It's my birthday in a few days. That's right, I'm turning the big 3-0. Ok, that's a lie. I'm just a teensy bit older than that. Fine, I'll cop to it ... I'm turning 37.

I know they say that age is just a number, and that you're only as old as you feel (which I hope isn't true, because I feel about 80!), but I'm having trouble with this one. For those of you who are older, I know you're probably thinking you'd give your left teat to be 37 again. But this is the oldest I've ever been, so forgive me my pity party.

Ugh, I do feel quite old. And now that my mom's moved to Spain, I feel even older. My sister's only 24, so you can imagine how that is. If I get asked "Are you her mom?" one more time ...

Anyway, I'm easy to shop for, so don't worry about what to get me. Just make it sparkly and you'll be fine. :-)

Really interesting article:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20010696/site/newsweek/

I haven't heard this angle before.

Unfortunately, the video has been removed from YouTube. I wonder why. I would have loved to see it ...

Well, I finished Harry. I won't give anything away, don't worry. Let me just say that it was a masterpiece, the best in the series, and that's saying.

If you've read it, drop me a note via e-mail, so as not to ruin it for anyone who hasn't finished it yet.

I don't know what I'll do now that the series is over. Oh, sure, I can find another book to read, but it won't be the same. Harry, I'll miss you -- the book, not Harry. I'm not saying Harry dies, or that he doesn't. I'm not saying anything. :-)

I'm about a third of the way into the new "Harry Potter" book. Don't worry -- I'm not going to say a word about it.

But with all the media storm surrounding the new book, I'm torn. On one hand, I want to read it as slowly as possible, and savor all the fine details. On the other hand, I want to read it as quickly as possible so as not to come across something that inadvertently -- or inadvertently on purpose -- gives anything away. What to do?

I've taken the day off tomorrow so I can dedicate my day to reading the book. Crazy, I know, but it's the only compromise I could think of. This way, I can take my time reading it, but I don't have to worry about spoilers.

So if you call or e-mail me tomorrow, know that I won't get back to you until I've finished my Harry-time. Not that I don't trust you...

On a semi-related note, RFSJ turned me onto a quiz to determine who your HP alter ego is. I was certain I'd be Hermione, but I turned out to be Remus Lupin, the werewolf, instead. Figures. I do tend to be a bit hairy. Check out the quiz here and tell me who your HP alter ego is. Just know that if it's Snape, well, I can't be your friend anymore. :-)

I'm back from DC. I didn't get arrested, but I did manage to wipe myself out. Neets and I went everywhere -- on foot. I will be paying for this for days...

DC is a small-ish area, when compared to cities like New York or San Francisco, but there's a heck of a lot to see. And we saw nearly all of it. Oh, did we.



On Friday night, we went to see the White House (just from the outside, don't worry), the Lincoln Memorial, Korean War Veterans Memorial, Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall, and the Washington Monument, which looks like one ginormous phallic symbol.



In fact, Neets and I kept referring to it as the GP, or "giant penis." In one view, actually, you'll notice the Capitol Dome to one side. All it needed was another round building on the other side ... oh, nevermind. I have a dirty mind.



Anyway, on Saturday, we went to the Holocaust Museum, which was heartbreaking. The things we humans do to each other. The evil is unimaginable. Looking back, I would have skipped that museum, although I do believe we owe it to those who died to acknowledge what happened there. But it's terribly heartbreaking.



After that, we needed to lighten things up a bit, so we went to the Smithsonian National Air & Space Museum. That was totally cool. In addition to having all manner of rocketships and planes and whatnot, it was also the temporary home of some of the exhibits from the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, which is closed for renovations. We saw Dorothy's red shoes from "The Wizard of Oz," Mister Rogers' sweater, John McClain's wife-beater from "Die Hard" and a whole host of other neat stuff -- oh, and Kermit! We saw Kermit! So adorable.

I've got tons of pics -- 85 of them. It's a lot to go through, I know, but if you want to get a sense of what DC's like, you can find them here.

So I'm off to our nation's capital this weekend. Pray I don't run into Dubya, because I really have no desire to spend the weekend in jail.

My friend Neets will be there, too. We plan on hitting the Holocaust Museum, the International Spy Museum (how cool will that be?!) and the Air & Space Museum. We also plan on making out with a couple of senators. But not Republicans. There are still some lines I draw.

Anyway, you know I'll blog about it upon my return. And hopefully I'll have some pics, too. I don't know if I can take a lot of pics, due to security issues, but I'll try. And hey, if I do get arrested, I can count on y'all to come bail me out, right? :-)

Well, I didn't do anything stupid (yet), but I do have some good news: I got the all clear!

I'm one of the 6 percent for which the cancer did not recur. Now I just have to get tested again in two years, and then I'm in the clear.

Thanks again to all of you for all your kind notes. It's been a rough few days, but now I can go back to being the same, crazy ol' Maria Diarrhea. :-)

Thanks soooo much to everyone for your kind comments and e-mails. I'm doing great. I had a couple of days of nonstop nausea, but I'm feeling back to normal now. (Well, as normal as I ever was, anyway.) Hey, at least now I might finally lose some weight!

Tomorrow's the last day. I get the actual test and then I'm sent home. If they find any leftover tissue, all they have to do is give me a radiation pill and that's it. Zippo. Done. Granted, I shouldn't have any human contact for a day or so, since I'll be radioactive, but really, it's not like anyone ever wants to hang out with me anyway, so no big loss there. LOL. Hey, why aren't you laughing? That was a joke. I mean, people want to hang out with me all the time. Right? Right?!?

Anyway, thanks again. It really does mean a lot. And I promise that, as of next week, I'll go back to posting fun stuff. I'll make sure to do something stupid soon, don't worry. :-)

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer -- which, if you've gotta have cancer, is the one you wanna go with. It's slow-moving and highly treatable. If you catch it early enough, they just remove your thyroid, and you take a pill every morning for the rest of your life. Mine was caught early enough, and I had my thyroid (and a couple of lymph nodes) removed. I was given the all-clear two years ago.

A bit prematurely, it turns out.

You see, my doctor -- who must have gotten his degree at Wal-M*rt University -- "forgot" (his actual words) to actually run the necessary tests to ensure it didn't spread. Instead, he just did what all great doctors do: he assumed. Nice, eh?

So here I am, eight years later, and I have to get tested for what I should have been tested years ago. But I'm doing it with a new doctor, one that actually seems to have a clue.

This week, I'm getting a Total Body Scan. From what I understand, it's pretty much like an MRI. It's just a giant X-ray that checks to see if any of the cancerous tissue remains. It's a four-day process, which is a pain, but I guess not as much of a pain as having cancer, so I really shouldn't be complaining.

Today, Day 1, I got a thyrogen injection. Previously, if I wanted to get the TBS, I would have to go off my medication for two weeks. Seeing as how the medication takes the place of the thyroid function, this would, effectively, put me in a coma. Not good. But through the miracle of modern medicine, thyrogen "tricks" my body into thinking I've been off the medication, without me actually having to. Now that's good.

Tomorrow, I have to get another injection, after which I have to get blood drawn. Then Wednesday, I have to go to the hospital to take a radioactive iodine pill (which would probably prevent me from blogging, lest I throw the computer into a radiation tailspin). Then, on Thursday, I get the actual TBS. I think they tell me the results that same day. What a novel idea.

The doctor told me I could experience headaches and nausea these next couple of days, two side effects of the thyrogen. Of course, me being me, I'm not nauseous -- I'm hungry. That's a big surprise. Is there anything that would make me not be hungry?

Anyhoo, I'll let y'all know how it goes. If you have a chance, and wouldn't mind, please say a little prayer. Oh, and while you're at it, if you ask for me to win the lottery, I promise to share. :-)

With Independence Day (the day, not the movie) upon us, it made me think back to when I became an American citizen. I went with my dad, whose grasp of the English language was, to put it nicely, a little shaky. Sadly, he did better on the test than I did. And I was in college at this point!

Thank goodness for the guy who gave me the test. He totally gave me the answers. How many Supreme Court justices are there? I dunno ... 7? No? Um, how about 15? No? Doh!

I wonder how many "Americans" could pass the test. I say that if you're going to complain about immigrants in this country, you should be forced to take the test. No passy, no bitchy.

How would you do? Give it a shot: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19552808/

It's harder than it looks! :-)

In my recent posting about my decision to consider adopting a child, I wrote that I have no desire whatsoever to be pregnant or give birth.

Well, I'll tell you what. If I were on the fence about it, "Knocked Up" would have kicked that urge right out of me.

Holy mother of God. Why would anyone subject themselves to that?!?

Ok, yes, I know, it's a beautiful thing, it's all worth it, yada yada yada. But it hurts! A lot! Why do you think they invented epidurals? Not because labor is a walk in the park, folks. And heck, if the painkiller hurts that much, how much must the thing the painkiller is supposed to help with hurt? Sheesh.

And people do this more than once?

They say tattoos are the same way, too. Now that I get. I want another one, like, right now. But I didn't need a freakin' epidural to get my tattoo.

Listen, all you women who have more than one kid, please tell me how you did it, because I can't even imagine going through it once. I know the end result is worth it, but seriously, mucus plugs? bloody shows? I can barely even stand to write that.

You know what, don't tell me. You keep those details between you and your ob/gyn, and I vow to never ever complain about a stupid headache again. Deal? :-)

I've tried not to get into politics on this blog, because I truly believe everyone is entitled to their opinion, even if it is wrong. ;-)

But I just have to say this one thing, and then I'll drop it:

I hate this administration. I hate this administration. I hate this administration.

I. Hate. This. Administration.

Hate. Hate. Hate. Administration. Administration. Administration. I. I. I.

Yo ódio esta administración.

La ódio.

Yo.

Eo ódio ista administração.

I hate this administration.

Going to a Fourth of July BBQ and need something yummy to bring? Trust me when I say you can't go wrong with my Corn & Black Bean Salsa.

Because it's a cold dish, it's perfect with BBQ'd food, and it's really easy to make in the summer months. I've made it a couple of times for work, and everyone raved about it.

Now, it has cilantro in it, which is an acquired taste, but I have to tell you, even though I'm not a fan of cilantro, it just goes perfectly with the dish. I've tried to make it without cilantro and it's just not the same. So trust me, use the cilantro it calls for. You can try half if you want, just don't go without it completely.

You can also check out the My Favorite Recipes link on the right, to see my other fave dishes. And hey, you know they're easy, because I'm making them. :-)

For the last couple of weeks, I've had this crazy desire to have a baby. I know! Insane, huh? I've never been the one who wants or needs to be a mom. Even as my friends around me were having babies, I was thanking my lucky stars I could wake up late on weekends, or didn't have to worry about paying for someone else's college education. My plan has always been to retire at 55 and enjoy the rest of my life, dammit.

But now ... well, I just don't know if it's the clock ticking or what, but I can actually see myself having a kid. Heck, I'm up early on weekends anyway. And it's not like I go out and party. And I love, love, love my niece and nephew more than I could ever imagine loving another human being. Granted, I also really enjoy when their parents come to pick them up and take them home, but hey, I didn't say I was perfect.

But there's this part of me that feels like, by wanting kids, I'm turning into a cliche -- you know, the independent woman who realizes too late that she wasn't truly fulfilled until she became a mom. There's a part of me that says "Yes, I do want to be a mom," but then the other part gives her the smackdown. "Come on," she says, "You're just buying into the ideal! You just think you want to be a mom because that's what everyone's telling you that's what you want. Wake up and smell the dirty diapers!" It's so confusing...

Here's the thing, though: I definitely, without a doubt, absolutely, positively do not want to be pregnant. I've heard it really hurts. I don't like pain. No, thanks. I've thought about adopting, but it's really expensive, and I'm sure the single-parent thing would work against me. If there were a pregnant teenager that wanted to give her baby up, I'd totally take it, but really, this is 2007, so that's not likely to happen.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just being hormonal. I mean, who am I kidding? I would make a crappy mom. "Not now, kid. I'm watching CSI!" Then again, I'd be a lot better than some of the moms out there. See why I'm confused?

Man, I totally wish I were rich so I could adopt a baby and hire a nanny to take care of it for most of the day, and then just trot it out when it was convenient for me. That would be awesome ... well, except for the baby. I'm sure it would suck for the baby. Ok, scratch that.

OMG, guys, I totally knew that was a bad thing. Maybe I wouldn't make such a bad mom after all!

So last night was the Project A.L.S. fundraising dinner. Thanks to my friend Diego's generosity, I was able to schmooze with some of the celebs in attendance.

Of course, as should be expected, I totally made a fool of myself. Don't believe me? Ask Diego: "You totally made a fool of yourself." (Ok, so he didn't actually say this, but I know he's thinking it ...)

We were there for about an hour, and it was totally boring so we decided to skedaddle and grab some grub at a Thai restaurant. (It was my first time eating Thai; it was good.) Anyway, so we were on our way out when we stopped by the press area so Diego could say hello to one of the actresses, whom he happened to know. While in the press area, I turn and see a tiny little woman standing next to me. So I say, "Hi." Then I realize it's Rachel Dratch. "RACHEL DRATCH! Oh my god. Diego, it's RACHEL DRATCH! I'm such a big fan. I've seen everything you've done, like 'King of Queens' and ... [dead silence] ... um, so, do you want to take a picture of me?" Sigh. Diego came to my rescue: "How about I take a picture of the two of you?" Thank goodness for Diego. I'm such a nerd ...

... which, if it weren't apparent already, will be shortly. You see, after I took the picture with Rachel Dratch, I see Aasif Mandvi, whom I love from "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart." I TiVo the show every night, so I see him on it all the time. I think he's a pisser. Anyway, I see him walking towards us, so I go, "AASIF MANDVI!" (By the way, their names are in all caps because I couldn't help screaming their names at them, as if they had forgotten who they were ... or were deaf.) "Diego, it's AASIF MANDVI! I'm such a big fan of yours from 'The Daily Show.' I mean, I'm not from 'The Daily Show' -- you are. But you know that. What I mean is I'm a fan of your work from 'The Daily Show.' Yeah, Ok, so, do you want to take a picture of me?" I kid you not. Again, thank goodness for Diego, who quickly corrected me, and Aasif agreed to take the picture. At that moment, though, the camera batteries died. But Aasif was so nice; he told me to replace the batteries (thank goodness I had brought spares) and that he was going to grab a bite to eat, and to call him over when I was ready. And lo and behold, he came over when I called him over. He totally came right over with a mouth full of food and posed for a pic with me. What a nice guy.

Then there was Richard Kind (picture above, with moi), or as I called him, "RICHARD KIND!" You know what's coming next: "Diego, this is RICHARD KIND!" I'm stupid. Thankfully, though, I did not ask Richard Kind to take a picture of me. I got it right. Crisis averted.

So I had gotten a few pictures. My job was done. We could go. As we were walking down the block, I saw "The Daily Show"'s Rob Riggle, on his way to the dinner. Sigh. Do I have to say it? Oh, alright. "ROB RIGGLE!" He smiles, waves, keeps on walking (smart man). I say to Diego, "Oh, I wanted to take a picture with him." Well, I must have been talking quite loudly, because we looked back and saw him walking back our way, ready to pose for a picture. How about that?

I have to tell you, these folks were so super-nice, especially given the fact I acted like a lunatic. I mean, seriously, they could have called the cops on me. I was acting that crazy. Thankfully, they saw me for what I am, just a loser. But I'm a loser with pictures! So click here to show me it was not all in vain.

Well, I've decided to stop blogging for the Huffington Post.

After my latest column, in which I said Isaiah Washington should not have been fired from "Grey's Anatomy" for the use of a gay slur towards a colleague, I got a ton of comments, some of which were hurtful -- which is somewhat ironic, given the nature of the column. I decided I just don't have it in me. Apparently, my ego is more fragile than I had original anticipated.

Anyway, it was fun while it lasted. And I learned something new about myself: I don't take criticism well. You probably already knew that, though. :-)

Oh, but look at the bright side. That just means more time for me to blog here. See, there's a silver lining after all.

David graduated pre-K today. Awwwwww. What a proud auntie I am.

And yes, I know I've had a bunch of kid stuff up lately, with birthdays and graduations and all, but it should be done for a while. Now I can get back to living my life ... Oh, who am I kidding? I got nothin'. Oooh, wait, that's not true: On Monday, I'm going to a benefit dinner with a bunch of celebs. Maybe I'll marry one. Maybe. I have to see how I feel that day. Riiiiiiight.

Anyway, until then, entertain yourselves with these pics from the graduation: Ooh, click me! Click me!

Did I not say there would be more cuteness? Claudia celebrated her 9th birthday with a harbor cruise around New York. Lucky kid. All I got were some bellbottoms and a paisley shirt.

To see more pics, click here and here.

My second Huffington Post column is up. Click here to read the brilliance.

David turned 5 yesterday. How cute is this child? Don't you just want to eat him up?

More pics here.

Next week's Claudia's birthday, so get ready for more cuteness.

My first blog post is up at the Huffington Post!

It's a short piece to introduce myself. I have to admit, it is quite a thrill to see my name in print -- or, more accurately, on the screen.

You can read the piece here.

And don't worry, I won't forget you ... right away. :-)

A single male co-worker of mine was wearing what appeared to be a wedding ring, so I asked him if he had gotten married. He replied that he had gotten engaged. When I asked about the ring, he said it was an engagement ring. He had bought his fiancé one, and he thought he should have one, too.

Seriously? It's not enough that men don't have to shave if they don't want to, don't get cramps once a month, don't have to worry about drunk 60-year-old men hitting on them when they're just trying to have a drink with a friend? Now they get a ring, too?

Then again, maybe it's a good thing. You see a ring on a guy's finger, you know he's out of bounds. No time-wasting there. Move along; nothing to see here.

I dunno, though. It still strikes me as sort of odd. There are some things that should just be ours. I still don't like the idea of men getting facials and mani-pedis -- not because it's "feminine," but because guys have it so easy already. Why do they need to relax even more? Come on!

Next thing you know, there will be bridal showers for guys. And we all know how I feel about bridal showers...

I have a confession to make. I've hidden it until now because ... well, you'll know why when you read it.

Sigh. Here I go.

I have a secret crush on Dick Van Dyke.

Aaaaah, I've said it!

I love, love, loooove Dick Van Dyke. I never saw "The Dick Van Dyke Show," at least not during its original run -- I'm not quite that old -- but there was a time that a day wouldn't go by that I wouldn't watch "Diagnosis Murder."

So imagine my delight when I turn on "Night at the Museum" and find that glorious, gray-haired, perpetually lovable face on the screen. It's Dr. Mark Sloan! (And no, not "Grey's Anatomy" man-whore Mark Sloan. He only wishes he was as lovable as the original!)

Well, anyway, I really liked the movie -- it goes on the list as one of my faves. Then again, I can't really be objective about it, can I? My biggest critique with the movie was that there wasn't enough Dick in it. (Get your head out of the gutter.) Ben Stiller is cute and all, and he played his part perfectly, but he's no Dick Van Dyke. Then again, not many men are. In fact, I can only think of one.

Yes, Dick, I'm talking 'bout you. Call me.

I'm baaaaack. Florida was awesome.

Ok, I'll be honest, I've been back for a few days, but it's just been crazy busy and I haven't had a chance to write. And to be even more honest, I don't even really have that much to blog about. I did have a great time in Florida, but it was uneventful ... thankfully! I was really looking forward to just hanging out with my friend Neets, and that's really all we did. Ok, we did squeeze some shopping in ... two days' worth, actually ... but hey, it's me. What'd you expect?

We did also watch a couple of movies. One was "Borat." Oh ... my ... gosh. That movie was hysterical and horrifying all at once. Seriously, there were some scenes we had to watch in fast-forward because we wanted to see what happened but couldn't bear to listen. I would list some specific scenes, but it's pretty much the entire movie. If you saw it, you know exactly what I mean. We also watched "Starsky & Hutch," which I hadn't seen before but Neets had. Pretty funny, in a stupid-funny kind of way. If there's nothing else to rent, go ahead and get this. Do it. Do it.

Oh, and we watched a marathon of "How Clean is Your House?" This is my new favorite show ... ever. Basically, these two British cleaning ladies go to people's houses and clean them. Sounds boring, but it's so great, because a) the houses they go to are completely disgusting, and not just in my OCD opinion -- they really are uninhabitable; b) one of the women, Kim, can't not smell things. I mean, there could be this pillow cover that's covered in an inch-think pile of yellow whatever, and she knows she'll be totally grossed out if she smells it, but she can't not smell it, and so she does, and then we get to view the hysterical facial expressions; c) the other woman, Aggie, does all these neat scientific tests to see how much bacteria there is in the house. She'll swab a surface, and then tell the people living there just why they're always so itchy or why their asthma isn't getting any better. It's totally gross, and totally great; d) their accents. Only the Brits can get away with making insults sounds so nice.

Other than that, we pretty much just sat by the pool and lounged about. It was the perfect, relaxing break. And now back to reality. Sigh.

I know what you're thinking: Who's that foxy lady?

It's me! I figured it was time to update my pic. This one's a bit more recent -- my hair's longer, darker. I'm not quite as tan. I've aged a few years.

So now, when you close your eyes and dream of me, the image will be more accurate. :-)

Big news, big news: I'm going to blog for The Huffington Post! I know!

Beginning the end of May, I'm going to write about pop culture, entertainment and the media. Of course, I won't forget about you guys, my loyal fans. I'll be sure to give you all the URL for the blog once it's up.

Oh, and if you ever have any ideas for posts, please do pass along. I'm sure I'll constantly be on the lookout for stories. So if you see anything in the news that strikes you as odd or curious, or an issue that hasn't been covered to death in other places, drop me a note.

Woo hoo! :-)

I went to a bridal shower yesterday. Ugh. Is there anything worse than a bridal shower? First of all, it puts such pressure on us happy, er, I mean unmarried, gals. Second, it's totally cheesy. And third, it's really just one big gift-giving extravaganza, isn't it?

And you know, I've gone to so many of these over the years -- bridal showers, weddings, baby showers. I've spent so much money on these things, and I'll never get any of that back.

So I've decided that when I turn 40 -- which, is a looong, looong way away, of course (bite that tongue) -- I'm going to have a huge birthday party, and I'm going to register for gifts. And if anyone thinks that's tacky, just consider it my non-wedding wedding, ok? I mean, why should we single gals always be the ones to lose out? Why can't I furnish my home with gifts from others? I would totally love this KitchenAid mixer. Why should I have to spend $50,000 on a wedding to get it?

So keep an eye out for that invitation. And if you're not sure what to give me, remember: cash goes with everything.

I'm soooo moving to Mauritania:

"In Mauritania, to make a girl big and plump, 'gavage' -- a borrowed French word from the practice of fattening of geese for foie gras -- starts early. Obesity has long been the ideal of beauty, signaling a family's wealth in a land repeatedly wracked by drought.

"Many women turn to a more scientific method of weight gain, using foreign-made appetite-inducing pills."

Hah! Amateurs. I don't need no stinking pills. Man, I'd be a queen in Mauritania.

They say abstinence is good for the soul. No, I'm not talking about that kind of abstinence, necessarily, but just abstaining from anything, for a set period of time.

Like giving up chocolate for Lent. It's not easy, but it's satisfying, because it's a challenge, and once it's over and you can finally eat chocolate, it's really, really, really good.

So I've decided that, every month, I'm going to give up something, anything. I've done chocolate, so I won't be going there again. (Plus, it tastes really, really, really good.) I'll probably start with scratch-off lottery tickets next month. Good lord, those things suck me in. It's only $1 here, $2 there, but it quickly adds up to 50 bucks a month, or more, and that money really could be better used in other ways.

I'll still do my annual no-TV-for-summer thing, but I'll need something else. Any ideas? And don't say caffeine ... unless you want some really, really nasty blog postings. :-)

Amy Winehouse.

If you haven't heard of this British singer, do yourself a favor and check her out. My current fave is "Rehab": "They tried to make me to go to rehab, but I said no, no, no."

Ok, so it's not exactly relatable (at least not to me), but once you hear it, you can't get it out of your head. Trust me. Have a listen, and let me know what you think.

I hope everyone had a happy Easter/Passover! I finally had chocolate! And some yummy chocolate, at that. I think I'm going to give up something else next year, like scratch-off tickets. They're so terribly addictive.

Ooh, I saw "Blades of Glory" this weekend. Very funny. I love Will Ferrell in pretty much anything (I'm sure I'm one of three people who thought "A Night at the Roxbury" was freakin' hysterical), so I'm a bit biased, but I did think this was very funny. There are some instant-classic lines here: "I made these leather diaper bags for Faith Hill." WTF?!?

The only thing I wasn't crazy about was the mild homophobia. Pretty much the entire plot was homophobic. But if you can let that go and just run with it, I think you'll enjoy it. But wait for the video. This is definitely one of those movies.

I saw "Casino Royale" this weekend. Wow, what a thrill ride!

From the moment of the first chase, I knew Daniel Craig was a great choice as Bond. Then again, I knew from the moment I saw "Layer Cake," another great Craig movie.

God, he was so good as Bond. (And it didn't hurt that he looked yummy ... way to bulk up your body, Craig.) I totally forgot anyone had embodied that character before. He completely reinvigorated the franchise. Bond really had become a caricature, and Craig embodied him with emotions and a backstory that was believable and even somewhat relatable. And did I mention he was hot?

A big thumbs-up on this one.

Wow, it's been almost two years that I've been writing this blog! Time sure does fly.

I thought it would be neat to update some of the stories I've written. I know you're just itching to know what ever happened with that priest. And how will you ever live without knowing whether I hooked up with J.D. (in my dreams)?

Fear not, friends. All your questions are about to be answered. (And by all, I mean all, because, come on, what else are you thinking about all day if not me?)

The Tale of the Prejudiced Priest: After my response to his letter to the editor, I never heard another peep. My mom told me he was really old and really ill, so it could be he passed away. Either way, our feud is over ... for now.

J.D. and I are over. It was fun while it lasted, but I’ve got a new obsession, er, I mean, interest.

I still have not shopped at Target. Honestly, this boycott lasted waaaay longer than even I thought it would. I’m pretty darn proud of myself. And I’ve saved a ton of money, too, now that I don’t go shopping every weekend.

I've sort of giving up on acting. It’s not like Bayonne is the hub of the acting universe. There’s a class here at night at the local high school, but it sounds like it’s more for teens. I’ll keep looking around, but I think I’m done with this one. I may take up tennis again, though.

My foray into the world of New Jersey professionals was short-lived. Everyone was nice, but the events were pretty far from town, and honestly, I don’t want to try that hard to meet new people. If any more events come to Bayonne, I’ll go, but I’m not going to New Brunswick to feel awkward in front of a group of strangers. I can do that here at home.

I’ve kept half of my New Year’s resolutions. You decide which ones ... shouldn’t be too hard, if you know me at all.

My complaint-free week lasted about three days. I’ve tried to continue it, but it’s just too hard. Who doesn’t ever complain at all, anyway? Not gonna happen, my friends.

My brother’s dog lives.

My mom’s bird lives.

I’m now worth $2.24, thanks to inflation.

And, of course, I’m still watching way too much television.

So that’s it. That’s the scintillating recap. Hope you enjoyed it. I’m off now, to do stuff so I have things to blog about. Ok, we all know that by "stuff" I mean "watch TV," right? Yeah, I thought so. Some things never change.

Ok, so I'm finally getting around to watching movies I've been meaning to see but haven't had time to in the past year or so. I rented two this weekend. The first was "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest." Pure crap. I'm not even going to write any more about it.

I also saw "The Devil Wears Prada." Yes, it's a chick flick, but it's a good chick flick. And Meryl Streep is just amazing, natch. She really makes the movie. Emily Blunt, who plays one of the assistants, is also really good. Very funny. I recommend it. It's not the best movie ever made, but it's not a waste of time (like that pirates movie ... ugh).

I rented two movies this weekend: "The Departed" and "Stranger than Fiction." I highly recommend both movies.

"The Departed," the movie that finally got Scorcese his first Oscar, is an über-violent remake of the Hong Kong thriller "Internal Affairs." The film takes place in Boston, where Frank Costello, an Irish mob boss, implants Colin Sullivan as a mole inside the Massachusetts State Police. At the same time, Officer Billy Costigan has infiltrated Costello's crew. When the two catch wind of the other's involvement, they attempt to discover each other's identities.

Did I mention it was violent? I'm a bit squeamish, so some parts were hard for me to look at -- and, in fact, I did have to look away during some scenes -- but it was totally worth it. The script and acting are top-notch. And I'm glad Scorcese was rewarded for this movie -- he totally deserved it. If you can stomach the violence, do watch it.

"Stranger Than Fiction" is strange indeed. It's about Harold Crick, an IRS agent whose life is transformed when he hears a mysterious voice narrating his life. With the help of a literature professor, Harold discovers he's the main character of a novel-in-progress and that the voice belongs to an eccentric author famous for killing her main characters in creative ways.

And now you're probably thinking, "Huh?" Yeah, that’s about right. It's definitely a quirky movie, but it's thoroughly entertaining, and Will Ferrell really sells it. He's great in his first dramatic role. I totally found him believable. I also thought Maggie Gyllenhall, who plays his love interest, was fantastic. I never really saw her in anything before, and honestly never though that much of her, but she did a great job with this role. Oh, and Emma Thompson is fabulous, as always. If you can let go and just accept the nutty premise, you're sure to enjoy the movie.

I plan on seeing "The 300" this weekend, which looks like it can either be a really, really good movie or a really, really awful movie. I'm sure it's the latter, but as long as it's a good awful movie, I'll be happy.

Well, so much for my complaint-free week. I tried. I really, really tried. And I was good for almost three days! (Which is, what, three weeks in dog years?)

I've been good. There were times -- many, many times -- I had to bite my tongue, but I was good. And I even felt my mood and my entire composure change. No complaining for me, kind sir! I am a ray of sunshine and happiness!

And then I called the phone company tech support.

Look, I think it's great that the folks in India have gotten themselves some great jobs. That's wonderful. Everyone's gotta make a living, right?

What I don't think is great is that they're put in positions of customer support, where they have to talk to people on the phone. And honestly, I'd feel the same way about it if it were people in Spain. If they can't speak English properly, then they need to not be in a position where I'm relying on them to help me verbally.

The tech support person was very nice, but it was like banging my head against a wall. Say this very, very slowly to get an idea of what I mean: "Ok ... now ... in ... the ... box ... type ... this ... in ... Are ... you ... ready? ... Ok ... here ... we ... go ... Type ... in ... h ... as ... in ... Henry ... t ... as ... in ... Tom ... another ... t ... as ... in ... tom ... p ... as ... in ... peter ... and ... now ... a ... semicolon ..." Um, that's a colon. "Alright ... let's ... start ... again ..." Now deal with that for 2-1/2 hours. I kid you not. It took me from 8 to 10:30 to reconnect my DSL modem.

Yes, I know I'm complaining, but I gotta get it all in before I start again. Ok, here I go...

My, isn't the sky particularly shiny and bright today?

I read an article in People magazine about a pastor somewhere in Iowa (or some other such state I've never visited or plan to visit) who is passing out a free "Complaint-Free Bracelet" -- similar to the Live Strong bracelets, but in purple.

The article got me thinking about how often I complain ... and boy, do I complain! So I'm going to try to forego complaining for one whole week.

It's been half a day already, and let me tell you, it's a lot harder than I thought! (Not that I'm complaining...) There have already been at least three our four times that I really had to bite my tongue.

I've also found that, sans complaining, I've talked a lot less today than I normally do. That's pretty sad, isn't it?

Of course, I'm still finding my way around this. I'm sure as the week goes along, I'll come up with rules and exceptions. For example, if I say something sarcastically, like "Boy, I'm sure glad that person didn't cut me off" after someone cuts me off, does that count? (I think it does.) Also, am I allowed to complain on this blog? (I think I should be.) Those kinds of things ...

So we'll see how it goes. I'll be sure to post updates here ... without complaining, of course.

It's been a long time since I've done something stupid.

Ok, not that long, but seriously, it's been a while since I've left the house with two different color shoes on, or walked the looooong hallway to the office without realizing my shirt was up around my neck (don't ask). I mean, it wasn't too long ago that a week wouldn't go by without me walking into the glass doors at 7-11, thinking they were open, or forgetting to close the sunroof during a rainstorm.

That said, I'm in for it big-time. If it's been this long, there's a lot of stupid-time to make up. I wonder what I should expect. Will I get all the way to work before realizing I haven't changed out of my pajamas? Will I show up to work, only to look down and see pink, fuzzy slippers, instead of shoes, on my feet?

I'm a little nervous...

"A creative fan got up close and personal with Hugh Grant at the Amsterdam premiere of his new film, 'Music & Lyrics,' on Friday night. The fan managed to get near the British actor and handcuffed herself to him. Police and emergency fire rescue had to be called in order to cut off the handcuffs. The young lady was later detained by police but released without serving time in jail."

Why didn't I think of this? Oh, yeah, because it's crazy.

My friend Neets said I was not completely forthcoming in my last post. As she so kindly pointed out, "Murder, She Wrote" is among the least embarrassing programs I've been addicted to. Sadly, she is right. I've canceled plans with friends in order to watch much-worse shows. (Remember, though, this was before TiVo ... so I had no choice! I mean, what was I going to do, miss them? Pshaw.)

So, because I have no shame, here is the real list of TV shows I can't help but love. Try not to judge me too harshly. It's a sickness to love this much suckitude.

"Matlock" -- Come on, are you gonna tell me that just the sight of Andy Griffith doesn't make you feel better? It's like pop-culture comfort food, people.

"JAG," about a group of Judge Advocates General. I watch it a lot in reruns. The best thing about the show is that it spawned the spin-off "NCIS."

"The District," which followed the work and personal life of the chief of Washington, D.C.'s Metropolitan Police Department, played by Craig T. Nelson ("Coach"). Sounds like it could be good, right? Yeah, it really wasn't. Which isn't to say I don't enjoy it. The only problem is that reruns are on the same time as "JAG"'s, so I have to switch off on which one to TiVo. Decisions, decisions. Life is hard.

"Stargate SG-1," a sci-fi show about a team of "explorers" that use a network of ancient Stargates, which enable interplanetary travel, to defend Earth from the Goa'uld and other alien threats. I know it sounds hokey, but it's actually quite ... oh, who am I kidding? It's totally cheesy. I love it.

"Viper," an action-adventure TV series about a special task force set up by the federal government to fight crime in fictional Metro City, Calif. The weapon used by the task force is an assault vehicle that masquerades as a Dodge Viper RT/10 roadster and coupe. A poor man's version of "Knight Rider." (And here you thought "Knight Rider" was the poor man's version...)

"Diagnosis Murder" -- This, by far, is the most embarrassing. (Yes, even more so than "Viper" -- at least that was meant to be cheesy.) Here, the plot centered around Dr. Mark Sloan (Dick Van Dyke), a renowned physician who occasionally worked for the police department as a consultant. Riiiight, because being a "renowned physician" wasn't keeping him busy enough. But I love Dick Van Dyke -- he's like Andy Griffith; you can't help but feel good at the sight of him.

There, it's all out in the open. Now that wasn't so bad, was it? I feel much better having gotten that all out there.

Now, if you don't mind, I've got a couple of "Columbo"s to catch up on...

I just got over this awful stomach bug that's been going around, and man, it really knocked me out. It was all I could do to lift my head off the pillow.

So I pretty much spent four days on the couch, sleeping. Ok, that's not true. I spent most of it watching "Murder She Wrote" marathons.

Hm, should I have admitted that? Probably not. But I love myself some Jessica Fletcher. Isn't Angela Lansbury just the coolest old lady? "Murder She Wrote" is like a warm, fuzzy blanket. I can't help but feel calm and reassured when I watch it.

I'd say it's a guilty pleasure, but there's no real reason to feel guilty about it. At least, not like when I used to watch "VIP," that Pamela-Anderson-as-private-detective show. Um, ok, now that I'm fairly certain I shouldn't have admitted...

I'm sorry, was there a football game on last night? I was busy watching commercials ...

Ok, I'm lying. I was totally psyched the Colts beat the Bears, if only because I'm a sucker for underdogs. The fact the game was so tight for most of it only made it more interesting. But really, it's all about the commercials.

My faves:

Budweiser, "Rock." Who knew a game of "rock, paper, scissors" could be so dangerous.

Blockbuster, "Mouse." I'm sure the folks at PETA hated it, but I thought it was hysterical.

Snickers, "Manly." Yes, it was homophobic, but funny nonetheless. And really, it made fun of what idiots men can be. "Quick, let's do something manly." I can totally picture that happening.

Bud Light, "Class." I love Carlos Mencia, so this ad, where he teaches an ESL class, was likely to be entertaining for me. I also liked the one where he tells his girlfriend's friends all the things she's been saying about them behind their backs. Ok, so if that actually happened to me, I'd be really pissed, but it's TV, so who cares? It's funny.

Budweiser, "Dogs." Sooooo cute. I totally wanted to adopt that dog.

I also liked the one about Black History Month. It was sentimental, which you don't really look for in Super Bowl commercials, but it was nice. Of course, the fact that it was followed by men bashing each other in pursuit of a ball didn't exactly help.

This was on a friend's blog, but I can't resist sharing:

Um, I'm not quite sure what I'd do if I walked in to this on a Monday morning...

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." -- Marianne Williamson

Wow. How amazing is that quote? I heard it first in "Akeelah and the Bee," and it stuck with me. "Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." This is especially true of women. All young girls should be read this quote. Let's stop the "marginalization of women" and remind girls that it's ok -- actually, encouraged -- to be strong, powerful, opinionated.

I was reading a magazine article about how high-waisted jeans are the "in" fashion thing right now, and it got me to thinking: Remember all those styles that we thought were soooo in, but now, looking back, were completely horrendous?

I'm talking leggings -- or, even better, leggings with stirrups! The horror!

How about the socks-worn-outside-the-pants craze from the mid-'80s?

Or the sweatshirts with one shoulder exposed. (Thanks, "Flashdance.")

Then there was the "Relax, Don't Do it" and "Frankie Goes to Hollywood" t-shirts. Remember how huge they were? I had one that said "Feed the World" that could have clothed the world. Ugh, I shudder at the thought.

I won't even go into all the Madonna fads.

What were we thinking? And, years from now, what will we think of what we're wearing right now?

I watched "Akeelah and the Bee" this weekend, a nice, sweet film about an inner-city girl who makes it all the way to the national spelling bee. It's a cute story. Of course, I cried -- big surprise. But that got me thinking about how I love to cry at movies. You know how sometimes you just need a good cry, not for any reason other than just because? And you know how you feel tons better afterwards? Well, here's a list of my favorite tearjerkers -- movies that are sure to gets those tears flowing:

"Bridges of Madison County" -- That scene where she's in the car with her husband, and she sees Clint's car, and has to fight not to run out to him? Heartbreaking.

"The Notebook" -- This entire movie made me cry, but no part more than when James Garner says goodbye to his wife as she's dying. I'm crying right now just thinking about it.

"Whale Rider" -- If you have not yet seen this movie, please run out and get it. It's one of the most beautiful movies I've ever seen. I didn't cry until three-quarters of the way through it, but then I couldn't stop.

"Life is Beautiful" -- If you don't cry at this movie, you're not human.

"Schindler's List" -- If you don't cry at this movie, you're not human.

"Steel Magnolias" -- That cemetery scene kills me.

"Fried Green Tomatoes" -- It's not a tearjerker per se, but it still gets me.

"Beaches" -- Yes, it was manipulative in its sappiness. Still cried.

"Jerry Maguire" -- Back when I was still watching Tom Cruise movies.

I was sitting on the couch this weekend, trying to catch up on some TiVo'd shows. I was working my way through a bag of mixed nuts -- you know, the kind with the shells on them that require a nutcracker.

So there I was, trying to crack open a walnut. It was a little tough, so I really put some elbow grease into it. Well, I guess I put just a little too much, because the walnut opened with such force that a piece of the shell shot right up my nose.

No, you didn't read that wrong.

Let's just say that the next few minutes involved a pair of tweezers, a close-up mirror and a steady hand.

Talk about having a stuffed-up nose. Ba-dum-pum.

I was watching "24" the other night -- Ok, how awesome was that?!? -- and there was a scene between Jack Bauer and Assad, the former terrorist. Assad tells Jack that "visitors" is terrorist code for "nuclear weapons," to which Jack replies, "nucular weapons?"

Yes, folks, "nucular" weapons. It was enough to tear me away from the storyline, if only for a moment.

How is it that the guy playing Assad, Alexander Siddig, who's Sudanese, can pronounce "nuclear" correctly, but Kiefer, from the good ol' US of A, can't? So all you immigrant haters, step down! It sorta puts a little wrench in your ideology when a foreigner can speak English better than an American, doesn't it?

But I digress.

Anyways, it got me thinking about other words and phrases that are mispronounced or misused that drive me crazy. So, since I love lists so much, here's a list of my linguistic pet peeves:

Possessive vs. Plural: People, this is the bane of my existence. You don't buy "egg's"; you buy "eggs." You don't read "Sundays paper"; you read "Sunday's paper." And, although I get the logic behind using "It's" instead of "Its" in phrases such as "The cat took its sweet time," it's is incorrect. "It's" means "it is" -- that's it.

Aunt vs. Ant. I'm an aunt, not an ant. Although I may sometimes look like one, I am not, in fact, an insect.

Irregardless: There's no such word. It's just "regardless."

Conversating: Again, there's no such word. What you're doing is conversing.

Axe vs. Ask: Please don't axe me. I like life. Why not try asking me?

The Disappearing "R": It's February and library, not Febuary and libary.

You vs. I: Or should that be you vs. me? Argh. There used to be a time when people used "me" when they should have used "I." They were corrected, so they overcompensated and now use "I" instead of "me." It's not always "you and I." If Mark gives cookies to Laura and me, he's given cookies to Laura and he's given them to me. He hasn't given them to Laura and I; he can't give cookies to I. Don't fight it.

I'm sure there are other things I can't think of at this moment, but these are the big ones. I'm just trying to make this planet a little better, one word at a time.

A couple of weeks ago, I lamented the start of a new year, because it meant another birthday on the way. What I neglected to realize at the time was that the new year also brings ... TV premieres!

That's right, several TV shows will either start or re-start their seasons. Sunday and Monday night: four new hours of "24"! Jack Bauer's back and ready to kick some terrorist a**.

Returning favorites include "Grey's Anatomy" (I've missed those Seattle Grace hotties) and, of course, "American Idol," the show I love to hate. (Or is that hate to love?)

Other shows starting soon include "Monk," everyone's number-one neurotic detective; "Psych," a new favorite; and "Nashville Star," the poor man's "American Idol."

Oh, and I'm all atizzy over Liev Schreiber temporarily joining "CSI" while Grissom, er, I mean William Peterson, goes all theater actor on us. "Damn you Grissom!"

So happy new year to all my TV-loving friends. Oh, darn it; there goes my resolution to get a boyfriend. Oh, well, I'd rather have TV. And yes, I know how sad that is.

So I found a church, an Episcopal one, in town. I've been there a couple of times now, and I do like it. For one, the priest (I'm not quite sure what to call him -- father? reverend?) is really nice. He makes sure to talk to everyone, and has made me feel very welcome. I also like his sermons, because they're very informal and current. I also like the Jesus-as-teacher-not-preacher mentality. The church serves the community through a nonprofit organization, so it's really more of a community-outreach church. I have to go a few more times before I decide whether it'll stick, but I think this might work out.

So that's one resolution down, three more to go. Well, two to go. I already blew the "be more patient" one. Now seriously, did anyone believe that would actually happen?

Well, it is a new year, which means new resolutions. I don't know how long these will last, but here's a list of the things I'd like to improve on, along with their difficulty rating (one star being the easiest):

I resolve to:

1. Be more patient. Especially with stupid people. Darg, I hate stupid people. But I will be better this year. I will try not to use sarcasm as a way to handle stupid people. And I will try not to let their stupidity get to me or get me down. Instead, I will realize that everyone, no matter how stupid, has a reason for being. ****

2. Go back to church. Every year, I toy with the idea of going back to church, and every year I remember why I don't: I don't agree with much of what the Catholic religion believes in. For one, I believe women should be allowed into the priesthood. Also, I don't agree that priests should remain celibate and single. And I disagree with their non-acceptance of gays (though, to be fair, that's pretty much the same in any established religion). But then I thought, why do I have to go to a Catholic church? There are other, more liberal, Christian denominations. After some research, I decided to give a local Episcopal church a try. I went yesterday, and it was nice. Much of the mass was just like Catholic mass, so I didn't feel too out-of-place. And the rector was nice and introduced me to everyone at mass. Plus, the church is very active in the community, especially through a nonprofit foundation that helps the homeless and developmentally disabled in the area. This one should be easy to keep. *

3. Get a boyfriend. Hah, easier said than done, but this year, I will at least try. I will become active in community groups again, and will meet new people, and, bladder be damned, I will not have to "go to the bathroom" the next time a cute guy tries to talk with me! No more! *****

4. Get fit. Yes, it's the old standby, the one everyone mentions. Doesn't mean I can't use it, though, right? ***

Now, let's see how many of those are still in play in a month or so...

Happy new year!!!

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.