Braum's Milk and other Adam tidbits

I bought milk at Brahm's today, just like I do every time I buy milk. However, it might shock you to know that I have not always bought my milk at Braum's. Let me explain . . .

Adam and I had a conversation one day about milk (doesn't everbody?) and he challenged me to try Braum's milk. Adam claimed Braum's milk is cheaper, tastes better, and stays fresh longer than milk from the grocery store. But the idea of changing my grocery store milk routine was difficult for me . . .

But now I only buy my milk from Braum's . . . because he was right.

Every time I stop by the Braum's there on the corner of Nantucket (we shared a mutual Braum's location . . .), I am reminded that Adam introduced me to better milk, and that I've probably saved upwards of $17 in the years since I took him up on his milk wisdom . . .


This is just one of many things that makes me appreciate my friend Adam. He passed away a few days ago after a long and brave battle with Cystic Fibrosis.

I met Adam at work about five years ago and we worked together for almost four years. As I've thought about Adam these past few days, so many things come to mind. One Adam memory leads to another . . .

• I remember not long after the Campisi's opened near the office, he excitedly came to chat with me one day after lunch. He'd eaten a WHOLE small Campisi's pizza, by himself, and he was very excited about this, had to tell me about it. I, too, was excited for him because 1) his illness kept him very thin and not prone to scarf down entire pizzas, and 2) I am well-known for never leaving a scrap of my own Campisi's pizza, quite capable of eating the whole thing in one sitting. Skinny people eating whole pizzas . . . we shared a bond.
  

• Adam was the first to notice that one pair of my pants had random buttons intended for suspenders . . . even though I never wore suspenders.

• The Lokey duo elevated our company softball to a whole new level. Think about frail Adam out there knocking balls OUT OF THE PARK, catching balls in the outfield left and right. And as if that wasn't enough, he brings in his amazing wife Jen who OWNED the mound as our secret weapon pitcher. A one-two Lokey punch on the field. It was greatness.
  

• And that makes me think of our team shirts for the Ad Hawks. Adam sought out my geniusery to collaborate on the shirt design . . . "We bring a fowl game" was all me, folks. Thanks to Adam, that line will go down in history on those shirts. Forever . . .
  

• You never knew what pattern Adam's facial hair would follow from day to day. But, I have to hand it to the man that he was a master at facial hair creativity.
  

Adam always surprised me. More times than I like to remember, we'd get the calls or e-mails at the office that he was back in the hospital. It always scared the bajeezus out of us. But in a couple of weeks, he'd be back at the office, glad to be there and seeming like his old self, like nothing happened. He always had a smile, and he always made the time and the point to catch up with everyone when he got back. The thing about Adam is that HE wanted to know how WE were while he was out. Dude was in a hospital, and he was more interested in how we were.

My grandmother died last year and I remember that was around a time when Adam was in and out of the office. When I made it back in to the office after my grandma's funeral, he came over and sat in the chair by my desk and asked me about it. You never had to wonder if Adam cared about you. He always seemed to keep up with everyone with a geniune sense of compassion.

Not long after that, I left that job. Again, Adam was in and out of the office around that time. But he called to check on me and to encourage me. I'll never forget that.

A few months ago, late at night the phone rang . . . and it was Adam. I hadn't heard from him in awhile. I pick up the phone and I hear a very excited Adam checking up on me, apologizing for the late night call (I'm sorry, but when Lokey calls . . . who cares what time it is?!?! I'll gladly take the call . . .).

THEN he got to the real reason for his call. He had come up with a plan and was so excited about it, he had to call me because Jen wasn't home yet so he could tell her . . . Silly Adam wanted to set me up with a friend of his. He went on and on about it, and had me rolling with laughter . . . but also so touched that even though we hadn't seen each other or talked in awhile, he was thinking of me and his friends and how to make us happy. Apparently by playing matchmaker . . .

Some time went by and he called me again with his plan. It was SUPER late at night and he had the set-up all arranged . . . except I was in NYC for work . . . But it was great to hear his voice and hear him still excited. Truth me told, I would have let him set me up with a stinky, smelly jerk if it gave something Adam to be excited about for awhile . . .

When I think of men of integrity, men that I respect, Adam is most definitely one of those men. I don't know that I told him how much it meant that he thought well enough of me to want to set me up with a friend of his. But, that was cool, Lokey.

Adam was our designated emcee for the company white elephant party each year at Christmas. The year I got to emcee in his place will always stand out for me. Had I been given more than about 30 minutes to understand what I was about to do and what it meant, I might have chickened out. I knew Adam wasn't up to it and I would have to dig deep into my wealth of snark and wit to successfully step up.

But this was "his" thing and it was a little bittersweet for me. Not to mention, NO ONE can compete with Adam and the Elf t-shirt. Big pointy shoes to fill . . . Afterwards, I went back to the office and went straight to Adam and I thanked him for giving me the opportunity and bowed to his emcee geniusery.

One of my favorite things about Adam (other than the hilarity) was how people rallied around him. When we would find out he wasn't doing well, Paula would round up the troops at the office and we would send a care package to Adam of his favorite things. We bought him an ipod one time. Anything we could think of to make his hospital visits more bearable, the office pulled through for him.

One of my favorite Adam moments didn't even really involve him. But the garage sale we held to help offset some of Adam and Jen's medical costs will go down as one of my favorite things ever.

He wasn't there for any of the time I helped at the sale, although he came out the night before for his rockstar appearance. But the spirit of the whole thing made it clear that this was a Lokey event from start to finish. It was great to spend that day with people who love Adam, and it was certainly fantastic to get to spend that time with Jen wheeling and dealing at the sale. She is truly amazing and a blessing to watch with anything regarding Adam.

Knowing we could do something tangible to help him, so many people rallied with tons of stuff for the sale, plenty of help. We raised a good chunk of change, and of course . . . hilarity ensued.

For Adam (of course) I may or may not have donned a wedding dress to help increase our sales.


But, he did it first.

That event is something I'll never forget for a friend I'll never forget.

Adam is at rest now, no more pain. For that, I am thankful. But even more than that, I'm thankful that I had the opportunity to know him, even a just little bit, for awhile.

I'll never understand why amazing people have to die so young. I have to remind myself that they are only too young to us. But to God, they have lived the life they were intended to live and their work here is done. We have to trust Him in that.

Adam touched a lot of lives in his short time here, and I have no doubt the Adam stories will continue for a long, long time. He is missed. But he is home and whole.

Thank you, Adam . . . for everything. Including the milk.

-Teri

Michael Jackson: I'm not convinced that "This Is It"

Yes, I have been caught up in the Michael Jackson whirlwind since he reportedly died last week. I've been shocked and saddened, just like the rest of the world.

I've watched all of the coverage (who knew it was possible to watch so much Michael Jackson programming and still want more?!?!?). I've read all of the online news coverage, as much as my eyeballs could take. Even my Entertainment Weekly arrived yesterday with MJ on the cover, and I'm convinced there is more info in it that I simply must read, lest I miss something important.

However, WHAT IF this is all a hoax? Think about it . . .

I've read and watched SO MUCH about all of this, I'm beginning to see (or perhaps make up in my MJ-overloaded brain) some holes in the story. And I've become suspicious that Michael Jackson's reported death last week could be the greatest piece of showmanship the world has ever seen . . . to set up the greatest comeback the world has ever witnessed.

Think about it . . .

Let's examine the facts, shall we?

• The most obvious clue is that MJ's memorial service is set to take place at the Staples Center . . . where he was rehearsing for his big comeback. And his "death" happened just two weeks before his comeback tour was set to begin. What better way to publicize a comeback than to attract the world's media coverage to the star? The sets are there at the Staples Center. In a sense, the stage is already set. And . . . with the media coverage of his death, the whole world will be watching on Tuesday. What better set-up to live up to the promise he made to the world that this would be the biggest comeback ever?

• And, why would AEG (the concert promotion company) release footage of his last rehearsal . . . if not to tease the world and make his apparent death more dramatic? Making the case that MJ was in good health, well enough to rehearse, so how could he be suddenly dead?
  

• Think about what we have NOT seen. Isn't it somewhat suspicious that we've seen NO rogue cell phone picks from a money-hungry EMT, or from someone at the hospital, or from MJ's staff . . . of Michael's body? Could this mean that . . . there is no body? We've barely seen anything from the scene, and very little details have emerged from his time at the hospital. Then a moving van shows up a day or so later and began removing items from the mansion. To cover up? Think about it . . .
  

• The L.A. Police are under speculation for not following proper procedures. They didn't seal the mansion right away, they didn't get a search warrant right away . . . could this have been because they were in on the hoax? Why rush things or follow protocol details when there's no real crime . . . or death . . .
  

• AEG is offering a full refund for the 50 London concerts. Could this really be because they know Michael only intended to do the ONE comeback show at the Staples Center after his "death?" Most fans are keeping their tickets anyway. AEG probably knew this would happen, so they aren't really losing any money even though they are playing the part of the responsible concert promoters.

• Mis-direction is a must when trying to create the most elaborate and shocking comeback ever. So sure, the media has been mislead with "discoveries" of drugs in his mansion, sketchy doctors to interview, all kinds of crazy "details" and "revelations" about his last days, relationships, what will happen to the kids, etc. plus talks of holding the memorial at Neverland that fell through . . . all the while finalizing the "memorial" at the Staples Center.
  

• Is it beyond MJ's influence and capability to coordinate friends, family, staff, associates, to go along with the story? He has a family of performers. He wanted to be the world's greatest entertainer. Clearly, the most recent spotlight on him (prior to the recent weeks) was less than favorable. And in recent years, did anyone really care about a Michael Jackson comeback tour with 50 dates in London? Since when is his biggest audience the UK? Think about it . . .
  

I could be full of crap. And yes, I'm naturally paranoid and suspicious of just about everything.

BUT, if Tuesday comes and Michael Jackson's "memorial" turns out to be the ultimate, most elaborate hoax and comeback ever?

YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST.

I'm just sayin'.... Don't underestimate the King of Pop.

But if I'm wrong, rest in peace . . . you will always rock my world.

C.T.

Attempting to embrace change

In the past few months, I've done some growing as a human being and I've embraced the possibility of change in my ordered world. The changes didn't actually happen, but the fact that I was open to change is a pretty big deal.

For those of you who don't know me, I don't like change.

One change was the possibility of a roommate. I don't need a roommate, but I was willing to help out a friend for awhile. I've lived alone for pretty much....ever. So, considering having someone else all up in my space was a big moment of growth for me.

She decided to move out of the country instead. And no, it had nothing to do with the idea of living with me....

The second possibility for change happened just in the past few days.... a puppy. A need came up to rescue some puppies from a house that had too many dogs, and I considered that maybe this is the time to get a dog. I have the time, the space. Seriously, a dog living here with me is pretty much the perfect situation for a dog. All of my attention, I'm around plenty. House, yard. My dog would be spoiled and loved, no question.

The particular pups in question are small dogs, something that I could tuck away in a little nook and probably not even notice until I needed to snuggle with a furry creature, at which point I would demand to snuggle. Perfect for me, too.

I considered this thoroughly over the weekend. I decided that yes, if not the roommate then a pup would be the next obvious thing to bring into my world. Today I was able to go see the puppies. If you know me even a little bit, you will know that once I go LOOK at the puppies, I'm pretty much coming home with one. The mistake is in seeing their faces. I've made the mistake before of thinking a puppy was a good idea, seeing the pup and taking it home....then finding out it was NOT a good idea after all. If I had not SEEN the pup, I would have had no problem saying no.

I love dogs, I've just never wanted one that I'm in charge of, all up in my space, dependent on me for every little thing.... But it's a responsibility that I decided I'm finally ready for. And I know now not to SEE the pups unless I am fully prepared to take one home.

Bring on the pup.

So, I arrive at the house that I knew contained a multitude of dogs. As I am getting out of the car, another girl is leaving.... NO, FLEEING the house. Running for her life. I ask her if she was there to look at the pups and she says this: "Yes, and good luck in there..."

Okay....

I should have heeded her warning and made a run for it. But I'd already been spotted by the house/dog people and I had to go in. I realized as I went up to the door that I had not let anyone know I was there or to call 911 and report me as missing if they had not heard from me in a few days.... sinking... feeling....

There were dogs EVERYWHERE. Millions of them. Coming out from every nook and cranny and crack and hole, from under couches, from under OTHER dogs, and I'm pretty sure right out of thin air. Just materializing....as if from nowhere...

Now, before I go any further, I am only reporting on this situation because as a storyteller and an attractor of ridiculous situations, I am required to do so. However, know that these were very nice people with an overabundance of dogs that just needed to go to good homes. I mean them no harm. I write because hilarity ensued (for me) and I found the humor (for me) in what is obviously a stressful situation with too many dogs needing too many homes.... quickly.

That said, I walked into a house with the mixed aroma of cigarette, cigar, incense (burning, I assume, to cover the next smell), and dog. A LOT of dog. All told, I was probably in the house maybe 20 minutes or so, and I came out smelling like the house. I might have to get used to it. I'm not sure it's leaving me any time soon.

Now, I've been to houses where dogs are aplenty, and to houses where folks are in the dog business. Breeding, selling, adopting.... whatever you want to call it. I expect a certain level of unkempt doginess from these situation, so I was not surprised at what I found there.... except for the millions of dogs that just kept coming.

I don't think I ever saw the same dog twice. At one point I could hear more dogs but could not see them. I finally figured out they were pressed against a door that I assume led to the out of doors... but they were trying to get IN. Why? It's just really not clear. "In" would seem much less desirable than "out" in this situation. Fresh air, presumably less dogs.... stay OUT and embrace your freedom.

So, the precious pup I'd had my eye on from the pictures I'd seen beforehand (see? It's the pics that get me every time) had already been adopted. But I was so into this save-the-dogs and embrace-more-change thing that I was willing to check out the other pups to help the situation. However, the dogs were not willing to cooperate with this. They freaked out, nonstop, and would not come near me. Clearly they had run off the poor girl who was fleeing when I arrived and they were attempting to do the same to me.

There was a even whole pack of dogs that were not-for-adoption, but that were apparently trained by the other dogs to create disruption and run people off. And I believe it was one (or more) of this pack of dogs that PEED right on my shoe and my pants as I tried to lure a possible adoptee closer to me for a look-see. Following the pee on me, this conversation took place:

"Oh...now which one did that? Was it Bruce? Nah... it couldn't have been Bruce. That's not like him. Was it Lulu? I bet it was Pookey. Or maybe Blabbity Blah or Schmoopy or well, Hoppity Hop might have done it. But really, that's more like Binky. Where is Binky? I haven't seen her all week.... I am so sorry! They never do that..."

HOW DO I KNOW WHICH ONE DID IT?!?! There are 37 dogs surrounding me, all of them brown. And, might I add, they are all standing in at least two or three puddles of pee.... so are you saying they never pee in here? Or just not on strangers.... And how do you remember all of their names?!?!? Or are you just making up names as you go...

Shortly after I arrived at the house, the woman arrived back home from the vet....because yet another dog had puppies.... this very day. In she came with a purse full of pups and a mama dog who looked like she'd lost the will to live. Seriously, MORE PUPS?!?!? I quickly noticed that a few of the dogs in the pack also looked ready to pop out more puppies at any second.

It was then that I realized that I was in the one place on earth where ALL dogs are born. EVER. All dogs come from here. It must be so.

Finally we were able to get one small potential adoptee to settle down enough for me to attempt to hold her. I had her for almost 22 seconds.... when she decided she'd had enough of being calm and decided to freak out again.... leaving me with another round of pee all over me.

Yep. Peed on TWICE within about 5 minutes. And not just a little bit of pee, mind you. Think waterfalls of dog pee raining down. Who knew such a little dog had so much pee in there?

I had really only stayed past the first 60 seconds to be a good sport, and because these dogs really did need help and this couple did need help finding good homes for the dogs. So I wanted to give them some time to calm down and see if we couldn't pick a winner for me.

But after Pee #2, I finally had to say that this just wasn't going to work out for me and make my escape. I felt bad because I really wanted to help, but I don't think I would be the best help to take a dog that I would not be able to bond with because it would just pee on me and freak out all the time.

So, I apologized that I couldn't help and assured them to have no worries about the pee incidents. They are traumatized dogs and, well, pee happens. No biggie.

Sadly, my attempt to embrace change #2 didn't work out today. But... at least I know I was prepared for a little bundle of furry joy to come co-habitate with me in my ordered world, bringing a little disorder but more furriness. That's a good thing, right?

A dog will come. Preferably one that doesn't burn incense and pee on me so much.

C.T.

P.S. And yes, I immediately showered and burned my shoes and clothes when I got home..... TWICE. One for each pee.

No critters were harmed in the writing of this blog post.

It's been a recurring theme throughout the years while living in my house. Critters in my yard seem to have a death wish.

They get injured, some have died. Frogs, snakes, birds, a squirrel, maybe a bear. But let it be understood: I live here with no intent to harm critters of any kind.

It. Just. Happens.

This week has been a double whammy. Earlier this week, I apparently watered this sad little bird with the yard sprinklers for about 30 minutes before I noticed him.

He was completely water logged. At first I thought he was dead. But then I realized I had knocked him over the head with the water hose while moving the hose, which is when I figured I had probably watered him thoroughly. Unintentionally, of course.

So, not only had he fallen out of a nest that I couldn't find, I probably knocked him unconcious for awhile with the hose.

I proceeded NOT to water anymore until he moved out of the way. But, he didn't move. He just watched me. Was he drowning? I don't know. Are birds immobilized by excessive water? Again.... I don't know.

Then he began to hop. So, I figured this was a good sign. He hopped aimlessly for a few minutes. There really was no purpose or direction to his hop. I didn't know what to do. He hopped without meaning. I didn't understand. I talked to him, encouraged him to hop over to the neighbor's yard, or under the car, out of water's way.

He just hopped. Nowhere in particular.

It was getting dark, but I felt like I needed to stay with him and make sure he lived a long life. Maybe after he dried out for awhile, he'd be able to hop away to his bird family. I decided I needed to make up for all of the other lost critters over the years. I would not let this bird down.

But then I distinctly heard him squeak out a "mama" and he began to hop TOWARD me. So . . . rather than lead him on to a life of disappointment because he was abandoned by TWO mothers (the one who tossed him out of a nest, clearly before he was ready . . . and me - I mean, seriously . . . what would I do with a wild bird?), I bolted before he could get too attached.

I was hungry anyway.

Next morning, I found no sign of him . . . until I looked closer and found what I'm pretty sure was a tiny bird carcass near where I last saw him. Probably the result of a cat. And that would be the SECOND bird I've seen gotten by that cat since I've lived here.

The first one was a massacre . . . bird body parts and feathers everywhere . . .

Anyway, R.I.P. sad, tiny bird.

THEN, today. I finish weed-whacking the yard and I'm heading back to the garage when I notice what looks like a frog hanging out in an odd place in the middle of the grass.

It was, in fact, a frog. I picked it up so that I wouldn't MOW it (see? I mean well . . .), at which time I discovered that I had apparently already WEED-WHACKED it. He looked at me with sadness in his eyes.

The three bloody stumps that used to be his legs are probably why he was sad. And his blood was literally on my hands . . .

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!? What are the odds that in my few years in this house, I would weed-whack not one but TWO frogs while doing routine yard work.

Flashbacks to the first frog a few years ago immediately came to mind. He and I had been friends. He hung out by my water spigot. And then one day . . . he decided to go on vacation near the air conditioner WITHOUT TELLING ME. It was there, by the a/c, that I saw the trail of blood. And my friend, the frog, was one leg short of all the legs he used to know and love.

We never spoke again. He survived. I would see him, dragging himself along with his three good legs . . . anger in his heart . . .

I have never gotten over it.

So . . . back to today's frog. I wasn't going to let this frog go the way of the other frog. And I wasn't going to lose two yard critters in one week.

I gently put him in a safe place where I would not mow him. I watched him. He watched me. My heart broke a little . . . maybe he was the son of my former frog friend? And now the same thing had happened to him.

I swear, I really love frogs. I mean them no harm.

I needed time to think. So, I finished mowing the front yard. I planned out that I would put him in a box or a container, rigged with a water dish that he could hop (or well . . . drag himself) around in. There would be rocks, some vegetation for shade. And I would put him in a place where he could still catch bugs for food. Although in case the bugs did not come to his frog habitat, I made plans to Google "what do frogs eat" later.

I would nurse him back to health and teach him how to live, love, and prosper with only one good leg and three stumps. It would be a beautiful story that I would someday write a book about, then sell the movie rights for a feature film in which Ellen Page would play me as the kindly, yet sarcastic girl who owns the house and tries to keep the yard critters from succeeding with their death wishes, then forms a special bond with a special frog and they grow old together, dying of old age . . . on the very same day so that neither one has to live a day without the other one.

I know, right? It's good.

All of this planning took 10 minutes (including the yard mowing). And after 10 minutes, I returned to where I had safely left the poor legless frog . . . AND HE WAS GONE.

I have to believe he is a survivor. That he was able to drag himself away, being brave, and protecting me from seeing him suffer anymore. He will nurse himself back to health and learn how to cope with three less legs than he had this morning.

One day he will come back to me, tell me that all is forgiven. That his life is richer because of overcoming this struggle and that he owes it all to my unfortunate tendency to weed-whack frogs.

Unintentionally, of course.

He will thank me, and then I will write the book . . . NO. WE will write the book, then sell the movie rights. Ellen Page will turn down another role to play me. And no less than 108 frogs will be used to play my very special frog, all of which will be rescued from unfortunate frog accidents that leave them but with one leg and three stumps, to be given a new life in the movie/stunt frog business.

It will be called Froggy and Me.

Oh yeah. I have a VERY vivid imagination.

Unintentionally, of course.

C.T.

It's okay.....

I keep my bedroom behind a massive steel door secured by an elaborate lock with a narrow connecting hallway lined with shelves filled with communications equipment, too.


It's not a bunker. It's just a precaution . . .

C.T.

My new Arch-Nemesis: City Code Enforcer Inspector

Some of you may know of my latest rivalry with the City Code Enforcer Inspector. He is my new Arch-Nemesis . . . except that I'm convinced he thinks I'm hot and he's using his authority to woo me.

I've lived in my house for almost six years. The one issue I have with the city involves the weeds and grass behind my fence in the alley. Technically, my property line ends at the fence. Yet, when the weeds behind the fence get too tall, residents get a letter from the city because we are supposed to keep the weeds and grass under control behind the fence.

So . . . in protest, I prefer to wait until I get a letter before I do anything about the weeds back there. I say that if I'm supposed to keep up with that, let me build my fence to the alley concrete so I can make it part of my yard. Otherwise, I don't think it should be my problem.

I got my first letter this year, a few months ago, and I promptly took care of the weeds like I always do. It's always funny to me because a few tall weeds behind my nice wooden fence are by far not the worst atrocity back there compared to some of my neighbors. But, I will cooperate and de-weed.

Then, it rained for a million days and I got busy. I neglected the weeds. And I got another letter a month or so later. So, I promptly took care of the weeds. Again.

A week later I get a note on my door that I have a certified letter waiting for me at the Post Office. I assume it's something important, so I spend a lunch hour one day getting the letter.

IT'S THE SAME LETTER I RECEIVED THE WEEK BEFORE . . . only now in certified form. Now, I've already fixed the problem. And I just wasted my lunch hour waiting in line at the Post Office to receive the same exact letter.

I was ticked. Fortunately, Mr. Code Inspector's e-mail address is on the letter. And oh yes, he was going to get an e-mail about this matter.

I e-mailed him that day. A very nice e-mail, I might add. I explained my frustration over receiving a duplicate letter that wasted my time.

I take pride and great care in keeping my house nice and well-kept, inside and out. These types of letters frustrate me because they are nit-picking over tiny things . . . when all up and down my street there are much bigger issues than whether or not my weeds in the alley are too tall.

He promptly e-mailed me back, very nicely, I might add. In fact, we had an e-mail conversation back and forth for the rest of the day. He explained that when someone earns two letters in six months, they automatically get the certified mail letters in addition to the other letter. Ok, that makes sense. But I didn't like that I was now in this "certified letter" category.

I'M A GOOD NEIGHBOR.

Then, I decided I would ask him the burning question I have about the issue with the fence line. I asked him why, if my property ends at the fence, do I have to monitor the weeds behind the fence?

And he says this: "I don't have a good answer for that except that residents are just supposed to do it."

Shouldn't a City Inspector know why he's enforcing the codes he is enforcing? Why is this even a code if they don't know why? If you ask me, the City just doesn't want to pay to keep up the alleys even though it's technically city property.

So then, I TOTALLY blew his mind. I THANKED HIM for the good work he does and the rest of the inspectors do, keeping the city nice and safe. In all honesty, I do appreciate the City's efforts to keep neighborhoods nice and encourage residents to take care of their properties.

Also, at this point I had looked him up on the City web site . . . and he's kind of a hottie.

He said that no one ever thanks them, and usually he just gets yelled at a lot. So he really appreciated that.

It's amazing what a simple thank-you can do, y'all.

HOWEVER, yesterday I got another letter. No, not about weeds. I'm keeping up with that because I've made a new friend . . . even though he doesn't know it. I will make his job easier, at least in regards to my house

No, this letter from yesterday called me out for a shingle that is missing . . . from the SHED in my BACKYARD . . . on the side that FACES THE ALLEY.

This shingle in question fell off of the shed probably two or three years ago after a big rainstorm. I kept it. It's in the shed, I just haven't done anything about it because, well, I don't care. The shed is a very nice shed and looks great. There's just one shingle missing on the back side.

WHAT?!?!? Now it's suddenly a code violation?!?!?! After all this time?!?!?!

Ok, I'm on to you City Inspector Hottie . . . you are trying to ask me out . . . If you ask me, he spends way too much time checking out my house. And the only logical thing I can think of is . . . that he's in love with me.

I'll fix the shingle. If I can figure out how to get a ladder back there in between the fence and the shed . . . then we'll see what else you come up with to attempt to woo me . . .

Game ON.

C.T.

Emergency post from un-intended blogging retirement....

It is necessary for me to write, immediately, RIGHT NOW..... and ask Paula Abdul never to attempt to perform/non-sing/sort-of-dance again.

On any stage.

Ever.

Please.

I beg of you.

No.

C.T.

P.S. I'm serious. Don't.

Staring my youth in the face....

I was on a plane earlier this week. Joining me on the plane was a high school marching band. If you don't know by now, yes, I was in the marching band in high school. And in college, as a matter of fact.

So, here I am on a plane surrounded by lots and lots of young, wide-eyed band nerds. Watching them, I was immediately taken back to my high school band nerd days.

My first high school mascot was the Cougars, colors were red and white. These kids on the plane were also the Cougars, colors were red and white. Purely coincidence, as these kids were from a different high school. But, seeing all the band jackets with the red and white and the cougar . . . made it almost a surreal experience.

It was an unexpected trip down memory lane, watching these kids. I saw the "cool" band nerds keeping their distance from some of the other "less cool" band nerds. The flutes huddled together. Drummers were in the back of the plane, air-drumming to their ipods. I even saw the couple of kids who clearly didn't fit in anywhere, even among fellow band nerds.

I was on this plane, dressed in a suit, traveling to NYC for a business meeting with a client. I make this trip often. These kids were dressed in the skinny jean weirdness of your typical teens these days, excited for a big trip to NYC, maybe their first time to the Big Apple.

But, unbeknown to them, we were one and the same in my head on this plane.

I was once one of them . . . but, would any of them be me one day? In a suit, 15 years removed from a band trip with all your friends (and enemies - oh, high school drama . . .)? Headed to the same place (NYC) but in two entirely different places.

When I was that high school band nerd, I don't think I ever would have guessed I'd one day be all suited up, as a grown-up, doing grown-up things . . . business meetings, business travel, responsibilities . . . I do these things now, but I don't feel like a grown-up.

Sometimes I still feel like a kid just playing grown-up because that's what I'm supposed to do now. With years comes responsibility, even if my heart and soul haven't quite caught up to my years. I feel out of place in my suits, leading client meetings, creating reports (while sitting on a plane, no less), having conversations that don't include words like "rad," "totally," or "dude."

Ok, I still say "dude" as much as possible. Just not to clients.

It was weird to see myself 15 years ago through the eyes of my grown-up self right now. Am I where I'm supposed to be? Am I who I thought I'd be back when I had the whole world ahead of me? No harm, no fouls . . . yet. Choices toward a future still to be made. Grown-up decisions a distant thought. Fun of the moment and teenage drama still at hand.

I don't know. What? Yeah. I don't know if I had an idea of what I wanted to be when I grew up, and now that I'm more grown-up than not grown-up, I don't know if this is what I had in mind back in the day.

Weirder than that, it's weird to think that I'm ok wherever this is that I am, for the most part, for now. For not having much of an idea of where I wanted to be or what I wanted to make of myself, and for having an interesting road on the way to getting here, I'm blessed to have ended up someplace that's working out okay for me . . . for now.

I thought about all that's happened since high school, since the so-called innocence of my youth. Things that have led me to where I am today, to my seat on that plane earlier this week. Life for me has taken some crazy, unexpected turns. It's hard not to think "what if," had forks in the road along the way had forked the other way.

Yeah, a lot of thinking for an early morning plane ride . . .

I'm glad I'm not still in those high school band nerd days. It was great at the time (don't judge), but I'm glad it's in the past and part of who I am today, rather than where I still am today.

Plus, I'm not done yet. So, there's that.

C.T.

Random Thankful Reflections

I'm thankful for some random things these days.

Right now, in a moment of reflection, I'm thankful for my house, this fantastic weather we've been having, my patio, and a nice, event-free, relaxing Friday evening that I can sit out here on my patio and listen to my sprinklers . . . alone . . . in the calm and beauty of my grody Texas yard.

I'm just really blessed, y'all.

Lately I've also been thankful for some of the experiences I've been through. Not because I am glad those things happened or that I'm thankful to have gone through them. No question, given the option of changing some things in my lifetime, I'd pick what's behind door #2. Door # 1 kinda sucked.

But, on the other side of Door #1 (or at least on a side of it with better perspective - I can't say I'm truly on the other side or that I ever will be), I can appreciate what I've learned and the person I am today . . . in part due to the things that have happened in my world as a grown-up.

That's a big deal for me, y'all. I don't come by peace in my world very easily.

Sometimes I feel like I had to grow up really fast, really suddenly. And not in a way that I would have preferred.

But, the way I'm thankful for my life's less-than-pleasant experiences thus far is that I can talk. And I can be there. And I can understand what others may be going through, in a way that I would not be able to had I not experienced some downs in my lifetime thus far.

That may be cheesy, but I don't care right now. I am so thankful to be in a place where my world isn't falling a part, right now, at this time. I can be strong when I'm needed. That feels really good.

It's not that I never thought I'd get to this place. And you know, I won't always be in this place. One thing I've certainly learned is that good days come and go, with bad days mixed in there from time to time. All part of it . . . life, growing, learning . . . healing.

But, I've grown to appreciate the significance of the good days and what they mean having been through a world that fell apart, for a long time.

And I can talk. And share. And be there. And listen. And maybe, if there can ever be a reason for things to happen that rock your world in bad ways, my being able to talk, and share, and be there, and love, and support, and listen, and be strong . . . for others . . . is part of why I grew up quickly, suddenly . . . permanently.

It's so hard to see the bigger picture sometimes. To see beyond what is broken and hurting and what doesn't make sense. Getting to a place where I can start to piece together somewhat of a bigger picture, well, it's good.

I don't know. Just some random thoughts on a perfect evening, in the calm and refuge of my homestead . . . sound of the sprinklers soothing me . . . peaceful moments.

I'll take them when I can get them, and I'll savor them for as long as I can.

God is good, y'all. I promise.

C.T.

I didn't get a bonus this year.

Nope, no bonuses at my company this year.

I did, however, pay my taxes. Which I guess means that today I apparently helped pay some million-dollar bonuses for some millionaires.

As did you, and you, and you and you and you . . .

Since my company just switched our dental insurance to AIG, I think maybe this is the year I need to get a LOT of dental work done . . . maybe several million dollars worth . . .

Diamond-studded grill? A few gold teeth? Extra super-duper teeth whitening? A few rounds of x-rays?

YES. Done and done.

C.T.

I am stimulated.

My paycheck this week reflected the first installment of the new-fangled, save-the-economy tax cut thingy recently enacted by our government.

For me, it amounts to an extra $20 per paycheck.

Wow. It's a veritable windfall of funds, if you will.

We'll be back on our feet in no time.

Thanks, Obama!

C.T.

Why Blockbuster is helping Netflix

I have Netflix, and have had it for quite some time now. I love it, and I'm also IN love with it. Netflix can pretty much do no wrong, as far as I'm concerned.

Even if I HATED Netflix (which I don't), here is why Netflix. What follows is an event at Blockbuster this evening with a friend who does not have Netflix:

Us: I just turned in "insert sappy tearjerker movie here."
Blockbuster Drone: Yeah. The fee on that is $157.42.
Us: Ok, sure it was a couple of weeks late. But I thought Blockbuster had no late fees.
BD: Uh, yeah. We reinstated late fees a month or so ago.
Us: Ok, but I had no idea. And I just turned it in. So, do I really have to pay $157.42? I just want to rent these two movies now. And I just turned the other one in.
BD: Uh... yeah. It's late, so you owe $157.42.
Us: Ok, but I didn't know.
BD: Ok, but this is the late fee.
Us: So, if we pay $157.42 do we now OWN the movie? If so, go get it out of that bin WHERE WE JUST TURNED IT IN.
BD: Let me get a manager.
Us: ..................
BD Manager: Ok, we can take off that fee and add a warning to your record because now you know about the late fees.
Us: Awesome.
BD: Ok, it's $3.25 for those two movies. How many days do you want to keep them?
Us: What?
BD: How long do you want to keep the movies?
Us: Three days.
BD: Ok, you can choose one day, or five days.
Us: Ok, well then... one day.
BD: Great. Ok, if you don't return these tomorrow then there is a $450.94739 late fee per day that the movies are not returned.
Us: Fantastic.

Blockbuster.... making it DIFFICULT to rent movies by reinstating late fees at exorbitant prices starting less days than you request because they can't let you have the movie for as long as you want.

Netflix.... no late fees. Ever. Keep the movies as long as you want.

R.I.P. Blockbuster.

C.T.

A Better Stimulus Plan: The Tyrant Plan

I'm just gonna say it. I'm not real excited about this "stimulus" plan.

I mean, it just all seems thrown together, half-assed and ill-thought-out, with a bunch of stuff in it that has nothing to do with stimulating the economy or helping the millions of people who have lost practical jobs.

I'm sure spending billions of dollars on Global Warming will provide new jobs for some scientists or something. But for the people I know who have lost jobs and who need jobs, Global Warming ain't gonna help them now or any time soon.

Now, those senators and the President and whatnot did not ask for my help. But, I've put some thought into it. I believe I've come up with a better (and FAR less ridiculous) plan. It's actually really simple.

(I think maybe all the senators and congressmen didn't read that whole stimulus bill before voting because it was just really, really, really ridiculously too long and confusing.)

1. Deport all the illegal immigrants.
Just the illegal ones. This will free up, like, a BILLION jobs by next week, or maybe the week after.

2. Make gas free for all travel within the U.S.
Seriously, this is genius. The gas company executives made enough money in 2008 to live for like, 37 years. So they'll be okay if gas is free for a year or so. Airfare will go down and people will fly to places and spend money. People will drive places and spend money. People will be able to afford gas to get to work and earn money (at the new jobs freed up by getting rid of the immigrants). There is no flaw with this plan.

3. Stop giving money to banks and car companies and other irresponsible companies.
I mean, seriously. New banks pop up on every corner every five minutes like 7-elevens or something, except you can't even get a Slurpee at any of these superfluous banks. Stop giving banks more money unless they will give away free Slurpees every time they DON'T do something stupid with our money.

And the car companies? I mean, if they were serious about selling cars and not flying around in private jets right now, all cars should be at least half-off as a show of good faith. I don't want to buy a Hummer and get a Ford Focus thrown in for free. I want to buy two cars that I WANT for the price of ONE car. And then I will drive them around the country using free gas (see #3).

Other greedy companies? Same rules apply.

4. Give tax credits, refunds, whatever to ME.
You want people to start spending money again? The people who need the "stimulating" are people like ME. We make enough money at our regular jobs to be comfortable and are not in debt (unlike our governmental role models), yet we don't qualify for many (if any) of the rebates, refunds, or tax cuts in your new-fangled "stimulus" plan.

PLUS, we are scared out of our minds about what you people are doing with my hard-earned taxes these days that we'd rather hole up, watch our Netflix, and not spend any of our money out there where the country needs it. Who knows, we could be next to fall victim to governmental input on "fixing" the economy. You want this large chunk of America to start spending money again? Give us a reason to part with our pennies.

These are four simple things that I think can be MUCH more effective, and again, LESS ridiculous than the current plan.

But . . . no one wanted my help. So, I'll just sit here at home, watching my Netflix, holding on to my pennies for the next rainy day . . . in case this whole stimulus thingy doesn't work out so well.

C.T.

It was pretty much awesome.

C.T

Tyrant, you've just (a week ago) watched the Super Bowl.

What are you going to do now???

I'M GOING TO DISNEY WORLD!!!

Seriously. I am.

Is it legal to be cynical in the Happiest Place On Earth? We're going to find out, y'all.

C.T.

Watch out, y'all

C.T.

Ice Storm '09, y'all

I'm enjoying a leisurely Wednesday morning at home, still in my pjs, snuggled under my blankets, with my coffee, watching . . . ICE STORM '09 on T.V.

Work is delayed til noon. And I am snuggly.

For the past 30 minutes, ICE STORM '09 has consisted of the local news team pointing a camera at one particular ramp that is loaded with cars that are stuck and/or slipping and sliding into each other or into rails . . . and making comments about the whole mess.

I don't know how that is really helping get us through ICE STORM '09, and yet . . . I can't stop watching.

Glad I'm not out there.

C.T.

We have a new President. Now we need a new word.

Today was a big day for our country, no matter where you fall on the political spectrum. The inauguration of a new President is a big deal.

The inauguration of any President is a big deal. The inauguration of any President brings change. It's an exciting time.

All of the hub-bub of the day is certainly exciting. But mostly, the hub-bub got me thinking today. And here are my thoughts....

One thing I hope for the people of this country is that we are keeping our perspective on this change that has begun. We've used and heard the word "change" so much over the past few months of campaigns, election, and now on this day as our 44th President takes office, the word itself has almost taken on a life of its own. Or perhaps it's lost its real meaning.

Personally, I'm sick of hearing it. Not because I don't believe in it. Not because I am bitter towards the situation. I'm just concerned that the expectation and the excitement has ruined the word forever. And I'm concerned that "change" may translate into "undo" for those who are championing the word as though "change" is the answer to a world full of problems. It feels like the hope I'm hearing about today is synonamous with "change." And that's a little scary.

As a wise man once said, "I do not think that word means what you think it means." (Name the movie....)

Here's the thing, for me. Today, President Obama pledged to restore hope to this country. But, I had hope for this country before today, before Obama, during the last eight years of Bush, and I'll continue to have hope long after the Obama hype and the man himself has moved on. There are millions of Americans who have never stopped having hope for this country.

There's never been a reason to lose hope in this country. And if your hope started today, there's a bigger problem in this country than the problems that just left Office. Having hope is not a change.

I've been proud to be an American for 33 years. Well, at least for as long as I can remember. Today is not the day that makes me proud to be an American again. If you haven't been proud to be an American during the last eight years, that's a bigger problem that has nothing to do with the people who will come and go as our Commander in Chief.

Being proud of this country is not a change, and should not be a change that begins today.

President Obama also pledged to restore prosperity to our country. I don't know if you've looked around the world lately, but by any standard just about anywhere, the United States is an extremely prosperous country. I don't think this country's success in the area of prosperity is the issue, or even a concern. Prosperity is not what needs to be restored.

Yes, we are in an economic struggle. And we do have a lot of work to do to recover to a place of stability. But again, I ask that we keep things in perspective. This is not the poorest we've been or the worst situation we've been in. Prosperity (aka "greed") is actually the root of the problem that we have right now.

We certainly have challenges ahead. But, hear this: Obama cannot make the difference by himself. He may represent a new face on things. But by himself, he can't get a whole lot done.

I found this blog today and appreciated the message it gives and the perspective it brings, even though it's a little snarky even for my tastes. The hype of today, of Obama, is dangerous, and we need to chill. The worst thing we can do right now is set the man of the hour up for failure by placing all of our hopes in one basket, one man, one word . . . "change."

The party ends tonight, ladies and gentlemen. The 108 inaugural balls will end, the clock will strike midnight, the glass slipper gets left behind and our new President turns back into a working pumpkin tomorrow.

Because tomorrow, the world's eyes are on him. But not because he "is the change," or because he's popular among celebrities, or because he's hot, or because he's our first African-American President. None of that matters for the next four years. The celebrity "bubble" that's been the part-ay atmosphere since November is over. He will not be judged by his celebrity, by his abs, by how his wife dresses, or by the new Presidential puppy.

He will be judged by his successes, and his failures, as all other Presidents who have gone before him. And no matter how much hope you found today, there will be failures, my friends.

Tomorrow, the work begins. Tomorrow we begin to see what he's really made of, and what "change" really means.

Tomorrow he starts the massive task of proving himself, filling the shoes of Presidents before him, and leading this country into unity and to the next stage in our future. President Obama will not be compared only to now-former President George W. Bush. He'll be put up against all Presidents who have gone before him. And "change" should not be compared only to the past eight years.

This isn't a fad. This isn't Hollywood. This isn't a hip slogan about "change." This is the real deal now, folks. Let's get this thing into perspective.

I hope to be impressed by whatever change comes about, and I hope it takes the right amount of time to come into play so that it is effective, positive, and the best change it can be. No more, no less. I hope to be impressed by this man, our 44th President. I hope we celebrate him as much on his last day in office as we did today, on his first day. I don't see any reason why that can't happen.

But mostly, I hope we find a new word to use to shape and ultimately to remember this Presidency. This cannot be the Change Administration. No self-respecting leader wants to be known only for change. And I guarantee this: if change is the expectation, we will not be disappointed . . . except where the changes might not be in our best interest as a country, or the changes don't come soon enough for many of our expectations . . . or the changes don't mean what we thought they meant.

So, I encourage us to let that word go. I don't want to hear anymore about change, unless you are loaning me some change so I can get a Coke out of the machine.

But if we can't let it go, if we must keep that word as our mantra to get through the next four years, let's consider substituting another word. Like "pizza," or "bear hugs." Something that doesn't make me cringe or think of menopause (going through "the change") every time I hear it.

I appreciated much of Obama's speech today, particularly his reminder that the truths we desire and the truths we must adhere to today are the same truths that this country was founded upon. That never changes, no matter the person in place as our President.

That's a good reminder to us all, that maybe we aren't really in search of change in the way we have abused the word. But rather, maybe we just need a shift in focus to reposition our functionality back to our values that have always been there, from the beginning.

Bear hugs, y'all. Bear hugs.

C.T.

Farewell, Old Matresses

Tonight will be my last night of sleep on the mattresses I have had since . . . well, at least junior high. Maybe earlier than that.

I will not get into all of the details of what all these mattresses have been through. But the more I think about them, the more I am pretty sure they are biohazard status and should probably be disposed of through incineration. Or weighed down with rocks and sunk to the bottom of the deepest part of the ocean.

They've been good mattresses. At one time, they were really good, nice, firm mattresses that served me well.

But one day, you wake up and you realize that every morning starts with aches and pains and cricks because your tossed and turned all night and never got out of that one sunken spot in the middle of the bed where you were curled into an uncomfortable ball all night.

It hurts.

No more, my friends. No more.

For . . . tomorrow morning, bright and early, shiny brand new mattresses will arrive at my house. And the old ones will be carted away.

And then, I may never get out of bed again. The fantastic new mattresses that are on their way will be so amazing, so comfy, so sleep-worthy that I might just live there forever.

I am, however, a little frightened by what may or may not be living under my bed. It's been in that one spot for a little over five years now. I never look under there. It could be bad.

But, one last time, to honor the mattresses that have gotten me through many, many nights of sleep, and that have always been a safe sanctuary for me to crawl in and hunker down when the world is cruel, or (as was the case when I used to be afraid of those dang flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz) a place of safety . . . a haiku. For you.

Old Mattresses, go
To mattress heaven, be gone
Good night sleep is here

Farewell, old friends . . . and hello new friends!

C.T.

Snark it as I see it: The Golden Globes

Back in the day, I used to provide my valuable insights here for many an awards show. The beauty of this now is that I have the wireless and the laptop and can literally blog live.

I'm going to attempt to publish as I go . . . more bullet points will pop up at the bottom as the night wears on . . . this could be awesome, or totally lame, and it's entirely possible I'll give up halfway through.

Otherwise, enjoy!

• The red carpet was so-so. I do, however, want to punch Miley in the face for complaining on national television that she only got her mom's hand-me-down Porche for her 16th birthday. I'm sorry, but in what actual reality is a hand-me-down Porche something to complain about?

• Drew Barrymore's hair reminds me of Tippi Hedren in The Birds after she gets swarmed and attacked by thousands of birds a few times.

• They say the Globes are the "fun" awards show, but so far that seems to mean "wheels off." I just saw someone carrying a chair across the room. JLo was screaming at people to shut up so she could present an award. The screen just went black. This is fun!
  

• No more awards for Kate Winslet. I like her and I like that she won, but I can't handle anymore of her thank-you speeches. I think she thanked me.

• It appears that if you are a woman and you win an award, the rule is that every man within arm's reach gets to kiss you on your way up to the stage. Depending on who you are sitting near, this could be bad . . .

• It's so nice that they pulled in a drunk, homeless man off the street to tell everyone (and Steven) to have a good time.

• Did Hayden just steal Zac Efron's line because she thought he wasn't paying attention? Rude.
  

• Last time I checked, Anna Paquin was 11 years old. What?

• I love how the stars just wander around willy nilly, and Ricky Gervais wanders on stage with a drink in hand. I'm not entirely sure why he was there, but he should do that a few more times tonight.

• Why must the Jonas Brothers show up and ruin EVERYTHING!!?!?!? Is there no sacred place left on earth where we aren't forced to Jo Bro???? That's it. One day when I am requested to attend an awards show, my one stipulation is that the Jonas Brothers are not anywhere within a 100 miles of the show.

• Why have I never heard of Happy Go Lucky until right now? I mean, seriously. No more awards to people who are from fake, made-up movies or who have to thank everyone in the world and who are in love with Emma Thompson.
  

• Correction: Johnny Depp should come on stage and look adorably uncomfortable a few more times during the show. Loverly. I would watch that all night.
  

• Seriously, the next award that someone sets on the stage? It's MINE. If you can't hold it for a minute and talk at the same time, I will hold it for you . . . forever.

• Drew Barrymore and Jessica Lange apparently have an inside joke on stage, y'all. Oh wait, no it's just that P-Diddy is a really bad actor . . . in the sun.

• I will always love Tom Hanks. He can do no wrong. Even though I have no idea what he just won.
  

• They got this one right. No snark here.

• Colin Farrell just snotted on the microphone and made an inappropriate joke. These awards are nothing, if not classy.

• Maggie Gyllenhal's dress, is, um, uh . . . not good. I think I also saw Glenn Close wearing her curtains, or perhaps a table cloth of some sort. You would think it wouldn't be so hard for famous people to not look stupid.

• Seriously? In Bruges is nominated as a Best Picture? What? It's cuz of that dwarf.
  

• Those Slumdog Millionare people are super cute. Good for them!

• Anyone who watched the new Scrubs last week and saw the very end will appreciate with me that Tony Shaloub did NOT win this year. Win one for Zach Braff, y'all.
  

• By my calculations, Rumer Willis wants to crawl under a table and do some cocaine with Mickey Rourke right about now, between the mommy "don't slouch" comment from Demi and the juice box thing from Alec Baldwin.
  

• I'm wearing Old Nay sweatpants and a Coke Is It t-shirt from a thrift store, by the way. I've accessorized with a bag full of Jelly Belly's. Not red carpet attire, but I'm totally comfy.
  

• I'm sorry, I was wrong. Renee Zellweger's hair reminds me of Tippi Hedrin from The Birds . . . and her dress just makes me sad. It's like butterfly netting attached to a cape, but not in a good way.
  

• Yes. Glenn Close is, in fact, wearing what I think was originally on her table when she first came in for the evening of awards festivities. And strangely, it kinda works for her in a room-decor-as-clothes sort of way.

• I don't think Tracy Morgan ever really knows where he is. He probably gave the same thank-you speech to himself this morning while he talked into a shampoo bottle in the shower.
  

• I've said it before, and I'll say it again. James Bond should never, EVER sing. That means you, Pierce.

• I'm a little surprised that Beyonce wasn't nominated for the Best Soundtrack to every viral video spoof in 2008. She totally would have won.
  

• Um, that guy just thanked the billion people of India. GENIUS.

• David Duchovny so far wins the Most Awkward Jokes About My Family To Cover Up That We Are Not So Happy Award.

• Tina Fey should always win things. Sorry, Mom. I find her to be hilarious with my kind of fantastic, sharp, sarcastic wit, and she's almost as good-looking as I am. Hollywood Foreign Press Action Figures . . . PURE GENIUS!!! I mean, Tina and I are the same kind of funny and I . . . . I'm sorry, I just got distracted again by Drew Barrymore's tumbleweedish hair . . . no idea where I was going with this . . .
  

• Cecile B. Demille Award = bathroom break and popcorn fetching
  

• Steven Spielberg's hair looks fine. And he apparently invented movies or something. And he just put his award down on the podium, which makes it MINE. I'm not kidding about that rule, y'all.
  

• I love Emma Thompson. She never seems to quite know what's going on. And I love when Dustin Hoffman is Rainman during awards shows. He's so silly! But is he, like, 3 feet tall? He could give that In Bruges dwarf a run for his money.

• Oh . . . it's really bad when you are introduced as the star of the "upcoming Lifetime movie . . . " Sigourney Weaver . . . where is the glory of Alien and Gorillas in the Mist when you need it?!?!?

• I'm still not understanding why In Bruges is winning awards, or nominated, for that matter. Even Colin Farrell doesn't understand why he's up there getting an award. But he does wear two earrings, so he's got that going for him. Really, if anyone should win from this movie, it should be the dwarf. He wore a funny hat!

• Sacha Baron Cohen . . . not so much funny tonight. Where's Borat?

• Now, is Vicky Cristina Barcelona a Comedy? Or a musical. I'm confused. Mostly at why Comedy or Musical is all one category. What if it's a sad musical? Or a comedy with a tragic ending?

• I just saw Tom Cruise trying to recruit Kate Winslet to Scientology. And now I'm watching a commercial for Quiznos "chefs." As if Scientology or Quiznos chefs are both things that exist as things that are real . . .
  

• Oh, Slumdog Millionare guy with the bedazzled necktie tucked into your shirt? Um, no. I'm happy for you and your movie. But I'm not happy for that tie.
  

• Cameron Diaz seems to be literally wrapped up in an Ace bandage as her dress. Genius, and affordable. And if she falls because it's wrapped too, tight, no worries. She's set and wrapped already for a full body sprain.
  

• Angelina might murder someone if she doesn't win that Lead Actress award eventually. Shot down at the Critic's Choice, and now that girl from Titanic takes the Globe from her . . . and then forgets Angelina was even one of the nominees in her speech . . . . The good thing is that the Academy will not want to sit through Kate Winslet's speeches again. So, what's-her-name could get her shot at the Oscars.
  

• Wheels off, Rainn and Blake.

• I have no idea what the Mad Men guy is rambling on about. Bring back Kate Winslet's speech, please.

• Mickey Rourke should have washed his hair to get an award tonight. I think he tripped up the stairs from all the hair grease. But, congrats anyway! Wait, did he just thank his dog? Nevermind. Please take his award back, pronto.
  

• I don't think middle fingers are allowed on primetime T.V., and that means you, director of The Wrestler.
  

• I wish Tom Cruise was wearing the eye patch to present the last award. I really do.
  

• Accepting the award for Slumdog Millionare are the one billion people of India. This could take awhile . . . everyone please keep your seats.

Well, that's it from The Tyrant's Couch Blogging of the 66th Annual Golden Globe Awards, and first ever live blogging event. There were some odd wins, and some even odder outfits. Thankfully, this makes my snarky blogging job easy.

Thank you, and good night. And don't vote for Kate Winslet for any Oscars until she learns how to ramble less.

Oh, I almost forgot . . . The Birds.


C.T.

The price of fame...

Since my awesome music video has hit the interweb, my level of famousness has increased several-fold.

Paparazzi around every corner and hiding in every bush. At least, I don't THINK I'm imagining that.

Interviews, special appearances . . . you know, it just never stops.

I will write again.

C.T.

This article is wrong.

Because I'd say TWO women rule YouTube . . .

Beyonce & ME.

FOXNews.com - One Woman Rules Youtube

Move over, Beyonce.

C.T.