The Tool Awards: Jada Pinkett Smith as "Christina Hawthorne"

Picture me rolling my eyes. I watch a lot of TNT, because they know drama. If you've ever been unemployed, you know that daytime television leaves a lot to be desired, ever since:

1. John and Marlena were written off Days of Our Lives
2. Sherri Sheppard joined the ladies of The View
3. The E! Network has Kardashian coverage on a 24-hour feed
4. VH1's programming is geared towards a target audience that couldn't pass the GED exam. Or a syphillis exam.

Part of the drag of watching daytime television is the endless, repetitious promotion of their evening programming, most of which I don't give a toot about. (I'm trying out the word "toot", as I feel my sailor-like use of profanity is both unladylike and not baby-friendly.)

So, TNT is home to a medical drama called HawthoRNe. Isn't that clever? The title character is named Christina Hawthorne, and she's a Registered Nurse- RN. Get it? (Read that with a dollop of sarcasm.) It's about a feisty nurse who is so devoted to her patients that she isn't afraid to start a ruckus if that's what it takes to get the job done. You know the type, she's not afraid to be unpopular and take on "The Man". Yeah, it's a fresh new take on the medical drama. Let's allow TNT to describe this profoundly complex character for you (TNT prefers "dynamic" and "layered"):

"Christina Hawthorne is the kind of woman who always finds that extra something when it seems there’s nothing left to give. She is a woman of fiery passion when it comes to her patients, never being satisfied with doing something halfway. In her new role at James River, she’s not about to let another hospital slip into oblivion. On the homefront, she is trying to move on after her husband’s death, flirting with the possibility of a relationship with Dr. Wakefield. She tries to keep her teenage daughter in line while at the same time realizing she is growing into a young woman. "

Jada's performance of the trite dialogue is so heavy-handed that I can't help but laugh. This week's episode promises to show us Christina as we've never seen her before (read this with a deep, dramatic television announcer's voice): "Secrets...Surprises...and Marc Anthony!"

I hear the same soundbytes of dialogue in these promotional spots for the show so many times, I've taken to quoting her to Steve:

Christina Hawthorne: Is this the Ethics Department? Because I have an ethics COMPLAINT!

Nurse ObviouslyDoesn'tCareAsMuchAsChristinaHawthorne: Unfortunately, that's how the system works.
Christina Hawthorne: Unfortunately, the system isn't WORKING!

Christina Hawthorne: I may have lost the battle, but I won't lose the war.

Christina Hawthorne: There's no storm strong enough to keep me off my game. I'm Christina Hawthorne, and I run this.

Dr. Michael Vartan: You're out of bounds, Christina.
Christina Hawthorne: No, you're the one who's out of bounds.

Cops: You're under arrest.
Christina Hawthorne: Get off of me! I'm a nurse!

Sad Asian Kid: Is she gonna die?
Christina Hawthorne: Not on my watch.

Christina Hawthorne: I've gotta go slay the dragon, in his lair.

Head Doc In Charge: I need the names of six nurses you're willing to fire by the end of the day.
Christina Hawthorne: Are their cameras in here? Because I feel like I'm being punk'd.

This is like the medical drama equivalent of Natural Light beer. It's made of the recirculated stuff that wasn't deemed eligible to be in the quality stuff. In other words, I'd love it...if I'm already drunk.

iPhone 4 vs. HTC EVO

I'm a T-Mobile gal, so I've felt the sting of embarrassment for not being able to jump on the cool kids bandwagon and have an iPhone of my very own, so this little viral video gave me a chuckle.



Thanks, Steve (via Sabo)!

The One Where Libby Gets Snipped

Libby is getting spayed today. Libby is three. Considering that my earliest childhood dreams were to either:

A. Be one of Barker's Beauties like my first redhead icon, Holly Hallstrom, or

B. Meet Bob Barker in Contestant's Row, play Plinko, spin $1.00 on the Big Wheel, and win the Showcase Showdown

...you'd think I'd heed Bob's sage advice to help control the pet population by having my pets spayed and neutered. So why isn't Libby spayed already? Funny story (not really).

When George ran away in October 2007, my job as a Mortgage Consultant at Countrywide Home Loans was circling the drain. It was the beginning of the subprime mortgage crisis. Everyday I came to work, the guidelines were stricter, the loan options were fewer, and layoffs were happening at any and every moment. We worked in a cube farm on the sixth floor of this office building, and at various points throughout my final weeks at work, the Vice President would walk towards our corner of the cube farm, and begin pointing at people all around me and canning them right then and there. It was like a corporate version of Nintendo's Duck Hunt and I was just trying not to get shot.

Since I was devastated that George was missing, and sitting in a cubicle waiting to be fired was stressful, and having to tell potential borrowers all day long that I can't help them get a loan was depressing, I spent a lot of time on the internet looking for George. Yeah, that was a fruitless search, but it's where I found Libby. She was staying in a shelter in Gainesville, some 75 miles from where I live. When I called the shelter and learned that the only requirements for adoption were a photocopy of my drivers license and an $85 adoption fee, I decided I was meant to save her. I promptly quit my job and withdrew $85 from the nearest ATM. That's the flimsiest adoption process I've ever heard of, and I didn't want just any old hack to take her. When I adopted Laney, the fee was $250, and I had to fill out lengthy paperwork, pass a home inspection, give a veterinary reference, and take a blood oath to give that puppy the kind of life that other puppies only read about in fairytales.

Libby was not doing so hot when I met her. Her mother was a stray who delivered a litter of puppies in a random barn on a farm. The farmer's wife discovered the mom and the puppies. When she returned a couple days later to collect them to take to the shelter, the mother was gone. Now, four months later, all of Libby's sisters had been adopted and Libby had developed kennel cough, so she had a major case of the sads. The vet tech at the shelter told me that all she needed was "love". And a course of antibiotics. The $85 adoption fee included her vaccinations, her kennel cough medicine, her spay surgery, and a microchip. I was told the microchip had not yet been implanted because Libby hasn't been feeling well, but that I was welcome to drive the 150 mile round trip to return to the pound and have it implanted once she was feeling better. Thanks, but no thanks. Libby sat in my lap as I drove home, and we lived happily ever after...

Until seven months later when somebody got her period in my bed. I was horrified! I went through my records, found the documentation stating she'd been spayed, and called the shelter. Oops, there must have been a clerical error! They spayed all of her sisters, but not Libby because she was sick. They meant to go back and spay her later, but then this nice lady adopted her...

That's when panic set in. Libby has been sharing a crate with George, who by this time has returned to our home but is still not neutered. What if they made puppies? What if Libby is knocked up? My vet offers to x-ray Libby to see if there are puppies so we can know whether or not to have her spayed just yet. You see, puppy abortion is not on my list of things to do. After the vet has a chance to review Libby's x-ray, they determine that there are no puppies in her womb, but that her intestines are full of poo and the vet tech complained that Libby passed some stinky farts during the x-ray process. Thanks a lot. I didn't need an $85 x-ray to tell me that my mutt is stinky and full of shit.

My vet would spay her for $350. Steve and I have a friend who is close friends with a local vet, and Steve was of the belief that this vet may spay Libby in exchange for golf balls. Since I would rather pay in golf balls than dollar bills, I asked Steve to broker that little deal. Two years later...

I'm sitting on my couch, holding my newborn son, when Mom says to me, "Uh oh. I see blood drops on the tile. One of the dogs must have hurt themselves. We need to check all of their paws." I don't say anything, but in my head I'm all Catherine Willows from CSI.

I'm saying to myself, "Is it blood drops or blood smears? If it's not a smear, it didn't come from their paws, and if it's a drop, then it came from...Libby's vajayjay!" I didn't want to think about it. Please don't let Libby be in heat.

Not to be outdone by me and the arrival of my baby, Libby proved that I was not the only bitch in the house capable of reproducing. She would not allow me to hog the spotlight. Neither would Gus. After two weeks in my home, where Gus largely ignored Libby, he suddenly wanted to ride her like a pony. Then, in front of Mom, Robinson, and me, Gus began to hump Libby's face. "Libby, Libby, make him  buy you dinner first!" I joked. Mom's not amused.

So here we are. Libby will be snipped by supper, thus closing the book on the Libby's Vajayjay Chronicles.

That's What Misty Said

My sleeping newborn hasn't provided much in the way of blogging material, and he takes up 100% of my time.  The brother emailed me this nugget so I have something to post. Thanks, Jarred!

Misty: Jay is it disperse? or disberse?
Jarred: Like to spread something around? disperse, I'm afraid disberse isn't a word.
Misty: Are you sayin 'perse? or 'berse?
Jarred: dis' like you diss your homies, and 'perse like the bag you keep your keys in

Misty then boasted that she could fit 6 minature Snickers bars in her mouth. I overheard such quotes as:

"I'm not doing it until I see how big they are."

"Yeah, I want to put them all in my mouth at once."

"I really had to struggle to pry it out of my mouth."

"Choking on it was not an option."

PS. She did get all 6 in there right as my boss was walking back in, she ran to the bathroom and spit them all out. It was a major disappointment.

Mommy's Little Quarterback

This is a 12-month-old size onesie, but his papa really wanted him to wear his jersey to watch the game last night!