Elmer, Jan, and Bambi's mom

I drove to C-town today. On my way home, once I exited the interstate in favor of backroads, I noticed how many lawn ornaments my fellow Southern Illinoisians display in their front yards. I definitely think that a huge ceramic doe standing guard over her fawn is...how shall we say...a little tacky. (I apologize to any of you who have lawn ornaments or family members who proudly own lawn ornaments). However, thinking about said lawn ornaments subsequently made me think about something I used to love to do as a child...and it's one of those memories that I haven't thought about in a good, long while so that makes it extra special.

Until I was 8 and a half, I lived in Herrin, Illinois. We didn't really have any neighbors, except for Elmer and Jan. They ran a business that actually created and sold ceramic lawn ornaments. Their entire front yard was a who's who of the most popular decorative pieces. When I was 5 and 6, I'd to trek to their home (our houses were spaced very far apart, that's why I say we didn't really have any neighbors) and browse through their maze of various sized squirrels, gnomes, birdbaths, deer, toadstools, rabbits, and the like. Sometimes Jan would let me watch her paint the rascals. You can imagine how a 5 year old girl's imagination would run away with her at a place like this. I thought it was so cool. Looking back now, I think it's "so weird" (using my best Travolta voice).

Also, I remember I walked over to Elmer's one time and my little boots got stuck in the mud. I couldn't move at all. I just stood there until someone found me.

There's a first time for everything...

And today's first for me is winning my work NCAA tourney pool. I've never even placed in the top three. (You can tell how sad this is when you consider there are three games left, and the shoe slangin' store already has a winner). I was the only girl who entered a bracket. In your face.

Screener McScreenalot...

Answering machine: Hey, it's Katie. I'm not able to answer the phone right now but please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

BEEP

Jables: Hey Katie, this is the Church Lady. It's about 10 to 2 on Tuesday. Just wanted to share a bit of the gospel with you. It's 1st Corinthians 4:13 that says "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." So, let's try to apply that to your life. You balance a heavy dose of work and school at the same time, and you couldn't do that on your own. I think if you could lean a little bit on God, you'd have a lighter load. Bounce that around in your head a little--

Screener McScreenalot: Shut the hell up.

Well, isn't that special?

I have a situation in my life that I only recently bothered to mention to any of my friends. Only by their shocked reactions did I realize that maybe this little situation isn't the most normal thing in the world. What I once just accepted as simply part of the daily routine has now been flipped turned upside down. You see, I'm being psychostalked by the Church Lady. And apparently, that's extremely weird and scary.

It all started about a year and a half ago. A lady by the name of Linda started calling me at home, and now that I think about it, I'm not sure how she got my phone number in the first place. She would just ask for one minute of my time so that she could read a Bible verse to me. What was I supposed to say? So, I would accept, she would read, explain in a sentence what it meant, and tell me to have a nice day. I will admit, it was a nice little pick me up. Lord knows I'm not the frequent church-going type, and I'm not reading the Good Book every night before it's time for nonny. So, why not listen to Linda?

Our little relationship took a turn for the worse when Churchie asked if she could send me a brochure in the mail entitled "What God Expects from Us." Like the ball-less person I am, I said sure. Little did I know that she would call me a few days later, hoping to discuss the brochure. I ended up spending 20 minutes on the phone while she asked me to read to her and paraphrase the verses we were covering. I have never been so uncomfortable or embarrassed in my life. I've only recently started blatantly hanging up on courtesy callers, so there was no way I could tell this woman that I wasn't interested in talking to her anymore.

Since I'm a struggling full-time grad student, I cut corners where necesssary. I don't have caller ID on my landline phone. After receiving the brochure in the mail and being forced into Sunday School via the telephone, I started heavily screening my calls and disguising my voice when I did decide to answer. If it was Linda, I told her that "Katie wasn't home." I'm not sure if she felt the slap in the face everytime I outrageously lied to her or if she was so optimistic with God's love that she believed that it really wasn't me. She never left a message on my answering machine when I honestly wasn't home, and she never left a number for my "roommate" to call her back.

A few days ago, I was home during the day and mistakenly answered my phone. It was the Church Lady wanting to discuss more of the brochure. I put her on hold while I searched for the pamphlet, and then I remembered that I had thrown it away. I lied again and told her that I was moving soon, and I had probably packed up the brochure in one of several boxes. She then asked me if she could visit me at home to hand deliver a new brochure. Good God, who is this woman? I told her I had to work all weekend, so it wouldn't be a good time for me. But of course I never told her that I wasn't comfortable with the idea of a potential visit.

I mean, if it was someone trying to sell me encyclopedias, I could probably work up the nerve to tell her to back up off me. But, she's a holy-rolling Bible thumper. It's a sensitive topic and fine line we're walking here. It's pissing me off though because she's using her supposed good intents to cross some boundaries into my private life. I don't even know her, why would I allow her into my home? And did she have no shame getting my phone number in the first place, calling a complete stranger at home, any hour of the day? I don't like pushy Christians.

My goal is to refrain from answering the phone until I move in with Jables in May. Call me on my cell phone if you wish to speak at me. And please don't give the Church Lady my future address. If you have an idea of a better way to handle this situation, outside of being upfront with the woman, then let me know.

Daddy's girl...

This is Norah Bridget Holzmacher, 2 weeks and 3 days.

Vanessa, Nikki, and Kerri visited the Lou this weekend for quality girl bonding time with little Norah, Britt, and me. Good times.

I could never really sing, what I couldn't do is sing!

Have you ever been asked the question: If you could pick one talent or ability to possess, what would it be? And I suppose the answers could range from being invisible to reading minds...from flying to throwing a killer curveball. But, my answer has always been the same. I wish I could sing.

I took dance classes from the age of 3 until I left for college at 18 (ironic sidenote: the studio was located in Energy, Illinois). Because of my involvement with the same studio for 15 years, I was constantly surrounded by very talented people. People much more talented than I. My trio competed every year, and we took every opportunity to perform anywhere and everywhere around Southern Illinois: recitals, festivals, basketball games, fairs, revues, you name it. I went to dance camp every year in St. Louis (it was in the Hilton Frontenac, fellow St. Louisians), and one year I even ventured to Disney World for a two-day clinic. I definitely wasn't one of those ballerina types who made dance her sole passion, practicing before and after school and doing nothing else. But, I did as much as I could for a girl who was also interested in other pursuits. No matter how much I enjoyed dancing, I always envied the girls enrolled in my studio who could dance AND sing well. Not to mention, the ones who were also good actors and beautiful.

When I got to junior high, most girls at my studio were auditioning for area musicals. Even if you just wanted a part in the chorus, you still had to get on stage and sing a song by yourself. In front of everyone. This is where another good example of "I'm a Walking Contradiction" comes into play. I could dance like nobody's business in front of all God's people, but I was absolutely terrified to sing alone or do a monologue. It kept me from auditioning several times. I even passed up Grease, one of my favorites.

I can't believe I'm admitting this. In order to build some confidence and hope to do more than just carry a tune, I actually took voice lessons for several months. It was purposely just to get through one of these auditions because I was so horribly shy. When my voice teacher insisted that I perform "I Don't Know How to Love Him" from Jesus Christ Superstar in her recital, I quit.

Luckily for me, my dance teacher choreographed a JuCo version of A Chorus Line when I was in 8th grade. She basically just let me participate without auditioning. I was the "girl in the headband," in the chorus. It's amazing how much confidence you gain when your subpar voice is among a group of excellent singers. I sang one song with the entire cast at the beginning, said two one word lines ("Yes" and "No"), and sang "One" (singular sensation...) with the group at the end while knocking out 88 high kicks in a row. We did 8 shows in one week, and I had the time of my life. One of the best parts for me was the middle of the show when I wasn't onstage. I would sit behind the thick black velvet curtain in the pitch dark and just listen.

To this day, A Chorus Line is still my favorite musical. It's so funny, it has a ton of hardcore dancing, and the song lyrics are so great. I mean, how wrong can you go with "Tits and ass, had the bingo bongos done, suddenly I'm getting national tours?/Tits and ass, won't get you jobs unless their yours?" Perhaps you've seen the Michael Douglas film version. Maybe you own it. Maybe not.

That was the end of my acting and singing career. I've avoided acting like the fricking plague pretty much since then. I don't even sing in the shower. But, I still love to get down with my bad self. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen often enough. My friends and I aren't exactly the clubhopping types. That's why I have to rely on a kick-ass wedding reception to shake what my mama gave me. I still am super jealous of anyone who can sing. So, if you can, please don't tell me about it...unless you plan to serenade me everyday while I make a voodoo doll in your likeness.

We'll beat the birds down to Acapulco Bay...

Matt leaves this morning for a bachelor party in Acapulco. First, let's talk about the fact that the bachelor party is in another country. In the exponentially growing trend of elaborate bachelor parties, this one takes the cake.

I am extremely jealous. Acapulco was where I spent two out of my four college spring breaks, and it was always a fantastic time. My girlfriends and I stayed both times in the cheapest hotel, aka the Casa Inn, which was situated in the middle of the strip and connected to Hooters. Nothing but class here, folks. To top it off, Hooters room service often forgot to include utensils in our delivery so all food was eaten with our fingers. I distinctively remember Vanessa eating baked beans in that manner. Yummy.

The clubs, although so not my style, are some of the best in the world. Palladium overlooks Acapulco Bay and has a raining fireworks show every night. Andromeda offers mermaids swimming in tanks overlooking the dancefloor. El Abreje features natives pouring unidentifiable shots from a pitcher directly into your mouth while trying to dirty dance with you. Fun stuff.

Let's raise a tequilla slammer to Acapulco, the source of an infinite number of college memories. I wanna go back.

Radio on the TV...

First off, my favorite novelty song of last spring, "Finding Out True Love is Blind" by Louis XIV is now being featured in a Payless commercial. Amusing.

Secondly, I have major hard times when I look at pictures of or see Jenny Lewis on TV. She performed on Letterman tonight, and it seriously freaked me out. It's similar to the Olsen twins. When I look at them, I see the same monkey-faced babies who uttered contrived catchphrases on the best make-me-puke sitcom that ever was, Full House. It's like they haven't aged. At all.

The thing is, I like Rilo Kiley, and I'm digging Rabbit Fur Coat. I can listen, but I just don't think I can look at Jenny. She looks EXACTLY the same as she did in her Troop Beverly Hills and Big Girls Don't Cry... days. Tonight, she even wore her hair the same way: parted down the middle with heavy bangs. Lighter on the feathering, though.

Jean Genie, part deux

Because my inquiring mind wants to know, I dorked it out tonight and did some research on blue jeans. Here is an extremely scary tidbit that I thought I'd share with you all:

"On February 10, 1999, the Italian Supreme Court of Appeal in Rome overturned a rape conviction, stating that jeans are unable to be removed without the wearer's consent. Therefore, they ruled, the supposed victim must have been an active participant in the act. This last verdict, however, was also overturned, on November 28, 2001, by the Italian Supreme Court of Cassation, which finally established that wearing jeans does not exclude rape."

On a lighter note, jeans are blue because when they were first created indigo was the cheapest and most durable dye. Not because Levi or Strauss was a Cubs fan, but thanks for the theory, Dinner.

Should a bet really be a bet?

Everyday at the shoe slangin' store, the UPS man comes to pick up our packages and get them on their merry way. Steve has been doing the same route for years and years. I remember this man from my brief stint at the shoe slangin' store right out of college, pre-"real job." He's a pretty pleasant man, probably in his late 40s or early 50s. He's typically in a much better mood than I would be if I had to lug boxes and wear brown from head to toe everyday. He usually makes a comment about the song that's playing on the Classic Rock radio station we listen to in the stockroom, or more simply, he just bursts into song. Hey, whatever keeps Steve in his pleasant mood.

Yesterday, Steve rang the buzzer at the backdoor right when Cream's "Sunshine of Your Love" began to ooze through the speakers. As he was scanning our boxes and waiting for me to print a report, he acknowledged the tune that was playing as one of his favorites by The Doors. I did not correct him.

In the next three minutes, he mistakenly attributed "Sunshine of Your Love" to The Doors three or four more times. Still, I said nothing. I figured, "Let him have his moment. He's a good guy." And then I had to chant to myself, inner-monologue style, "Don't be a know it all. Don't be a know it all. Fight the urge." Well, that all went down the drain when he said, "I bet you kids don't even know who Jim Morrisson and The Doors are." Well.

So, I casually said, "I thought that Cream sang this song." He swore up and down that he was right. He even offered to bet me a dollar. I accepted. He then asked, "How will we find out for sure?" Then I introduced him to this thing we crazy kids call the Internet.

I quickly surfed my way to Wikipedia, and sure enough, the website said that Cream sang "Sunshine of Your Love." He good-naturedly reached into his pocket for a dollar bill. I told good old Steve that I didn't want his money, but he insisted "a bet was a bet."

After he left, I continued working in the back. Three minutes later, the backdoor buzzer rings again. My co-worker, Mark, predicted that it was Steve again, prepared to get his dollar back. Sure enough, the UPS man had snagged two employees of 106.5 The Arch, a radio station in St. Louis that has offices above the shoe slangin' store.

Mind you, the epic song was still playing.

They listened for a second, and good old Steve was proven wrong again. I offered to give his dollar back, but he refused. He only chuckled and said that he would know better than to bet against me the next time.

My subsequent questions on this little situation:

1. I think that at times I might be competitive to a fault. Why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut?
2. Is it appropriate to make a person pay up on a friendly bet? I feel like there's some ettiquette that I don't know about.
3. Should I become a 50s/60s music trivia hustler? I could go around to bars that the baby boomers frequent and pretend to know nothing pre-1985. I could make a lot of money, and maybe I wouldn't have to work at the shoe-slangin' store anymore.

At least that's what you said...

Today is one of those Mondays when I declare that I'm never drinking again. I had myself quite the little bender this weekend. Well, this Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I have a hard time keeping that pace these days.

After prompted to partake by Illini basketball, St. Patty's Day, and Scrabble respectively, the weekend was capped off with a rockin' good time at the Wilco show last night with Matt, Josh, Darren, Cutler, Amber, and Chicago friends Mike Sebastian and his girlfriend Sally.

The band honored its hometown with "Casino Queen" and "Fell in Love with a Drummer" - both songs that mention the Lou in their lyrics. Thankfully, they played my personal favorites: "Jesus, Etc.," "Passenger Side," and "I'm the Man Who Loves You."

With dinner at Blueberry Hill beforehand and a rousing round of bowling after the concert, it was a nice little Sunday evening. And now I'm never touching the booze again.

Are you a Yankee or a Rebel?

I'm 46% Dixie.

Why are there so many reasons to drink?

In honor of March Madness beginning today and St. Patty's Day tomorrow, I thought I'd share a quote from Lysistrata by Aristophanes:

"For when we're sober we're never at our best."

Good day.

I am pissed.

From Blender magazine:

"Actor, dancer, and 80s heartthrob Partick Swayze is hoping to add "rap star" to his resume. The Dirty Dancer has teamed up with hip-hop artist Antonius Maximus on an as-yet-unnamed track that sampled Swayze's 1987 radio hit 'She's Like the Wind' featuring updated vocals from the B-movie icon. 'Rap rhythms are an emotional undercurrent for ballads,' Swayze told Blender. 'We've already played it in a few clubs in L.A. and San Francisco, and the crowds went wild.'"

I'm Swayze. And still pissed.

Jean Genie

Why are jeans blue? Have you ever stopped to think about that?

Believe me, I'm the biggest proponent of jeans there is. I would wear nothing else if given the choice.

But why is this all-casual, everyday, go-with-everything pant BLUE? Like blue is the most neutral color they can make? I'm really surprised jeans don't most commonly come in an earth tone.

We've seen the black, the purple, the red. We know that they have the capability to dye the denim other shades. That's what kept County Seat in business all those years.

So why did the masses collectively decide that blue is the best color for jeans, the most versatile article of clothing in our wardrobes?

I just think it's odd.

What doesn't kill me will only make me stronger...

In fellow blogger mjs' most recent posting, he listed a top ten of popular diseases that will surely kill us all before the strangely ominous bird flu takes its toll. Thinking I was supremely witty, I made the comment that he must have inadvertantly omitted "cat scratch fever" from his varied catalog of maladies. Then, later on, I remembered that I really have had cat scratch fever, and it's nothing to joke about.

My proof lies in a letter that I wrote to my Grandma Ree around age 7. The letter ended up in my hands after she passed away. Here is the letter, integrity upheld, no modifications made:

Dear Grandma Ree,

I have a "lymphnode" which is a knot or a bump on my leg by my groin. I have a cat scratch, a cat poked its claw in me, and mommy thinks that my bump was caused. The first day I saw it, it was little, the second day it got smaller but we didn't put any medicine on it. Today I woke up and it was huge. Mommy put orange medicine on it but first she washed it then she put peroxide on it. Then on my other knee I have a wart, mommy put some Compound W on it and it went down so now I don't have to get it burnt off like last time.

P.S. It's really big.

I found out later that my mom was actually terrified for me and thought that I might get insanely sick from the cat claw puncture wound.

The thing is, I've always suffered from the weirdest, least identifiable and diagnosable illnesses. To make matters worse, I grew up in a household where we were taught to be unreasonably tough. My mom is an RN and my dad is a superintendent. They are used to people whining, faking, exuding laziness, and abusing the system. So, my brother and I never stayed home from school, even when we were very sick. And we definitely never went to the doctor. At least not in a reasonable amount of time.

Here's a brief rundown of what's ailed me:

Broken Bones

1. I broke my arm during a failed cheerleading stunt at age 9. My parents didn't really think it was broken. Instead of taking me to the doctor, they took me bowling. I was in pain, crying, and acting like your basic poor sport. They made me finish the game. After a week, my mom poked around on my arm during my sleep. I cried out in pain. It was time to go to the doctor, and I got a hot pink cast.

2. I fell hard on my ass during a dance team practice one day. I heard a loud crack on the tiled floor. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The next day at school, I had to use a pillow to sit down at the desks. After the pain went away, I started feeling around "down there" and realized that my tailbone was awfully pointy and boney. I couldn't remember if it was always that way or not. Three years later, I had it x-rayed, and let's just say it's the most broken thing on the face of the planet. My mom said she gasped when she saw the x-ray. But, let's get serious...if you know me well enough, you've felt the alien tailbone by now.

Surgeries

1. I had my appendix removed when I was 3. Last summer, I found out it was totally unnecessary.

2. I had my wisdom teeth out two at a time. For the second set, I decided to only get a local anesthetic because I was really nervous about being totally knocked out. Big mistake. I heard roots tearing. The doctor couldn't extract my top left tooth. He smashed my face as flat as a pancake to get enough leverage to rip that thing out. Not a good experience.

3. My LASIK surgery was elective and life-changing. But, my eyes bled. Enough said.

Other Mysterious Illnesses & Injuries

1. Just last May, I had what I like to believe was a staff infection in my face during finals week and five days before I was a bridesmaid in a wedding. I had a puffy face, swollen lymphnodes, a high temperature, pussy scabs on my face, and pink eye all at once. I have never been so miserable in my life. The situation was so dire that I made Josh Malia (now Stonewater) give me bangs to hide the hideousness.

2. When I was 6 or so, I was casually walking on my family's back deck when I looked down and noticed that a huge piece of wood was lodged in my foot. I looked like I had a built-in ski. It took both parents and a set of pliers to get that tree out.

3. As mentioned in the letter to my grandma, I suffered from warts. They were mostly on my feet and my knees. I've had two or three burnt off in my lifetime. The one on the bottom of my foot got sickly infected. I seriously had an inch deep hole in my foot.

I bet you think I'm so attractive. I do have an extremely high threshold for pain. Ask the guys who shot me with a pellet gun.

A regular Ebert...

My grandma recently saw Walk the Line. I asked her if she liked the movie. She said, "It was just ok. I wish it was a little less about Johnny Cash's life, though."

If you lived here, you'd be home now...

Play by play of my Saturday, March 11, 2006 in Christopher, Illinois...

1:08 PM - Arrive at my parents' 200-yard long driveway. Try not to turn Molly and Belle, the outside dogs, into roadkill as they chase the big red toy I drive up to the house.

2:00 PM - Take a walk with the inside dog, Pugsley aka Keith, and my mom through a cemetery. Have a serious debate on whether or not the putrid odor wafting our way is a decomposing animal, a skunk, or a combination of the two.

3:15 PM - Deny my brother's request to watch a videotape of a Christopher High School basketball game against Sesser-Valier from his junior year. Apparently, the Bearcats had been defeated by the Red Devils twice in the season prior to this game. But, this game was John's time to shine.

3:36 PM - Learn that my grandma's flight home from St. Louis (previously from Ft. Lauderdale to Dallas) to Marion, Illinois is delayed. Not good news for the short-fused, weary, 82-year old solo traveler.

4:18 PM - Receive prank phone call on my cell phone from my father who is on his way to wait for the aforementioned short-fused, weary, 82-year old solo traveler at the Marion airport. Hear The Doobie Brothers' "Black Water" blaring into my phone. No words exchanged.

6:06 PM - Have a beer with my dad before we pick up the short-fused, weary, 82-year old solo traveler for her annual birthday dinner at Mary's. Prepare to kiss major ass.

6:30 PM - Bestow birthday gifts on grandma to lighten her mood. Tell her not to cry when she bursts into tears at the mere sight of her new Yankee candle.

6:35 PM - Order first glass of wine.

6:55 - Purposely avoid my brother's beady-eyed gaze as he attempts to make me laugh in the waiter's face while we all listen to the night's menu selections.

7:00 PM - Order second glass of wine. And lobster. I deserve it, damnit.

8:00 PM - Order third glass of wine.

9:35 PM - Leave dinner. Stop at the gas station across the street so my dad can buy a pack of chewing tobacco.

9:37 PM - Stop two blocks later on a side street so my dad can find the tobacco he just bought and then immediately lost.

9:45 PM - Watch my dad fiddle with the CD changer to find a song he knows. It lands on "Never Been to Spain."

9:56 PM - Drop grandma off at home. Remember to honk on the highway while she stands by her garage door and waves. And waves. And waves.

10:00 PM - Whisper to my dad that we should go have another drink. Watch him crank up the radio's volume and put the music back to the beginning of "Never Been to Spain" so we can listen to it "his way." Sing all the way to the Knights of Columbus.

10:14 PM - Say hello to all eight people sitting at the KC's. Learn that Franklin County is under a tornado watch.

10:17 PM - Ask my mom if she wants to take advantage of the $1 Sour Apple Schnapps shots.

10:30 PM - Correct my mom when she states that DuQuoin is in Randolph County. It's really in Perry County. Listen to her complain about "how she always get her counties flipped" and state her idea of renaming Perry County to "West Franklin County."

10:54 PM - Arrive home to the pug who is completely terrified of the thunder and lightning. Accidentally set off house alarm to scare him that much more. Take pictures of the dog appearing completely frazzled and laugh my head off.

11:30 PM - Watch "Millionaire" with my mom and realize where I got my competitive streak.

11:45 PM - Take Pugsley to bed with me. Fall asleep to the sound of light rain, howling dogs, and crickets.

3:30 AM - Wake up to Pugsley literally tapping me on the shoulder. He doesn't like it when I sleep on my stomach. He wants me to spoon him.

The soundtrack to our lives...

Last weekend, pre-Oscar bonanza, the oldies station in St. Louis only played songs that were part of movie soundtracks. But, let's get serious...there's probably some sort of oldie in 95% of movies made. However, the research, I'm sure, was the more tedious part: figuring out what song came from what movie scene, etc. The station provided very detailed information.

On my way to school today, I heard "Mrs. Robinson" by Simon and Garfunkel. An old boyfriend, who severely annoyed me at his mere pontification on the following subject, pointed out several years ago that The Graduate was perhaps one of the first movies to have a famous soundtrack, or a soundtrack at all. Obviously, I'm not taking credit for this idea. But I will wholeheartedly admit to being unreasonably irritated with the conversation because this guy came up with the most random ideas just to hear himself talk. Talk, talk, talk...

Here are my top 5 favorite movie soundtracks that I OWN:

1. Reality Bites - Juliana Hatfield 3, Crowded House, Peter fucking Frampton, a great U2 song ("All I Want is You"), and the number one chick song of all time, "Stay" by Lisa Loeb

Sidenote: I kind of want to revisit all the girl bands from the early 90s like Juliana Hatfield...remember The Breeders, Veruca Salt, and Belly?

2. Magnolia - It's 99% Aimee Mann, and she's the bees' knees. It helps you look past the fact that it's raining frogs, and you don't know what the hell that means.

3. Boogie Nights - Well, I did own this one until Jables took it away 8 months ago. Can a girl get her CD back? Please? Anyhoo, it's got one of my favorite oldies, "Brand New Key" by Melanie and the rock power ballad "Sister Christian" by Night Ranger. The latter song just makes the last scene of the movie all the more perfect.

4. Garden State - Well, I have to support my celeb brother, Zach Braff, in any way I can. Plus, he's got great musical taste. It's right up my alley with perhaps my favorite Coldplay song "Don't Panic." (Which by the way, is also featured in Igby Goes Down, another movie I loved.) It's also got a great Simon and Garfunkel song, "The Only Living Boy in New York," a nod to The Graduate. (By the way, I don't credit myself with that either...Roger Ebert told me to say it.) Other artists include Frou Frou and The Shins. This soundtrack "will change your life..."

5. Beautiful Girls - Great soul music mixed with Pete Droge, The Afghan Whigs, and Neil Diamond. If I bring my old piano into Josh's new home, the first thing I have to do is learn "Sweet Caroline" to recreate the scene from the movie. I've already been told it's a prerequisite to moving in.

Other movies with great music that come to mind are anything directed by John Hughes or Cameron Crowe. They are gods in this department. There's a lot of Ryan Adams on Crowe's 2 disc soundtrack of Elizabethtown, and you know I back that 100%.

Other movie scenes that are MADE because of the song selection (I sound like the American Idol judges: it's all about song choice).

1. The final scene of American Beauty when Lester Burnham almost becomes a pedofile features Annie Lennox doing a Neil Young cover of "Don't Let it Bring You Down." It's kind of haunting. Don't make fun of me for writing that, either.

2. The motivational scene in Footloose when all the kids are hard at work in the barn, decorating for the big dance. You feel so proud of them. Kenny Loggins pumps me up.

3. At the end of High Fidelity, John Cusack's character gets back with his ex-girlfriend. As the camera pans out, "I Believe" by Stevie Wonder ends the movie on a very uplifiting note. But not in a cheesy way at all.

Ok, those are my humble opinions. Hit me with yours.

Can you say anal-retentive?

This is something I'd really like to master. Thank you to Kristen LeBlanc for informing me that there are better methods than what I'm currently using.

Slackin' on my bloggin'

I have to admit that my brain has been a little mushy from hardcore studying and subsequent subpar paper writing. I am going home to C-town for the first time since Christmas this weekend. Hopefully, if I don't get it together before then, my relaxing getaway will get me back on track.

I do have to say that this week has been pretty eventful for some of my best friends. Nik's engaged...Britty's a mom. Wow, do I feel old. I cannot believe we are old enough for this stuff to be happening!

It seems like just yesterday I was grimacing while popping the top of an ice cold Bud Light at 8 AM, participating in football block after a night of hardcore drinking at Gully's.

Or it seems like just yesterday that I was cruising uptown in my silver Mustang, honking at my same high school friends standing outside of the DQ every time I made a lap (which took about five minutes).

Or it seems like just yesterday that I was slow dancing two feet away from my junior high boyfriend at the Hampton Building for Tiffanie Bretzman's birthday party.

Instead, I'm closer to 30 than 20 and on my second career already...yikes. Beer me, por favor.

The waiting is the hardest part...

It's a girl! Rodney and Britt welcomed Norah Bridget Holzmacher earlier this evening. She weighs 7 pounds and 4 ounces, and she is 20 inches long. I wish I could get a good look at the babe, or at least see a picture. I'm anxious!

I was surprised by the choice of name because I thought it was between two other main contenders. Damn those Holzmachers...they are sneaky. But, I fully support the decision. It is precious.

And Nora (without the "h") is a great character from Henrik Ibsen's play A Doll's House. I'm sure it's Rod's favorite.

Kidding aside, Nora begins the play as a "doll," living inside a "doll's house" with her husband, children, and their nanny. Her responsibility is to play the perfect, ever-doting wife and mother. Her life is empty, and she ultimately wonders what she has to authentically offer anyone. By the end of the play, she decides to leave her husband to venture into the wider world. She then, in my opinion, becomes a contemporary fictional female role model. (Man, I sound like a feminist).

So, here's to baby Norah. I hope that she is strong, proud, and determined...just like Nora in A Doll's House and especially just like her mama.

Exciting news!

First off, best friend Britt is in labor, delivering other best friend Rodney's baby! Boy or girl? I can't wait to march straight to Baby Gap and buy that babe something with some color. Everything in his or her little closet is pastel yellow or green. So exciting!!!

Secondly, Cheers Heavy has started a blog, based less on personal stories and more on interesting findings in the realms of politics, sports, etc. He is the most up-to-speed person on the happenings in the world that I know, so this might be the new The Daily Show. At least for me.

The link is:

www.theashtraysays.blogspot.com

What's in a name?

Just so you know, I helped a customer at the shoe slangin' store today who went to school with kids named Crystal Dish, Fleeta Ferry, Penny Nickel, and Peter Rabbit.

Now, that's just cruel...

Going to the chapel...

A million and one congrats to best friend Nikki and her boyfriend Steve! Steve popped the question tonight!

They are truly very, very happy.

PS - One of the most fascinating things about Nikki is that she's a cross between Martha Stewart and McGyver. I like to say she can make just about anything from some banana peels and twine. And she can do "The Worm" like nobody's bizness.

Thank you, Michael Seaver...

I just finished taking my Praxis II test, which is the teacher certification test for the state of Missouri. I feel pretty positive about the experience. But like any true perfectionist, I drove straight home from the test so that I could research the correct answers to questions that were difficult.

There was a particular question that briefly described an American play, and the test taker needed to select the title of the play from four choices. The description was something to the effect of "a 1950s African-American family who moved to Chicago," yada yada...

I was able to narrow down my choices to two contenders: A Raisin in the Sun and Our Town. I had previously read or seen the other two options.

I was pretty sure that it was A Raisin in the Sun. Sean Combs/Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Diddy make his Broadway debut in that play. Thankfully, I remembered that Michael Seaver won the lead role for a high school rendition of Our Town during a very pivotal episode of Growing Pains. That was when dear Mike decided once and for all to try and become a professional actor once he graduated. And PS - no one on Growing Pains was African-American. That sealed the deal.

One more correct answer on the road to becoming certifiable...

Trivia fo dat ass: The title A Raisin in the Sun is derived from Langston Hughes' poem "Dream Deferred."

Throwback Thursday

Any current or former student knows that when you're in school full-time, the weekend officially starts on Thursday evening. Even if I have to work at 9 AM on Friday, I still consider the moment I step out of class on Thursday night to be the start of my weekend. I've found the best way to celebrate my supposed (but not real, not by a long shot) freedom is to listen to the "Throwback Thursday" mix on 100.3 The Beat on the drive home from class.

This evening, the DJ only played songs by female artists or girl groups. We're talking "I'm So Into You" by SWV, "Don't Walk Away" by Jade, "Aint Too Proud to Beg" by TLC, "Shoop" by Salt 'n Pepa, "Hey Mr. DJ" by Zhané, "No, No, No" by Destiny's Child and so forth. Those were my JAMS back in the day. Fellow listeners were calling in, telling the DJs that they were about to pull their cars over. That's how good the mix was, folks.

I don't know what it was about this kind of R&B in junior high, but I barely listened to anything else...except rap. That's pure craziness, considering I grew up in a small town in Southern Illinois. On rainy nights, my radio could pick up 107.9, otherwise known as MAJIC 108, in St. Louis. I would tape whatever rap I could get my hands on...2Pac, Das EFX, Digable Planets, etc.

My mom took me to all the concerts: Hammer, Shai, Silk, Boyz II Men, Bel Biv Devoe (that wasn't raunchy AT ALL), En Vogue, Brandy, Janet Jackson... I honestly have no idea what my problem was.

But, it sure is fun to go back and hear those songs. And PS - isn't it amazing how one has the ability to bust out the lyrics as soon as the song comes on the radio, despite the fact that one hasn't heard the song in maybe a decade? The brain is an amazing thing.

So, to start my weekend the right way, I'm putting my MTV Party To Go: 5 CD in the player right now. It has great dance remixes for SWV's "Weak" and Tag Team's "Whoomp! There It is." And I think I've got Zhané somewhere around here, too. Unless I passed it on to my mom.

Happy weekend!

Procrastination device of the day...

Check out celebrity face recognition! You can submit a picture with other people in it. And the results change with every new picture. Here are some early findings:

Best friend Vanessa: Cybill Shephard, Alicia Silverstone, Holly Marie Combs, Helen Hunt, and Faye Dunaway

Picture #1 for me: Sigourney Weaver, Reese Witherspoon, Carrie Underwood, Tara Reid, some dude, and a bunch of other people I've never heard of

Picture #2 for me: Kelly Clarkson, Charlize Theron, Liv Tyler, Rene Russo, Kate Winslet, Liza Minnelli, and some other people I've never heard of

Go on, try it. Post your results.