I'm Sick Of Watching Divorce Court

I am ill.

There are 130 tissues in a box of Kleenex with lotion. I have used two full boxes since Tuesday and my hubs just went to get me more. I have watched about 30 episodes of Divorce Court, several terrible Lifetime movies and tried to read a Dr. Seuss book to the baby in my stomach but it gave me a headache after four pages.

I am totally lucky to have power and heat, as much of the city doesn't after a huge snow/ice storm. But I'm still feeling sorry for myself today. I'd much rather be at work or traipsing around in snow and ice than feeling like a bag of shit for the fifth day in a row.

Woe is me. Please, antibiotics, start working soon.

Is this a sign?

Happy new year!

I'm sad to report that our giant, LCD TV is experiencing serious issues -- which means I'm also having some serious issues. Long story short, I get sound from the TV, but no picture. But I do get a picture when I watch DVDS. Weird.

Whether it's a problem with the cable box, or a problem with the TV itself (which is still under warranty, thank God), nobody is in any office to help me today.

Which means I'll have to watch one of the other, smaller, non-HD TVs while I take down the Christmas tree, fold laundry and weed out some of my clothes to give away. This may not sound like a big deal to you. Before we got this TV, I wouldn't have thought so, either.

But after watching insanely crisp television for almost a year, this is like going from prime rib to Steak-Ums. Or from a fabulous pair of pumps to grungy Birkenstocks. Or from a Bentley to a 1987 Ford Festiva.

Plus, my husband is out of town right now, so the only place I'll get to see him is on the tube, and I want to see him BIG.

Are the gods of "You Should Read More Often" fucking with me? Probably. But hey, you can't read while you fold laundry and put Christmas back in a box, so what the hell am I supposed to do?

Oh well. If this is my biggest problem for 2009, I feel pretty fortunate. Thanks for listening.

Cheers, everybody!

See ya, Bernie

I admit it: I was probably late coming to the Bernie Mac party.

The first time I heard him do stand-up was in during the 2000 The Original Kings of Comedy documentary. From the moment I saw that movie, Mac shot up my list of favorite funny guys.

It wasn't just his knack for storytelling, or his crazy facial expressions or his profanity-laden routines. He spoke the absolute truth in hilarious ways and he didn't apologize for it. "I'm saying what you're scared to say," he said in Kings. "Fun is fun. Jokes is jokes. This is just expression."

And when he finally scored his own sitcom, The Bernie Mac Show on Fox, we saw another side of him: A man who is just as ridiculously talented, even without the cussing and sex jokes.

So when I heard Saturday morning that he'd died, I was shocked and sad, and most of all, pissed that I'd never get to him utter another perfectly-delivered joke.

When I'm done being sad, though, I'll laugh. Because, of course, that's what Bernie would have wanted.

Here are five things I learned from Bernie Mac.

1. It's OK to want nice stuff. The premise of the award-winning The Bernie Mac Show is that he and his wife take in his sister's three kids (Vanessa, Jordan and Bryana) while she's in rehab. In the first episodes, the kids arrive to the house and he gives them a tour. When he gets to the media room, he says this:
"You are not to touch my stuff without my permission...Don't' touch my TV. Don't touch my DVD. Don't touch my dual-deck VCR. Don't touch the remote that works the TV, DVD, and dual deck VCR. Don't even look at it. When you walk past it, close your eyes. Don't touch my old school, my new school, my slow jams, my party jams, my happy rap, and you betta not touch my James Brown of somebody's gonna get hurt."
Lesson: Electronics and music are expensive and can be sentimental as well. Kids need to learn this from an early age.

2. Don't take your mom for granted.
Bernie Mac's comedy often was brash, largely based on his impatience with, well, everything. But at the end of the day, he was a nice guy with a big heart. When he was interviewed on the Tavis Smiley's show, he told a story about what made him want to do comedy: His mother, who died when he was a high school sophomore, was sick with breast cancer. He was sitting on her lap, and she was crying. Then, Bill Cosby came on TV and his mother was able to laugh. The little Mac told her: "I'm gonna be a comedian, so you'll never cry again."
Lesson: I continue to be grateful my mother is still alive after she suffered a traumatic brain injury in 1995. I try to make her laugh as much as possible.

3. Life is funny. Bernie Mac wrote comedy about real life, often about his colorful family. He reminded me that when the world is going nuts around you, it's not only advisable, but necessary to have a sense of humor about it. And that's truly therapeutic when you have a small family with a high concentration of crazies (mom not included), or a job that can produce its fair share of lunatics.
Lesson: As long as I present the information in the right way, I may not have to wait for my whole family to pass on before writing a book loosely based on them.

4. Cake is dangerous. During my favorite episode of his sitcom, "Now You Got It," Bernie takes every precaution to keep from getting sick when all the kids from Bryana's birthday party are passing around cold germs (which were visable, flourescent green floaties in the show). Relieved that the shindig is finally over, Mac goes to the kitchen and eats a piece of birthday cake -- which, of course, is coated with the germs because a kid had sneezed all over it. Mac is forced to stay home with Bryana instead of going to Las Vegas with his friends.
Lesson: Not only does cake have a lot of calories, it can keep you from winning a lot of money at Blackjack or running into K-Fed at Pure.

5. Tough love is the way to go. I cringe when I see parents let bratty kids call the shots or run loose like wild banshees. (If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: Going to Wal-Mart on a Saturday is the best birth control in the world.) Mac might have been a little tough on the kids in his show, but at least he was invested in what they were doing. And when it mattered (such as when his sister stood up her children for visits), he was a nurturing uncle who tended to the kids' physical and emotional wounds.
Lesson: There's a happy medium between old-school child-rearing and being considered a "cool parent." (Someone remind me of this when I have kids, because I'm kind of a pushover.)

See ya in the funny papers, Uncle Bernie.

The world is a less funny place

Bernie Mac died today. I actually cried about this one. He was one of my all-time favorites.

First George Carlin, now this. Summer 2008 has been a crappy time for comedy fans.

The hunchback of Louisville

Summary haiku:
Big purses hold a
lot of stuff. That stuff weighs tons.
My shoulders are mad.


I've read tons of stories about how women injure themselves by carrying giant bags and thought, "Huh. That makes sense." Still, I carry them.

But for the past week, my upper back and neck feel like they've been stomped on by a herd of buffalo, then tied in a thousand knots immediately after the trampling. When I try to put my shoulders back in order to achieve good posture, it's feels like I'm pouring gasoline on my neck and setting myself aflame.

Here are the things that I carry in my purse pretty much every day:

1. Keys

2. A giant wallet, which ironically, never contains cash. Just ID; credit cards; frequent buyer cards for Borders, PetsMart, Qdoba, etc.

3. Cell phone

4. MP3 player

5. Camera (I often take pics of things I might need for my shopping job, so I don't forget what they look like.)

6. About 20 pens

7. Band-Aids (In case my shoes maim my feet during the day.)

8. Aspirin

9. Hairbrush

10. About 5 colors of lipgloss/lipstick, as well as a tin of Smith's Rosebud Salve.

11. A book of carbon receipts I use when I borrow stuff from stores to put in the paper.

12. Is this getting ridiculous yet?

13. Reporter notebook

14. A bunch of other stuff rolling around in the bottom.


Here are the things I actually need in my purse at all times:

1. Keys

2. Small wallet

3. Phone

4. One pen



On top of this, I'm always carrying around a bunch of crap in and out of stores, to and from photo shoots. I need a massage. Now. Right now!

And I'm switching over to a smaller purse tomorrow. Maybe even something drastic, like a clutch! But so help me, if I end up needing a Hello Kitty Band-Aid and it's not on my person, I'm gonna be pissed.

Congratulations, you're not blind!

Summary haiku:
My sunburn may as
well be a celebrity.
Quit staring at it!


Yesterday, I went to lunch with a friend. We ate outside. I ended up with a raging sunburn on one of my shoulders, where my scoop neck shirt didn't quite cover.

It hurts. Really, really bad (especially when my seatbelt rubs against it). But not as bad as people who think they're so clever as to comment on the obvious. "Hey! Do you know you've got a sunburn?"

Hey! Fuck you!

People lecture you on the obvious. "The sun's not good for your skin." "Wow, that's gonna be painful for a couple of days." "Geez, one shoulder? You look all lopsided."

Like I meant for it to happen. Now everyone is pointing and staring as though I have a fucking lilac bush growing out of my shoulder.

Even a little old man at the gym! He said, "Is that a sunburn? I almost didn't want to ask you because it's such an intense red, I thought it might be a birthmark." Sheesh!

Gotta go get some aloe.

This is why I don't go camping

Summary haiku:

Ticks: evil little
beasts reside in nature. I
don't need hangers-on.


Anyone who knows me is aware that I'm not an outdoorsy person. Sure, I enjoy mountain biking and hiking and boating and whitewater rafting. But when the activity is done, I want to be back in my house, showering and sleeping in my bed like a civilized person.

I've been camping twice, and they both rank as two of my five most miserable experiences in life. (Others include waiting for my mom to wake up from a coma, getting my wisdom teeth pulled and something else of a more personal nature.)

So imagine my horror when I discovered a tick implanted in my scalp last night. What the hell? I haven't even been outside like that -- where did I pick up this blood-sucking passenger?

Then I realized: It was at the dog park, where there are tons of trees and tall, bushy grasses. The dogs are protected with their Frontline, but me? I was a sitting target, especially when I decided to go frolic with them instead of sitting on the bench, on the big cement patch.

I was totally grossed out and panicking inside, but I think I seemed quite calm. Anyway, we removed the tick, and I'm sure all will be fine. But the top of my head is sore and I'm still totally creeped out by that little motherfucker. *Shudder*

So, here's hoping I don't have Lyme disease or Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever! And guess what I bought today? A new ballcap, which I will wear every time I go to the dog park... along with a body condom and 10 layers of Off!

Sorry Mother Nature, but all creatures are not created equal.

(P.S. I don't have a will yet, so if I die, Wendy and Elana can split my shoe collection. Joli, Michelle and Javacia can divvy up my jewelry. I want "Damn It Feels Good to Be a Gangsta" by the Geto Boys played at my funeral, and to be buried with my Tim Gunn bobblehead.)

A case of the Mondays

... and it's Tuesday. So not fair.

I'm incapable of stringing together a paragraph after having a pretty crappy day. My lovely friend Javacia loves to make lists (and so do I), so I'm taking a cue from her today.



Things I would rather do than relive today, which left me deflated and super unmotivated:

1. Eat a foot sandwich, slathered in mayonnaise, on rye bread.

2. Apply liquid eyeliner, which always takes me about an hour to get right.

3. Wait in line at the St. Matthews post office.

4. Drive through Wyoming, the most boring and worthless state in the U.S.

5. Root for the Green Bay Packers.

6. Balance my checkbook.

7. Run my fingers through Bret Michaels' "hair."

8. Sit through a Dave Matthews Band concert. ... No, scratch that one. I'd rather redo today.

9. Wear skinny jeans.

10. Paint another room in my house.

Tomorrow has got to be better. Right?

Lists instead of booze. Let's give it a whirl.

You know, it's hard to stay upbeat and motivated when "one of those days" turns into "one of those weeks." And then months. I'm turning into Debbie Downer and I'm only 2 months into this year.

So in an attempt to pull out of the soul-sucking funk -- at least for tonight -- I'm making a list of things that make me happy. (I'd rather drink, but frankly, I don't need the calories or the hangover.)


1. My husband. After almost 8 years of being a couple, our relationship just keeps getting better. (Too bad he's in Bloomington for work tonight.)

2. My mom. No matter how shitty my days are, she suffers the effects of a traumatic brain injury every, single day. I have no right to complain.

3. Watching Lucy and Archie play tug-of-war and keep away with a rope toy. At least someone is having fun. And related to this, it warms my heart to see Archie's stumpy little tail wag back and forth in a perfectly even line. It looks like a windshield wiper.

4. Friends. I have great friends in Louisville. But last night I spent four hours on the phone with two of my closest friends from home, Wendy and Lisa. It's a nice reality check to talk to people who have known you for 15 years.

5. The Las Vegas trip that fell into my lap. Totally random, but I'm meeting my friend Beth in Vegas in a month. I need something to look forward to right now.

6. My house. It feels good just to say it. MY house. Not a house I'm renting from someone else. Mine, mine, mine!

7. My shoes. I know it's superficial, but shoes always make me feel pretty, even when I don't like the way my clothes are fitting.

8. My determination. Speaking of ill-fitting clothes, they are looking better lately. I've lost 11.5 pounds in six weeks. Probably could have lost a few more, but I had a shitty time last week and splurged on a couple of bottles of wine. And some Girl Scout cookies. But I'm back on the wagon again -- and I'm so fucking tired of baby carrots.

9. Having a sense of humor. If not for that, I'd probably be in a loony bin. Which is where I feel like I belong some days.

Huh. I was shooting for 10 things, but that's all I can really come up with for now -- and that last one was a stretch. I guess it's better than nothing.