Police Harass Matt Dillon for No Reason

There's something about a man getting thrown in the clink that makes me love him even more.  Matt Dillon ... does the human species get any better than this?  (Not necessarily this photo, where he looks rather ma-cheese-mo, but I don't have time to scour the Internet all day looking for hot photos of Matt Dillon. I've got twins, OKAY???!!!) Seems Matt was caught speeding. Big whoop. Not even drunk. Can't a guy who should have won an Oscar (his performance in Little Darlings was emotionally riveting) let off a little steam on a public highway without incidence?  Sheesh.

Now someone who could get arrested 5 million times and would still make me puke is Ethan Hawke. And this is why:

  "Am I a macho, egomaniac, self-indulgent bullshit actor?  Am I a serious, introspective workaholic?  Am I pretentious and only concerned with the work in my life?  All these things are true."  -- Ethan Hawke to Premiere, October 2002

Still with me or did you stick a fork in your eye?  Uma, don't get me wrong, I think you look like a bird. Big Bird to be more precise. But be HAPPY Ethan left you and married the nanny. Can you imagine listening to such drivel day in and day out, over and over and over for eternity until you thankfully dropped to your death?  If you don't already hate him, Ethan's baby (with the nanny) was cursed with the name Clementine in what can only be explained as trying to one-up Gwyneth in a bizarre Hollywood fruit-naming competition.

G-Rod Will Fight, Fight, Fight...

And recite poetry.

I can only assume poet Rudyard Kipling is rolling over in his (her?) grave.  I'm too lazy to confirm Rudyard is in fact deceased, but aren't all poets?  Except of course Ethan Hawke. Didn't he write a book of poetry?  Ethan deeply upsets me and it has nothing to do with him leaving Uma for the nanny.

I've deduced that the governor's PR people are vacationing with Jennifer Aniston's PR people at some very remote resort with no access to outside communique'.  On a very related note, I received an e-mail from someone who told me to go #$@! myself.  Given her predisposition for profanity, I'm fairly certain it was Mrs. G-Rod.  

Wacky Ass Woman...

Gives birth to EIGHTEENTH child.  

I'm not even sure who the dad is in this photo.  All the sex must be keeping him young ...  I can't get a good gander at the the mom but my guess is it's not doing the same for her.

Is There Something Humiliating...

About adults starring in tv shows for kids?

Don't tell me this guy came out to Hollywood hoping he would end up singing to a blue dog about going potty on the toilet. I'm always slightly embarrassed for the grownups on these shows... So imagine my upset when I tuned into Jack's Big Music Show on Noggin and saw LISA LOEB performing. LISA LOEB.  Reality does bite. Where is Ethan Hawke when you need him??  Jack's Big Music show features a cast of musically inclined puppets (most better actors than Ethan Hawke) and various musicians (out-of-work ones I imagine) pay visits to their clubhouse.  

On a somewhat related note, I know someone who knows someone whose cousin is in The Wiggles.  I'm not sure why I feel this important to mention but I do.

To Illustrate the Bump Migration...

This is what Rod Blagojevich's hair bump may look like someday.

I am beginning to think I should have named this blog after G-Rod instead of twins I don't write about.  I wonder if I secretly have a crush on the (for now) governor (so secret even I don't know about it...)  Because this obsession should only be reserved for people you want to sleep with.  (Shiver.)  Never mind, not a crush.  Just some sick fascination I'll have to discuss at length with my therapist.

G-Rod in High School ...

Was only slightly less hideous.  

What I find most illuminating,  however, is he seemed to have a propensity for sporting teased sections of hair even back then (Exhibit A). Oddly, the bump has crept from the back of his head to sort of in the middle of his head as he's aged (Exhibit B).  Let's hope the prison releases photos when he's 70 -- he'll probably have a gigantic bump of hair at the forehead, or if its course takes a detour, maybe straight out from his ear.  He told reporters today (before he went for his daily jog, why let a felony charge ruin your routine?) that he is "dying" to tell his side of the story and plans to do so very soon.  Yippee!

Is the Threat of Coal on Christmas Morning...

No longer incentive enough to be good?  Apparently not.  Now we have:

This elf perches himself conspicuously near a child's play area so he can take notes and report various grievances about the child's behavior back to Santa each night.  I bet this is how employees feel when people from "corporate" come to visit. Oh sure, he looks pleasant enough but all elves are a bit creepy with the exception of Will Ferrell.  My kids are too young to understand the impending threat a pint-sized tattletale poses, but I'll give it a try next year.  In the meantime, I think I'll put him on my dresser and see if my behavior improves.

Tara Reid's Rehab Announcement ...

Shocked at least one person.

If showing off your surgically mangled breast on the red carpet to the entire world and winding up engaged to Carson Daly aren't sufficient reasons to examine your drinking issues, what is?  I mean, what does Tara Reid's rock bottom look like and do we even want to know?  Hopefully she'll write a memoir (might I suggest Tara-dise Lost?) so that one of life's modern mysteries can be put to rest.

What Do a Flower and a Shoe Have in Common?

They are both excellent weapons against world leaders. Remember in 2001 when a schoolgirl hit Prince Charles with a flower and was charged with ENDANGERING THE LIFE of a foreign dignitary?  Endangering his life. With a flower.  Which begs the question:  Has anyone actually died from a flower assault?  I'm sure the occasional murder has been committed with a shoe, but a flower?  The girl faced 15 years in prison. I don't know what ever happened but I like to think she's still in prison, with seven more years to go, sharing a bunk with a hardened criminal and continuously, manically screaming, "IT WAS A FLOWER!!!"

If I Were Working...

I'd be relaxing in my office right now with my second cafe mocha browsing Gawker to get their take on Tara Reid entering rehab.  Instead, it's 9:33 am, I've already been up for more than three hours, made breakfast for two babies, changed five -- yes, count'em five -- diapers, cleaned smooshed banana off a dancing Elmo and performed various other mundane tasks with which I won't bore you.  Working -- and I'm fairly certain here -- is much easier.  You breeze in around 9:03 am --late but not late enough that someone could call you out on it without looking petty.  You're almost finished with the Starbucks you bought on your way in so around 9:20 you need to run downstairs for a fresh one.   You see some people down there and bitch for a bit about that stickler Lenny in Accounting who questioned the $330 bar bill on your expense report.  By the time you get back to your office at 10:05, Gawker has several new posts to read and then at 10:45 you start thinking about doing some work. But now it's almost lunch time so why bother getting wrapped up in a project when your concentration will be broken and you won't even remember where you left off by the time you saunter back in from lunch a few minutes after 2?  All in all, I figure most people -- and these are the ambitious ones -- get no more than two hours of work done each day.  And I think this goes without saying, I was never one of the ambitious ones.

My uncle gave me some priceless advice when I graduated from college:  Always carry a large box around with you and say things in an urgent manner such as "Sam needed this like yesterday!" and rush out the door as though your life depended on it.  He always kept a large box in his car in case he was late. People assume your lateness is directly correlated to the box and tend not to ask questions.  A few of his other rules for workplace success:

--Work your ass off the first two months and people will forever think you are a star.  Then you can coast for the next 20 years.  This is based on some psychological theory that people don't like to admit, even to themselves, that their first impressions were wrong.

 

--Have a partner in crime, so to speak.  For example, you switch off days not showing up at the office. Your partner turns on your computer and throughout the day puts a steaming cup of coffee on your desk, remnants of a half-eaten sandwich and so forth.  "Oh, you just missed him!  He went rushing off that way with a large, important-looking box" your parter might say to your boss.

--Whenever possible, take a job where your boss is not in the same office as you are. Better still if he or she is not on the same continent.  Think global companies where you are but a speck among 2,000 other specks the international sales vice president must oversee.

Incidentally, his theories seem to work: my uncle has a sweet job working from home making six figures. I'd try them myself but my current bosses are not only on the same continent but live in my home and didn't seem deterred in wanting my attention when I scurried past them toting a large box.

I Admit It...I'm Obsessed with ...

the G-Rod. I mean, is this a man who knows he's facing prison or the carefree wave of a popular high school girl greeting her admirers from the homecoming float? Is the man delusional?  But I will say this: His hair has come down at least a good two inches since his arrest.  Perhaps he hasn't had time to do the full tease in the morning, what with all the pressure to resign and all. Don't you love the look on the guy's face to his right. It's like, "Man, wave all you want, but you are so F@#$^$!"

And here's my fashion tip to Rod, for what it's worth. He should ALWAYS wear casual clothes. I almost don't vomit when he's wearing street clothes, if you will.  He looks much smarmier (if it's not a word, it should be) in business attire. 

Why the more formal the clothes, the higher the bump in his hair?  Purposeful or mere coincidence?  These are the things that keep me up at night.

Why My Husband...

Isn't privy to the fact I have a blog.  One curious reader (errrr, my mom) wanted to know: "Won't H be mad if he learns you have a blog and post pictures of the girls and don't tell him about it?" First off, making my husband angry has never served as a deterrent to me.  H angry is about as terrifying as Kermit the Frog.

Also, to his credit, he doesn't stay angry long. Two minutes, tops. And if it lasts longer than that, he's easily distracted.  "Oh, look, honey!  Ann Coulter is on Hannity tonight ...Yes, she is smart. Sure, I bet that's her real hair color ... Oh, yes, she IS kind of pretty... I mean, in some lighting I bet she looks almost human..." He's a very simple sort.  (I mean, really, aren't they all?)

H is "against" blogging. H was also "against" Facebook but recently took out a profile and is now "Facebook Friends" with a woman he once slept with ... but let's save that for my therapist, shall we?  

When I mentioned I might want to start a blog, he asked, "A blog? Why? That's stupid. Who is your target audience?"  PEOPLE WHO WANT TO BASH THEIR HUSBAND'S FACES IN.  But I digress.  So, you see, he doesn't see the point of a blog.  If he knew about it, he'd read each post and ask dumb questions like "Who is John Mayer and what does he have to do with the twins?  What is a LuLu and a Moxley? Where did you come up with those ridiculous names?"  I would find all the questions boring and monotonous and it might lead to a second degree murder charge.  (I say "second degree" because I have access to a wonderful attorney here in the Windy City who would see to it I faced lesser charges after portraying me as a doting mother of twins rather than a scheming murderess.)

So if you see H and want to make him happy, tell him Alan Colmes is an ass wipe and don't mention this blog.

On What Planet...

Is this handsome?

I'm less offended that G-Rod tried to sell Obama's Senate seat than I am that the Associated Press called him "handsome."  His hair alone disqualifies him. Is that lump in the middle just layers of hair or is there a small creature perched inside there (Mayor Daley, perhaps?)  I venture to say that even Brad Pitt wouldn't be "handsome" sporting above cut. I would superimpose G-Rod's 'do atop Brad Pitt's head to prove my point if I were a more technical savvy blogger. But I'm not so let me give you a minute to conjure up the image ...  Nope, still not handsome.  And while that tough-ass Fitzgerald (is he sexy in a prosecutorial kind of way or is it me?) throws people in the slammer, let's toss in the architect of this monstrosity of a cut. Anyone know G-Rod's stylist so I can (personally, in person) leak the name to Patrick? (I like to think, if we met, he'd ask me to call him Patrick.)

And speaking of Brad Pitt, how does one go from BRAD PITT to VINCE VAUGHN to john mayer.  (I am using capitalization to reflect my opinion on Jennifer Aniston's various bedmates. Keep up here. Need I explain everything to you???)  I mean, the guy looks like a well-intentioned Frankenstein experiment gone awry. For the love of God, there are CHILDREN (presumably) who see this monster in broad daylight. Do nightmares not ensue, one wonders?  It makes me thankful to live in Chicago where this creature probably rarely ventures:

And he dated jessica simpson and jennifer love hewitt.  Does JENNIFER ANISTON not understand the importance of tiers in Hollywood??  Must some lowly SAHM in the Midwest explain to her that you stay within your tier or risk losing it forever? Sheesh, everyone knows that.  Next thing you know she'll be starring in a Lifetime movie and swapping spit with David Spade.  And speaking of Jen, has her publicist left the country??  Do they not have e-mail or at least facsimile where he went?  Someone needs to put a clamp down on her incessant running at the mouth about Angie and Brad. By golly, drink a margarita with Courteney and David in Cabo and give it a rest already.

Well my first post and I couldn't think of one  interesting thing to say about my kids.  If you want to listen to some SAHM prattle on about what color her kids' poop is today (oddly enough, blue) then perhaps you better kick it on down the road to another blog.