A stupid little life...

I'm convinced there is some sort of cosmic connection between my family and Albert Camus. He was born on my brother's birthday, and he died on my birthday. (Doesn't he appear to be overwhelmingly dignified?)

I became closely acquainted with the man during a "Literature & Existentialism" class I took last spring. Turns out, the class didn't really count for anything credit-wise, but it was pretty fricking cool.

If you haven't read "The Guest" or The Stranger, check them out. Although I'm sure a lot of you might have run across them in a high school English class or a college course... Camus also developed The Myth of Sisyphus, based on Greek mythology, to support his philosophy of the absurd. Sisyphus was a man sentenced by the gods to spend his life pushing a boulder up a mountain, only to have the boulder roll back down as soon as he was finished. And so he would begin again...the absurd man, a mechanical life.

If you want to read my "Literature & Existentialism" term paper on Camus' philosophy of existentialism/absurdism as present in the film American Beauty (it also draws major parallels between the main character Lester Burnham of American Beauty and the main character Monseiur Meursault of The Stranger), I'll e-mail it to you. That was a fun one. I'm sure you're intrigued.

Mr. Camus, what does it all mean?

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication..."

Leo da Vinci fo dat ass.

I'm a firm believer that the simple things in life make it the most worthwhile...or get me through otherwise routine and redundant days (much like the adjectives I just used). Here's what makes me happy about Tuesday:

Sidenote: Mundane/Monday...any connection? It's probably some root word I'm way too lazy to investigate.

1. A 32 ounce fountain Mountain Dew from the gas station, complete with crushed ice. One last splurge before I give up the stuff for Lent (among other things, mind you).

2. Henry James' Daisy Miller.

3. Switching into a new section for one of my education classes, thereby arriving home by 4 PM on Tuesdays vs. the usual 6 PM.

4. Catalina salad dressing. Enough said.

5. Looking forward to one complete hour of Zach Braff goodness, i.e. quality time spent with my celebrity brother. (FYI, my celebrity dads are Dave Letterman and Bill Murray.)

Mardi Gras 2006: Mammaries galore

This weekend was the annual Mardi Gras celebration in the Lou (and everywhere else in the nation). As always, it was a test of our daytime drinking stamina and cold weather endurance. Every year, after I return home to thaw, I ask myself if the outing was worth it. I actually talk myself into thinking I'll pass when it comes around next year. But I always end up going, becoming an extremely wealthy drunk, and turning into a human popsicle all over again.

This year, my friend Suzanne (above, right) flew down from Michigan for the festivities. We stuck with Toral (above, center) for the entirety of the day. Alas, we didn't see any boobies. We did hear a guy sing a song about crystal meth, watch a girl dressed like a genie turf it on her parade float, fight with two male drunkards in a cab, eat the world's largest pizza ever made, and wrap up like burritos on the couch at the end of the day to wait for our drunk friends to trickle home.

Because New Orleans is, how shall I say, a bit out of order, St. Louis was expecting 600,000 people at this year's festivities. I just heard on the news that there were 34 arrests and 218 court summons. Good work, people.

I'm not sure if any of the boys ended up seeing some boobies, but Josh was hoping that a lot of "mammaries" would be made. So, thank you Suzanne, Toral, Josh, Matt, Corey, Caitlin, Darren, Tommy, Snacks, Whitney, Youngblood, Laura, McGinley, Cutler, Amber, The Todd, people named Dan, Barry, Boner, Kara, the city of St. Louis, Papa John's, and Project Runway for making this Mardi Gras event the best yet. Mark your calendars for next year.

Sidenote: I was able to eliminate the satanic red eye from Dinner's eyes (see the picture above), but I was not able to remove the twisted look on his face. He insisted on trying out new facial expressions in every picture he took all day. This was the best of the bunch.

The best show on TV returns...

Another reason I am un-American: I haven't watched a second of the Olympic games. It surprises even me. However, I am happy to say that Scrubs is returning after a brief Olympic-induced hiatus. There are two new episodes on this Tuesday at 8:00 and 8:30 PM. Hurrah for plum pudding!

Go...get...your...Scrubs...on.

Two wrongs DO make a right...

I love laughing at the expense of annoying celebrities. This is Oprah's interview with James Frey spliced into Oprah's interview with Joey Potter's baby daddy. Hilarity ensues.

Purified water and so much more...

As some of you may know, Jables and I are going to fulfill our fantasy as the real-life Will and Grace when we become roomies this May.

I feel as if I must make clear right now that it's not really a fantasy...that was pure sarcasm...but I know Jables will want that stated here and now. Also, Jables is not gay. We sometimes consider ourselves Jerry and Elaine, especially because Jables has very Seinfeld-like tendencies when it comes to dating and breaking up with girls. (He once broke up with a girl because she went to the Mac store at the mall and had her makeup professionally done for a barbeque. When he arrived at the party, she was also wearing a cowboy hat. Since then, we speak of her as the "Rodeo Clown.") When we bicker, Matt likes to call us Dawson and Joey. Thankfully now, since a certain plot twist on Scrubs has JD and Elliott living together, I think we've finally found a happy medium.

Anyhoo, we're becoming roomies in a few months. Shortly after, Rosey is making a permanent move to the Lou to become the third roomie (knock wood). Jables will be Janet, Rosey will be Chrissy, and I'll be Jack. See you at the Regal Beagle (aka Foley's).

Jables is, very understandably, excited about becoming a homeowner. He has a running list of home improvements he wants to make, along with future purchases that will make our little house a home. Last week, during some e-mail correspondence, he asked me multiple times of my opinion on a watercooler for the kitchen. Since I didn't really have a strong opinion on the potential tackiness level of a watercooler in the kitchen (hey, I'm just happy to have a kitchen large enough to contain a watercooler), I didn't answer. My assumed opposition led Jables to again ask about the watercooler while chatting with me on the phone a few days ago. I told him that I thought it was a great idea, and by God, I am going to cut fresh lemon wedges for our water all summer long.

Then, during the same phone conversation, the real benefits of the future watercooler were realized. All television show cliffhangers, crazy celebrity antics, gossip about our neighbors, and secret-sharing MUST take place by the watercooler. If someone is killed off Project Runway, I have to drag Rosey into the kitchen just to share the news. If Jables sleeps with a girl for the first time, he must call us into the kitchen so we can slap high fives.

We are going to start the 2006 Watercooler Craze. Hop on the train.

I'm from the Lou, and I'm proud...

Here are a number of websites/articles about upcoming developments in the St. Louis area. Very exciting, if I do say so myself. And I do say so myself.

The Bottle District

Go Cards!

Sidenote: Scotty Rolen's Ready

More Baseball Fever

Goodbye Sucky St. Louis Centre

The Boulevard Starts Phase Two

The Grove

Casino Queen Competition (My Lord, That's Mean)

Busy Brentwood

I tried to find some good shiznit about Wash Ave. and Maplewood, but alas, I could not. Please share if you have any good stuff.

And we come full circle...

The Fruitcake Lady is Truman Capote's aunt. Go figure. Check it out.

Before and after...

I was thumbing through some pictures last night, and I found one of the family pug (his name is Pugsley, but most of my friends like to refer to him as Keith) when he was still a babe. The difference is amazing. Mamas, don't let your puppies grow up to be fat pugs.

We were never a dog family until we got this guy. My brother's girlfriend at the time talked him into asking for Keith for his 19th birthday. After my mom brought him home, John quickly remembered that he isn't really a pet person. It took awhile, but Pugs finally grew on my mom to the point where they don't do anything without one another. They like to take walks, fish in the pond, take naps, cook, go to the Dairy Queen, and watch movies together. And she thinks he is as smart as a human.

We just hope he'll live to see another birthday. He's a typical Lard Ass Hogan.

You're a good man, Matt Guymon

As you can see, Matty is sad because he's spending his birthday locked in a hotel room in Chicago to study for the Illinois Bar Exam. That test is tomorrow. What a way to spend a birthday!

This is my little birthday tribute to Mr. Guymon.

Age: 26

Profession: Attorney

Ideal Profession: Rock star

Girls Who Rotate In and Out of His Top Five: Evangeline Lilly, Sienna Miller, Naomi Watts, Rachel McAdams, and Heidi Klum

Heterosexual Crush: Jude Law

Fashion Trend I Won't Let Him Try: V-neck t-shirts under blazers

Favorite Alcoholic Beverages: Guinness, Red Wine, Bushmills

Allergies: Well liquor

People vs. Dogs: Dogs, everytime...preferably yellow labs

Guymon Oddities: He is spastic and hyper when hungover, he owns 75,407,159,301 pairs of tennis shoes, and he makes up his own nicknames, like "Goose"

Interesting Facial Features: Extremely pasty skin and a huge scar over his eyebrow

Best Thing About Him: His infectious giggle...it's quite like a 5-year old girl's laugh

What Makes Him Cry: Sick or injured doggies and the Cards losing in the playoffs

Places He'd Like to Live: London, NYC, San Fran, Seattle, Chicago, and Nantucket

Favorite Quote: "I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." (Thoreau)

Adding to the musical canon...

After Darren, aka Dinner (pictured left), posted a snoop bloggy blog entry about his penchant for New Wave 80s music a couple of weeks ago, it got me thinking about my own 80s library. I decided I wanted to make a good playlist of 80s songs that "translate," if you will, to 2006. Meaning, if the songs were released today, you wouldn't know the difference (or I suppose MIND the difference). Some popular bands/artists in the 80s are still making music, anyhow.

Here's what I've got so far:

Pretty in Pink - Psychedelic Furs
Kiss Them For Me - Siouxsie and the Banshees
What Have I Done to Deserve This? - Pet Shop Boys
Bring on the Dancing Horses - Echo and the Bunnyman
Pictures of You - The Cure
More Than This - Peter Gabriel
What You Need - INXS
Luka - Suzanne Vega
Just Like Honey - The Jesus and Mary Chain
Voices Carry - 'Til Tuesday
The One I Love - REM
Veronica - Elvis Costello
What I Am - Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians

I even looked up these songs to make sure they were released in the 80s. After all, making a playlist is three parts artistic and one part scientific. Your homework is to respond with suggestions. I realize that there is a whole heap of songs by The Cure or REM or whomever that could be included. I just picked the ones that were my favorites.

Get to work, class.

The fruitcake lady strikes again...

This made my Saturday. Click here to watch.

Spiked by a memory...

The weather we are experiencing in the Lou brings back the same memories for me, year after year. I am 13 years old. It is the first day of track practice. Coach Massie expects so much out of me. Where is the Atomic Balm?

I ran the 400 dash and the first leg of the 1600 relay in both 7th and 8th grade. And you might think it was merely junior high track, but it was something serious. My dad, who was the superintendent of the high school where we held our home meets, would step onto the football field and literally follow me around the track, screaming my name from inside the chainlink fence. His chant still haunts me to this day. "Come on, Kate! Come on, Kate!" I'm kind of joking, but I'm kind of not.

Eventually, I grew up and out and around, and I wasn't the nimble little trackster that I was in junior high. I didn't even think about running in high school. But this weather, 13 years later, still brings on the same bouts of nerves that always overwhelmed me before a race. I have butterflies in my tummy just thinking about it.

Make it work!

Bravo has all of the good reality television shows. (No offense to Sally Survivor on CBS; I've tuned in the last two weeks to check out the island happenings. And by God, I hope she takes home the million because I want free pancakes, as offered by her generous boyfriend, if she can make it all the way.) I have this tendency to become really invested in the Bravo shows. They are like crack to me.

When Queer Eye first started, I immediately jumped on the bandwagon. I was like, "Who is this Kyan boy, and how can we turn him out?" I majorly hearted both seasons of Blow Out, except I did want to tell Jonathan Antin to grow a pair. He was always crying about his product line and blubbering about his assistants. His show provided great conversation starters when I first started seeing my hairstylist, Josh Stonewater (formerly Josh Malia before he moved to the new salon). And let's not forget about Being Bobby Brown. Am I embarrassed for watching? Hell to the no. Granted, Whitney is one cracked-out piece of work, but she provides me much entertainment. And My Life on the D List made me hate Kathy Griffin honestly a little less. I'm not sure how that's possible, but it happened.

Tonight is one of the last episodes of the 2nd season of Project Runway. Who's going home? I say it's either gotta be Kara Janx or Santino, as would everyone else. Santino pierces my soul. He looks like he's part of that family that eats people in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. No, wait, he looks like the giant man who performs at the circus in Big Fish. As Teeps said last week, "he made Janx look like a labia" in the jumpsuit he designed for her. His last name is Rice, which is my mother's maiden name. So, unless I find out I'm related and he's gonna a) offer me a sweet job or b) give me the free Saturn if he wins, I might have to root for Janx even though I don't think she's the stronger of the two. I do need those dent-proof doors though.

One dance move at a time...

First off, Happy Valentine's Day to you and yours.

This morning, I spent time with one of the main men in my life, my little 5th grade mentee, Bryant. Bryant was in a much better mood than he normally is...a) because he recently was moved to a new classroom where he has the more specialized attention that he needs, b) because we are making progress together, and the initial, yet inevitable awkward feelings related to any new mentor-mentee relationship have dissipated, and c) it's Valentine's Day and that means a classroom party with pizza and candy.

I told little Bryant today that he better watch out or Cupid was gonna make him fall in love. He said, "For real?" I said, "You bet. If you feel the sting of one of his arrows, you're gonna fall in love with the very next girl you see." He said, "For real-for real?" I said, "For real."

I asked him if he knew what Cupid looked like, and he shook his head. I said, "He has wings, a big belly, and chubby cheeks, and he flies around the world, looking for people to shoot with his arrows." And then a look of understanding washed over Bryant's face, and he said, "Oh yeah, he wears Pampers too, right?"

Anyhoo, since it's Black History Month, we read a book today about Elijah McCoy, an African-American inventor in the 1800s. Mr. McCoy, among other more notable inventions, designed the very first sprinkler. I asked Bryant if he knew what a sprinkler was. He wasn't sure, but he knew it had something to do with water. We looked at a picture, and then I demonstrated how it worked. Then I said, "When I was your age, the boys in my class didn't know how to dance. So, they made up a move called 'The Sprinkler.'" And I showed him how the dance went.

Later on, at the end of the mentor session, I looked at the calendar and let little Bryant know that he had a three-day weekend since Monday is President's Day. He said, "Sweet!" and immediately busted out a very funky version of "The Sprinkler."

I felt like a champion.

Damn you, Facebook, staight to hell...

So, I realize that this Facebook phenomenon isn't a brand-new thing...but it's only recently started to piss me off. I am in grad school at Lindenwood University to become certified to teach high school English. However, since my undergrad degree is Marketing, that means I lack many of the necessary English credits to actually teach the stuff. That also means that I go to class with 18- and 19-year olds. That, in turn, means that they are on Facebook all the time in the library. And I can't buy a seat at a computer because these skids are Facebookin' it up 24/7.

Tonight, at the shoe-slangin' store, the college skids wouldn't get off the Internets because Facebook was so enthralling. I've been told that MySpace is for the high school-aged, Facebook for the college skids, and blogs for old fogies like me.

Would I have participated heavily in Facebook, if it were available during my college years? I do know that leaving shout outs in the Buzz section of the Daily Illini was quite humorous. But, that's a hypothetical that I can't answer.

I just want to do my homework, conduct research for my upcoming certification tests, and read my friends' blogs. I don't want to wait in line for a seat in the computer lab because Joe College is checking out the hotties at Arizona State.

What a girl wants, what a girl needs...

I am a chick. I love flicks. However, I do not necessarily like chick flicks. There are definitely some movies out there that cater to the female demographic more than the penis-carrying crowd that are indeed worth watching. Maybe even multiple times if you purchase them on DVD. But man, there are some horrible chick flicks that make me want to vomit. Sometimes the sappiness is just too much, and frankly, I don't know how the male actors involved in these movies can sleep at night. (Cusack and McConaughey, I'm looking right at you). These are the movies that make me scream at the television screen when I'm home alone because it's just too much. These are the movies that make me think I should write a screenplay. Here is a brief list of some of the worst:

1. Just Like Heaven - Perhaps just the worst movie of all time. And you'd think that Reese would give you something to work with. She's a smart girl. Britt and I saw this in the theater, and we talked during the whole thing because it was so ridiculous. And we literally predicted everything that happened, including at the very end of the movie when the camera pans away from Reese and her honey standing in a garden...and then turns out, they are really figures in a snowglobe. A snowglobe, people.
2. How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days - I literally cringed when Kate Hudson sang "You're So Vain" in a flowered sundress, holding a Paris Hilton-esque dog.
3. America's Sweethearts - Ugh. John Cusack, what is your problem? And then Serendipity and Must Love Dogs followed. Where is Lloyd Dobbler when you need him?
4. You've Got Mail - A movie made to purely capitalize on the newest communication medium of the early 90s. I wonder how much AOL paid them for product placement.
5. City of Angels - What a fricking buzzkill. Nick Cage is so not hot. Gag me with a spoon.

Tonight I watched In Her Shoes with Britt and our visiting friend, Vanessa. It was entertaining, not excellent. Cameron Diaz' voice is still like fingernails on a chalkboard to me. It doesn't make my list of favorites, but it's a good renter. Here are some of my favorites:

1. Thelma and Louise - Obviously, Brad Pitt's abs make this movie spectacular. Geena Davis is well above tolerable. These ladies are friends 'til the end. Literally.
2. When a Man Loves a Woman - Andy Garcia is the sweetest man alive. The two little girls are darling. (This is pre-Napolean Dynamite ugliness for the oldest). Meg Ryan is a raging alcoholic, but man do they love each other. I would develop an addiction to hard drugs to have a man love me like that.
3. Clueless - This started my love affair with Donald Faison. Let us overlook the creepy fact that Cher got together with her ex-stepbrother at the end of the movie. And let us also overlook the fact that they have one of the most tongue-enhanced PDAs that I've ever seen. It made me blush. Let us just keep on rollin' with the homies.
4. Mermaids - This came out before Christina Ricci's forehead took over her entire face. I had a infatuation with Winona Ryder around the time of its release, also. I wanted to be her character in Welcome Home, Roxy Charmichael. Oooh, and this movie also has a great dancing-in-the-kitchen-while-making-dinner scene to "If You Wanna Be Happy."
5. Grease - I was one of the people who went to see it in the theater when it was re-released for its 15th anniversary, even though I owned my own copy on VHS. True love and he didn't lay a hand on ya? Sounds like a creep to me.

Finally, here is a list of movies that I think epitomize the general female nature and represent the general female mentality in a smart and real way. Some of them are chick flicks, but not in the ways that we normally think about that genre. I've provided quotes from each movie as my proof of their worth. And I swear I'm not a feminist. Maybe more so than my friend Suzanne who agrees with the stereotype that women are the worst drivers and who would sign a petition to eradicate the LPGA and WNBA in a heartbeat. But I'm really not a feminist.

1. Things You Can Tell Just By Looking At Her - "God says to Adam, 'Adam, I have something for you, but it's gonna cost you an arm and a leg.' Adam thinks for a moment, then decides, 'What can you give me for a rib?'"
2. The Hours - "The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity. I wish, for your sake, Leonard, I could be happy in this quietness."
3. Far From Heaven - "We ladies are never what we appear, and every girl has her secrets."
4. Lost in Translation - "I just don't know what I'm supposed to be."
5. Beautiful Girls - "No mater how perfect the nipple, how supple the thigh, unless there is some other shit going on in the relationship, besides the physical, it's going to get old, ok? And you guys, as a gender, have got to get a grip. Otherwise, the future of the human race is in jeopardy."

Going back to my roots...

I'm convinced that the new Mountain Dew MDX commercial is the best there ever was. The slogan is "Be Nocturnal," and it features various nocturnal animals dancing and singing to Lionel Richie's "All Night Long." Please set your respective TV recording mechanisms. It is imperative that you see this ad.

Sidenote: My parents are in town tonight, and after several hours of drinking together, we decided that we would prank various family members with our version of the Doobies' "Black Water." After we ran out of family members, my dad suggested, "Let's call Britt." Jude and I were sober enough to ix-nay that one cause she's preggers.

Things that make you go hmmm...

It's important to be aware of the randomness and ridiculousness of our daily lives. We have to laugh at something. For me, that usually happens when I reach the edge of total stress, and I spiral into delirium. I'm giddy right now thinking about some of the funny things that have happened in the past 24 hours.

1. I ordered a Papa John's pizza, and I asked for extra peppers on the side. The lady asked me how many I wanted. Usually, they just give me about ten and call it a day. But I could tell this time was a little different; the lady was going to play hardball. I asked the her if there was a newly established charge per pepper or something. She said, "Yes, ma'am." Like perhaps I was an idiot. I asked what the price per pepper was. She told me they were fifty cents a piece. Fifty cents for a pepper?! One little shriveled pepper? I just started dying laughing and told her to forget it.

2. An elderly customer at the shoe slangin' store, all excited about a new Super Wally World that just opened near his home, randomly asked me what I pay per pound for meat when I go to the grocery store. This is while I'm putting his stinking foot inside a shoe. That question simply struck me as hilarious, and I snorted in his face. I told him I wasn't sure...but I should have countered with Papa John's charge per pepper. Fifty cents, sir.

3. I was at a red light, and I thought maybe...perhaps...I had a new zit on my forehead. Now, I am definitely one of those shy people who stops singing as soon as I have to brake at traffic lights, during rush hour, etc. I definitely don't want other people to see me sing or checking myself out in the mirror. So, it was a big step for me to actually do this with other cars surrounding me. In the middle of the process, I hear a honk. I look out my driver's side window, and the guy next to me is giving me a huge smile and a thumbs up. Who does that? Please tell me what person would intentionally embarrass another human because she's popping a zit in her rearview mirror. I will probably never do anything but stare straight ahead at any future red light, gripping the wheel until my knuckles turn white.

No one's leaving until they sing the blues...

It's official. I have the winter blues.

It snowed in the Lou last night for only the second or third time this season. Can we discuss how much I hate the snow? Granted, it's lovely when it's falling from the sky. But, it's not so beautiful when it turns black or brown or yellow on the ground. It's not so lovely when it's caked to the windows of my car. It's not so lovely when it causes people to drive slower than fricking molasses on the interstates. And it's not so lovely when it forces me to walk like the Hunchback of Notre Dame so I don't accidentally slip and rebreak my already infamous tailbone.

Everyday that I head to school for my long day of classes, I do something spazzy and retarded. This is every Tuesday and Thursday. On the first day, I decided to pick up the barrel of a curling iron with my entire hand. The curling iron was on. It didn't feel good. The second day was the morning after I locked my keys in the shoe slangin' store, and I had to run around like a lunatic to get to class on time. The third day, I forgot my purse. I didn't eat until 9 PM for the first time that day. And I know that might not sound like a huge deal, but a) I can do some eating and b) there were fellow students all over this campus eating dreamy things and washing the food down with glorious water or diet soda. It hurt. And then on the fourth day, I got a speeding ticket on the way to class. That was yesterday.

Did that grubby little groundhog see his shadow again this year? I am in the mood for spring. I take my teacher certification test on March 4th (currently in the midst of studying hardcore for that). After that, Mother Nature has my permission to bring a heat wave through the Midwest. Anyone who wants to plant daffodils and tulips near my apartment is welcome. And if someone could shovel all the snow in St. Louis in one big pile (away from anywhere I might go), I would appreciate that, too.

Good times, great oldies...

Have you ever wondered at what point in your life will you reach your personal saturation point in terms of keeping up with new music?

My dad apparently reached his saturation point the second he graduated from college. He is a music snob in his own right, extremely unwilling to give anything released in the last 30 years a fighting chance. When I was in 8th grade, I asked him to name all the rappers he could. His response was "MC Hammer and Shaq." Recently, he called me up to ask about this group called the Dave Matthews Band. "Man, that guy can play the guitar," he said. He's almost proud to be completely behind the times. That's ok, papa.

Anyhoo, because the radio in our black Bronco 2 was cemented on the oldies station, my brother and I grew up listening to this genre 24/7. If it wasn't the oldies station, it was The Big Chill Soundtrack, Three Dog Night, The Grass Roots, Chicago, or Grand Funk Railroad. With my mom, it was Diana Ross and the Supremes, Smokey Robinson, The Temptations, and Aretha Franklin. This music is simply a family fixture.

My mom's extended family agrees. In fact, it's a family tradition that all the guys in the family sing "Mustang Sally" together at every granddaughter's wedding reception. Actually, we all got bombed at the rehearsal dinner the night before my cousin Casey's wedding a couple of years ago. My uncle drove us around and around the hotel parking lot just so we could finish singing "Five O'Clock World" at the top of our lungs. The first time Matt met all of my cousins was at a family reunion almost four years ago. We tried to get through a huge game of Trivial Pursuit, but the radio was cranked up and all of us kept bursting into song. Matt seemed a little skeptical. And nervous.

My parents and their friends would have parties and cookouts all year long just so they could get drunk and listen to the oldies. This triggered their idea to host an annual "50s & 60s party" at the KC Hall. They dressed up as hippies or nerds or greasers or car hops, decorated the joint, and even created lip sync acts for midnight performances. The first year, my mom and four of her friends performed "I Can't Get Next to You" by The Temptations. At eight years old and enrolled in dance class, I choreographed their moves. My dad, that first year, did "Old Time Rock 'N Roll" with both a guitar and a sax strapped around his neck. I think there is video of him "playing" the two instruments simultaneously. By the time I was old enough to attend the parties, they sadly died. Don McClean really predicted that one.

It wasn't long ago, during a visit to C-town, when my dad tried to convince my friends and I to stay in with him and not go uptown. He said, "Let's go inside, get weird, and do some tunes." In honor of Papa Cook, here are my top five oldies that will forever and ever remind me of my fabulous father:

1. "Beginnings" - Chicago
2. "Fire and Rain" - James Taylor
3. "Dance to the Music" - Sly and the Family Stone
4. "Never Been to Spain" - Three Dog Night
5. "Woodstock" - Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young

Looking over my shoulder for McCarthy...

I watched the Superbowl last night, and I thought the whole thing was just kind of boring. I worked from 12 - 5 PM yesterday, and we had the pregame commentary on the entire time in the store. Turns out, I don't even care what kind of grass they use for the field. I will admit: I'm not an NFL fan, but I feel highly un-American if I don't watch the Bowl of Super and its commercials. But please give me any college football bowl game to watch instead. Give me any NCAA tourney game to watch instead. Give me any playoff ML baseball game to watch instead. (But don't give me any Stanley Cup or important NBA game...I'd just give those back).

There was a big discussion during last night's halftime show on whether or not the Stones should continue performing live. I, for one, am on the Stones side when it comes to The Beatles vs. The Stones debate. ("Honky Tonk Women" may or may not be my theme song). But even I had to admit last night that Mick and the boys were looking a little ridiculous. Mick's midriff top, sequined belt, and skinny pants were looking a little dated...or like they came from an 8-year old girl's closet. I especially liked the extra flab that hung and swayed from the drummer's upper arms as he kept the beat to "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction." You only get that kind of entertainment from bands that have been kicking since Noah built the ark.

Maybe even more un-American than thinking the Bowl of Super was a snooze and the Stones should consider hanging up their live performance hats, is the fact that over the last week, I've developed a strong disliking for Ms. Oprah Winfrey. Oprah totally wants herself. After watching clips of her with James Frey and Dave Chapelle, I want to kick her in the crotch. I have nothing intelligent or credible to write because my anger hinders my ability to think like a rational human.

THANK YOU, SUPERBOWL!

Celebrities are taking over the planet...

Just days after my "Coolio and Me" posting, there have been many celebrity encounters throughout my circle of friends. Matt saw Cedric the Entertainer walking around Blueberry Hill last night. I asked him what he was doing, and he replied, "Some entertainin'." My friend Vanessa had a 20-minute chat with Jamie from The Real World: New Orleans about Julie the Mormon's intensity level in the challenges. (I don't know if he's a real celebrity, but you get the picture). My friend Melissa saw Drew Barrymore while in LA for work, and she also got a ride back to her hotel from Jerod/Jared the Subway guy. She said he's a jerk. And because of that, I'm not going to bother looking up the correct spelling of his name.

Some things are better left unsaid...

I just finished reading The Great Gatsby for the first time since high school. Because I'm an aspiring English teacher and definite nerd, I still highlight my favorite passages in novels. Therefore, I am easily able to pick up the book and share my favorite with you:

"'If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay," said Gatsby. "You always have a green light that burns all night at the end of your dock."

Daisy put her arm through his abruptly but he seemed absorbed in what he had just said. Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever. Compared to the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to her, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a star to the moon. Now it was again a green light on a dock. His count of enchanted objects had diminished by one."

The Christophorian job...

I'm really crabby today. I had more "nightmares" last night about my car being stolen. Let me back up...

A couple of weeks ago, on a random Wednesday, I got home from the shoe-slangin' store around 8:30 PM. I hadn't started class yet, so I stayed up watching the late-night talk shows. I fell asleep on the couch in the middle of Conan. Around 1:00 AM, the incessant sound of someone's car alarm woke me up. Finally, I decided to peer out my living room window to see what was going down. My big living room window has a panoramic view of asphalt and cars. Don't worry, there wasn't much going on, except someone trying to steal my car. They were trying to drag it across the lot with some vehicle that resembled a tow truck, but was in fact, not a tow truck. In my grogginess, I did not realize that at the time. I jumped into my shoes, covered up my braless boobs, and ran outside. They were gone. Looking back, it's probably a good thing that they were gone. I mean, how was I going to successfully confront some obviously amateur car thieves?

I called 911, and the cops came in about 2.5. I was wired. Why me? I drive a 1998 Pontiac Grand Prix, and let's just say it's nothing special. We found evidence of them trying to get into my car the old-fashioned way. Again, why me?

It takes a lot to freak me out, but I was freaked that night. Last Sunday, at 4:00 AM, someone laid on his car horn for about two minutes straight. I bolted up in bed, my heart pounding. This time, it was coming from the neighborhood behind my complex, but still. Why all the drama, people? I live in a nice neighborhood. Can a girl get a decent night's sleep?

The answer to that is no. If it's not amateur car thieves or my late-night partying neighbors, it's my subconscious scaring the crap out of me. On that Sunday, I dreamed that everyone in my complex had their cars stolen because we were being punished for steroid use. Last night, I dreamed (seemingly over and over again) that people had stolen my car and were then coming for me inside my apartment.

I think I'm scarred for life.

Come along and ride on a fantastic voyage...

Growing up in Christopher did not offer me a lot of opportunities to run into celebrities. I think the closest I came was Lou Henson (former Illini basketball coach) when he was at our high school, recruiting the one and only TJ Wheeler. I was eight years old. I got his autograph.

I still don’t have a long list of celebrity-sightings or -meetings, but I’ve upped the ante a little bit since the days when Papa Cook coached the Bearcats to countless victories. I thought I’d share my photo of Coolio and me because it’s pure ridiculousness. And I want to make you laugh. You deserve it.

On a relatively recent trip to NYC, Britt, Nikki, Vanessa, and I managed to see everyone who’s ever worked for MTV. (A show of hands…how many of you have met John Norris? I think it might be everyone reading this blog. That man’s like horse shit...he’s everywhere). We also went up to a poor soul at Pastis and interrupted his dinner…just to ask him if he was the former child star who played “Chip” on Kate & Allie. I know, it’s sad. I saw Rosario Dawson somewhere in SoHo, and I pinched Britt so hard she yelped in pain. But then she realized who it was, and that justified the abuse.

My friend Kara’s boyfriend is a struggling actor in LA (he was Joaquin Phoenix’s stand-in in Walk the Line), working at some boutique. He had to stop talking about his job with Kara because she obviously cared more about whether or not J. Simpson was wearing her wedding ring while shopping at the store than his actual day. That’s my girl.

Matt's dad is best friends with Scott Wolf's dad. When Scott married Kelly from The Real World: New Orleans, Matt and I schemed and schemed on how to possibly get invited to the wedding. Maybe it was more of me doing the scheming. I swear, I'm not a loser.

My favorite cousin-in-law, Ward, went to school with Jeremy Piven.

Part of me thinks it’s disgusting that I am so fascinated by these people. I love to hear about these sightings and "connections." I won’t assume you’re with me on this, even though I know for a fact that some of you have already accepted the editor of US Weekly as your personal lord and savior. But the other part of me thinks it’s harmless fun. To be ashamed, or not to be ashamed? I'll say "not ashamed" for $1000, Alex.

Perhaps the best celebrity run-in story I know can best be told by Josh. I don’t think I should attempt it because I wouldn’t do it justice. But let’s just say it involves Drew Barrymore’s boyfriend, a ticket stub, and a famous line from a Matt Damon movie. Josh, humor me, please.

Anyway, it’s Hump Day. Our tired minds deserve a little break mid-week to focus on pure fluff. It’s like our own little (gangsta’s) paradise.