The results are in: You're not superficial!

In this week's poll question, I asked y'all:

Which would you rather have?

Here's how you voted:

A mate who's amazingly good looking, but a total idiot. (GOOSE EGG!)
A mate who's amazingly intelligent, but not much to look at. 27 percent (5 votes)
As Billy Joel said, "I just want someone that I can talk to." 13 votes (72 percent)

Thank you all for somewhat restoring my faith in humanity and proving, yet again, that Billy Joel has the answers for everything.

Oh, what the hell?! Now this?!

Rest In Peace, Mr. Whipple.

Is there such thing as a "super strain"?

I told Julie that I think I got some sort of super strain of cold because my trusted ally, NyQuil, isn't even helping me now. NyQuil is powerless against this cold.

I can't breathe. No matter what I do, I can't breathe. It's just not happening. I've got so much to do before I head out for Thanksgiving it's unreal, and here I type at 6:30 p.m. about to take a shower and go to bed so I can make it into work tomorrow.

I didn't work today. This might be my first sick day since I got my wisdom teeth out in 2005. I couldn't do it. I thought I could go in at noon, and I couldn't. I'm tired and weak now from putting on a hat to go to the store for cat food so my animal doesn't starve. Poor Inky. I mean, I think she could miss a meal or two, but she tends to be a far more agreeable creature with a full belly. (As I type this, she finished eating and she's curled up purring like she's the happiest cat in West Virginia ...)

But now, I give NyQuil a chance to NOT let me down again. I'd hate to have it fail me after such a long time together.

Tonight's program is brought to you by ...

I feel like death. I'm not even kidding. Even though I had such an amazing time in Covington/Cincinnati, going on a trip like that and keeping the pace we did when you're already halfway to full-blown flu isn't the way to go.

Nevertheless, we're pressing on and having a show tonight because there won't be one next week. By the time 8 p.m. rolls around next Sunday, Julie and I are going to be center ice at a Hershey Bears game in Pennsylvania.

I could literally go to bed right this minute.

Hi! I'm in ... Covington!

1. The Courtyard by Marriott in Covington, KY has lead curtains. I swear. We didn't know it was almost noon before we woke up.

2. New Martinsville is everywhere. Literally. First person we see at the hotel last night? Graduated two years before me.

3. Right next door? AWFUL WAFFLE!!!! :) Which is so calling our names, so I better get moving.

Go 'Eers. Go Blue. Go Nittany Lions.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

On the road in Ohio

I'm in the back of Erinn and Mike's car as we head toward Cincinnati. We're about 60 miles away, and I've already laughed harder than I have in a while. :)
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

First Song Friday (11-16-07)

A new take on the feature -- featuring YouTube.

Today's pick is courtesy of the 1990s music channel on MusicChoice. I heart you, digital cable.

I can die happy. On Feb. 22.

Feb. 21 -- Wachovia Center -- Philadelphia, PA

Me. And the FOO!

This is my first Foo Fighters concert. The first time I'll get to see them live! I'm so excited, I can't even hold it in. I've decided that February is the best month ever because it's got Groundhog Day, my birthday and Foo Fighters all in the same 29 days.

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?

Only in my office ...

... can two of my staff writers walk in from lunch -- one in an Elvis mask and one in a Paulie Walnuts looking mask -- and nobody bats an eye.

It was a great idea at the time!

This came in the mail yesterday. It's just a shame that nobody's going to see it under the five other layers of clothes when Erinn and I go into Nippert Stadium Saturday night for the WVU-Cincinnati game.

I'm so excited for this trip! Erinn and Mike (her husband, whose blog you should read after this one by clicking HERE!) and I will leave on Friday and we'll eat at a restaurant you can read about here.

I'm taking my camera ... now that I've got the cord and I stopped being lazy ... to document the action. :)

Because who DOESN'T need some 1980s?

Pretty much one of my favorite songs ... ever.



If I think about it long enough, it's this song and "This Is a Call" by Foo Fighters that got me so obsessed with drumming. I just finished watching this video, and the whole time, I'm drumming on my kitchen table.

I *heart* you, 1980s. Come back.

... Interesting.

SiteMeter is fun.

I used to be overwhelmingly popular in Parkersburg by a CityNet user.

But yesterday, after I wrote about the screenplay Jo and I did, I stopped being popular in Parkersburg almost immediately.

I'm now overwhelmingly popular by a generic ISP in Houston, Texas, by a user with the exact same computer specs as whoever was in Parkersburg using CityNet. They're also very interested in the comments on the post about the screenplay.

But I'm sure that's just a coincidence. It's probably also a coincidence that someone's been on my show page with all of those exact same specs ... Total coincidence.

That's really the last I'm going to say about it.

I know you're doing it. You know you're doing it.

You hate me. I think you're pathetic.

I love that I don't have anything stopping me from calling you out anymore. You'd think that alone would be enough to make me uninteresting to you and you'd be patting yourself on your back enjoying your "prize," but it's clearly not enough.

But until you want to stop hiding behind your Internet veil and address me directly, you're not worth the time I've already put into you. You're spending hours a day on this blog. Literally. If you're investing that kind of time in me, you have time to come out from your anonymous, sad little world. I'm putting myself out here because I'm not a coward. You've never been anything but a coward. And jealous. And knowing what I do know about you, you're justified in your jealousy.

Sometimes, they write themselves!

I got this as an e-mail survey from a friend of mine, and just decided to respond here, so hopefully she comes this way to see the anwers. :)

Are you happy with your given name? I like it in that it's unique with its spelling. I hate it in that people always trip over it or call me "Zhock."

What is your guaranteed weeping movie? I will cry almost every time at the end of "When Harry Met Sally." Sometimes, even the end of "Major League" makes me weepy.

What is the one thing you like to do alone? Exercise. Mostly running. I like running alone because it's' my time for me.

What’s a major fear or yours? Failure. I'm not really afraid of things, per se. I find some insects to be a little creepy, but that's it.

Are you a pyromaniac? I don't set stuff on fire on my desk anymore, so I'd say I'm over it!

Do you know anyone famous? Yeah!

Describe your bed. It's really soft. It's a sleigh bed, which I've always wanted. It's dark cherry wood. It has a ton of pillows and really good sheets and a soft comforter.

What type of character would you play in a movie? The wacky sidekick, naturally.

What do you carry with you at all times? BlackBerry and my wallet.

How do you eat an apple? Just eat it ... I mean, it's a self-contained food!

Do you prefer to stand out or blend in? I'm OK just being part of the scenery. That rarely happens.

What kind of first impression do you think you give people? I could only imagine. I would guess that "personable" is probably a prevalent choice.

Favorite communication method? Whatever I can do with my BlackBerry :)

What is your hidden talent? I'm good at making fleece tie blankets.

Do you own a Bible? Yes.

How many drinks before you’re tipsy? I'm Frank the Tank. It's a lot.

Do you have a problem changing clothes in front of friends? Nope.

What should you be doing instead of this? Probably working ... but we're off next week so I feel a little better in NOT working right now.

Who was the last person who called you? Julie, who's on her way back from Stonewall

Are you ready? For? A nap? Yeah. Pilates? Yeah. Some personal training sessions? Sure!

What is the last gift you gave someone? I gave my cousin a gift for her baby shower Saturday.

Does everything happen for a reason? You bet your ass it does.

What is your biggest headache lately? Friday. :( And everything that led up to Friday even happening.

What color is your bedroom? I'm a renter. It's white. At my old house it was a really pretty blue I picked out at Sherwin Williams when paint was dirt cheap.

Do you consider yourself to be a nice person? Too nice, actually.

Have you ever pierced your own body part or that of someone else? No. They have state-licensed people to do things like that.

What kind of watch do you wear? A stainless steel one. It's hot.

What’s one car you will never buy? I don't think I'd ever buy a pickup truck. Nothing against them, but I can't see why I'd buy one for myself.

How many online journals do you read daily? A few ... I recommend you check on the ones to the right. :)

Do you cry in front of your friends? Yeah. Especially lately.

Would you die to save the life of someone you dearly love? Yes.

Do you have any married friends? Tons of 'em.

Do you like thunderstorms? I like to sleep during thunderstorms.

What was your first job? I shaved blocks of ice and made them into snow-cone like things at SnoBiz in New Martinsville.

What was the last thing you typed before this survey? I was writing back to Ben.

Who was your last IM to? I haven't IMed anybody today, so I'd say last night, it was Paige.

Favorite word lately? "Awesome."

What’s the strangest thing that’s happened to you in the past week? I don't know ... every day is kind of strange. Nothing sticks out.

You have a crush, don’t you? No. I actually, really don't.

Who? I said I don't!

What is the little physical habit that gives away your insecure moments? I'm fidgety. Very, very fidgety.

Do you talk a lot? Yes. I'm a communicator!

What do you typically order at a bar? Vodka and cranberry.

Name ONE trait you hate in a person. Unfounded arrogance.

Favorite writing utensil? Pilot G-2 Retractable pens. So smooth. So perfect.

What’s one thing you’re a loser at? Being patient.

When’s the last time you made someone cry? It's been about a month or so.

Do you like the rain? Only if I'm not running in it. Then it's OK.

Who was the last person you talked to in person? George. He's behind me. He asked me why I was against him.

What are your plans for the weekend? I'm going to Cincinnati with Erinn to watch the WVU-Cincinnati game.

How much money would it take for you to give up the Internet for a year? Can I have it on my BlackBerry? If not, I'd probably do it for a million dollars, but I mean, I couldn't work. My job depends on the Internets.

Where’s your ideal marriage location? Ha! This is easy! Punxsutawney, Pa., on Feb. 2 where they do the weddings by the Inner Circle members.

What do you cook the best? I'm very good at chili. Mmm. Chili.

What kind of books do you like to read? I like non-fiction and true crime books. I'm also fascinated by organized crime and the mafia.

If you win the lottery, what would you like to do? I'd pack it up and move somewhere new and just see what happened.

If you don’t like a person, how do you show it? Let me count the ways ...

How long have you known your best friend? It seems like my entire life. We had the same Kindergarten teacher, but she hated me then. We had the same sixth grade teacher, but she hated me then, too. I think she started to like me in eighth grade when she realized I knew how to do algebra. :)

What are you listening to? "The Long Walk Back" CD by Just Off Turner that I bought on iTunes.

What was the last thing you laughed at? George, who said that he was gonna give someone a "wet kiss" if "Daddy got his job done right today."

What do you wish you were doing right now? Napping, easily. I'm sleepy.

What musical instrument do you wish you could play? I wish I was better at the guitar.

What’s the funniest experience you ever had at your job? Oh, wow. That's hard to narrow down. I'm going to vote for the Danny Shock Collar Incident. If you want details, I could totally do a post JUST on that.

If you could speak any language, which language would you speak? Spanish. We're all going to need it soon, and I want to be ready. :)

What fingers did you use to answer this… RIGHT NOW? Um, the ones on my hands?

Are you going to save your results? It's a blog, man. It's done been saved.

I love you, YouTube.

I don't need words for this.

Mistakes you make only once

Today when I was carrying the trash out, I saw the bottom fall out of my neighbor's bag.

No, I didn't laugh. I really wanted to. It was almost coming out, but I felt bad for him because I've been there.

He had a white bag he was carrying out. The city of Charleston gives you garbage bags that are black, so I don't know if he was out or just not using them, but I mean, I use them because they're free and they don't suck.

But I started thinking ... buying cheap garbage bags is a mistake you make only once. While some mistakes you'll make over and over again, you learn that lesson really quickly.

What are some other ones? Feel free to add to this list ... I'm developing an idea here.

As I close in on 11 hours at work today ...

My signature Demotivator really says it all at this point.

Old notebook, new laughter

I found a notebook in a drawer today that's about 18 months old. In the notebook was a screenplay Jo and I started writing about a psycho who was going to kill me and carve "never again" into my chest and fill the wounds with glitter.

It was loosely based on reality -- I had somehow managed to consume a nearly 40-year-old woman who thought that I was stealing her "boyfriend." This total whack job even went so far as to create fake MySpace pages to communicate with him, thinking I'd somehow be too stupid to catch on. She bitched about me to him relentlessly about how I was "picking on her."

This probably wouldn't have been as much fun if he just would have told the truth about her from the beginning rather than "oh, she's a psycho stalker. You should ignore her or she could hurt you or me or both of us." (Hey ... HIS words. NOT mine.)

... right. Truth? No? Half-truth? No? OK.

Fortunately, I'm so far removed from that world even the memories are spotty.

However, for the afternoon entertainment that notebook brought, this post is dedicated to the glitter graphic, Jo in Miami, "Crazy" by Pasty Cline, Jesus and our hope that one day, even I will be in the Writers Guild of America so I can be on strike.

New music you'll like: Just Off Turner

This band, in a single word, is great.


I learned about this band Friday night during The James Madison Show, a show I help co-host on Friday nights on TalkRadioX.

These guys are really personable, funny and passionate about what they do. It shows through their music. They released "The Long Walk Back" this year, and their album "End of Play" was released in 2002. My favorite song of theirs is the title track from "The Long Walk Back."

I don't know how these guys haven't exploded all over the national music scene, especially when crap bands like The Fray and All-American Rejects get airplay.

You can check out their music at their MySpace page or their site -- JustOffTurner.com. If you like what you hear, you can download their music from iTunes or buy the CDs from Amazon.com.

The results are in: We heart our opposite sex friends!

In this week's survey of your brain, I asked:

Can a man and a woman simply be "just friends"?

Here's how you voted:

Yes! Some of my closest friends are of the opposite sex. -- 9 votes (50 percent)
I suppose, but 99 percent of the time, it's complicated. -- 8 votes (44 percent)
Nope. It's not possible. -- 1 vote (5 percent)

I'm curious about the one "no" vote, so if you're that vote and you want to share, I'd love to hear your experience. I voted yes, because it's true in my case ... P and Jeff are just two of many. They're dudes, but there's never been any sort of issue that came between us in terms of "should we ever go past this." I'd take a bullet for them. They'd take one for me.

My sister's best friend is a guy named Forsh. She's lucky to have him, because they really are separated at birth twins.

I'm not saying I've not run into the situation where I became really close friends with a male and it got complicated -- I lost an entire year, maybe longer, of my four years at WVU to it, and it lingered on for another three. You learn from it. You live. You go on.

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!!

Freaking real(ity) TV

So, I'm fascinated by this show I'm watching on A&E right now called "Intervention." Basically, the premise is they focus on someone with an addiction and then they follow them from the beginning, to the intervention, to treatment, etc.

Right now I'm watching this girl named Cristy who wanted to be a fashion designer, but got all addicated to crystal meth and alcohol and now she's a stripper. Her sister just came to try to make her eat lunch and she was so messed up she ended up beating her sister -- all of this while naked. In a house that looked like a hurricane had been through it and she was just living in the piles.

I don't know, really, what it's like to be in a situation where you have a family member who's so bad off that you have to just swoop in and haul them off to the rehab. I never had an immediate family member who was addicted to hard drugs ... it's all normal, run of the mill stuff.

So, as fascinated as I am, I'm sad. I can't imagine something having that kind of control over you. I make jokes about meth all the time (because it's a HUGE problem where I live) by saying that if it didn't make you ugly, I'd be all over it to make me thin, but after seeing this, I sort of feel bad for saying it.

And then there's the part of me that's wrestling with why I'm watching it. I mean, it's somewhat educational and I'm learning something, but then again, I feel like I'm watching someone else's life blow up for the sake of entertainment.

I've had a rough couple of days, so I think it goes back to the, "Well, it's nice to know that somebody's worse off than you, Jacque." I mean, isn't that why we watch "Maury" or "Jerry Springer"? There's part of us that likes to know that somewhere, someone's having a worse day than you are.

But it's kind of sad. I can't even imagine just drinking vodka like it's bottled water, and that's what she's doing. She's just drinking it right out of the bottle. It blows my mind.

Christmas *IS* only six weeks away

This is on the list.

This guy ...










Is ... a freakin' beast. In the last 45 seconds of the game Saturday night against the Devils, he probably had five saves to keep them from tying it. Out of my long-standing tradition of goalie love, Rick DiPietro's been it for the past couple of years.

Tonight's game is against the Flyers, which as much as I love Philadelphia, I'll be going against them tonight. :) (Sorry, Ang. But the next time the Islanders are in town, I totally need to come over and we can go!!)

That's right ... sadly, my interest in football is waning now that hockey's getting into full swing. Julie and I are even going on a semi-pro hockey tour in two weeks. Maybe it's my Canadiophilia ...

Truth through art

Just so you know, it's not out of the realm of possibility that something very similar to this has happened with my friends and me. I, of course, would be the one holding the flame thrower.

We have a lot of great ideas ... it's a shame most of them suck.

Happy birthday, Angie!!

The beautiful girl on the left is celebrating her birthday today in Philadelphia. I'm unfortunately not in Philadelphia today to help her, but I think she knows that I'm there in spirit. This picture was from her bachelorette party March 31, 2007.

Happy birthday to someone who really has seen it all with me and never left my side through any of it. You are simply the best, ever.

And I hope you at least go buy a cute coat today or something ... Maybe hang out with Lord Hauser. :)

So if you're one of my readers and inclined, leave Angie some birthday love!

First Song Friday (11-09-07)

Oh, kids. If this morning's pick is any indication, today could be off the charts in fantastic.

Today's pick, courtesy of the 1980s Music Choice channel on my digital cable provided by Suddenlink, a company for which I am like a battered wife.

The first song I heard today is, "We Built This City" by Starship. A song, by most accounts (including this one where Blender magazine named it pretty much the worst song ever), that represented all that was wrong with pop music, even though the song railed against it.

For your singalong pleasure:

We Built This City

Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Say you don't know me or recognize my face
Say you don't care who goes to that kind of place
Knee deep in the hoopla, sinking in your fight
Too many runaways eating up the night

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

Someone always playing corporation games
Who cares they're always changing corporation names
We just want to dance here, someone stole the stage
They call us irresponsible, write us off the page

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

It's just another Sunday, in a tired old street
Police have got the choke hold, oh then we just lost the beat

Who counts the money underneath the bar
Who rides the wrecking ball in two rock guitars
Don't tell us you need us, cos were the ship of fools
Looking for America, coming through your schools

(I'm looking out over that Golden Gate Bridge
Out on another gorgeous sunny Saturday, not seein' that bumper to bumper traffic)

Don't you remember ('member)('member)

(what's your favorite radio station, in your favorite radio city
The city by the bay, the city that rocks, the city that never sleeps)

Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, don't you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll

(we built, we built this city) built this city (we built, we built this city)

I makes me wish my open fingered gloves were here already!!

'Your next wedding invitation ...'

My friend Amber makes me laugh really hard. She sent this to me. She said she anticipates this is in my future.

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.

*giggle*

I'm so ordering this shirt for myself on Friday when I get paid. Especially since it's 'Surfolk' County Public Schools. And it's 1987.

Personally, I celebrate the man's entire catalog

Although he wasn't talking about the same Michael, Bob Slydell in "Office Space" definitely said it best.

But I don't celebrate Michael Bolton.

I celebrate Michael McDonald.

To me, it doesn't get any better than when he sings, "Ain't No Mountain High Enough."

And, yes. I own BOTH Motown CDs.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

"Jacque ... that man ruined the Doobie Brothers. He destroyed an American institution."

You call this destroying?



That is musical magic. Much like Ricky Bobby in "Talledega Nights," when Michael McDonald wakes up in the morning, he pisses excellence.

Excellence like this gem from the 1986 movie, "Running Scared."



I know what you're thinking.

"Jacque, that movie is great on its own. It didn't need a song to make it better! It's got Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines for the love of God."

You ... would be wrong. That song makes the perfect compliment to an already fantastic flick.

Play that YouTube vid and you try to tell me you're not chair dancing -- even a little. It's impossible. The power of Michael compels you. You can't sit there with a frown when "Sweet Freedom" starts to play. You'll be humming it and realizing that all of those times you thought that genius destoryed the Doobie Brothers, you were very, very wrong.

The Dead Neighbor Proxy

Seeing this post about the word "vajayjay" on my friend Jim's blog this morning reminded me of one of my life-governing principles.

Sure, I've got the life-governing principles on men.

1. Don't trust a man with two first names, or a man who has a first name for a last name.
2. Don't trust a man with a standalone mustache.
3. Don't trust a man who has, or had (and found it to be the pinnacle of fashion) a mullet.
4. Don't trust a man who wears douchebag sunglasses.
5. Don't trust a man who uses more styling products than you do.

But one of my other life-governing principles involves this woman. Oprah.

Maybe it's not JUST Oprah, but she is the most powerful vehicle for the proxy.

Oprah is a very, very powerful woman.

In token, most American women are sheep.

Oprah puts her "O" on a book, and millions of people run to the closest Barnes and Noble, Wal-Mart, Target, grocery store, flea market and what-have-you to buy a copy.

Oprah says, "Ham will make you lose weight! I love ham!" and no grocery store in suburbia has ham on the shelves.

Oprah says, "Stripes are the hot fashion this season" and every woman you pass who isn't in a velvet track suit is wearing stripes of various widths and colors.

Oprah says, "HEEEEEYYYYY! LAAAADIEEEES!! GO KILL YA' NAAAAAY-BOR!!" and I swear to GOD as I sit here, there would be dead neighbors all over the United States. Everywhere you went, there would be dead neighbors.

All because of the power she wields. Hence the "Dead Neighbor Proxy." This, naturally, leads me to label her as a terrorist. I have middle-aged women in my neighborhood. I'm a moving target.

Don't get me wrong, though. It's not just Oprah's fault. It's her legion of militant, sheep-like followers that are equally at fault. It's not going to be Oprah that kills me by poisoning my banana bread with strychnine. It's going to be the sweet older lady who lives two townhouses down from me. It could be my mother or my sister, who are both HUGE, HUGE Oprah devotees. I can't tell you how many times I've been handed a book because, "I saw it on Oprah," or had a story start out with, "I was watching Oprah today after work, and ..."

But I am wearing stripes today. Not because Oprah told me. Because I haven't worn this shirt yet and I got it for $1.99 at New York and Co.

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.

Today's poll is brought to you by ...

I fell asleep last night watching "When Harry Met Sally" because it was on one of the channels. I blame it for being top-of-mind when I was thinking of a poll question.

I'm curious about the results of this one. I know my vote. :) My vote is a resounding "hell yes." Some of my closest friends are men, and there's no "ooh, I could date them" undertone.

Or am I kidding myself 'cause I'm not a man? Maybe all men see women in the "I could date them" undertone.

The results are in: You hate 'em all!

In the ol' bloggeriffic poll this week, I asked:

Which of these celebutards are likely to die first? (Either by their own hand or an equally awesome circumstance.)

Here's how you voted:

Britney Spears -- 36 percent (4 votes)
Paris Hilton -- GOOSE EGG!
Lindsay Lohan -- 9 percent (1 vote ... I'm glad there's still hope!)
One of those adorable Olsen twins -- 9 percent (1 vote ... which one?)
Can we be lucky enough to have them all wiped out at once? -- 45 percent (5 votes)

It's comforting to know you're hoping to make the world a better place in one fell swoop!

... Oh NO she didn't

Me (at hair salon): Hi. Do you have time to fit in a color? Not highlights. Just single process?

Stylist: Are you looking for something different or just to cover up your gray?

Me: Um ... Uh ... Just darker.

I have visible gray and nobody told me?? My closest girls KNOW that gray at 28 is something I will not accept!

"... just to cover up your gray."

Screw you, aging. You aren't taking me that easily. I will fight you like we're in a trailer park and you're sleeping with my man. I don't want to break a Bud Light bottle across your face, but I will.

Hrmph.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Why! Why ... it's ... it's a MAJOR AWARD!

Oh, and you better believe it's cooler than that. Although that's still on my Top Five list of wants of all time.

Angela, the writer of a fanastic blog I read called "Blog It Like You Mean It" has bestowed upon little ol' me a "Best Kept Secret" award.

So, naturally, since it's a secret, the first thing I'm gonna do is tell YOU.

I'm excited. Of course, now, this means I've peaked at 28 and I'm opening the door wide open for continued disappointment from here forward. Unless I get that drum set for Christmas, and then ... GAME ON!

Born a 10-year-old, but still a kid

We've been talking love songs lately. Namely that Billy Joel song, "She's Always a Woman."

Beth brought in her copy of Madonna's compilation CD from the early '90s, "The Immaculate Collection."

I've been listening to it most of the afternoon. Much like other artists who allowed fame to ruin them, it's nice to remember a time when she actually produced fun things that didn't involve a bunch of pretentious studio artists putting their own unique touch on it.

But, anyway, on this CD, track six is "Crazy for You," which is a beautiful love song that I believe was on the "Mystic Pizza" soundtrack. That takes me back. Wow.

But I've listened to this song a dozen times today. I think it's beautiful. And it's like when I listen to the song, I can see pictures of what the song's talking about in my head. I think everybody can. I think everybody's been there.

The song "Open Your Heart" ... another classic. It's another one of those unrequited "just give me a chance" kind of love songs.

If you think about it, love songs all have about the same thread -- either come back to me, don't leave me or just notice me! I'm a huge fan of "just notice me." I mean, so much of this world would find love if they just noticed what was around them. There are entire Web sites dedicated to this concept -- chance meetings, random occurrences. I love reading them. They're both fascinating and sad all at the same time.

Of course, I'm not normal.

I've been listening to a lot of 1980s radio lately thanks to my pals at XM. It makes me realize how much I hate music today. That makes me old and crotchety, I know. I'm not even in my 30s and I think about how great life would be if we all still had banana clips and jelly sandals and the legal drinking age was 18.

If I had leg warmers, I'd be all over it right now. I've said this a hundred times ... I'm sure I was born a 10-year-old. Something got mixed up in shipping and receiving and I really should have been born in 1969, not 1979. I should have been going to high school in the mid-1980s, not the mid-1990s.

But then again, if that were true, I'd be kissing 40 rather than 30, and I'm not sure if that's any better.

What's puzzling you is the nature of my game

Today, I got a new watch at Target, because I can't find any of my watches from the move.

So, I got this really pretty stainless steel one because that's just how I roll. It's stylish, yet very grown up.

And it's about four sizes too big.

Oh, sure, they give you 'easy' directions on how to remove links. Easy if you're a freaking jeweler.

I also saw a Hello Kitty watch for about $3.99. I had it in my hand before I went the adult route and got the stainless one.

As I lamented to Paige about my huge watch with impossible-to-remove links, I made the observation that "no move toward adulthood goes unpunished." She agreed.

My family was here today, which was nice. I had my sister here overnight. My sister and I have an odd relationship, but a close one. I don't get her, she doesn't get me. We're OK with that. Last night we saw a friend of mine from Pilates class and she said we looked alike. It always seems that people who don't know us are the ones who say we look alike. My sister's a little taller than I am, she's got blonde hair, blue eyes and a little darker complected. I'm about as pale as they come, auburn hair, bright green eyes. Rarely, if ever, do I get "Oh, you look just alike."

But we had a good time. We went for dinner and ice cream and then came back here where both of us fell asleep almost immediately from full bellies. My parents joined us today and we all had dinner for Dad's birthday. He's a year away from retirement, but convinced he's not going to live that long. My Dad and I are alike in that way ... He says he won't make it to 62. He said he wouldn't make it to 60. I can remember when I was a kid him saying he didn't believe he'd make it to 40.

I always say that I won't make it past 30. And it's going to be in some amazing blaze of glory fashion that I go out. Hahaha ... Likely after saying, "Guys! Seriously! Check this out!"

But tonight, I've found myself giving up on getting the links out of the watch and watching "Kingpin" which combines two of my most favorite things -- bowling and the Amish. You could say I'm obsessed with both, along with drumming and Kiefer Sutherland. I mean, the bowling is something people laugh about. One morning, I actually was almost late for work because I was watching the end of a professional bowling match. I'll watch professional bowling almost every time it's on TV. That makes me ... ridiculous.

Most people find this movie to be really, really stupid. And it is. But there's also some comedic gold in that film, and some of the best one-liners ever. I started it last night, but my sister wanted to watch "Tommy Boy" instead. So, because it's just me and Inky holding down the fort tonight, we're watching the kind of crap we want to watch. Well, to be fair, Inky isn't watching anything. She's asleep in front of the heater vent where it's warm.

When I lived in my old apartment five years ago, I'd sleep on the couch on the weekends. It was my weekend ritual. I don't know why it felt so good to sleep on the couch after a week's worth of work, but it did. I'd sleep on the couch with the TV on channel that was showing infomercials. I figure that's to blame for 90 percent of my desire to own a Showtime Rotisserie Grill and a Juice Tiger.

But the last weekend I spent in my house, I tried to sleep on the couch and couldn't do it. I woke up around 2 and went up to my bed and crawled between the sheets and fell back into a really deep sleep. Tonight may be the next attempt at couch sleeping, because as I'm writing this, it's sucking me in and telling me to stay.

Ah, Saturday night on your own. It's a hell of a party. :)

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!

First Song Friday (11-02-07)

Today's gem comes from Charleston's Mix 100.9 again, because who can't live with an Kennie Bass InfoBlast in the mornings?

It's "Running on Empty" by Jackson Browne.

Yeah. I am.

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields
In '65 I was 17 and running up one-o-one
I dont know where I'm running now, I'm just running on

Running on -- running on empty
Running on -- running blind
Running on -- running into the sun
But I'm running behind

Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive
Trying not to confuse it with what you do to survive
In '69 I was 21 and I called the road my own
I dont know when that road turned onto the road I'm on

Running on -- running on empty
Running on -- running blind
Running on -- running into the sun
But I'm running behind

Everyone I know, everywhere I go
People need some reason to believe
I dont know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, that'll be all right
If I can get you to smile before I leave

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I dont know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too

Running on -- running on empty
Running on -- running blind
Running on -- running into the sun
But I'm running behind

Honey you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
I'd love to stick around but I'm running behind
You know I don't even know what I'm hoping to find
Running into the sun but I'm running behind


I can live with that. I find it far more pleasing that last week's Bon Jovi. *shudder*

The bane of my existence, still in its box

Lemme tell you a story about my living room furniture.

The first full day I was in my new place, the furniture store delivered a whole bunch of stuff. What I didn't buy at the furniture store was an entertainment center, coffee table or end table because I figured I could get them on the cheap somewhere.

I found what I wanted, but the store where I was looking only had two of the three pieces -- they didn't have the coffee table. I wasn't 100 percent sold on a coffee table anyway, but my Mom was really all about it. She said that it would tie the room together. I didn't want to buy two of the pieces from one store and run the risk that the other store locations wouldn't have the coffee table.

Finally, after two days of calling around, we found that the store in Huntington had them. So, Mom and I piled in the Explorer and went an hour west to get all three pieces.

That Sunday night, the entertainment center (which now supports my totally excellent Man TV) and the end table were put together.

The coffee table?

Not so much. It's still in its box. Still resting against the wall.

My parents will be here Saturday. My sister and I are going to have to put this thing together tomorrow night or I know my Mom's going to want to do it Saturday. And she'll be somewhat disappointed that the coffee table I made her drive an hour for isn't being used.

I'm like Josh in the movie, "Haiku Tunnel." Josh is a temp who finally lands himself in a permanent job. All Josh has to do is transcribe and mail 17 "very important" letters from his boss, Bob. Josh quickly transcribes them and puts them in the envelopes, gets them stamped and ... just ... can't ... get ... it ... in the mail.

Josh finds every reason in the world to NOT put these letters in the mail. There's even a scene in the movie where he says, "I went ahead and did the expense reports now in case I wanted something easier to do later."

That's me with this coffee table. I've cleaned. I've done laundry. I've put together book cases. I've folded clothes. I've organized clothes. I've done everything BUT put this coffee table together.

And now it's crunch time.

So, my sister is going to get bribed with dinner, and then she's going to help me put this thing together. Unless I can find some movie I want to see, or some DVDs to rent or some other task that will prevent it from happening.

Unless I decide to alphabetize my socks. I've always wondered how I could do that.

Reader survey: She's Always a Woman

Up here at the office, we've become huge Billy Joel fans. We've all been listening to a lot of the Piano Man lately.

Sweet Ann was talking about one of the most beautiful love songs of all time -- "She's Always a Woman."

I think Sweet Ann's losing her Marble King marbles.

That is NOT a beautiful love song. Clearly, this guy is in love with a torturous woman. This song is about how she's a master of inflicting pain on this man who loves her, and no matter what anybody thinks about her, she's a woman, and she's his woman.

So, readers ... it's up to a vote.

Is "She's Always a Woman" a beautiful love ode, or is it a tragic, sad song about the woman you love that's eating your soul?

My newest obsession

Dear Santa,

Please get me a drum set for Christmas. My co-workers would much rather have me in my house beating on these than beating on my desk with chop sticks while I listen to the White Stripes or the Foo Fighters.

At night, Santa, I dream about having a drum set. In my dream, I'm wearing my Yoda t-shirt and ripped jeans and I'm part of a band. It's not a girl band ... it's a band with normal dudes but I'm their drummer.

When I was in Morgantown a few weeks ago, I met someone who said he was (among other things) a drummer, too. In a drunken state, he asked me to play some sort of pattern on his arm. I failed. Of course, my hands aren't sticks and his forearms aren't snares or toms and a lot of vodka had been spent between the two of us.

But, Santa, I think I'm ready to show the world my drumming prowess. You remember back in fifth grade when I wanted to join the band? I wanted to play drums, but my Mom and Dad weren't too key on having that kind of noise in the house. They directed me toward the clarinet. I pushed for the saxophone.

I still love my saxophone. I love the saxophone, the flute, the trumpet and the trombone I have in my basement. I could have a one man band ... I'm just missing the drums.

So, if you could see fit, I'd love a drum set for Christmas. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you I've been good this year, so if you could award me honesty points, I'd be grateful. I've not been good, just good at it. Whatever "it" is.

Thanks, Santa. You're pretty kick-ass.

Love,

Jacque Jo

Just when you think you're in control

AT&T smacks you with a $300 cell phone bill.

I really thought it was a joke. Like, "Hahaha! Jacque! Look at that! We took bets in accounts receivable as to whether this would be what caused you to stroke out."

I almost stroked out, but sure enough, it's all mine. Since I moved out on my own, the cell phone's the only means of telephonic communication I have. Which means if you're calling me, and you're not an AT&T customer, and you're calling be before 9 p.m. eastern, I'm paying for it.

Like $300 paying for it.

GAH.

So I called to check, and sure enough, I'm guilty. I kept hoping it really was just some sort of funny little mixup I could laugh at later while, naturally, calling someone who isn't an AT&T customer during the day.

Happy Halloweenis

Just a couple of pictures to get everybody in the "scaring the crap out of people" spirit! The picture above shows the pumpkins we carved prior to Danny's murder mystery party. Michelle (Danny's fiance) did the very intricate on the far left. She had a pattern and definitely put more work into this than most of us! The pirate ship is Danny's. The spider is Julie's. The pumpkin on the far right is one done by Michelle's 13-year-old daughter, Jordan. The extremely elementary happy pumpkin second from the right is mine. I'm not good at patience. Or pumpkin carving. But my pumpkin is happy.


In this picture, Sara, dressed as a gym teacher, and me, dressed as a Steelers cheerleader, ponder a clue in Danny's murder mystery. I'm more or less pondering where I put down my drink. But the clue was pretty tough. It's a shame that I knew beforehand who one of the killers was and I was just trying to not ruin it for everybody ... well, at least right away. Then I started being Little Miss Gamekiller.

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.

OK, Jesus. You win.

My co-workers were going out for lunch, so I asked them to bring me back some wings, celery and ranch. One of them suggested I get the wings plain, and the sauce on the side so they don't get soggy.

When they got here, my wings were here. My celery was here. My ranch was here.

There was no wing sauce in a separate container. Nothing.

Plain wings. No sauce.

Siiiigh.

Jesus is boldfaced. Period. End of story.

I couldn't work anywhere else

My paper does this thing (that I don't love) that involves bolding proper names. People, businesses, etc. It's supposed to be done to enhance readability and because people who love themselves love not only seeing their names, but seeing their names in bold print.

This, however, has led to a continual debate over what gets bolded and what doesn't. Beth did a great job trying to come up with a styleguide for it, but questions still pop up.

Today:

"Do we bold Jesus?"

I came back into the room in the middle of the discussion, so they decided to ask me.

"Jacque!! Do we bold Jesus?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"You won't bold Punxsutawney Phil, you're not bolding Jesus."

At which point Stirewalt jumps in and says, "But Jesus was a real person. He walked the earth. That can't be disputed."

Nobody seemed to buy into my belief that Punxsutawney Phil is real.

I eventually had to rule that in light of supporting evidence, Jesus is boldfaced.

I'm hopeful this prevents me from getting hit and killed by a piece of falling blue ice from a plane landing at Yeager today.

Also, today at work I learned that caffeine can mess up your prostate.

(Note to self: Be thankful you don't have a prostate!)

The results are in: We're children of the '80s

In last week's blog poll, I asked:

If you could live in any time period, what would it be?

Here's how you voted:

Like, omigod, the '80s. — 58 percent (7 votes)
I'd kick it in the '90s. — 33 percent (4 votes)
Peace, man. I'm a '60s kid. — (GOOSE EGG!!)
Break out the disco! It's 'the 70s. — 8 percent (1 vote)

It almost makes me want to get my leg warmers out! That and the fact that it's 10 degrees in my office. God!!!

7 p.m. update: I'm still at work.

As the God clock ticks well past my eleventh hour here today, I'm comforted by these words of wisdom from this wise, wise man:


"Oh, you hate your job? Why didn't you say so? There's a support group for that. It's called EVERYBODY, and they meet at the bar."

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.

Monday Morning Shoutouts

Here are a few blogs I recommend you check out this week:

WVU Blog by Mike Casazza (Sports commentary that's intelligent)

Ninja of the Mundane (Jim's blog ... this guy puts it all together like a tasty sandwich)

This Side of Patty O (Congratulate the Sox fan on his sweet World Series!!)

The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks (Plain hilarious ... especially for journo-geeks.)


(If you've got a suggestion, send them my way. I'm happy to love all, serve all ... just like those kids at the Hard Rock Cafe.)

This morning's entry is brough to you by Erinn

And the words:

Manscaping

Man tan

And:

"I just snorted like a pig."

Thank you, head cold from hell.

The last 12 hours of my life I just lost are brought to you by NyQuil, the nighttime sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy head, fever, YOU ARE SO GOING INTO A COMA so you can rest medicine.

I fell asleep last night watching "Fatal Attraction" on HBO 2 for the millionth time. I was chatting online with babes (Julie, as she toiled away on her masters, and Jim, as he was working away as the editing badass he is) and when I wrapped up I just sort of lay back on the couch, covered up and the next thing I remember is 7:23 when Inky decided to engage the boxes by the stairs in battle. Of course, after that woke me up and she noticed I was disturubed, she curled up by the couch and started purring. F-ing cat. She's staring at me now as I write this because she knows I'm talking about her.

My friend Ben and I are planning a vacation for December. Somewhere tropical. I think we both are due. We've both had a lot of changes this year. He's buying his first home in the Miami, Fla., area and I've just kind of had a rough year. Traveling's expensive. I'm going to be on the "plain spaghetti and water" meal plan after it's over to pay off the credit card I put this trip on.

He made the offhand comment, "I need to get into beach shape." Yeah, pal. Me too. It isn't so much that I'm getting fat, I just need to get it under control. I've been "adjusting" for a month now, and now it's over. I'm adjusted. I need to get my ass to the grocery store and buy food I should be eating, not food I want because it's tasty and I'm lazy.

Maybe that's what I'll do today when I get off the couch. I'm NyQuil hungover and Food Network's on. I may not move until I start getting ready for the show at 8. I'm going to "perimeter shop" when I go -- I will avoid at most costs the center aisles of the store where delicious things like salt and vinegar chips live.

It's 40 minutes until the Steelers and Jeff hasn't called yet to hang out. He must be more hung over than I am. And at least he had a good time doing it.

It's happened. I'm old.

I've spent most of the day building furniture from Wal-Mart and listening to the adult contemporary station.

Well, except for the few hours of Mountaineer domination.

When did I get old? I used to be young. Now I'm old. I want to wear sweatpants and read rather than go out.

Weird. Things like that hit you quickly. But at least I've got some Holland Oates on the radio. Hahaha ... :)