I'll tell you what's inappropriate.

So the Inspector General's report has found that the Pentagon pushed inaccurate intelligence conclusions in the build up to the March 2003 invasion of Iraq. But these were not "unauthorized or illegal," just inappropriate. What the hell is that about?

I mean, I understand that the law is a tricky and fluid thing. But what the public excerpts of this report say to me -- reading between the lines, of course -- is that the DoD cooked the intelligence but it's okay because someone higher up told them to do so. And that's what is really inappropriate.

Absolutely ridiculous. And the President's statement that his new intelligence director will stop anything like this happening in the future? Even more ridiculous.

He's bringing SexyBack.

I have a secret crush. It's kind of embarrassing, but what the hell, this blog is anonymous.

I totally dig Dr. Perry Cox.

For those of you who don't know him, he's a character on the TV show, "Scrubs" played by John C. McGinley. I don't know what it is about him. His crooked smile, that curly hair of his, the way he whistles through his teeth, calls all the other guys by women's names and adds extra syllables to words when he's angry. But whatever it is, I'm hooked. Just watching the man makes me crazy with desire.

And lucky girl that I am, tonight is John C. McGinley night. I received "Identity" from Netflix, downloaded the most recent episode of Scrubs and opened a bottle of red wine. I'm going to place a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door and hope that the husband forgets to call me.

Ooooh, Dr. Cox, secret love of my heart, you do send me.

Never say never.

When I was pregnant, stuffing my face with bon bons and generally trying my best not to consider the full implications of being completely and utterly responsible for another human being, I said all kinds of funny things. My kid would never sleep in my bed. My kid would not watch TV. My kid's toys would never take over the house. Hell, my kid wouldn't even have that many toys because I wouldn't permit our families to spoil him.

Yeah, I was that dumb.

I also said that he wouldn't listen to kid's music. You know, those annoying CDs of rock hits sung by children's choruses, anything having to do with Barney or any other gateway dinosaur, and no, and I mean no, hokey pokey. And unlike the other resolutions I made, which pretty much disappeared into thin air as soon as I had a child who screamed at a pitch that made the hair fall out of my head, I stuck to the no kiddie music rule for a good long time. But alas, those days are over.

Last week, the Sesame Street Platinum Hits CD was on sale at the PX. And without even a second thought, I bought it. Munchkin has started voicing complaints about drives in the car and with a few roadtrips on the horizon (as well as a lot more carting him around with his Daddy off shooting crap), I felt it was a sound investment.

And since its purchase, it has been on heavy rotation in my car. Okay, so it's all that I've played. And I find I'm listening to it -- and hell, yes, I'll admit it -- singing along even when Munchkin isn't with me. It's a really pathetic reminder to never say never. Especially when it comes to the wills of children.

I also saw the Muppet Show CD on the rack. I think I'm going to head back and pick it up. If only to give me a break from "Wubba wubba wubba wubba woo woo woo."

Making a Pillow Angel.

Salon.com has an interesting article looking at some of the other opinions about the so-called "Ashley Treatment," or surgeries to stunt the growth and remove the breast buds and uterus of a severely impaired girl.

I go back and forth on whether or not I think this is a good thing. I can empathize with the parents' point of view, and their intentions, but then I remember the road to hell and all that. But I do feel better that the issue is getting some debate and that even doctors in the hospital that performed the procedure weren't as gung-ho about it as previously reported.

Rest in Peace, Anna Nicole.

Watching her show on E! was like watching a train wreck. She was more than a little crazy. I couldn't understand half the things she said. I have serious doubt about her skills (though not her intentions) as a mother. I wondered if the fact that her case against her billionaire ex-husband's son made it to the Supreme Court wasn't a sign of the coming apocalypse. And to see her interviewed was an unintentional advertisement not to do drugs. But I do somehow feel that a little light has gone out of our world with Anna Nicole's death. There was just something so sweet, so human about her that you couldn't help rooting for her even though you knew that you should know better.

Rest in peace, Anna Nicole. May heaven be filled with people who love and treat you well and all the Texas BBQ and New York cheesecake you care to eat (without impacting how you fit in those size 4 Guess Jeans, of course). You will be missed.

Once I wanted to be the greatest.

Lately, I've been really digging Cat Power's "The Greatest." But I gotta say, this video for the title track has me all kinds of confused. Maybe it's because I am just not as hip as I used to be. Maybe it's because I need irony spelled out for me now. Or maybe it's just because I'm a shitty bowler.

But even with this imagery, she has me captivated with her voice.

Prepare to be hypnotized.

Badger Badger Badger.

True Confessions.

Things I do when my husband is away:

(1) Bake up an entire bag of Ore Ida Tater Tots and eat them, and only them, for dinner three nights in a row.

(2) Watch "Sixteen Candles" and other John Hughes films over and over again. I'm on my fourth viewing of the Breakfast Club since CPT Dick left. (Exception to Rule: "Pretty in Pink." But you already know how I feel about that one. Why did you have to pick Blane over Duckie, Andy? Why, Andy, WHY?!)

(3) Make an appointment to get my hair cut off. I'm scheduled for next week and I'm thinking at least 8 inches have to go. I'm tempted to go for a crewcut now that my son is so enamored with using my hair as a climbing rope.

(4) Go through my husband's closet and throw out his old, nasty t-shirts. The man is a military officer, for Christ's sake. There's no reason why he should still own a Phish tie-dye, let alone one with a bong on the front, large, gaping holes in the back and serious pit discoloration. And there can be absolutely no justification for the fact that he puts it on whenever he finds it in the bottom of his drawer and prances about. The rag has got to go.

(5) Play my N*SYNC discs. Loud. Often. And in front of my son.

(6) Clean the kitchen only *once* a day. Amazing, no?

Sometimes, it's nice to have some alone time. Now if only I could find my muse and get some actual paying writing done.

Are you kidding me?

Eric Schaeffer can't believe that he's still single. But I can.

This is sort of sweet.

Locked forever in an embrace. Awww, how sweet. Especially right before Valentine's Day.

This story was actually brought to my attention by one of our company's wives. She was very much touched by the story and said that she hoped that she and her husband could be buried side by side like that one day. She found it utterly romantic.

And me? Well, frankly, if I don't get my own bed in the afterlife, with all of my own covers (including a down-filled duvet) and at least three pillows, I'm going to think it's all for naught. I look at this photo and wonder if the guy's arm was totally falling asleep under her but he was afraid to move it because, you know, there's just no good place to put it and you're better off just sucking up the pain to seem more cuddly. Or maybe she's all like, "I don't know why he has to scrunch his legs up like that, this position is killing my back."

See, in my opinion, there is romance and there is comfort. And even more importantly, there is sleep which, for me, requires the comfort part. Let's get the romance out of the way so I can get to bed, please.

So I guess I'll be telling my husband that it will separate tombs for us, baby!

Mistrial

1LT Ehren Watada's trial was thrown out of court yesterday in a mistrial.

I've been following this case because it has a lot of interesting legal ramifications, especially for men like my husband. When is an order "illegal," exactly? When does a military officer have the right to refuse an order? Interesting stuff, especially in this very gray-toned war.

I can't help but wonder if the judge threw the case out to avoid setting legal precedent. I mean, 1LT Watada is an Officer. I'm not exactly sure how it could be that he signed something without reading it. I might believe that shit elsewhere but Watada is not only educated by well-defended.

I guess we'll see if charges are re-filed. I have a strong suspicion that they won't be and instead 1LT Watada will be given some easy way to get out of the military. The best thing for the Army is probably for this to just go away.

Some people are never satisfied.

You really have to wonder if people just have nothing better to do. People are actually -- and seriously -- complaining that a silhouette of Prince and his guitar was meant to symbolize much more than a guitar.

People, come on now. Either get a hobby, lighten up or stop watching the Half-Time show if you can't handle the heat.

Me, too, J.K. Me, too.

Rowling mourning end of Harry Potter tale.

I don't know what I'll do after July 21. You know, besides wait for the next couple movies to come out. But after that, man, is life without Harry even worth living?

Secrets and Lies, Part 3.

Things around here have gotten seriously crazy. To the point where I've turned off my phone. The big secret? You know, the one that's not really a secret though the higher-ups would like us all to pretend? It's escalated out of control. Everyone knows. But we still can't say anything.

I've been told off, cussed out and told I don't know shit. Ladies who help out with our company's FRG have been accosted at work and basically told they were Army versions of Uncle Toms. They have since been shunned by women they thought to be their friends. One wife called Child and Youth Services (the Army version of Department of Family and Child Services) on another wife in retaliation, believing that the first wife was withholding critical information. I've been threatened with complaints to the Inspector General's office. Another FRG leader was literally screamed at in the PX.

I think it's fair to say that everyone is ready for an announcement. And, of course, a better understanding of how the Army actually works (note: a bulletin board is not the official manner to disseminate information) might be even more in order.

And me? I'm ready for a fifth of Scotch and a Wal-mart sized bag of Snickers bars. Flame on!

How not to fight a tenure decision.

How exactly does James Sherley think that a hunger strike will help his cause? I mean, it's not like there's a section in a curriculum vitae for "Most Futile Things I Did to Get Tenure."

When you aren't in my bed, I sleep diagonally.

One of the nice perks of CPT Dick being off in the field is having the bed all to myself. It sounds awful, doesn't it? Like I don't even like my husband in my bed? But it's so true. I can hog the pillows, not worry about someone stealing all the covers in the middle of the night and, of course, sleep in a quiet, snore-free zone.

This peace and quiet keeps me happy for a few weeks. I love waking up all by myself. But then I start to miss the mayhem. And somehow, someway the Army manages to send my husband back just when I start to miss him.

Adam Walsh case back in the spotlight.

Now this really threw me.

Apparently, an investigative journalist is suggesting that Jeffrey Dahmer could have killed 6-year-old Adam Walsh, son of America's Most Wanted's host, John Walsh, back in 1981.

I remember this case so well. I was still very young in 1981 and the Adam Walsh case shook our family -- really, every family with young children -- to the core. We watched the news each night in hopes of a happy ending where Adam was reunited, unharmed, with his parents. But life is not like the movies.

This is a really interesting theory but I have to wonder if it is even worth speculating about at this point. Dahmer is dead. Most of the witnesses are having to look back after reading so much about Dahmer, which will undoubtedly color their statements. Leads and initial reports in the police report have been lost over time. And, I hate to say it, because I can understand why the Walsh family would seek closure, but there are other cases, cases where fugitives could be brought to justice or children could be returned to their families, that could use the manpower.

But still, it does make you wonder.

Overheard on the #6 Train.

Chubby girl: I don't do well with fingers in my ass, but I'm pretty good with balls in my mouth. I'll tell you a story, but if it gets too personal just tell me to stop.

Nerdy boy: Alright.

Chubby girl: I was at Jason's house, and, mind you, we were in an awkward position -- kind of half-sitting, half-laying down -- but it's always awkward when you're half asleep, you know? Well, we started kissing, and then my negligee fell down. It literally fell down below my breasts. And Jason was like, 'I don't know if I'm comfortable with your toplessness...'

Read all this and more -- if you dare -- on Overheard in New York.

Don't buy Valentine's candy two weeks early.

I would say something to back this crucial bit of information up but my mouth is too full of heart-shaped chocolately-caramel goodness.

Guess I'm headed back to the commissary next week for more.

Secrets and Lies, Part 2.

Remember that secret I'm supposed to keep? That secret that I was supposed to say wasn't true at all? That it didn't even exist? Well, true to my word, I've kept it. As have most others.

But then some idiot accidentally put part of the contents of that secret on the official calendar. And so it's been posted on the web, in a newsletter and is, as I type this, flashing on the large, day-glo electronic bulletin board next to the PX. Everyone has seen it.

But even so, I'm still expected to keep said secret. Don't ask me to explain it because I can't.

I can't figure out whether I think this is hilarious or not. I just hope it doesn't come back to bite us all in the ass later.