I Got Sucked In...

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I got totally sucked in by that, (insert weep), TV show. Yes, Father, mid-season, that stupid, yet entertaining show, Dancing With the Stars, sucked me in! Satan's influence, I'm sure!

Okay, I confessed my sin, so here's what I love about that stupid show...

Clumsy, big personalities try to ballroom dance. Seriously. Are there even ballrooms now? But, hey, let's roll with it. It's all about the challenge to get and be better. And, for the most part, they all do improve (or hard-kicked off the show -- I love that part, btw).

Now, ballroom dancing would NOT be my arena to rise to the occasion, but I appreciate the platform of a challenge. I totally respect the efforts of celebrities whoring themselves out to be criticized each week by a panel of flamboyant "experts" and subjected to a popularity contest from TV-land voters. But, it’s been a good voting record for Americans this year. Brooke and Obama should be very proud. I know I love a winner!

Uh, soooo...now that this dance-farce season is over, how in hell am I gonna spend my Monday and Tuesday evenings....?

Beyonce Tore It UP!

Okay, if there was ever any doubt before, there's none now. Beyonce IS Shasha Fierce and just tore it UP at the American Music Awards. Miss Diva was shakin' all of her equipment and freakin' rocked the show, ho!

"If you like it, then you should have put a ring on it." OMG she was singing that for me. I'm going to use that phase from now on... And the ponytail: gotta have it!

I've been watching it over and over (I love you TIVO) so many times that now my two puppies and Mr. Kitty are plotting my demise, but I don't care. Beyonce was FABU! Beyonce IS FABU!

Beyonce -- I worship you, gurl, though my animals want you dead!

What Would Jesus Do, Charlie Brown?

Trust me, Jesus would not approve celebrating his birthday, say, two months in advance! Now, I would totally welcome a Brad birthday celebration all year long (btw: my birthday is Dec. 3rd – registered at Neimans, thankyou), but I’m not Jesus (and thank God for that one…could you imagine the pressure of that gig?)

I digress…so, I’m merrily driving home from the office tonight when, out of the blue, my favorite radio station switches to ALL CHRISTMAS MUSIC 24/7! Now, it took two verses of Michael Buble singing “Let It Snow” to me before I realized what was going on, but I had been assimilated! It’s Christmas (kinda).

So now I’m forced to be “nice.” And worse off, I have to buy things for people who I would normally never buy items for (yes, I know…I ended that sentence in a preposition…"thank you, Miss Wilder. Can Laura Ingalls and I go out and play now?").

When did it become okay to celebrate Christmas almost two months in advance? Did Jesus approve this calendar change? I doubt he was included in the approval process. I think this is more about retailers getting everyone in a depressed economy in the spending mood two months before they have to be. That's cool...we all have our strategies. As Charlie Brown would say, "That's the secret to life...replace one worry with another." Charlie was wise beyond his years.

But, FAIR WARNING!

To all of my family and friends:
Though I love you more than last season's Prada, I am NOT buying anyone anything extravagant this year, especially two months before someone else’s birthday that requires me to get you a gift to celebrate his birthday to make me feel fulfilled and so Michael Buble can sing to me and make me feel warm and fuzzy inside...I mean, seriously! What would Jesus do, Charlie Brown?

I Love Dan Henry

When it gets stormy, I turn to Dan. When it gets sunny, I turn to Dan. Whether the weather is ugly or gorgeous, Fox 4's chief meteorologist, Dan Henry, totally rocks my cumulonimbus.

Trust me, I've spent many a night glued to the TV while Dan tells me which weather pattern is blowing in and how I should prepare. Seriously, I haven't had someone tell me how to dress the next day since my mother in elementary school, so I welcome Dan politely suggesting I slip on an extra sweater or take an umbrella (fashionable, of course) to work. He's my fashion coach in addition to weather hero. Dan rocks.

And Lord knows Dan's the one I turn to when the weather gets rough. When those nasty Texas thunderstorms roll through town, if Dan tells me he sees rotation on the radar, trust me, I'm hunkering down in the closet with my puppies and Mr. Kitty Kitty. Bottom line, Dan knows rotation.

But what I love most about Dan Henry is his calm, suave demeanor. He never sensationalizes Mother Nature (God knows she’s drama enough). Dan always remains cool, reassuring and in total control (I like that in a man). No matter what weather calamity is happening outside, Dan tells me what to do and that I'll get through it just fine. Dan's my rock.

I simply cannot get through the day without Dan Henry (it's the way he gives the 7-day). So, if you're in the Dallas market, make sure you check out Dan Henry's forecast at 9 p.m. But hands off...Dan's MY weatherman!

High Fashion Bat

Only I would find an injured bat, rescue it from a pack of angry wolves (okay, inquisitive miniature dachshunds) wearing oven mitts I got for a crappy Christmas present last year (finally found a use for those damn things) and carefully place the poor thing in a Salvatore Ferragamo shoebox (bet that's the equivalent to a Four Seasons Spa & Resort for a bat) for safekeeping until “Batwoman” (that’s name I gave the bat rescue lady) gets here to pick up the poor fella and nurse it back to bat-health.

Hmmm…I wonder if Batwoman will arrive in full bat costume…maybe she’ll even be driving, dare I dream, the Batmobile? Now, that would definitely cap off my weekend in grand style! Batwoman arriving at 6451 Runnemede Lane in the Batmobile! I could just hear the chatter of my neighbors, “Did you see the Batmobile pull up to Brad’s house? Wonder what bat emergency occurred? Will Gotham City ever be the same?” I would surely win Home and Garden of the Month again with the Batman sign perfectly shining over my house.

Stayed tune…same bat-time…same bat-channel.

Blind Date Hell

So, we met on match.com.
He seemed like a very cool, mid-40s successful executive.
Very handsome, athletic, nice body, outgoing, personable, etc.

Well, that was his online advertisement...in person, notsomuch. 20-pounds heavier and MANY years older than mid-40s.

I arrive at Mi Cocina, a trendy Dallas TexMex restaurant, a little late because of a fashion emergency (I recovered, thankyou), but Mr. Match.com was pissed at me and waiting outside! Seriously, who waits outside Mi Cocina when there’s a bar inside?? Trust me, if he were late, I wouldn’t care HOW long it took him to get there. Give me a good bartender, auto-pilot cocktail service and a fun crowd of people and I’m good to go, thankyou!

So, to help get him back to a good place, I decide he needs a nice, strong margarita to help him get over my lateness (alcohol, please save the evening). Well, nothankyou. He takes one sip and says “I don’t really like drinking that much and this drink is tart.” Tart? Really? And you don’t like alcohol? Seriously? My god, there are people out there who don’t like alcohol? Now, Mother Teresa died several years ago, but besides her, I found the only dud in Dallas that doesn’t drink? It’s gonna be an asswhoopin’ of an evening. So, I down my drink (in seconds) then grab his drink and down it. He was shocked. The bartender smiled. The group next to us cheered. I was the hit of the bar. Of course. My date: not impressed...”do you drink a lot,” he asks. “Honey, there’s no way I can drink too much tonight,” I replied.

So we finally get our table...we were in the BRIGHT room so I got to see all the imperfections that his cleverly placed match.com profile didn’t reveal. I try to engage him in witty conversation making sure I take time to listen and not talk, but all I get are one-word answers. “So, tell me about your job...” “It’s good,” he answers. Jesus, save me. Then we order...I ordered some crappy fish tacos and two more margaritas then he says “I want tea., not a margarita” I replied “the two margs are for me, not you.”

After he eats all of his dinner, he then focuses on my "picked-at" plate and asks “you gonna eat that?” “No,” I replied. In an instant, Mr. Match.com REACHES across the table and takes my COMPLETE plate and proceeds to finish off my dinner for me. I then order 2 more margs because the alcohol ain’t a’ kickin’ in yet!

So, after the feeding frenzy at the zoo, he looks across the table at me and says (and I’m not kidding), “You have too much personality for me.” OMG wasn’t that fabulous? I replied, “Yes. Yes, I do. CHECK PLEASE!”

Soooo, on my “elated the date is over” drive home, I decide to test my newly discovered potent personality and drive down to Yale Street where all of those SMU college bars are...I find a princess parking spot right in front and proceed in to test my bold personality. MR. MATCH.COM WAS RIGHT! In 5 minutes, I’m in the middle of a drinking game by the pool table with this crowd of hot, young SMUers and in the spotlight where I belong.

So, lessons of the evening: match.com sucks...never trust those who don’t drink...and when life gives you a dud, go to a frat bar and make new friends.