People Magazine Confirms I'm Not Crazy

People magazine names Matt Damon the Sexiest Man Alive. That is until next year. Thanks to this publication for making my creepy dream not so creepy anymore. Though like I predicted, the tingly feelings from the dream have subsided and I'm able to think of him without blushing like a school girl.

Though I did have a dream about John Krasinski last night. I won't go into details, but let's say it involved me, him, a shower, and a backpack. Oh yeah, that's right. I'll let you fill in the blanks. That's what she said.

Where's My Burrito! Where's My Burrito!

I suppose that's the extent of my participation in the writer's strike. But then again, am I crossing a picket line by writing something for entertainment purposes? What if because of this strike I'm recruited to write some hilarious original material and paid millions of dollars? Will I be shunned by highly respected members of the WGA?

Well, if my some amazing course of events, I get the million dollar deal, I'm set for life, so screw the shun. I'd be more concerned about my Dad finding out I crossed a picket like. Oh, he'll do the "You're an adult. I can't tell you what to do." thing. But it's in his eyes. His Democrat, union boss, Catholic eyes.

But I digress. I haven't developed a full opinion about this strike. I bet by the time I form one, the issue will be resolved. All I care about is how this whole ordeal affects me. I have two directions in this matter. My original programming has been taken from me. I now have to suffer more reality TV. Booooo!

Then again, now the opportunity to catch up on excellent shows I didn't watch during their original airings. Or even better, now I get get off my duff and lose that extra twenty or so pounds. Mmmmmm, Duff. I guess I'll just pop in some reruns of The Simpsons until this matter gets resolved. I'll start with that episode with Last Exit to Springfield. It's only appropriate.

If The Costume Fits

Something awesome this way comes. Yeah baby, I'm making up for lost times with Halloween. I didn't bother when I was younger. I don't eat candy, so trick or treating was pointless. And I didn't want to dress up like a princess. Again.

Halloween is the time to release your inner whore. At least that's the explanation I give to all the costumes women typically wear. That doesn't work for me. I'm a larger than average girl. Though I am working on it. As soon as I finish this double cheeseburger. I've reached this point where I want to dress up for Halloween. But I can't go out all slutted up. I know I'm no meant to do that (for now, damn delicious burgers). So I have to go the awesome route. Creativity has to compensate for boobs.

It started three Halloweens ago. I showed up in in a white men's dress shirt and sunglasses. Yes, slutish, but it was a three person, watching movies party. But even more important was my concept. I wasn't Tom Cruise from Risky Business. No, no. I was David Arquette from Never Been Kissed dressed up like Tom Cruise from Risky Business. Yeah baby, loophole. Though confession time: I wanted to make my boyfriend squirm. I was pantsless and he couldn't touch me. Hehe, yeah I suck.

Next year was a little different. A bigger party but still among friends. I donned a mustache. Sharpie was helpful. Bigger and better. I was Norm Macdonald doing Burt Reynolds auditioning for Darth Vader. You still there? I even had the helmet.

Seriously in character: I chewed gum and did the laugh all night.

Last year I decided do throw my heart into it. It was such a natural selection it flew off the tip of my tongue and I never regretted the decision. It took several weekends collaborating with my boyfriend's mom, a trip to Lowes, Old Navy, Target, and some time on ebay. For all the time and effort, it turned out quite beautifully. I was invited to a large party thrown by my friend, so naturally I had to make an entrance. All decked out I walked in as: Duffman.

Oh Yeah! Need I say more?

And when his trademark song came on, I did the dance. Yes, there is video evidence of me thrusting through the whole song. That will come back to haunt me. I should send out a special thank you to Zack Birkenbuel. He had a website that showed step by step how to put together the costume. Visit the step by step here. Thank you Zack and God bless the internet!

Okay, a new year, a new idea. As you can see, I have craved out a pretty hard series of acts to follow. But I've set myself up for a pretty good costume. Wait for it.....Dr. Zoidberg from Futurama.....as Jesus!

I know, I'm going to hell.

I only threw in the Jesus part so I can use my own hair. I don't do bald caps and makeup. I've got a mask and some claws. It's quite good. Cost me about a third of the Duffman costume and only took about four days to make. Good times. Can't wait to unveil this one. I'm with the right crowd, so they'll get it.

So what about next year? I know I shouldn't worry about it yet, but bigger and better gets hard. Maybe I'll reboot and start fresh and not so difficult. Then again I might end up as Rob Schneider as a stapler. (Shut up! My friends get it.)

Too Much Anatomy

This fall season sees a challenge in my schedule. What? The Office and Grey's Anatomy on at the same time. You're right. This isn't a problem. TV on DVD makes it easier to miss out. In fact buying sets when you've already seen all of the episodes make the purchase sort lame and pointless.

But there's bigger reason that I chose not to waste my time with Grey's Anatomy. Oh, let me clarify. I will not watch live episodes. I fully intend to waste my life watching episodes online. But the reason for the change? I don't care about any of them. Or anyone that is left.

It makes me sad to admit it, but think about it. Who were the best members? Burke and Christina were my favorite couple. First off, they were only with one another. Everyone else, seems to have a count of two or higher with regular cast members. Now he's gone and she's just hard core surgeon girl. That only works with someone to soften her and take her down a few notches. No notches down, no respect for her.

Bailey has gone soft. I miss her being hard core. Her hardness was different and enjoyable. And now it's dead.

Addison is now in California. Popular enough to get her own show. But needed these characters around her to make her popular in the first place. Good luck and all, but please feel free to come crawling back if the situation should present itself.

And finally Callie. Liked George but would not put up with his shit. Awesome girl. Married George and now eats his shit. Really? It was good when you recognized the boy when no one else did. Now he has Blondie after him and so he's gone in a heartbeat. Or in an ejaculation as the case is. (Yes, yes, there in love. Or something. Don't care because you ruined Torres. Screw your love.)

Sex with this guy? Seriously? Okay, that was mean. But come on. Seriously?

And those were the good people. They have polluted everyone else even more so because everyone has slept with everyone. Honestly, who would have though George would be winning the sex category with Callie, Izzie, and Meredith (and as a bonus, Nurse Olivia)?

And this is why The Office will get my watching loyalty. But of course I will have to get my rich, pretty people with problems fix. When I get the need, I know where to find you.

Hustle and Fries

I must have been doing very well on my diet. Even though it's been around for a while, it is only recently that I noticed the new design on the Burger King fries box and soda cups. There I was at eleven at night (okay, diet is out the window) only a few days ago mesmerized by the "fry pod" design. Then a strange sensation came over me. Why does this make me think of Get Rich or Die Tryin'? I verbalized my concern to my boyfriend and he kindly responded "Uhh....because the fries cost 50 Cent?" Though the response made me chuckle, the issue still pressed.

As it turns out, the answer to that question is twofold. In the late stages of the night, my memory of pop culture deteriorates. I had confused the 2005 movie Get Rich or Die Tryin' that had the story of a guy trying to escape a bad life for himself as a drug dealer and make something of himself as a rapper, featuring Terrance Howard, and Hustle & Flow, the 2005 movie of about Terrance Howard trying to escape a bad life as a pimp and make something of himself as an emcee.

I understand if those who read this are offended by my mixing up the two movies. I, myself get deeply upset at those who mistake Dermot Mulroney and Dylan McDermutt. And don't even talk to me if you can't get straight Nick Nolte and Gary Busey.

The second half of the answer is that the design of the "fry pod" looked like the poster for Hustle & Flow. I pointed this out to my brother and he showed me the signature on the back. The design came from Sean John, P. Diddy's clothing line. I must say that I really have a hard tine associating the music mogul with cheap burgers. But if this happened, perhaps those responsible for the Hustle & Flow posters are also the ones that worked on this Burger King design.


I bet the movie would have tanked if they replaced Terrance Howard with a triple bacon cheeseburger. And why do the fries only get second billing?



My research was extensive. I typed "Hustle and Flow poster and Burger King" into Google and crossed my fingers. Nothing came up that would answer my question. Then it suddenly came to me. I don't care all that much. I made the association. I think that's as far as it goes. I suppose I could end with a "It's hard out there for a Burger pimp" comment, but that's not funny. I'll just let the 50 Cent joke provide sufficient smiles for this round.

While Visions Of Matt Damon Danced In My Head

That's right ladies and gentlemen. Take off your prude caps and listen up. Last night I had the elusive celebrity sex dream.

It started off with me trying to get at Jason Segel. (Since seeing Knocked Up, I've decided he will fill in a place of My List of Five. I haven't yet decided though who he'll replace. After the fall TV season starts, it'll be an easier task. Also, I am currently harboring an awkward crush on Simon Pegg, so we have to work through that before we start editing the list.) It didn't get very far. He was just there and I just wanted to be there with him. In...you know...THAT way. He's hot and actually not very far in age from me. I know I usually like them in their forties, but hey, maybe I'm maturing. (If that makes sense.)

Then for some reason there is a shift in time and it happens. I'm in the same room as Matt Damon. It's strange because I'm aware he's Matt Damon. But there is this thing in the air where I'm in the mind-frame of a teenager with a huge crush on the star quarterback. (Because let's face it, celebrities are just metaphorically the quarterbacks and cheerleaders in the high school of life.) So I have this incredible longing in my chest just to be near him. I loved him. In the way that makes people afraid because we don't want to get hurt by loving someone who does not love us back. (Or at least I don't.) I started to miss that feeling in real life. Not the fear. That is terrifying to live with. The rush you get when you put your heart out there and as it turns out he loves you just as much. That's what happened. He loved me. One of the most important parts of the dream I remember is the first time he reaches his hand out to me. He's afraid too. And I take it. Suddenly there is nothing but happiness. And then comes the sex.

Just so we're clear, it was the visions that were dancing in my head, not Matt Damon.

All right, I'm not going to lie or embellish. There was implied sex. I know because my clothes were missing at one point. This was actually kind of funny. We have to sneak around because our relationship can't get out to the public. It's like we're in a dorm area or something. Some guy we know comes around to his door and I sneak into his friend's spot and pretend that I'm dating him instead. Yeah, it's Ben Affleck.

Even weirder is there's this one part where we're together and people are coming to meet him. So he goes to head them off so I can make it seem as though we weren't together. I'm left with no car so I just start to walk to wherever it is. Finally this car pulls around with the group. For some reason I see my "brother" (I use quotes because in the dream he's played by Ralph Macchio. I knew that cameo in Entourage would get him back in the spotlight.) in the car and they are all worried. I've been missing and they were out trying to find me. I get into the car and Matt is crying. I guess he was truly scared because he didn't know where I was. Strange, but in the beginnings of a relationship, it's incredibly sweet.

Sadly, I was woken prematurely before the story could progress beyond hiding in Ben Affleck's dorm room. (He did have a girl in there with him, so it made things a little harder to keep up the farce. But that's what friends are for.) This is the part that makes me a little sick though. Yeah, in he celebrity world, privacy is a sacred thing. We didn't want news of our love to get out. But towards the end of my dream I blatantly remember thinking "I hope this doesn't get out to his wife." Stupid reality meshed with my dream. So now I'm a home wrecker. Maybe it was a good time to get out of the dream before my home wrecking ways did some serious damage. Or at least damage with consequences that I had to see. (I want to get one thing straight. I don't believe anything can excuse or justify cheating or affairs. In real life, if I had a chance with Matt Damon, I would never do anything to hurt his family or my own. But in the crazy dream world where rules and being a good person goes out the window, I'd be selfish for the love I had. For all I know, in dream world, she was a whore first. And my boyfriend didn't exist. So stop judging my dream whorishness.)

Now considering I've read the Forbes article, he's on the cover of Entertainment Weekly, and just for a giggle I shout out MATT DAMON a la Team America, it should be no surprise that he appeared in on of my dreams. I like him, I think he ranks high on the awesome meter, but I don't like him that way. Well, that is I didn't until waking up flushed and cursing my job keeping me from continuing my existence as Matt Damon's girl. It's scary because for the rest of the day I felt as if I was blushing. As if everyone at work knew what I had dreamed. And now I have this lingering obsession/crush that rivals the one my niece has on Daniel Radcliffe (Or Harry Potter. It's really hard to tell who she has a thing for.) I hate feeling so childish. But I know that if I give this a couple of days, it'll wear off. I damn the internet that allows me to look up his life story so easily. Dear God, please send me something new to obsess about. Maybe if I watch Stuck on You, it'll die down. Lord knows Greg Kinnear can ruin just about anything. Even Matt Damon.

Harry Pottter and the Freaking Five Hours at Borders

Warning: This article may contain spoilers if you read too much into everything.

For some reason I think I should be doing these things. That I would be part of history if I stand and wait until the stroke of midnight for the first wave of books released. My boss told me that at my age, I should be waiting for something like concert tickets. He's right. But I don't do concerts. Now when The Simpsons Movie comes out you can be sure I'll be at the midnight screening in costume. (Seriously. If hobbit and wizard geeks get to do, then I can show up in a theater dressed up as Duffman.) I was out to get the book right away for two very specific reasons. One, I do not want to have the ending spoiled for me. Damn internet has damn blabbermouths. Used to be you could shut yourself in and didn't have to listen to those you did not want to. But now some guy in New Jersey can put something on the internet and while I look up what episode of Law & Order is on tonight, I see tonight's mini marathon involves an homage to Jerry Orbach and Harry Potter may they rest in peace. Wait, what? That might sound crazy, but it has a Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon quality to it and on the internet, it can make sense. Especially in New Jersey.

All I have to do now is avoid the spoilers for The Sopranos and I'm set.

Two, for some reason, I must finish this book before my eleven year old niece. Why? I don't know exactly. The sad pathetic answer is that I'm an adult and I should have access to and get to do fun things before she can. I must know how it ends before she does. I saw the fourth movie before her and I HAVE to read the last book before her. Petty, sad, yes. But true.

That's it. For that reason I got to Borders at 9:30PM and thanks to some sort of line system (involving colored bracelets and numbers) I'm still trying to understand, ended up leaving with my book at 2AM. There was supposed to be some sort of party thing with a spelling bee and costume contest or something. I don't know, I was looking forward to the festivities but instead just ended up ducking into one section of the bookstore at a time wherever there was space and gabbed what sounded interesting off the shelves. I felt bad for the mess left for the store staff (Not left by me. I've worked in customer service. People can be bastards, really. I refuse to be that bastard.) It ate up my weekend, but I finished it. I'm not a die hard fan, but I will say that it's good storytelling. That is hard to find. I didn't get the ending spoiled. I think that's the important part. And yes, I did beat my niece to the ending. Whooo, I can read faster than a fifth grader (well, sixth in the fall). Someone sign me up for that show.