Confessions of a twentysomething drama queen
Yes. I'll admit it. I like movies made for thirteen-year-old girls. I went to see Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen last night. And I liked it. Silly clothes? Wacky adventures? British rock stars? A few catchy dance numbers? What's not to like? I also watched The Lizzy McGuire Movie the other week. That was good too. Except it had Italian rock stars. And the list goes on. What a Girl Wants. The Princess Diaries. Really they are far superior to the crappy romantic comedies aimed at my age group.

I'm also really excited for the season finale of the Bachelorette tomorrow.

A Texas Birthday Extravaganza
- I went to a rodeo and saw bull riding, calf roping and barrell racing. Oh and don't forget the mutton scramble.
- I went to the world's largest honky tonk, and it reminded me of Branson. Not that I've ever been to Branson, but it's what I imagine Branson would be like. The singer that night was approximately 95 years old and wearing a bad suit, and the average age of the audience was 75. There were a lot of cute old couples two-stepping, though.
- I had a number of people yell "New York City!" like in that salsa commercial after they found out where I was from.
- I had a real birthday cake and got to blow out the candles and everything.
- I went inside a mall and a real-sized grocery store for the first time in a long time.
- We drove around and explored horse ranches north of Fort Worth. It was a beautiful day (in the 60s!), and we cranked up the country music. Texas proud, play it loud.
- We had dinner with one of my work colleagues (that phrase cracks me up) who works in Texas. I've talked to her on the phone a lot, and it was realy weird meeting her in person.
- We went to one of Esquire's 100 best bars. The live band was named Pull My Finger, and we shut the place down with some real cowboys. One looked like a cranky Billy Bob Thorton and another looked like Toby Keith and had a former roping career (see real cowboy).
- But now I'm home and have to go back to work tomorrow. Sigh.

Upsides to taking yourself on a date
-No one complains if you want to see a three and a half hour movie.
-If you're running late, you won't seem cheap if you opt for a quick slice instead of the fancy sit-down meal. And by fancy sit-down meal, I mean Wendy's.
-You can get to a crowded 7:30 fillm at 7:29 and still find a good seat.
-You know you'll get to spend the night.

Downside to taking yourself on a date
-There's no one to hide behind during the scary parts of the movie, and hiding in your coat doesn't really help.

Countdown
In two short days I will be on my way to this state. Hooray for friends and cowboys and five-day weekends.

A trifecta (almost)
Okay, I'll admit it. I love this season of The Bachelorette. Did anyone else notice that three of the seven bachelors in last night's episode are pharmaceutical salesmen? I was really hoping for a final four with all three of them. Even if it meant she had to keep the guy with the scary eyes around. But two out of three ain't bad. One a more serious note, maybe this pattern points to Meredith's true motives for being on the show. She's not in it for love or finding a husband. She really just wants the drug hook-ups.

Zero tolerance
Apparently, my plan to save money by drinking water instead of Coke with lunch has had an unforeseen consequences. I can no longer handle caffeine. I had ONE coke last night at about 8, and I couldn't get to sleep at all. Either that or I'm starting menopause early and I was having a hot flash.

I heart New York (and me)
Watching the first three episodes of Sex and the City: Season Five tonight has inspired me to take myself on a date tomorrow night. Or maybe I'll be going on a date with the city.

Just when you thought the morning commute couldn't get worse

Warning: This story in not for the faint-of-heart.

The 4 train was crowded as usual this morning, but I decided that there was just enough room for me to squeeze on. Of course this meant that about six more people pushed in behind me. I couldn't budge an inch.

That's when I noticed the smell. It was a combination of Cheez-Its and feet. It was either coming from the scalp of the short woman standing directly in front of me and an inch and a half from my nose or from the arm pit four inches to the left of my nose. I tried turning my head, but that didn't help. Great. How far is it to the next stop? Much too far.

And it got worse.

At about that point in my mental game of "where is in the hell is that smell coming from?", I distinctly felt something, um, stiffen against my back. It belonged to the man with the outstretched arm and possibly smelly arm pit. I had no where to run. I had nowhere to hide. There was no way even for me to strategically place my bag in between me and the object in question. I just tried not to think about it, just like I avoided thinking about how the metal pole I was holding onto was teaming with germs. Then it was pressed into my back. I tried edging forward into the short woman to avoid it. It was pressed into my back. I tried edging to the right. It was pressed into my back. Please, please just let us get to the next stop. If I wasn't on an express train, I wouldn't have to put up with this so long. Would this be as gross if I could see more than just a disembodied arm? Yes, it probably would.

We finally arrived at 59th Street. People started shifting to left other passengers off the train. I jumped forward and pushed my way around the short, possibly smelly woman. She would make a good buffer zone. I caught a glimpse of the man as he turned and ran off the train. That's right, buddy, you better run.

Luckily, the train emptied out enough that I had a nice personal space bubble for the rest of the ride. I also solved the mystery of the Cheez-It smell. It had to be the woman because I smelled it all the way to Union Square. I got to work still wishing I had some sort of powerful disinfectant stashed in my desk some where.

Now that I have told this story, I'm going to start trying to repress the experience. Good night.