Happy Birthday, Little Sister

Miss you. And all the good times.



I don't so much miss the sunburns.

** The Tyrant apologizes for the blatant display of nudity.

C.T.

A Moment of Reflection: The Downy Ball
I have only recently embraced this amazing contraption, this bundle of genius in ball form known as the Downy Ball.

Almost nothing on earth makes me quite so happy as the smell of fabric softener. I love when my clothes reek of the stench of fabric softener. I love when I walk through my laundry room and I am punched in the face by the pungent aroma of fabric softener.

I wish I could fart fabric softener. I really do.

So I'm always on a quest to make my clothes smell as good as possible for as long as possible. I've gone so far as to throw as many as 5 fabric softener sheets into the dryer with a load of clothes. Nevermind that it's a waste of fabric softener. I want that smell infused into every thread of every piece of my clothing.

It is never enough. It has been a futile quest for all fabric softener, all the time. I am never satisfied with the scent of my clothing. It has to be the right fabric softener scent, and in the correct dosage.

I want more fabric softener. Always more.

Then I discovered the Downy Ball. Albeit about 10 years after everyone else on the planet has discovered it, but whatever. What matters is, I am in.

This one tiny ball that holds liquid fabric softener harnesses the power of at least 10 mighty fabric softener sheets. It literally melds the scent of fabric softener into my clothing, attaching itself into every oraface. The scent and the clothing become one.

Then, just for safe measure, I toss in a fabric softener sheet while the clothes are in the dryer. It's Downy Ball, plus Downy sheet.

It's fabric softener heaven. But will I ever truly be satisfied? Will I ever stop wanting more?

I don't even stop at the recommended fill line on the Downy Ball. I always put more liquid in the ball. There is too much room left in the ball NOT to add more liquid. I want to be seeped in fabric softener. I bought the large bottle of Downy that promises to do 80 loads of clothes. I doubt my bottle will last through 40 loads.

I over-soften. But it's sooooooooooooo good.

And how does it work? This mystery ball. How does it know when to release the fabric softener goodness at precisely the right moment? I fill it, I pull that little plug, I sit it on top of my laundry, I start the machine. And then it works it's magic.

It's smart, and it smells good. What more could anyone want in life?

Thank you, Downy Ball. I love you.

C.T.

I'd like to thank the Screen Actors Guild...
... because that's who you thank when you win a SAG award.

Tonight was the annual Screen Actors Guild Awards show. Had no idea? Well, it's only the most boring and pointless of the awards shows, and it's on TBS. If you didn't know about it, it's probably because you had ANYTHING better to do than watch this show. It's two hours of pure boredom on a random cable network, for the sole purpose of actors giving other actors awards for being actors.

Super lame.

I taped the show so I could fast-foward through it. Here are the highlights (and I had to work really hard to come up with anything to write about):

1. The opening of the show was the dumbest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. The camera found five or so actors in the audience, sitting at their tables with their half-eaten plates of food, and they each read a prepared heartfelt statement on why they are actors. It went something like this:

I told my mom when I was 7 that I wanted to be an actor, and even though they laughed at me when I would recite record albums to them from start to finish because we couldn't afford a tv, and even though they couldn't afford to feed my other 6 brothers and sisters, my parents still took me to acting class everyday. Now I make enough money to buy them and all of my brothers and sisters, including the ones in prison for selling drugs for lunch money when we were teenagers. I'm Susie Smith, and I'm an actor. (the crowd goes wild)

What's worse is that the people sitting around them I guess were told to pretend they aren't paying attention to whoever is talking to the camera. They're all looking off in different directions, or at the whole thing being played out on the giant screens. And that just made the whole thing more lame, like these actors took a bite, swallowed, set down their fork, and then decided to talk the camera that just happened to be sitting there and tell us their lame story about why they are an actor.

You know, like those lame commercials where some old dude is sitting on his porch reading the paper and all of the sudden he looks up and starts talking about how he needs more fiber, as though we are passing by and asked, "Hey old dude, do you get enough fiber in your diet?"

Totally unnatural.

2. No one ever says the word "actress". Painstakingly so. The point is that they are Screen Actors, whether they are male or female. So the category is Best Actor in a Female Role, instead of Best Actress. Which really could be a dude playing a woman, I guess.

3. Again, this is the most boring show on the planet. Even the pre-recorded "shtick" piece about commercial actors and how hard it is to be in commercials was super lame, because it bordered on not being funny to the point of not knowing if it was supposed to be funny. I mean, was the guy who plays the Fruit of the Loom grapes really proud of that? Or was he being sarcastic and going for a laugh? I couldn't tell. Maybe that's why he's just a commercial actor, and not winning that Best Actor in a Female Role award.

4. I mean, I even really like Shirley Temple. I have always liked her. Who doesn't? But I could not have cared less about her tribute. Boring. And then Jamie Lee Curtis walked out to talk about Shirley Temple some more, and it got more boring. I was very thankful for my fast-forward button. Poor Shirley was dancing super fast on my screen. It was pretty sweet that way.

5. I'm pretty sure that when the cast of LOST won the Ensemble award and the whole cast came up to get the award (including Walt who we can't find on the island but was kind enough to show up in a tux for a free dinner and a shiny trophy), Locke was on stage in a tuxedo and flip-flops. FLIP-FLOPS. And why were the dead castaways there? They really haven't added much to the show this year, being dead and all. Do they get a turn holding the trophy? I'm not sure they've earned, being dead and all.

6. To all future award shows, please make sure Sandra Oh ALWAYS wins something. I don't care what it is. And really, I don't even like her that much or think her character on Grey's Anatomy is all that great. But she's so flighty when she wins, and her speeches are so rambly and awesome, I just like to see her win for the pure entertainment of the moment. And I'm glad they sat her closer to the stage than at the Golden Globes. She hardly got lost at all.

7. Brokeback Mountain didn't win anything. And now that I've seen the movie, I'm glad. It's not that great. Lots of other stuff that I haven't see yet and that is winning stuff already, those movies seem better just by the clips I've seen on these award shows.

8. All of the Actors in the Guild should pool their money and buy new teleprompters for next year. The prompters kept breaking during the show, and despite being actors, the actors reading the prompters sure didn't have a clue what to do when their words suddenly disappeared. Too many awkward reading moments.

9. I like that the Actors Guild doesn't care about Directors, Screenwriters, or any of that other stuff, like at the Oscars. Sure, there were Directors there because they have to show up to support their movies. But I like that the Actors make the Directors come to their show, make them sit there and watch them give each other awards, and then they don't give the Directors anything except a free dinner. Ha!

10. Even in fast-forward, I wasted too much of my evening trying to enjoy this awards show. It's just not possible. No one cares what actors think about other actors. There was no drama, no humor, no fanfare. It's like they know we don't care, so they don't even try to make it worth watching. It's very disappointing to those of us who can't help but watch anyway, for the love of awards shows.

I take it back. I DON'T thank the Screen Actors Guild. The only thing they ever gave me was a boring awards show. And more than I ever wanted to know about the guy who plays the Fruit of the Loom grapes.

Bring on the next awwards show!

C.T.

The most impossible task in the world
I've decided today that the most impossible task in the world is to win concert tickets from a radio station.

I hear of people doing it all the time. I've heard it at least three times this weekend. But I don't understand how it is done.

I've tried. Several times. This weekend. I want to win tickets to Sheryl Crow in March. I am too cheap to pay for tickets. But I want to go. So I thought, hey I'll win tickets and then I can go for free and that will be more fun than going for non-free.

Not so easy, my friends.

Is there some trick to winning tickets? It seems simple enough. Listen to the station. When you hear the signal to call and be caller 10, call. Be caller 10. Win tickets.

First, I can only stand to listen to one radio station for about two minutes. I hate radio. I've had the worst time making myself listen to this station long enough to hear the call-for-tickets signal. Which is part of the problem.

I'm trying to do something else while I have the radio on (like type this blog, or watching TV with the TV on mute), but I get bored and I quit paying attention to the radio. Then it's too late. Once you hear the signal, it's already too late to START calling. You have to start dialing, like, yesterday to get through when it's time to call.

I have the phone number on speed dial. But no matter how quick I am to hit "send", over and over, every time I get a busy signal. How do people get through?

I've been tracking the times during the hour that they do the ticket giveaways, so that I don't have to sit here and listen all day. I only listen when it gets close to time for the giveaway. It's not entirely consistent. This is a problem.

And why are so many people listening to a radio station in the middle of a Saturday? What are all of these people doing that they have nothing better to do but tie up the phone line and win my tickets? I'm about to go insane listening to one station for so long. I'm not sure free tickets to Sheryl are worth this torture.

They've played the same songs over and over again, all day. Really, I'm not listening that much. It's just on. Yet every time I turn it on or pay attention, it is a song I've already heard at least three times today. I've heard Electric Avenue like, four times.

THAT IS JUST MEAN!

It's like only 18 songs exist in the whole world, and the challenge for radio stations everyday is to play those 18 songs in a different order, hoping to fool anyone who is listening.

I am not fooled. I know there are only 18 songs in the world, and I've heard all of them today...108 times.

Give me my tickets. I've earned them by effort alone.

C.T.

Decade Three: My Teeth
I don't want to give too much away with the title of this post, but let's just say I came up with a new slogan for myself today.

A goal of mine throughout my recent past several years has been to make it to the age of 30 without any cavities. Impossible, you say? Well, let me tell you my story.

To acheive my goal of being cavity-free until at least the age of 30, I have spent the last several years going through a vigorous dental routine, including not going to the dentist, brushing once, sometimes twice a day, never flossing, and using the Oral B electric toothbrush at MOST a dozen times a year.

Until today, I had not gone to the dentist in at least 5 years. I lost track, so it could very well be longer than that.

The last time I visited my regular dentist, I received my usual excellent rave review. I am usually in and out in 30 minutes or less, including x-rays and cleaning. My last visit put me on the dentist's favorites list, favorite for good hygiene, never having had a cavity, and being an easy patient. This did not earn me any money or prizes, but I like to be on the A-List whenever possible.

Don't get me wrong, I hate going to the dentist. I especially hate the crunchy toothpaste that leaves crunchy particles on my teeth for the rest of the day. But, I usually leave the dentist's office with a sense of accomplishment, having no cavities and making my dentist proud.

The funny thing is, I don't know where I got such good teeth. My parents (God love them both) were not blessed with strong, pearly whites. Words like "cavity", "root canal", "crowns", and "dental torture" come to mind when thinking of their teeth. I seem to have somehow NOT inherited the bad teeth gene.

Sure, as a kid I had horribly crooked teeth that required years of braces and whatnot. I've had my wisdom teeth pulled. But when it comes to healthy teeth, I've always had amazing teeth.

I repeat, I have NEVER had a cavity.

So, after I finished my last awesome dental visit somewhere around the age of 25, my dentist did warn that although I have so far had really great teeth, as I get older and probably by the next few visits to the dentist, I will begin to have cavities.

I took this as a challenge. I will make it to age 30 WITHOUT any cavities. I will prove him wrong.

I then proceeded to not take any more special care of my teeth than I ever did before. But I figured if I don't ever go back to the dentist for him to tell me I have a cavity, and if I wait until after I turn 30, I will accomplish my goal of being cavity-free at the age of 30.

This is what I have done.

Fast forward to this month, I learn at work that I have a lot of flex-spending money to use up before I lose it in the next few months. I am advised to visit lots of doctors and... the dentist, to use up this money.

Fine. I will go to the dentist. But not until AFTER I turn 30.

I turned 30 two days ago, and today I went to the dentis.

Over the weekend I was sure to brush my teeth a lot with the Oral B. My standard routine before I visit a dentist is to rediscover good oral hygiene by brushing and flossing the heck out of my teeth starting a few days before my appointment. Somehow I believe this truly rids my mouth of months, nay years of tooth funk that I would not want my dentist to see. I also believe this magically heals any cavity that may be lurking in there, which I also do not want my dentist to discover.

Kids, don't try this at home. Brushing and flossing thoroughly for three days before a trip to the dentist does NOT make up for months or years of poor dental hygiene. Unless you are me.

Today, I got up early for the first dentist appointment of the day, at a brand new dentist that I chose at random out of my insurance book. I had a fair amount of confidence that I would continue on without having any cavities after today. But I also had a fair amount of anticipation that today could be the day that my first cavity would be discovered by this new dentist. And not only would it be one cavity, but it would have about 18 cavity friends.

I would deserve it. I've been careless with my teeth cleaning routine. I haven't been to the dentist in years. I had all the classic indicators that I was due for a cavity, including a cocky attitude and sense of boastfulness about my lack of cavities to this point in my life. Friends, family, and co-workers insisted that I would have cavities this time around.

I dreaded getting to work today and having to report that yes, Miss Cavity-Free finally has a cavity. Her teeth are no longer amazing. She is no longer unique. Her mouth is just like everyone else's.

The dentist poked around. X-rays were taken. Scraping took place. Crunchy toothpaste was used. Flouride was swished around. And after about 25 minutes when all was said and done he said....

"Everything looks good to me. See you next time."

Yeah, in like another FIVE YEARS, dude!!!

I AM STILL CAVITY-FREE!!!

I cannot tell you how excited I am about achieving this goal. I have been floating on air today. This means that even though I didn't go to the dentist for like, 5 years, I still had no cavities during that time, and I didn't have to pay anyone to tell me that. And today it only cost $5! That's like, $1 per year for good teeth!

One of two things is true in this situation:
1. This new dentist sucks and couldn't recognize a mouth full of cavities if it came with a cavity-themed parade.

or...

2. My teeth are just really ridiculously awesome. They are like super heroes and should be given capes and a theme song and they will fly around with their capes, but they won't really save anyone or anything from bad stuff because they are just teeth. Just exceptionally marvelous teeth.

I like #2 best.

My new slogan that I thought of after I left the dentist is:

Decade Three, Cavity-Free!

To all of you who didn't believe in me and who now hate me because I just have really, really ridiculously good teeth, I am going to go eat cake now, then go to bed without brushing my teeth.

C.T.

PS: Because I am so boasty about my teeth, I will probably be stricken with 108 cavities tomorrow. But I can't help it. I'm just really excited to be 30 and cavity-free.

How My Birthday is Very Much Like MLK Day, only BETTER
I'll get to that in a moment. But first, some thoughts about my 30th birthday, which took place over the weekend.

It truly was a weekend of celebration, as young and old alike gathered to watch me gracefully enter another decade. We only start a new decade a handful of times in our lifetime (unless we are those people who manage to live past 100, and quite honestly I'm not sure I want to begin a new century - these decade changes are hard enough.) So really, the start of each new decade should be celebrated with much fanfare and rejoicing.

Highlights include (but are not limited to):

1. A haircut - what better way to start your 30s than with good hair? It's a must for any new 30-year old.

2. A housecleaning - what better way to start a new decade than to clean out all the crap from the decade before, then show off your sparkling home to a whole lot of people.

3. Newly painted furniture - technically this took place the weekend before I achieved 30, but it was done to prepare for the new decade, so it counts. It's like all new furniture, cost about $35, and it is fabulous.

4. A nap - before the celebration of aging another decade, one deserves a thorough napping. It was just what I needed, until the phone rang. But it was a phone call related to my party, so all was well.

5. Have a big party - what better way to start a new decade than to have 30 or 40 of your closest friends show up, hang out, bring a party with them, and stick around until the wee hours of the night. Plus, no chairs were broken, which made the entire evening quite magical.

6. Have a surprise guest - what better way to flaunt being much older than most of your friends than to see Friend C fresh off of a plane from New York, in your house, unexpected, and bearing pizza and cake? I am super impressed that folks were able to pull this stunt off, and I still can't believe she came all the way from New York just to watch me turn 30. Apparently, it's quite an exciting thing to witness live and in person. I am honored that she was here for me. Best surprise of my 30s so far...

7. Have brunch with your parents - it might seem cruel to make your daughter get up before noon on her birthday, after a late night with houseguests, but since I am now old and unable to sleep late, it was perfect. I was up, I was hungry, and I was looking forward to the company of my folks. What better way to start a new decade of aging than on a full stomach and with the ones who birthed you?

8. 30 gifts for 30 years - immediately following brunch, opening 30 gifts from your parents (one for every year they've known and loved me) is an EXCELLENT way to bring in the new decade. Each gift, so thoughtful, so perfect. It was another fabulous surprise for a birthday well done. Even my 17-year old dog got me a card and signed it herself. So thoughtful...

9. Watch the Miss America Pageant with 8 or so of your closest chick friends - with Frind C still in tow (I got her all weekend!) we gathered to watch the DVR'd fabulousness of one of America's favorite pasttimes, the Miss America Pageant. With leftover goodies from the birthday bash, plus more goodies prepared by one of our very own Betty Crockers, Friend E, we embarked on several hours of snide, sarcastic, beauty pageant fun. And we hate Miss Oklahoma. Sorry, but it's true.

10. Go to church - especially while wearing your "It's My Birthday" t-shirt, and especially if your church gives you more gifts and praise for achieving 30! I know church should really be about God, but last night I'm pretty sure it was all about me. At least for me it was.

11. Make your church go to dinner wherever you want to go - I don't know that it was exactly where I wanted to go, but since I didn't know where I wanted to go and it wasn't anywhere I didn't want to go, I was happy.

12. After a weekend full of celebration, take the day off from work - here is where my birthday is like MLK Day, only better.

Reasons why my Birthday is like MLK Day -
Almost everyone I know had last Monday off from work to celebrate the good Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. However, I did NOT have that day off from work, nor do I EVER get that day off.

But at my place of employment, we do get one day off in honor of our very own birthday. So I have taken today off from work, making today TCT Day (The Cynical Tyrant Day).

While all of you were off last Monday as I worked relentlessly all the livelong day, today I am off from work, doing whatever I want, while all of YOU work relentlessly, all the livelong day.

I have not done anything to change history, or mankind, and I rarely have a dream that changes the world in any way. I don't get a parade (except for the one going on in my head right now). But, today is all about me. Just like whatever Monday that is closest to MLK's birthday is all about him.

I am celebrating my personal holiday by doing laundry (don't judge me as weird, but not many things make me quite so happy as the smell of fabric softener in the morning - I just hate that that usually involves the act of doing laundry). I am watching movies, eating leftover cake, I haven't showered, yet, and I am finally letting it sink in that I am, in fact, now 30. A new decade has begun. It was fun this weekend, but alas, reality has set in.

I am getting old.

If I hear ONE MORE PERSON tell me that 30 is the new 20, I will think up something tortuously horrible to do to you, and you will not like it. I am 30, and I'm having a little trouble thinking of something horrible to do. Or perhaps since my memory is failing much more so than two days ago at 29, I have thought up something horrible and have simply forgotten what that was.

But since the only people who say that 30 is the new 20 are much younger than 30, just shut up. Right now.

I don't wish for my 20s back. Those were some tough years. But, I wish we got, like a free decade. One decade of aging that didn't add up in years. You keep counting years until you turn 21. Because everyone WANTS to get to 21. Then you stop counting for a few years. You learn stuff, you make mistakes, you become wiser and more mature. You get your stuff together. THEN you go back to counting the years that go by, when you're good and ready to continue getting older.

To sum up, my 30th birthday celebration was far more wonderful than I could have hoped for. I am behind on returning phone calls and emails wishing me good birthday thoughts. I behind on thank-yous for all of the wonderful things people did for me this weekend to make it a good birthday. So for now, this will have to do.

Thank you to each of you who planned, participated, got on a plane to be here, drove north of the Loop to gather at my house for celebration, fed me, lavished gifts upon me, and humored me all weekend long by yelling sweet "happy birthdays" in my ever-aging ears. It's not at all the birthday celebration, or even the cast of characters I ever imagined having when you think of one day turning 30, or even throughout this last year of ups and downs and whatnot and so forth.

Fortunately, it was MUCH much better than what I could have imagined. It rocked. I felt super loved and appreciated this weekend, and I assure you that was much needed.

I was reminded this weekend of how many wonderful people are in my world and how blessed I am to know each of you, near and far. Each of you has a special place in my universe, and I consider it one of my favorite achievements of my first 30 years to know you and call you friends and family. However you fit into this weekend, and into my life at this time, thank you for being there and for making Day 1 of being 30 totally sweet.

And by sweet, I mean really friggin' awesome.

See? I'm not so old that I can't keep up with the street lingo of you younguns these days....

Much love-
C.T. - 30 and counting...

29 going on 30
I only have about a day left to accomplish all of the things I wanted to do before turning 30. I don't really remember what all of them are, but I think a few of them are probably this:

Make my first million.
Travel more of the world than I have so far.
Publish a novel.
Make a movie.
Win an Oscar, a Grammy, and a Teen Choice Award.
Win a gold medal at the Olympics.
Bike 100 miles, all on the same day, without getting lost.
Become America's Next Top Model.
Retire.

This past week, the week leading up to the big three-oh, it suddenly occured to me that I have a lot to do before turning 30. And little time to do it.

I think I'll start with a nap. I'm pretty exhausted just thinking about it.

C.T.

Burning stuff: Don't do it
Here in North Texas, we are under what is currently known as a Burn Ban. We've had a lot of dry, windy weather. This makes for brittle grass that catches fire easily and burns uncontrollably.

Thus, much of North Texas is not allowed to burn stuff outside.

Thankfully, our public announcement venues are helping us remember the Ban. As I drove down the highway today, I was comforted by the flashing signs along the way:

ARSON/BURN BAN
IN EFFECT

It's times like these when fire is more dangerous than ever that it's good to know that ARSON is banned.

On a normal, non fire-threatening day? Sure! Go ahead and ARSON all you want. It's not banned, per say, specifically, according to the highway signs.

But right now, ARSON is most definitely banned.

Good to know.

We can only hope that our friendly neighborhood arsonists are heeding these signs and warnings.

C.T.

I'd like to thank the Hollywood Foreign Press...
... but I have no idea what that is. I mean, really. Does anyone even know that?

Like anyone could even know that.

It's my favorite time of year: award show season!

I loves me some award shows because I love famous people in pretty clothes. I don't care what the award is, I will watch an award show.

Tonight I spent some quality time with the Golden Globes. Here are my thoughts:

1. No one knows what the Hollywood Foreign Press is, especially the foreign guy from Palestine who won for Best Foreign Movie. He had to ask the other guy on stage what it was. If the foreign people don't know what it is, it likely doesn't exist. But I guarantee you, next time I am posing as a member of the press to sneak my way into an event, I am totally going as a Hollywood Foreign Press reporter.

2. There is no need for EVERYONE to thank this Hollywood Foreign Press. I say the first award winner gets up there, thanks the HFP on behalf of everyone the rest of the night, and we move on. It's a given that the HFP gave the award (apparently). All that thanking is just really unnecessary.

3. I love that the Golden Globes don't cut off the speeches with theme music. You can get up there and talk all the livelong night if you want. You can thank everyone you've ever met. They're not going to cut you off. Sometimes that's bad, like tonight when Geena Davis kept going on and on about a story that she then said she made up. But mostly, I like that they can talk as much as they want. You can bet when I win a Golden Globe, I'm thanking everyone I've ever known, in alphabetical order. Except for the people I don't like. I will make a separate list and un-thank them while I'm up there.

4. Harrison Ford was totally drunk. And really, really old. What happened, Indiana Jones? You used to be so cool, and then you got your ear pierced and hooked up with Ally McBeal.

5. Sweetest moment of the night was when Mary Louise Parker beat out all four Desperate Housewives to win some award for Best Actress in some category. I can't tell you how sick I am of the Housewives. Yay for Mary Louise. And I haven't seen Felicity Huffman's transvestite movie, but even though I have seen a few Desperate Housewives episodes I will probably only ever see her as a man from now on. She's just kinda man-ish.

6. But really, why does everyone get up there and thank everyone who had anything to do with the film? Don't the people involved already know who they are? And haven't they already been paid a whole lot of money? And don't they realize that the people watching at home have no idea who any of those people are, nor do we care? Think about it. You are thanking really rich and famous people for making it possible for you to become more rich and famous by picking you to do something in their movie that earns you an award. And the people who truly pay your salary (by paying hard-earned money to see your movies) and who make it possible for you to continue making movies and winning awards are at home in their pjs on the couch making fun of whatever you are wearing while you thank your wardrobe stylist.

You should thank less people and just use that time to tell me a funny story. Or explain what you are wearing and why.

Or, everyone should really get up there and thank me. By name. For every award that they win. I'm the one who makes it ALL possible because if you are famous, I am interested in EVERYTHING you do. I don't know why. I just am.

7. Next year I recommend putting the tables somewhat less close together. I mean, it's not like they can't control the number of tables and chairs. Next year, invite a few less of the lame celebrities. Or at least don't invite the people we know aren't going to win anything. That way there is more room on the floor, less tables are needed, and we don't have to watch Sandra Oh get lost and stumble over EVERY SINGLE CHAIR between her chair and the stage. I mean, seriously. It's like she had no idea which way the stage was. But her rambling speech was awesome.

And I'm pretty sure at one point I saw Emma Thomspon sitting on Ang Lee's lap, which tells me maybe she didn't even have a chair all night. She had to lap hop.

8. Why a globe? Could they not think of anything more creative than "round"? Or were they just going for the alliteration of the "g" sound? And really, the statue is not very globe-ish. It is on top. But to me a Golden Globe should really be just a big ball of gold. Like a bowling ball, only slightly smaller. And with the winner's initials on it. Like a bowling ball again.

9. I have a lot of movies yet to see before the Oscars. I may need some help with this. I'm recruiting volunteers. And I'll be sure to thank each of you next time I win something.

10. Last but not least, if it ain't brokeback, it's ain't gonna win.

I can't think of anything else at the moment, but that's only because I'm prety tired. I'll step up my game in time for the Oscars. And the Grammy's. And the Miss America Pageant.

It's award season, y'all!!

C.T.

If anyone needs to wear a nickel on a necklace,
I happen to have a nickel with a hole in it.

Just, you know. If that's something anyone would want.

We could work something out.

You should probably snatch it up before I try to put it in the Coke machine tomorrow.

C.T.

Today's Discoveries

1. It is really hard to drink red Powerade without leaving a red Powerade mustache on my upper lip. I brought red Powerade to work today because I'm still trying to replenish losing pretty much all of my body fluids while being sick last week. I should have gone with a different shade of Powerade. Not exactly professional, what with the red mustache and all...

2. Watch this show.



It's on PBS. I stumbled upon it by accident tonight. I won't say anything else about it, so as not to taint your impressions of it. You can catch part 2 tomorrow night and part 3 Wednesday night.

3. Do not wait until the day the postage rates go up to buy your two-cent stamps. Everyone else waited until today to buy two-cent stamps for the postage rate increase, and I met ALL of them in line at the post office today while there to buy 4 two-cent stamps. That is eight cents, people. 20 minutes in line for the 8 cents that came between me being able to mail pieces of First Class Mail today versus two days ago. You do the math.

4. Three days of eating nothing but crackers, a piece of toast, and Powerade leaves me tired on Day Four after only my morning shower. Who knew showers took so much energry? The rest of the day was pretty much useless.

Except for the two-cent stamps.

Totally worth it.

C.T.

Lysol
We all use it when germs run amock. Yet, we all continue to get sick. People never quit getting sick no matter how much Lysol is used in all the land.

So, I question that Lysol even works.

It promises to kill tons of germs on contact. It is what we all use when we've been sick to "rid our houses" of these illness-inducing germs.

Yet, we continue to need more Lysol because germs still come and make us sick.

I have effectively drowned my entire house with Lysol after being sick this weekend. But what if I'm only spraying funky-smelling aerosol that does nothing more than lead me to believe my house is now germ-free? All the while not really killing any germs...

What if it's really just setting a trap? I will think I am no longer sick, and I will think I am no longer living in a house brewing with infectious germiness. But, what if it really doesn't live up to all the hype?

If Lysol really worked, wouldn't the company soon be out of business? Wouldn't we no longer need Lysol?

Wouldn't we never be sick again?

I smell something fishy. Or lemony, rather.

Lysol-scented conspiracy.

C.T.

Three-Day Weekend
Normally a three-day weekend would be tons of fun. But since this one started unexpectedly, and I've been in bed for all but about 6 hours of it, I would like to officially trade in two of my three days of weekend for two more GOOD days of weekend. It's just not fair to be sick on the weekend.

I won't blame God, or my pastor, or even my church. But all I'm saying is that on Thursday I had dinner with my pastor, then I went to my church and worked late, then I went home and spent all the livelong night throwing up. I finally got to sleep around 6am, just in time to call in sick to work for Friday.

I can't blog more about this. It seems talking about things of this nature encourages my body to think it's a good idea to try it. Sickness of this genre is one of my least favorite activities in all the land, and the mere suggestion of it can induce violent illness within me.

I'm also currently afraid of my bathroom. Until Thursday, I had gone 2.5 years without being "exorcist-like" ill in my house. Now, I may have to move. Or at least seal off my bathroom and only use my guest bathroom forevermore. Very, very bad memories of two nights ago.

But I will say that it's nice to be sitting upright after two straight days on my back.

Tomorrow I hope to move past crackers and Powerade.

C.T.

144 Consecutive Hours With People
It was the best ski trip with 8 other people in 2005 ever.
(click on a photo to see the photo in all its glory)



Here are some highlights documented with my new digital camera. Even though what happens in Colorado, stays in Colorado, some stories need to be told.

(note: names have NOT been coded or changed to protect the innocent.)

We started here:



We drove here:



During the drive we discovered that Jen is obsessed with my atlas.



After Luke yelled at the Jeep full of girls for stopping to get gas BEFORE the gas light came on, Luke ran out of gas.





Luke was embarrassed, he apologized for being gasless, and he told us that we were very, very smart to get gas when we did, like he didn't.



Then Carter, Brandon, and Jess arrived with the most expensive gas can ever, to save Luke.



We finally arrived here:



The next morning we woke up to find a lack of snow, but a beautiful cabin in which we would live for the next four days.



We took the town of Creede by storm, doubling the population with our mighty gang of 9 people.





We found wildlife in the town. (look closely)



Then we took a stroll through an enchanted forest.



We found a snow angel.





Then I spotted a Big Horn Sheep using my animal tracking skills (look closely and note the tiny white speck - that's the sheep).



And the last adventure of the day was to stand on a river that was not entirely frozen. That probably wasn't smart.



The next day there was skiing. We started off with the hottest in ski fashion.
Sunglasses - nonbroken (here modeled by Jen)


Ski pants - silver, shiny, and manly (here modeled by Luke)


Sunglasses - broken (here modeled by Christy)


Then we hit the slopes. Jen was a first time skiier.



She fell a bit. But mostly she didn't. She is planning to be in the Olympics in four years.



Christy seemed to end up on the ground a lot. We eventually had to call the Ski Patrol to rescue her.



(NOTE: there are no pictures of The Tyrant skiing or falling. Draw your own conclusions from that.)

The next day everyone except Luke and The Tyrant went skiing again. Luke and The Tyrant took the day off from winter sports. Instead, they stayed in the cabin and watched nine episodes of The West Wing Season Five, and helped the mountain man fix the toilet that was somehow mysteriously clogged after Jen discovered that it was clogged.

(NOTE: there are no photos to document the West Wing viewing or the clogged toilet that Luke had to carry down the stairs)

The last day started with a three hour breakfast. The Tyrant ate three boxes of Rice Krispies, challenged by the rest of the cabin to do so.





She did it and still had room for more. Which was good since Brandon and Jess made bacon and eggs and we all proceeded to eat everything breakfast-related that was left in the house.



Then, we hiked. Jen sported the latest in hiking fashion, which happened to be Carter's canteen.



We drove up the mountain. We hiked. We got tired. We stopped for lunch.



Then we went back to the cabin to get ready for our New Year's Eve Eve party, celebrating a day early due to driving home the next day on New Year's Eve.

We took the party to this local establishment.



The Tyrant may have found some distant relatives who left their mark at the establishment long ago.



There was a live band. We were their biggest and loudest fans.

Fun was had by all.





Brandon demonstrated Le Tigre.



John showed off his Magnum.



And we also found this guy, who we believe to be the love child of Benanti and Mitchell. We call him Erison.



The next day we drove home, leaving Erison behind.



At midnight on New Year's Eve we were at this gas station. We celebrated by leaving after filling up the Jeep with gas.



Other highlights from the trip include:

DVDs consumed -
Legends of the Fall
Waiting for Guffman
A Mighty Wind
Tombstone
Zoolander
Napolean Dynamite
Saved
14 episodes of The West Wing
not quite all of The Cooler

DVDs NOT consumed -
A Walk to Remember
The Notebook

Theme Songs over-sung from DVDs consumed -
STOOLS! from Waiting for Guffman

Christy found a hunk, although it wasn't the manly hunk we hoped for.



We also did a lot of this:



But what we learned most through this adventure is what this matchbook taught us:



I'm convinced that the best lessons learned in life come from matchbooks in Creede.

God bless this road trip and its participants, one and all.

C.T.