I totally get it now

A few weeks back when I delighted you all with the smutty details from the dream, many of you wrote in and said your night-time fantasy man was Hugh Jackman.

I wrinkled my nose and judged you to be insane.

All I could conjure when that name was said was this less-than-stellar image:


Gross, right?

But then my friends Mindy, Beckie, and Shilo staged an intervention and tried to convince me otherwise. Mindy suggested several You Tube videos of Hugh hosting the Tony Awards.

Beckie dropped off the movie "Australia" and demanded I watch it.

Shilo told me (for the millionth time) that I was just plain crazy.

And lo and behold, what do you think I discovered?
Oh, yes. I get it now. He has quickly moved to the top of a very short list of men I wish to be given in my next life. He can sing, dance, and break a wild stallion in the outback. He grows a fierce man beard and is tall enough that I think it would work out between us. In fact, I think we make quite the handsome couple, don't you?

Hello, Drover...
Yes. Apart from my hideously awkward Kidman-esque skin tone, I think we are quite striking together.
But, alas, there is also my other boyfriend. The first boyfriend. The one I will love from now until the end of time. And the one that belongs to me. So don't even think about it.
Don't worry, Darcy. You will always have a special place in my heart. Even while I'm off in the outback with my newest boy toy.

What's that, James? You had something to say?
I know, Pookie. Don't be angry. You know they can't help it. I'm just too attractive to resist.
Oh...coconut cake, the beach and a very hot man all in one place? It's the ultimate trifecta.

However will I choose?

Having my cake and eating it, too

On a post I wrote a few days ago, Calibosmom left me a comment that really got me thinking.

She wondered if it would be possible to have James Bond AND the chocolate cake together in one place.

I figured that was the epitome of having your cake and eating it, too. Which I am most fond of in any way, shape, or form.

So, I rolled over and asked James what he thought. This was his response:

Which we did.

After we burned down a hotel in the desert, and saved the water supply for Bolivian villages everywhere, of course. We spent a lovely few weeks on his yacht and private island together. He had called in sick to his boss, M, which basically left the entire world unprotected.

I didn't mind, though.

Because, as James said, I was looking a little too thin. What with four days of thanksgiving food fully packed with butter and sugar. I needed some tending to, you know, me practically wasting away and all.

But, alas, I had to leave James and go on a series of press junkets for my other movie.

Yes, it's been a busy year for the little Stie.
I know a lot of you didn't like it. But hopefully the next ones will be better for you. We're hoping to have a lot more money this time, and actually be able to pay someone to do our makeup. We had to do a bit of it ourselves, as you can see. But it's been great to be here with Edward. He doesn't like to let me leave his side for a moment. If I'm not right there with him, he sneaks into my bedroom at night and watches me sleep.

Which is not at all creepy. Or stalkerish.

Finally, after all my press conferences, interviews, and parties were over, I flew home to be with my one and only true love:

He missed me a lot.

Don't we make a handsome couple?

We get that all the time.

I know you're totally jealous. Don't be stealing my imaginary boyfriends now. As you can clearly see, they belong to me.

Gearing up for the Super Bowl

In not too many days, there will be a monumental event. A glorious, once-a-year tradition in which friends gather around the television set and worship for hours. There will most definitely be a lot of food involved. Probably some cheering. And some shouting. Maybe even some throwing of things AT the television.

And it's entirely possible that someone will get up and kiss the television screen at least once.

What is it that I speak of, sports fans?

It is the Super Bowl.

But not the Super Bowl in the traditional football sense, you see.

It is the Super Bowl for women. The Super Bowl of movies:

Oh yes, the original Pride and Prejudice that dreams are made of.

I am counting the days until I can attend a P&P Party at a friend's house this weekend. Darcy and Elizabeth in all their glory, just waiting to guide us through five hours of bliss which will culminate with Darcy jumping into the pond half-nekkid.


Oh yeah, and I think there might be some other type of Super Bowl thingie this weekend. Can't really say that I'm caring at all to watch it. Is that wrong? We did live in the kingdom that belongs to the Patriots for six years, so this means that I'm pretty much committing blasphemy.

But still. I just can't seem to bring myself to care about the football.

And I don't really care that I don't care about the football.

Maybe if Tom Brady were to don an 1800s riding suit and stare longingly into the camera my way, THEN I might care. Unless that happens, come Sunday night, you will find me doing this:

Go team Sunday nap!