This time Disney has taken things too far!

Humans need to learn when-to-say-when in electing to have plastic surgery.

After his role in Disney's Enchanted, it looks like McDreamy might be caught up in a real-life fairy tale role reversal:


Beauty (left) and The Beast.

He’s very good at his job, which is all about selling people what they'll like by using imagery they can understand

Recently I had a really bad day (nothing to be *alarmed* about, just a bad day!) and some of my friends checked in to see how I was doing. They knew to do so not only because they're an intuitive lot, my group of peeps, but also because I sent out a mass e-mail to everyone, which may or may not have included the following:

If I get through this day, it will be an actual miracle that I will credit it to any and all of the tipples I've been....tippling. If there is any love in your heart for me, you will think of something supportive, something kind, something witty, or simply something that doesn't sound like a critique on the way I have glasses arranged in my kitchen cabinets; and you'll leave this gem of positivity on my voicemail or in my inbox. Then I'll have more people besides the Robert Mondavi Winery to send thank you notes to next week.


I got plenty of amazingly supportive responses, and I appreciated them all because they were as varied as the personalities of the people I surround myself with. One of these responses made me laugh so hard, though, that I had to share it with you.

What you need to know as background information is that this person makes their living educating people on pairing wine with food (or in my case, wine with whining). This was his response:

Get away from Mondavi and branch out to Argentina's Gascon Malbec 2006. Same idea, better state of mind (think Javier Bardem in leather and smoke with a whole lot of berries). You will not be disappointed.


This is a person who KNOWS exactly how to describe wine in terms I can understand and appreciate. Telling me that a certain wine tastes like Javier Bardem looks in leather? Suddenly I felt MUCH better.

The crashing of the surf, like the beating of our hearts, drowned out the sounds of the paparazzi

It has been so cold here in Chicago that Jeremy decided to whisk me off to the beach. We both needed to shake off some of these wintertime blues! Even with the pesky paparazzi, it was a lovely getaway. You can tell in the photo on the right that I hardly had a concern in the world beyond making sure my legs got tan.


Pivs & I, soaking up the heat of the sun, which is different than the heat of our love only in that the sun eventually sets, taking it's heat with it. Our love is on, 24/7, baby.


I wouldn't have known anything about our uninvited guests had Jen not sent me the link! Thanks, Jen!

Brides-To-Be everywhere declare USDA "Bachelorette Party Enemy #1"

You're not going to believe this, but I'm not a fan of male strip clubs (seriously, I'm really not); however, I was still shocked to see this story on CNN.com:


The bad news is that apparently the USDA has jurisdiction over beefcake. The good news is I won't need so many dollar bills at the next bachelorette party I attend!


Just kidding, I'm only having some fun with the headlines again. The real story about ACTUAL beef is HERE. I bet my version, had it been real, would have made some of you a little more outraged, though.

Now with twice the music, twice the entendre

Every year for the past ten, I've made an official Valentine's Day mix to send out to all of my loved ones. Every year except for that one February when I was totally disgusted with showing affection to anyone; but it was for the best, trust me.

This year I've taken a page from one of my best friends (she may or may not choose to "out" herself in the comments), who upon hearing a song with a particularly sexified beat or super-hot lyrics, will turn to me and say, "Oooh, this one is going on the 'BANG' cd!". The first time she said it, approximately 100 years ago, we were in a loud bar and I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. She assured me that she did in fact say what I though she said, and that she does in fact have a cd specifically designated as "BANG" music. By the way, that is HER vulgar term, not mine. I would never say something like that because I'm a lady.

What? Don't you believe me?

Regardless, this V-day mix is a tip of my proverbial hat in her direction, as I've come up with a playlist worthy of my own Bang CD. I also took eleventy-hundred hours and uploaded it all so that you can enjoy it too! It should come as no surprise to you that some lyrics are not appropriate for young ears (or old ears, if you're at work and your boss is nearby).


It's all there... the beginning make-out songs, to the well, the OTHER music, and it'll take you all the way through your Love Hangover. You're welcome.


I cannot be held responsible for the effect this music has on you, but I will take all the credit!

So, whether you're spending Valentine's Day (night, whatever) alone or with one or more loved ones, enjoy this mix... and by ENJOY I mean, well, you know what I mean. I won't spell it out for you because I'm a lady.

Seriously, why doesn't ANYONE believe me when I say that? ;)

This is all theoretical, of course; it certainly didn't just happen to me.

Let's just say, in theory, that you got home from work a little bit early today; and let's go one further and say that there is a 6' tall snowbank between your parked car and the sidewalk that leads down the path to your door. Assuming that the snowbank was not solid ice, and that the earth has this thing called gravity; at some point during your attempt to go over the pile of snow, your legs probably sank down pretty far, and then you had to pull them out and climb a little higher, sinking down again.

You most likely repeated those actions enough times to eventually get over the top and then you did more of a slide down the back of the snowbank. Your boots are wet, your socks are wet, your pants are water-logged, and unfortunately you're wearing the ones that are longer than they should be; so they're also dragging down the sidewalk all the way to your door; bringing tiny piles of snow and ice along with them.

Since it's windy, and you're already shaking from the low temperature, the first thing you do when you close the front door behind you is to take off your jacket, hat, gloves, sopping wet boots and socks. Then you look down at your pants, which are sticking to your legs as if you went swimming in them, and figure, "I might as well take these off, too"; which you do. Right there in your entryway.

You're standing there, shivering cold, but at least you're no longer wet, and decide to quickly flip through your mail. Then, just as you start a little mini-jog towards your bedroom, where you're to find comfortable, dry clothes to throw on, a man walks out of your bathroom. He's as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

Each of you manages to scream LIKE A GIRL for about 5 seconds, and once you realize you're standing there in nothing but a sweater, in front of one of the maintenance guys, you get it together long enough to push past him and slam your bedroom door, all the while yelling, "What the F%*K, YOU GUYS ARE SUPPOSED TO CALL 24 HOURS BEFORE YOU COME IN HERE!"; and he's stammering apologies, saying "It was marked down that someone DID call, but it must have been an oversight because why would you be half naked if you knew someone was fixing your bathroom sink?", and while you're pulling on some pants you yell back, "You're damned right it was an oversight!"

Then he says he "just finished anyway!", which, because you're delirious, in shock and also because you have the twisted mind of a 15 year old, you misconstrue it, thinking he's trying to be funny by implying something ENTIRELY different by that statement, and you lose your shit completely until you realize he just means he's done with the sink repair.

By the time you open your bedroom door--fully dressed--you're already laughing about the absurdity of the last 15 minutes.

Having quietly stepped over your pile of wet clothes and boots in the entryway, he's already gone.

The girls are talkin', the girls are talkin'... and Bullie, you didn't disappoint!

Do you remember this post from two weeks ago? The one that ended with someone paying $29.99 for a certain item that was described to have "at one time contained the seeds of life and the future of the herd"?

To enhance the reading experience of this post, I'm going to get you in the right frame of mind, because I'm a giver like that (Double-click on either "play" arrow if you have trouble with the video):

TLC's "Girl Talk": A most appropriate song for this particular post, and pretty much my life.


Alright. I think you're ready now, or as ready as you're going to be!

I got a phone call from Anastasia Beaverhausen (Jen) the other night while I was rushing around getting dressed up. Ignoring that I was almost on my way out the door, she responded with a very Carol-Anne-from-Poltergeist-like, "It's he-ere!"!

I stopped what I was doing and knowing what the answer would be, asked, "What's here?"


And thus begins the first H.o.J. live blogging event: The un-boxing of el Saco de Toro!

THE PLAYERS: Jen, Me, El Saco De Toro, KC (Jen's 9 year-old daughter, who had a red Prada bag on her Christmas list, to which Jen replied, "First of all, young lady, you don't even know what a Prada bag is, and second of all, I DON'T EVEN OWN A PRADA BAG SO KEEP DREAMING!"), and Jax, their family's small but very amorous dog.

Jen: It's he-ere!

Me: What's here?

Jen: I waited to open it until you were on the phone... The Saco de Toro "Bullie"  is He-ere!

Me: Don't go to the light, Carol Anne! Soooo, what's your first impression?



Jen: It.............. ohmigod, it smells. It really, really smells. Like...

Me: Wait! Let me guess. It smells like balls, doesn't it?

Jen: Quick, someone get MENSA on the line!

Me: You know I totally aced their "fun test", don't you? For awhile, B. called me "Ace" because of my score. This fact totally pales in comparison to what you're now holding in your hands.

Jen: Anyway "Ace", it has some marks on it, but they said that would be the case with each one, and that these 'blemishes' are "indicative of the hardships endured by the beast", so I guess I shouldn't expect it to be pristine. Uh oh, here comes KC. This should be interesting.

KC: Gross, Mom! What is that and what is it made of?

Me: I dare you to tell her it's the new Prada bag. That'll teach her not to be a slave to fashion!

Jen: It's the new brown Prada! Hold it so I can take a picture.

KC: (clearly smart enough to know better) No, I'm not going to hold that thing! What's it made of? Tell me!

Jen: Uhhhh, animal skin.... like your boots. Hold it so I can send a picture to Julie.

KC: I'm not touching that thing. (exiting the room quickly)

Me: She doesn't have time for these foolish games! What are your other impressions of el Saco?

Jen: It has HAIR on it!

Me: What did you expect, that it would be waxed?

(Jax the love-dog walks in, sniffing around to see what's up.)

Jen: Now the dog has come in here to inspect the Saco.



Me: Animal recognizes animal. It's like us, out at the bar! Anyway, Jax is probably formulating a plan on how to get the Saco all to himself later, and get all romantic-like. Again, like us out at the bar!

Jen: This is by far the best $29.99 I've ever spent.

Me: I totally agree. What are you going to do with it now?

Jen: I have it up on a shelf, looking gorgeous. All I have to do is take care of that smell. Maybe I'll buy some dried flowers.

Me: So, what once held the "seeds of life and the future of the herd" is to be a large potpourri holder? I'm SURE the bull would be pleased.

See Jen's post on her new "purse" by clicking HERE.

Well, everything EXCEPT stealing my records and screwing all of my friends

I am really tired of getting bitch-slapped by Old Man Winter. At the beginning of November, the flakes were cute. I had a little flirtation going on with the cold weather. I wore some adorable sweaters and the winter hat I bought in Zermatt (the fact that hat rhymes with Zermatt usually makes me happy, even in freezing temperatures).

Now I'm over it. I know there is more snow accumulation elsewhere and I realize there are more pressing matters at hand in the universe, but seriously, these continuous snowstorms are bringing me DOWN.

For example, I've had the following song on repeat in my iTunes for the past 8 hours, which is pretty much what I've done every February since this song came out. I might need a Ryan Adams intervention... but good luck getting here. It will take days for you to scale the snowdrifts alone.


Double-click on either "play" arrow if you have trouble with the video

"Come Pick Me Up"

I wish you would:
Come pick me up. 
Take me out. 
F**k me up. 
Steal my records.
Screw all my friends with a smile on your face, and then do it again.
I wish you would.

If you are NOT planning to put me through a Ryan Adams intervention, but are instead going to follow the lyrics in this song, intending to Come Pick Me Up and all that comes after that (except stealing my records and screwing my friends), I will gladly shovel a path to my door.

I dare you to tell Brooke Shields & I apart!

Brooke Shields and I have SO much in common! For starters, there is the whole getting marooned on a beautiful island-thing, letting nothing get between us and our Calvins, attending Princeton University, starring in our own 90's sitcom, and marrying hot Hollywood players.

Except for the fact that she's 8 years my senior, on some days we also have this in common:


Oh, Brooke... you're so relatable!

One of my favorite photo subjects is ThirTEEN today

Back when he was a younger superhero, swinging on a swing flying through the air.


The youngest in our family, my nephew J., is officially a teenager today. He's smart, kind, hilarious, and can pick up any instrument to play something by ear. He's been taking guitar lessons for a couple of years and recently asked me a very important question.

"Have you ever heard of the song, Freebird?"


That ranks right up there with the time his older brother (who is on his way to 16) was in 1st grade and told me all about these special CDs his teacher brought to class. They were HUGE, and black.

Of course, they weren't CDs, but records.


I love those kids.