The Beatles vs. The Rolling Stones

So, I'm sure you've all heard the old axiom, you are either a Beatle or a Rolling Stone, and that describes your character, or other some such nonsense. I have always said that I am both, and have refused to choose.

The other day on my way to work I was thinking about this. Since I have a 30-minute commute, I often have time to ponder inconsequential things, and I often do just that. Anyhoo, I decided on that day which one I am.

I am a Rolling Stone.

Here is how I figured out who I was: I asked myself, does either group have at least one song in their canon that I simply could not live without hearing again for as long as I should live. As much as I love the Beatles, John Lennon and Across the Universe, I have to say that the Stones edge them out for me ever so slightly.

While I love "Eleanor Rigby," "Yesterday," "All You Need Is Love," "Day Tripper," "Revolution," "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds" and many more, I could deal with never hearing any of them again if I had to.

However, I could not live with never again hearing "Paint It Black," "Mother's Little Helper," "Under My Thumb," "Ruby Tuesday," "Sympathy for the Devil" and "You Can't Always Get What You Want" (and many more, but these especially).

So, there you have it. I am a Rolling Stone. Feel free to share what you are in the comments :)

Misheard Song Lyrics

I know this topic is, like, sooooo 5 years ago, but I wanted to write on it anyway. The other day, I heard Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name" on the radio. From now on it will always remind me of that day about a year ago when Sam and I were driving somewhere and the song came on so I started singing.

There's the part where Jon goes: "Oh, you're a loaded gun. Oh, there're nowhere to run. No one can save you, the damage is done." I thought he said, "Oh, your love is young," like he is making fun of her naivetee in all things romantic. Sam heard me sing that, made fun of me, and told me what the real lyric was. Now, whenever that song comes on, he sings at the top of his lungs: "Oh, your love is young."

I hope all of you will now too.

Let's Talk Weather

As Tropical Storm Fay lingers, it got me to thinking about some storm-related things:

• I hate it when newscasters say, "There is quite a bit of weather going on outside." There is always WEATHER outside, you nincompoops. There is NASTY weather at the moment. Let's not forget our adjectives.
• I realized that I like only 3 newscasters, in this order: Martie Salt, Bob Frier and Lauren Rowe. The rest grate on my nerves. And don't even get me started on the peeps at FOX news. OMG. It's like a high-school news team. Especially the main anchors. They are so opinionated and partial, I can't watch for more than 60 seconds — until the first snide comment comes and I have to turn it off.
• The exception to the awful FOX news people is roving reporter Patrick Pegues. He's a cool dude in my book, and I am glad he is getting some meaty stories to report. I am a bit biased, since I've met him on a few occasions because of Steph and Rob. He was at my table during Steph's wedding reception, and we've both attended cookouts at the Hodge's on occasion, and he is a super-nice and funny guy.
• Because of the high winds, almost all of the billboards along I-4 on my way to work have been taken down. Halleluiah! It's been so refreshing to not be bombarded with useless info and gaudy graphics on the way to work all this week. Why can't we always have high winds?
• Tony Manolfi is the biggest douche for interrupting the end of the men's 20o meter medal race with a redundant weather update. Yes, he waited for Usain Bolt to cross the finish line before he came in with the update (which was basically the same update as 10 minutes prior), but we missed all the afterglow of Bolt winning the gold and beating the world record. We missed the excitement and the joy of the crazed announcers as they celebrated along with Bolt.
• That is all ... for now
  

Best Spam E-Mail Subject Line Ever

Britney Spears Shoots Down American Spy Satellite With Her Vagina

OFFICIAL Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince Trailer!!

6 of My Quirks

A few weeks ago, I was tagged by my friend Cricket to list 6 of my quirks on my blog. I just now saw that post, so I am going to commence listing now:

1. I can't keep my hands off my face. Whether I am tugging on my lip, picking at a dry spot, picking/scratching my eyes, smoothing my eyebrows — if I am doing something, usually something that requires concentration, you'll see my fingers touching some aspect of my face. Can't help it.

2. In my opinion, my dog children are and always will be way more awesome than your human children.

3. I proofread everything — billboards, magazines, newspapers, menus, other people's e-mails, the writing on the screen during newscasts. It's amazing how many people suck with the English language. I know some mistakes are due to being a hurry, like e-mails and personal blogs, but there is no excuse when I find a newscast or menu mistake, and the like.

4. No matter what I am doing, if I can feel that an article of my clothing is bunching or crinkling, I have to fix it. I can be sleeping and my shirt will ride up a bit, and I will wake up and pull it down and smooth it out. I smooth out the pillow constantly, so I don't feel wrinkles on the side of my face. I constantly tug at and smooth my shirt, front and back, when I am driving to work in the morning. If I weren't so fearful of dying in a car wreck, I probably wouldn't wear my seat belt, because it tends to gather my shirt in a way that makes me really aware and uncomfortable until I can fix it.

5. My underwear and bra must match what I am wearing.

6. I cannot drink beer from a can. I will throw up, or gag a whole lot. Just the thought of beer and aluminum gives me the heebie-jeebies.

I know I have more, but that's all you guys are gonna get. :)

Blog Cleaning

Well, I have gone through a sort of blog cleaning. What started out as a personal blog has veered into celeb territory. While I will occasionally mention celebs, since they do have something to do with my life because of my columnist jobs, I'm going to try to keep this blog personal. If it starts to get too much, I'll start a Celebrity Extra blog too, but until then, I'm going to try to keep that at the office and reserve this space for personal blogging.

There. I feel better now.

A Piece of Idiot Cake

A Dunkin Donuts ad featuring Rachael Ray was pulled after conservative commentators argued the talk show host's scarf implied support of Muslim extremism.

The online ad was taken down this weekend because of "the possibility of misperception detracted from its original intention to promote our iced coffee," the company said in a statement.

Conservatives like Michelle Malkin contended Ray's black-and-white scarf looked like the traditional Arab headdress called a kaffiyeh. They said the scarf appeared to show support for terrorism.

Malkin wrote that the kaffiyeh "has come to symbolize murderous Palestinian jihad."

The company responded: "Absolutely no symbolism was intended."

***

This takes the cake in idiocy. Which other conservative commentators? I wonder which ones ... Rush, Sean, Bill ... fess up!

I'd drop the ad just because the scarf looks like she cut up Dylan McKay's old baja pullover and placed it around her neck, but to say it supports terrorism?!?! Makes me wonder what has become of this country sometimes, but I am usually too afraid to ask.

My Column Gets (Uncredited) Mention in OK! Magazine

Last night, I was perusing OK! Magazine online, because I wanted to read the recent interview with former heartthrob (and my former future husband) Kirk Cameron.

I noticed a link entitled: Melrose Place: Where Are They Now? You can bet that piqued my interest, so I clicky-clicked the link. It's a fun little article, fun to see what Michael Mancini and Jane Mancini and others have been up to, and what they look like. I was sad to see "Grizzly Man" Grant Show. Man, I hope that was for an acting role.

Anyhoo, imagine my surprise when I get to Laura Leighton's photo spread and see that they quoted from my Aug. 17, 2007, interview, but failed to credit me or Daytime Dial. Bastards!

http://www.okmagazine.com/pixandvids/gallery/5795/13

Melrose Place: Where Are They Now?

Then: Laura Leighton joined the show during its second season and played scheming Sydney Andrews, the younger sister of Jane Mancini. In a 2007 interview Laura reflected on her Melrose Place years. "Sydney was so much fun to play," she said. "I really dug the character; I could see there was so much potential there. It was definitely the right time for that character to come on to the show."

However, it is still pretty exciting. See, my column DOES matter!

Now, all of you peeps who have a blog, make a link in your blog mentioning this, so maybe somewhere in the blogosphere, I'll get due credit!

The Optimist

I never considered myself to be an optimist. However, I am not exactly a pessimist either -- I am somewhere in between. Lately, though, I have been excited about all the Old-Things-New-Again trend.


Yes, I am excited by the prospect of a 90210 spin-off. I am excited that Jennie Garth is returning as a guidance counselor at West Beverly High. I hope Ian Ziering gets a part on the show, so we aren't subject to anymore roles where he plays a Spanish explorer named "Cortes." Jason Priestley has a fairly new baby and a wife to support, and with the cancellation of his show, Side Order of Life, he could use the work. As I know from firsthand knowledge (name-dropper Cindy), he really enjoyed his experience on the show and most of the people involved, and I don't think he'd be adverse to a reunion.

I am sure Tori Spelling would do most anything to have her mug on TV again. And Luke Perry ... dreamy Luke Perry ... I just want to see him brood once more, this time, with feeling! And word has it that he has been approached by the show's producers, so, you never know!

I know, the "magic" of the old show can't ever be duplicated. I'm not sure what to make of Uncle Jesse's wife on the show -- and I really am confused by the great Jessica Walter being in the cast. Hopefully that says good things for the show in general.

Check back with me after the first show airs in the fall on the CW.

*******

Changing gears: I almost peed my pants when I saw the new trailer for X-Files 2: I Want to Believe. I want to believe it will be good, and I want to believe it will renew my love for David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. I have high hopes that it will come through for me. You know where I'll be July 25th.

Check it out for yourself and see:

The Creepiness of "Don't Wanna Miss a Thing"

OK, I know this is old news, but watching American Idol last night sparked my memory when David Cook sang Aerosmith's "Don't Wanna Miss a Thing."

How grody is it that the song was used in the movie Armageddon as the love song between Liv Tyler's character and Ben Affleck's character? I mean, do you really want your father (Steven Tyler) to be singing the song that is playing in the background while your character is making love to her boyfriend?!?

CREEPY!!!!

My Sentiments Exactly

This is a column written by Rheta Grimsley Johnson, an awesome lady and a wonderful writer. I might be a bit biased because I was her editor for quite a few years at King Features, but, no matter.

The following column describes exactly how I feel; it's almost as if she read my mind!

HAPPY NOT A MOTHER DAY!
BY RHETA GRIMSLEY JOHNSON

I am not a mother. They don’t make a card for that, or assign a special day for women who are not mothers.

Hallmark should reconsider. Not being a mother is an important designation, at least from the perspective of all the women who are themselves mothers.

It seems to bother mothers that some of us are not. They remind us a lot of what we’re not.

“Oh, but you are not a mother,” a mother will say when I voice support for public schools or against censorship of certain books. “You are not a mother, so you really don’t know what you’d do about school/dating/haircuts/going into debt for toys.”

Both my sisters, who are mothers, have gently reminded me on at least a hundred occasions. I am not a mother. So I can’t know real love. I can’t begin to understand pain. I can’t experience the deepest joy there is in this life.

Because I’m not a mother I always give inappropriate gifts to my nieces and nephews. Real shark jaws from Biloxi. Wool, hand-knit, dry-clean-only sweaters emblazoned with dinosaurs. Pocket knives. Puppies.

Dogs are an important part of my life, but only, I’ve been told more than once, because I am not a mother.

“You’re not a mother, and a dog, of course, is a child substitute.” (A darn good one, I might add.)

I’ve thought about marketing a line of cards for Not A Mother Day. There could be cute cartoon art, a woman who looks carefree and selfish and unconcerned about evil influences that abound in the world:

I don’t worry about global warming, or other things that might be harming
The world we’re leaving behind for John and Sue.
Not my problem, it’s up to you!
Happy Not a Mother Day!

Or maybe one with a sad-looking woman leading a small boy by the hand and the words: Dog Substitute.

My advanced age mercifully has stopped the rude question non-mothers hear a lot when they are young enough to be potential mothers. “Aren’t you ever planning on having children? Your biological clock is ticking.”

Mine never was wound.

A lot of women can’t conceive of not conceiving. Until the whole world convenes at a baby boutique, there can be no peace.

For years I tried to avoid discussions of what Margaret Mitchell once called “birthing babies.” The stories inevitably came up whenever two or more mothers gathered for a good time. The childbirth tales always involved repulsively graphic descriptions of torturous pain. They often came with photo illustrations.

I’ll admit to being squeamish. When the stories began, I’d flee, the only natural response. One of the mothers would smile a pitying smile and explain to the others, “She’s not a mother.”

The lot of Not Mothers improves with age. We become less suspicious. We seem less reckless and hedonistic. For a few years, given our seniority, we may even voice a few timid opinions.

Then, one day, when we least expect it -- there is not much frame of reference when you’re not a mother -- a new status is bestowed. Friends meet for lunch and someone brings out a pastel photo album.

“You’ll just have to indulge me,” she says in a patronizing tone. “You’re not a grandmother."

BTW, buy Rheta's new book, Poor Man's Provence here.

PUPPIES!

I am going to open this blog with a puppy post, naturally. The following was made by John Enos III (Melrose Place, The Young and the Restless). I interviewed him for my Daytime Dial column and he told me about these cute mini-movies that he makes and posts on YouTube. Many star his Chihuahua, Duke. Check it out: