I’m trying to be excited. Really. Truly. It’s hard, though, knowing there will be no hotness this year. Again.
This hotness:

But. Life goes on and so does the Superbowl. Even without the hotness. And so I will attempt to make my:

Annual Superbowl Prediction.

It won’t be easy and this is why:

1. I know nothing about football. Except that Tom Brady is hot.

2. My second tried and true ‘who should I root for and therefore predict as the victor’ method is usually to pick the best looking uniform. Well, both the Colts uniforms and Da Bears uniforms suck big fat eggs. Butt ugly. The Colts have a slight–very slight–advantage in that their ugly blue isn’t as ugly as Da Bears’ ugly blue.

3. I know that–as a Pats fan–I’m supposed to hate Peyton Manning. But I don’t. Mostly because “Peyton” is a cool name.

However. I have decided to root for Da Bears and this is why:

I think it’s fun to say “Da Bears” just like the dudes on SNL. And so:

KEL’S PREDICTION:

Bears: 29378
Colts: 7

Or something like that.

Wednesday evening I hit a deer on the way home from my friend’s house. Behold the following cell phone conversation:

Me: (frantic, freaked out) Oh my God! Oh my God! I hit a deer!

Hubby: (frantic, freaked out) Are you hurt? (instant bonus points for hubby)

Me: (not quite so frantic, but still freaked out) No. I’m fine. But…I…hit…a…DEER!!!

Hubby: How bad is it damaged?

Me: It’s dead.

Hubby: What?! Totalled?

Me: Well yeah, I creamed it pretty hard.

Hubby: Not the deer, you dope (bonus points taken away instantly) the van!

Me: Beats the hell outta me.

I was still hovering over the poor, dead, mangled deer and so had no time for trivialities like damaged mini vans. (For all my guy readers: dented bumper. Goes in to be fixed on Monday. Comprehensive coverage. God Bless Allstate. We’re in Good Hands.)

A friend of mine has a fifteen year old daughter who works a paper route. The family is going away this coming weekend and I offered to take over the route while they were gone. Early this morning I drove the kid through her rounds so that I would have at least a vague clue of what I was doing come this weekend. Here are my initial thoughts:

1. Damn! Three o’clock comes twice a day?

2. Motion sensor lights are a good thing.

3. So are circular driveways.

4. Waking someone’s dog in the middle of the night is not a good thing.

5. Neither are skunks, especially when camped out underneath a deck. (In case you are reading this, Mrs. Mullis, that is why you did not get your newspaper this morning.)

6. Tip your paperboy/girl/woman. Generously.

Went to see Pirates of the Carribean #2 yesterday with the hubby. Very likely the boringest sequel ever*. I fell asleep. That is right. Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom were bringing the hotness, not to mention that there was this pretty cool CGI Davy Jones squid guy…and I still fell asleep**.

* I forgot about “Oceans Twelve.”

** I literally fell asleep.

My buddy H2 requested me to update this poor, neglected blog.
Here is an update, for what it’s worth.

I’m editing the book I blogged so much about in the merry, merry month of March. And let me tell you now: Editing a book isn’t as much fun as writing it.

It’s not the spelling and grammatical mistakes. That I can do with my eyes closed (and with the help of my very excellent spell check!) It’s the whole “fill in this gaping plot hole” thing, and the “this character is one dimensional” problem and the “WTF is this steaming pile of horse crap you call a chapter?????” quandry.

It ain’t sexy (unlike my book–Hi Mom!!!) but it’s an update.

I am pretty excited.
My new house came with a dishwasher, the first one I have ever had.
I used it today for the first time.

Kel has finally arrived in the 20th Century!
That’s right. 20th. Not 21st.

I discovered this the hard way: don’t unload the dishes right after the dishwasher stops. Those suckers are freaking HOT!!!

I was reading the headlines on my Yahoo homepage and came across this:

“King Kong star, Black celebrates son, ‘Nacho.'” [insert picture of Jack Black here]

I swear to Bob, I thought the headline meant that Jack Black (whom I love more dearly than just about anybody out there) had named his son Nacho. Turns out he’s celebrating the birth of his son, name unknown to me at this time, and the release of his new movie “Nacho Libre.”

Although I consider myself pretty laid back in general on the whole celebrities-giving-their-kids-weird-names thing, that frightened me just a tad.

…that’s what I want to see.

I’m sick and tired of no talent freaks like Jessica Simpson and useless pseudo-celebrities like Paris Hilton (and countless others just like them) trying to convince my daughter that she needs to be a vapid, brainless, pencil thin sex object in order to succeed. And I am damn sick and tired of the entertainment industry shining the spotlight on them. But what I am REALLY sick and tired of is the fact that the American public is falling for it.

STOP IT!

Stop buying their music, stop paying to see their movies, stop reading the trashy magazines that hold them up as some sort of role models, and for God’s sake find your daughters some REAL women to look up to.

Thank you, Pink, for writing this song.

Stupid Girl

You may, or possibly may not, remember my bout with the March Baseball Blues. In particular I was still mourning the loss of Mr. Doug Mirabelli, Esq. But now we’ve got him back.

A certain man I know who writes a sports column was last week urging Red Sox Nation to give up on my beloved pitcher man, Tim Wakefield. Now with the return of Mr. Mirabelli I predict great things for Mr. Wakefield. So much so that said sports columnist Rob Poindexter, under the influence of my 15 minute rant (believe me, you’d do anything to shut me up too after only half that time) has agreed to retract the vicious statements made in last week’s column if Timmy Boy wins 12 games this season. (Originally he said 15, but I reasoned with him that at least three of his losses don’t count due to Josh Bard’s 1948483284949372 passed balls.)

Bring on the Yankees!!!

If you are as stuck in the 80’s as me then Click here <—-to read “Revisiting Live Aid” by Julie Wiskirchen. It’s a 1985 vs. 2005 reaction to Live Aid following last year’s release of the concert onto DVD. I only today became aware of this article (thanks Uncle James–who isn’t really my uncle) which is a hilarious yet sentimental review of the 80’s biggest concert phenomenon. And mullets.

A Thompson Twin (who isn’t really a twin):