If I only I did more drugs...
So, I finally watched Walk the Line this afternoon. It was one of the few Oscar movies I hadn't seen, yet. Agreed, Reese Witherspoon was fabulous and definitely deserved the Oscar.

But, my reaction to the movie as a whole is this:

Drugs + Alcohol + sleeping around + accidentally discovering you can sing = fame and fortune as a rockstar

We saw it last year in Ray. We saw it before that in Great Balls of Fire. We saw it in the made-for-tv version of Elvis.

Really? Is this how rockstars happen? Are these the people we hero-ise, we worship, we want to be like? Is this the lifestyle we idolize and dream about? Dude, Johnny Cash was sober for MAYBE 15 minutes of the movie. The rest of the time he was drunk, high, and throwing stuff at people. In between some of that, he sang a bit. Otherwise, he was hurting everyone around him and making people clean up after him.

This is good?

It's not that I don't have an appreciation for the genius of the music, although I admittedly don't listen to a lot of Johnny Cash. Or Jerry Lee Lewis, for that matter. Great Balls of Fire? Not really my anthem.

But if I am to learn anything from these movies, it is that since I can already kinda sing some, I may already have the potential to be a rockstar. Like, I can carry a tune and whatnot. But what is missing from my fame and fortune is that I am responsible enough to get through my life sober.

If only I did more drugs and had more dramatic freakouts, I'd have been a rockstar a long time ago. Really, I'd be due by now for my crash and burn phase, shortly followed by rehab in about a year. I am, after all, 30 years old now. WAY overdue for getting started on my rockstar career and a lifetime of being addicted to strange black pills.

So, my question is, why are all of these American Idols working so hard? They like, take singing lessons and rehearse and have to endure week after week of scrutiny and criticism for their craft. We make them audition, and audition more, and even then, most of them will never make it as true rockstars. We even kick people off of the show who have been arrested.

Shouldn't we be keeping the ones with criminal records? All the best rockstars do hard time!

The Idols already have the exposure. We see them every week on TV. But clearly they are not watching these great movies, or paying any attention to our current rockstars. They will never make it in this world if they don't get drunk, take some pills, sleep with each other, then break everything on stage for next week's competition.

Take it from Johnny. And Ray. And Jerry Lee. They have shown us the way.

C.T.

PS: I totally ended this blog by throwing my computer out the window, then slamming three Colt 45s and a bag of heroine. I'm a blogstar!

Bracket, Schmracket
Up until 10:15 this morning, I hadn't given the NCAA Basketball Tournament a second thought.

Then I helped a young non-sports-minded coworker of mine fill out her bracket to enter a tournament (she had it ALL wrong), and now I may be slightly obsessed.

I've never filled out a bracket before. The team I picked to win the whole thing nearly lost in the first round (it would have been an upset AND very upsetting to me).

The tournament we are in is only for bragging rights (no money involved), but unfortunately I hate to lose. And even thought I didn't care up until midmorning, NOW I really want to win.

I should have stayed out of it.

I picked Syracuse tonight, but they are losing. I want to go to bed, but the game isn't over...

Curse you, March Madness.

C.T.

Art that I get
It's safe to say that for the most part, I don't get art. I mean, I like pretty pictures and all. But as far as "getting" it, I generally don't.

Friend C and I went to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) while I was in NYC. It was fabulous. Admittedly, most of the exhibits and photos and paintings and sculptures, I just don't get. It's artistic on a level that is beyond my wee brain. It's fun and pretty to look at. I enjoyed it.

But it makes no sense.

There was one room full of scribblings on shards of paper from lots of different artists. I'm pretty sure I scribbled a lot of the same stuff when I was a kid, and my mom hung this type of stuff on the fridge. If only she had thought to turn it in to the MoMA, I'd be a famous artist by now.

I just don't get why some of that stuff is "art". I can scribble with the best of them, ya know? As far as I know, none of my scribblings are in demand or worth any money.

But, one really cool thing that we saw was this. The link isn't for MoMA, but this exhibit is now at MoMA. It's called The Brown Sisters, and it is a series of 24 photos of the same four sisters, in the same order in each photo, over 24 years, documenting their aging.



I'm fascinated with anything "sistery". I miss sistery in unimaginable ways sometimes, and sometimes I don't know when that will strike. I could have stared at these 24 photos for a lot longer than I did, which would have thoroughly bored Friend C. But it would have been therapeutic for me to pore over each photo in detail.

It was just cool for me to see these four sisters for each of these 24 years, and how they changed. Whoever thought up this project is genius, whether it was the photographer himself, or someone else. I think it is something we should all have of our own families. Intentional togetherness documented for as long as possible.

In a way, we do this. We take photos at Christmas of our families. Or other special occasions. But sometimes we forget. Or sometimes one person is missing. And it's not intentional. We don't really capture that time. We're not necessarily preserving a memory or creating something to last. We're just trying to use up a roll a film or make the obligatory Christmas card.

In just a few feet of space you could see dramatic changes in each sister from the first year or two to the last years. Towards the end of the row of pictures, it almost gets hard to recognize the faces as the same faces from the beginning photo. But the eyes are the same in each.

I wondered what was going on at the time of each photo. Hard times for one sister? Good times for all? Was this just a project for them, were they just subjects on film? Or did it mean something to each of them?

I look at photos of my sister and me, and she never changes. Turning 30 this year, I've been thinking a lot about age. I will continue to age. I've aged 7 years since the last possible time my sister and I were photographed together. But she will never age. We'll never have another photo together.

She's always 21 in my dreams. She looks the same when I think about her or when I "see" her. But I get older. We're not two years apart anymore. It just doesn't match. It doesn't feel right.

24 years of photos together is really amazing and beautiful.

And that's the kind of art I can get.

C.T.

The Tyrant in NYC
Or, "I See Famous People, Part 108".

I spent the past 5 days in New York City with everyone's favorite little friend, Friend C. It was a fabulous trip. Good weather. No muggings. Lots of fun. I can see why she loves living there. It was tempting for me to stay there and not come home.

Friend C showed me pretty much the whole city. We walked more than I have walked in my entire life. Ever. Since neither of us have any money, we "saw" the sights. Meaning, we walked and subwayed TO everything, but were satisfied without actually paying to do a lot of stuff. It was great. I experienced the awesomeness of the city with a great friend and it was a fabulous vacation.

Some (but not nearly all) highlights:

Best game of Scrabble ever, beating Friend C (C.T. = 358, Friend C. = 166)
Lunch in Central Park
Lunch at Tom's Diner (the Seinfeld diner - good for novelty, but the food - not so much good)
A big giant Gothic cathedral
Syracuse basketball games
Broadway sights
Babysitting kids that aren't mine, nor did I get paid
Ground Zero (not technically a highlight, but a must-see)
Statue of Liberty as seen from the free Staten Island Ferry
Hot Coast Guard guys on the free Staten Island Ferry
Wall Street
Coffee at the Starbucks in one of the 108 Trump Towers
Friend C's $10 Steve Madden shoes
Pancakes at Big Nick's
Nacho's
The biggest slice of pizza in the whole world. Ever.
MoMA
Lots and lots of Friends episodes
Meeting up with our NYC LOST friends

And of course, the famous people.

Day 2 of my NYC adventure was chock full of famous people sightings. If you know me at all, you know that I can't help but find famous people on my vacations. Day 2 was our first day to really get into the City, and by the end of the day I had seen no less than SIX famous people.

I can't help it. I'm sure you've heard of Gaydar. Well, I have what I like to call Fame-dar. Famous people flock to me. I love them, they love me. I can sense when I am near famous people. Seriously, it's like a sixth sense.

Like, right now I am at home. I sense that there will not be any famous people here tonight. Walking down Broadway in NYC? My Fame-dar went NUTS with the nearness of literally millions of famous people close by.

Really, it's all about being aware at all times. And, it's just really important to watch people all the time. Forget about watching where you're going. Stare at people.

C.T.s famous people sightings in NYC:

1. Caroline Rhea (host of The Biggest Loser, previously a star of Sabrina the Teenage Witch)
I spotted Caroline walking past us on Broadway. She wore a pink coat. She was on the phone and she looked right at me as I walked by. She's kinda short. Friend C was on the phone and missed the whole thing.



2. Paula Zahn (CNN)
I spotted Paula walking past us as we came out of Central Park, near the CNN building. She was on the phone, but she did not look at me. She wore a long black coat. She's way tall.



3. Three guys from SNL
This was my first famous person sighting of the trip. We were walking through Rockefeller Center and I noticed some cameras were set up. Then I noticed the cameras were all pointed at Seth Meyers, Andy Samberg, and Will Forte from Saturday Night Live. They were taping a skit for SNL.



As usual, Friend C had no idea what was going on until I said, "Look. Famous people from SNL right there." Really, what would people do without me to point out the famous people around us?

We watched them tape some of the skit. And yes, they do read every single word from cue cards.

4. Now, the last famous person story is awesome for several reasons. She's probably the least famous person out of all the famous people I found in NYC. But, she's got the best story.

For several weeks, Friend C has been through some job woes. Job possibilities coming and going, specifically one possibility as a bartender at one of her favorite local establishments. She frequents this place, has made friends with the manager (we'll call him Carlos). She thought she could certainly get the job of female bartender at this fine establishment.

Well, she didn't get the job. Some other skinny blonde girl got the job. So, Friend C takes me to this place on Friday since she and her friends typically go every Friday night. And sure enough, Tall Skinny Bartender Girl shows up and starts serving drinks at the bar where we happened to be sitting.

Here's what happened next:

Friend C: Yeah, that's the Tall Skinny Blonde Girl who stole my job. We hate her.
CT: Um, she looks familiar.
Friend C: No way. You don't live here. No way you could know her.
CT: Yeah, I'm pretty sure she looks like one of the girls from America's Next Top Model. How funny would that be?
Friend C: Impossible. No way.

I sit there for a few minutes, trying not to blatantly stare. But of course, I'm staring while my brain flips through all of the thousands of reality TV people I have catalogued from years of watching a LOT of reality TV.

Tall Skinny Blonde Girl (TSBG) is now standing right in front of us, and she asks us if we need anything. We say we're fine. Friend C refuses to order anything from this girl who stole her job, and I'm too busy trying to figure out who she is to think of anything to order.

CT: I think her name starts with a K.
Friend C: Stop it. YOU DO NOT KNOW HER.
CT: Kay... um.... Kayla?
Friend C: (gives CT a dirty look)
CT: Yeah, I think she's the one who came in second place two seasons ago. Ask Carlos what her name is.
Friend C: No.
CT: DO IT.

I stare at TSBG some more, watching her spill drinks all over the floor. She's definitely hot, and I am positive she is familiar, but she's a terrible bartender.

Friend C: FINE. Carlos, what's the new girl's name?
Carlos: Kahlen. Yeah, she's kinda famous...
CT: From America's Next Top Model, right?
Carlos: (nods)

HA! I KNEW IT!



Friend C: (to CT) You watch too much TV
CT: I KNOW!!!

Naturally, I am thrilled. This has made my day. After watching 5 seasons of ANTM, I've finally met one of the models. On accident no less. At this place that I've been hearing about from Friend C for months. And, now I can keep tabs on her every week while Friend C goes for her weekly happy hour get together with her friends. Kahlen will soon be one of my new best friends.

Friend C was less than thrilled at this new insight as to why she did not get the bartender job. She lost out to a model....

Personally, I think it's the best story in the world. Ever. And thank goodness I was there to bring all of this to light.

It's not entirely unlike the time I took Friend A to the emergency room for her toe, and I recognized the nurse who taped her toe was Brook Pemberton, one of the bachelors from The Bachelorette. It is odd how reality TV fun for me seems to come at the expense of my friends...

The next day, there were no famous people. We were not in the Famous People Zones. And the last day it rained, and it's a well-known fact that famous people do not go out in the rain. They melt or something.

I did spot our own little famous person, seen here in Central Park:



And of course, what's a trip to NYC without pizza from this quaint little pizza joint near Times Square:



Good times. But it really is exhausting attracting so many famous people.

C.T.

Spring Break, WOO-HOO!
I'm not technically on Spring Break since I'm a grown-up with a non-teacher job. Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking growing up and sticking myself with a job that does not allow spring break, Christmas break, or summer vacation.

But lots of people I know are on Spring Break, and I'm going to NYC to visit Friend C for the start of her Spring Break.

So, I declare myself on Spring Break.

And not just Spring Break, my friends. Spring Break, WOO-HOO!!

Catch y'all next week.

C.T.

Like a punch in the gut
Sometimes I don't remember how much I miss something until it comes out of nowhere and hits me like a punch in the gut.

I don't think I've ever actually been punched in the gut. Which is why it's one of the things that would catch me most off-guard if it happened.

I imagine it would hurt, knock the wind out of me, and there would be some tears.

C.T.

Honk if you can hear me
I've been fighting a cold over the past few days. Sometime Saturday night, my voice decided to leave me.

It's been gone for 3 days now.

I don't even really feel sick anymore, except for a slightly annoying dry cough. But I think I'm coughing for the satisfaction of making a noise, more so than really having a cough.

I mean, I'm usually pretty quiet and all. I don't often have much to say. But of course when I CAN'T say anything, I want to say lots of things. My catty comments during the Oscars last night were frustrating more than funny, and really the only funny thing about me was the sounds that came out of me in my attempt to vocalize words and phrases. I couldn't even say half of the funny stuff going through my head. It would have been lost and only funny to me.

Today I just had to sit around at work and not say much. Because I can't. I had the most painful 10 minute phone conversation I've ever had with a client, because it was only a 5 minute conversation but I had to repeat everything twice because she couldn't hear me.

Every once in awhile I can make a noise. I've decided it sounds like a honk.

Sometimes I open my mouth to say words and absolutely nothing comes out.

Basically a conversation with me at the moment sounds like a series of honks and grunts.

It's pretty amusing to people who aren't me.

I'm getting worried my karaoke career may be over.

C.T.

The Tyrant's Week in Reality TV
I've watched a lot of reality TV this week. I'm behind on my commentaries. I'm also tired. This much reality TV can wear a person out. So, I'll keep it simple.

This week, American Idol took a dive for the worst. With a few exceptions, I was sadly unimpressed with most of the performances. It was worse than last week. One would expect things to get better as we go. And so, I offer these words of advice.

1. Song choice, song choice, song choice. There are literally millions of songs in the world to choose from. Most of them will not annoy me. If I am annoyed at the first few notes of your song, you've lost me.

2. I watch these shows on tape. I watch with my finger on the Fast Forward button. You've got about 10 seconds to not annoy me with whatever you are singing before I fast-forward you off of my stage.

3. A hero NEVER comes along. You are NOT the wing beneath my wings. And the thunder NEVER rolls. If any song you sing has anything to do with any of these things, you've lost me.

4. Sometimes, even being pretty doesn't help. Ace, I'm talking to you.

5. I can fast-forward through the results show in about seven minutes. I would love to give my over-worked fast-forward finger a break (see #2 above). Therefore, I would like the results to be no more than seven minutes in real time. I don't need the drama. I don't need the worst medleys ever put together and sung by way too many people who should never, ever sing together in a group. I don't need to be tortured by the losers singing the song again that got them kicked off the show. I just need to know who is going home. Seven minutes or less.

6. The other 23 minutes of a 30-minute slot (we certainly don't need a full hour of this stuff) can be filled with more of drunk Paula. I'm pretty sure she was drunk tonight, and that much of the show was entertaining. Moths and cornflakes? What?

7. Crooning is soooo 1950s. Please get off of my stage and go back to the decade from whence you came.

Oh look. He did get off my stage tonight. Wishes do come true, when you're young at heart.

I'm not sad about anyone who left the show tonight. They are (spoiler alert):

We didn't so much love the way you sang tonight - Crooner Guy Whose Name I Can't Remember
When you're bad, you're so, so bad - Brenna
I told you a hero NEVER comes along - Heather
I have no idea what you sang but it was whiny and annoying - Sway

In other news, Amazing Race did not disappoint. I like the nerds. The annoying guy with the annoyingly hyper southern accent needs to quit calling the African American team the "black people." And the next team to be eliminated had better be the Amazon sisters because OH MY GAWD if I hear them scream ONE MORE TIME I WILL TRACK THEM DOWN WHEREVER THEY ARE IN THE WORLD AND PHYSICALLY REMOVE THEIR VOCAL CHORDS.

ANTM sadly does not premiere until next week. I was anticipating it this week, but I was wrong. And I was sad.

Although I don't really know where I would have put it in my schedule.

And that, my friends, was the Tyrant's week in Reality TV.

C.T.

A bit too much Mardi in her Gras....



C.T.

Reality TV is where I'll be this week
Folks, we've got a big week of Reality TV this week. If you need me, I'll be watching all of it.

On my schedule:

Tonight was the season finale of The Bachelor. Thank goodness he didn't pick Moanna (oops! spoiler alert!). Her freakout in the limo after (while classic and effectively desperate, whiny, and teary) was pretty disappointing. I was hoping for a MUCH bigger tantrum.

Tomorrow night we've got the season premiere of The Amazing Race 9. Always good times. I love travel and reality TV, and this show rolls it into one fun-filled adventure. We're back to two-person teams, so we should also be back to a good season of trans-atlantic drama.

We've also got three episodes of American Idol this week: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Too much? Of course! But I'll be watching.

And Wednesday also brings us the season premiere of America's Next Top Model. For the diehards, you'll find a preview and recap show on Tuesday night. I, for one, am super excited. Like, I kinda jumped up and down with excitement about it last night. In front of people...

Now, you might ask, "Tyrant, how can you manage to watch so much reality TV when so much if it is on the same nights and you do not have Tivo or DVR? Not to mention LOST, non-reality but still fabulous?" Well, I will tell you.

I have TWO VCRs and TWO TVs.

Take that, Tivo.

Yes, before I go to bed tonight I will have constructed a complex gameplan of scheduling and programming to make sure that both of my TVs and VCRs are choreographed and set to tape hours upon hours of Reality TV this week. It's quite an orchestration, but I've done it before. I may not sleep much this week. But I will know everything there is to know about the most important thing in the world... Reality TV.

I'd also like to take the Reality Madness one step further and introduce some new blog friends. I met Steve through MOL at church one night, then again at the MOL Christian Conference where he manned the booth next to mine. He and his buddy have a very special blog that I am growing to love: Realityblogs.com.

I've been asked to contibute my valuable insights to this fabulous blog as my Reality TV schedule allows. But even without my expertise, Realityblogs is pretty genius. These guys are pretty hardcore. Check it out. You might see me there from time to time, if my Reality TV offerings can add anything positive or valuable to their geniusery as related to Reality TV.

And as always, check back here for periodic Reality TV updates

It's a lot to keep up with, I know. But someone's gotta do it.

Pick me.

C.T.

Oh my darling Clementine
I have recently been introduced to the Clementine orange. It is a fascinating fruit.



Clementines are small and cute and can go just about anywhere and do just about anything.

In fact, our cameras were able to capture the activities of a Clementine in her natural habitat throughout the day. Let's take a look at a day in the life of a Clementine, through her eyes:











































This Clementine was later eaten by me. But at least we know she had an eventful and productive last day.

She was a happy little fruit until the very end. And then she was quite sweet and tasty.

Thus is the life of the Clementine.

C.T.

Idol Favorites
Keeping it short tonight...

I predict one of these Idols will be the winner:



or





I just like these Idols and I hope they stay a long time:


He's interesting and fun and he can sing. Although I hope the quirkiness doesn't get too annoying more so than it is (so far) loveable.


He's hot, yet kinda rough and rocker-ish (not in a Grandma rocker kind of way), and he can sing. And his favorite female singer is Kelly Clarkson, sooo me likey.


Fun to watch.


He's very pretty, and he can sing. Although I'm almost annoyed with the whole "Ace" name thing. Really? Is that your name? It's a little too perfect.



And, PLEASE GET HER OFF THE SHOW RIGHT NOW!!!



Good heavens, I didn't think one person could be so annoying. It's not easy annoying me so early in the season.

Let the games begin.

C.T.

I'm not deleting posts
Blogger is deleting them for me, without even asking.

If you saw a post here and now it's suddenly missing, that's what is going on.

The mystery of what is a sport and what is NOT a sport may now never be known, since that post seems gone forever.

C.T.

Mega MOL Christian Conference
I don't usually blog about work. And I don't usually go overboard incorporating the MOL usage into my blogs. But I just spent the better part of two days at a conference I will refer to as Mega MOL Christian Conference. Here I witnessed the most MOL of Christian activities and personalities, all gathered under one roof. It begs to be mentioned on the blog.

I was able to interact with some Christian MOLs:

Prestonwood MOL



Bible Answer Man MOL



I shared the floor with representatives of other Christian MOLs:

Word of Faith Movement MOL



And other Christian MOLs made special appearances for autograph signings:

Jim Bakker MOL



But even more intriguing than the MOL Personalities were the rows and rows of Christian products. There is literally a Christian version of anything you could ever need. I saw these and many more:

Christian luggage, complete with Bible verses that I'm sure were handcrafted into the pieces of luggage by actual Christians
Christian Gourmet recipes
Christian comedians
Christian jewelry and furniture, made entirely by Christians
Christian travel agents
Christian places to travel to
Christian video and audio equipment, to film and hear those special Christian moments
Christian television shows and networks
Christian radio networks
Christian publishers
And yes, Christian soy bars

There's even Christian niche television programming, any program you could possibly think of to "reach" lost souls in obscure markets. One guy came and talked to me about helping him get his Christian Bowhunting program going.

Yes, I said Christian bowhunting.

But even with all of the MOL Christian Mega Stars, and the MOL Christian products, and the Super MOL Big Christian Hair, Hairdos, and Toupees, I think the MOST MOL thing I saw this week was a life-size sculpture of Jesus hanging on a cross, and the whole thing was made entirely of nails.

Like, how do you even make that?

I'll stick with Christian Bowhunting, thank you very much.

GLORY!

C.T.

I have yet to kill a mockingbird
So, for the second time in the past two months, I got a call today from Blockbuster telling me that they are going to charge my account for the full price of a movie that I have rented that is too many days past the due date.

Problem is, BOTH times I have received this call I did NOT rent the movie they say I rented.

The first time it was Bourne Supremacy, or the other Bourne. I don't know. Some dumb movie I have never seen.

Today it was To Kill a Mockingbird. I watched this in highschool because I had to. They made us. Why would I watch it again now when I have to pay for it?

The first time I happened to be driving near my local Blockbuster when I got the automated call, so I stopped in to talk to someone about it. I called my parents to make sure they hadn't used my card on accident. They don't even have my card. I just wanted to cover all of my bases before I tried to explain to Young Blockbuster Employee (YBE) that I did not rent that movie, so I can't very well turn it back in.

He said he believed me and he took the charge off of my account. Problem solved.

Today after I got the automated call, I called the store and explained that I was about to be charged AGAIN for another movie I did not rent.

YBE put me on hold several times. He told me that yes, they show that To Kill a Mockingbird was rented on my account.

I asked him how that could be when I am the only person on my card, and I did not rent the movie. I told him all of the movies I have rented lately, and none of these movies include To Kill a Mockingbird.

I told him that I can't turn in a movie that I haven't rented, and I assured him that I HAD NOT RENTED IT, and I do not want to be charged for a movie that I did not rent.

He put me on hold.

When he came back he said that I would have to speak to a manager since YBE did not have the power to check in a movie that had not been turned in.

Really, I'm not asking him to do that. I am not asking him to check in an imaginary movie, or produce a movie out of thin air that would happen to be the movie in question. I'm just asking him to correct my account and not hold me responsible for turning in a movie I DO NOT HAVE.

Whoever has it can then turn in the movie, or pay the ridiculous amount of money for a really old movie if they want to keep it.

He then said the manager was out today and he would be at conferences tomorrow and that he doesn't work on weekends (talk about IMAGINARY, I think his MANAGER is imaginary!). So he said I would have to call back on Monday.

Meanwhile I'm paying like, $15 for To Kill a Mockingbird until all of this gets cleared up. And I don't even have the movie to show for it. To play by Blockbuster's rules, I should get to go to their store, find To Kill a Mockingbird on their shelf, and take it home with me without actually renting it.

I got the manager's name and I will call him on Monday. But really, Blockbuster. You need to come up with a better scheme to get rid of the movies you don't want anymore.

Try this: Bring in more copies of the good movies that people rent more often and that are never there when I go look for a good movie even though you "guarantee in stock" a lot of titles. Then when you get home, throw To Kill a Mockingbird away.

Don't make innocent people pay for it. Unless you want me to switch to Netflix.

C.T.

Things that were good for me over the weekend
A little late on these, but whatever.

1. Grouting my shower.
First, a thorough cleaning of the shower. Then the filling in of places where the grout has worn thin. I already had the grout on hand, for some reason. I mean, doesn't everyone keep grout around the house? And again, I needed the therapy. When I'm stressed or upset, I tend to turn super OCD and I clean a lot. Thanks to stress, my house now has steam-cleaned carpets and new grout in my shower. I'm sure I'll find more to do this weekend!

I also need to start working out again. After all the cleaning and the grouting, my legs and back felt like I had been lifting weights all day. Who knew grouting could make you so sore?

2. Kelly Clarkson.



I finally bought it. I really needed it in an emergency sort of way this weekend. And I have to say I honestly, truly love it.

There. I said it. I'm a fan.

3. Napping.
I'm not sleeping so well at night lately. But napping is something I'm getting really good at.

Is it the weekend again, yet?

C.T.

My Eyes! My Eyes!
This morning I woke up and went to the bathroom to get ready for work as I always do. I put in my contacts and was suddenly met with searing eyeball pain.

After I was finally able to get the contact back out of my eye, I noticed a large chunk of the contact missing that was not previously missing say... before it went into my eyeball.

At first I was just annoyed that I broke a contact, I would have to wear my glasses to work all day, and I would have to either go visit my eye doctor or at least order a new contact. Neither of which I want to do because neither of these things are free.

Then later (about halfway through my day) I realized that my contact had broken in my eye, and I never actually found that large missing shard of contact. I began to believe that it was still lodged in my eyeball, noticing that my eyeball did feel weird, but did not necessarily hurt.

Clearly my eyeball was in shock due to having a plastic contact shard lodged in it.

I try never to go to my doctors because once I start going, it never stops. Lately I've been trying to use up extra Flex Spending money (which I have since used up) by going to the doctor and whatnot. I've now seen every doctor I've ever known. And I now need to stop spending Flex Spending money.

So naturally it's the perfect time for my eyeball to get contact shards lodged in it. Just when I need to stop going to doctors and stop spending money on doctors.

I went to work and started making phone calls. My usual eye doctor is no longer on my insurance so I can't go to see him cheaply. To buy just the one new contact is $110. But I can get most of that reimbursed if I do something ... but maybe I want to try soft contacts... yada yada... insurance mumbo jumbo...

Blech.

Finally I made an appointment to see a new doctor (recommended by a co-worker) and I went on about my day.

Can you believe that my coworkers actually called me four-eyes? I don't wear my glasses to work. They are fabulous, trendy glasses, mind you. But, I don't see as well out of them and they are super thick. I am far less productive with the glasses on, as opposed to my more businessy contacts.

Four-eyes? Really? Are we 12 years old?

I finally got to the new doctor, who was seriously more devoid of personality than my coworker warned me that he was. But he was quick. I like that.

Stare at the thingy in the distance... check. Puff of air thingy THAT I HATE... check. Read that chart... check. Can you see anything with your glasses off? No. Check.

The one thing that I didn't like was that he didn't ask me why I was there. He just started examining me as though I was there for fun, or for a regular appointment that I crammed in at the end of my day. I had to volunteer to him that in addition to this fun eye exam, I think I have a shard of contact lens still stuck in my eyeball. Could you check on that???

Check.

Fortunately, the shard was not there. Which means it either fell out of my eyeball this morning. Or it's lodged back in my brain somewhere. I guess we'll find out one day.

I asked about trying soft lenses. I felt like an idiot. As though these "new-fangled soft lenses" were a brand new futuristic contraption that people are trying these days.

Every time I tell people that I still wear gas permeable lenses (ie: NOT soft and NOT disposable) they react like it's some ancient form of torturous eyewear that no one uses anymore. Friend C once watched me actually cleaning my lenses and she had no idea what I was doing, since apparently you don't have to clean soft disposable lenses.

I've always had gas perm lenses. I was told soft lenses would never be good enough for my severely blind eyeballs. So I never figured they were an option for me. But, my hope is that soft lenses have come a long way since I was in the 5th grade.

See, with gas perm lenses, if you lose one or it breaks, you have to go through the whole ordeal of ordering a new lens, it's expensive, it takes awhile. It is a gas perm lens wearer's greatest fear to lose a lens. I had that fear put into me at a very young age: do not lose or break a lens! Apparently it's the end of the world when this happens, and it almost has been the few times I've broken or lost a lens.

But with the soft disposable lenses you are literally supposed to throw them away! It's genius! Lose a lens, you've already got another box of them in your medicine cabinet! No big deal!

I like the sound of this. And he thought soft disposable lenses would be a good idea for me. So, Mr. New Eye Doc ran to fetch a pair of soft lenses so that I could try them. Which meant he would have to show me how to put them in, since it is different than putting in gas perm lenses.

Almost entirely different. The only thing that is the same is that with either lens you do end up with a lense on your eyeball. Otherwise, it's a completely different finger-poking-in-your-eyeball experience.

See, I don't really so much like to touch my eyeball. Much like Rachel of Friends. Although not quite that bad.

The first time I was ever shown how to put in my contact lenses was a horrificly traumatic experience for me. I was in the 5th grade. No one else my age had contacts. The whole idea was very scary.

This nurse woman at the eye doctor's office sat me in a chair and pretty much lunged at me from across the room with a contact on the end of her finger, aiming for my eyeball. It took many, MANY tries to get the contact into my eyeball, and even more tries to get me to do it myself. And then I thought I would never recover from the pain and discomfort. My mom watched the whole thing in horror. It was terrible.

But, the good thing about the gas perm lenses is that if you get them ANYWHERE near your eyeball, your eyeball will pretty much suck the lense into place. This is good since I never learned how to put the lens on correctly (I was too frightened by the experience of learning), and I always have to scoot it around my eyeball to get it into place.

I hate that woman.

So today, Mr. New Eye Doc got to show me how to put in a soft lens, which involves a lot of touching my eyeball. But, I picked it up after a few tries. It was weird, and I felt like an idiot (again), but I got them in there. So far, so good. I can see and it's strangly more comfortable than I thought they would be, given my eyeballs are supposed to take three weeks to adjust to the different lens.

I do greatly fear trying to get the lenses OUT of my eyeballs tonight, since this will involve quite a bit more eyeball touching. That should be fun.

But, I walked out of the doctor's office able to see without my glasses, and this was a surprise. I expected to have to order new lenses that would take a week or so to be ready, being forced to wear my glasses until then. Stumbling about, not able to see well. Folly sure to follow me around for the week.

What will they think of next?? Contact lenses you can wear the same day of your eye exam?? Genius.

This post is way more contact lens detail than anyone wants to know. But, welcome to my life.

I'm just glad I could see well enough to type for so long. What with the shard lodged in my eyeball and all.

C.T.

Olympic Fever!
Yes, I have it. Olympic Fever.

I love the Olympics. Some may say the Olympics are dead. Others may not have even known they've begun. But I don't care. Even if I'm the only person watching the men's Luge right now, I don't care.

Winter Games. Summer Games. Doesn't matter.

I. Love. Olympics.

I love the tradition of it. I love the emotion of it. I used to know who all the athletes are. I always wanted the Wheaties boxes of the gold medal winners. I used to want to win my own gold medal in something. Not sure what. But I used to really want to get to stand on the podium while they played my national anthem.

Mostly because I'd get to be on a Wheaties box. And who doesn't want to be on a Wheaties box?

I don't even really care about most of the sports. Some things I'm pretty sure are not even sports. Curling? Really?

Doesn't matter. I will watch it.

I especially love the Opening and Closing Ceremonies. After a brief freak out this morning when I thought I had once again non-taped something I intended to tape, I spent several hours watching the Opening Ceremonies.

It's better on tape because I can fast-forward through the crap. And I'll admit, most of it is crap. But, I love the pageantry of it. I love the spirit of it. I love the production of it.

Most of all, I like to make fun of it.

Here are some highlights (not as much fun as my annual Grammy recap, but this will have to do):

A giant flame-spitting anvil
People on roller blades and skateboards
Spandex, and lots of it
An Italian flag corp
Something Cirque de Soleil-ish
Pavarotti
Some supermodel in an oyster shell
People and body parts coming up through the floor
A Ferarri race car doing donuts in the middle of the floor
Plastic cows, complete with cow sounds
The Ricola guys
Like, 100 people in the shape of one really big skier dude (this was cool in fast-forward - he actually looked like he was skiing)
A drill team, possibly from the local highschool
Giant hot air balloons with scary faces on them and people hanging from them
Lots of fireworks
And, Susan Sarandon carrying a corner of the Olympic flag with 7 other ladies. It must be a heavy flag.

Really, the best part is the commentators that give the play-by-play. I don't know how they can say what they are watching without busting out laughing. It goes something like this.

"Mary, I believe what we are seeing now is a roller-blading drill team with fire shooting out of their helmets. And yes... I believe they are skating around giant plastic cows. This scene represents Italy's love of bar-b-cue in the Alps."

"Yes, Bob. And the cows are being operated by local children from a large orphanage. They've been given special flame-retardant suits so that the flame-shooting roller bladers do not harm these precious children. Also, the children have never seen live cows before. This is a big day for them."

"Oh look. Mary, the giant oyster is opening to reveal world-famous supermodel Olga from the Czech Republic. This symbolizes Italy's love of seafood, and the local cuisine of oysters that are native to the Alps here in Torrino."

It goes on and on like that. Really, if you have to explain the bizarreness that we are seeing on screen so that the audience knows what it "represents", maybe you should have kept it simpler. Or just let us wonder what we're looking at. The people watching live in the stadium don't get to hear the commentary, and they have no idea what they are looking at.

Just get the Ricola guys back out there for the rest of the show. We all know they represent cough drops.

My absolute favorite part is the parade of nations (this year done to the tunes of disco music from the 70s and 80s). I don't have any idea who these people are. I've long since given up keeping up with these athletes, and now they all seem like young kids anyway (except for the Australian Curling team - that guy was 40 years old!). But I LOVE to watch all of the countries walk by in their spiffy and weird (ahem, Mongolia - hats!) outfits.

See, the parade of nations really sums up the whole spirit of the Olympics. Some of these athletes, this is their whole life. They come from countries that place so much importance on cranking out superior athletes. This moment in the spotlight is already their crowning achievement. For the little countries who never win, this moment of walking into the stadium is the highlight. They may never win a medal. But on this first official day of the Olympics, everyone is still a winner. No races have been lost, yet. Everyone still has hope.

I love the small countries who have only one or two athletes. It's almost more exciting for me to see them there than all of the big countries with the huge entourages of athletes. I love that the Virgin Islands sends one athlete every year. She is the world's oldest Olympian. She's been six times. She never wins. They call her Granny Luge.

I love that countries that never see snow have athletes in the Winter Games.

I love that you can work and live in America, but if you were born in another country or have any ties whatsoever to another country, you can be on their team. The lone athlete from Thailand is a professor here in the U.S. That's so cool.

Really, the parade of all the nations is what we should strive for everyday. The world comes together for one purpose, in peace (as Yoko Ono so eloquently blabbered on about at the ceremony). North and South Korea march in together. Outside of these circumstances, they are at war. But for these two weeks, we have one agenda. We coexist.

Why can't it be like the Olympics all the time? Everyone cheering for everyone else. Loud disco favorites. Underdogs getting the spotlight for awhile. Understanding. Common goals. Peace.

Of course, as much as I love to watch all of the countries walk in the parade, I always get teary when the U.S. team walks. This year I thought about getting people together to watch the ceremonies with me. But then I realized that 1) very few people would care to come over and fast-forward through the ceremony with me, and b) I cry like a baby during much of it and that is embarrassing for me.

Today as I watched (alone), I also got teary as the Italian team walked in. They get to go last because they are the host country. Maybe it was because most of them are um, really hot (such beautiful people!). It brought a tear to my eye. But mostly, it's the sound of the crowd going wild at the sight of their own athletes.

I've decided that maybe I need people to cheer more for me on a regular basis. I just love the sound of it for other people. Maybe I'm not cheered for enough...

Last in the ceremony is the lighting of the torch. This is always pretty cool. Sometimes lame, but this year there were lots of fireworks with it and that's always cool. It's fun to see who the last few people are that get to carry the flame to the big torch. This year it was a bunch of Italians I've never heard of, but yay for them anyway!

The fire is lit.

The games have begun, people.

Go America.

C.T.

I had a really great post
It was witty and funny (both), short, and to the point. It was delightful.

I thought of it today when I walked to the bathroom, and by the time I was finished in the bathroom, I'd written the whole thing in my head.

It was great.

10 hours later, I've completely forgotten it.

This post is definitely not the post I wrote in my head earlier today.

I plan to spend a lot of time going back and forth to the bathroom tomorrow to find my blog post.

It has to be there somewhere.

C.T.

It's just not okay
Bad news. Really, really bad news. I made a bad decision. A really, really bad decision.

I set my VCR (yes, VCR - I do not afford Tivo or DVR) to tape the Grammys. For my annual recap. And because I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE awards shows and I have been looking forward to the Grammys all week.

Even though the Grammys are once a year, I decided to keep my standing date to watch LOST with my local LOST group. I've grown to love that time, and I really needed the people interaction this week.

So, I decided to tape the Grammys (instead of staying home to watch them live). And I went to LOST group.

I loved LOST group (as always), but it was a bad decision.

I got home from LOST group. I put on my pjs. I snuggled onto my couch. I figured I would watch some Grammys until I fall asleep.

Pressed "Play".

NO GRAMMYS.

I accidentally taped TV from THIS MORNING starting at 7 AM instead of 7PM. I now have three hours of the Early Show.

Who watches that??? I WANT GRAMMYS!!! I don't even care if they are good or not, so don't try to appease me with "the show really wasn't that great." It's never that great. That's not the point.

I LOVE AWARDS SHOWS.

Unless I can find someone who either has it on tape or who will let me live at their house for at least 3.5 hours to watch the Grammys on Tivo, I will not be able to write my recap.

I LOVE MY GRAMMYS RECAP.

And I just really don't know what to do with myself facing the horrible reality that I may not get to watch the Grammys this year.

I was looking forward to it. A lot. I needed it this week. A lot.

I hate everyone and everything right now.

Unless you have Grammys for me. Then I love you a lot.

C.T.

Even better than clean carpets
I got to spend time over the weekend with my dear friend Pink Revolver, and her fiance, um.... Mr. Pink Revolver.

I find them both to be very abrasive.



But there were hats.

It was all quite lovely.

C.T.

My carpets are clean
Not because they were particularly dirty, but I needed the therapy this weekend.

I borrowed my parents' carpet cleaner thingy, and I enjoyed a weekend of thoroughly cleaning my carpets. The straight lines. The fluffy carpet. The sucking out of dirt and grime.

Seeing what came out and throwing it away, knowing that even though I couldn't see it in my carpet, it was making my house and my life dirtier than the after-effects of a deep cleaning.

Feeling cleansed afterwards.

Much needed therapy.

I also trimmed, hacked, and sawed tree limbs to make my fig tree neater. It was attacking my neighbor's fence by leaning on it.

I needed that therapy, too. Pruning the tree, saving the fence, helping my neighbor. Sweat and manual labor.

Funny, though, how cleaning everything around me doesn't necessarily ease what's going on inside me. But at least I wore myself out enough to sleep.

And my carpets are spring-time fresh. That's a bonus.

C.T.

You saw it here first
Thanks to Earl for alerting me to this atrocity.

On January 19, I wrote about the burn ban.

Today, Earl finds this in a Houston paper.

What is up??

Houston, we have a problem. You totally ripped me off.

Just goes to show you, if you want your news on time and with a FRESH, NON-RIPPED OFF perspective, read it here from The Tyrant first.

C.T.

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.