Top 10 Christmas movies (yes, I can name 10)

Honorable Mention: "Holiday Inn" It covers all of the holidays, not just Christmas. It has Fred Astaire tap dancing while playing with firecrackers. (News nugget about me -- I used to dance. Tap was my specialty. Fred Astaire is an icon.)










10. "Prancer" I remember being bored to tears during this movie, but I also remember watching it in the theater with my family. :)










9. "Santa Claus: The Movie" Gotta love the '80s. Also gotta love John Lithgow's evil plan to turn March 25 (my birthday) into a new holiday -- Christmas 2 -- to edge out the original Christmas. But mostly you gotta love how Lithgow meets his end: He eats too many tainted candy canes and floats off into space like an evil, rogue balloon. Awesome.








8. "The Grinch" I loved the animated tale when I was a kid and felt like a kid all over again when Jim Carrey brought it to life. I could have done without Cindy Lou Who's "Where Are You Christmas?" -- and also without Faith Hill's crappy version. Thankfully, the song didn't ruin the magic.





7. "A Christmas Story" I don't need to explain why this is on the list, but perhaps its location. Sorry, but it just doesn't get me all warm and fuzzy like the ones ranked higher. I can appreciate a leg lamp, pink bunny costume and tongue stuck to a pole, though.






6. "Miracle on 34th Street" I love old movies. I could watch Turner Classic Movies all day. Natalie Wood is perfect, Maureen O'Hara is perfect and everybody's hair is perfect. Why can't we all wear hats and gloves and have perfectly coiffed hair at all times? Oh... and the whole thing with the letters at the end? Love it.








5. "Home Alone" What kid hasn't fantasized about getting a chance to rule the roost, not to mention having free reign to booby-trap the whole place? And then there's this line: "Buzz, your girlfriend... woof!" Merry Christmas John Hughes, wherever you are.






4. "It's a Wonderful Life" George Bailey had a plan for his life. And it didn't work out. And all he can think of, most of the time, is how his life isn't what he wanted it to be. And then he has a REALLY bad day and contemplates ending it all by jumping off a bridge. Clarence saves him by jumping in first, and gives George a chance to see what the lives of his loved ones would be like if he'd never been born. In the end, George realizes his life is wonderful exactly how it is. If you don't appreciate the message and get a little emotional on this one, YOU HAVE NO SOUL.



3. "White Christmas" First of all, nobody beats Bing Crosby when singing the title tune. Secondly, the dancing makes my heart swell up with happiness. Third -- perfect outfits, perfect hair, perfect Rosemary Clooney. Perfection.






2. "Love Actually" This movie makes me really happy and really sad at the same time. It's funny, heartwarming, surprising, sad, and, most moving of all, hopeful. It makes even a snarky person like me believe that love really could be out there somewhere, and hopeful that I'll find it one of these Christmases.








1. "A Charlie Brown Christmas" I know it's not a movie, but I love it the most. What's better than a bunch of kids and Snoopy discovering what Christmas is all about? And, as some of you may have already guessed, I'm a big fan of scraggly trees with single red ornaments. :)

Random thoughts as of late

1. I really love the *hiss, pop, crack* sound of a can of soda being opened.

2. I also really love the sound of wrapping paper being torn.

3. Wouldn't it be awesome to have enough money to never have to do laundry? Just wear things and then go buy new things to wear.

4. I want to have a camp or a compound someday. Like you sometimes hear on CNN: "A spokesperson from the Stefanie compound said today..." "No word yet from the Stefanie camp on this latest information..."

5. Man, I wish I was brave enough to let people hear me sing. I'm awesome in my car.

6. Guys, no matter how old they are, are stupid. Guys are forever stupid. Stupid. Forever.

7. I'm really terrified of writing this book. I don't know why.

8. You know how some people romanticize the old days and say they were born in the wrong era? I don't do that. If I had been born in any other era, I would be working in a field somewhere.

9. Grandparents are the best things ever.

10. I hate Wal-Mart.

11. I love Harry Potter.

12. I really need to go get the oil changed in the car.

13. If it's true that all God's creatures serve a purpose, then Bill O'Reilly must be here specifically to piss me off.

14. I want to go to the movies.

15. Holiday lights should stay up at all times.

Christmas time is here!

More little things

I said earlier I'd do a post of the silly little things I'm thankful for, and here it is. It's nice to keep the little things that make us smile in mind. They help combat the big bad stuff.

1. The Muppets, especially when they're doing something awesome like this (once again Beaker steals the show):








2. Friends








3. Tamales









4. Christmas decorations





5. "All I Want for Christmas Is You"








6. Shiner











7. This bag (that I cannot afford).












8. The Longhorns.












9. Brisket (my dad's is the best; this is not a pic of his brisket).












10. Baking cookies.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love the idea that loved ones come together for no other purpose than just to be together. There's no pretense of religious obligation, or gifts, or patriotism. It's all about evaluating the things in life that you are thankful for and taking a little extra time to appreciate them. It's positive, and, let's face it, the world could use more positivity.

There's also delicious food involved, which is a big bonus. (Shout out to my aunt D's mashed potatoes and both grandmothers' stuffings.)

When I start to feel down, or restless, or just generally dissatisfied, I try to think of the things that I'm grateful for. Thanksgiving came at an opportune time this year, as I had been feeling blue for a couple of weeks prior. So in honor of the holiday, and as a reminder to myself that I am truly blessed, here is what I am thankful for:

1. My family, who love and support me even when I'm a brat and don't deserve it.
2. My friends, who are my family.
3. My health, of which I need to stop taking advantage.
4. My talent, of which I need to take advantage.
5. My independence.

That pretty much covers it. I could be silly and also give thanks for white chocolate mochas, National Cookie Day, "Bad Romance" and the grocery store express lane, but I'll save (the rest) of that for another post.

For now, I'll leave you with this:

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them." ~John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Book Review: "The Help"

My book club's selection this month was "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. It's a story about the lives of white women in 1960's Jackson, Mississippi and the black women who work for them. It's a story about racism, sexism, social heirarchy and violence. But mostly, it's a story about telling a story.

(Before I get any further -- special shout out to our hostess with the mostess for her delicious vegetarian Dilly Chili and caramel cake.)

I won't throw around our English class observations of symbolism, or our discussion of the relationships between female friends and mothers and their daughters. I also won't talk about individualism versus conformity, risk versus reward or the terms of the Southern class system. If you read the book, you'll get into all that yourself.

I will call out a friend of mine, who requested I write fewer book reviews and stick with the funny stuff. To that I offer a compromise (just this one time, though, because I can make it work. After this, buddy, you're S.O.L.)

If you want funny, here are the reasons you should read this book (no set up; no context):

1. He jiggles his hand between his legs, hitching up his knees. "Come on, get you some pecker pie!"

2. I saw that dress four days ago and I knew it looked hussified -- of course she had to pick the one with the low neckline -- but I had no idea what would happen when she stuffed herself inside it. She's popping out like a corn cob in Crisco.

3. "What? He's not supposed to know that I know that he knows about you."

4. Along the bottom of the check, in the little space for the notes, Miss Celia's written the words in pretty cursive handwriting: For Two-Slice Hilly.

5. "I'm sorry, but were you dropped on your head as an infant?"

6. "Mama, God doesn't care what day of the week it is," I say and make for the car before she can ask any more questions.

7. I have never in my life seen a thing like this. Three dozen of em. Pots. Right smack on Miss Hilly's lawn. Almost look like a crowd a people the way some got they lids open talking, some with they lids closed listening.

8. Either you quit beating on me, or I'm gone. And I'm not taking the kids either. Which ain't true, about the kids, but that ought to scare him more than anything.

9. Mother is shaking her head. "Hilly, darling. No young husband wants to come home and see this. Look at your hair. And that..." Mother frowns, peering closer at the cold sore. "That is not attractive, dear."

10. "I tell her to eat my shit."

Whether for the subject matter at the top or the list of funny parts, this is a book worth reading... and best enjoyed with a slice of caramel cake.

Movie Review: "This Is It"

Sorry these posts have been a bit sporadic lately. I'm headed out of town later this week and have been busy as hell trying to get stuff done beforehand. One thing I realized, though, was that I never wrote a movie review for the Michael Jackson's "This Is It," which I saw a couple of weeks ago.


Here's a bit of information for those who don't know me: I'm a HUGE Michael Jackson fan. So much so that when I used to teach at a dance studio (there's another tidbit for you) I would choreograph a recital routine to an MJ song every year without fail. One year I had my little girls do a tap dance to his version of "Rockin' Robin." I also used "Shake Your Body," "Scream," "Smooth Criminal," "Why You Wanna Trip on Me?" and I know I'm forgetting a few others.


So, this review will be in no way unbiased, nuetral or fair. The movie kicks ass because Michael kicks ass and will always be the greatest entertainer who ever lived. The End.

No, not the end.


This documentary is really interesting, regardless of your level of Michael fandom. Of course, I'm speaking as the movie nerd who really loves to watch DVDs with the commentary on so I can retain a whole bunch of information that may or may not come in handy during a game of Trivial Pursuit or Scene It. But I really think everyone will appreciate seeing MJ in his element: on stage.


The man was a freakin' genius. He had so many amazing ideas for these London shows, I'm convinced that the audiences would have been blown away. And the funny thing is, he didn't need any of it. He could have gone on to an empty stage and brought the house down. But that's not how Michael rolled. He was all about the spectacle, and that's definitely what he was going to deliver.


I'm not going to say that MJ was just a regular guy. The dude had issues. But he was an amazing artist and you see it in every second of this film. It's the dancers at the beginning who break down in tears (every single one) when they talk about having the chance to work with him. It's the musicians who change arrangements on a whim for him. It's special effects people, choreographers, producers, technicians, directors and even caterers who are happy to say "how high?" when they're asked to jump... because it's Michael.


Because he kicks ass and will always be the greatest entertainer who ever lived. The End.

What's a girl gotta do to get a jacket over a puddle these days?

I read this thing online today where this girl listed what she believes to be outdated gestures of chivalry. Actually, the term she used was "creepy." I am no doubt a feminist, but there are some things I don't agree with her on. Let's break down her list, shall we?

1. Ordering my meal for me.
I'll give her this one. It's awkward. Unless, of course, you've been dating for a while and you always get the same thing at a certain restaurant so he does it because he knows you'll get it anyway. But even in that case, a quick "that was right, right?" look would be in order.

2. Letting me win at a game.
In my case, this would never be an issue. I'm awesome. And kind of mean. And play for blood. He doesn't have a chance.

3. Using a code term for going to the bathroom.
What? I don't understand. Was this ever a chivalrous gesture? And if so, why?? Do guys think they need to protect us gals from talk of Number Two? It's not like it stops us from complaining about raging cramps in front of them.

4. Pulling out my chair.
This doesn't bother me. It's the standing behind me and trying to help me scoot in that bothers me. Thanks, but I got it.

5. Carrying my purse.
If I'm juggling a bunch of stuff in my arms, a helping hand is quite welcome, actually. But if the purse is the only thing I'm carrying, no assistance is needed.

6. Asking my dad for my hand in marriage.
I haven't asked my dad for permission to do anything since I turned 18. You don't need to, either. (Side note: I get that this is traditional and what not, but you're not marrying my dad. If you just HAVE to chat with him beforehand, it would be in your best interest to include my mom, too. And the conversation should go something like, "I love your daughter and am going to propose, just thought you'd like to know.") One person you SHOULD talk to about this is my sister, who can tell you exactly what ring I want and help you get it so you don't screw that part up. (KIDDING... sort of.)

7. If you're paying for dinner, not letting me put in for tip.
I'm actually ok with this, too. I mostly just offer to be polite.

8. Helping me put my coat on.
I love this. Extra points for you if you do it.

I'm annoyed by hyper-sensitive women who think that just because a man does something polite means he thinks she's incapable. Obviously I can open doors all by myself, but if a guy is there and does it for me... thanks. I'm perfectly capable of walking myself from a building to my car, but if a guy would like to walk with me... ok. If, while we're walking, the guy positions himself closest to the street... further bonus points!! My grandpa and dad do this and I love it. If it's cold out and I don't have a jacket, you go right ahead and offer me yours. I'd be happy to stop being cold.

Of course the days of men jumping to their feet whenever a woman enters a room are over (although, I must confess, I would LOVE to see this. I would pay that woman $100 to walk in, realize she forgot something, walk out, realize she didn't forget something after all, and walk right back in. Also... is it a myth that a man would take off his coat and lay it over a puddle so that a woman could walk without stepping in the water? That's another thing I'd love to see.)

The days of common courtesy should never be over. So guys, you go right ahead.

Important vs. not important

I spent the majority of the past week feeling pretty sorry for myself. Last Thursday, I took the day off from work just because. I had lunch with friends, did some shopping, had coffee with my sister and vegged out at home for the rest of the day. Sounds pretty great, yes?

Well, no.

After the shopping, when I was walking through the parking lot to my car, I stopped paying attention to my surroundings. I stepped into a patch of mud. My flip-flop slid forward, my knees buckled and the next thing I know, I've hit muddy asphalt. My shopping bag has flown three feet away. My purse and its contents are strewn about.

Besides being really embarassing, falling down really hurts. Especially when you land on your right knee. Especially when you land on your right knee when you have bad knees to begin with.

I try to go about my day as normal, but I know the best thing is to elevate and ice down this knee. So that's what I do. (I'll only briefly mention that on this same day I also manage to spill soda all over myself and sob like a little girl for about 10 minutes.)

Since that day one week ago, a gnarly bruise has wrapped itself almost completely around my leg and there's numbness below the kneecap where there's still a bit of swelling. I didn't like that numbness at all, so I went to the doc to see what she thought. She touched my knee, moved my leg around, poked me on bruises and asked if it hurt (YES! What are you, eight???) and finally told me that as long as I wasn't in pain (I wasn't until you started poking bruises, Dr. Jekyll) I should just keep icing it and give it time to heal. If any pain pops up, she'll order and MRI.

This would normally be good news, except "give it time to heal" means I can't do the half-marathon that I've been training for since July. (Confession: The term "training" is used loosely here, seeing as how I haven't done a thing in like a month.) Still, I planned to at least walk the route. But it's not a good idea on a bum knee, especially when my Chicago trip is four days after the race. I don't want to jeopardize that.

So today, one week later, I'm still feeling a bit pathetic. I feel stupid and clumsy for injuring myself like that, and then lazy and guilty for not being able to do the race. My knee is going to be fine, and I still feel sorry for myself.

And then I turn on the TV and 12 people are dead and 31 are injured at Fort Hood and suddenly none of my bullshit matters at all. My thoughts are with the loved ones of those who were hurt or killed.

A special place in hell

With Halloween looming and evil lurking around every corner, I've been inspired to put together a list of truly heinous beings who would roast in the afterlife if I had such power.

1. Those who do not return shopping carts to the shopping cart holder.

2. Slow drivers who are not in the right lane.

3. People who are unnecessarily mean to service workers (waiters, ushers, secretaries, customer service folks... you know, people whose job it is to try and make your life easier.)
3.a. The woman at work who directed the above attitude toward me when I first started at the company.

4. The crazy guy who tried to mug me at the bus stop.

5. Fans of Nickelback.

6. Whoever started the "win"/"fail" phrasing trend.

7. People who contribute the following to a conversation: "I don't know what to tell ya."

8. Rush Limbaugh.

9. Anybody who has a problem with me listing Rush Limbaugh.

10. Oklahomans, with a few exceptions.

11. On a serious note, anybody who hurts kids or animals.

12. Strangers who call you "sweetie" or " sweetheart" or "hon" or some other annoying term of endearment.

13. Guys who wear puka shells and popped collars.

We'll stop there. Thirteen seems like an appropriately superstitious number to have.

If we are friends and you fall into any of the above categories, we are no longer friends. (Not really, but we certainly need to have a serious conversation. Especially if you fall under numbers 3, 8-9, 11 or 13.)

Eye Worm

This video cracks me up. The guy in the striped shirt is my favorite. :)

Book Review: "Water for Elephants"

Tonight my book club met to chat about "Water for Elephants" by Sara Gruen. The meeting came complete with three varieties of popcorn and my elephant impression, not to mention some excellent owl cookies made by our hostess with the mostess. While quite enjoyable, none of those things were really necessary -- we were all completely satisfied by our love of the book. Although I don't think any of us would turn away from an owl cookie.

We agreed that this book has everything any reader could ever want. Action? Check. Romance? Check. Exotic setting? Check. Humor? Check. Suspense? Check. Rich characters? Double check. A well-designed and executed plot? Double check again.

In a nutshell: Jacob Jankowski is a 90 or 93-year-old man (he can't exactly remember) who lives in a nursing home and hates every second of it. When the circus comes to town and sets up around the corner, he starts to reminisce about days long ago during the Depression when he first learned about life and love...

Jacob is about to finish up at Cornell veterinary school when his life is struck by tragedy. He finds himself lost, physically and metaphorically, and ends up hopping onto a passing train because... well, why not? Turns out the train belongs to the Benzini Brothers Most Spectacular Show on Earth and Jacob immerses himself in the intricate and shady world of the circus. He meets the two loves of his life, Marlena and Rosie, one of whom murders his nemesis... and one of whom happens to be an elephant.

Who is the murderess? What happens to Jacob? How does his experience with the circus end? You'll have to read to find out.

One thing (of many) I loved was reading about the culture of the circus. It is structured by a class system, it has its own language and there are some rules that are never spoken, just understood. It reminded me a lot of when I used to work at a movie theater. I was an O.C. I spent most of my time on the floor but worked laundry at least once a weekend. I also worked booth one summer. The worst thing was when a film went down, especially if it was a bigger auditorium that had been bumped. We'd have to hand out passes when it broke while we did exit greetings. I take that back. The absolute worst was a technicolor yawn. That didn't happen often, but when it did... yuck! I always left work smelling like popcorn, but especially if someone flamed the cornbread. If turnaround times were short you were in for a tiring shift and if it was super busy you were expected to back bar or jump on to help out. A or C sides were best at the chance of leaving early, but B was generally the most fun. It really all depended on APSH.

Catch any of that? Maybe I'll write a book about working at movie theater and explain it.

Back to "Water for Elephants." Read it. It comes highly recommended. And if you're not much of a reader, guess what? There are pictures!!

Happily ever after, and that's ok with me

Last week I happened to catch "Aladdin" on the Disney Channel and it got me in the mood to go to my mom's house and borrow a bunch of the Disney movies she has on VHS. To my horror, she told me she had taken them all up to the store where she is a vendor. The 10-year-old within me burst forth, stomped her feet and demanded they be returned.

I know tantrums aren't attractive, but I stand firm that my mom came very close to committing a tragedy. Everyone knows that Disney puts their animated flicks on shelves for a limited time only, and only every few years. The rest of the time they're locked away in the "Disney Vault." (Does anybody else imagine a bank vault -- with a door in the shape of Mickey Mouse's head, of course -- guarded by a bunch of cartoons a la "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" No? Just me? Ok...)

Anyway, until these movies all come out on DVD and are part of my collection, the VHS copies are sacred. You will all be happy to know that they are now safe and sound in my apartment.

So this whole scenario got me to thinking: What is the big deal with these movies? Why do I have such an attachment? I'm 28... and a half... for Christ sakes!

After viewing them again for the first time in probably 15 years, a few things jumped out at me that I never really paid attention to before: Why do none of these girls have mothers? Why are they drawn to look like Barbie dolls when they're supposed to be 16-year-old kids? Why are they the misfit or screw-up in the story? And why, oh why, do they need to be rescued by the hero at the end when they've been feisty and independent throughout the whole rest of the story?

Alot of people take issue with these movies because they feel that they paint an unrealistic portrait of love and life. If the above points were the only evidence, I would be inclined to agree.

However, these issues don't take away from more important themes: Be true to your heart. Don't judge a book by its cover. Fight for what you believe in. Good triumphs over evil. The right person will love you for exactly who you are.

I never believed I would grow up, have a magical adventure and find the love of my life right around the same time I got my driver's license. I certainly never thought I'd look like a Barbie doll.

I do, however, firmly believe that people should be true to their hearts, not judge books by their covers and fight for what they believe in. I think good really does triumph over evil. And I will not settle for anyone who does not love me for exactly who I am.

And if that's what a little girl who loved (and still loves) these movies grew up to believe, how misleading can they really be?

Final note for the record:

Belle from "Beauty and the Beast" has always been my favorite Disney heroine. She's a spunky brunette bookworm who sees right through the advances of the town stud and says "thanks but no thanks." She stands up for herself when she's on the business end of one of the Beast's hissy fits. And, best of all, SHE saves HIM in the end.

Movie Review: "Couples Retreat"

Since this is my first movie review on this blog, I'll establish the rules: I write spoilers. If you're the type of person who gets pissed about that, don't read the post. That's the only rule.

Three couples on the rocks and one couple blindly approaching the rocks agree to go on a vacation in paradise. At least that's where they think they're going. They don't realize that there are two sides to paradise: the fun, partying side and the not so fun side with therapy. Guess where they end up?

Once they're there, there's a lot of serious mixed in with the funny. The therapy sessions are a tad more uncomfortable than humorous, and the couples' interactions are just painful. Both of these were intentional, I think. Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau are showing that they are grown ups who can write grown up movies now.

Of course, they still appreciate the nonsense. I imagine them sitting across eachother at a table, writing down random funny thoughts and putting them in a bowl:

Huge, naked black guy...
Inappropriate yoga instructor...
Panic over sharks...
Guitar Hero battle...
Mr. Belvedere reference...
Kid peeing in a toilet at the home improvement store...
Kid pooping in a toilet at the home improvement store...
The term "asstastic"...

Then it came time to draw out a couple of ideas and figure out a way to make them part of the overall plot. Instead, though, they just dumped all the ideas out of the bowl and decided a cohesive plot wasn't all that necessary once all the random funny stuff was in there.

Then they decided that all the characters would be flawed but be unwilling to see it. It would be the job of all the other characters to point out the flaws in their friends.

At some point they realized that this was kind of a bummer because none of these relationships would survive. They fixed this by having all the characters come to self-realization at the exact same time so that everyone could live happily ever after.

It's not a terrible movie, but it's also not great. I'm glad there was some satisfaction at the end... but I wish it was mine and not just the characters'.

My little things

It's very easy to get caught up in the things that make us tired, angry, sad and all-around negative. The little things are where we can find the happy balance. Here are mine, in no particular order:

1. The return of Pumpkin Spice to Starbucks.

2. This sweater (even thought it's still too hot to wear it.)

3. "Water For Elephants" by Sara Gruen (full review to come once my book club has discussed.)

4. These boots.

5. "Glee"

6. Getting good things in the mail.

7. My upcoming trip to Chicago.

8. Beaker.

9. Beaker, Swedish Chef and Animal singing "Danny Boy."

10. Diet Dr Pepper. (This is not a typo. There is no period after Dr in Dr Pepper, in case you didn't know.)

Book Review: "The Devil's Queen"

My book club (yes, I'm in a book club. And it's awesome, thanks for asking) met tonight to discuss our latest selection, "The Devil's Queen: A Novel of Catherine de Medici" by Jeanne Kalogridis.

~~ Pause for special thanks to our hostess with the mostess, who served an amazing baked cheese dish and some delicious apple punch. ~~

Let me start by saying I am super impressed by any author who has the skill to write historical fiction. The amount of research alone overwhelms, let alone coming up with a viable plot and characters. As one member tonight pointed out, "There are probably all kinds of crazies out there who will know if something isn't exactly right." It's not the first time I've heard historians called crazies. Hell, my history teachers over the years truly fit the bill. I'm talking to you, Mr. Cates. You and your big, scary beard.

Anyway.

Some messed up stuff happens in this book. Catherine is an orphan, spends time imprisoned, suffers from abandonment issues, has a husband who openly commits adultery and watches the people she loves constantly suffer.

Catherine is also responsible for the deaths of a lot of people.

In 2009, a woman with these same issues gets no sympathy. She's evil because there's no excuse for committing murder (except in cases of self-defense, so we'll allow that one.) And yet, in the book's 16th century setting, I'm on Catherine's side. I'm not saying she's right for her actions; I'm saying I understand.

The 16th century was rough times, man. In some cases it was kill or be killed. If those are the options, who can blame anybody for doing whatever it takes to be on the not dead side of the fight? Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

Yeah, ok, maybe Catherine was a little off. Maybe her reasoning was skewed and her reactions a bit extreme. She probably could have brought the dark stuff down a couple of notches. It might have helped quell the witch rumors, at least.

In this day and age, that woman is a lunatic. It doesn't matter if she kills because she thinks it's the only way to protect herself, her husband or her children -- she's hanging out in the big house with the women from "Snapped."

In 16th century France, crazy gets to be Queen.

New business for the record book

Answer: I don't know.

Question(s): What's this blog about? Why should I read it? Is it any good?

There are a lot of things I do know -- I like books, movies, music, football, cooking, shopping, dancing, traveling and the great outdoors. I also like giving my opinions about all of these things (and more). That in and of itself could be the answer to the question above. Those who know me personally know the ins and outs of who I am, but for those who have traveled through the blogosphere and stumbled across my little self-indulgent attempt at creative writing, use the following as a guide:

1. My name is Stefanie.
1a. Please note the spelling.
2. I am 28...
2a. ... and a half.
3. I want to be a writer.
3a. Technically, I am already. And not just on this blog, which likely only my family and friends will read. I write for a major publication and get paid to do it. It might go without saying that I'm not fully satisfied in my professional situation. And yet, I just said it.
4. I am from Texas.
4a. I have what is commonly known as Texas Pride.
4b. I am aware most non-Texans don't appreciate this.
4c. Deal with it.

Perhaps more personal information will be revealed in the course of my writing; perhaps not. For the sake of my job (which, despite its shortcomings, does manage to pay the bills) I think the more anonymous I can be, the better.

So, welcome. I hope you enjoy whatever future rambling appears here. I hope you enjoy it enough to tell your friends. I hope they enjoy it enough to tell theirs. If not, well... thank you for allowing me this indulgence all the same.