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From the Could It Be Saaay-tan? Dept.

Keith Richards should have been dead already, says journalist. "Duh," says me. Link goes to information on an article where said journalist predicts how long rock stars will live. So far, Sting appears set to outlive us all, meaning we can be subject to at least forty more years of hearing him sing that horrible, slow-as-molasses version of "Roxanne" in concert. No word on how long we'll be keeping Paulie, though if he keeps up the veggie thing it could be a while.

My advice for Keith, though: start praying.

Maybe we'll just get to see boobies

Things are getting tense for the people who hold the ceremony where the little golden men are distributed. I don't see why this year should be any different from past ceremonies, however, because it seems every year there is a cause celebre on which presenters and/or winners want to pontificate. I don't see why there should be any anxiety, personally. If anything, it helps the show's ratings. In this age of fascination with reality TV, I'd think more people now are interested in which celebrity will make an ass of himself/herself onstage than who is going win a trophy. Who wants to watch something dull? Set up a trapdoor to trigger when Miz Sarandon starts blabbing about something or other. Construct a big-ass Monty Python foot to interrupt really bad musical numbers. Bring back the wait, he's dead. Never mind.

Mmm, fried goat

"It's like the ring from `The Lord of the Rings' and we're kind of like Frodo, trying to get it over with."

Well, if destroying a baseball will make an entire nation of Cubs fans feel better, whatever. This ball sold at auction for over a hundred grand. Next time somebody throw one of my books on the field. I couldn't ask for better publicity than that.

Then again, forget it.

Forgot to mention this morning that I saw The Triplets of Belleville last night. Cute movie with a few moments of tedium that would have had Malc looking at his watch (he had to work). If you go see it, stay through the credits, and I'll warn you that the theme song is going to stick in your head for a while.

What else? Not much. Still nauseous. Going over "checklists" on the various baby registry sites. Why didn't anybody tell me we're going to have to go out and buy all this stuff? Layettes, crib mattresses, baby nail babies have fingernails? My grandmother slept in a wooden crate as a child, and she lived to be 102. Is there some kind of conspiracy with the baby stuff manufacturers?

I'm giving up vanity. No choice

I'm taking an informal survey of the St. Blog's blogs going on hiatus for Lent. Thus far, I believe Victor and Mark have checked out, and Michelle is taking Fridays and Holy Week off. I'd like to get a list done for b4G, so if you know of any additions please leave a note in the comments box.

The other 29% percent must account for the Krispy Kreme overdoses and Paulie/Geddylust

This site is certified 71% GOOD by the Gematriculator

My homepage didn't fare this well.

What is life?

George would have been 61 today. Don't smoke. Wonder what he would have thought of this whole Grey Album thing; I'm curious now to hear it.

Today is also Ash Wednesday, though I won't be going to Mass today because our church had a special service last night, after which we had jambalaya in the church hall. I've been worried about how to handling fasting this year, but I've been assured pregnant woman are exempt. The point may be moot, anyway, since I haven't felt like eating all week. Just the thought of it makes me feel even sicker. I have to look forward to this for how much longer now?

Sam the Butcher's been a bad, bad boy

TV's Carol Brady dons dominatrix getup for follies show. No pictures on the story, BTW. Seem to recall in a book (Ungodly Rage, maybe) that Flo is/was married to a former Catholic priest and part of a group advocating married priesthood, among other things. Can anyone confirm? I know she was raised Catholic and mentioned fondly the nuns from her grade school in one of those Lifetime biography specials.

Could be wrong, though, after reading this (scroll to bottom). The woman on the CCC site is probably not the same Florence.

My obligatory Passion post

It's the talk of the blogs, so I suppose I should put in my two farthings. Will I go see it? Eventually, but I'm not one for opening nights anymore, especially when it costs eight bucks to see a first-run film. I could rent two DVDs with that and still have money left over for a Taco Bell run. You know how much they want for Sno-Caps these days? Criminal.

I'm concerned, too, for my queasiness. Morning sickness (a misnomer, I'm getting it 24/7) is here, and I'm not sure I need to be sitting through a movie which, I understand, is quite graphic. If I can't get through reading Fox Trot without wanting to hurl, I don't stand a chance at the Cinemark 6000.

Nuns on skis, and why not? Our own pontiff could cut a mean Alp back in the day.

Welcome to St. Blog's

Catholic Fire
Catholic Ragemonkey (winner of the St. Blog's Name of the Week)
Laudem Gloriae
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Republic of Virtue

Welcome to the Catholic Writers Ring

Catholic Caveman

FADE IN: Interior, the Lively living room

KATHRYN and MALCOLM are watching TV.

MALCOLM: There's nothing on tonight.

KATHRYN: Hey, there's a show on the making of The Passion.

MALCOLM: I don't want to watch that. I don't want to be spoiled.

KATHRYN: Uh, you do know how the story ends, right?

MALCOLM gives KATHRYN a withering look before switching to the SAG Awards.

MALCOLM: Damn, what happened to Meryl Streep?

KATHRYN: That's what a woman is supposed to look like without the aid of plastic.


It's a phunky kind of Phriday!

You've got a real type of thing going down, gettin' down
There's a whole lot of rhythm going round...

I've been to the bathroom six times in the last hour.

Eight months to go.

I hear Janet's quite popular these days

Michael Jackson impersonators can't find work. There's a risk with every job, I suppose. Maybe they could all braid their hair, deepen their voices and try for Snoop Dogg.

Gimme a break, gimme a break...

Mmm, curry-flavored Kit-Kat bars. What's next, habanero Krispy Kremes?

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

Acne. I haven't had acne like this since I was fifteen.

Do you have a story about a priest who made a difference in your life for the better? Tim Drake is looking for such material for an article; send him an e-mail if you can help. If you don't have Tim's e-mail, let me know and I'll forward your info to him.

There's no St. Oprah!

Hope everybody does realize I was being facetious about Oprah if it's a girl. In all honesty we don't have a girl's name picked. Malc really wants a boy, and I guess he figures if we don't have a name there won't be a girl. It's too early to tell now, but it shouldn't hurt to have at least one on reserve.

Problem is, all the names I like are names of ex-girlfriends or women Malc doesn't particularly favor. We don't want to be trendy, either, and Malc doesn't want an L name because he's not into alliteration, so I can't name a girl after my late aunt Linda.

Watch us end up with twin girls.

She's not soaking in it anymore

From the What's Burning and Who's Dead Dept.: Madge the Manicurist from the old Palmolive commercials is gone. Another one of those people I thought had died years ago, along with Margaret "Maxwell House" Hamilton and Mr. Whipple. Not long after Malc and I married we went to Sam's Club and bought this big-ass bottle of Palmolive liquid. Lasted seven years. God bless you, Madge.

TiVo Alert!

Break out the Quisp and Space Food Sticks, it's Sid and Marty Krofft night on TV Land! They're gonna show Electra Woman and Dyna Girl. Woo-hoo!

Where are all these wonderful scripts supposedly coming out of Act One?

What do we get instead? This. Surely there's an original idea left in Hollywood that hasn't been exploited. Just rerelease the original. I like the Rock, but he's no Joe Don Baker.

One day I'll have Malc tell the story of the time he got drunk with Bo Svenson, who starred in the sequel. Malc used to get drunk with all the coolest people.

Blood is thicker than EPT

Just talked to the nurse, I'm pregnant! Take it from me, home tests are bull.

I know it's probably too early to be broadcasting news like this, but if you know my story you'll know this is a long time coming, so keep praying and in nine months we'll have a little Ian or little Oprah.

I make it a policy never to read my reviews...especially if I write them

Authors reviewing their own works outed. I have to confess I have been tempted many times to do this myself. Once I went so far as to create a persona for the purpose of reviewing one of my books and sending the review to some sites--even got a Hotmail account and made up a phony name--but I chickened out. I did post a notice on when Little Flowers came out, but I specified that I was the author of the book and I was not reviewing the work, just explaining some things about it. Of course, I'm not above getting relatives to write praise, that's why we have family, right?


50 Second Thoughts

This post spoils the film 50 First Dates, which we saw Friday night, so read no further if you intend to see the film and don't want to be spoiled. Here, go read the dictionary. Always fascinating.

You probably already know the premise of the film: Adam Sandler is in love with Drew Barrymore, but Drew suffers short term memory loss. Every time she goes to sleep at night her slate is wiped clean and she essentially lives the same day over and over again. Throughout the movie Adam comes up with all sorts of schemes to get noticed and hopefully jar her memory enough so that she will eventually remember him one day. By the middle of the film he and her family begin to remind her daily of the accident that robbed her of her memory loss through videotapes. It doesn't technically work, but by the end of the film Drew admits to dreaming about him, though she still doesn't remember him. She is an artist, and her studio is filled with drawings of Adam.

The last scenes of the film depict Drew and Adam as a married couple with a young daughter. They are living on Adam's boat, and Drew is happy to see him and the little girl. Her father, whom she does remember because her long term memory is intact, lives with them. Fade out.

Malc thought it was a cute movie, and to Adam Sandler's credit I think it is one of his better efforts (I still like The Wedding Singer best, and I have yet to see Punch Drunk Love.). I thought it was cute, too, but lately it has been bothering me. You'd think with a movie like this - with a somewhat unbelievable premise - would end with an equally unbelievable solution. You'd expect Drew to miraculously heal and she and Adam would live happily ever after. Instead it is implied that she is going to wake up every day for the rest of her life not knowing where she is, and having to be reminded that she is married to Adam Sandler, who technically is a complete stranger to her. She is going to have this daughter to whom she doesn't remember giving birth, doesn't remember nursing, or watching grow.

One day she'll wake up and the girl will be eighteen and going to prom, and Drew will not have remembered the last eighteen years. One day her father will die, and that safety buffer will be gone, and every day hence she'll wake up and not remember her father is gone. I'm thinking about all of this and I wonder...where is the romance in this? It seems almost cruel to have her live a life where she won't be able to remember half of it. I keep asking myself "what if this" and "what if that" and "would I want somebody to do this to me"?

Of course, I then tell myself it's just a movie, and certainly there should be other things more important to ponder. Maybe I am making too much of it, I don't know.

What does one a half lines mean?

Prayers appreciated, I'm going to the doctor today to find out once and for all. I took a home test the other day. Two lines mean yes, but I saw one bold line and in the other window a very, very faint one. I drink gallons of water a day, so I don't know if I tainted my own results. A blood test will tell me for sure.

New book

Some of you may know or may have heard of Ronda Chervin. She has two titles with FrancisIsidore, and a ton of others with other pubs. I helped her produce her latest workbook, Taming the Lion Within, which she uses for her anger management workshops. The CafePress page needs a bit of alteration, but I hope to finish that this weekend.

Betazoid wasn't an option

You're a Human!
You're a Human! Inquisitive and mellow, you're an
explorer at heart.

What Star Trek Race Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Not the most imaginative of results, but at least I got to take a quiz And Then? and Oblique House haven't yet.

Found on One Little Victory

When little golden men attack

Greatest WTF? moments in little gold man statuette giving history. I'll have to agree with them on Marisa Tomei and Halle "Make Me Feel Goooooood" Berry, but I'm suprised the article doesn't mention Helen Hunt's win over Judi Dench's marvelous job in Mrs. Brown (to say nothing of the fact that Billy Connolly was ignored that year), though they did mention Dench's Shakespeare in Love consolation win. I think also I would have mentioned Tom Hanks winning for Forrest Gump over Nigel Hawthorne's King George and the other Shakespeare in Love wins. I'm sorry, I thought it was a good movie, just not worthy of all the gold.

BTW, there's still time to enter my pick the awards contest. Link above.

I just realized I've been blogging for nearly two years now and have yet to recognize on blog the musical genius that is Bootsy Collins. Well here ya go:

I give you Bootsy: the man, the legend. The only man who can make those glasses work. Peace out, y'all.

Two Four more

Army chick CNYTR
Flos Carmeli is back in the ring.
Look out! Random Hug Patrol!
Pentecost Central, actually five blogs in one

And if ever decide to chuck this whole thing and open a candy store, I'm going to call it Immaculate Confections, after this post from Curt Jester.

I'll show you the bruises

Richard Roeper on anti-Catholicism in film. They don't make 'em like Going My Way anymore, apparently. This could be why I haven't been able to secure an agent yet. All the priests and nuns in my stories are nice and don't molest people.

May the Force be loaded with extra goodies and deleted scenes

The original Star Wars trilogy is coming to DVD. We weren't supposed to get this for another two thinks ol' George is feeling the heat from a certain few Hobbits.

Not to get anybody's hopes up, least of all mine... but I'm more than a bit late and feeling not so groovy. I can only hope Mother Nature isn't yanking my chain. Your prayers are appreciated.

It was forty years ago today....

Last season, Mark Martin drove for Viagra. Tonight at the Bud Shootout, he's driving for Oscar Mayer Wieners.

So, is that, like, a promotion?

It's an honor to be nominated

That's exactly what I would be saying were I nominated, but I wasn't, so there.

The nominations for the First Evah St. Bloggie's are live, celebrating the best in Catholic blogs. There is no category for webring (boo hoo), but there are a number of good blogs up for the big awards, which as I understand are little trophies designed to look like Mel Gibson. Actually, I'm kidding. I don't know what they look like, and as far as I know I haven't asked to be a presenter, or host, or to appear in some cheezy musical number with Snow White. So screw 'em.

I'm kidding. Vote early and vote often.

Truth in fiction?

The NFL has put the screws on ESPN to can Playmakers. Too bad, I kinda liked the show. I'll never understand why some good shows last no more than a season, yet dreck is eternal. Apparently the NFL doesn't like the way professional football is portrayed. Malc, who worked for the Miami Hurriances and very briefly for the Dolphins, tells me much of what happened on the show is quite accurate. Funny this announcement should come so soon after that Miz Jackson thingie. Makes you wonder...

My article for was published, and I got wings!

BTW, if you ever decide to join, use livelywriter as your referral name.

Always look your breast

...and in the spirit of last weekend's Boobie Bowl, I've come up with the perfect slogan for my promotional t-shirt, which I plan to debut at the Book Expo in Chicago:
Just look at the URL...nothing else

Don't think I won't wear it.

Today is the Feast of St. Blaise. As a child, we as a school attended Mass on this day for the traditional blessing of throats. During the time scheduled for the homily, we would line up as if to take Communion, and the priest would hold two crossed candles to our throats. This was done in commemoration of the miracle St. Blaise performed in touching a child's throat and dislodging a fish bone that kept the child from breathing.

People attending daily Mass today will likely receive the blessing. At our parish, Father Joe decided to extradite matters, and we had the blessing during last Saturday's Mass. It surprised me that Malc, as a convert, had never heard of the blessing, and I think that was Father's point - older traditions like this are fading away. Many of the young people at Mass did not know of the tradition, and that's rather sad to know.

You can't help but wonder if fading traditions, regardless of what church you attend, are the reason things like the Janet Jackson incident keep happening. I'm not saying not having the blessing of the throats for the past few decades directly contributed to a racy halftime show, but if put enough cracks in a vase the water starts to spill.


Nomination form is up. I see there's no category for Best Weblog Ring. Hmph.

Hope this image fits. From And Then?, via Curt Jester:

create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

A little off the sides, and 14 inches down the back

You read it right. They took fourteen inches of hair, and as it stands now I have 12 inches left growing out of my head. I had never realized my hair stretched down more than two feet. Getting it cut hurt like hell; first the hair was banded with a very tough elastic, like a rubber band squared. Then the stylist took these teeny, tiny scissors and hacked away at my hair for a good ten minutes before she was able to free it from my head. Now I have a bob; I look like Jill Hennessey from her L&O days, but given my hair it won't last but a few months because it will start growing again.

It better, anyway.

And I do have pictures, I just need to finish the roll.

Only some random number days until Genny goes to college.

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20th Century Pope: JPII
Aqua Teen: Frylock
Barbie: Harley
Beatle Album: Magical Mystery Tour
Beatle Era: Hamburg
Beatle Film Character: Paul's Grandfather
Beatle Kid: Dhani Harrison
Beatle Song: "Yellow Submarine"
Brady Bunch: Greg
Brideshead Revisited: Lady Cordelia Flyte
British: 32.5%
Boy Band: Beatles
Canadian: 33%
Cartoon Dog: Snoopy
Catholic order: St. John Bosco
Cheers: Norm!
Christmas Carol: Silent Night
Cocktail: Bloody Mary
Dante's Inferno: Purgatory
David Bowie: late 60s/early 70s
Decade: the 60s
Disney Princess: Belle
Drew Carey Career: Human Resources
Edward Gorey: Gashleycrumb
Elvis: 50s
Evil: 18%
Foreign Language: Italian
Founding Father: John Adams
Ian McKellan: Just Ian
Inner Sexy Cartoon Chick: Wilma Flintstone
Internet Addict: 45%
Iron Chef: Chairman Kaga
Jane Austen: Elinor Dashwood
Jedi: Knight
John Cusack: John Kelso
Journal Rating: PG-13
Led Zeppelin song: Whole Lotta Love
LifeSaver: lemon
Lone Gunmen: Byers
LoTR: Legolas
M&M: blue
Madonna: Soul
M*A*S*H: Hawkeye
Monkees: Micky
Movie for Me: Forrest Gump
Muppet: Fozzie
Music god: Sting
Narnia: The Magician's Nephew
Old Movie: Citizen Kane
Parrothead: True
Peanuts: Linus
Retro Girl: Seductive Pin-Up
Rugrats: Angelica
Simpsons: Disco Stu
Star Trek: Spock
Star Trek race: Human
Store to Loot: Mega Grocer
Three's Company: Janet
Tolkien Beliefs: Conservative
Ugly Prom Dress: 80s
US City: Atlanta
VW Beetle: Black
Whose Line?: Colin Mochrie
Wife of Henry VIII: Anne of Cleves
Willy Wonka: Veruca
Wodehouse: Bertie Wooster
Wrestler: Stone Cold
Writer: Mystery

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