Last week I shared my list of Best of 2006. This week, I give you my list of the year's worst:

Song: "London Bridge," Fergie. "How come every time you come around, My London, London bridge, wanna go down like, London, London, London, wanna go down like, London, London, London, we goin’ down like..." Huh? You know, it takes a lot to beat Paris Hilton's "Stars are Blind" in this category...

Web site: PerezHilton.com. I'm sure it's not the worst site out there, but it's so horribly addictive -- and without any redeeming qualities (ain't it great?) -- that I can't stop!

TV show: "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip." No, it's not the worst show on TV, but it was the biggest disappointment. Maybe Aaron Sorkin should go back on drugs. (Sorry, that was mean.) I have loved, loved, loved every single one of his other shows, and I was so looking forward to this one. I mean, Matthew Perry, back on TV! How could I not love the show? But it's so obvious and preachy. It would help if I liked any of the characters on the show, but they're so, I don't know, unlikable. There's not one character I'd like to be "friends" with. What a letdown.

Movie: "The Breakup." That's two hours of my life I'll never get back. I didn't think it would be possible to make Vince Vaughn unappealing, but there you go.

Book: "The Alchemist." Yes, I know it didn't come out this year, but that's when I read it, so... And yes, millions of people have found it inspirational, blah blah blah. Bo-ring. I think it was the only book I read this year that I didn't like. And considering how many books I read, that's saying something.

Store: Sigh. Target. Y'all know why. Don't make me rehash the whole sordid tale.

Well, that's my list. And that's all for this year. I wish you all a very happy, healthy and prosperous new year. See you in 2007. Peace.

I hate Christmas, because when it's over, it means another year is upon us, which means another birthday is on its way. Eek.

Instead, I'm going to focus on the positive -- presents! I got the best presents this year! Yes, I know Christmas is about spending time with the family, but, hey, that's pretty much every weekend at our house. What's different about Christmas? Yes, that's right -- presents!

Here's a rundown of what I got (in no particular order):

Nike + iPod -- this is the coolest thing. I connect it to my sneakers and my iPod and it becomes a personal fitness trainer. It tracks how many miles I walk, how many calories I've burned, etc. It even "talks" to me, giving me motivational messages. Actually, it's a little creepy. LOL.

A beautiful silver bracelet, the proceeds of which were donated to ovarian cancer research. So it's a gift that gives twice. I tried to take a picture, but it kept giving too much flash, so you'll just have to take my word for it -- it's gorgeous.

"Tell No One," by Harlan Coben. I just started reading it, but it seems like a pretty good murder mystery so far.

A beautiful Pashmina shawl from the gals at work.

An iPod radio. It's an iPod player, it's an alarm clock -- it's iHome2Go!

A cake plate, a portable pie plate and a pie-crust shield. Trying to tell me something?

A 2007 "George W. Bushisms" daily calendar. That'd be 365 days of funny if it weren't 365 days of true.

A car emergency travel kit.

A box of Godiva.

Good job everyone! I don't know how you're going to top that next year ... you've set the bar pretty high. Better start planning now ...

To see the Diarrhea family Christmas extravaganza, click here. Don't let the first pic frighten you!

Grrr. People are rude.

So I'm at work the other day (Friday, to be exact), and some dude from another department comes over to our group and proceeds to tell each person individually that there's a bunch of food in his area. That is, he told everyone except me. Instead, he told the person in the cubicle in front of mine that she was free to "tell your friend, because I'm not going to" ... and he punctuated it with a dismissive wave of his hand. Nice.

Now, I just want to point out that I don't know this guy. I mean, I've seen him around, but I've never so much as spoken two words to him. We're not in the same group, and our two groups never have any reason for interaction. I've just never given him much thought, good or bad. So I was a little taken aback, since it was such an overt way of dismissing me. It's not that he forgot -- it's that he wanted to make a point of not inviting me.

So I mentioned this to someone else in the office. I wanted to know if I'd said or done something of which I had no idea. Turns out, the guy dislikes me because I don't speak Spanish to other Spanish-speaking people in the office. Seriously. He's ticked off because I speak English in the office, even to other Spanish-speaking people.

Is that wrong? Why should I be forced to speak Spanish with someone just because we both speak the language? First of all, I can be a bit self-conscious about my Spanish. I've been here most of my life, so even though I consider myself fluent in Spanish, I recognize that I make a few mistakes, and I know for certain I have an American accent, so I tend to shy away from speaking Spanish to someone I don't know, for fear they'll make fun of me. And second of all, why is that wrong? If I know you, and I choose to speak Spanish to you, fine. But if I don't, should that be held against me? Does that make me a bad person? a person unworthy of free food?

I don't think so, but this guy obviously does. I won't lose any sleep over it, but I have to admit that it did bother me a bit. It just seems so idiotic, and it did sting a bit to be singled out in front of coworkers.

Am I wrong?

2006, we hardly knew ya. Can you believe the year is almost over? It seemed like just yesterday I was sitting on my couch, trying to come up with a name for this blog. Maria Farteria -- that's just stupid. But Maria Diarrhea? Pure genius.

Anyhoo, here's my list of the year's best:

Song: "SexyBack" -- Because, seriously, those other boys don't know how to act. Yeah.

Web site (besides this one, of course): YouTube -- Endless fun.

TV Show (tie): "Grey's Anatomy," "Survivor" -- I loved "Grey"'s for its watercooler-ness, and "Survivor" for introducing the world to Yul, the hottest ... castaway ... ever.

Movie: "An Inconvenient Truth" -- Al Gore and PowerPoints, whodathunk that would be the hottest pairing (pardon the pun) in 2006?

Book: "Wicked." Seriously, read this book. I can't wait to see the play. (Hint. Hint.)

Store: Border's, because they have Seattle's Best Coffee, which serves America's best hot chocolate. It's yum-oh.

Next week, find out my pics for the worst of 2006.

I can't believe it's almost Christmas and it's 52 degrees outside! It's just not right. I'm sorry, but I can't get into a holiday mood when it's so warm outside I don't have to wear a scarf or gloves. I just can't. It just doesn't seem holiday-ish.

I never thought I'd say this, but I hope it snows before Christmas. I hope I wake up on Christmas Eve to see at least two inches of snow. They call it "White Christmas" for a reason ...

My mom has a bird (name unknown - we just call him "the damn bird") that's about 7 years old. For about two of those years, the bird has been kept in the basement apartment, where my sister also resides.

My sister smokes over a pack a day. When she's home and on the computer, she's smoking pretty consistently.

And yet, somehow, the bird lives on.

The way I see it, this is proof that the warnings about secondhand smoke are a load of bunk. I mean, if SHS is so terribly, horribly unsafe, why is the bird still alive? I'm not saying smoking is good for you, or even that secondhand smoke isn't disgustingly annoying if you don't smoke (and sometimes even if you do), but if a little ol' bird can survive two years of nonstop SHS, can it really be so bad?

Oooh, I almost forgot the coolest thing. When we were driving back from Disney, we saw the space shuttle launch. It was so neat! Granted, we were pretty far away, so all we say was the vague outline of a rocket and this humongous flame out the back, but it was still pretty darn cool.

Well, I'm back from FLA. I had a great time, though it wasn't as warm as I thought and hoped it would be. On Friday, it was in the 50s! Now, I'm sorry, but when you go to Florida, you expect warmth, even in December.

Oh, ok, I won't complain. After all, I was in Florida. And I did have a fantastic time. I got there on Wednesday, and pretty much just vegged out and caught up with my friend Anita. On Thursday, we celebrated Anita's bday by getting massages and facials at a nearby spa. Sweet! On Friday, we vegged out some more, then drove to Disney on Friday night. We spent Saturday in the Magic Kingdom, then drove back Sunday morning. More vegging ensued, and I got home yesterday afternoon.

All in all, it was a really nice vacation -- got some rest, had lots o' fun, ate waaaay too much food (why do I always wind up saying that?).

If you're interested in seeing pics, click here.

I'm off to Florida tomorrow -- yippee! I'll be sure to say hi to Mickey and Goofy for you.

My Christmas wish list:

Tickets to "Wicked"
Pie storage container (so I can travel with my pies ... and no, that wasn't meant to sound dirty...)
Glass cake dome
Any iPod accessories -- I'd love one of those iPod radio/docking stations, in white. Oooh, and I'd really love an iPod remote, where I can control everything from the headphones ...
Any trivia board game, except Trivial Pursuit -- I've got pretty much every version of that one

Of course, if you're not sure, a gift card to Kohl's (not Target) will always work. See, I'm an easy person to shop for.

Now what are you waiting for? Get shopping!

I saw "An Inconvenient Truth" this weekend. A few observations:

1) Humans suck. We are killing the planet. This is especially true of Americans, who account for 30% of the world's waste! And there are really simple things we can do to turn this around. See www.climatecrisis.net for some ideas that won't kill you.

2) The media suck. The movie cited a study that looked at the number of articles in peer-reviewed journals that disproved global warming. The grand total? Zero. But the number of articles in consumer media that said global warming was made up? Over 200. I'm sure there's a really good reason for it, and that it's not just a byproduct of media conglomerates merging and controlling our news. Nooooo. That can't be.

3) Nerds get cuter as they age. Ok, so Al Gore wasn't exactly fugly when he was younger, but he's definitely always been a nerd. Same for Bill Gates -- he's not going to win any Sexiest Man Alive prizes, but he has grown into his nerdiness. I'm sure the gazillion dollars he's worth doesn't hurt, either.

4) It's got to be really frustrating to give the same speech over and over. I mean, doesn't Al every get tired of saying the same thing? There's got to be a time when he feels like going, "You know what, people? Just rent the damn video." It's also got to be frustrating to be so passionate about a topic and hear people say it's all bunk.

5) Documentaries have come a long way. Remember how boring they used to be? Ever since "Bowling for Columbine," they've really gotten entertaining. "Fahrenheit 911" was one of my faves, though "An Inconvenient Truth" and "Super Size Me" have jumped above it. "Spellbound" was also very good. I still haven't seen "March of the Penguins," though that's on my list. Any other good ones I should add to the list?

Folks, my heart has been broken. I just found out I can no longer shop at Target.

[Cue mad sobbing]

Let me explain.

I'm a union girl. I'm not actually in a union myself, but I'm a supporter of unions and laborers. Maybe it's because my dad was a union man. Or maybe just because unions support the regular working man, rather than big business. Either way, I have and always will be a union gal.

So I don't shop at Wal-Mart. Ever. No matter how much money I'd save. It's just not worth it to me to support a company that's anti-union. I don't eat at McDonald's anymore either -- though, to be honest, that has more to do with "Super Size Me" than the fact they're anti-labor. But still. They're anti-labor, and I don't eat there.

Issues are important to me. If a store is anti-labor, I won't shop there. It's my way of saying, "What you're doing is not ok." Yes, I'm only one person, and I'm sure my $17 won't mean a whole lot to them, but it means a lot to me.

So imagine my horror when I find out that Target has a policy that allows their pharmacists to refuse to fill out prescriptions for birth control for religious reasons.

It was a sad day, my friends. Sadder than the day I found out Brad really was involved with Angelina and it wasn't just a ruse so he could approach me without having all the world's media know about it.

Um, yeah, so anyway ... now I can no longer shop at Target, at least not until they amend their policy.

So when you send my Christmas gift, make sure the gift card's for another store.

Would you wear someone else's underwear? (Assuming it's clean, of course.)

My mom bought a bunch of underwear. She tried them, but didn't like the fit, so she was going to throw them out. She offered them to my sister, who wouldn't take them because my mom had worn them once. (She'd since washed them, of course.)

My sister says it's gross and wouldn't wear them. I say it's ok, because they've been washed and it's our mom.

I mean, when we shop, we try clothes on -- and god knows how many people have tried those on... Yes, I know this is slightly different. After all, it's our hoohahs we're talking about.

What do you think? Would you wear your mom's underwear, provided she'd washed it (and provided it's not, like, 40 sizes too big and covered in bunnies and flowers)?

So you know I love "Grey's Anatomy." I love everything about it. It's totally my fave show right now. But last night's show bothered me, and I can't get over it.

What has my panties all in a bunch? The whole "chicken and pig," "ham and eggs" thing, that's what.

Seriously, what was that all about? What does it even mean? Did you understand the saying and what it has to do with commitment?

It really bothered me. It did.

It's just that "Grey's" is such a smartly written show. The characters are flawed. Heck, even its main character is easy to hate (at least by me). I'm sure they could have come up with a better analogy than "ham and eggs." It just seemed like the writers were trying too hard to come up with another catchphrase.

Of course, this won't stop me from watching the show -- I'll still suck it up like Hasselhoff.

I went to see "Bodies" this weekend. Have you heard of this? It's an exhibition of real human bodies in various stages. The bodies were donated to science, and they've taken them and stripped them of their skin, etc., to show what the human body is really like.

I have to admit, I was nervous to go at first. I'm a bit squeamish, so I wasn't sure I'd be able to take being up close with real cadavers. But it was so well done, and so fascinating, that I wasn't really bothered much. Of course, my sister and I acted like 12-year-old girls and giggled at seeing their whatnots. Yeah, we need to grow up.

In addition to full bodies, the exhibit also featured individual organs, both healthy and diseased. So I was able to see what a thyroid looks like, and then what thyroid cancer looks like. It was pretty eye-opening (and, that part at least, a bit disturbing).

The exhibit travels to various cities (it leaves NYC in December), so if one comes to a city near you, I strongly recommend you check it out. If you Google their name, you can find more info. If you do wind up going, let me know what you think.

Well, despite a bad back and an even worse cold, I completed the breast cancer walk in Central Park this weekend. It was pretty amazing to see not just women, but men, kids, even dogs, walking for a cure. There were emotional times, like the cancer quilt and seeing women with "Survivor" t-shirts on, but all in all, it was a nice, leisurely walk through the park.

Thanks to all of you who donated. With your generosity, I was able to raise $485. Our team raised $1,700, $1,000 of which our company will match -- meaning we raised a total of $2,700!

So thanks again. Maybe you'll join the walk next year...

I blog, therefore I am.

Lately, I have not ammed.

I'm a bad blogger. Bad blogger. I know. But I've been so busy with work. You'll forgive me, yes? I'll blog again soon, I promise. Let's just pretend I'm on vacation. That might make the separation a little easier on both of us.

I'll definitely blog again in time to post how the breast cancer walk went, and how much I -- no, we -- raised.

Hang in there!

This year I'm participating in the American Cancer Society's Making Strides Against Breast Cancer walk.

Making Strides is a non-competitive walk that takes place in more than 100 cities across the country. There's no registration fee and no fundraising minimum, which means more people can participate.

I'm asking you to please support me with a donation of any amount. Whether it's $5 or $500, every bit truly does help.

Click here to visit my personal page and make a donation.

Thanks!

I went to a psychic this past weekend. I don't really believe in psychics. Well, it's not that I don't believe in them. I do believe that real psychic ability exists. I just don't believe in the legitimacy of the majority of those who do it as a career.

So anyway, I went to a "psychic" this weekend. I had been to her once before, and she was dead on with everything she said, so I was excited to go again and see what had changed, what to expect in the lovey-dovey department, etc. Guess what? She told me the same thing she did last time, even used the same language. And when I say it was the same, I mean the exact same. I was a bit disappointed. Not that I thought she had actual powers, but ... oh, who am I kidding, of course I did! She was so right about everything last time! She sucks, and now I hate her! Boo!

Talk about a letdown. Now I'll have to find another psychic. Just kidding ... I'm done with them. Though if John Edwards happened to knock on my door ...

fatorexic* (fat-uh-rek-sik)
adjective
a person suffering from a psychological disorder characterized by distorted self-image, in which the person believes she/he is thinner than she/he actually is.

We've all seen them: the women (and sometimes men) who dress completely inappropriately for their body type. You know, like the rather large woman who walks down your block in a cut-off T-shirt and short-shorts, or the portly man walking on the beach wearing a Speedo.

I don't know about you, but when I see someone in an outfit that's just completely, well, wrong, I ask myself, "What on Earth are they thinking?"

Is it that they just don't care what they look like -- good taste be damned, they're going to wear that short slip dress because it's just so cute? Or is it they think they're thinner than they really are?

Every once in a while, I'll look in the mirror and think, "I look good in this outfit." Then someone (usually a family member, of course) will tell me the outfit makes me look fat, or that the skirt is too short and makes my legs look too "meaty." Yet I think I look good in it.

I wonder if fatorexics go through the same thing. Do they look in the mirror and think, "Damn, this bra-less halter top really makes my size 44DD breasts look fabulous"? Or have they just resigned themselves to the fact that that's what they look like and that's what they're gonna wear, and if someone doesn't like it, too bad?

*Yes, I just made this up.

From the BBC:

U.S. Man Survives Chocolate Ordeal
A 21-year-old U.S. man ended up in the hospital after spending two hours trapped in a vat of chocolate, police in Wisconsin said on Friday. The man said he had climbed into the tank before becoming trapped waist-deep in chocolate, police chief Randy Berner told AP news agency. However, other reports suggest he was stirring the chocolate when he fell in. Rescue workers and staff at the Debelis Corporation used cocoa butter to thin out the chocolate and pull him free. "It was pretty thick. It was virtually like quicksand," Captain Berner said. "It's the first time I've ever heard of anything like this," he added. The worker said his ankles were sore after the incident, and he was taken to a local hospital where he is recovering. The accident involved dark chocolate.

I don't know what's funnier, the fact that they consider being stuck in a vat of chocolate an "ordeal" or that they felt the need to mention that it was dark chocolate.

I have 23 mosquito bites on my feet. That’s right, 23. Not on my body, just on my feet -- ankle down. I have no idea how I got them, but they itch like hell. I look diseased. I look gross. I look like my feet have the chicken pocks. I'd take a picture, but you might be eating and I don't wanna get sued for ruining your new outfit.

Worst part is, I can't get a pedicure until they go away. The horror!

So I looked my dream up online, and this is what it said:

"All sources pretty well agree that excrement (whether human or animal) in a dream represents money, wealth, profits or tangible value and is a lucky omen pertaining to material gain."

Considering it was a pork loin, I'm gonna be rollin' in it! And by "it," I mean money, not the pork loin.

I know this falls under the realm of TMI (waaaay TMI, I'm sure), but I had to share.

I had a dream last night that my poop was a pork loin. Yes, a pork loin. There was not much more to the dream. I basically just recall that it was a pork loin, and that I was in awe of the size and that it didn't hurt.

See, I told you it was TMI.

Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to mee-ee
Happy birthday to me

As promised, pics from Spain: click here.

It's heaven on earth. But I do have one gripe: The "tradition" of telling me how fat I am continues! Me, carrying pastries onto the bus home: "Hi. How are you?" Random Spanish person: "Don't eat those! You don't need them." Loverly.

Or how about "Have you gained weight?" "A couple of pounds." "Really, that's it?"

Or, two old ladies commenting on my weight: "She's not fat, she just has big hips." "And at least she's proportionate. She's got meat everywhere." Ok, she was trying to be nice, so I'll cut her some slack.

Honestly, I've been called fat so many times I've lost count. Last year, when I was really thin, they still called me fat, so I can't win. Sigh. I'm going to go eat some ice cream.

I'm baaaaack.

I'll have pictures shortly. In the meantime, let me share this story with you. It's not from my trip, per se, but it is entertaining nonetheless.

In my second week of vacation, I get a call from my sister at 9 a.m. Spain time (3 a.m. here in the States). At first, I thought she had gotten into another car accident. (She tends to have them while our mom's on vacation.) Thankfully, that wasn't the case, though the story is still a bit disturbing.

She was calling because she had just gotten home after a few days at a work conference, and had gone to her basement apartment to find poop and pee on her bed. Yes, poop ... and pee ... on ... her ... bed. In the words of my brother after my sister called him, "What the?"

Turns out a stray cat had somehow gotten into the basement, but couldn't get back out, so the poor thing was stuck, with no food, no water and most likely scared out of its mind for about a week. Horrible!

The cat tried to eat our bird, which, thankfully, survived to tell (or chirp) the tale.

In the end, my brother came over and the two of them were able to get the cat to leave the house. They wanted to feed it before it went, but the cat took off -- no surprise there. I'm sure it was itching the get the heck out of there.

Well, that's the story. What are the chances? I tell you, this kind of stuff only happens to the Diarrhea family.

Anyway, I'll have pics of the trip soon. No exciting stories, I'm afraid. Just did a lot of beaching, eating, sleeping and a bit of shopping. All in all, a nice, relaxing vacation ... just what I needed.

Well, my friends, I am off to the Iberian Peninsula. I shall report back if anything major happens, like hooking up with a gorgeous European hottie. In other words, we'll catch up when I return.

Happy July! :-)

So we're having a walking contest at work. There are 15 teams of 10 people, each of whom wear a pedometer all day. The team to walk the farthest distance (the goal is from NY to LA) wins.

I've had mine on for three days and walked 9.83 miles so far. Not too shabby, eh? I plan on really kicking arse in Spain -- which shouldn't be too hard, considering I won't have a car...

Now I just have to fight the urge to just sit on the couch and move the pedometer up and down with my hand. Sure would be a lot easier than actually moving.

Woo hoo! "Grey's Anatomy" and "24" were the top nominees for this year's Emmys. Nice to see the academy's taste is as great as mine. Now, if only we could get Lauren Graham ("Gilmore Girls") and Kristen Bell ("Veronica Mars") a nom, the world would be a better place.

Ah well, we can't have it all, can we? And I'm already asking for Italy to get creamed in the World Cup finals, so I'm not going to push my luck. Hee hee.

Oh. My. Gawd.

I cannot believe Portugal beat England. And Brazil lost to France. Holy f'ing Christmas!

Of course, I'm rooting for Portugal, seeing as how Spain royally f'ed it up with their premature elimination. Suckers.

Oh, well. Goooo Portugal.

You can do it if you try
V-I-C-T-O-R-Y
Go Portugal
Yeah, yeah
Go Portugal

One more week until vacation! Yippee!

Transportation from NJ to NYC: $12

Crappy lunch at TGI Friday's: $32

Two tickets to "Beauty & the Beast" on Broadway: $116

Seeing niece get more excited about the Sour Patch Kids she ate on the train ride home than the whole freakin' play: Priceless

Ok, so one day last week, I walked into the bathroom at work, and on the floor of one of the stalls was a roach trap with the largest cockroach in it I had ever seen. I'm telling you, you could have slapped a saddle on this baby and ridden it home.

I was talking to the building manager about it, and she regaled me with a story about a friend of hers who also works in the building. This "friend" (uh-huh) was sitting on the toilet bowl when she felt something on her leg. She looks down to see this roach crawling on her leg. It was hiding under the seat!

I know you want me to stop now, but this is the best part:

So the "friend" totally freaks out, jumps off the bowl, hits her head on the stall door and passes out! So they had to call the paramedics, who went into the bathroom to help her out. Now, I know you've got the picture in your head, so I don't need to point out that she was using the bathroom when it happened, right? I don't need to mention that her underwear was probably down and she was mid-whatever? Ok, good, because I was a little uncomfortable about mentioning that.

And yes, I know this totally sounds like something that would happen to me, but it's not me, I swear. You know I'd soooo tell you. I have no shame.

Three more weeks until Spain ... yippee!

This is gonna hurt. I know it is. It hurts me to write it. But when you gotta tell the truth, you gotta tell the truth.

That new Paris Hilton song, "Stars are Blind"? I love it. Can't get it out of my head.

I know. It's Paris Hilton. Singing.

I can’t help it. I heart that song. It's pure poetry:

Even though the gods are crazy
Even though the stars are blind
If you show me real love baby
I'll show you mine

I can make you nice and naughty
Be the devil and angel too
Got a heart and soul and body
Let's see what this love can do
Baby I'm perfect for you

I mean, yeah, it's a bit simple, but it's the summer, and if beach books can be read, why can't beach songs be heard?

And yes, the song is overproduced and manipulated, but that’s a plus ... really! We can all take comfort in the fact that we never have to hear her sing it live.

See, there's always a silver lining ... sometimes you just gotta really stretch for it.

I went home to LI this weekend, and on the way I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few items. When I got home, I realized one of those sticky price tags had made its way onto my shirt. So for approximately 17 minutes, I was worth $2.19. Things are looking up.

I was on the train home yesterday when a word popped into my head: apoplexy. So I looked it up:

ap-o-plex-y: a sudden impairment of neurological function, especially resulting from a cerebral hemorrhage; a stroke.

So, of course, now I'm convinced it's going to happen to me. Because you know I'm a little psychic, right? I keep worrying so much about whether or not this'll happen that I'll probably cause it to happen.

And I'm just letting you know so I can say I knew it would.

I was in kickboxing class last night, and I was hitting the punching bag, going to town on it, really giving it my all. The instructor, who was on the other side of the bag holding it, said, "Any time you want, go ahead and hit it as hard as you can." I said, "I thought I was hitting it hard." He just laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

So you know my "No TV During Summer" rule? That lasted a whole ... let's see, when did I post it? ... um, nine hours.

Wow. That's a record.

Ok, so I'm amending my rule. For some reason, it was a lot easier to do in previous years, when I actually had a life.

So now, I can still watch TV, but only if it's a repeat, i.e., not something I can get hooked on. I will not, for example, be watching "Rock Star" or "Big Brother: All Stars," no matter how much I really, really, really want to. I can, however, catch up on "NCIS," since I missed the show when it was opposite "American Idol." And I can also see repeats of "CSI," "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" and all those other shows that will make me too scared to sleep at night.

Another change to the rule is that I can't watch the shows live, only if I TiVo them. This is a weird distinction to make, yes, but it makes sense in my head, so just go with it.

The last amendment is that I can't watch I've seen before. So I can't watch a "CSI" episode for the 16th time. Or that "Law & Order: CI" show I already now the ending to but am compelled to watch anyway. If I've seen it before, I can't see it again.

Oh, and I can't watch shows that are on daily, like "Oprah" or "The Daily Show." This last one kills me, but it's too much of a time commitment and the whole point of the rule is to cut down on that.

So anyway, I gotta go. There's a Summer Preview issue of TV Guide with my name on it.

Well, today is the official start of my "No TV During Summer" rule.

Whose stupid idea was this anyway? I mean, what am I supposed to do for three months? If I had a life, I wouldn't be watching so much TV that I'd have to create a rule not to watch it. Sheesh.

Ok, so nearly a month of that will be spent in Spain, but that still leaves me with two months of nothing to do. Assuming I count from 6-11 p.m. for weekdays, and 10 a.m. to 11 p.m. on weekends, that's 51 hours a week with no TV.

I'll continue taking tennis and yoga lessons, and I start kickboxing again next week. And if you count eating time, long walks and a movie here and there, we're down to about 24 hours. Then there's shopping. We all know I can spend a full day shopping, but I'm not sure my checkbook can take it, so let's just say five hours of shopping a week. Plus you gotta count the blogging -- you can't leave that off.

So that leaves me with ... let's see ... hold on ... carry the 1 ... yep, that leaves me with about 18 hours a week. Sigh. I really thought I'd be a lot further ahead on the whole time thing. I mean, what's left to do that would take up 18 hours every week? I've covered all the important things -- eating, shopping. What else could there be to possibly do?

Stupid rule. I hate rules.

Here's what I don't get: How could you steal your colleague's lunch? I mean, I could maybe understand it if it were an office where you're just visiting for the day, or if you're never going to see the people again. But your co-workers? You have to face them every day.

I love Morningstar Farms chik patties. To me, they taste better than actual chicken. I also love that they're freezable, so they make great lunches. I usually put the patty on an English muffin with a slice of Swiss cheese and a side of green peppers or carrots. It's a delicious, satisfying lunch.

So imagine my disappointment when I went to the freezer today and did not find my box of patties.

Never mind that I had to nosh on just an English muffin with Swiss cheese. What most disappoints me is that it had to be someone in this office, someone who wishes me a good morning or a good night. And you know it's gonna drive me nuts, right? Was it you? Or was it you? Or maybe it was you?

Yes, I can always buy another lunch at the cafeteria downstairs. Now if I could just do the same with new co-workers...

I recently did a count of how many television shows I regularly watch: 18. Seriously. I watch 18 television programs every week:

Prison Break
24
CSI: Miami
American Idol (or NCIS, when Idol is off the air)
The Unit
The Closer
Lost
CSI: NY
Survivor
CSI
Without a Trace
Close to Home
Numbers (alternatively, Battlestar Galactica)
Monk
Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Grey's Anatomy
The Daily Show
Oprah

These aren't shows I watch every now and then -- I watch them regularly. They're all TiVo'd, in case I can't watch them live. And if you count the fact that "The Daily Show" and "Oprah" are on four and five times a week, respectively, that makes 25 hours of television per week. One full day per week. Thanks goodness my "No TV during summer" rule will be starting soon.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to make money off my TV-watching ...

How much do I love "Grey's Anatomy"?

Last night's season finale was amazing. I pretty much cried from 10:15 to 11:00.

My favorite moments:

· When Alex comforts Izzie after Denny died. He just scooped her up and held her. Sigh.
· When Christina tells Burke that she just did her best "supportive girlfriend" and he ruined it by asking about Denny.
· When Christina finally wises up and goes to Burke and holds his hand.
· When George apologizes to Meredith for sleeping with her even though he knew she didn't feel the same way about him as he did about her.
· When the dog is dying, and Meredith and Derek are both holding him, and Derek touches her hand.
· When Derek tells Meredith, "Do you think I want to be looking at you, instead of my wife?"
· When Callie walks in on Derek and Meredith. That look on her face was priceless.
· The very last moment, when Derek says, "Meredith," and tilts his head, to signal her to go with him.

Oh, and how amazing is Patrick Dempsey? If he doesn't win an Emmy, there is no justice in this world. He is just so unbelievably fantastic. It's a testament to his talent that you almost don't notice how awful an actress Ellen Pompeo is as Meredith. That's how good he is.

I don't know if I'll be able to wait four months for a new episode...

I hate TV network executives. I hate 'em. I hate 'em. I hate 'em.

Why do they have to pit my favorite shows against each other? Why should I have to pick between the "Grey's Anatomy" finale and "24"? Or between the "Lost" and "American Idol" finales?

Now, I'm sure all you the-glass-is-half-full types will say that this just means that there's so much good TV nowadays that there's no choice but to pit good shows against other good shows. And I agree ... somewhat. For every "Lost," there's a "War at Home." For each "Grey's Anatomy," there's a "Rodney." And for every "American Idol," there's an "American Idol."

And even if there were so many good shows on TV that networks had no choice but to air them opposite each other, do the finales have to be on the same night?

So I'll opt for the "Grey's Anatomy" finale over "24," and I'll definitely be watching "Lost," not "American Idol." But a girl shouldn't have to choose.

I know I haven't posted in a while, but nothing is going on. Seriously ... absolutely nothing. My life is so boring right now. I mean, I haven't even had a fight with a priest lately. Totally boring.

Let's hope things pick up soon. I mean, who'll write my blog if I'm in a coma?

I had my first tennis lesson yesterday. It was fun, but it's much harder than I thought. Just learning how to grip the handle was hard. I actually split open the skin on one of my knuckles. Hey, I'm a delicate flower, what can I say?

But the instructor did say I have good form. (Ahem.) I hope I learn enough in the next five weeks to be able to play with another person and not totally embarrass myself. I totally want to be one of those people who goes, "Hey, you wanna play a little tennis?" Yeah, I know, I'm really easy to please. (Spread it around.)

Odds & Ends:

My letter to the editor was posted. I hope this is the end of that whole fiasco with Father Orsini. I wish I could take part in the Day Without Immigrants march on Monday, May 1, but there's no way I can take off work. But I'll be there in spirit.

I do plan on attending Rally to Stop Genocide, taking place in DC on Sunday. The crisis in Darfur is just heartbreaking. Go to www.savedarfur.org/rally/ to find out more about what's going on and how you can make a difference. Think of it this way: If you could go back in time and do something about the Holocaust, wouldn't you? Well, this is another Holocaust. Hundreds of thousands of people have died, over 2 million have been displaced due to violence, and 3.5 million are hungry. We can't just sit by and do nothing.

On a much lighter note, I'm glad Kellie Pickler was voted off "American Idol" last night. The dumb blonde shtick was getting old. My next pick to go: Paris. I know she can sing, but she annoys me. I hope Elliott takes the whole thing. I know I say this every year, but I think this is my last year of watching "AI." It's getting a bit boring, isn't it? I sort of can't wait until summer, so I can start my "No TV during summer" rule." The weather's getting so nice out -- it's great to have an excuse not to stay home and watch TV...

I love this:

When Dan found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father died, he decided he needed a woman to enjoy it with. So one evening, he went to a singles bar, where he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her natural beauty took his breath away.

"I may look like just an ordinary man," he said as he walked up to her, "but in just a week or two, my father will die, and I'll inherit $20 million."

Impressed, the woman went home with him that evening and, three days later, became his stepmother.

Women are so much smarter than men...

Well, the illustrious Father Orsini responded to my response regarding his letter to the editor. He wrote:

"As regards to [Maria Diarrhea's] objection to my letter, obviously she does not understand the nuances of the English language. My salient point was that pedestrian and vehicle violations of the law are not understood by any ethnic group who do not [sic] understand English.

"If any ethnic group wants to climb the ladder of success, learning and understanding English is absolutely necessary. Far from being prejudicial, I know as a first generation Italian-American that my immigrant parents learned to read and understand English. Our native language was used only at home because it helped us to preserve our history and culture.

"I fight bias wherever it is found. I have an excellent rapport with the Hispanic community at Our Lady of Assumption Church. [Maria Diarrhea] should be asking why the rest of the parishes in Bayonne do not accommodate the beautiful Hispanic community.

"[Maria Diarrhea's] letter was extremely prejudicial and does not speak for the Hispanic community in Bayonne. She dared to judge me and my intentions. [Maria Diarrhea] should be ashamed of her obvious prejudices."

Folks, I couldn't make this stuff up.

I am so livid! I was going to be the bigger person and not respond, but I can't just sit back. Can't and won't. So I'm shooting back another letter -- my last one, regardless of whether or not he writes another letter and what it says about me then. I think this says everything I want to say:

"One final response to Father Orsini's letter ["Refutes Accusation of Anti-Hispanic Bias," April 15], to correct some inaccuracies in his statements:

"I never said Father Orsini had an anti-Hispanic bias. I never even mentioned Hispanics in my letter. I merely stated that it was prejudicial to make a connection between the language one speaks and how observant he/she is of traffic rules. There are many people in this community who do not speak English, and they come from different nations, backgrounds and cultures. To single out the Hispanic community speaks volumes about Father Orsini's true beliefs.

"As does his comment that I do not understand the nuances of the English language. Why, because of my surname? I graduated with a degree in English and communications, and am a news director for an international news organization. The English language is my trade. The "nuances" in his letter did not escape me because they did not exist. There was nothing nuanced about his comments -- his prejudice was clear as day.

"Father Orsini and I do agree on one point, however -- that those who live in this country do themselves a disservice by not learning English. Perhaps a good starting point would be to do away with foreign-language masses, like the one Father Orsini gave in Italian this past Sunday. After all wouldn't speaking Italian only at home help his parishioners to "preserve [their] history and culture"?

"It is obvious that Father Orsini and I are not in agreement on this issue, and perhaps we never will be. My hope is that he, and others like him, will at least try to look past a person's origin, culture, and language and see the value and contribution each person brings to this community."

So last night was so much fun! There was an open bar (from which I, of course, did not partake), and actresses and Hottie McHot-Hot actors (also of which, sadly, I did not partake) from "Days of Our Lives," "One Life to Live" and "Guiding Light" (I guess those are the three shows that are filmed in New York?).

I took a few pictures, which I'll post soon, but I didn't want to go overboard and not be invited to any future events. As if.

Ooh, and I also got a nice goody bag, containing some beauty stuff, which I probably won't use (because, really, how do you improve on this?) and a gift certificate for a free facial at an NYC spa, which I definitely will use.

All in all, it was a pleasant night out mingling with some B-list stars and getting some free swag. Sweet.

Check this out: I helped one of our clients at work with a project last week, and it turns out she organizes the pre-Daytime Emmy party for the soap stars. She sent me two invites to the party!

So tomorrow night, I will be mingling with stars from "General Hospital," "Days of Our Lives," "Young and the Restless"... I just wished I watched any of these shows. I won't have any idea who these people are! I hope I can fake it...

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Afternoon

A few posts back, I wrote about my brother's neighbor, who called to complain that my brother had left his dog outside in the rain.

Well, yesterday, I went over his house for Easter dinner. I brought the Easter basket; his neighbor brought a quaalude.

Here's what happened: A little before we got there, the neighbor took a pill, wrapped some meat around it, and threw it onto the deck in my brother's backyard. I'm not kidding! Luna had gone over and was eating the meat, though, thankfully, the pill had slipped out and was on the floor of the deck, so Luna didn't actually eat the pill. My brother and his wife called the police. They're going to test the pill to see what it actually was, and will follow up with the neighbor.

Can you believe that? I know a barking dog is annoying, but trying to drug the dog? And what if it was my nephew who walked over and decided to eat it? He's four -- he'll eat anything!

You know how they say you can't pick your family? Well, you can't pick your neighbors either. Some people need some serious help.

Have you ever thought you were psychic? Did you ever have one of those moments where you think of someone, and then they show up? Or when you get a "déjà vu" moment for something that didn't actually happen but that you envisioned?

I once had a psychic tell me that I had the gift but that I wouldn't acknowledge it, even subconsciously, and that I needed to learn to trust my intuition.

Whether she was BS'ing me or not, I have had those moments that totally freak me out. Case in point:

I was driving home from Long Island last Sunday and I decided to take a different route, which brought me near the home of an old friend with whom I'd lost contact. As I drove by the area, I thought about how sad it was that I'd never see him again because he'd moved away and I didn't know where he was now. With as many times as I've moved over the last few years, we were never able to keep up.

Later that day, I was at Stop & Shop with my mom. I was bagging items at the checkout when a woman approached. It was my friend's wife! Turns out they've moved back to the area. She had already shopped earlier that day, but had left her wallet at the store and had to go back for it. Had she not left her wallet there, we would have never seen each other. What are the chances?

There are also other times when I "see" things happen that actually do happen later down the line. Like when I "see" myself bumping into an old friend, and I do, or when I "see" something in a store window and then see the same thing later when shopping.

Whatever you call that -- whether that has anything to do with psychic power or is merely a coincidence -- it's enough to really freak me out.

Now, if I could just find a way to "see" by some winning lottery numbers...

I was watching Oprah earlier this week. Her guest was Pink ("Stupid Girls"), who was there to discuss the "marginalization of women," Oprah's phrase for the exploitation and dumbing down of women.

Said Oprah: "We are bombarded with titillating images of women degraded and on display -- scantily clad, overtly objectified. There is no escaping it -- women are being exploited. It's bad enough that women are allowing themselves to be used this way, but even worse, young girls are imitating them."

Just this morning, I was pointing out to a co-worker that Kellie Pickler on "American Idol" is a good example of this. She's got the dumb act down pat, and it makes her unthreatening and, therefore, sexy and popular. As another -- male -- co-worker said, "I could probably talk her into doing anything." Nice. Is this what we're teaching young girls, that the goal is to be liked by men whether or not they respect you?

Granted, Kellie brings it on herself by playing dumb (and I'm assuming she's playing, and isn't really that stupid), but when men see women portrayed as ditzes -- hello, Jessica Simpson -- on a regular basis, what's to discourage them from thinking that way about women in general?

Another example: I went to a bar the other day. There was a group of young girls there -- about 22, 23 years old -- and they were all dancing with each other in a sexually provocative way, giggling throughout. It was obvious they weren't gay ... this is just what they've seen on MTV's "Real World" and spring break coverage. That's where they've learned how to act.

Men, of course, can't be counted on to do anything about this issue -- they probably think it's good for them. But is it really? What can possibly be exciting about a life where your partner doesn't have a thought of their own, or doesn't have any beliefs to stand by? In the same way they wouldn't want, say, a video game to only have one level, wouldn't they want the person they're spending their life with to have more than one layer?

But, as with many women's issues, the "fault" lies not with men, but with ourselves. What kind of message are we sending our daughters, nieces, etc., when we obsess over our weight? Or when we hold back on voicing an opinion because it might be unpopular? We've equipped girls with the tools to get an education and a career. Now let's provide them with the tools to become who they are, and not some glamorized, overly sexualized version of who we think they should be.

Well, my letter to the editor was published this week in the local paper. I wonder if Father Orsini will write another letter responding to me in next week's paper. Then I'll have to write another the following week. And then he'll write another the week after that. And then, oh, heck, this could go on forever...

On another subject, I started yoga class last night. (And no, I didn't fart in this one.) It was harder than I imagined. I'd dabbled in yoga before, but mostly at gyms, rather than at a class taught by a yogi.

This class is all about asanas, or poses. We only learned a couple last night, like the "corpse pose," but already I feel better. I just have to remember to not worry about what I look like while I'm doing the poses. I had the misfortune of sitting next to the mirror (which, given that the walls are fully mirrored, would be hard not to do), and I couldn't help but glancing over to see which roll of fat was exposed. Sigh.

Anyhoo, I'm going home this weekend (yay!). And only one more week to Easter (double yay!). I cannot wait to eat some chocolate. I'm going to eat chocolate for breakfast, lunch and dinner on Easter Sunday. I'm sure I'll be sick for days, but I don't care!

A few days ago, I went to the mall with my mom. It was a particular busy day at the mall, and there weren't a whole lot of available parking spots. So we drove around a bit, and then we saw a guy pulling out. So I put my blinker on, and waited for him to leave. Then, this stupid biatch came barreling in and took the spot! I was so pissed. So I rolled down the window and yelled "Stupid biatch!" (minus the "a")

I know, I know ... that was not the most mature thing to do. I was just so mad! What gives her the right to take my spot?

My mother was mortified. Now, I never curse in front of my mom, but I couldn't help it. It just blurted out. Of course, then we got all nervous, like, what if they come after us, or I get to my car to find four flat tires? I'm really a chickensh*t at heart.

So I'll try to keep my anger in check next time, but it's so frustrating. I hate it when people just do what they want, with no consideration for others. Must be because they don't read or speak English.

I'd love to say that I had such a great, jam-packed weekend that I have a ton to write about. Alas, I spent most of the weekend sick as a dog.

The weekend started off pretty well -- I dropped off my car for maintenance, then went to the doctor to get test results (everything's perfect), then got a facial at a new day spa. At some point between the facial and driving home, I hit a wall (figuratively, not literally). It was like "Bam!" My stomach felt like it had a brick in it. So I took it easy for the rest of the weekend and hoped it would go away with rest and light food. I woke up at around 4:30 this morning with a stomachache again, so I guess it hasn't gone away.

Anyway, all this is a long way of saying I won't be posting much over the next couple of days because I won't be doing much... But if anything exciting happens while I'm sitting on my couch, watching TV, I'll be sure to make the effort to share.

Hope everyone had a better weekend than I did!

I read my local paper every week, because I like to see what's going on in my town. I especially like to read the Letters to the Editor, because it's interesting to see what issues members of my community are thinking about.

In this week's letters to the editor was the following item:

To the editor:
I drive only in [city] because of a medical disability. I was born and raise in [city] and I can't help but notice the drastic changes that have taken place in my beloved city.
Demographically, our population has changed. I notice that a great deal of our residents either do not speak or read English. That is probably the reason why a majority of our traffic rules, which were passed to ensure our safety, are not followed by so many drivers and pedestrians.
Jaywalking has become epidemic. "Cross at the green and not in between" is a rule that has fallen into disuse. Double-parking is commonplace. I have often seen cars and other vehicles double-parked and no drivers behind the steering wheels. Crossing over main avenues at streets lacking traffic signal lights is a game of jeopardy because the view of oncoming traffic along our main thoroughfares is blocked by vans, trucks and SUVs.
Our public parking lots are being converted and will demand outrageous fees to park. I would like to know why these changes took place without a referendum of our residents. Why is the Parking Authority exercising absolute power?
It seems that our [city] residents have become so affluent that every household owns and operates three to four vehicles. I remember when a family owned one vehicle or no vehicle at all. Traffic rules were rarely disregarded. But today, anything goes. This is not progress, but a symbol of the general deterioration of the moral foundation of our society.
Father Giuseppe Orsini

Needless to say, I was not a happy camper. First, I have no idea what language has to do with jaywalking. And what does crossing in between streets have to do with the Parking Authority and public parking lots?

So, I wrote my own little letter to the editor. I'm sending it in today, so I hope it will be published either next week or the one after. Here's my response:

To the editor:
I was disheartened to read Father Giuseppe Orsini's letter to the editor from March 29.
In his letter, Father Orsini writes: "I notice that a great deal of our residents either do not speak or read English. That is probably the reason why a majority of our traffic rules ... are not followed by so many drivers and pedestrians. Jaywalking has become an epidemic."
One would hope that Father Orsini, as a man of the cloth, would not spew such prejudicial and spurious beliefs. There is no connection between language and etiquette or proper behavior.
I am a first-generation American, having immigrated here as a child. I speak fluent English, and am a contributing member of society. Have I ever jaywalked? Yes. Does it have anything to do with the language I speak? Absolutely not. To connect one thing with the other is a blatant attempt to justify his prejudicial beliefs.
As the national spokesperson for an Italian-American anti-bias foundation, Father Orsini should know better. It's comments like his that continue the kind of bias and intolerance he supposedly opposes.

I really hope they post it. I'll let you know.

La la la la la la la ... la ... la.

I went to Atlantic City this weekend, and I have a confession to make: I totally became a "lurker."

About halfway through the day, I noticed that there was this girl who seemed to always happen to sit near me. And she kept winning. So when she would get up, I'd take over her machine. Sometimes I'd be pretty open about it; other times, I'd pretend to walk away, and then would turn around and come back. And it worked! Up until then, I was losing everything. Then it turned around. I won about $300, which isn't my personal best, but considering I was playing quarter slots, not too shabby.

I know this probably breaks some sort of casino ethics (as if), but I couldn't help it. She didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't say anything. It's not like I was taking her luck, because she was done with the machines.

So that's me, the lurker. Hey, we all got our issues.

James Blunt asked me to marry him! Ok, that's not true, but I got your attention, right?

The concert last night was amazing. My guest was on time, so we were in the front row. I was thisclose to James all night. He gave me some knowing glances all evening, as if to say, "I don't know who you are but I'm going to find a way to track you down so we can be together forever." Or something like that. He even shook my hand on the way out. I'm never washing my hand again. Ever. (My apologies to those of you who will be coming into contact with me in the future.)

I took lots of pics, and even some video, and I hope to post both soon. Do we make a nice couple? You be the judge. (And if you say something other than "Yes!!" with two exclamation points, you are no longer welcome to be around me and my soon-to-be-smelly hand.)

I won tickets to a private concert with James Blunt! It's taking place Thursday at the China Club in Manhattan, the same place where I went to see INXS.

Now let's just hope that my guest is going to be on time this time, and that I can be in the front row. Because how is James going to ask me to marry him if he doesn't see me?

I'll report back after the concert, hopefully with pics of James and me in a loving embrace. :-)

My brother has a dog, a black lab named Luna, who is positively insane. She's nuts, she is. But that's neither here nor there.

Last week, my brother's wife found a note at their door from the city health inspector, who had stopped by while they weren't home. The note asked them to call the health office the next day.

Turns out, a few weeks ago, my sister-in-law had gone to the dentist and had left Luna in the backyard -- the fenced-in backyard. While my sister was at the dentist, it started raining. Apparently, one of her neighbors called City Hall to complain that the dog had been left out in the rain.

The dog, people. The dog. Someone actually complained because the dog was left out in the rain.

Look, I love dogs just as much as the next person. I do. I'm scared of most of them, but I love them nonetheless. And I think Luna is just peachy-keen. I'm mush around her. But she's a dog. Where was the neighbor when homeless people were out in the rain? Did she call anyone to complain about that? What about all the kids that go hungry? Or live in foster homes for their entire childhood because they can't get adopted? How about them? Is "my neighbor left their dog out in the rain" really the cause you're going to go with? Really?

Everyone should just mind their own damn business. Luna is well fed, well taken care of, has a warm home to sleep in, and is loved by her family. She's much better off than millions of people, in this country alone. So let's say it's ok to leave a dog out in the rain for a couple of hours, shall we?

So I gave up chocolate for Lent. I figured the benefits would be twofold: I would fulfill my Catholic obligations; and I would stop eating chocolate, which would help me lose weight.

Here's the problem: Since I can't eat chocolate, I'm eating everything else! Normally, after lunch, I'd have a tiny piece of chocolate -- just enough to fulfill my desire. Now that I can't eat chocolate, I go to the vending machine and buy, say, Twizzlers -- but that doesn't quite do it. So then I go downstairs and buy Reese's Pieces, but that doesn't sate my desire for chocolate. So then I have some pretzels ... You get the picture. I'm going to wind up gaining weight by not eating chocolate!

I hope God's reading this. I need this "sacrifice" to be acknowledged when (if!) I reach the pearly gates...

Wow! "Crash" won for best movie! Didn't see that coming. Well I thought there might be an upset, but I was crossing my fingers for "Brokeback." Truth is, I'd be happy with whatever movie won -- all five were great picks (though I only saw a couple of them).

Jon Stewart -- shame he's already married. He is one hot dude. I think his intelligence and humor make him so attractive, right? It's certainly not the Robin Williamsesque body hair.

And George Clooney ... Who does self-deprecation better than he does? He's not married, and, frankly, I'd be fine if he were all Sasquatchy (that's a new word -- I'm copyrighting it). He is hot, hot, hot.

I loved the bits from Ben Stiller, and Will Ferrell and Steve Carrell. And the opening sequence? Four words: Hi-la-ri-ous.

All in all, it was a very enjoyable show. Now, if they could just ply the actors with some booze like they do at the Golden Globes, that would be a real party ...

I went to Stop & Shop yesterday after work. When I got home, my mother was standing at the door, waiting.

"You're late."

"I left a note this morning saying that I was going to Stop & Shop after work."

"I know. You were taking a long time."

"It's 6:15."

"Yeah."

Sigh. I need to sell my house ... soon.

I recently read an article about a study regarding caffeine as a sexual stimulant:

"[Researchers] gave 108 female rats a moderate dose of caffeine before a mating test to determine if the caffeine had any effect on female mating behavior. They found that administration of caffeine shortened the amount of time it took the females to return to the males after receiving an ejaculation, suggesting that the females were more motivated to be with the male rats."

The article went on to speculate that caffeine exposure could also affect sexual motivation in other female mammals, such as humans.

You know what's sad? There are 108 female rats that are getting more action than I am... Hey, if they ever want to test this theory out on humans, I'm sooo there.

Ok, so I was, like, sooooo wrong. Ace is a hottie.

Ace + Maria Diarrhea = total, unadulterated bliss.

I totally heart him.

So I just started watching this season's "American Idol." I would have watched it sooner, but I refuse to watch the episodes in which they give the no-talent, fame-seeking idiots any camera time. I hate that all they have to do is be awful, and they get what they want. (Man, I am getting old and cranky...)

So anyway, I watched last night, as the 12 female contestants belted out their first songs for viewers to judge. Some were good; some were bad. But the bad ones were all -- all -- gorgeous. How did they make it through? Why weren't any of the awful ones ugly? Would they have gotten through had they been? Why is, say, Becky O'Donohue in the running? She can't sing! Oh, right, she's gorgeous. She's also a former Maxim cover girl and "Fear Factor" contestant. I smell a reality-TV-addicted rat.

And what a double standard for the men. With the exception of Chris Daughtry, who has replaced Bo Bice as the hottest "American Idol" ever, they're not exactly eye candy. (I take issue with those who say Ace Young is cute. Yeah, if, like, you totally, like, live in the O.C.)

My favorites so far: Chris (natch) and Paris Bennett, who I totally want to adopt so I can just have her sing for me all the time. She is so cute!

Who're you rooting for?

Ok, so on my new favorite show, "Grey's Anatomy," George, the lovable schlub, is totally in love with Meredith, the main character, who's also the object of McDreamy's affection.

And I'm thinking, why? Sure, Meredith is pretty. Sure, she's smart -- she's going to be a doctor. But she's also self-involved, annoying and whiny. So why do George and McDreamy love her so? At first, George's crush was cute. But after seeing how she treated him -- barely acknowledging his presence -- I don't get it.

I know they're just characters, but I think it speaks to the larger issue -- what the hell men are thinking. Why are some men so attracted to some women, even though the woman may be unworthy of that attraction? An old friend of mine, "Cindy," is a nice girl. She's reasonably attractive, not unintelligent, with a good job. She is also one of the most irritatingly annoying people you'll ever meet. She never stops talking -- and it's always about herself. She's completely self-involved. Yet she gets boyfriend after boyfriend. When the relationship ends, it's because she broke it off, not them. Then they inevitable try to win her back. What's up with that? Why all this interest in her? What does she have that drives these men nuts?

Men have always been difficult to understand, but when you see a good guy, like George, going gaga over a woman, like Meredith, who doesn't deserve him, you gotta wonder what's going on. And what's a normal gal gotta do to get some of that action?

So I wanted to post a picture of the 22 inches (!) of snowfall we got this weekend, but I'm having trouble with the photo, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Just picture me covered in white stuff (snow, not cocaine ... you're thinking of last year), shoveling the sidewalk around a house that's not even mine, getting into arguments with neighbors for something that was, well, my fault, then walking around all day in a bad mood because (1) I was cold, (2) I was sick, and (3) I had no chocolate, then apologizing to said neighbor, then nearly slipping and cracking my head open on the ice that's formed because it's been cold since it snowed, which we're all bitching about because, for the first time in the history of the world, it's been a mild one with no snow, but we're all secretly happy because we get to finally use the cute little black snow boots we bought on sale at Kohl's (ok, that's just me), then realizing this sentence has gone one for 140 words (143 if you count the numbers) and that breaks all the grammar rules I hold near and dear to my heart.

Yeah, picture that.

If you're not a "Grey's Anatomy" fan, well, you're cra-zee.

My favorite line in last night's episode -- and of any television program since ... ever:

"George, stop looking at my va-jay-jay"
-- Bailey to George, after he comments on how much hair the baby she's delivering has.

Please, please, please ... get thee to Blockbuster and rent the first season on DVD. Then, when you're totally hooked, wait with baited breath for season two to come out. Then, buy yourself a TiVo so you never miss an episode. It's that good, people. It's that good.

And if you are already a fan, check out the Grey's Anatomy blog: http://www.greyswriters.com. Shonda Rhimes is my hero.

Please join me in prayer:

Dear Lord,

I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, what with war, poverty, hunger, AIDS, etc., but I have a *really* important request: I'd really like to win WPLJ's "Win a Valentine's Dinner with J.D. Fortune" contest.

Now, I don't ask for much, right? This would be such a simple request to grant. Poof! I'm having dinner with J.D. Double-poof! I'm carrying his baby. Er, that second one sorta goes against the whole no-sex-before-marriage thing, huh? Ok scratch that.

Maybe this is something you could take care of on your lunch hour, or on a cigarette break. If it helps, you don't even have to add anything extra -- like make me not break out in zits that night, or anything like that.

Anyway, thank you for your time. Oh, and if you could just let me know of your decision sooner, rather than later, that would be great. Thanks.

Amen.

"Fear of serious injury alone cannot justify oppression of free speech and assembly. Men feared witches and burnt women. It is the function of speech to free men from the bondage of irrational fears."
--Supreme Court Justice Louis D. Brandeis (1856-1941)

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11227487/

My niece, who's in the second grade, goes to public school. The other day, there was a flyer sent home with her usual stack of dead trees. The flyer was from an evangelical Christian group, offering bible classes at the school after school hours.

So my brother and I debated (because that's what we do). On one side (my brother's), this is a violation of church-state separation. There's no gray area -- it's wrong, and needs to be stopped. On the other side (mine), as long as the class is not publicly funded and is voluntary, it's ok. I'm as big a proponent of church-state separation as anyone, but if it's not harmful, then why stop it just for the sake of stopping it, just because we can?

But then my sister-in-law brought up a good question: Who are the people holding the classes? Are they licensed? Have their backgrounds been checked? Have they been fingerprinted, as teachers are? After all, they're going to have access to a school full of children. Can they be trusted?

So while my sister-in-law was going to bring it to the PTO's attention, my brother was going to "go have a chat" with the school principal. I'm taking donations now. What's a typical bail amount these days?

I recently read an article about genital plastic surgery, and how it's one of the industry's fastest-growing surgeries.

Really? I don’t have enough body-image issues that I now have to worry about how my vagina looks? And since when do men care? Are they really going to be sitting at the bar, having a couple of drinks, and break out with "Dude, I hear she has a really nice labia"?

People got too much time and money on their hands. Seriously.

This is a prime example of why I don't like my new office:

I was in the lunchroom making my lunch -- a nice, regular-size salad, with lettuce, olives, and slices of ham and cheese, with some low-fat ranch dressing. There were about six other people in the room at the time.

From across the room, some idiot yells out, "That's a mighty big salad you got there. You gonna eat all that?"

Seriously? Is that necessary? Why are you: 1) looking at my lunch, and 2) commenting on it. Do I even know you? Do I even want to know you? Sort of, and no.

Another instance: My cell phone rings. A passerby announces, rather loudly, "Your cell phone is ringing." No shit, Sherlock. You're kidding me? That's what that noise is. I thought it was my biological clock going off.

Arrrrrrghhhhh.

Only someone from Spain can get away with this:

You know you're from Spain if...

Your mother or grandmother has Maria in her name.
Your father or grandfather is called Manuel (Manolo), Jose, Antonio or Juan.
You decorate your walls with plates.
Your house is a mini church with just as may statues of saints and Jesus as your church itself.
You're 25 and still living with your parents. (Extra points if you're married and living with your spouse in your parents' house.)
You baptize your child and send him to catechism, even though you might never go to church except for weddings and funerals.
You park on the sidewalk when necessary, even asking the person standing there to please move away.
You have a mother or grandmother who wears black.
You spend your holidays in Portugal instead of in Spain because it is cheaper.
Your parents own, like, nine houses in Spain but complain about the lack of money in the States.
Going to Spain involves buying gifts for all 500 members of your family.
You go crazy for soccer.
You have grape vines in your backyard.
You earned over $10,000 for your first communion.
A barbeque does not consist of burgers on the grill. Can you say "sardines"?
A wooden spoon equals discipline, or if you ever had to duck so you wouldn't get hit with flying shoes.
Your parents anticipate that you'll marry your first long-term boyfriend/girlfriend.
Your 15-year-old brother is allowed to have two girls sleep over, but your 19-year-old sister can't go out past 7 p.m.
You think that 2 a.m. is too early to go to bed and that 11 a.m. is too early to get out of bed.
Your grandmother tells you look sick because you are too thin. (I wish! -- MD)
Your parents make you eat three servings of dinner at each sitting, otherwise they think you don't like the cooking.
You have ever used your nose or lips to point something out.
You've ever dropped food on the floor, picked it up, ate it after saying, "Lo que no mata engorda."
You've been hit by a zapatilla.
People tell you to stop screaming when you're really just talking.
Whenever you're angry, you spout off a torrent of "coño", "mierda" and "carajo."
Your mother yells at the top of her lungs to call you to dinner, and you're in the next room.
If you just can't imagine anyone not liking Spanish food.
If you've been in a two-passenger car with over seven people in it, with a person shouting, "Entrar, que caben mas!"
If you have at least 30 cousins.
If you start clapping when your plane lands on the runway.
If you say crazy things like, "Me cago en dios."
You can't leave a party without taking home a plate of food.
Your grandma makes you put on slippers because walking around barefooted will make you get sick.
You need that piece of cake before you leave the party.
You go to a birthday party and your friends that couldn't go are asking you to bring them back some food.
Your mom/tia/abuelita has a ceramic elephant on the living room table.

Que via España!

Went to another NJYP event on Saturday. This time, it was an "unofficial" event, and it was so much better than the first one.

For starters, everyone was super-nice. I felt as if I'd known them longer than just having met them. They also agreed that some of the events are meat markets, especially the ones in Hoboken. I'll probably stay away from those in the future.

The event was at Fratelli's Bistro in Bayonne, which just opened up. The place is really nice! There are two bars, a dance floor and a live band on weekends. It's a good crowd, too.

But I got a bone to pick: I take the Light Rail to work every morning, and there are some mighty-fine Hotty McHottertons on that train. So where are they? They obviously live in Bayonne, since that's where the Light Rail starts and where I catch it. So where are these guys hanging out? How come I never see these Hotty McHottertons around town? I gotta start scoping this out. It's like the racecar has started but the track is closed. Not good, people.

On another note, I still haven't sold my house. Sigh. If you know anyone in the market for a really cute house in Suffolk County, send 'em my way!

I went to my first NJYP mixer last night. Three words: hor-ri-ble.

First of all, I was the first one there (natch), and it turns out the evening's host is a journalist who uses my company's service. So we talked about the service for about 15 minutes before the next person showed up. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't necessarily want to talk about work when I'm not at work. There are so many more interesting topics to talk about -- like root canals, colonoscopies, third-world hunger.

Second of all, it wasn't so much a networking social as it was a meat market. Yes, any time you put women and men together in the same place, especially a bar, that will happen. But I was hoping for something more along friendship lines, introductions to other people. We were pretty much left on our own. Hello? If I didn't have trouble going up to people and introducing myself to them, I wouldn't need the NJYP, okay?

Third, the bartender stole my money. Ok, it was only $4, but still ... I bought a diet coke, and left the change next to my purse, and after a couple of minutes, the change was gone. Now, I'm not a bad tipper; I always leave at least 20 percent. But 400 percent?!? Um, no. I don't care if you are really cute.

But I am not giving up hope. I will march on. There's another gathering tomorrow in Bayonne, so I'm going to go anyway. It'll probably suck, but hey, let's be realistic here -- what else have I got to do?

Two book recommendations:

"The Kite Runner," Khaled Hosseini's novel about a young Afghan boy, Amir, as he faces the challenges that confront him on the path to manhood.

"Night," Elie Wiesel's memoir of his experiences during the Holocaust. It's the current Oprah's Book Club pick.

Up next: "Case Histories" by Kate Atkinson, picked as one of the year's best by Stephen King in his Entertainment Weekly column.

I saw "Brokeback Mountain" this weekend -- one of the most beautiful, touching, profound, heartbreaking movies I have ever seen, and probably will likely ever see.

Y'all know what the movie is about, so I won't recap. I will say that it's one of those movies that leaves an impact long after you see it.

I've always been fairly liberal, and have never understood why homosexuality is so looked-down on. I mean, it's hard enough to find love, so when people do, what does it matter what their sexual orientation is? But I defy those who are against it to see this movie and not be moved. It truly is one of the most beautiful love stories on film. The fact that it's between two men doesn't change that.

I thought Heath Ledger was excellent as "Ennis." But Jake Gyllenhaal was absolutely amazing as "Jack," who is more comfortable with his sexuality and more willing to live out in the open. It's a damn shame that they couldn't.

Whichever way you feel about the issue, I implore you to see the movie. If it doesn't change your opinion, it will at least humanize it.

Things are looking up. Ok, maybe it's more like sideways, but it's better than down, right?

So I joined New Jersey Young Professionals. I know, I know -- I'm not young. But I am professional (I think), and they didn't have a New Jersey Semi-Young, Sort-of-Old Professionals group, so...

Anyhoo, I posted a note on the message board, saying I was back in NJ after a few years away, and was interested in making new connections. The next day, I had about 25 e-mails from other members, welcoming me to the group and encouraging me to go to the events.

So I'm going to my first event next week -- a mixer in Hoboken. I'm going alone, so it should be interesting. I'm sure I'll spend about five minutes avoiding all eye contact, because that's what I do, and then walk out. Hey, but at least I'm going.

This year, it's all about making myself do things I'm not fully comfortable doing. Up next: milking a cow. Just kidding!

It's the end of my second week in Jersey ... Here's what I did this week:

Monday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to sleep.
Tuesday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to sleep.
Wednesday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to sleep.
Thursday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to Target (yay!), came home again, went to sleep.

Frankly, I am bored out of my gourd. I know I went through this stage when I moved to Long Island five years ago. There was nothing for me to do yet, I didn't really know anyone, all I did is shop. But it's so frustrating! I know that, in the grand scheme, I should shut up, cuz I got it pretty good. But ugh, I am going to fall into a coma if I don't come up with something to do!

Things I'm thinking about: piano lessons, cooking lessons, going back to finish my Master's, finding a local community theater. All sound good, but I can't get motivated to actually start. I'm stuck in one long-ass rut. I need someone to slap me and say, "Snap out of it!" (Any takers? The line forms to your right ...)

I mean, I'm just plum excited I've got an appointment to highlight my hair next Saturday. Yipee! Something different to do! It's a sad day in Maria-land, my friends, when the most excitement I've got lined up is to sit in a chair while some supposedly straight guy puts foils and chemicals in my hair.

That's it. I'm doing something about it. I'm going to start researching classes right now. If not right now, then definitely later, or this weekend, or early next week. Yeah, definitely by the end of next week...

Well, it's been my first full week in New Jersey. If I had written this yesterday afternoon, I'd have two words: "This sucks." But one small event changed everything -- my company's holiday party last night. (Yes, it's a holiday party after the holidays. If it means we get our bonus, I'll deal.)

I caught up with some old friends from whom I'd drifted apart. And I met some new people that look promising for friendship. And I got assurances from my old pals that they would actually make me leave my house, and not just sit around watching TV, which I'm wont to do. There was also a Hotty McHotterton, but that's all I'll say for now.

So bring on 2006! I'm ready for it ... now.