Never Fear....Not That You Were.

I watched it, I watched it.

But I don't have time to post about it. Just yet.

Cuz my little man is coughing his head off and it sounds like a small dog moved into his chest. So give me a little while to get him to his doctor's appointment, load him up with some drugs, put him down for a nappy-poo and I'll be right back at it.

Because elephant rides and overnight stays in a tree-house cannot be summed up in two minutes. They just can't.

Doubting Thomas.

I don't usually type my posts on the morning of. I type them a day ahead and if I'm really doing good, a week ahead.

Not today.

Today I am typing a post that will go up seconds after I'm done with it. I'm that behind. Because its been that kind of weekend. The kind where you never stop, not once. The kind where every moment is filled with something, or someone, or some situation. The kind that makes you actually look forward to Monday.

Yeah, that kind of weekend.

So today, as I sit on my couch and my house is quiet I think about what it is I want to say. As much I would like to take credit for the wording that I am about to use I suppose I should let the writer of The Message Bible do that. He translates the words, "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!" into words that resonate truer with me.

Look for yourself...

~~~

(Mark 9: 14-24)
When they came back down the mountain to the other disciples, they saw a huge crowd around them, and the religion scholars cross-examining them. As soon as the people in the crowd saw Jesus, admiring excitement stirred them. They ran and greeted him. He asked, "What's going on? What's all the commotion?"

A man out of the crowd answered, "Teacher, I brought my mute son, made speechless by a demon, to you. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, grinds his teeth, and goes stiff as a board. I told your disciples, hoping they could deliver him, but they couldn't."

Jesus said, "What a generation! No sense of God! How many times do I have to go over these things? How much longer do I have to put up with this? Bring the boy here." They brought him. When the demon saw Jesus, it threw the boy into a seizure, causing him to writhe on the ground and foam at the mouth.

He asked the boy's father, "How long has this been going on?"

"Ever since he was a little boy. Many times it pitches him into fire or the river to do away with him. IF you can do anything, do it. Have a heart and help us!"

Jesus said, "IF? There are no 'IFS' among believers. Anything can happen."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the father cried, "Then I believe. Help me with my doubts!"

~~~

"Then I believe. Help me with my doubts."

Something about these words resonate in my spirit this morning. Its as if I'm saying...

"Yes! Yes, okay? I believe. I believe. I've always believed in You. And who You are, God. And what all You can do. But that doesn't mean that I don't DOUBT. That I don't doubt that who You are - might not be who I need. Or that I don't doubt that what You can do - might not exactly be what I want. Or that I don't doubt that what you've done before - You will actually do for me. So yes, I believe. But excuse me if I still have my doubts."

So this morning, from the coziness of my couch, I will wrestle with my doubts. And I will recognize the normalcy of having them, for we all do. And then, after I've done so, after I've wrestled with them, and laid in them and wallered around in them and journaled about them and confessed them - I will lay them down. All the doubting. And I will pick up faith.

Because although the part that I identify most closely with this morning is the father and his doubts, the part I actually like the best is Jesus' comment, "IF? There are no "IFS" among believers. Anything can happen."

And anything can happen.
Anything.

If we tell him we're doubtful.

He loves brutal honesty.

What is you want to say to Him this morning? Of course you believe, but what is it your doubtful of? Be honest. Because anything can happen.

This Is Just To Catch You Up.

There is nothing special gonna go down in this blog post today. You won't want to re-read it or post it on your friends Facebook page or call your momma and read it to her over the phone. Not that you do those things, but I like to imagine the LA Times is abuzz over some of my recent writings.

Anyway...

1. I didn't post yesterday because I woke up at 3AM with a migraine. A migraine! Let me set the record straight: I am not a person who gets migraines. At least I don't think I do. I have headaches here and there, no more or less than the next person, but what I had yesterday was the kind where you can't sleep yet you can't keep your eyes open, you have to shut off the ice maker just to shut off the hum, and no amount of headache medicine will do so you pull out the big guns - Vicodin.

I finally started feeling relief but around noon, when the pain meds wore off it reared its ugly head and took me down again. I came home and tried to sleep but couldn't. Tried to eat but couldn't. Right about the time Mr. Patrick cranked up the mower right outside my window I thought for sure I was going to die. (And I thought the ice maker was loud.)

All is well now. Its been 24 hours, I feel like a new woman, but I have no ice for my tea.

2. I am into my second week of the Believing God Bible study at church. My friend, Karli and I are leading it. We were hoping for 15 women and God sent 30! We are so excited and happy to see what God does with this study but I will admit, I haven't done this study since I was pregnant with Elisha and so some of it really floods my mind with memories, some sweet, some bitter, and its opening up some new emotions in me.

Last night as we were sitting on the couch together the AG saw my little blue bracelet that Beth Moore suggests you were during the nine weeks of your study. He touches it and says...
"I see you are wearing your blue bracelet again."
"Yep."
"I remember the last time you wore a blue bracelet like this."
"Yep."
"I remember what you were believing God for."
"Yep."
"It didn't happen."
"Nope."
"And you're still believing Him?"
"Yep."
"Good to know."

And so he asked me what things I was believing God for this time and I told him. And I was surprised, as was he, that when I said them out loud they were requests that I had not made of God in a very long time. Things that I had asked God for, flippantly, as a young wife or young girl, but things that I had no business receiving and likely wouldn't have known what to do with them if I had. But they are of the utmost importance to me now and they are things I am truly believing for and I won't let go of until I see Him move.

3. If you were wondering above who Mr. Patrick was then you can check that out here, unless you are my mother-in-law, then I beg you not to read it!

4. The Oscars are coming on this weekend and for the first time in my life I am going to an Oscar party. In all my years I have only gone to one and it was because I threw it and I swore I'd never do it again because the people at the party talked! Can you imagine? So I've decided to go to the party, take my dessert to the party and even have fun at the party. But if anyone decides to talk while George Clooney is on the stage or if someone comments on how ridiculous Nicole Kidman looks when they know full well she is perfection - then I will just get my purse and leave. I am THAT fun at Oscar parties! For pete's sake people, that is what the foreign language and technical parts are for.

5. Ronnie is coming into town tonight. I am so excited to see him I think I am going to smother him with kisses, so I hope he's prepared for that. I am making him a big breakfast and a big lunch (because the man can eat!) and the one thing he has most certainly requested, the absolutely-un-enjoyable-to-make but oh-so-wonderful-to-eat Coca Cola Cake. Here it is, if its new to you, but hope to goodness it isn't! Enjoy!

1 cup Coca-Cola
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 cup butter or margarine, softened
1 3/4 cups sugar
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cocoa
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 cups miniature marshmallows

Preparation
Combine Coca-Cola and buttermilk; set aside.

Beat butter at low speed with an electric mixer until creamy. Gradually add sugar; beat until blended. Add egg and vanilla; beat at low speed until blended.

Combine flour, cocoa, and soda. Add to butter mixture alternately with cola mixture; begin and end with flour mixture. Beat at low speed just until blended.

Stir in marshmallows. Pour batter into a greased and floured 13- x 9-inch pan. Bake at 350° for 30 to 35 minutes. Remove from oven; cool 10 minutes. Pour Coca-Cola Frosting over warm cake; garnish, if desired.

Coca Cola Frosting

Ingredients
1/2 cup butter or margarine
1/3 cup Coca-Cola
3 tablespoons cocoa
1 (16-ounce) package powdered sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
Preparation
Bring first 3 ingredients to a boil in a large saucepan over medium heat, stirring until butter melts. Remove from heat; whisk in sugar and vanilla.

Garnish with 3/4 cup of chopped pecans, toasted.

Death Where Is Thy Sting? Oh, Wait...There It Is. (Bachelor Recap)

Let's take a quiz.

You're a man.

You're charming and handsome, rugged and Texan. You enjoy good food and loud music. You like to have fun and eat barbecue. When you go on a date, do you...
a. Go to a small town diner and taste the local flavor.
b. Picnic in the park, fly a kite, make dinner - at home - with your date.
c. Enjoy nice conversation, red wine and family bonding.
d. Pretend to be dead and imagine yourself being thrown into a raging furnace.

How did you do? Wanna try another one?

You're (still) a man.

You have four dates to go on with four very lovely women. You are excited for all of them because...
a. You get to meet their family and see if you mesh well with them.
b. You get to see the town they grew up in and learn more about them.
c. You enjoy seeing a different, more intimate side of each of them and feel a certain comfort level with them.
d. You get to lay perfectly still while someone pretends to drain you of your natural juices.

You did better on that one, didn't you?

Ya know, there are just some things you shouldn't do on a date. I, personally, don't recommend fairly obvious things like: throwing up, calling him by the wrong name or telling him you voted for Clinton (I'm kidding, y'all). But one would think that at some point in Mausoleum's life someone told her, "Honey, you are so beautiful. You are naturally gorgeous and women would kill for your legs. You really shouldn't bring a date to a funeral home, show him how to cremate people and ask him to pick out the crypt he wants to spend eternity in."

But that's just me. And I didn't date much. So maybe I was doing it all wrong.

But last nights Bachelor was anything but a shocker. All eight of us knew who was going home even before he handed out that last rose. So there was no screaming, no shrieking, no throwing things at the t.v. Just a lot of "I saw that comin'" or "well, what did she expect?" going around.

Next week he takes the last three of them to South Africa where I'm hoping (fingers crossed) that The Dentist gets lost in the jungle, My-Daddy-Owns-A-Car-Lot stands to close to a croc and the Bachelor and Emily decide to get married on top of an elephant. Which might sound completely ridiculous and crazy, but, my lovelies, this is The Bachelor. And I assure you...stranger things have happened.

Take Me Out To The Circus.

Several weeks ago I asked for help.

Remi's school was having a Circus for the 4year old class and so we were required to dress them up and decorate a bike or a scooter for them to ride. Some see this as a wonderful thing that the school puts on, I see it as a brazen attempt to punish parents for caring for their children too much, for loving on them, for raising them up right, etc.

But then again, I've always been a glass is half empty kinda girl.

Anyway, I asked for some suggestions for Remi the Lion Tamer. My gut told me that there would be 30 little girls in 4K dressed as dancers and Remi should be something different. My gut was wrong, there were 40 dancers. I've never been so proud to have a child dressed like Elton John in my life!

Laura and Amanda helped me find this outfit at www.leapsandbounds.com (just in case you yourself are trying to outfit a lion tamer, a ring master or an Elton John impersonator.) I knew the minute I saw it that my bloggy friends had not steered me wrong! Thanks, girlies.

Sweet Susie even offered her services for helping me make something. But there was no way I was going to take her up on that for fear that she would ask me to sew on a button or thread a needle. Nope. Wasn't going there.

We eventually had to get my Granny to make the burgundy vest that went underneath the jacket because Remi has recently hit a growth spurt and every time she raised her hands her leotard did some kind of Pamela Anderson plunge that her daddy wasn't wild about.

This is Remi on her cat wrangler bike. I know you wish you could buy a bike like this, all covered in cheetah print and feathers, but I assure you - you can't. It's easy to make, though: you just sit up until midnight in the living room floor with your spouse, wrap a bike in crepe paper, make a sign on construction paper and fight with each other saying things like, "Why didn't I get this done yesterday? Because I was busy eating bonbons, that's why." "Whaddaya mean, I'm not sensitive? I'm wrapping a Barbie bike in cheetah print! I'm working with gold bows and fur. And I think I just hot glued my finger to a training wheel!"

I love this picture because her hands were in the air. Which is to say that most of the time they were in her clothes or in her backside. That durn leotard kept creeping into places that it really shouldn't have. Remi was quite upset about it, at one point she dropped her baton and told the little boy beside her to pick it up. I couldn't quite tell what she was saying to him but when I asked her later she said, "I told him I can't bend over cuz my behind will hurt." Four year old men just have no idea!

See what I mean?

Personally, I think they put her on the top because she was the cutest. But maybe it was because no one would be seen over her top hat. Either way, cutest kid there. But maybe that's just me.

The Scream Heard Round The World (Bachelor Recap)

* Please note: The Bachelor came on Monday night, but I was Valentinin' it up with The AG and put off watching it until last night. So yes, I am a day late and a dollar short. Story of my life. Carry on...

~~~

Let's not confuse the issue: It says Bachelor recap in the title, but this isn't a recap at all.

A recap is where you go through the previous night's episode and replay it moment by moment for your friends who missed it.

But to that I say: If you missed it - then you aren't my friend!

Seriously, my lovelies, am I still having to convince some of you to watch this show? Why? Why is that? Is it that you are one of those people who are so self-controlled that you refuse to allow yourself one moment of down time? One moment of such guilty pleasure that you lay on your couch in the pajamas that you've had on all day, the ones with the chili stain on the front, and feed your mortality with Dr. Pepper and Double Stuffed Oreo's?

Not that I've ever done that.

Though that was oddly specific.

So I will not, can not, recap last night's episode for you because if you missed it - well, you missed it. Because in my house, it was the moment we've all been waiting for. The thrilla in manilla. The scream heard round the world.

30th BIRTHDAY IS GONE!

I wouldn't have believed it myself had I not been sitting in my living room surrounded by The Bachelorettes (its the name we've given ourselves, its catchy and it took us literally 2 seconds to come up with it) eating our usual diet of buttered popcorn and peanut M&M's. But there she was and then - poof! - she was gone.

I'm not gonna lie. It was glorious.

* It was like that time in high school when the really beautiful girl who was voted "Best Body" ran for cheerleader for the 15th consecutive year but then actually lost to the new girl with fallen arches and an overbite. Only that never happened because High School stunk!!

We all screamed and rewound it and watched it again and screamed again and rewound it one more time and then didn't scream so loudly the third time because we were all tuckered out.

So there's my Bachelor Recap. It wasn't so much a recap as it was my thoughts on The Bachelor and 30th Birthday and high school cheerleaders. But stay tuned next week when he goes to visit their families. This always brings the show to a different level because families can make ya or break ya.

Take mine, for instance. Were I (or for the sake of reality, Meridith) to ever bring The Bachelor home one could reasonably expect that...
a.) He would be shocked to find that my Granny will never serve a meal that doesn't have all three of these specific elements: wieners, cottage cheese and a half eaten can of peaches.
b.) My mother wholeheartedly believes its okay to give your American Express number to someone over the phone if they're conversation begins with the words, "You've won!"
c.) My dad can fall asleep standing up.

See how the game can change?

I Am My Daddy's And He Is Mine.

I think is speaks a lot about a man who takes his little girl out on a date.
I think it speaks VOLUMES if that little girl is Remi Hope.

I wish you could have heard him ask her out.

"Remi, would you be my Valentine and go out on a date with me tonight? I'd like to pick you up and we can go anywhere you want to..."
"To see Gnomeo and Juliet?"
"If that's what you want..."
"And to eat sushi?"
"Yep, if that's where you want to..."
"Well it is."
"Then I'll pick you up at 5."
"Is that when the sun is up or down?"
"The sun will still be up."
"Okay, I'll see you then."






He wasn't aware of the "don't kiss on the first date rule". He wasn't aware of that with me 17 years ago and apparently he still hasn't get the memo. Ah well. He's too sweet to refuse.

(And someone please notice that little foot kicked back. Please! Hers. Not his.)

Here they are headed out. I'm not a proud mama at all, am I? Following them out like I'm a photographer for US magazine. She was somewhat proud of the balloon and rose. It followed her to every landmark they visited. I'm sure the folks behind her at the movies were thrilled about that.

And what kind of date is it if the guy doesn't open the car door for you? Its not a date, that's what! The AG's parents may have messed up a lot of things with him (for instance, he refuses to hang up a wet towel, he's not great at picking up his clothes, he would eat junk food like a Bachelor every day of his life if I'd let him and I have to remind him about the trash every. single. day.) but he treats his daughter like a princess and I haven't opened a car door in 17 years. Hmmm...well, whaddayaknow...I suppose they did teach him some things!

And yes, that is a front seat.
And no, there isn't a car seat in it.
And yes, she sat there.

But they were on a date! Please look up Child Protective Services for the State of Texas if you'd like to have him turned in. But you should feel ashamed if you do.

As much as I'm going to enjoy going out with him tonight it did more good for my heart to see him take her on a date. It probably did more for her 4-year old heart than she'd ever let us know, too. Going on a date with a daddy who cherishes you instills a confidence in you that can't be measured or equaled. Not to mention, later on in life, every man must try and measure up to the standard your daddy set. And having been with the AG for all these years now, I can tell you, no one ever will.

Happy Valentines Day!

Come Aboard. We're Expecting You.

Love, exciting and new....

Oh yeah. I bought this. And I am thrilllllllled about it.

You can tell me all day that The Bachelor isn't real;l choosing a girl you've only known 30 days, giving her a rose, whisking her off to Tahiti and proposing to her in front of America. You can say that isn't real...

But winding up on a cruise ship with your ex-husband, Chita Rivera and the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders all at the same time, watching Gopher and Doc don wigs and pretend to be a cheerleader just to cause you such jealousy that you fall back in love with your ex-husband all the while spilling your guts out to a Bartender who plied you with drinks and gave you sound, love advice?

That, my lovelies, is real.

Anyone wanna come over and join me? It only takes a passport, a drink with an umbrella in it and very very open mind.

And I Though Target Had Bad Customer Service.

Its been a while since I have given you any news from the 75904. Its not that we haven't had any. Oh, no. News happens around here on a minute by minute basis. Its just that more times than not its embarrassing. I don't want you all to think that I live in some po-dunk town devoid of real crime. Because I don't. The 75904 is a gang wasteland people. Hardcore. Very hardcore.

Just take the news last week about the man who hit his wife with a plastic baseball bat and sprayed Febreeze in her face because she popped her bubble game in his face. That was our headline in the paper. I told you, we're hardcore around here.

And apparently so is this poor guy who simply wanted what we all want: TO BE HEARD. (Well, he actually wanted more than most of us want unless most of us go to County Road 6101 for our jollies.) But he also wanted to be heard. But he wasn't. The customer service around there was bad, reeealll bad. So he took matters into his own hands. Thank heaven he didn't have a bottle of Febreeze in his hand.

~~~

Nacogdoches man reportedly admits taking laptop as refund from prostitute

NACOGDOCHES COUNTY, Texas (KTRE) - Nacogdoches County deputies arrested a Nacogdoches man early Monday after they say he admitted to taking a woman's laptop computer as a refund to money he paid her earlier for sex.

Carlos Ramirez, 25, is charged with burglary, a second-degree felony, and prostitution, a class B misdemeanor.

According to the complaint report, deputies were dispatched to County Road 6101 in reference to a burglary. When they arrived, a woman told them Ramirez stole a laptop from her residence while she was next door.

Deputies interviewed Ramirez, who reportedly told them he had paid the woman for sex and wanted some of the money back. According to the complaint, Ramirez said she refused to return any money, so he took the laptop, thinking she would be persuaded to return some of the money.

Sheriff Thomas Kerss explained that Ramirez said he "paid the woman by the month, and did not feel she gave him what he wanted" enough times.

Deputies arrested Ramirez on the burglary and prostitution charges, in addition to two municipal warrants.

According to the Texas Penal Code, a person commits prostitution if they pay or receive a fee for sex.

Kerss said his office is investigating prostitute charges on the woman.

"Those cases are hard to prove, but we're looking into his allegations," he said.

~~~

When you think about it, the man could have taken some Tupperware. Maybe a cast iron skillet. Or a box of laundry detergent. But a laptop? I'm not sure what she short-changed him on but it appears that she owed him, big time.

I also think its funny that the article referred to the "Penal" Code. But again, that's probably just me.

Cattiness is NOT Next to Godliness. (Bachelor Recap)

So here's the problem with women...

Sometimes they can be catty.

I say "they" as if I'm not one. But I am. And sometimes I can be catty, too. Like a couple of days ago when I met someone who reminded me of someone else so I decided not to be friends with the NEW person because they reminded me too much of the OLD person and I was still mad at the OLD one, as if it that were the NEW one's fault.

Ridiculous.

But last night, the Bachelor was filled with such cattiness that all of us watching shrieked and clawed and growled our way through the episode wishing to goodness we could scratch a couple of their eyes out. (The Bachelor tends to bring out the worst in us, I can't lie.)

Last night's episode of the Bachelor was filled with so much 30th Birthday that it would make any man in America run for the hills. But not our Bachelor. Bless his heart, he must have signed some kind of contract that legally ties him to the crazies whether he likes it or not. At some point he has had to find himself sitting across from a producer saying, "Please, can I let her go? I've woken up the past two nights to find her staring at me with a pair of scissors."

30th Birthday spent the entire episode telling him what is wrong with the other ladies in the house - and what is right with her. He doesn't need that! I'm sure he can hear all of us screaming at the television, "Her boobs are fake! Send her home!" Or "Everyone she knows is dead.....let her staaaayyyy!!"

But Brad, in his usual Brad fashion, kept 30th Birthday around one more week and let I-don't-have-a-petite-behind go home; which was only a matter of time - good Lord, watching them on a date was like watching two strangers on a subway try to kindle a romance, only way more awkward.

He also kept around her-daddy-owns-a-car-lot, which I'm suspecting is going to stay around for a while given her penchant for sauntering around in his shirt, telling him she loves him and proclaiming that every day with him is sweeter than the day before.

And then there's sweet Emily, who we all decided is most certainly invited to come and watch next seasons Bachelor with us if she promises to gain a lot of weight, complain that her joints hurt whenever the weather changes, and let her roots grow out a little bit; because all of her perfection is starting to rub us the wrong way.

And I didn't mean that catty in the least.

Meow.

Can You Believe They Let Me Take My Dog In Old Navy?

Me: No, you can't stay here with them the rest of the day!

Her: Why not?

Me: Because you're not a manneq....uh, you know what?

I'm not discussing this. We're going home.

Her: Why don't you like them?

Me: I like them fine.

Her: Is it because they don't have belly buttons?

Me: How do you know they don't?

Her: I spent some time lookin'.

The Enemy of Union.

She told me, "I'm going through a divorce. A terrible divorce."

And exactly 48 hours later I was still asking myself, "Am I dreaming?" "Did she really just say that to me?" "Am I sure I was talking to her or did I just create this fantasy world in my head?"

So I asked her again.

And she told me again. "We're getting a divorce."

And that was when I began to put thought to the words. I began to think, aloud, all of the things that were going through my head. And I went to my husband and I sunk down in front of him and asked him to remind me why really crappy things happen to really special people.

I didn't take her news so hard because it was HER. Though, if you knew her and loved her like I do, you might have wanted to scream a little (as I did). And it wasn't because I thought she was immune to anything that the rest of us mere mortals must deal with. It wasn't because she hid a breaking heart so enviably. Or because when she cried her mascara never ran...

It was just because the news - "divorce" - is all too common. Its as common as having the flu; only with consequences a mile long. With the flu you are down, but you get up and eventually your body carries on. With a divorce, you are down and it wreaks its havoc on the whole family. Everyone suffers. No one is immune.

And I thought about my own marriage. I thought about how I want to run away sometime just so he'll have to empty the dishwasher. I thought about how if someone held a magnifying glass up to it they might see all sorts of holes filled with putty and rag-tag patches holding seems together. But that at a distance it is quite lovely and certainly fun. Just like yours, probably. Pretty on the outside. Weathered on the in.

Mine is mis-matched but lovely.
It is worn, but fits perfectly.
It might be shabby, but its mine.
Look closely at our seams, you'll see they've been stretched, but never faltered.

So what, then, is the difference in her marriage and mine?
My marriage and yours?
Your marriage and your neighbors?

Not much, really. Both are sought after, day after day, minute after minute, by an enemy intent on our demise. Sometimes its not the dishwashers that need emptying - its the bushes. For Satan lies wait in them, seeking whom he may devour. His goal is only the marriage; kill that, and he gets all that dies with it.

Anyone feel like puttying up some holes, today?

Patching up some tears?

Protecting some valuables?

You Have A Little Leakage On Your Chin. (Bachelor Recap)

There are 3 guaranteed ways to know that The Bachelor episode you are about to watch is going to be stellar:

1. You are surrounded by friends.

2. You are surrounded by twice as many Peanut M&M's as friends.

3. Within the first five minutes he goes on a date with an embalmer who talks to him about "vein drains," "leakage," and "molding a face."

Aaaaahhhh. Pass the popcorn, won't you? Mama's suddenly got an appetite.

I suppose I could recap this past episode for you, but it wouldn't do you any good. The Bachelor at this point is like the tenth week of American Idol: You still got four terrible singers and a guy with a sob story you gotta vote off before you can get down to the ones who should really be there.

And that's how The Bachelor is right now. Oh sure, we're getting closer and closer every week, but we've still got Not a Petite Behind and Food Critic that are weighing us down like dead cargo. We gotta throw those suckers overboard so we can move this ocean liner along.

See how crass I get when I watch this show?

You should see me when someone steals my popcorn bowl.

Sure that will leave us with nutso-crazy 30th Birthday, the high-maintenance Dentist and the Embalmer, but if a Dentist and embalmer don't sound like a good time waitin' to happen - you are wrong! (Actually, it sounds like some B-horror movie just waitin' to happen.)

So The Bachelor this week was just another episode where we sit through the ordinary to get to the extraordinary: The moment when we can finally say...

"Here we are, the last four. This is the time when we dissect these women down to their smallest pinky nail. The moment when we follow them on home-town dates and tear their families apart piece by piece by piece. The moment when we see them interact with his family and make classic fools of themselves and we sit back and laugh at their pain while thinking to ourselves, 'Brad, it could have been worse - she could have been an embalmer.' The moment when we ask ourselves 'will it be Emily, the angelic choir-girl who just wants to love and be loved? Or will it be 30th Birthday, who appears to be one hairstyle away from killing everyone she rooms with?' The moment when we pause the television to ask, 'Is she really wearing those shoes with that dress?' or make comments like, 'If I had a body like that I'd wear that bathing suit, too.'"...

and it will be all the more sweeter because I will be saying it with good, Godly women like myself.

So pop the popcorn, pour in the M&M's and wipe that leakage from your chin, cuz this is about to get reeeeeal good.