"Pimp My Bed: The Male Sleep Lair" -- SERIOUSLY!!?!?

"Bed makers are manning up.

"After years of catering to women, manufactuers are setting their sights on men. The new macho mattresses they're introducing have 'muscle-recovering properties' and cooling technology, on the theory that men are more likely to feel too hot in bed. The bed frame features built-in TV's, iPod docking stations, wine coolers, a safe, and other guy-friendly gadgetry.

"...a 33-yr.-old real-estate investor in Philadelphia, paid $30,000 for a Hollandia Internaitonal adjustable bed that offers a built-in 32-inch Sony flat-screen TV, surround-sound speakers and outlets for laptops.

"The new man-cave is the bed."



Seriously?!



I kid you not.

I'm sorry, but don't most women have a hard enough time getting their boyfriend/husband out of bed and away from the TV? In my opinion, this is either genius of the demise of the human race as we know it. Either the world will crumble since most men won't want to get out of bed in the mornings and continue their normal routine (actually, we're quite safe from this, since I didn't read where they had installed a toilet at the foot of the bed), OR it could be brilliant if the men don't want to leave their "man lair" -- leaves women to run the world!

After all, "When men get bored, they start a war. When women get bored, they go shopping."

See? I think we've found the solution to world peace, all from the comforts of our own bed/wine cooler/TV stand/iPod dock/outlet station.

Now how many do you want to bet they actually sell of these things?

pop-culture commentary -- because i know you care what i think

Totally agreeing with EW's commentary on why we love DWTS, but in this season, WHERE IS MARK BALLAS, otherwise known as the GUILTY-PLEASURE REASON I WATCH THE SHOW.
(UPDATE: Appears that Mark Ballas appeared on night two of the 3-night show, and is partnered with Melissa Joan Hart, aka Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Even though I'm not sure they'll be the team to win, they're by-far my favorite team! Thinking Aaron Carter is going to win, though...)

LOVE Glee, despite it's awkward moments, especially the Push It dance and the dancing with balloons as spacers.

J&K+8 = enough, Jon, ENOUGH. Seriously. But I loved the story that the (hopefully ex-) nanny told InTouch about how he's not that great in bed. Et tu, karma?

The New Moon stills on The LA Times website -- be still, my beating heart. But honestly, only for the ones of Taylor Lautner and his marvelous, fantastic, sizzling, eye-popping abs. -sigh-

The Emmys: thought Debra Messing looked stunning, and didn't agree with the critics hating Hayden P's dress. I thought it looked great, but maybe I'm just partial to the color red. or maybe I just don't have good fashion sense -- wouldn't surprise me.

Obama on Letterman. Seriously, dude, don't you have some better things do to rather than endorse your celebrity status? Like, running the country? Investigating the ACORN scandal (for more info, go read about it at FOXnews.com)? Getting the troops out of Iraq like you promised to do "within 60 days of taking office"? Yeah buddy, might want to get your priorities straight.

A Thought-Provoking Fire Drill

Yesterday, the building I worked in had a scheduled fire drill. However, in an attempt to prevent distrupting the workday as much as possible, they ran the drill in 2 different waves. The lower level though 10th floor went in the morning, and then 11-19 had their drill in the afternoon. It wasn't that bad, and it gave us a nice excuse to walk outside and enjoy the sunshine for 20 minutes while the rest of the floors filed out of the building.

As we learn from a young age, during a fire drill or an actual emergency, the elevators won't be in operation, so the stairwells are the only available exit. As my coworkers and I followed the herd down the stairs, I couldn't help but think how different the atmosphere would be if it was an actual fire. The panic, the stress, the worry about loved ones or the important files we left in our desks.

Then I realized what the date was. September 10th. And that tomorrow [or now, today] would be September 11. I can't even begin to imagine the panic and adrenaline that people must have felt as they rushed down the stairs, not knowing if the World Trade Center or Pentagon was going to collapse on top of them at any minute. It's at that point in your life when you realize all the things that you worried about before -- the unpaid bills, that extra 10 pounds that you're REALLY going to lose this time, trying to get the kids to soccer practice -- become insignificant. I know that if I were in that position (and thank the Lord Almighty that I wasn't, and I didn't personally know anyone who was), I would be thinking of all the things I would do, if I just had one more day. The things I wouldn't worry about, the things that I would tell my loved ones, the things that I would have wished I had been able to do.

Nine-eleven. I don't think that even 50 years from now when this date comes, I will forget to take a moment and pray for those 2,993 people who died. The firement, police officers, EMTs, and civilians who lost their lives at the hand of terrorism and hate. The people who were left behind to deal with the loss, those who spent months of their lives at Ground Zero, shifting through the debris, dreading the moment when they would find a body part and have to tell yet another family that their loved one had perished. I won't forget that when I first heard of the attacks, I was listening to the radio and brushing my teeth, getting ready for school. I won't forget thinking, "Oh, a plane crashed. Even though that's awful, they happen all the time." (I didn't yet know that they had crashed into the WTC towers). I won't forget sitting in my Spanish classroom, watching the horror unfold on the news, and my teacher asking us how many believed a war would follow this event. I won't forget looking around the classroom, and seeing 95% of my classmates raise their hands, along with my own. Or the worry that the Hanford Nuclear Plant would be a potential target. Or the pictures in the newspaper the next day, showing the smoking towers, reading about the heroic passengers who forced the highjackers to crash their plane in a remote Pennsylvania field, or the "jumpers," who would have rather crashed into the pavement below than die from the smoke and flames engulfing their offices.

America will always remember 9/11/2001 as a variety of things: the day of the largest attack since Pearl Harbor, Patriot Day, or the eveny that started the War on Terror. While I too will remember it with these labels, I will also remember it as a day to reflect on my life, and how fragile it truly is. We will always remember those who lost their lives, and those they left behind. And what we can learn from it all -- we live in the most powerful, wonderful, free country in the world. And no act of terror will ever change that.

Rantings and Random Ramblings

This is just one of those weird weeks, you know? The kind where you don't work on Monday (but still got paid for it -- sweeeeeeeeeet) so the rest of the week is screwed up because you can't remember what day it is, and that just messes up the internal body clock like no other. At least it's Friday!! Anyways....

1. Anyone else tired of hearing about politics all the dang time? I mean, I'm no Obama fan (FAR from it, actually), but seriously, folks. Let's not make this harder than it already is! But, as I read once, the term 'politics' reflects so perfectly the true nature of the profession: poli, from the Greek word meaning 'many,' and -tics, which are tiny bloodsucking creatures. Call me young, call me ignorant, but "CAN'T WE ALL JUST GET ALONG?!?!?"

2. "If I find the misogynistic bastard that invented heels, I'll kill him." Can I get a second, ladies? Yesterday I made the unfortunate decision to wear some (quite fabulous) heels on my walk to the library. On the 16 blocks there, I was just fine and dandy. 9 blocks into the return trip, I'm starting to regret my decision. After the full 32 blocks and I'm limping my way into the lobby of my building, the blisters on top of my feet are screaming in agony. And now I'm thinking of investing in the Band-Aid brand, since I've probably used enough of their product in the last 24 hours to greatly increase their stock value. You're welcome, Johnson&Johnson.

3. I'm sorely tempted to start buying my lunch at the cafeteria in the building next door every day. I mean, where else can you get a LOADED small salad, made exactly to your specifications, with virtually no prep work, all for less than $4? That's right, my spinach salad with cherry tomatoes, red bell pepper, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, peas, sunflower seeds, grilled chicken, topped off with fat-free honey mustard dressing was ONLY $3.64!!! If you add up the cost of the ingredients plus the time and labor involved in prepping it, I bet that it's actually more than $3.64.

4. I've recently discovered that gummie bears make the best pre-workout snack at 4am. Just a handfull will do.....which means I've greatly depleted my grandmother's 6-lb. bag from Costco. Must remember to refill that, plus stock extra fortifications for future use.

5. I missed the new episode of Ace of Cakes last night -- sad. My newfound addiction to the Food Network is becoming quite alarming....although it must be said that last night's Food Network Challenge Disney Celebration Cakes was, to say the least....WICKED.

6. Remember from a previous post how there's the creepy guy who walks by the front door of our office and always stares at me? And I'm not talking just a quick glance and a smile, maybe a little wave, like the rest of his coworkers do. No, this guy gives the whole-body "glance" EVERY time he walks by. And now that he has taken to pulling his long-ish hair back into a ponytail (guys, please do us ladies a favor: when you're in your 50s, 60s, heck, even 40s, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT think it's cool to have a ponytail when you're already half bald. It's not a pretty sight and just helps your "creeper" effect). Long story short, this guy has gotten so creeper-ific that I actually had a nightmare the other night, and he was the main guy in it. Now we've reached a whole new level of scary.

7. FALL IS COMING!! Seriously -- maybe it's because it's the first year that I haven't gone back-to-school shopping or dreaded the end of summer, but for some reason, this year I'm SO ready for Fall. Ready for the leaves to change, sweaters, peacoats, and the crisp morning air. Ready to take walks in the early evening and smile as I hear the crunch of the fallen leaves under my feet, and tuck my gloved hands deep into the pockets of my favorite NorthFace coat. Ready for the gas fireplace and my fleece blanket on my bed at night. Ready for candles and pumpkin spice. Can you tell that Fall is my favorite time of the year? Don't even get me started on all the baking opportunities this time of year presents....

-- starts to daydream--

8. I'm so ready for Fall that I'm even thinking past Fall, and going straight for Christmas. Besides the start of the Fall lineup (anyone else going to be watching Grey's, Private Practice and The Office online because the shows are on past their bedtime? No? Well bugger off and stop laughing, I get up at 4am). My sister and I go crazy around the beginning of November, because that means that Christmas is right around the corner. Only problem is, my roommate doesn't allow any mention of Christmas carols, cookies, or decorations before the strike of midnight on November 30. But I'm ready for it all now -- to hear Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera sing their pop Christmas songs, the NSYNC Christmas album, decorating the tree, pouring over cookbooks, trying to decide what kinds of cookies to make this year, and wrapping presents. And no, I'm not one of those sick people who knows exactly what they're getting everyone, and has the presents wrapped and ready to go on December 1. Please, I'm not THAT crazy. I think.

Directions: Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Let's just say that when it comes to me and math....it's like trying to force two opposite magnets together. Math and I DO NOT. GET. ALONG. Like mixing oil and water, fire and ice, or Britney Spears and modesty, some things in this life are just never meant to be together.

Needless to say, during college, my worst grades came from my math classes. The only way I got through Business Calculus, Finite Math, Statistics, Finance, and my Accounting classes was by sitting next to my good friend CD who took pity on me, and was basically my math tutor during my entire college career.

Bless his generocity, patience, and pity. I seriously don't know how he put up with me.

Anyways. That little bit of background info was necessary for the story I'm about to share.

Even though my math classes brought me nothing but pain and sadness during my time in college, I was fortunate enough to have a couple great teachers. Great teachers who knew that the subject they were teaching wasn't the most thrilling topic in the world, so they'd throw in a few personal stories to liven up the class. One of these such teachers was Dr. L.

My favorite story from Dr. L takes us back to his home state of Kentucky. Dr. L grew up in the lovely bluegrass state, but moved out to Oregon later in life. Well, unfortunately, a few years ago, Dr. L had to return home to attend his mother's funeral. Well, funerals, weddings, and births are all basically one big reunion -- you see people you haven't seen in years, and it's a "great" time to reminice about years past, catch up, and make false promises to get together "soon." After the funeral, Dr. L attended the memorial dinner, where he saw people he hadn't seen since his youth. A few times, someone would walk up to him and ask, "Do you remember me?" And, with a touch of regret, he'd answer, "You know, I know that I should know who you are, but since it's been about 20 years, unfortunately I don't. Would you mind just reminding me?" Through this routine, he was able to catch up with his old piano teacher, a coach from high school, and some long-lost friends he hadn't talked to in years.

Later on in the afternoon, a woman walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned around, she smiled at him and asked, "You don't remember me, do you?" So Dr. L went into his (now well-used) schpeal about how he knew that he should recognize or remember her, but unfortunately it's been a while, could she refresh his memory?

At this point, Dr. L. paused and looked around the classroom, and said 5 chilling words:

"It was my first wife."

The room erupted in laughter as Dr. L. blushed and got a sheepish look on his face. "It had been 20 years!" he yelled, "People's looks change in that amount of time!"

Just one of those moments where you wish floor would open up and swallow you whole, don't you agree?