"I carried a watermelon..."

If you are unfamiliar with this movie quote, then I recommend you scoot right along to the next post in your google reader queue.

For those reading this who are not communists and recognize the line that Baby utters to Johnny Castle at the after party in Dirty Dancing - we are meant to be friends. (Stick around. I give pretty good birthday gifts.)

"I carried a watermelon..." is exactly what I say when I find myself embarrassed by an item I may have blurted out for usually one of two reasons:

1) I've been over-served by a bartender or myself (more often than not it is by my own hand)
2) My Sweet & Thoughtful pills ran out and the real me shows up...gah. Hate those days.

We recently attended a very lovely 30th birthday party for a dear friend and member of our game night group. The sweet tea vodka flowed and I became a casualty of my own seemingly bottomless highball glass. The good news - I was sweet...not so much thoughtful.

There are five couples in our game night group. It's a well-balanced bunch. We've got a good thing going. No need to fiddle with the recipe. Right? Well, after four drinks this cook headed to the kitchen.

A very cute couple mentioned how they wanted to start their own game night group. I responded quickly - "Pish. We've done all the leg work...just to come to ours next month."

Fast forward an hour later- chatting with another couple, the Williams*, game night was again mentioned. And, I offered up an invitation to next month's gathering.
*Names have been changed to protect the boring and dis-invited.

Later on the nicest woman in our group (Daisy Troop leader, teaches Boot Camp every morning at 5 am, coaches her church's youth basketball league...you get it) asked, "Did I hear you invite the Williams to game night? They are terrible."

Ruh-roh.

So, I can only hope that they indulged in equal parts sweet tea vodka resulting in general alcohol induced memory fuzziness and will not be ringing the doorbell in a few weeks for our Connect Four Tournament.

Yet again - "I carried a watermelon..."

Mr. News Readin' let me know that if we are asked to leave the game night group he will formally protest and petition to retain his membership, but will accept my dismissal based on inappropriate conduct.

Thanks, dear. The support is overwhelming.

Stay tuned. More at 11.

**Edited to add: When I penned this - I had no idea it would coincide with the passing of Patrick Swayze. No one made dancing or the Catskills sexier and inspired millions to "try the lift."

Paging Joy: Your Party Waits in Arrivals

Lately I've had the pleasure (or displeasure) of spending time in airports. Fun destinations aside - airports are usually miserable places.

From the "easy" kiosk check-in which seems to take more time than the good old-fashioned human check-in process to the endless security lines, where measures that have been in place for eight years still take people by surprise - it all is just exasperating.

Note to the lady in Chicago that balked at having her massive aerosol can of hairspray and industrial size bottle of Jean Naté bath splash taken away...they did you a favor. Say thank you and head to the nearest Sephora to regroup.

And let me not fail to mention the oversold, delayed flight scenario that is more the standard than the exception. All in all - flying commercial couldn't be any less pleasant.

Which is probably why most travelers are, generally speaking, grumpy. Reeaaallyyy grumpy. I counted myself as one of those grumpy travelers until I read this piece from Chris Jones for Esquire.

Shared with me by a dear friend, who is a veteran traveler of the skies, it brought tears to my eyes and reminded me that happiness exists just beyond the confines of baggage claim.

I thought it was very share worthy...


Stay tuned. More at 11.

Law and Order: Special News Reader Unit

Driving is not in my wheelhouse. Quoting the movie Heathers, being seated next to the most emotionally unstable person on any plane and making crêpes - on the other hand - are all me.

An illustration: it took three tries to pass my road test. From 1999-2003, I can count on two hands how many times I operated a motor vehicle. These stats did not exactly inspire confidence in the News Readin' Husband upon marriage and the addition of moi to his car insurance policy.

Recently, he seemed slightly perturbed when I reported being inconvenienced one morning in early February, while driving through a school zone by an officer of the law. By inconvenienced, I mean stopped for doing 50 mph in a 25 mph zone. Oops. You would think he would be numb to such moments after five + years of marriage.

To add to my not so bright and shiny morning, I couldn't locate my most current insurance card. If only he had stopped me prior to October 2008...Dammit.

Guess who missed her court date and has yet to pay her ticket? I know - my brilliance and incredible sense of responsibility are overwhelming. Mr. NR is not pleased. At all.

Yesterday I contacted the City K traffic court to discuss my errr...dilemma and had the pleasure of reaching Terry, who is four months away from retirement, a stickler for the law and lucky for me - a fan of a certain New Readin' Husband. Yahtzee.

Or so I thought.


Me: I'm calling in regards to ticket number 1234XYZ

Terry: Ohhh...let's see what we have here...speeding in a school zone and no proof of insurance. And you missed your court appearance! Tsk, tsk.

Me: Yes, well, sorry about all that. Could I just mail my payment to the court?

Terry: Miss News Readin' - is it? We'll be sending a patrol car for you shortly.

Me: (insert the sound of crickets and shallow breathing)

Terry: Just kiddin', honey...just kiddin'! Are you related to Mr. News Readin' on Channel 6?

Me: Yes, he is my husband. (blood returning to my face)

Terry: Is he really!? We watch him all the time...he does such a nice job covering the city.

Me: Thank you.

Terry: Just come on down and pay your ticket anytime between 8-5. And how bout you bring Mr. News Readin' along with you? We can put his picture up on our Wall of Fame.

Me: Sure! Will that knock my fine down?
(insert laughter - I mean, we're practically best friends by now)

Terry: (icily) No. You will still owe City K $293 for your serious traffic violation.

Me: Right. Of course.


Sheez. What happened to the Wall of Fame and all the honey talk?!

Another fine example of how local celeb (ha!) does not put you above the law. Although, I bet Terry will be singing a different song when Mr. News Readin' rolls in there on my arm, wearing a purple power tie and a bit of bronzer...

School zone will turn into seatbelt real fast.



Stay tuned. More at 11.

How to Spot a Heathen

One of my New Year's resolutions was to "get right with God." Or just go to mass a few times a month instead of a few times a year. So far - so good. Until the recessional, when I have to shake hands with the priest. My least favorite part. I can see it in his eyes - he knows I'm the stranger among his sheep.

Being the New Kid at mass is sort of like being the new person in a group exercise class. All the regulars assume the same position week after week, and give you the hairy eyeball should you dare cross the boundary line of "their spot." So, you've got that going for ya' - along with attempting to atone for missing the last 50 out 52 masses in a year.

I have been a Catholic all my life - save for that brief moment around the age of 13 when I thought, "I could be Jewish - have a Batz Mitzvah and then three years later do it up again for a Sweet Sixteen?! Have party. Will convert!" My mother, ever the Debbie Downer, quickly pointed out that conversion is a lengthy process , so my Batz Mitvah and Sweet Sixteen would end up being a combined party. And I would have to learn Hebrew. (Yiddish slang learned by just being a New Yorker, did not count.) Oy vey. I barely made it through middle school French.

Catholic, I remained.

Being relatively new to this church and still test driving our compatibility...(Do they use real wine or grape juice? Is parking a nightmare? Are the homilies relevant or about natural family planning?)...I had not officially registered and was without personalized envelopes for the collection baskets.

Since embarking on this road to redemption, I've been stuffing the monetary donation in my pocket. It's been smooth sailing. Until...

This past Saturday I slipped my hand into the wrong pocket and tossed my dry cleaning slip into the collection basket. Not realizing until the basket was two people down - I debated retrieving it rather than cause a scene. Until I recalled that MY NAME was on the slip. Oh, for the love of everything holy!!

So I had to get up, wrestle the basket from some lady who insisted on giving it to the usher at the end of the pew, grab my ticket and drop in my money. Sheez. Leave it to a heathen to ruin the flow of traffic and disrupt the vigil.

Yes, I have since ordered the damn envelopes. And no, I didn't stay after communion.

Stay tuned. More at 11.

Anthropologie: I love you. I love you not.

Does anyone else have a love/hate relationship with Anthropologie?

Seven years ago, I went through a "If it's not from Anthro I don't want to know it..." phase. Even my bedding was from them. Their clothes and accessories made me feel like a keen-eyed, sophisticated, bohemian. And poor. Because it goes without saying that for all its gossamer tank, adorable skirt and embellished sweater gorgeousness, Anthropologie is well...es-pensive.

Are ya' with me on this?

I'm fairly confident I'm on their watch list of habitual returners. Without fail, I'll buy two items and return at least one due to buyer's remorse. Most recently it was a grey blouse that in the husband's most astute observation, "looked like a bunch of napkins" for $178. Thank you, TimGunn.

But, with one skim of a catalog - I am instantly transported back to that pre-Mrs. young woman, who fantasized of skipping across Moorish rooftops in Morocco with tousled Edwardian hair and a $198 skirt from Moth with a $88 mis-matched striped tank from elevens. *sigh*

Then I remember that I do not weigh 90 lbs and would like a damn clown in such an ensemble and if I'm going to don a $200 out-and-about outfit - Morocco ain't the destination. (Been there on our honeymoon - can you say cesspool?...do not bring it up to Mr. NR...it's a sore subject.)

Imagine my shock when I spied this bathing suit, actually picked up the phone and ordered it without any hesitation. Usually a purchase from them includes online deliberations for two-three weeks with multiple phone consults with the BFF, Hilary. And buying a bathing suit - no less!

Had the flame from all those years ago been re-ignited???

Buri Checkered Bikini

It's a little Betty Page-esque, and I'm hoping that's what it will morph this "I've been downing grande hazelnut lattes all winter" body into miraculously. High hopes, no?

If not, here's Plan B:

The Lorelei Halter in Black

Definitely will not be mistaken for picnic buffet table and lends an air of "mystery" with that mid-section ruching.

So I wait with bated breath - hoping that this impetuous purchase of a bathing suit, made while snow falls outside and my treadmill lays idle, will not leave me once again hating Anthropologie (and higher on the habitual returner watch list.)


Stay tuned.
More at 11.

Breaking News from Gobbler's Nob

Dammit, Phil.


Being hoisted up in the air by the gentleman pictured above, is probably not how you saw your Monday beginning. I'd be irritated too - and equally not camera ready. Did they even let you take a brush to your tail? Ughh. State Tourism flacks are the worst.

With 13,000 people in the crowd, I'm sure you were slightly embarrassed. Hate that for you.

But, six more weeks of winter. Is that really necessary?

Seems like we might all be paying the price for some sour grapes of the NFL variety... Maybe you hail from a long line of die hard Eagles fans, and just hate to see the Steelers win the Big Game. Or you just want to get in a couple of more runs at Camelback. Maybe you slept in your contacts last night, making your shadow unmistakable. (Never a good idea, my man.)

Whatever your reasons - Candelemas will continue. Leave it to the Germans and their superstitions to put a damper on the approaching nice weather. (Not everybody wants to don their lederhosen and 100% wool Miesbacher jackets until April. K?) Just in case your middle school American history escapes you presently...Pennsylvania's earliest settlers were Germans.

A Miesbacher jacket

Hey Phil - here's a thought. Leave a "thanks for the good times" note in your stump and buy a one-way ticket to Vancouver. You can still enjoy life in a fur coat and the Winter Olympics are fast approaching. Surely they have some work for a seasoned groundhog, as yourself.


Sincerely yours in a very chilly way,

Mrs. News Readin'

P.S. If you are looking to do a tell-all interview for television, do call.

Somebody around here is Fabulous!

Oh, my!

The Lawyer's Wife has bestowed upon my humble leetle blog a "Your Blog is Fabulous" Award! Thank you so much, MPM.

I think the Lawyer's Wife is pretty darn fabulous and we would most definitely be sipping strong lattes at Starbucks together weekly - if we lived in the same county.

This fabulous award comes with a few rules:
Put the logo on your blog or post.
Nominate at least 10 blogs which you think are fabulous.
Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.
Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.

My Fab 10:

Legally Blonde Mel - OMG. Refined snarkiness at its best!
Granny Smith Green - So lovely. A daily must-read for me.
The Preppy Princess - A fellow CAP and a wealth of information for all things preppy!
Coterie - Chic, chic, chic. Recently engaged, her wedding blog is my new obsession.
Toad - Love him. His affinity for well-tailored clothing reminds me of a certain husband.
Le Petite Blog - Her football season posts made me want to drive to Lexington to tailgate.
Biscuits are Never Boring - She would be the most wonderful neighbor.
Peyton Place - Start reading just so you can get invited to her annual Christmas party.
Scented Glossy Magazines - I had to stop reading at work. Couldn't risk laughing out loud.
and of course,
Happy Homemaker - I consider it a privilege to call her my dear, dear friend. (She's gated. Sorry y'all.)


Now I have to share five addictions. I'll keep it to those that are not currently being treated by meds and therapy.



1) laboratoire remède alchemy moisturizer

2) Raspberry Chipotle Salsa (amazing with Hint of Lime Tostitos)



3) Jo Malone French Lime Blossom




4) FAGE Greek Yogurt with honey.





5) Anchormen. Any and all - but particularly the one I have at home.

Thanks again MPM!

xoxo,

Mrs. News Readin'

Special Report: Game Night Recap

(My quickie centerpiece. I know. Underwhelming.)

We hosted our inaugural Game Night on Friday. Just a little background...We've lived here for a year and a half, have met people but, really have become friendly with just two couples. So, instead of waiting for some invitation to come our way - we put this group together. To keep it interesting we made sure that we asked couples that really didn't know each other.

And was it interesting. I'm going as far as to say it was a resounding success based on these points:

• One of our Table Topics icebreaker questions - "What's the difference between good sex and great sex?" The Pilot in our group answered, "Attention to detail." Consider the ice broken.
• 10 people...a bottle of Jack, a bottle of Glenlivet, 1/2 a bottle of vodka, all the the Tequila Touchdown punch, 20 beers and then we went to our neighborhood bar for last call. Seriously.
• We actually played games. Taboo and Cranuim.
  
• Man crushes developed among the five men in attendance.
  
• Mr. News Readin' smacked another woman's ass during a spirited round of Cranium - and no one blinked an eye. Nice. Public office here he comes...
  

Thank you, thank you to all of you that answered my call for help. Here I was worried about the food! They really didn't eat very much. (How could they? All their time was spent drinking...) It ended up being:

Mini Roast Beef sandwiches - delicious, big hit!
Spicy Shrimp Cocktail - perfect with some alterations to the recipe
Cornbread Salad - yummy, but it just made too much
Spinach Artichoke Dip - a solid choice, that everyone seemed to eat
Veggies w/ Lemon Thyme Dip - the dip is so easy and really good!
Cheese Slaw - yummy, but it was just so much
Mini smoked chicken wraps - never made it out of the freezer (whoops!)
Mini lemon squares and dark chocolate brownies - store-bought, perfect sizes
Tequila Touchdown Punch - huge hit, had to make a second pitcher!

The food barely made it to the table before the first couple arrived. A 7:30 pm start time on a work day was cutting it really close. And I did so much prep work Wednesday & Thursday to avoid a panic attack! Oh well.

Mr. News Readin' was very helpful, aside from the fact that when I got home on Friday to find our bed unmade. (He gets up after I leave for work.) Glad I decided to make it up, considering everyone made a group trip to see the addition the previous owners (in attendance) made to the master suite. Note to them: When you host I'm going to tell everyone how organized your closets are...Two can play that game.

Everyone got along and enjoyed the evening. Of course as a hostess, you can think all of the ways things could have gone better.

No one had more fun than everyone's favorite News Reader. Understandably exhausted from his hosting duties (read: out drinking all of his guests), he did not make it out of bed until 4:45 pm yesterday.

Must be nice to not worry about clean up.


We now return to your regularly scheduled program.

Halloween Tricks & Tramps

Less than 12 hours until perfectly normal, successful women trade in all traces of decency and slut-it-up in the name of everyone's favorite pagan holdover, Halloween!

You go girl. Way to set the women's movement back 15 years - all for three hours of glory in a naughty nurse costume.

The first year we lived in the City in Two States, we attended a Junior League Halloween fête at the country club. I thought this would be a fun, festive event where drinks would be enjoyed while an 80's cover band entertained the crowd. Being new to town, I imagined this would a pretty tame party.

Instead we encountered Playboy bunnies, french maids, skanky Pocahontas's (one being the league president), naughty nurses galore and hundreds of jello shots.

And as the jello shots disappeared, boobs appeared. We saw more asses than Yankee Stadium in late October.

These women had children and sent out super cute Whitney English Christmas cards. Attorneys, teachers and drug reps (well, no one was surprised about the drug reps...) hanging out of cheap costumes and keeping careful watch for open flames.

And we wag our fingers at Britney...puh-lease.

In honor of those who want to use Halloween as the excuse to singlehandedly bring sexy back, here are Mrs. News Readin's top picks for Tricks & Tramps:

Take two of these and call me in the morning.

You're going to need a sweater.

No concealed weapons here.

Pirate wench...because the kids are totally into Pirates of the Caribbean.

Does Raggedy Andy know you're out dressed like that?

Mr. News Readin' wanted to know which one I'm wearing to a Halloween party Saturday night:



Sexy pilgrim. 'Cause that's how I roll. Chaste.


Edited to Note:
It has been suggested that I am coming across prudish - which I'm not. All I'm saying is if you're asking me where I go to church on Sundays and how volunteering, carpooling and running marathons are putting the squeeze on gourmet meal-making BUT are dressed like I should be stuffing dollar bills in your pants (if you're even wearing pants...) there is something seriously wrong.

Oh my stars.

Can we have a moment?

Ashley. Unscripted has given me my first blogger award.
All I have to say is - Honey, you are making me clutch my pearls. Thank you!

J'adore Ashley. As I have mentioned previously, she is the sole reason I am kinder and more discreet with my subscription-filler at Walgreen's. Not to mention - she's a freakin' hoot.

Here's the deal...one word answers to the questions below and then tag seven bloggers.
Here we go...

1. Where is your cell phone? Purse
2. Where is your significant other? Bed
3. Your hair color? Brown
4. Your mother? Saintly
5. Your father? Spirited
6. Your favorite thing? Morning
7. Your dream last night? Work
8. Your dream/goal? Content
9. The room you're in? Lobby
10. Your hobby? Reading
11. Your fear? Jellyfish
12. Where do you want to be in six years? New York
13. Where were you last night? Sonoma
14. What you’re not? Sweet
15. One of your wish list items? VintageCartier
16. Where you grew up? NY
17. The last thing you did? Newspaper
18. What are you wearing? Leggings
19. Your TV? Off
20. Your pet? DayCare
21. Your computer? LoveHate
22. Your mood? Happy
23. Missing someone? Putter&Pearl
24. Your car? Dirty
25. Something you’re not wearing? Socks
26. Favorite store? Henri Bendel (NYC)
27. Your summer? Short
28. Love someone? Deeply
29. Your favorite color? Coral
30. When is the last time you laughed? Hours
31. Last time you cried? Friday

If some of these seem a little off like, # 9, it's because I'm on an excursion in California with the adorable Mr. News Readin' and our fabulous friends Anne & Lee from Nashville. We do not have a Lobby in the News Readin' house. (Someday....)

Okay, I'm tagging these sensational seven bloggers:

1. Happy Homemaker because without her encouragement (harassment) there would be no blog o' mine
2. Pretty over at I Pick Pretty because she's wicked, fabulous and would make for an excellent partner in crime
3. The Mrs. from One Fabulous Mom who is so sweet and a joy to read
4. Mamacita who resides at What Would Jane Austen Do? simply because she's a must in my daily blog fix
5. Ned over at Peyton Place in light of her incredible, inspirational strength
6. SippyCups because she is the bomb! (Hope to see you next weekend...)
7. The Coterie - I'm pretty sure she doesn't indulge in the blogger award thing - but she is a must read for me and a shout out is required.

See y'all in few days...

Live from the West Coast,

Mrs. News Readin'

Sunday Morning Amusement

On Sundays, I love sitting down with a cup of coffee and leisurely going through the paper.
I try my best to read it cover to cover, but often times lose steam around page 3, main news. (The news sleeps next to me every night. I'm well informed.)

I'm really glad I made it through the whole thing a few Sundays ago...or else I would have missed this gem by Stephanie Hayes of the St. Petersburg Times.

Somebody get this girl a Pulitzer...

Fashion cleanup in aisle 3, please!
By Stephanie Hayes, St. Petersburg Times

The other night, I had a case of crankypantsitis. Students of science and medicine know there is one prescription: cookie dough, Diet Coke and DVD’s.

My guy and I hit Blockbuster, then a very nice Publix. Once inside, I trembled in fear. I witnessed people wearing the following items of, er, apparel:

• Four pairs pajama pants
• Three “muscle” shirts (six male armpits)
• One halter dress, exposing dingy frayed bra on verge of snapping to liberty
• Too many dirty flip-flops to comprehend
• One tube top, and therewith, zero bra
• One t-shirt reading, I kid you not, “Boone’s Farm Babe”
• One pair mesh basketball shorts paired with braided leather businessman loafers, as if to say, “Was too busy watching ‘West Wing’ to find proper pants, but dang, I really needed this Moose Tracks ice cream.”
• A partial nipple

When did the supermarket stop being a public place? Why does the pursuit of Pizza Rolls make reasonable folks dress like escapees from the Wacko Jacko Institute of Boudoir Wear? I know we’re tired. We work hard and pay taxes. We dash out last minute, because, WHO ATE ALL THE TOASTER STRUDEL?

I’m not suggesting evening gowns for the store, or even lipstick. But people still SEE you. It’s not a racquet-club steam room. For the love of all things holy, we’re dealing with open-air food here! THINK OF THE TOMATOES.

I implore you, fair nation. Take back clothes at the supermarket!
A vote for pants is a vote for change!
(Paid for by the National Coalition to Keep Pajamas in Bedrooms Inc.)

Amen.

Waxing on...

There are people that you have such a deep connection with that you simply cannot imagine life without them. For me those people are Mr. News Readin', my BFF Hilary and Anka - my waxer extraordinaire. Oh, and Tim Gunn.

WARNING: If you are of the male persuasion the following post will cause heavy wincing, groaning, sucking of air through clenched teeth and down right TMI overload. So, quit reading if lady-scaping is not a subject of interest.

If Mr. News Readin' is persnickety about his hair, I am downright Black Panther fanatical about who waxes me.

Being a New York girl and a Catholic schoolgirl to boot - I didn't waste any time learning the art of lady maintenance. I've been getting my eyebrows waxed since I was 16. (Thank God I had the good sense to get these squirrels under control at an early age.) The natural progression for those who wax their eyebrows is to tend to their nether region in a similar fashion. First bikini wax - 17.

I know...it sounds like I was massive tramp. Well, I was.
JUST KIDDING. I just like keeping it all tidy.

Back in the day I would go into any old nail or hair salon to get waxed. Until, I met Anka, a lovely Czech woman at BLISS 57 in NY. I was there for a facial, standard eyebrow and bikini wax. When it got to be that time to clean out the Flower Bed - she wanted to know if I wanted a landing strip.

Ummm...could you just make it that if I have an emergency trip to St. Bart's - we're all good?

Before I knew it, I had agreed to a landing strip and my first brazilian. I went onto become a fan of the inverted triangle, but you gotta start somewhere.

Brazilians are one of those things that if you knew how excruciating the first one was going to be, you would NEVER-EVER agree to get one or the very least let them do both sides.

Half-naked, on all fours, allowing them to slather hot wax reeeeaallly close to your Flower. Oh, and you are going to pay them to do it. Once you go there with a waxer - you're as close as you can get to someone without a hangover and the hope of avoiding them at next year's sales conference.

When I married Mr. News Readin' and left New York, I think I cried more about leaving Anka than my family and friends. I had no idea how I was going to deal. Solution: my garden would have to be maintained on a bi-monthly basis by taking the JetBlue red-eye from Denver to JFK. It was the only option.

Mr. News Readin', although appreciative of the maintenance plan, did not think going to New York to tidy things up was cost effective. He told me to find a spa in Denver that does brazilians. So, I drove three hours to have wax poured on me by a perfect stranger.

There I am, in a stupid paper thong and some teenager walks in carrying a pot of wax.
Our girl, then proceeds to tell me she has never had a bikini wax. Wait? What? Never had a brazilian? Nope. Never had a BIKINI wax.

Peace Out. Seriously. I hopped off the table and told her she could do my eyebrows while I watch like a hawk in a handheld mirror. But, I'll be damned if I was going to let her ruin what my Eastern Block angel had created down there.

It took a few trips back to New York and a visit to a trannie/stripper/aesthetician in some effed up looking salon in Denver to keep me "in order" that first year. When we moved to the City in Two States, I found a Canadian who had worked in Vegas, and did a decent job. Her skills still paled in comparison to Anka's. She did however introduce me to this:




No Scream Cream. It's kind of messy, but if you are a massive baby (like yours truly) it takes the edge off. Vitamin Xanax and a glass of Pinot Noir has a similar effect - but we don't want them to have to break out the smelling salts to get us off the table. So, go with the cream.

It's time though, to find someone in City K who will never measure up to Anka.

I've canvased a few Junior Leaguers to see if anyone had any recommendations. The looks of shock I received were amusing.

"You get a brazilian?"
"Yep."
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"It sure doesn't tickle."

Needless to say, fruitless. So, I'm going to drive to a city about 2 hours away, to visit the waxer to that fair city's finest strippers. (They obviously know what the hell they're doing...) And don't ask me how I found this waxer. I'm the wife of a newsman. I've got sources.

Speaking of the Mr. News Readin'...if he's lucky maybe I'll get a heart-shape for our anniversary...

Stay tuned.

Confessions of News Readin' Wife

You know you're a bad News Readin' Wife when this happens...

Picture it - the copy room - 9:30 am

Co-worker: Saw your husband last night. He had on a great looking tie.

Mrs. News Readin': Oh, you did? Where?

Co-worker: On the news. (Awkward pause) You did know that's where he was last night.

Mrs. News Readin': Of course - the news. Right. Thanks for watching. (nervous laugh)

And...scene.

Just some notes on that little performance:

• She thought she was letting the cat out of the bag...like he's been moonlighting and I had no idea. Oy.
  
• Now she thinks we have some weird open marriage, live separate lives and only attend high profile events together.
• Wait. We don't go to high profile events.
• WTF. Why would I thank her for watching?! Sometimes I'm so awkward. Ugh.

And for the record, yes I did know where he was last night. I watched the 6:00 pm newscast.

I just always forget that other people can see him in the magic box, too.

But not a clue as to what tie he was wearing...damn. I need to be a better News Readin' Wife.

Summers in Northern Michigan?

Dear Kid Rock,

I'm sure summers in Northern Michigan were awesome. I'm sure you hooked up with a lot of morally lenient girls, smoked a bunch of pot and drank gallons of Jack Daniels.

But did you have to write a song about it?

Frankly Kid, All Summer Long is well...lame. And might I add - super embarrassing for Lynard Skynard. Dragging the anthem of Southern Rock, Sweet Home Alabama down with you?

Not cool. Not cool, at all.

To make matters worse, it's Top 40 and on the radio ALL THE TIME.

Is that bad ass rockin'? No my friend, it is most definitely NOT bad ass rockin'.

Go get yourself a new track suit or even just spruce up an old wife beater, find a nice exotic dancer to keep you company on the tour bus and let's put this behind us. Okay?

Thanks, man.

Mrs. News Readin'

Who Needs James Lipton....?

(I know this is Will Farrell.)

...to ask a few questions and get at the inner workings of Mrs. News Readin' and the inside voice?

One Fabulous Mom certainly does not! She posted her answers to the infamous questions asked by James Lipton on Inside the Actor's Studio a few days ago and I loved reading them!

Here we go:

1. What is your favorite word? Divine

2. What is your least favorite word? Moist

3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? A gorgeous vista - mountains, ocean or other

4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally? People that can't get out of the box

5. What sound or noise do you love? Crickets on a summer night

6. What sound or noise do you hate? Balloons popping

7. What is your favorite curse word? Fucking as an adjective or adverb

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Actress

9. What profession would you not like to do? Hair stylist - wet hair - gross.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

I would like to hear, "Hey! Way to pull it together in the end!"

But I'm pretty confident I'll hear, "Surprised? I know - we didn't think you'd be here either."

What are your answers? Do tell...

Black Hole Bust

Yay! We made it...

So pleased we didn't get sucked into a black hole last night. That would have been awful.

And I'm really glad I didn't postpone picking up the dry cleaning. Don't get me wrong - I toyed with the idea.

I figured if it all went bad, then at least I wouldn't be out $200 in chemical laundering - because I'm too lazy to buy more Dryel sheets.

But then I thought, what if we start getting sucked in and the only person to cover it is Mr. News Readin'?

His Big Break and he wouldn't have a lightly starched, white Thomas Pink shirt waiting for him in the closet?!

Ughh. I would be hurling myself into the damn hole to escape the complaining.

We now return to our regularly scheduled program.