So it's NOT just cleverly hidden state workers

Sorry to pick on you again, state employees. You're my favorite target because both my mother and my sister are state employees. They get to stay home when the weather gets bad and they have three months in the summer to watch "Maury" reruns and go to the pool while I spend another 50 hours a week winning bread. They also have an undetermined number of holidays they get off from work. Who knew this state honored the spotted owl? I didn't.

"You are NOT the father."

Again?!

So, today, I learned on CNN.com that about one-third of us sleep at work.

Survey: One-third of workers catching zzz's on job

I'm in the two-thirds that don't. Mostly because I've never figured out exactly how to pull it off and still keep my job. I can admit to times, though, where I've lost 15 minutes just spacing out. Maybe that's sleeping. But I know that at least twice in the past year, I've put my head in my hands to look DOWN at a piece of paper that I needed and *poof* ... there just went 30 minutes.

Maybe it's because I have a woobie. And a heater. And when I get a woobie and a heater, it's a bad combination. I'm wearing the woobie. I have the heater on. I bet I could lose 30 minutes right ... now ...

Two separate, yet equal, things that have just pissed me right off so far today

Lemme ask you something ... And be honest. I could be crazy, here.

Does this offend you?

That's a picture of a sign from an advertising campaign by Sheetz, which is a Pennsylvania-based convenience store chain.

Crispy frickin' chicken!

Pretty harmless, right? Maybe even a little funny?

Not according to one guy. And as we all know, ONE guy is enough to ruin even the best party.

Frickin' ads catch more than attention

OK, in the interest of full disclosure, I don't like Sheetz.

I freaking LOVE it.

If the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would allow me to enter into marriage with Sheetz, it easily would become my second husband. Any man who entertains dating me is made aware, up front, that they're No. 2 in my heart to Sheetz. And God help him if we don't stop at Sheetz if we pass one along the way on a road trip. Deal breaker. It's over. You're out.

I've actually go so far as to map out routes BASED on where you can find ... a Sheetz.

As Sweet Ann pointed out this morning, when one of our friends on the Groundhog Day trip got sick from her Sheetz sandwich, I actually said, "If I ever got sick from something I ate at Sheetz, I'd apologize to Sheetz for being weak."

But, really, that's not the point here. The point?

Let me use this to set it up and drive it home.

It's too close to a certain four-letter-word that Sherri and Michael Sucec used to use before they were saved, a word that commonly means having sex. When the Sucecs noticed the Sheetz billboard in Derry Twp., they called and wrote their complaints to Sheetz.

"If we have any sanity left in the United States of America, this is totally unacceptable," Michael Sucec told the Derry Twp. supervisors Tuesday night, speaking with the Bible on his podium. He appealed to the supervisors' sensibilities, hoping they would help remove the billboard.

No, Michael. If we have any sanity left in the United States of America, people like you will SHUT YOUR FRICKIN' MOUTH. If we have any sanity left in the United States, we stop throwing hissy fits every time something doesn't fall within the neat packaging our moral compass fits inside.

It isn't like you've got a naked chick covering herself in wing sauce to get you to eat this sandwich, people. It isn't like they used the mother of all curse words that starts with an F. It isn't like they're making sweet, passionate love to a piece of breaded poultry. No wang was harmed, or seen, in the making of his ad.

Really, Michael? Everything that's wrong morally in this world and you're taking umbrage with "frickin'"?

You don't like the billboard? Ignore it. Accept it for the temporary medium it is. In fact, Michael, you've totally done exactly what marketing geniuses at Sheetz would hope -- by you BITCHING and WHINING like a vadge, you got your name in the paper. Congratulations. You also helped Sheetz get people into their stores to see what the big frickin' deal is.

And, as my hero Paul Harvey would say, Page Two:

I have a giant, crippling fear of public marriage proposals. I mean, even thinking about it to write this blog is causing hives to break out on my right arm. I wish I was kidding about this, because hives are amazingly unsexy.

I didn't know this little factoid, but apparently on Leap Day (which for those of you playing along at home, is today) women have the right to ask their special dude to marry them.

Why in God's name you need a "special" day to make this happen is beyond me. Maybe it's because I don't think like a typical woman. I think that if I was in love with someone enough that I wanted to marry them, in my low-key way I'd be like, "Hey, I just saw that 'Ghostbusters' is on at 8 and 'Ghostbusters II' is on at 10! Badass!! You know what else would be awesome? If you'd marry me."

I don't think I'd ever get to that point, though. Most men I know are so protective of that kind of moment that I wouldn't want to take it from them. And besides, to beat a trendy new adage into the ground, if I was dating a man for a long, extended period of time and he hadn't addressed it, I'd be willing to believe that he's "just not that into me."

Some people aren't into marriage, and I'm 100 percent in favor of that. Clearly, I'm no example of "how-to" when it comes to the marriage department. Some of the happiest, most functional couples I know have been together years and years and never got married. I can't say I'll ever get married again. That doesn't mean that I won't fall in love and spend the rest of my life with someone -- it means that I'll never again feel the need to take it to that "formalization" step.

But this girl ... oof. She not only felt the need to drive it to that step, but do it in a really, really public manner.

Hey, Sean: Will You Marry Me?

You don't get much more public than the New York Daily News with its circulation well over a million. And you don't get much more public than a followup appearance on "The Today Show."

Which, for your viewing pleasure, by the way:



Am I the only person who senses his visible, rampant discomfort? He's so uncomfortable it's like he's sitting with a hot metal poker going straight in the back door. He may as well have worn a sandwich board that said, "I had no choice but to say yes."

She's oblivious to his suffering right now. This was at 7:45 a.m. I can guarantee now, almost three hours later, she's well aware of it.

To use a phrase I use often, "This will not end well."

Why would you put someone through this? I'm for creative proposals and all, but not in front of millions of people. I guess I'm a traditionalist in that I think that's a really private moment.

I'm really mad at this woman. Not good form, Marina. Not good form at all.

I love this freakin' paper!

Fake Jessica "roots" for the Cowboys, in an elaborate jinx hatched by the Post to help the Giants. Tony Romo tends to preform poorly with a Blonde singing girlfriend in attendance at one of his games.

The New York Post ... serious Giants fans. So much so that they put a fake Jessica Simpson at the Giants-Cowboys game yesterday.

'Boys Seeing Double: Post's 'Jess' Helps Giants KO Dallas

That might be enough to make the Giants my new favorite team.

OK, I lied. THIS is the best headline ever.

From today's Charleston Daily Mail:

Man accused of hiding meat in his pants

It's like Christmas came early for me.

And now, a fun picture of bologna:

Best. Headline. Ever.

Check out this awesome story from today's New York Post!

It just made my Wednesday, and it's only 9:17 a.m.!

I still haven't found what I'm looking for ...

Like the sun. No sun yet. Nope. None.

But -- all in all -- not having as bad a day as these guys:

Tractor-trailer driver and passenger both in critical condition after plunge into river

This happened RIGHT OUTSIDE my office window this morning. We still can't figure out how we didn't HEAR this thing fly OFF THE INTERSTATE and drop 80 feet to U.S. Route 60 below and then roll into the river.

Crazy. This is far superior to the Spilled Milk Incident of 2005 when the milk tanker overturned on the bridge and its contents flowed off the bridge like a delicious milk waterfall.

Oh, what the hell?! Now this?!

Rest In Peace, Mr. Whipple.

Prisoners have it better than you

Note to self: When you get locked up for something unique, be lucky enough that you committed the crime in Clayton County, Ga.

Clayton prison requests satellite TV for inmates

By MEGAN MATTEUCCI
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Published on: 11/13/07
The latest management tool to settle prison squabbles could be "Monday Night Football."
The Clayton County Correctional Institution asked the County Commission on Tuesday to order DIRECTV for the Lovejoy prison.
Warden Frank Taylor Smith said inmates have been grumbling since "Monday Night Football" moved from ABC to ESPN.
"The reason is 'Monday Night Football' is now on cable," he said. "Although it might seem funny, when you have 90 percent of inmates watching something, it is a management tool for the institution."
The direct-broadcast satellite service — less than $100 a month — will be paid for from money collected at the prison's commissary and pay phones. Last year, the prison collected $41,000 from the inmate commissary and telephones but spent only a quarter of that money on inmate welfare, Smith said.
The 226 inmates housed in the facility's five dormitories now have the option of watching two channels, but half the time the reception is poor.
"It's a very routine thing. Every state prison has cable or DIRECTV," Smith said. "We have an antenna now."
Smith told the commission that all state prisons and 90 percent of county institutions have either cable or satellite TV.
However, Georgia Department of Corrections officials say that is not correct.
"No prisoners have DIRECTV. Television is a privilege," said Tracy Smith, a state corrections spokeswoman. "Our televisions have antennas."
The state pays a stipend to Clayton County to house inmates in the medium security prison, which serves as a work camp to provide labor for the county's public works, water authority, landfill and other departments. County officials say they save $1.4 million annually by using inmate labor.
The Clayton County Commission will vote on the DIRECTV proposal next week.

... what part of "you're in jail because you committed a crime and you don't deserve all of the things people who aren't in jail have" did I miss?

Well, this explains it!

(Note to readers: That thing below -- yeah, that's the body I got cursed with. No matter how many miles I run, no matter how many squats I do, no matter how many Pilates classes I take, that doesn't change. Today's events, however, have led me to perhaps embrace my lot in life, because current scientific research answers a lot of my questions. HELL YEAH!!)


From today's New York Post ...

The Wider Gals' Hips, The Higher Their IQ: Report

Who's a bowling pin genius? WHO??

Or ... what has two thumbs and looks like a bowling pin but is real smart?

THIS GIRL!!

Give it up, bro

Julie sent me a story from Newsweek online today about -- man boobs.

Not a tasty post-lunch treat, that's for sure. But it's kind of interesting.

Most of us would naturally presume that man boobs show up because you get fat. And while yeah, that's true, it's not just because you're packing it on, it's because of the estrogen that extra fat brings with it. I was fascinated.

Anyway, if you're interested, you can read the entire article here. It's actually pretty interesting, but I'm a science geek. And it contains the pop-culture "Seinfeld" reference to the "bro."

Ten more simple rules to live by

My friend Amber sent me a story today from the London Daily Mail. A mafia Godfather was arrested in Sicily, and when they took him into custody, they found the Ten Commandments of mafioso.

It's always good to be more informed than less informed, you know.

The 10 'Mafiosi' commandments are:

1. No one can present himself directly to another of our friends. There must be a third person to do it.

2. Never look at the wives of friends.

3. Never be seen with cops.

4. Don't go to pubs and clubs.

5. Always be available for Cosa Nostra, even if your wife's about to give birth.

6. Appointments must be respected.

7. Wives must be treated with respect.

8. When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth.

9. Money cannot be appropriated if it belongs to others or to other families.

10. People who can't be part of Cosa Nostra are anyone with a close relative in the police, with a two-timing relative in the family, anyone who behaves badly and doesn't hold to moral values.

Ooof. I'm gonna have a problem with 3, 4 and 6 ...

Reason No. 1,724 why I love the New York Post

Excellence in headline writing, served fresh daily.

Follow up file: You're suing the wrong guy, Amy.

Ah, friends. It's time for another visit from the Lou-meister. And now, it's getting even better.

You know how you ask yourself, "Could this get any better?"

It just has.

For those of you who are new, we've previously established that Lou Bellera, husband of Amy Fisher, shouldn't be trusted under any circumstances.

The reason?

1. His name is Lou.

2. That hair is a dead giveaway.

3. Those f-ing sunglasses.

I also learned that Lou used to be a cop. This may open up a whole new category of men that shouldn't be trusted (in addition to the universally accepted men with two first names, men with stand alone moustaches and men who have, or used to have, mullets), but more on that should the need arise.

Today, TMZ.com (a site to which I am hopelessly addicted) reports that Amy and her husband have filed suit in federal court in New York to stop the distribution of this tape.

Here's where I really wish I lived on Long Island and Amy and I could push our carts around at King Kullen and talk this through. I'd talk to her about what was bothering me that day, likely that I had to wait 35 minutes to get my acrylics filled at the strip mall that morning and that my Dolce and Gabbana velvet track suit was STILL at the cleaners after one of the twins threw up all over it ... again ... at the Catholic school fundraiser. Then I'd be quiet and listen to what was troubling her. In this case, she'd clearly be the winner.

I'd tell her that she's suing the wrong person.

I mean, I'm no lawyer, but I'd say the problem here far more rests with her douchewagon of a husband than the distributor. I mean, after all, he sold it to them fair and square as a way to get back at his estranged wife. He knew exactly what he was doing when he sold it.

In the lawsuit (which you can read at TMZ.com), it says that he didn't have the right to sell it without her permission, so when he did it, he wasn't cleared to do so, so the distributor can't legally distribute what they technically weren't able to legally buy in the first place.

Oh, COME ON.

I would tell Amy while we hung out at Starbucks that afternoon that I respect being through a lot with your man, and I understand wanting to keep your family in tact, but some things are unforgivable. His hair is unforgivable, but let's look past the physical for a minute. I stand by what I said earlier -- I'd f-ing kill him. I wouldn't need a lawyer to stop the tape, I'd need a lawyer to stop me from 20 to life at Albion for dismembering my husband in a way that people only write books about.

I would say, Amy, you said that you just wanted to hide out in your house and let this blow over (pardon the pun). Filing a lawsuit trying to block something that probably can't be stopped at this point isn't the way to have that happen.

You also may want to read my various writings on the specific types of men to NOT trust. You're lax in that department.

'Local Lawmaker Punished for Honesty'

So, my political leanings aren't what you'd call "run of the mill."

On paper, I'm Libertarian. Basically, I'm kind of like, "OK, government, build my roads and stuff, but I can take care of me. Really. Just back off."

Socially, I'm very liberal. Fiscally, I'm very conservative. This often provides great fire for debate.

However, liberal or conservative, Republican or Democrat, you get my undying support if you're just honest.

Let's take my pal, beleaguered Republican Idaho Sen. Larry Craig for example.

Dude, it's cool. You were trolling for ass in an airport bathroom. I'm for you and your right to happiness. Just don't be a douche about it when you're caught. Nut up. Take responsibility. Move on. Don't go on TV and cry. Don't toss about the idea of rehab. For the love of God, don't say you've found Jesus. Just shrug your shoulders, smile sheepishly and say, "Eeesh, sorry 'bout that. It seemed like a great idea at the time."

That's why this story caught my eye:

OLYMPIA, Wash. (AP) - Minority House Republicans, already reeling from a sex scandal that prompted one member to quit, have severely disciplined a Vancouver lawmaker for inappropriate remarks to a female staffer.
Rep. Jim Dunn was stripped of all committee assignments on Monday, and will be required to attend sensitivity training, said House Minority Leader Richard DeBolt, R-Chehalis. Dunn had been the ranking Republican on the Housing Committee, and sat on the powerful House spending committee.
"We know that society has moved beyond off-color remarks between men and women," DeBolt said Monday evening. "We're big kids, so we need to act like that."
The strength of the discipline raised the possibility that Dunn could resign.
Dunn, reached at home Monday evening, said he had not read DeBolt's letter of reprimand. Dunn said he had no plans to resign.
Dunn said he already has apologized to the woman who was the target of his remark, which came at a gathering after a House Appropriations subcommittee meeting in the Tri-Cities last week.
Dunn also said he could not exactly recall what he said to the woman, but said he was "sure it was very inappropriate, because I do that kind of thing." He also acknowledged it could have been interpreted as sexual harassment.

Thank you, Jim Dunn. Thank you for your honesty. Rather than hemming and hawing and giving a bunch of "aww, jeez, I mean, Um ... well, I wouldn't say ... well, in that context, um, uhhh," you stood up and said (in some fashion), "Yeah, it's not UNlike me to call someone sugartits."

I salute you.

I always miss the good stuff

I'm forced to ask ...

Why do I NEVER see anything like this?

From my hometown paper, The Intelligencer of Wheeling, W.Va.:

Monkey Truck Barrel Rolls

ST. CLAIRSVILLE — Fifty-three monkeys and two people were involved in a two-vehicle accident Thursday on Interstate 70.

Virginia resident Kyle MacDougall, 24, was cited for not assuring a clear distance ahead after his vehicle struck a van while traveling east on I-70 near exit 213. The accident occurred about 6 p.m.

MacDougall was not injured, and the driver of the van was transported to Wheeling Hospital to be checked out, officials said. The monkeys were believed to be uninjured.

The pickup truck and trailer MacDougall was driving jackknifed, causing him to lose control, travel off the interstate and end up in a grassy area along the exit 213 off ramp. The trailer remained upright, but the pickup overturned.

The trailer MacDougall was towing with his pickup truck contained 53 monkeys, mainly African Green and Rhesus monkeys, said Penny Miller, director of the Oglebay Good Zoo.

Miller initially was called to the scene to help transport the monkeys to her zoo temporarily. However, the owner of the monkeys, whose name was not available at press time, decided to retrieve the animals himself. The owner had a three-hour trip, as he was in Pennsylvania, possibly in the city of Hazelton, said Ohio State Highway Patrol Sgt. Jim Tracy.

Trooper Jeff Herink said the vehicle and trailer were listed as owned by Unique Carriers, based in Florida.

Miller noted the type of monkeys being transported typically are used for research, including by pharmaceutical companies. Troopers at the scene would not confirm whether the animals were heading for such a facility, but other officials at the scene said they believed the monkeys were being taken to a lab in Maryland.

“Right now we’re waiting for the owner to come with a trailer, load up the monkeys and move on,” said Trooper Dennis Wilcox.

While waiting for help to arrive, MacDougall periodically checked on the monkeys, which were in crates made of wood and metal. He entered the rear door of the trailer, but first placed a mask over his mouth and nose. Tracy said there was no danger of the monkeys passing any illness to humans, saying that the mask was being worn as a precaution.

“There are no health concerns whatsoever,” Tracy said.

A heater was placed inside the damaged trailer to keep the animals warm.

I'm only on that interstate at least ONCE a month and all I see are Ohio State Troopers and people driving too slow in the left lane. I never see overturned monkey trucks! Ever! AUGH!

Follow up file: I'd f-ing kill him.

In today's edition of the best newspaper ever -- the New York Post -- they ran a follow up article to yesterday's Amy Fisher news.

In this latest article, Lou ... Remember Lou?
You know.

Lou.

And you shouldn't trust Lou because:

1. His name is Lou.

2. Hair!

3. Sunglasses.

Anyway ...

Lou says he regrets hawking their bedroom vids in anger. He was just mad that Amy was seeing Joey again (which, OK, I'm FOR you on that, Lou, I really am!) so he acted out in anger and decided that the only thing that would make him feel better during a divorce from a notorious woman would be cash and fringe fame.

Here's where I get real pissed ...

It's bad enough he sold it to a distributor. It's even worse that they got back together shortly thereafter and he didn't tell her about it UNTIL A MONTH OR SO AGO.

"I did it out of the heat of anger and passion," Bellera told The Post.

"We were estranged. She was seeing Joey. I was seething about the whole thing. It just came to a point where I was hurt and embarrassed by it . . . and it pressed the wrong button. I just used that as a vehicle to strike back at her."

You know what I'd use as my vehicle to strike back at you, Lou? A Sherman tank. With a big, giant, sharp, pointy knife on the end.

Fisher said she was willing to forgive her husband.

"We've been together for so many years and have had so many ups and downs," she said. ". . . I don't want to see it. It's better for me if I just don't think about it. I'm just going to hide in my house."

Amy, you're a better woman than I am. That man would be bleeding in the front yard in a few hundred pieces if I would have been on the receiving end of that. But, I'm hoping you take away a few lessons from this.

1. Videotape nothing ever, ever again. Lou hoses you once, Lou will hose you again.

2. Never underestimate guilt as a weapon.

3. You are totally in the clear to be as bad as you want for pretty much the rest of your life. If you're called out on it, you clearly have the response of, "Yeah, well, at least I didn't sell our sex tape."

Siiiiigh.

Sleeping with the enemy

OK, my love of Amy Fisher is both mocked and legendary. If Amy Fisher would call me tonight, I'd hang out with her this weekend. We could go to the strip mall, get our nails did, have some Italian food and polish off a bottle or two of pinot noir ... I really think we could be friends.

Meet my new enemy. This is Lou. Lou is Amy's husband.

Reasons to not trust Lou:


1. His name is Lou.

2. Look at that hair.

3. Those sunglasses.

But I digress.

Lou and Amy were in the midst of a fun divorce. Granted, it probably didn't help Amy much when she and Joey rekindled their Long Island love story for about 38 minutes this past summer, but after cooler heads and sobriety prevailed, Amy and Joey both went back to their respective spouses.

But according to today's edition of the New York Post, Lou took matters into his own hands. He was going to do divorce the American way. And as we all know, in America the one thing that can ease all pain and suffering is ...

Money!! Lots of it.

Lou and Amy, as wacky, in love, married couples tend to do, made themselves a video memento of their passion. Lou, scorned man that he was, decided to take revenge against his then-estranged wife by ... selling it.

But Lou didn't really think it through ... they got back together. And this company owns the tape.

That's gonna make the holidays a little awkward around the Bellara house.

That's right, kids. Now you, too, can own the Amy Fisher sex tape.

Here's the story from the Post:

October 29, 2007 -- The world soon could be seeing more of the Long Island Lolita - a lot more.
A sex tape of Amy Fisher and her husband, Lou Bellera, is in the hands of a Los Angeles porn distributor, and the onetime teen temptress isn't happy about it, her former business partner said yesterday.
Fisher and her husband apparently made the tape earlier this year, before they filed for divorce, according to David Krieff, a TV executive who has produced reunion specials with Fisher, her ex-lover Joey Buttafuoco and Buttafuoco's ex-wife, Mary Jo Buttafuoco.
But in the time Fisher and her hubby were in Splitsville, Bellera hawked the tape to L.A. smut peddler Red Light District Video, which is expected to start selling their steamy footage next month.
"I was told she was a willing participant at the time it was made, as a private video with her husband," Krieff said.
It wasn't until August that Fisher, who has since reconciled with Bellera, learned of the Red Light deal and wants to stop the video's release.
"She's disgusted," Krieff said. "I'm disgusted by it, too, the whole genre. I can't believe in the United States of America things like this can be released.
"I feel bad for Amy and Lou," Krieff added. "I think they were having a fight and he made a bad decision that's coming back to haunt them now."

A bad decision? To me, a bad decision is eating Chinese food from a place called "Wok and Roll." A bad decision is seeing any movie with Christian Slater. A bad decision was the third "Major League" movie.

I'm not sure I could forgive him for this. If I were hanging out with Amy tonight, I'd tell her to send his goldbricking ass packing. I'd buy her some chianti and we'd rent DVDs and paint our toenails. She doesn't need Lou. She doesn't need any guy who'd do that.

But the lessons to be learned?

1. Videotape NOTHING. It's not a good idea. It's never a good idea. There is not a single shred of good in anything like that being videotaped.

2. Write nothing down.

3. Deny. Deny. Deny.

And don't date dudes named Lou with hair like that.

I want this girl to get run over

I saw this on FARK.com and immediately wished something really, really bad would happen to her:

Guest Column: Sorry, but this bikini stays on

By: Stacy Jacobson
Posted: 10/18/07

The Playboy Big Ten edition has come to Evanston. I'm sure by now you've read the news story about the NU casting calls, or you've heard your friends talking about it over lunch. They might say how "no one at Northwestern would ever do that," or how Playboy is insulting the integrity of NU students.

In the past, I've been asked if I ever would do Playboy (I've also been asked if I'd ever get a breast reduction). My answer will always be a firm "no." I believe in the sanctity of nudity and the idea that it's between only you and another - not any pre-pubescent boy locked in a bathroom looking through his father's stash. But I couldn't turn a chance at journalism down, just to get a taste of the other side (without that side being full frontal).

When I told my mother, she shrieked, "What?!" I assured her my morals were intact, and that it was only for a newspaper commentary. She said, "OK, but I'm not telling your father."

After registering online, the producer, Cynthia, called me. I was to come to the Hilton Garden Inn on Maple Avenue bearing a bikini and heels (classy, huh?). Later, her innocent Chicago accent and eagerness to meet me would reveal a maternal instinct as she sweet-talked me into taking provocative photos. Nice.

In preparation, I decided on a turquoise bohemian print two-piece I'd ordered from Victoria's Secret. My mind filled with questions. Do I want drastic hair and make-up? Will I look tacky? Is it even possible to be Playboy chic?

On the morning of the interview, I faced the mirror. To match my suit and to emphasize the overdone vibe, I lined my eyes with a blue-green pencil. I applied navy and green eye shadows that looked surprisingly natural (I'm not used to this va-va-voom stuff). To finish, I put on long, dangling silver earrings.

Down Sheridan Road I went, in my terry-cloth sweats, gray T-shirt and made-up face. While carrying my school bag with my four-subject notebook and a globalization case study on one arm, I lugged a plastic CVS bag holding my bikini and taupe sling backs on the other.

Once there, I realized the room Cynthia so calmly offered me was a private suite rather than a banquet room. Things just got creepier.

I filled out forms and changed in the bedroom before Rudi, the photographer, entered. The usual boy-on-the-beach gawk I often get - it starts at my boobs and sometimes makes its way to my eyes - was absent. Instead, he mentioned my interest in sports. So, as I stood there in a triangle bikini and near-five inch heels, I gushed to him about my love for the Baltimore Ravens.

We shot about 10 poses. Rudi told me to place my hand on my hip, or lean against the wall and continuously chanted "smile big." Transferring to the bed seemed risqué, but I first just sat on my knees with my hands on my hips. The next pose, though, involved my body facing the wall as my head peered around at the camera. That one hit me. I wasn't just smiling at a camera. I was twisted into an unnatural position to try to tempt someone with my body. That's not me.

Yesterday, Cynthia called. Apparently, the Chicago offices "love" me and are offering me $1,500 for a full shoot Saturday. In her recurrent maternal tone, she told me how "cute" I am and how excited the head photographer sounded.

Each time I listened to her praises, I couldn't help but giggle. It all seemed funny to me! I'm just a 19-year-old girl, and I don't feel different than thousands of others at NU. In a college environment, we face sexuality issues everyday.

Long ago, I drew my line before pornography. But what about modeling in general? Does a seductive pose in a bra catalogue demean women in the same way? Is it solely the male reaction to different photos that determines acceptability?

I liked my body before the shoot, and I like my body now. I don't need Playboy to tell me they like it to make me like it. I could never use Playboy as the basis of my self-esteem.

So I guess this delves into the mind set of somebody who does pose for Playboy. Maybe she wants fame. Maybe she has likes having an international audience for her body. Maybe it gives her confidence. That's fine, and I respect her. Who am I to judge?

Yes, there are girls among us, just like at other schools, who would pose for Playboy. They'll also graduate from NU with degrees. Females can do what they want with their bodies. So if I wanted to be the next Playboy star, I guess I could consider NU my launching pad. I plan, however, to go elsewhere. I still need to call Cynthia to deliver the news. NU is launching me into a world of clothed, professional journalism.

... I really am speechless. I think I'll just let it go for itself.

Hangin' (out) in the gallows

A nearly 1o-year career in news will do that to you -- you develop a fantastic gallows sense of humor.

Amber's phone rings and she answers it. It's her husband Sam asking her a question about something he'd heard over at his job at University of Charleston.

She looks up at me and says, "Have you heard anything about somebody jumping off a bridge and getting hit by a car?"

My response?

"No, but that's a shitty way to start your Wednesday."

I'm going to hell ...

Finally, people who see it my way

HELL YEAH!

Swearing at work 'boosts team spirit, morale'

I mean, other than dropping the F-bomb in front of your CEO, of course. That's probably bad form. I wouldn't advise that. That may slow you down.