Hilarious.

It must be that higher alcohol content in the beer.

What am I going to do?

The cause of Anna Nicole Smith's death was announced last Monday. And - surprise, surprise - it was an accidental drug overdose.

But there is no longer a CNN headline dedicated to Ms. Smith and I find myself strangely bereft. I thought that the madness would continue until her daughter's father was revealed, and of course, some full color commentary on where her estate is on fighting for her half of the millions. I thought the madness would continue forever, honestly, I mean what *doesn't* this story have? But I'm sure as the bits and pieces of other dirty laundry come to light, Anna Nicole will once again reign on the news channels.

But for now, she's gone. Oh-a.

Movie night.

Last night, we watched "Half Nelson," and not just because Ryan Gosling is my new fantasy man.

It was a good film with stunning performances by Gosling and Shareeka Epps. But it was long. And it took quite a while to see where the film was actually going. But if you like drama -- and if the idea of Gosling naked is appealing (not that he ever gets naked but still) -- try it out. See what you think.

On being older than my husband.

"Holy crap!"

"What?"

"I was just reading CNN and apparently Johnny Marr is the new guitarist for Modest Mouse. That is just plain weird."

"Who's Johnny Marr?"

"Johnny Marr. The famous British guitarist. You know who he is."

"Not ringing a bell."

"He was the guitarist for the Smiths. Remember the Smiths?"

"Who are the Smiths?"

This is awesome.

EW is reporting that there may be a Goonies musical!

I wonder if Corey Feldman will reprise his role as Mouth.

It's freedom, baby.

In a few weeks, I have a business trip to New York City, the big apple herself. I have to say, it's a little weird for me.

How many times have I asked just for this -- the ability to be baby-free for a weekend and talking to adults about stuff that doesn't involve how many times my kid pooped today or where you can find pull-ups on sale? How many times have I secretly wished for an opportunity to leave my son with his father for more than 2 hours so CPT Dick can see how truly exhausting full-time parenting can be?

And yet, as I made my travel arrangements, I felt my heart break just a little. Will Munchkin know that I'm gone? Will he cope? Will his Daddy be able to take care of him as well as I can? Either way, the answer isn't fully satisfying.

But the weirdest part? Seriously? It's the fact that I'm most looking forward to the plane ride. This just goes to show that I haven't fully assimilated that I'll be in NYC, playground for adults. But all I keep imaginging is a plane ride where I can pee when I want to. Where I can actually read a book, watch the movie or sleep. Where I don't have a sleeping child drooling all over my arm or screaming because I won't let him run up and down the aisles. Those couple hours to myself, suspended in the sky with my own agenda, well, that sounds just about as close to heaven as I might ever get.

Party planning.

I am not really the kind of person who is good at planning parties. I don't give that many parties, for one, and the ones I do give are usually the casual 6-10 people dinner variety that only require that there is a 3 to 1 bottle of wine to person ratio for guaranteed success. But now that I'm doing the FRG thing, I find that I have to plan gatherings much more often and it drives me insane.

First of all, you never know how many people are actually going to attend. You can say RSVP all you want but no one listens. And for all those that do RSVP, a good 25% are going to do the opposite of what their RSVP stated and another 15% will bring an extra person or two along with them. And these days, with the big secret being out, people are less inclined to participate in unit activities anyway.

To add a new dimension of difficulty, you have FRG ladies who say they will help. But they don't mean it. Mind you, I have one to two workhorses in our company who help out all the time. But how much can you delegate when you don't know how many people or what exactly you are doing due to weather and other company work considerations? It's a conundrum. And when you do delegate, it always seems like those peripheral helpers "forget" or call the night before and say they don't want to do it anymore. 'Cause, you know, buying Costco-sized blocks of Kraft singles doesn't have quite the glamour they imagined.

In any case, we have a party tomorrow. And tomorrow, I will pick up 200 kaiser rolls and a whole mess of hot dogs, hamburgers and various accoutrements and hope for the best. The best for weather, the best for turn-out and, most importantly, no salmonella poisoning from the BBQ. Wish me luck!

I'm all a-tingle.

The new Harry Potter cover. Is it July yet? Is it? How about now?

Some people really piss me off.

In the wake of the news that some soldiers are not receiving adequate disability ratings on their discharge from the Army, the Army has set up a hotline for those who feel that they did not receive the right care when wounded or the correct rating when ETS'ing from the service.

A former soldier that I know is reapplying for disability. And it's really pissing me off. The soldier in question was in the military for two years. That's it. The soldier managed to opt out of deploying. The soldier then managed to "medical out" of the military. All that training, all the money that the government spent, the unit that needed this soldier -- didn't matter. This was all based on an arthritic condition. Now the soldier is pissed because no disability rating was received and is appealing the decision. If the soldier doesn't get some kind of compensation, the soldier is planning to go to the papers.

What kind of happy crappy is this? Arthritis cannot be compared to severe brain injury or loss of limbs. Don't get me wrong -- I know arthritis can be a serious condition. But not in a 23 year old who is working as a waiter to pay the bills. And there is no way to prove that the soldier did not already have the issue or that the Army exacerbated the problem. But because of all the publicity, the soldier will probably get something, leaving less money for people who really need it.

There's the story and then there's the truth.

A recent Gawker post discusses the fact that Amorita Randall, a servicewoman quoted in last Sunday's NY Times Magazine's article on women in the military and the impact of the war in Iraq on them, did not actually serve in Iraq.

I don't mean to knock Randall. She's obviously mentally ill. And in fairness to Sara Corbett, the author of the piece, she does sound a bit reticent about Randall's remarks. But let's be honest here. There are thousands of women who have served in the military. There are probably a fair amount who would be happy to talk to the NY Times. But people want stories with bite. And Randall's issues and her "rememberances" of the alleged IED attack those issues on definitely have bite.

Something to think about.

Is this really necessary? Seriously?

So they really weren't kidding about Stallone filming "Rambo 4." And here I thought they were just trying to make some shit up about why he was in Thailand with horse steroids.

Still pondering the unknown.

As our friends and compatriots pack up for their next assignments, we are still waiting for news, any news, of our fate. There is none to be had.

And according to my mother-in-law, this is getting on her last nerve, because how can she plan her Christmas when she doesn't know what we're doing?

The beginning of something more sinister?

The recent Iranian stuff has me worried. 15 British sailors taken captive. An emphatic statement that those sailors admitted "invading" Iranian waters. And then, of course, the UN meetings where the Iranian Foreign Minister stated that no way, no how they were going to stop their nuclear program.

Goodbye, Baghdad, next stop, Tehran?

On preparedness.

45 minutes until our company's FRG meeting and the phone rings.

"Hey, did you by chance get the keys to the conference room?"

"No, I did not."

"Why not?"

"Umm, I don't even know if I can get the keys. I never get the keys."

"Not true. It's your job."

"Since when?"

"Since I forgot today and now have to figure out an alternate venue for our meeting."