Recipe for a Puppet Master

Ingredients:

One (1) pair of 3D glasses

One (1) roommate who is easily persuaded

One (1) puppet master to convince said roommate that an impromptu Elton John performance won't be exploited in any way, shape, or form.



And the moral of the story is this: Never trust a Bone, especially a Bone Junior.

A Short Story About How I Didn't Eat Anything All Day Because I Thought I Was Going to Throw Up

"The doorbell rang, I heard you pee."

That's how it all started, as so eloquently put by my friend Johanna, who called me at the crucial moment last night. The doorbell rang, I fluffed my hair, took a deep breath, and put on my best game face. Then I opened the door and nearly fainted from fright.

I found out later that my roommates, in classic roommate fashion, had been peeking through the blinds when Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head picked me up. Their exchange went something like this:

Yanaj: He's opening the car door for her!
Ylime: His shirt is so tight!
Yanaj: Look how he's smiling!
Ylime: His shirt is so tight!
Yanaj: She looks terrified!
Ylime: His shirt is so tight!
Yanaj: Does he have any other choice?!?

Thankfully, it didn't take long for me to warm up and be myself. And we had fun! At the game, I had no choice but to be smashed up against his arm because he was too huge to contain himself in his own space. Six-foot-four, and two hundred and eighty pounds of huge.

It also didn't take long to realize that he loves movies as much as I do, which gave me the perfect segue to suggest another date. But I didn't have to - because he suggested it first. After he walked me to my door and hugged me. And then I really peed.

I was all set to burst through the front door and start screaming to my roommates, except that it was locked, and I ended up body slamming the front door, full force. While Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head was still standing there.

And to think I was thisclose to making it through the whole night without pulling a classic Bone Junior move.

So kiddies, take some advice from your old Aunt Bone Junior... always give it a shot, because you might end up having a blast. And possibly peeing yourself with excitement.

T Minus 8 Hours and Counting...And by Counting, I mean Sweating, Shaking, and Panicking

So today is the big day. Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head called me last night to set everything up for the game tonight. I of course panicked and bumbled around, unable to form a coherent sentence. And then the panic set in.

So rather than think about that, I'll tell you about my celebrity sighting experience at Sundance this weekend. As I was riding the shuttle up to Main Street, who gets on and sits right next to me, but William H. Macy.

I won't even tell you that when I told Bone Senior this story, she said, "Who's William H. Macy?" This coming from the gal who introduced me to the wonderful world of Mystery Men in the first place.

I sat there, staring straight ahead but totally aware of his presence next to me. I would've sat there in silence if the shuttle hadn't broken down, and he made a joke about walking the rest of the way. I saw my opportunity and grabbed the bull by the horns.

Bone Junior: I hope you don't mind me saying this, because I really admire your scope of work, but I have to say, my favorite role of yours is The Shoveler.

WHM: Laughs. Believe it or not, I get that a lot, so thank you.

BJ: Really? Leans forward in excitement. Will you do the line? The line about how you shovel well?

WHM: Lucille, God gave me a gift. I shovel well. I shovel very well.

BJ: Claps hands and rejoices.

In all, my Sundance Film Fesitval experience was a fun one. I didn't see a lot of celebrities, but I met a lot of interesting people. And something about being around the people in Park City gave me the guts to ask out Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head. Maybe it was a contact high from all the artsy fartsy hippies I was around - whatever it was, I'm officially in panic mode.

The Scream Heard Round The World, or How I Gave Myself an Aneurysm

Years from now, a tale will be told around campfires. Its the kind of story that gets bottled up and stored in sorcerer's wagons next to the eye of newt and pixie dust. Its the stuff dreams and wishes are made of, and kiddies, it happened to your old Aunt Bone Junior.

Whenever a young girl cries because her crush doesn't like her back, or a chubby loner pines for the quarterback, the legendary ultimate underdog tale will be told of how Bone Junior called The Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head and asked him out to the Jazz game.

And how he said yes.

They will tell of how she screamed with such fervor that a roommate came running, thinking she'd seen a spider; and how she fell to her knees and threw her arms in the air, a la Rocky. Lit'rally.

You married people might not remember what it was like to have such a raging crush on someone that you couldn't even look at them, and to be convinced that you could never ever ever talk to them, and that they'd never ever look twice at you - someone so unattainable and so far out of your league that it seemed hopeless.

But I'm here to tell you that miracles really can happen. And I don't care if he said yes out of pity or just to be nice. I don't care if he said yes because he felt sorry for me or because he didn't want to hurt my feelings by saying no. I don't care if we go to the game and then nothing comes of it - because he still said yes, and I at least get a shot.

If nothing else, I have solidified my bragging rights amongst friends. As Ylime so eloquently put it, "We can never again say you don't have the balls, because You. Have. The. Balls."

And she never says 'balls'.

Mmmm, Your Scrapple Smells Lovely

Scrapple (n) - Dutch, literally meaning "not for the faint of heart." A savory mush in which cornmeal and flour are simmered with pork scraps and trimmings, then formed into a loaf. Small scraps of meat left over from butchering, too small to be used or sold elsewhere, were made into scrapple to avoid waste, a Pennsylvania Dutch tradition.

Scrapple is typically made of hog offal, such as the head, particularly the brain, eyes, heart, liver, bladder, and other scraps, which are boiled with any bones attached (often the entire head), to make a broth. Once cooked, bones and fat are discarded, the meat is reserved, and (dry) cornmeal is boiled in the broth to make a mush. The meat, finely minced, is returned, and seasonings, typically sage, thyme, savory, and others, are added. The mush is cast into loaves, and allowed to cool thoroughly until gelled.

Scrapple is arguably the first pork food invented in America. The first recipes were created by Dutch colonists who settled near Philadelphia and Chester County, Pennsylvania in the 17th and 18th centuries. Scrapple is strongly associated with Philadelphia and neighboring eastern Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland and Delaware.

What Wikipedia fails to mention is that scrapple is tasty and also wonderful. But you have to applaud anyone who can successfully pair the words "savory" and "mush" when talking about a pork loaf.

Wikipedia also left out the fact that although its a Philadelphia treat, one day you might stumble across a frozen loaf of scrapple in your grocer's freezer in Utah. And that day will be one of rejoicing.

Scrapple in utero -its most primitive form before blossoming into a delectable morsel - unless you count the pig it came from:















Wikipedia also fails to mention that your entire house will smell like scrapple after you prepare this delicious breakfast treat. You will also smell like scrapple, so be prepared to tell people that you slaved for hours to create a savory mush meal. Because they will ask. Hypothetically.
















Yanaj's first sampling...















Ylime wears her heart on her sleeve...
















The final verdict...

Holy Crap, I'm Famous! Kind of...

Well folks, I've officially broken into the elusive world of interweb fame. In a very sad kind of way. Apparently, this post sparked a bit of a debate amongst BSB fans (that's Backstreet Boys, to the lay person). My remark about seeing this BSB at Sundance became the start of a new thread on this site. I'm quoted! Lit'rally! Line upon line of Kevin Sundance Speculation all because of little old me.

I was intrigued. I didn't know how the heck they found me, until further research showed that the Great Kevin Debate began with this avid fan, who runs a site chock full of BSB news "for the discerning fan." I love the mystery and mystique that shrowds me...Kevin at Sundance? This Blogger seems to know...

The biggest controversy seems to be over when I saw the BSB. Was it this year? Last year? I felt it was my duty to set the webmaster straight, so I emailed Kat herself.

Dear Kat -

Hi there. I’m the blogger you referenced on your site regarding seeing Kevin at the Sundance Film Festival. The story about me seeing him and then tripping over a fire hydrant actually happened in January of 2004, which was my last Sundance experience before this year. I haven’t seen Kevin so far this year, but I have passed by that hydrant often and I think of Kevin fondly each time I do. If I do see him, you'll be the first to know.

Keep the BSB info coming!

Sincerly,
Bone Junior

While I'm excited to be forever immortalized in someone else's web memory, I can't help but feel a few retarded tingles for myself.

Oscars! Oscars! Read All About It!

Bright and early this morning, the highly anticipated 2007 Academy Award nominees were announced. And I was hopping around in excitement as I brushed my teeth. I've been looking forward to this day almost as much as I was looking forward to Prison Break starting up again (by the way, Lincoln and his unbuttoned shirt did not disappoint.)

This year is going to be a doozy. I can't say that I agree with all the nominations, or the fact that Dreamgirls got snubbed for Best Picture. Overall, I'm bursting with excitement and wondering how to pronounce some of the foreign names. And the screenwriter I saw at Sundance is nominated! It gives me chivers to think that just two days ago, I was cowering behind a bookshelf, too chicken to ask for a picture with him, and now he's nominated.

Just thinking about predicting the winners took me back to last year and my famous first attempt at making an Oscar cake for our first Oscar party. Seeing the pictures still pricks me with pride.

Behold, in all its glory, The 2006 Oscar Cake That Turned Out Sucessfully But Had Enormous Potential To Look Like Something Vulgar If I Didn't Mix The Frosting Colors Right and Also If I Didn't Get The Shape Right:

On February 25, I hope to sucessfully recreate my second official Oscar cake for our second Oscar party. You're all invited, so get your togas ready.

Go ahead, Daily Herald. Reject my ballot. I dare you.

Every year The Daily Herald, the premier publication of Utah County, hosts a "Best of Utah County" contest. A full-page ballot is printed in the paper with categories ranging from 'Best free-time activity in Utah County', to 'Best Divorce Attorney.' I'm not kidding.

This year, a 'Best Homebuilder' category was introduced, which meant that after my boss saw it, I was off to The Daily Herald to buy 100 newspapers and then hand them out to all employees, shamelessly prompting them to nominate our company. In case you're wondering, 100 Daily Heralds costs $50.00, weighs 80 pounds, and the little yellow strap slices your wrist tendons.

I started to fill out the ballot, but with over 100 categories, I started to get a little restless and a lot annoyed. How the hell am I supposed to know who is the best assisted living, plastic surgeon, auto towing service, or hearing aid center? I'm not kidding.

So I thought I'd share some of my favorite responses with you.

Make-out spot ("necking" spot): Squaw Peak

Free-time Activity in Utah County: Squaw Peak

Place for a picnic: Squaw Peak

Place to break up: Squaw Peak

Place to propose: Squaw Peak

Under appreciated tourist attraction: Squaw Peak

Utah County getaway: Squaw Peak

Public Swimming: The drainage / irrigation ditch off Center Street in Provo.

Public Restroom: The drainage / irrigation ditch off Center Street in Provo.

Fishing spot: Squaw Peak, if you're fishing for guys. Coldstone Creamery if you're fishing for girls.

Live theater: Squaw Peak

Bargain date: Squaw Peak


The disclaimer at the bottom says, "The Daily Herald reserves the right to reject any ballot." Gee, I sure hope I didn't ruin my chances.

In other news, Hot Rob did finally call me back, despite the odds and my ass-faced voicemail message.

Sundance Celebrity Sighting Update:

Number seen: 2 (Robert Redford and Guillermo Arriaga)

Number vicariously seen through Yanaj: 1 (Tom Arnold)

Number of people seen that looked vaguely familiar and were being asked for their autograph but I have no idea who they were: 1.

Dollars spent on goat cheese & salmon salad: 16

Diet Pepsis consumed during shifts: 9

Viva La Sundance Film Festival 2007!

Yesterday kicked off the official start of the 2007 Sundance Film Festival, and as a volunteer, I officially am part of the festivities this year. Actually it all started on Wednesday when I checked in and received my first official swag bag (pictured, minus the vest, hat, and travel coffee mug).















Starting tomorrow, I'll be working at The New Frontier on Main with about 14 male Star Trek nerds. I likey my odds.

I'm also hoping that by working there, my celebrity sighting stories will trump my last Sundance celebrity sighting, when I locked eyes with this Backstreet Boy, and then tripped over a fire hydrant. Lit'rally.

A Word of Advice

Here's a thought...

When you finally work up the nerve to call your crush and ask him out to the upcoming Jazz / Nets game, and your call goes to his voicemail, and you're leaving him a well-thought-out, witty message, it's probably not a good idea to start the message with a greeting that indicates what you refer to him as when you're talking about him to your roommates.

"Hey, Hot Rob.....(awkward pause and moment of self-realization, followed by sheer terror and the shattering sound of me slowly dying a little inside)....it's Bone Junior......"

Just a thought.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed and never coming out.

Rock-A-Thon

Here is a preview of greater things to come: a smidgen of the famous Elvis cake that we devoured at his birthday party on Saturday. We actually had a pretty good turn out, including Hot Rob, whom I've had a raging crush on for months now. Sadly, no Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head, but I made do with some witty banter with Hot Rob. You know I'm all about the witty banter. And yes, I felt retarded for myself.

While this picture doesn't do the cake justice, rest assured that I will post bigger and better pictures in the days to come, courtesy of my roommate Ylime.

In other news, I woke up Sunday morning completely naked except for my pink Eagles socks. My first thought was that someone had slipped me a rufie at the party and I'd had a fabulous time without even knowing it.

Then I remembered that earlier in the morning, I'd been having a dream about getting in the shower. So I got up out of bed and got undressed down to my socks before I was coherent enough to realize that it was a dream, and I didn't actually have to get in the shower. So I just got back in bed and went back to sleep.

Don't ask.

Celebrate! Celebrate! Dance To The Music!

In continuing my tradition of planning events, inviting a bunch of people, and then having no one show up, I present to you the following: As promised, there will be Elvis cake and Rocky DVD's. And by Elvis cake, I mean a big cake with Elvis' face on it. And by Rocky DVD's, I mean they'll be projected onto the wall, a la a home theater projector system. We're starting at 6 and going the distance, or until I pass out from sheer elation and sugar overdose.

Everyone and their mom is invited, including you, Stupidramblings!! It's never too early to break in the first mate. Oh, and if anyone happens to see Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big As My Head, tell him he's invited too.

Happy Birthday, Elvis!

Everyone who knows me knows this: The only thing I love more than the Philadelphia Eagles is Elvis. Even people who don't know me know this, because they can see the life-sized Elvii in our front windows. (Elvii is plural Elvis.) (I'm lucky enough to have roommates that tolerate this)

When the subject comes up in conversation, the first thing people say is, "Oh, you're an Elvis fan?" I feel a little retarded for myself when I explain that I have not one, but two Elvis clocks. My bedroom decor consists entirely of Elvis posters, including a collage that I made out of a deck of Elvis playing cards. That last April Fools Day, I convinced my two roommates that I'd been recruited by Elvis Presley Enterprises to play Priscilla in the Las Vegas show, "Elvis & Priscilla 4-Ever" because of my "striking resemblance to Mrs. Presley." I still have the fake letter to prove it.

The retarded tingles increase when I tell them that I own more than one book about conspiracy theories surrounding his alleged death. I sang on stage with an Elvis impersonator in Vegas. I spent a week in Memphis for Elvis Week, that I cried when I walked past his grave at the candlelight vigil, and that I plan on going again this year. That Bone Senior hand-made Elvis purses for me that are replicas of his jumpsuits, and that I puffy-painted tank tops.

The next question is inevitably "Why do you like him so much?"

Friends, I don't have enough time to tell you why I love Elvis so much. I just do. Now get off my back.
















That being said, I'd like to pay tribute to The King the only way I know how - by hosting a Rockathon and birthday party this weekend, where we will watch all 5 Rocky DVD's and eat Elvis cake. And also by posting some of my favorite Elvis Week 2006 memories for your viewing pleasure.

No Bones About It: Children of Men

Every Friday morning on my way to work, I listen to a certain movie critic on a certain radio station, sheerly for the retarded tingles. I won't mention any names, but he won't either since he can never remember the names of the films or actors that he's reviewing. He can't even keep the stats straight.

Case in point: "It's the movie with that one girl, I think she won an Oscar....oh, what's her name....that boxing girl.....Hilary Swank! Did she win an Oscar?" Or, "I really liked Angelina Jolie in that one movie with that other guy...what was it called....the one with that guy, you know...."

I'm driving along, I hear this and I want to punch him. He's a movie critic - that's his JOB! How can he not know that Hilary Swank has not one, but TWO Oscars. I think the only thing I've ever agreed with him about is that Batman Begins was the best film of 2005. And he also said that Cameron Diaz got on his nerves, and I agree with that. But I never really pay attention to his reviews, and by reviews, I mean run-on sentences that consist mainly of the words "great" and "quintessential."

This is the guy who said that he liked The Persuit of Happyness, but his only argument was that he didn't "believe" Will Smith as a struggling father, because Will Smith is a millionaire. Because Will Smith "never had to struggle to make it like the father in the film." Using that logic, I just don't "believe" Christian Bale as Batman, because I doubt that he ever had to avenge the death of his parents. IT'S A MOVIE! HE'S AN ACTOR! THAT'S WHAT HE DOES!

Deep breath.

And yet there I am, every Friday morning, faithfully tuning in to see who he's going to name drop this week. Oh, and apparently every celebrity he meets is "just the nicest person in Hollywood." One day, I'm going to take your job, little man.

But I digress.

Last Friday, he reviewed Children of Men, and it peaked my interest. I vaguely remembered seeing trailers for this one but mainly because of Clive Owen. Who, for your information Mr. Movie Critic, did not "lose" the role of James Bond to Daniel Craig - he didn't want it! Which is too bad because he would've been a hot James Bond. But Daniel Craig is the nicest guy in Hollywood, in case you didn't know.

Children of Men has turned out to be a surprising hit out here. Yanaj and I tried to go see it on Friday night, but got our tickets refunded when the only seats available were in the front row. And you know Bone Juneyah don't play that. So we went back to the Saturday afternoon matinee and got our perfect seats - lucky we were there early because the theater sold out.

It takes place in 2027, when the fertility rate has dropped to zero, and the youngest person on the planet is 18 years old. They talk about how the world has become a desolate place without the voices of children. The big mystery is, why can't women get pregnant anymore? They say that God has become so fed up with man's wicked ways that he took away the most precious gift we have.

Amid all the chaos, a young refugee woman turns up pregnant, and long story kind of short, its up to Clive Owen to safely transport her to the headquarters of The Human Project. It's a dark and depressing film, but its absolutely beautiful at the same time. But I'll spend less time talking about the semantics of the film and more time talking about how I nearly threw up when they showed the girl giving birth.

Seriously. The last time I had a reaction like that was when I saw King Kong on the big screen, and had to sit through ten minutes of huge bugs and spiders and slimy things crawling all over people and eating their faces. I started shaking and sweating, and if it had lasted another minute, I would've puked. Ask Yanaj, who had to ask me if I was OK.

And that's exactly what happened here. The girl is in labor, she starts gushing fluids and then out pops the baby, and out almost popped my lunch. Exhibit 8,000 proving why I'm not ready to have kids. I know that child birth is a "beautiful thing", but it scares me more than dying. And actually seeing it recreated gives me the heebie jeebies. I physically got cold and clammy and shook a little. It left a bad taste in my mouth.

Come to think of it, I seem to have the same reaction when I see Huge Bald Guy With Biceps As Big Around As My Head. Interesting.

Despite the birthing sequence (which apparently didn't bother anyone except me) the movie was incredibly thought-provoking and moving, and the way it was filmed just floored me. There's a scene in the refugee camp that lasts probably six minutes at least, and its one long shot - it blew me away.

But its still a very dark film. I told Yanaj that it would've been really hard to watch if there wasn't something as beautiful as Clive Owen in it. And he really is beautiful. I can see why the film is getting so much attention.
It made me cry and it made me think, which is more than I can say for a lot of the films I saw last year. I'll definitely be seeing this one again.

As a side note and in reference to Tarable & Erin regarding my previous post, please click here for all things Mummer.

Can I Get a Whoop Whoop for this Jawn?

This simultaneously embarasses me a little and makes me proud. Does any of this sound like me? Mmmmmm.....scrapple, jimmies and wooder ice.

You know you're from PA if...

You've never referred to Philadelphia as anything but "Philly." And New Jersey has always been "Jersey."

You refer to Pennsylvania as "PA."

You know how to pronounce Bryn Mawr, Schuylkill, Bala Cynwyd, Duquesne, Punxsutawney, Susquehanna, and Allegheny.

You know what a "Mummer" is.

You can use the phrase "fire hall wedding reception" and not even bat an eye.

You absolutely hate T.O.

You really miss Y-100.

At least 5 people on your block have electric "candles" in all or most of their windows all year long.

Words like "hoagie", "sticky buns", "shoo-fly pie", "pierogies" and "pocketbook" actually mean something to you.

You know the time and location of every "wing night" in a 20 mile radius.

You consider an exotic vacation to be a trip to Ocean City, Virginia Beach, or Myrtle Beach.

You think very little of an Amish buggy on the road.

You've run up the steps to the art museum emulating Rocky at least once.

You know that Intercourse, Climax, Virginville, Paradise, Mars, and Slippery Rock, Blue Ball, and Bird in Hand are all PA towns.

You love Birch Beer.

You consider Pittsburgh to be "out west," and you know the fastest way to Philly is the Turnpike.

When the forecast said snow, you stayed up waiting for them to announce that school was cancelled.

You know that more than two inches of snow will at least get you a two hour delay.

You have an uncontrollable urge to buy bread and milk when you hear the word "snow."

You live within two miles of a plant that makes potato chips, corn chips, pretzels, candy, or ice cream, or that packages turkeys, beans, or bologna.

You think the roads in any other state are smooth.

Refer to something as "a whole nother," e.g., "That's a whole nother issue."

You punctuate every sentence with, "You know" at least twice.

Your favorite dessert is water ice. (pronounced "wooder" ice)

You find yourself using "yo" and "youse guys" when talking long-distance to family members.

You find yourself at a nice restaurant thinking "I wonder if they have cheese steaks?"

You visit New York and are impressed by how clean it is.

You've had more than one debate on why Wawa is better than Turkey Hill.

You call sprinkles on top of your ice cream cone "jimmies".

You can't imagine lunch without a Tastykake.

A vacation at the Jersey shore is better than going to an island (there's more stuff to do, plus you know everybody.)

You know where to find the Rocky statue.

You've had more than one argument over why your place for cheesesteaks is the best.

You've never been to the Liberty Bell, or the only time you were there was on a class trip in third grade.

You will buy a pretzel from anyone, anywhere without even thinking of where it was - or where his hands have been.

You can't imagine a breakfast without scrapple.

You don't know what a sub is, but you think they are trying to describe an imitation HOAGIE.

You call the Dallas Cowboys the Cowgirls.

When every year a team makes it close to or to the post season and yet every year you still find your self saying i know how this is gonna end...there's always next year.

You never took a field trip to anywhere other than the Franklin institute, the zoo, the art museum, or the museum of natural science.

You know every word to the theme song from the fresh prince of Bel Air.

You know what it means if someone refers to something as a "jawn"

No Bones About It: 2006 In Review

What a year in movies. As I look back fondly on 2006, I realized that of the 200 top grossing films of the year, I saw 93 of them, and that makes me feel a little retarded for myself. I saw some of them more than once. Some of them more than twice. One of them I saw four times, and it hasn't even hit the dollar theater yet, so I think I'll go a few more rounds with Daniel Craig before hanging up my spurs on that one.

Before you judge me on my addiction to cinematic adventure, allow me to remind you that I'm single and self-supported, so what else do I have to do?

So let's take a look back on the films that I loved, hated, and mocked incessantly.

The Good: You touched my heart in a tender way.

Invincible - You know a movie is going to be good when your boss takes everyone to see it on opening day. I saw it twice on opening day. I only wish that I had then what I have now: a pizza cutter that plays the Eagles fight song. Yes, its that awesome. This movie also proved my long-standing theory that the t-shirt was created for Mark Wahlberg. He doesn't just wear the tshirt - he beats that tshirt into submission until the seams stretch and scream with pain - the kind of pain that hurts so good. Then he tells that tshirt to make him a sandwich, and the tshirt asks, "Mayo or mustard, sir?"

Rocky Balboa - There's nothing like seeing it in Philadelphia. There's also nothing like the look on your step-mom's face when Rocky takes his shirt off in all of his sixty-year old splendor. And if you look closely, you just might spot Bone Junior in the end credits footage...

Superman Returns - I thought that this was going to be my new Batman Begins, and I had a brief yet torrid emotional love affair with Brandon Routh.

Mission Impossible 3 - I know Tom Cruise is a little bit of a wiener, ok a lot of a wiener, but I really liked this movie. I saw it twice on opening weekend, and that embarrasses me a little.

Inside Man - Hands down one of the best bank robbery movies I've ever seen. And Clive Owen is too tasty for his own good.

Dreamgirls - Best when seen in a theater full of chubby black ladies who shout "Yes Jesus!!" when Effie hits her high notes.

The Bad: For you, I had such high hopes. You equal twelve plus hours of my life that I will never get back.

The Suckhouse - The name says it all. Apparently my review ruined it for some people who were unable to focus on anything but Keanu Reeve's terrible sneezing and crying. Sorry.

Miami Vice - Don't ask. It looked hot. It was not.

Nacho Libre - I know, I know, everyone loved this movie. It had some funny parts, but it just didn't live up to the hype and I got really sick of hearing everyone quote the stretchy pants line.

The Break-Up - It was funny, and Jennifer Aniston is naseautingly cute, but I hated the ending. Sure it was realistic and blah blah blah, but I didn't like it.

The Holiday - Seriously, if I hadn't paid to see it, I would've walked out. The only saving grace was cute Kate Winslet and hot Jude Law, and Jack Black was OK too. Cameron Diaz bugged the hell out of me. So I guess Cameron Diaz was really the only thing I didn't like, and that ruined the whole thing for me.

The Awesomely Bad: You, I knew were a cheap thrill and a quick fix. You were my booty call.

Step Up - (Channing Tatum) Holy biceps. I saw it twice at the dollar theater and have since memorized the dance steps to the finale sequence, except my biceps aren't as big as his. This spawned a love of all things Channing Tatum, including She's The Man, So You Think You Can Dance, and oblique muscles.

The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift. Whoever the guy is, he's hot. Who am I kidding. I loved The Fast and the Furious, I loved 2 Fast 2 Furious even harder, and I died with love when I saw The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift. Just kidding. Kind of. Not really.

Harsh Times - (Christian Bale) If it didn't have Christian Bale in a wife beater for half the movie, I would've walked out.

Crank - (Jason Statham) I really love this British man, but he makes some really crappy movies. I just don't understand how a man so gorgeous can continually put out such crap. Though it didn't stop me from buying The Transporter parts one and two.

Annapolis - (James Franco, Tyrese, and lots of six packs.) That pretty much says it all. Wait, you didn't know this was a movie about boxing? Me neither. Its more about who can look better in a tight wet tshirt. I bet you didn't know that Donnie Wahlberg was in it either.

The Incredibly Hot: For you, I would set aside my morals for the night, and also I would slam you like a car door.

Casino Royale - (Daniel Craig, also starring Daniel Craig's bathing suit) My first James Bond movie awakened the beast of lust within me. Four times and counting, and I'm still not sick of it. Also brings back images of my encounter with huge bald guy with biceps as big around as my head. Ah, the memories.

The Departed - (Leonardo DiCaprio, Matt Damon, Mark Wahlberg) I'm predicting Oscars for this one. In a nut shell, one of the most awesome movies I've seen this year. Definitely qualifies as one of The Good, but the hotness kind of wins out on this one.

The Prestige - (Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman) Better the second time around when I wasn't distracted by loud nose breathers and I could focus on the talent.

The New World - (Christian Bale and Collin Farrell) This one was hot, but so bad and boring that Nicole (who can sleep through anything) actually tried to sleep through it and couldn't. It was like one long Haiku that never ended. Why, Christian? Why?

Television

Have I introduced you to my new boyfriend? It's getting pretty serious and I don't think I can live without him. His name is TiVo, and thanks to him, I haven't missed a single episode of any of my favorite shows this year.

On that note, I present to you, in order of amazingness, the shows that I'll pass up a booty call for.

1. Prison Break - After I got the first season on DVD, I was holed up in my room for a week straight, basking in the glory. And also crocheting. I'm counting down the days until January 22 when the season starts up again.

I had to post this picture because Yanaj is convinced that its impossible for Lincoln to ever button up his shirt...

2. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia - With episode titles like "Mac Bangs Dennis' Mom", "The Gang Goes Jihad", and "Charlie Gets Molested", what's not to love?

3. Grey's Anatomy - Three years and still going strong. I'd like to take McSteamy into my sexual custody.

4. Heroes - I love me some Peter Petrelli, bangs and all.

5. The Office - You probably already knew this one was good.

That pretty much sums up my year in entertainment.

So long 2006, you have been good to me.