So I planned to join the Liz Hurley Ribbon Run the day of my wedding, but it’s been moved a week.  So I thought I’d ask.. who wants to join?  If we get 10 (or more) people to be on our team, we get a race discount ($10 a person.. includes dinner the night before and a t-shirt).  You don’t have to race if you don’t care to (I’ll be doing the 5K Women’s Run, but there’s also a Men’s Run and a Survivor’s Walk), so the option is there to support us in spirit.

Anyone interested?

“She tried to play it like,
‘Oh, I don’t consider that porn’,
but that girl had her fingers
where a girl’s fingers ain’t supposed to be
unless she washin’.”
- “True Dat”, Flava of Love

I know, I know.. half of Huntsville’s cube rats (and some of Arab’s cube rats.. hey, boys!) are freaking out right now.  No post today?  Is she alright?  Is she sick?  Did the stick she peed on lie to her?  OhMyGod, she finally got a response from that Mark Karr guy, didn’t she?

Not yet, yes, no, I hope not, and eww.

I just have nothing of import to talk about.

I could tell you that the fat and lazy wife from Tennessee on this week’s “Wife Swap” is an embarrassment to woman-kind everywhere.  Her whole “we do all of the duties 50/50″ line made me vomit, because let’s just be realistic.. no one’s house does chores 50/50.  Whoever is home the most, does the most.  Our house works that way.  Other houses work that way.  Now, the working half of the equation has a responsibility to, say, clean up after himself.. but 50/50?  Sounds like a utopia to me.

Or I could tell you how “Flavor of Love” on VH1 is our seriously guilty pleasure this season, because the girls this season are skanky beyond skank.  Hell, one girl released her bowels in the first episode.  In the middle of a hallway.  WHO DOES THAT?  Last night was no exception; the mere opening credits are enough for Bryan and I to scamper to the kitchen for alcohol (me with my chickenshit Beringer, and he with his malt beverage) and then vibrate on the couch in hopes of more fabulous ghetto histrionics.

I could credit Conan O’Brien with one of the best opening sketches I’ve seen on Sunday night’s Emmys.  My favorite?  The South Park portion, where they actually brought Tom Cruise out of the closet.  It was worth it.  Totally worth it.

Or I could regale the joyous news that I’ve been successful at walking every night this week.  I even went running last night.  Charlie is a real pro at jogging; he instinctively gets between myself and whomever else we pass, even if it’s a large truck.  Nice to know I’m protected from diesel engines.

I could fill you in that I’ve been making hand-made invitations for the wedding and my wrist hurts.

I could share with you that we saw Fern walking down the street, waving to people.. through the windows into their houses.  And she doesn’t know those people.. they moved in a mere week ago.

I could whine that a friend of mine went and saw the “Bodies” exhibit in Atlanta, and I am jealous as all hell.  Number one, because she went out of town, and number two, because I love dead bodies.

I could admit that I’m a freak.

But here is really what is overarching in my life right now: I’m happy.  I’m fixing to start my 26th year on this planet, with a job more successful than I thought I would be at 26, fixing to be married to man that I love more than I realized was possible, and all of my friends are happy and fulfilled and loved.  (Yes, “FIXING TO”.  Get over it.)

Tonight is Book Club.  I haven’t read the book.  I don’t even own the book.  But I’m going to go sit with women I love and admire and just be happy. (And drink wine. <– for Bryan)

Sometimes, albeit rarely, things just all feel right.