how do I get to be in the right place at the right time???

so after a fairly arduous day yesterday, I sat down in front of the TV just as my beloved Gilmore Girls was ending - which is never a problem since the inclusion of the DVR in my life, but in the ultimate act of laziness, I couldn't be bothered to even pull up the digital guide to see what else was on and decided to give One Tree Hill a shot. Lord knows its got a buzz and CMM is a total cutie. Here's what's amazing though, (it certainly wasn't the show, which even by my low WB teensploitation standards, was terrible) one of the female leads is played by Hilarie Burton. For those of you who actually watch TV your own age and avoid things like TRL, the name means nothing. But Hilarie was a student at NYU who one day went to a taping of TRL and was chosen to do a contest or request a video or some other such nonsense that gave her three minutes of face time on the show. MTV execs loved her presence and offered her a job as a VJ. Now she gets paid to snog CMM on a popular WB show. Please tell me how this is fair. (To her credit, she was a decent VJ, but she's a terrible actress).


In a somewhat related story, later last night, during halftime of the Knicks/Kings game I flipped on Oxygen to watch the Ellen Degeneris Show (which is quality TV) and Lauren Graham was her leading guest. Note to self: Do not watch Lauren Graham give anymore interviews. All it does is remind me that Lauren Graham is not Lorelai Gilmore. One is a total MILF the other, just dimwitted. Its really all very sad.

the coolest thing you could do today:

send some flowers to a random marrying gay couple in SF... HERE [link courtesy of NewYorkish]

your Tuesday's so fat...

It just occurred to me that the 24th is Ash Wednesday Eve, otherwise known as Mardi Gras.

In lieu of a last minute flight to N'awlins, any thoughts on some serious lecherous behavior?

"Guys have the Super Bowl, we have this,"

I've watched this show from day one, and on day one I thought that this show was irreverent and only slightly annoying. Six seasons later, I have found myself still watching a show that has transformed into the MOST annoying 30 minutes on television. Of course, as dreadfully annoying as the show is, it doesn't compare to the legions of women who follow this show with the religious fervor of Jim Baaker. When the show ends on Sunday, I might throw a party, not to mourn the loss of Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte in my life, but to celebrate the end of the effect this damned show has had. I no longer have to read or see trite interviews with thirtysomething women who believe themselves to be just like one of these characters and swear to have three other friends who neatly match the other three women on the show. Personally, being like Carrie Bradshaw would not be something I would want to scream from the mountaintops, but that might just be me. I no longer have to make women cosmopolitans by the pitcher. It will no longer be blasphemy to look at a shoe on a woman's foot and not be able to tell if its a Manolo Blahnik or a Jimmy Choo. And quite possibly people will stop regarding Patricia Field as a fashion goddess.

Call me a traitor to my gender. Call me a cynic. Call me a tomboy. But give me the Super Bowl over this anyday. Especially if it involves a great game, Janet Jackson's nipple, and a man dressed as a referee who strips naked and does a jig near the kicker.

(this next question, you should hear me asking aloud as you imagine me sitting on my bed typing on my i-mac laptop)

As we speed along this endless road to the destination called Sunday Night at 10pm, I can't help but whine, 'Are we there yet?'

cupid has it out for me:

I could go on and on about the Yankees and a-rod and the new rumor floating around that by the end of the week we could have Greg Maddox in pinstripes too, but I won't because everyone's talking about that.

Instead, I would like to ask you all why Valentine's day has become a deadly holiday for me. I need to explain, unlike most women I know, I don't particularly care one way or the other about Valentines day. (except it REALLY peeves me when people call it Valentime's day). In the year's that I was single, I didn't curse Cupid or couples and I might have worn black, but that's because I always wear black. (for me, black will always be the new black, but I digress). In the years that I have been paired, I've never dreamt of being swept away to someplace tropical, four dozen roses waiting for me on my desk at work, or any such nonsense.

But somewhere, somehow this holiday (or whatever you want to call it) has it out for me. Five years ago, I was lying on the floor all day, deeply drugged on percosets, with serious back spasms. Last year I was in the emergency room, getting x-rays due to slipping on some ice and getting a high-ankle sprain. And this year, vomiting. The whole day, due to food poisoning.

In other words, I give up. We had nothing special planned. Just a nice dinner out, a chance to appreciate each other in the midst of some serious hecticness in both of our lives. Instead, I made it to the couch, and could barely stomach water and tea.

I wonder when this madness will end...

take a good look at the diploma on the wall:

as most of you know by now I work for a large medical school located in the fair city of New York. (which shall remain nameless). Much like that episode of Seinfeld, we run these clinical exams where the students interview standardized patients (aka actors trained to play the role of a patient). One of the cases we do involves the students needing to take a sexual history of a 17 year old boy who is at the dr.s for a physical he needs for a lifegurarding job. yesterday, we ran a slew of these and i had the pleasure of sitting in on the following interview.

Medical Student: Hi. How are you today? I hear you want to be a lifeguard...
Standardized Patient: Yeah, I do, it seems like a cool summer job.
Medical Student: So do you masturbate?

seriously. i can't make this shit up. that was exactly the first three sentences of the interview. i am slowly collecting a list of names that if i ever see on a diploma when i walk into a doctors office, will have me turning on my heels and walking back out. god help us all if this is the future of medicine.

outdated, yes, but this is ridiculous.

for those of you who dont know, i used to work here and also here. Once, because my boss didn't want to do it, I got to fill out his grammy ballot. So, even though i know that the Grammy's have zilch to do with the actual talent/pulse of the artist/industry, i had to at least give it a shot last night. So after making myself comfortable, and watching another painful episode of Sex and the City, I switched channels. Lucky me, it was just in time for the Best Female Vocal award. And you guessed it - none other than June Carter Cash who won for Keep on the Sunny Side. Now I'm sorry, but wasn't this song originally released by the Carters in like 1927 or some shit like that? I mean I know that June passed away this year as did hubby Johnny, but come on people. really.

Promptly, I turned the grammys right back off.

some tough questions that need some answering (help me out here people)

1. Why is Tom Brady such a smug asshole and a damned good quarterback?
2. Did Adam Vinateri miss that first fieldgoal only to give me a small glimmer of hope that the panthers might win this thing?
3. Where can I get me a silver star nipple ring?
4. Will Justin Timberlake have me nekked by the end of this song?
5. Why are superbowl commercials no where near as good as they used to be?
6. How many calories can one person consume in 8 hours?
7. Did anyone actually watch Survivor All-Stars?
8. Do I need to add it to my season pass list on the DVR?
9. Does anyone feel that CBS really took the moral highroad by refusing to air the moveon.org commercial and but choosing MTV to once again produce the halftime show?
10. Why doesn't Hello Kitty have a mouth? No really, why doesn't she? I know this isn't superbowl related, but I was on the train this morning and there was a little girl wearing a hello kitty backpack and I got to wondering... Help a sister out.