The Falls

Forgive me for I intend to skim over the details of last night. The downtown scene has officially gone sour! I hit up all the usual bars -- Rosen's, Harvey's, The Annex, The Drink. It was same old, same old.

One noteworthy bit was the Independence Day decorations at The Annex. The place was adorned with cheap, plastic red, white, and blue star spiral-shaped mobiles. The cocktail waitresses, bartenders and go-go dancers were decked out in military fatigues. But the strangest of all were these life-like soldiers in combat gear equipped with rifles. There were two, one on each podium, positioned on the go-go dancer platforms. It was creepy and odd; I'm still haunted by those images.

A couple humorous things I witnessed were three different sloppy drunk chicks taking a dive -- two on the dance floor, one in the middle of a street intersection. Another source of entertainment was a dude on the dance floor of The Annex with the worst hairstyle I've ever seen. I don't know if he was trying to conceal a receding hairline or what, but his hair, which looked like the result of a perm gone awry, was combed forward in the most awkward fashion. My guy friend dubbed it "the waterfall."

That pretty much brings me up to speed to today where it was a relaxing day at the Savage Lifetime pool with friends. I did a careless job with the sunscreen application as the red streaks and patches on my arms and shoulders indicate. Oh well. Tonight I'm lookin' forward to Ratatouille! I'd write more, but I have a sleepy kitty on my lap. Speaking of, I may need a cat nap myself.

Cell Phone Etiquette 101

I screen my calls. Who doesn't?!? It's one thing to screen calls, but quite another to be on the opposing end, fully aware your call is being screened. If you send me to your voicemail before 6 full rings or 36 seconds, whichever happens first, I know my call is being screened. Don't ask how I know -- I've got a lot of free time. Hence the reason I never send callers to voicemail before the allotted number of rings with the exception of me clumsily hitting the reject key by mistake. Even if it's a case where mitigating circumstances prohibit me from answering my phone, I try not to break this rule for I don't want to concern others I am 1.) avoiding them 2.) upset with them 3.) not in the mood to hear their lame stories.

Cell Phone Etiquette Tip #1: If you're a habitual screener, the least you can do is allow said Rejected Caller the common courtesy of thinking you missed their call rather than dismissed!

Step 1

I dug through my plastic container of miscellaneous notebooks and papers to find a 3-ring binder containing my last work-in-progress, a chick lit novel. The good news is I skimmed a couple pages and I didn't absolutely hate it. It does, however, need a great deal of work. The bad news is my last revision was dated 7-14-05. What the fuck have I have been doing the last two years?!?

Deborah's Diet

8:05 am: Bag of Cheeto's
10:20 am: Bag of Grandma's mini vanilla cookies
11:05 am: Slice of pizza and Lay's potato chips
2:32 pm: Bag of Grandma's mini vanilla cookies

So Deborah and her sister started a deal where they must give $1 for every pound they gain at the time of their weigh-in every month. Should we place bets on how much she'll be forking over in total?

Case of Blah's

Much to my dismay, the thrill of this blog is wearing off. For the past couple months, the excitement of coming up with topics to post about overshadowed the grim reality of my horrendous job. I was just happy to have a reason to write and an audience, albeit small, to listen. Alas, back to reality. I realize my job still blows and more importantly, my current career path to writer is the equivalent of me stumbling around blindfolded in a jungle full of wild animals.

Every few months or so, I re-evaluate my goals as a writer and think about what I need to do in order to become serious about my writing, but in the end, my intimidation leads to discouragement as all motivation goes out the window. Oftentimes, I think my life would be so much easier and I would be so much happier if I wasn't cursed with the desire to write. It truly is a curse!

Why couldn't I strive for a clear-cut profession? Even if writers go to school to perfect their craft, it's not like they graduate and become licensed writers. They don't receive a legal document authorizing them to write. Nope, it's not until you see your name in print that you can officially call yourself a writer. And even then, it's a long road to success. Very few make enough to support themselves as full-time writers.

Sorry for the Debbie (not to be confused with Deborah) Downer post, but this is my mood today. I need a wake-up call; time to get my shit together and do some actual writing.

Keepin' it Real

Gnarley Marley

Friendship is a Curious Thing

Do you ever wonder why your friends are friends with you? I can't imagine it's easy being a friend of mine. I'm aloof. My verbal communication skills are virtually non-existent -- just ask anyone who's attempted to confront me. It's not in my nature to be generous or compassionate. I suppose I can be funny at times, but only if you're into sarcasm and dry humor, bordering downright cruel. According to my own mother, "mean-spirited." If you consider that a positive trait, the only other attribute I can think of is I'm very easy-going. I'm up for anything whether it be clubbing or camping! Other than that, not sure what I bring to the table.

Seriously, why are you still friends with me?? I can't help but wonder...

Not your Ordinary Sunday

I feel a tad foolish about my latest adventure. Only one of my friends knows because she was with me, but the rest of my friends will most likely read it here first. I did something yesterday that will stay with me the rest of my life!

Ever since I was 16 or so, I've said I was going to get a tattoo. Lo and behold, 10 years later, I can finally say I followed through on that statement. I was getting a little worried that ship had sailed for fear I was simply getting too old. Arguably, I probably am too old, but dammit, I was determined to get one! Plus I can check another item off my 'Things to do Before I Die' list! I'm on a roll this year...

It's been years of back and forth on my part. Indecision plagues me in every day life. Anyway, I always liked star tattoos and I wanted the "tramp stamp" even though I'm way past the age of 18. I really liked the lower back tribal tattoos, but I figured I probably wouldn't like that in 10 years. So...I just got three small stars tattooed on my lower back, and boy, are they low. Lower than I anticipated. Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself, so I'll backpedal a bit.

My experienced tattooed friend agreed to go to the tattoo parlor with me. We forever have a bond now. I'll think of her every time I see my tattoo. :) The place is called Aloha Monkey in Burnsville and it's where she went for her last tattoo. Lucky girl is going to the Bahamas next week with her hubby and in-laws so she couldn't get a tat since you can't swim for three weeks. She actually wanted to get one on her toe and then wear a band-aid over it, but this tattoo place refuses to do them on toes because they said it looks like a blob over time.

So I kind of knew I wanted the stars beforehand, but I did look around at the pictures. There were a couple cool tribal suns I saw, but I didn't know if that was something I would want forever. Also, I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, but I was incredibly nervous for the unknown. I was super curious to know what getting a tattoo felt like. My friend described it as deep scraping of the skin which made me very anxious to get one, as I'm sure you can imagine.

I had an older female tattoo artist. She said she would place the stars where she thought they should go and then I could decide if I liked the placement. I kind of assumed she knew best so I didn't really question it at the time, but when I got home last night and really took a look in the mirror, I realized the bottom star is really, really low! Not so sure I like that, but not much I can do now!

So the pain was not nearly as bad as I was expecting. It hardly hurt at all -- there was just one point where I actually flinched. It helped that I didn't have to face the needle because I wouldn't have wanted to witness that. When I got my tongue pierced way back when (twice, in fact), I closed my eyes both times. It may sound weird, but afterwards I felt relieved more than anything. I was glad I had finally done something I'd been saying I was going to do for soooooooo long. And I felt good knowing what it felt like to get a tattoo. I satisfied my curiosity!

Another reason I decided on plain stars -- it's just the outline of stars by the way, in black, was because I intend to add on to it in the future. Perhaps color in the stars or add little sunbursts, etc. The possibilities are endless! My friend plans to go back and get these really cool sparrows on her lower back, but she has to save up money first and get an estimate from a guy who didn't happen to be working at the time. I'll probably go back when she does to add more because I already think my tattoo looks pretty boring. If I wouldn't have been such a wuss, I probably would've gotten something more intricate, but at least I know what to expect now.

I also considered getting the stars on my pelvic area, but I was too scared for that. My friend has one there and she said she had to lie down and stay super still while taking shallow breaths. I'd have been way too nervous for my first time! But maybe next time, I'd have to hope I didn't get fat though because that would look terrible if it got all stretched out!

Speaking of fat, I'm not posting a picture yet of my tattoo. I ran outside today in this miserable heat and I don't know that I've ever felt that self-conscious before! All the hard-core female runners were out in their sport bras, sporting their six-pack abs. My friends get pissed at me, so lemme clarify, I don't think I'm fat, but I think I could stand to lose at least five pounds!! I would never feel comfortable enough to jog in just a sports bra because my stomach is NOT flat.

Another thing I want to say in relation to this is that ALL females have a complex about their weight. I have some super skinny friends that rattle off things they dislike about their body at the drop of a hat!!

Anyway, I got a little off-track, but my tattoo seems to be healing pretty nicely. My friend said it would scab over, but I'm thinking mine may not. Still, I'm going to wait a bit for pics. You'll have to use your imagination in the meantime!

My tattoo artist asked what my mom would think of my tattoo and I responded with, "Well, I'm 26 so I don't think she can say much." To which she replied, "You'd be surprised. I once was tattooing a guy of legal age down in Florida and his mother physically yanked him out of the chair during the middle of it and they left." Crazy! I think my parents will just shake their heads and ask why...

After getting inked, which only took about ten minutes, my friend and I headed over to another friend's house to grill out. We all went to high school together and it was just FUN to hang out and laugh with them. I can't remember the last time just the three of us were together -- probably not since high school. It's funny how so much time can pass and yet, you get together and it's as if nothing's changed. I laughed so hard I got a side ache multiple times last night. It felt really great; I desperately miss that camaraderie.

p.s. Marley hates my computer -- he wants my undivided attention!

The Royal Treatment

I know, I'm behind on posting. Busy weekend! Here goes.

Even though I swore I was sick and tired of downtown bars, guess where I found myself Saturday evening? Just can't stay away. I met my friend at our usual meeting place, the parking ramp across from The Quest.

We made our rounds, starting with Rosen's, then Old Chicago, and ending with The Annex. When all three bars were dead, we were about to call it a night at 11 pm. Dejected, we headed to our cars, but during the walk, both managed to find back-up plans. She drove to Major's in Bloomington to meet up with one of her friends and I called GC, who was on her way to Bellanotte so I backtracked that direction.

GC was with her best friend and her cousin, whom I'd met the night at Acme Comedy Club. She happened to be celebrating her 21st birthday. As if I needed another reason to feel old!

GC and her BFF are regulars at Bella so they've gotten to know a few of the older gentlemen who frequent the place. After we all bought our first round of drinks, mine an $8.50 Captain Coke, the drinks just kept on coming from different men! The owner of one of the downtown clubs bought us drink #2. Halfway through the drink, he ordered a round of lemon drops. Approximately a minute and a half later, we were toasting Washington Apples. Barely had time to blink between shots!

Then we moved on to club NV to meet up with their other friends. Mixed feelings about the name of the club. GC and her BFF know the bouncers and door staff so there was no waiting in line or cover charge. While waiting in line at the bar, GC began talking to the random in front of her. When he asked what she wanted, she told him, "3 Grey Goose/pears." Nice work on her part! It was quite possibly the best drink I've ever had. Tasted like candy!

After the delicious drink, GC decided we should make a stop at the club, Aqua, right next door. Rather than wait in line, GC went right up to the bouncer and said, "Are you from North Dakota?" After they bonded over ND talk, the bouncer unclipped the velvet rope and let us in.

The embarrassing part was when we didn't have enough cash for cover. It was $10 a person. We were about to leave -- I was halfway down the exit stairs when GC called me back and we snuck past the door check woman.

Aqua was pretty cool. GC immediately started chatting up a random in VIP who invited us to join him and his crew -- half were women who shot us evil, bitchy looks the entire time. VIP dude poured each of us a shot of straight vodka so we grabbed a pitcher of orange juice to make mini screwdrivers in a double shot glass! I hadn't had a screwdriver since college -- it was a little rough going down, but we were troopers.

After our stint in VIP, we went back to NV for more dancing and fun. I assume I probably had another drink, but it's a little hazy. I do remember cutting myself off by turning down a shot when a Bella guy showed up and insisted on buying Birthday Girl another shot.

There weren't any funny guy stories, but I was approached by a Wingwoman. She pointed to her friend and said, "This is my friend. He's a really nice guy and I just want him to meet a cute girl with a career and a good head on her shoulders and you look like that." When I asked why she didn't hook up with him, she said he was like a brother to her.

She tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Isn't she beautiful?" and introduced us. She kept repeating that. He and I talked a little, but then I told him I had to find my friends, even though I knew exactly where they were, dancing in a large group just a few feet away. So the entire time we were dancing, he and his friends were standing right next to us. Kind of awkward, but oh well.

He was "okay" as far as attractiveness, but I was super turned off by the Wingwoman doing his work for him. It made me wonder if there was something wrong with him. Why did he need a girl friend to pick up women for him? Was he shy? Desperate? Either way, turn-off!

It was yet another crazy fun night with GC. In a brief phone conversation the following day, she claimed that was the most she'd had to drink in four years. Meanwhile, I was thinking, wow, I wasn't even the least bit hungover! Hmm, not sure if that's a good or bad thing...

1408 Brings Thrills

Horror isn't my genre so I'll spare you the review this time, but my mom and I saw 1408 (based on the Stephen King short story) this weekend. Very good! How can you not like John Cusack??

When the Shirt Doesn't Fit...

Earlier this week, Deborah said she tried on a cute, pink button-down top at Wal-mart, but the largest size they carried (18-22) didn't fit. Her solution: buy candy! Depressed and discouraged, she made a beeline for the candy aisle, purchasing several bags of assorted chocolates and the new dark chocolate Snickers bar she'd been searching for the past few weeks.

Career Motivation

In a very uncharacteristic move on my part, I asked for a raise yesterday. Shall I reap any benefits as a result? No clue. It was my second request and I've threatened to leave so many times, my company knows I'm full of empty threats. They don't take me seriously and why should they? By now, they've come to realize I'm seemingly content to stay at a lousy, dead-end job they could train a monkey to do. Mind you, I did ask a new boss (one of four) who genuinely respects and cares about his subordinates so here's to keeping my fingers crossed!

Last week, I chatted with a friend online regarding my work dilemma. He suggested setting a goal of finding a new job by Labor Day, which got me to thinking about the role motivation plays in life's decisions.

Friend: it's not like you're going from great job ---> great job
how would you describe your job?
ok?
terrible?
good?
awesome?

Me: depends, off-hand i'd say terrible because it's not challenging
but some days i enjoy not having to work, no pressure etc

Friend: sooooooo ur just lazy?
: P

Me: part of it
if i'm going to work hard, i'd at least like to do something meaningful though and corporate life will never fulfill that
or at least get paid tons of money in exchange for hard work

A new job by Labor Day sounds feasible. But here's what it comes down to: I don't care. Personally, I wouldn't get anything more out of another job unless it involved writing or working with animals. Granted, I'd love to make more money. Who wouldn't? But if I made more money, what would I do with it? If I were smart, save or invest; I'm realistic: I'd just spend more. However, over the last year, I've had my sights set on purchasing a condo or loft, preferably in the downtown area. For the meantime, my motivation stems from that aspiration. That's not to say I won't later cop out from the huge commitment attached to owning property.

On the flip side, for as much as I complain, you may be surprised to learn I don't always find my job that bad. For one, if it weren't for my boring job, my blog may not exist. If anything, I'd probably only post half of what I do now. In that respect, I am grateful for my dull, mind-numbing job. That, and all the Deborah material.

Here's the part where we're all reminded of Peter Gibbons (Ron Livingston) in Office Space.

Peter Gibbons: The thing is Bob, it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care.

Bob Porter: Don't...don't care?

Peter Gibbons: It's a problem of motivation, all right? Now if I work my ass off and Initech ships a few extra units, I don't see another dime, so where's the motivation? And here's something else Bob, I have eight different bosses right now.

Bob Porter: Eight?

Peter Gibbons: Eight, Bob. So that means when I make a mistake, I have eight different people coming by to tell me about it. That's my only real motivation is not to be hassled, that, and the fear of losing my job. But you know, Bob, that will only make someone work just hard enough not to get fired.

Deborah Does Grammar

"Why doesn't nobody feel sorry for me?"

"Ouch! That hurted!"

"Nothin's not going over."

"I tripped and almost felled."

"That's mine's."

"He balded his head." (balded = shaved)

Lucky Nose Rings

At some point, I plan to start a blog/column about dating and relationships. I've been addicted to this one, Single in the Suburbs, told by writer Sara Susannah Katz, a divorced, middle-aged mother of two. I love the way she uses her neurotic, witty humor to detail her online dating experiences.

Excerpt from her last installment:

Sunday, 1:30 a.m.
I brush my teeth, take my meds, and as I’m washing my face I realize that something is missing.

My nose ring.

Oh no. It must have fallen out in Kevin’s bed. I’ll mention it to him tomorrow but the chance of finding that thing — a silver post and teeny rhinestone — is almost nonexistent. I don’t want the hole to close up so I find an earring and try poking it through the hole. OUCH! I can’t even find the hole now. I take a deep breath and try again. OUCH! This is agony. I run downstairs and get an ice cube to numb the spot. One…two…three… OUCH! I am tempted to just let the damn thing close up, but this little nose ring seems to have brought me good fortune and so, like a baseball player who insists on wearing his lucky underwear, I will wear this nose ring even if it kills me.

I finally get it in on the third try and now my whole face is throbbing.

Priceless!! The exact same scenario happened to a friend of mine in college, almost word for word. Freshmen year, as a declaration of our newfound independence, we went to the local tattoo parlor in town where she got her nose pierced and I got my tongue pierced.

To her delight, a few weeks later, she hooked up with a guy she'd had her eye on since the first week of college. The only difference in her version was she interrupted their hot and heavy make-out session to puke in the sink of his dorm room, but it was back to business after that minor mishap! Romantic, no?

Hours later, she stumbled home, disheveled hair a mess, to find us sitting in the center of our dorm section. After getting the dirrrrty details, another friend of mine suddenly blurted out, "Where's your nose ring?"

Shocked and horrified to discover her nose ring missing, my friend was forced to shove a stud earring through her nose. I can't recall if we persuaded her to phone him right then and there, or if she waited until the following afternoon, but she later called to ask if he'd found her nose ring in his bed, or perhaps beside the sink. No such luck.

Sweaty Shirt Fund

I almost walked into the guys' locker room yesterday. The club near work is under construction so they temporarily switched the mens' and womens' locker rooms and boy, is their side disgusting. Also due to construction, the club will not be open June 22-29 so that's just fantastic news right as I begin my marathon training. Running sucked yesterday. 5 days off + drinking + late-night, greasy food = bad.

I fully intend to make a suggestion to Lifetime for a Sweaty Shirt Fund, which will benefit not only those forced to wring out their shirt after working out, but will also vastly improve the overall experience for every member of the club. You see, there have been numerous occasions I've felt physically ill when faced with the sight of this:













If this is you, do yourself and everyone else a favor by investing in nylon or alternative moisture-absorbing fabric gym apparel! I know it's more expensive, but trust me, no one wants to get within five feet of someone who looks like they've just had a bucket of water hurled at them. And don't even get me started on smell...

Oh, and if you profusely sweat, gray is NOT a good color!

Why Men Don't Ask for Directions

If you thought I would enlighten you, you thought wrong. I was merely stating the hypothetical question we may never know the answer to.

Here's one response I heard recently from a male friend:

"It's admitting defeat."

Any thoughts?? Guys?

Sarah Jessica Parker's Bitten Clothing Line

After a friend informed me the cute tank top in her myspace photo was from Sarah Jessica Parker's new clothing line, Bitten, I felt compelled to check it out. So yesterday I did just that.

My very first Steve & Barry's experience was a couple years ago in Detroit when I visited the ex during his project for work at the time. During the day while he was working, there wasn't much to do other than go to the mall, conveniently within walking distance of the hotel. I mostly recall $8 college sweatshirts and my astonishment at how Steve & Barry's could sell clothing for such unbelievable prices!

They opened a Steve & Barry's in the Burnsville Center about a year ago, but yesterday was my first look-see. I must say, their style of clothing has really evolved from two years ago. They now offer a much wider variety of apparel. I've heard people express disappointment with SJP's line -- don't expect to find clothes like she wears on Sex & the City, but do expect to find very reasonably priced clothes. Style-wise, the clothes are reminiscent of The Gap or Old Navy, but a step above Old Navy with more affordable prices.

Of all things, the worst part about my Bitten experience was SJP's voice taunting me the entire time. The mounted, flat-screen TV's continually showed her talking about Bitten and her desire to create affordable clothing for women of all shapes and sizes. Blah, blah, blah. It got to be annoying real quick, but at the same time, it's so hard not to love her! Or more accurately, we all know and love Carrie Bradshaw and struggle to differentiate the two! Especially those like me who watch SATC on DVD like there's no tomorrow.

You be the judge. Here's what I came out with yesterday:















I debated over this -- jean jackets don't look right on me, but this was so cute, I couldn't resist. I love the flared sleeves best. Only $14.98!!















Just a plain 3/4 length button-down shirt. Nothing fancy or extra, but heck, only $9.98 so I stocked up for my work wardrobe. I got black, white, and pale pink.















This black/metallic silver striped tote/bag caught my fancy for $9.98.

Side note: I probably would have walked out with super cute, dark denim jeans as well, but they were out of my size!! I was bummed.

SJP's Manifesto:

"It is every woman's inalienable right to have a pulled-together, stylish, confident wardrobe with money left over to live. Get bitten."

Manifesto? Inalienable? I wonder if they have a low-budget for writers. I strongly dislike the verbiage; leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Carrie -- aren't you supposed to be a writer or something??

Marley's First Vet Visit

Welcome to Marley's Corner. So I bought this cheap thing on sale at Target last week. Not one to pay much attention to directions, it wasn't until I nearly had the thing built that I discovered a vital blue plastic part was missing. Alas, I took it apart, returned to Target for an even exchange and got to re-do it all over again.

Marley seems to enjoy his little playhouse. When he's in this lower fort area, he likes to chase his own tail.

He had his first vet visit last Friday. The vet techs and vets were all "ooohing" and "ahhhing" over him. I would've thought they'd be so accustomed to seeing cute kittens and puppies all day that it wouldn't faze them, but I suppose they don't call them animal lovers for nothin'.

The vet said he is definitely part Abyssinian. After Googling some pics, I can really tell that's the case. Especially with his coloring and big ears. Speaking of, they discovered he has ear mites. Ew! So they said it's not a big deal, but they gave me some medication to apply twice each day for a week to get rid of the bugs.

At least his first vet exam is out of the way. He had his second distemper shot, rabies vaccination, feline leukemia & FIV test and complimentary nail trim.

It's Blogging Day

Indeed, it is. Also Father's Day, so happy day to any fathers out there, in case you're reading.

Last night was one long, tortuous buzzkill. Bitchy drunk side was out in full force -- just ask the front door bouncer at the Imperial Room. When I handed him my drivers' license, he ordered me to smile, which aggravated me even more because I thought he was double-checking my I.D. Turns out, I just looked pissed off so he thought he'd point it out! How thoughtful of him...

It was a night of dowtown bar-hopping: Old Chicago, Champps, Imperial Room, The Lone Tree. And it didn't come to an end at 2, for we cabbed it to Little Tijuana's. Fatties need food. The neverending buzzkills refused to cease particularly when my friend and I sat outside for 45 minutes after Little T's waiting for a cab. Eventually, it got to be too late, no cabs in sight, so I had to call for one.

It wasn't as terrible of a night as I made it out to sound, but sometimes having no plan really blows. Weekend tally:

Buzzkills: 1
Fun: 0

Oh yeah, my friend forced me to dance with some dork who approached us. He was the worst dancer ever. His only "move" was to twirl me -- I felt like such an idiot doing the stupid twirl. Pretty sure the rest of my friends were having a lot more fun as they mocked me in the corner of the dance floor.

Knocked Up: Funnier than your Average Flick

A friend of mine was gracious enough to see this movie for a second time in a week avec moi. Yup, can you believe it? I went to a movie, not the bar, on a Friday night!

This movie got talked up quite a bit from friends of mine. Indeed, it was rather humorous, but when you hear rave reviews, you have such high expectations. I think The 40-Year-Old Virgin reigns superior, but Knocked Up is a close second.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Jay Baruchel from the show Undeclared on the big screen! The show centered around Jay's character, Steven Karp, and his friends as they endured trial-by-error college freshmen experiences. Unfortunately, it was cancelled after one season despite it's true-to-life hilarity. Jay, his character in Knocked Up, had his funny moments, but the slacker friends (all go by their actual first names and buds in real life) of Ben Stone (Seth Rogen) lacked the character development of the uniquely defined personalities in The 40-Year-Old Virgin.

However, there were two secondary characters with terrific lines: Jodi (Charlyne Yi) and Jill (Kristen Wiig). Jodi is the stoner girlfriend of Ben's buddy, Martin and Jill works at E! with Allison Scott (Katherine Heigl). Both Yi and Wiig deliver side-splitting one-liners.

One thing that annoyed me in the film was how characters occasionally went apeshit on one another for no apparent reason, which I didn't find funny. It came off as more of an excuse for profanity and obscenities, which granted may have been comical, but didn't seem very realistic.

It was fun to see three guys play minor roles from The Office: Steve Carell, B.J. Novak, and Craig Robinson. I wonder if they are all friends of director Judd Apatow.

What are you waiting for? Go see Knocked Up!

Sex: It is what it is

Question: Do people in their 20's use the term "making love?"

I sure as hell hope not. That sounds so terribly old-fashioned -- like what your dad said to your mom the first time they....you know. *Shudder* Moving on...

I could research the origin of the term, but I'm lazy. I imagine it dates back to when sex was much more of a taboo topic. C'mon people, we turn a blind eye at violence and dropping f-bombs in the entertainment industry, how long before use of the words "making love" is obsolete?

If a friend told me they "made love" to their husband, boyfriend or random one-night stand, my obituary would read: wearingthepants, 26, passed away unexpectedly from maniacal fit of uncontrollable laughter. Survived by adorable kitten, Marley.

While sex is part of love, it's not the equivalent of love. If you're doing it with a stranger or someone you're not in love with, you certainly aren't "making love." You're having sex. If you want to get technical, the only thing you're potentially "making" is a baby. Or loud noises. One friend is said to sound like Chewbacca. But I digress.

I could compile a long list of alternate words for "making love" but it's hardly necessary. So why not call it what it is? Sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

Depressed? Get Married.

"A recent study suggests that marriage provides a greater psychological boost to depressed people than to happy people, even if the marriage is so-so."

Interesting article.

"It could be that marriage provides the companionship and emotional support needed to help alleviate depression."

Father's Day Gifts

Do you have yours yet? This morning I received an email from Bath & Body Works promoting their semi-annual sale for Father's Day gifts.

My dad used bar soap to wash his hair before he met my mom. He's never worn cologne a day in his life. I'm sure Bath & Body's Cool Spring modern scent foaming shave gel, body spray and shower gel rank at the top of his list!!

Marley's First Purr

I thrash around in my sleep too much for Marley, for he's been sleeping under the bed. But during my last hour of sleep this morning, he jumped up on the bed and made himself comfortable by curling his body around my neck, assuming a spooning position to sleep. When I awoke, I heard him purr for the first time! Awww. He purred again when I arrived home from work and knelt down to pet him. I've only had him a week and I can already tell he's growing -- he's filled out some and looks longer!! His high-pitched meow sounds funny...he needs to go through puberty!