Television is sick.

Our 61" big screen television is sick and has been admitted to the hospital. I'm about to go into rehab myself -- I miss the damn thing somethin' awful. BooBerry started to cry when she came into the living room from daycare and saw it gone. Might be a sure sign that your kid has a bona fide addiction to "Spongebob Squarepants" and "Maggie and the Ferocious Beast" ...

Still, as I sit here in silence (well, relative silence -- Bill is playing stupid freakin' World of Warcraft on his laptop. Ain't nuttin' sexier than the sound of Orcs devouring the souls of the living.), I can't help but feel like Laura Ingalls freakin' Wilder without the television.

Almanso was kinda hot, though ...

The Code of Dorkkurabi

We scored a Wii. Or, at least Bill did. He went out on his lunch break to Toys 'R Us and while perusing the Wii display, overheard the salesperson on the phone with a customer. Apparently, a jut of the chin and a nod was all he needed to know to learn that they had a few Wiis in stock.

Unfortunately, he was getting it for work (they take it apart and photograph the insides). There must be some internal code that mandates what he'll do to be a hero at work. Still, it's admirable. I'dve had that SOB on eBay within the hour of purchase.

It's on our dining room table, so there's still time until he takes it into work...

The human stomach is an amazing entity.

BREAKFAST
One slice of stuffed pizza from Papa Murphy's as we prepared our Pot Luck entries for Thanksgiving Bonanza 2006.

DINNER
Turkey
Dressing Balls (best thing since ... well, Stove Top)
Noodles with Worchestershire sauce
Mashed Potatoes and gravy
Green Beans
Corn Casserole
Rolls with butter
Pumpkin cheesecakse
Wine and Beer

DINNER
Three dressing balls dipped in barbecue sauce (WTF, but soooo tasty)
Hummus and pita
Bowl of mashed potatoes topped with noodles and Worchestershire sauce
More wine

I feel a double chin coming on already. Tomorrow? Water. And Ex-Lax. I might live a little and have Special K Protein Water. Woo hoo!!

MY GAME PLAN FOR BLACK FRIDAY
5 a.m. Up and into the shower (BTW, these people are effing nuts, and I'm about to become one of them!)
6 a.m. TARGET
6:45 a.m. WAL-MART
7:30 a.m. Oxmoor Mall
11 a.m. Linens N Things
12 a.m. Home for lunch and Nap with Boo Berry

Boxed wine ain't half bad.

Went to the Wal-Mart Neighborhood Grocery to pick up a bottle of wine to dull Bill's pain as I force him to watch "The Lake House" tonight after Boo Berry goes to bed. My attention was drawn not to the traditional bottles of vino but to the boxed wines in the back of the store, where a black package adorned with Harley-Davidson-esque flames and the logo, KILLER JUICE, stood out among the Franzia and other "harmless" varieties. So boxed wine thinks it can be cool, eh? Nay, even tough?

Well, maybe.

This shit ain't half bad. But I made the cashier double bag it so no one would see me toting boxed wine out of ... Wal-Mart.

UPDATE: Boxed wine serves its purpose as well as more expensive varities. I am officially feeling the effects.

Wiis, PS3s and the state of America.

I'm convinced the Republicans are behind the recent shortage of Wiis and PS3s. And probably Elmo friggin' TMX.

"Vote us out of the House and the Senate, will you? Well, take that American public! We'll restrict the number of over-priced gaming centers!! While you sit out in the cold, getting robbed and shot, in hopes of obtaining a ticket that will grant you access to the Boxed Gods of Video Gaming Joy, we'll smoke Cuban imports, sip aged brandy and list said boxes on eBay!!"

Yes, Bill was out this morning in fruitless pursuit of a Wii. He didn't get one, but it was so early, he brought home Egg McMuffins and hashbrowns. Slight redemption. He didn't even try for a PS3. Target had a line around the corner at 8:45 p.m. last night for the Wiis. Effing losers.

DAMN YOU, ELMO TMX!!!!!!!

Close. So very, very close. Almost got one at toysrus.com. Hit complete order and...

Nothing. Bastards.

The Top 10 Things I'm Loving Right Now.

10. Special K Protein Water. Because everyone wants to drink their meat.

9. Halloween candy. I think it's all gone, then somebody from the office dumps another bag into the community bowl. It's like trick or treating for a month.

8. Champagne. Damn this shit is good. Now I see why the stars always drink it. Just returned from a trip to New York City and expensive restaurants like to offset their overpriced filets and cocktails with free champagne. But, hey, it's free right?

7. Heroes. I can be a comic book dork and still look cool.

6. Gap's Product(RED) line. I can buy trendy overpriced clothes and know that half of it goes to help reduce AIDS in Africa. My hubby wonders why I just don't write a check to an AIDS foundation, but then I wouldn't be able to wear the same shirt that Oprah does, right?

5. Sugar snap peas. Dip them in hummus, and you have a nutritious treat. Plus, it cleans ya out, if you get my drift.

4. Google. An old friend Googled me (and how did "Google" get to be a verb, anyway?) and found my Amazon Wishlist. The one thing on it? That damn elusive Elmo T.M.X. How embarassing.

3. OK! magazine. It's like crack. I even do the crossword puzzle in the back. The size makes it hard to hide on my desk though.

2. Crocs. I know, I know. They're buttass ugly. But I saw Jude Law in a picture sportin' a pair of the Beach Crocs in silver in said magazine above. Of course, they were making fun of him ...

1. Benefit's BadGirl eyeliner crayon. How a Kentucky girl gets "smoky" eyes as seen in Glamour and Vogue without the legion of make-up artists it takes to create "the look." (Cue image of me as Gollum clutching "My Precious.")

Books You Need to Read Because I Say So

I've been a voracious reader my whole life. It's like TV, only without commercials. I like my books smutty with a side of murder, smothered and covered in wit. That translates to what the industry calls "romantic suspense," and those of us who like it want both –– enough smut to offset the gore, and enough gore to make it more than a Harlequin novel. Which I don't exactly dislike.

As of late, though, I've discovered the particular brand of writing that has been deemed "chick lit." These books usually have som garish font on the cover, like an oversized pink curlycue or script adorning a pink background with a pair of lacy shoes, a fluffy dog on a leash led by some stick-figured unseen woman or a purse. Some of these are good, very good. And some are utter crap. Still, the way these chicks are cranking them out is impressive. And it gives me something to read while I'm waiting for another smut book to hit the market.

Here are a few of my favorite new books:

Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster: My inspiration for starting to blog and perhaps the funniest woman I'll never meet. And technically this isn't chick lit, it's a biography of sorts, but I found myself reading it outloud to my husband while he played World of Warcraft with people he's never met online.

Size 12 is Not Fat by Meg Cabot: This is the beginning of a murder mystery series starring a former pop sensation-turned-residential assitant. Pretty cute stuff, and Cabot's writing is easy to digest. Size 14 Is Not Fat Either arrives soon and I can't wait.

Queen of Babble also by Meg Cabot: OK, so who can really afford to jaunt off to Europe for a month to chase a guy? But this story is still cute, and the ending was so sweet it made my teeth hurt.

Tabloid Love by Bridget Harrison: OK, this ALSO isn't a chick lit book, it's a memoir by an English chick that made me want a spot of tea. And a bite of Jack, her boss-cum-boyfriend. Harrison is a former New York Post reporter and columnist, and as a former newspaper writer, I can certainly understand the trials and tribs of a writer. And I think there's an inner Bridget in all of us.

I'm such a dork.

Not only do I NOT have a My space page, I've just created a blog that I'll probably never be able to access again.

I have a bad habit of that -- finding a site, registering for it with all intents and purposes of returning and then ... not. Returning. Ever. But I get the spam mail those hundreds of sites sell to other thousands of sites, and before I know it, my inbox is filled with offers to help me lose weight, increase my penis size and buy the hottest stock on Wall Street, not particularly in that order. And I don't even have a penis.