May 27, 2009

A Letter from the Attorney General

It's not often you get a memo from the Attorney General, so I would listen up if I were you. But then again Melissa says I'm full of myself, so.

I just wanted to let her scores of readers know that she will not be appearing this week on the Stretch Marks Blog. This is due to the fact that while I was out of town last week she uploaded a virus on her computer. I would like to say, for the record, that the computer she currently has was once mine. Never. Ever. In the five years that I had that computer did I download one virus. She, however, has it in her possession for a week and a half and she can barely turn it on.

When it comes to technology I promise you there is no one like her in the entire world. She should not even be allowed to walk within two miles of a Radio Shack. She is that lethal.

So, until I can get home from my business trip and try to figure out what in the world she has done I have asked her not to post for the rest of the week. Actually, I asked her not to even open her computer for the rest of the week but as you can imagine, she does whatever she wants; so she opened it up today and ordered a bathing suit because (as she put it) "I had to or I would have to wear that old thing from last year and there are like 43 people who have already seen it."

Then she used our Visa card on a computer that has a virus. Which means somewhere in Romania someone is charging papanasi to my credit card and claiming to be me.

So until next week you will have to do without Melissa's words. Which, I have to tell you, can sometimes be a welcome thing.

I love my little virus,

The A.G.

May 22, 2009

E.R....Chicago Hope....General Hospital....Grey's Anatomy....

Doesn't matter the show, the scene is the same.

The paddles.

There's always the scene with the paddles.

The victim lies outstretched on the stretcher. Doctors, nurses, technicians flock them on both sides. Orders are called out. People react. And everything happens so quickly. The doctor grabs the paddles and suddenly we hear...




Still. Nothing.

"We're losing her."

"Try one more time. Just once more."


And suddenly...beep...beep...beep...beep.

And life begins again.

It was this scene I thought of last night as I lay in bed running my fingers through the hair of the beautiful little girl beside me. It's the night before her birthday and her 24 hour celebration begins with a "slumber party" between mom and dad in "mama's big bed." And because I am a sucker for the smell of Johnson and Johnson Bedtime Bath I readily give in to her request; after all, little does she know I love her laying beside me twice as much as she does (though let's be honest, I dare not tell her for fear it will render her completely unable to indulge me any longer.) And I pet her hair and I scratch her back and when I'm sure I hear her snoring I lean in and steal one million kisses. And I think of the scene. The paddles.

When Remi entered my world on this day, three years ago, I was that patient. There was no life left in my heart. None. My heart had stopped beating months before. Saying "goodbye" to one child rarely opens up your heart to say "hello" to another, it just shuts it down more. That's just the way the heart works. Sometimes when it hurts so badly for so long, it just stops altogether. That's the heart for ya.


Still. Nothing.

But suddenly...beep...beep...beep...beep.

Today in the car I told Remi the story of her birth and I told it in all of it's fairy tale splendor. As with any child, the stories you tell Remi must be filled with four things: tears, laughter, a princess and Scooby-Doo. So I obliged. And I told the story of the sad girl, who could only cry, until an angel came to her door one day and said, "Sweetie, don't cry anymore. I have a baby for you. I am going to take you to this baby who will dry your tears and make you laugh again." And as I recited the story, that my heart has told a thousand times before, she listened to every last stutter and breath. She clung to every word.

So I made every word come to life.

If she did it for me, it's the least I can do for her.

Happy Birthday, Remi Hope.




God is sweet. All the time.

All the time. God is sweet.

May 20, 2009

American Idol: Suddenly Diana DeGarmo Doesn't Seem So Bad.

So each week I try to give you a play-by-play of what I suspect was going on "behind the scenes." This post is no different. So herein lies what I believe, to have been said between our two finalists while they were standing backstage.

I could be wrong.

But I doubt it.



Kris Allen: Are you nervous man?

Adam Lambert: No. I've worn this trench coat while walking down stairs a thousand times.

Kris: Right, but I mean about the...

Adam: Oh, the fog? No. I love fog. Love. Fog. In fact, I prefer to perform in fog. It helps my nail polish glisten and causes my hair to scrunch naturally.

Kris: Oh, okay. But actually I was talking about ...

Adam: My guyliner? Are you kidding? I love guyliner. Plus, mine is smear proof.

Kris: That's good. But I was meaning are you nervous about performing. Ya know, SINGING?

Adam: Uh, no. I'm more terrified because Suri Cruise is in the audience. HELLO!! SURI CRUISE!!



Adam: I heard Simon say you won round one.

Kris: Hey, it's not big deal...

Adam: Yes, it is, Kris. Yes, it is. So I'm pulling out my silver suit.

Kris: Oh, okay...

Adam: My silver suit, Kris. My SILVER. SUIT.

Kris: Okay...


Kris: (Silence)




Kris: So what do you think about this song?

Adam: I think she finished writing it at 3 this afternoon which is why neither of us know it at all.

Kris: I didn't even have time to lower the key.

Adam: I don't need to lower the key. I use my tongue.

Kris: Right.

Adam: And also I will be wearing my snake pants. Which automatically make me sing higher.

Kris: Good for you, douche bag.


I'm interested to hear what you all thought about last night, but I gotta tell ya, I wasn't that impressed. Not with either one of them. Of course I thought Kris nailed "Ain't No Sunshine," but that's really about it. I thought it was a pretty anti-climactic event overall.

But I'm still a Kris fan. And it's not just because he seems like a genuinely sweet guy.

But also because all the women in his family color coordinated what they would be wearing, which screams "SOUTHERN CHARM" all over it. And I'm always a sucker for southern charm.

So there you have it, my final thoughts on AI. Oh, wait, since you pressed me, there is one more thing:

The award for most dramatic. emphasis. and. over. pronunciation. put. on. every. word. goes. to. none. other. than. Kara. Diaguardi. herself. who. wears. me. out. emotionally. every. time. she. speaks. Thank. you. And. good. night.

May 19, 2009

To whom it may concern

To whom it may concern,

I have not left the country.

I am have not been imprisoned for sneaking in to local hotel swimming pools (though I hear there is a warrant out for me.)

And I have not been flagged by those people who do that TLC "What Not To Wear" show (though I hear there is a warrant out for me.)

I am, however, out of commission.

As much as I would love to post about the first episode of The Bachelorette ("BILBRO"??? Honestly?) ...

As much as I would love to bore you all to death with my wishes for my hair appointment tomorrow. (We're going short for the summertime!) ...

And as much as I would love take a walk down memory lane due to the fact that this week is Remi's birthday and the last year of her life has left me with elevated blood pressure and paralysis in my left leg...

It is not to be.

Please excuse me for a day or so while I let my computer heal. It is currently flashing words like "VIRUS" "DEATH" "THREAT" "UNPROTECTED". I haven't heard words like this since my 9th grade sex ed. talk.


So, I'm sorry people, but that is pretty serious.

Keep checking back in case it gets healed. I'm Pentecostal, so I believe that is highly likely.

In the mean time, have a good day my lovelies...


PS. Don't forget to vote for Kris early and often tonight!