

So long, Coach. I love you, but I love my sanity more.

My dreams of an October TV date with the Taylors have been smashed. I was recently delighted to order DirecTV, until my dealings with six different customer service representatives convinced me that everyone at that company is on the crack. Each new person I spoke to contradicted what the last had told me and sometimes even themselves, culminating in a conversation in which I asked the same question five times in a row, was ignored or given false answers, and was forced to ask the customer service rep, “Am I not speaking ENGLISH right now?” When I asked her to cancel my order, I very politely told her I would need an email confirmation because I couldn’t believe a word she had told me. Or, you know, as politely as you can insinuate a person is a big honking liar. But! Two days later, no email confirmation. So, ha!

What an appalling experience.

So, I was very upset about my satellite TV options, which is one of the stupidest things in life that a person could be upset about. And the universe has driven that point home. Yesterday I heard a radio program about a woman dealing with an infestation of bedbugs, received an email from a guy who does not know how to properly use an apostrophe, and saw a girl go out in public in an extremely unfortunate hot pink polyester mini-dress that was 100 percent wrong for her figure. Clearly other people have bigger problems than I, so I need to just check out the Dish Network and shut up.

Also, I remembered that Uncle Jimmy has DirecTV, and a DVR that he said I could use any time. So maybe I will be having dinner with the Taylors in October after all.

Happy Birthday, Jen

Today is Jen's birthday. We're having roast turkey with all the trimmings to celebrate, which I think is a pretty fantastic way to celebrate someone we love. Happy Birthday, Jen.

Ali, in the Kitchen, with the Spatula

Tonight Mom, Melis, Jen, and I went to Westwood for Great Cheap Dates and to see Julie and Julia. What a wonderful film! It made me want to cook. With meat. Can you believe that?

I came right home and baked some chocolate chip cookies. It wasn't anything terribly complex or even anything I hadn't made before, but I really wanted to be in the kitchen and to get my hands on some butter. If you learn nothing else from Julia Child, you learn that butter is a wonderous, magical substance that makes everything better than it was before. Ironic then, that Melis sat three seats down from me, munching on butterless popcorn. What a waste.

I also made some spaghetti sqaush for lunch today. Look how pretty it is:

Yum.

Tonight's delicious dinner...

...is hibachi-style fried rice, courtesy of Liz and Zack's awesome recipe. They made us a fabulous hibachi meal when Kris and I visited this weekend. I wanted to be buried in a pile of that rice so I could eat my way out. Thanks, guys.

So long, cable. Hello, Coach Taylor.

I just signed up for DirecTV. This is awesome because not only will I get a ton more channels, many in HD, for less money, and finally be able to DVR shows instead of shamefully being tied to the archaic VCR, but more importantly I will be watching season 4 of Friday Night Lights NEXT MONTH (!) instead of waiting for the viciously cruel summer of 2010 premiere. I must confess this is 95% of the reason I chose DirecTV. The siren song of the new East Dillon football team...

October 28th, baby! Me and Coach and Tami. It's gonna be awesome.

These childish tantrums will not stand!

My landlord has placed the following note on our building's mailbox:

Mailman,

Your childish TANTRUMS by shoving the mail into my box and crumpling it into a ball had best not happen again or I will videotape the behavior and lodge a formal complaint.

The words "TANTRUMS" and "ball" are double-underlined.

I can't help but think that he probably crumpled the mail first and then shoved it into the box. But when you're mad enough the capitalize and underline a word, you're probably not thinking about the chronology of the events.

You know how I laugh when people fall down? Things have just been taken to a new level.

Roger gets my sense of humor.

Last night on Mad Men a secretary drove a John Deere riding mower over a smarmy British guy’s foot. He went down like a French prizefighter and I nearly fell off the couch, so violent was my laughter. Something about the way Harry looked mortified when a fine mist of blood hit his crisp, white oxford shirt, and then Lois drove the mower straight into a plate glass window... I was in hysterics. So much so, that I had to rewind the scene a few times and guffaw again. And if you saw me walking into work this morning, that chuckling was the result of my playing the scene over again in my head.

I have no excuses.

This weekend = craftiness and fun

Kris and I are heading to Liz and Zack's this weekend for the usual (playing with baby Wes, Rock Band, craftiness at Color Me Mine, etc.)

I expect awesomeness at every turn.

Serena Williams is flipping insane.

Did you watch the US Open match? How about the circus of a press conference immediately following, when she tried to justify her behavior? I'm actually kind of pleased she refuses to apologize or even acknowledge that she should apologize. This way I am free to be just as disgusted by her as I please, and isn't that what we all want?

She and Kanye West need to go have dinner with Christian Bale and Russell Crowe. They can form a club for rageaholics with no self-awareness whatsoever, and fight over who gets to be president.

Russell would throw phones, Serena would "shove bleeping tennis balls down people's bleeping throats," Kanye could scream about how Kim Clijsters didn't deserve to win the match because Serena's got one of the best games of all time, and then Christian could jump up on the table and declare, "You're all dead to me, professionally!"

For the last time, celebrities, listen up! If you're famous, you simply must try harder to hide your psychopathic tendencies. I don't need to be watching Gladiator and not be able to concentrate because all I can think is, "Dude throws phones at people when he doesn't get his way." I'm just trying to watch a movie. Or a tennis match. Or a crappy awards show.

Take a page from Tom Brady. I'm convinced he's got bodies in his basement, but it's not like he goes around in blood-soaked t-shirts. The only evidence he displays are his cold, dead eyes, and he can hardly hide those.

A drill story

So, last weekend I went to my Dad and told him I was having trouble with my drill. It wasn't allowing me to drill starter holes and I didn't know what I was doing wrong. So my Dad was like, "Describe the item to me." And I did so, and then he was like, "Yeah, that's not a drill. That's an electric screwdriver." (Shut up, James.)

So I went to Ace (the helpful place) and I am now the owner of an actual drill. I already used it to hang a shelf and it's so much fun to use! I just want to start drilling holes in all my walls. I need to exercise some restraint or I'm going to destroy my apartment.

This QB really ties the team together

My team is drafted and now I just have to hope that Kurt Warner doesn't shatter like a Czech crystal vase. Every time I turn around, someone is reminding me just how old and decrepit he is. Whatev!

Also, I now realize that my team name opens me up to taunts of, "Mark it zero, dude" anytime one of my players fails to produce. I accept that risk.

"Put the piece away, Walter."

Draft day!

Today, we draft. This year my team is named The Dude Abides, and my team slogan is. "This is not Nam. This is Fanstasy Football. There are rules." Either that, or, "Obviously you're not a golfer."

If you’re not getting any of this, you have my sympathy. Get thee to Netflix.

I'm drafting in first position. I don't want to spoil the surprise for anyone, but if you're one of the 3 people who read this blog, I'm giving you the inside scoop: I'll be taking AP. I really hope he does well, because by the time it snakes back to pick #20, I'll probably stuck with, like, Willis McGahee.

Hooray for the start of football season. "You got a date Sunday, baby!"

Farmers' Market Flowers

This week I nabbed some sunflowers for a harvesty, "Hello Fall!" look. I am so ready for Fall.



I also told the Flower Master (that's what I'm calling her now) to just arrange whatever she wanted for my second bouquet. She went with a lovely variety of pinks, with a few pale greens to keep things interesting.



Last week's flowers look pretty much the same as the day I bought them, so that's awesome.



And this week there was something new: dried flower balls. These two went home with me. Wouldn't these be a great favor for a bridal shower?



And on the way back I ran into Aunt Penny, so now all I can think about is delicious cookies.

Julia is two. And yet I haven't aged a day.

My marvelous little niece turned two on Sunday. Aunts, sorry I haven't posted photos on Facebook yet. It's on my To Do list, I promise.

Julia shoved her face with cake and had lots of fun ripping open presents. I got her a dress-up set and all you need to know about that is the two-year-old walks better in heels than I do. It's a humbling truth.

Holy crap! Is anyone watching Mad Men?

So much great stuff last night! It was the night of cool character revelations. Don has roots in PA coal country? Peggy wants to smoke weed? Pete and Judy can Charleston? Joan plays the accordion? I thought I knew these people.

Hey, all of you people who went to Italy with me...

…and even all of those who didn’t, take a look at this. My friend Fran sent me the link. You know how people take those funky pics of themselves looking like they’re holding up the leaning Tower of Pisa? Apparently, when you snap those same pics from a different angle, it looks like a “mass-hallucination tai chi class.”

I wish I had done this when we went.

The red beauty in front is a dahlia

This week's flowers from the Farmer's Market:

Last week's are still looking quite well:

The sweet smell of school

I was jealous of all the kids getting their new notebooks and pencils for back-to-school, so I treated myself to some Mr. Sketch scented markers. The raspberry one is divine, and it's taking me back to my elementary school days.

Of course I will be staying far, far away from the black licorice one.

I have to go to China!

To see this. It's a children's bookstore in Beijing, designed by a Japanese artist. Fabulous. I want to walk through that tunnel of color.