The TeeVee is dumbing me up.

The weather people this worming were gushing about how it is going to be so much cooler today. Only 110! (Yesterday was 115.) But then, I think the news people are more frantic in general cause nobody watches them anymore, now that we watch TIVO. They are sort of desperate and scary. (Scary mostly cause of all the huge fake boobies aggressively wrestling their way out of tiny tops while they try to read the news. Is super professional.)

Sorry. But I have been watching all kinds of TV lately. TV during the day. Stuff not on TIVO. Even commercials. I'm not proud of it, but it can't be helped. It has prompted me to think: who watches The View? Is horrendous. Truly horrid. Like a circus side show. I wouldn't be surprised if one of those angry, ignorant ladies decided to eat fire or grow a beard. 

And what is up with this Wendy Williams Show? Is she kidding? Is she really a she? I can't tell.

And did you know Kathy Lee is back on TV? Yes, she totally is! Is unbelievable! She has some dog and pony show she does with another lady named Hoda, who looks like she got demoted from Good Morning America or similar, and is willing to be Kathy Lee's slave so she won't be sent back to wherever she came from in defeat, admitting her career has been flushed. Today they were dressed up in western gear and acting like clowns in San Antonio, drinking beers at like 7 am.

The commercials are horrifying. Have you seen the one for The Hartford insurance, that asks "What if you are in a car accident? Who is going to walk your dog?" Apparently, THEY will. They are taking MY insurance premiums  (if I had a policy with The Hartford, which I don't, and now never will have, on principle) to pay for dog walking. Not only that, they think enough people will find this idea so super fantastic, that they are paying lots of money to run ads about it. Seriously, people? We need dog-walking insurance now? I say nay!

Plus, last night I got super desperate, and decided to watch The Bachelorette finale, even though I hadn't seen the rest of the show. It was surprisingly easy to catch up. Lots of boys with lots of rings, probably looking for modeling careers more than love. What was up with the wedding dress? Why? And all the legs wrapped around all the boys? And all the making out with everybody? Yickety-yick. Yick.  I seriously cannot deal with all the extreme trampiness, stupidity, and completely scripted soap opera style pathos. Although, watching a girl get chased by good-looking men is infinitely preferable to seeing ladies slutting it up over some bleachy-toothed, lying loser (The Bachelor).

In the future, when someone writes a "Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire" equivalent for America, I think Whoopi Goldberg, Kathy Lee Gifford, The Bachelorette, and dog-walking insurance will have their own footnotes. (In the chapter entitled "If the Puritans could see us now!")

I haven't started watching any Soaps yet. Maybe after I have seen everything on HGTV twice. But probly not.

Anyhow, I feel bloated and gassy with pop culture. And, you might have noticed, medium-angry. I started to feel like my brain was rotting, so I played sudoku on my iphone while I watched this morning. It didn't help. 

Plus, I tried moving up from VERY EASY to EASY puzzles, and it gave me a headache.

I think the TV is making me dumber. 

My Mom told me it would happen.

What have you seen lately that has left you more stupid?

What I got: a brand new iphone and a big 'ol crush on Rick Steves.

Well. Sunday was me birthiversary. 

Yep. Got birthed and hitched on the same day. 

Well, not the same day, exactly.

Two July 19ths. 23 years apart.

Jake got me an iphone for my birthday. Which is fun. I use it to play sudoku and try to best my 10-year-old son Ross' time on The Moron Test, since no one really calls me on it. I don't have a fantastic track record for actually carrying a phone on my person. Or hearing it ring from inside my purse.

Normally, you won't be able to ring me on my mobile. And don't bother leaving a message, cause I don't know how to retrieve them. I like texts, if I remember to check for them. But now that I have such fancy technology, which allows me to take videos of people picking their noses on the freeway, then send it to my blog, youtube, and email simultaneously, plus look at each person in my Ward's home from space (google maps on istake), I resolve to do better.

For our anniversary Jake got me ALL 80 EPISODES of Rick Steves' Europe. Jake says that he understands my attraction to Rick is purely physical, so he isn't threatened. Very much.

I know. Hubba. Look at him in that Members Only style jacket, leaning sexily on that column.

I have like all of Rick's books, so I think that means I am, in some not-so-circuitous fashion, helping to legalize marijuana, a cause dear to sweet little Ricky's heart.

I think I just have a thing for the bad boys.

(And geeks.)

Can't help it.

That's me and Jake at Versailles, with Rick's Paris 2007 guidebook under his arm. I loved that thing. When we got to the Louvre and found that we had left Rick back at the hotel, Jake went to the museum store, where he asked the American clerks if they carried any Rick. "Oh, you mean the bible?" they asked. But no luck. So Jake cabbed it WAY back down the Champs-Elysees, picked up Rick, and brought the Bible back to the Temple of Man, just for me.

What a nice boy, that Jake. I think I'll keep him around another 13 years, at least.

Do you think Rick has podcasts I can carry around with me on my iphone?

I'm gonna go and check that out.

You got an iphone?

You actually use your cell phone?

You like Rick Steves?

You hate Rick Steves?

You were there at my wedding?

You were there at my birth?

uninspired. and yogurt pants. and how to trick the UPS fella.

So, Jake moved my computer from the kitchen to the office. 

So that the kids' computer can be in the kitchen, and the kids can be permanently banned from the office, where they like to pretend they are an 80's hair band in a three-star hotel room. 

(They ransack it, almost daily.  Just spelling it out for you, in case my hair band metaphor wasn't super clear.)

Anyhow, so far I find the office rather uninspiring. Which could be why I haven't posted anything new in two weeks. But it could also be cause I've been gallivanting about Arizona (Payson, then Flagstaff).  And I'm trying to talk the family into a trip to Mt. Graham next week. My kids have never hiked ladybug saddle, which seems a shame. Plus, Phoenix is supposed to be 113 degrees this weekend, so why stay here? 

The office is not only uninspiring, but uncomfortable. Jake gave me the cruddy wooden chair, and he got the leather one.  At least I got a window seat.

I think they say that if you can't think of anything interesting to say, you should type lots of other stuff. 

Til you have to pee,

or you develop carpal tunnel,

or your backside goes numb cause your chair is horrible, hard, and spindly,

or you remember those generic twinkies you hid in your purse. Which is in another room.

(Don't ask.)

This morning, I asked the kids: So, who wants to go to Target and get some yoga pants?

(Also, don't ask why my current yoga pants have grease stains the shape of In-n-Out fries on them. Let's just pretend the old yoga pants are worn clean out from rigorous and zealous  yoga use, and have been stretched beyond their cottony-spandex limits by my constant and crazy bendiness.)

Tom replied: No, momma.  I do not want yogurt pants. 

Do you have a certain place you feel creative? 

Do you fervently believe that yoga pants are a 21st century version of the 1950s housecoat? Because they are awesome, and you can keep a rolled up yoga mat by the front door in case the UPS guy comes, and you can throw it under one arm before you answer the door? So he'll think you are very fit, and not slovenly?

I don't actually do this. I don't have a yoga mat. 

What do you wear around your casa?

Muu muus?

Hair in rollers with a kerchief?

Manolo Blahniks?