Jarrah went to Spring Break camp today. I thought she might have been a little shy or nervous, but when I picked her up, her adorable counselor told me how great she did. I asked Jarrah about Adorable Counselor--what was his name? "Ummmm....I forget. Oh, CHAT!" Then I heard a bunch more about Chat on the way home.
This morning, I took my car in for a long-overdue oil change, and the man at Midas actually smiled and made eye contact every time he told me something, which was so nice and unusual it freaked me out. Then I went across the street to Starbucks for a change of scenery, and there were two guys fixing drinks and simultaneously auditioning for the reality show "The Boys of Starbucks."
"What'll you have, sweetness?" (Sweetness? Hmmm. I like it better than ma'am.)
"A tall vanilla latte, please."
"Oooo HOOO!" they both whooped. "Look at her! Ordering our sexiest drink! 'Cause she's so sexy!"
I was thinking I was all that by the time I sank into a surprisingly cushy chair with my Kindle, but then a howl rose from behind the counter: "An extra hot espresso for our HOTTEST customer!" A grandmotherly lady tiptoed up to claim her prize, blushing. Huh.
I mention these fine gentlemen, all of whom helped spark the twinkle in my eye today, because the world is full of lovely men, but you don't read about them in US Weekly. This week's issue housed a particularly illustrious assortment of testosterone trainwrecks for our amusement.
First, we have Mario Lopez--I did like his hip-swiveling on DWTS--on the impending birth of his first child: "If my baby turns out half as cool as my little dog, then we're set! I love my dog!" Your prescience is stunning, Mario, and you've called it: your baby will be half as cool as your dog. Have fun!
Then there's Jesse James, who is married to one of the few celebrities you can tell is a genuinely sweet person, but "showed poor judgment," in his words. And why did he do that? 'Cause he loves him some "hot, tattooed biker chicks with big boobs." Jesse? You thought you were startin' something beautiful with a girl who has "white power" tattooed on her thigh? Sure, sure, it wasn't Jesse himself whose "Heil, Hitler" pose was considered too risque for US Weekly (yes, you read that correctly.) But, having actually met her, he thought one of her virtues was discretion?
Maybe he needs to have coffee with Tiger Woods, whose latest round of "sexts" with a porn star (really, that word) is presented for posterity. Amongst the gems: "I want to treat you rough. Throw you around, spank and slap you." Well, Tiger, thanks for sharing! I'll check my schedule! And this: "Do you ever hook up with other girls...does that excite you at all or no?" Oh, you are so sweet to ask! But I'm a little busy with this cross-stitch right now!
But the part where I actually CRIED laughing was this opaque bit of literary fancy by our intrepid US reporter: "A glance at the racy messages posted by [the porn star] reveal a man obsessed with three-ways, spanking and unsanitary bedroom moves."
Unsanitary bedroom moves? This is the most fabulous euphemism ever written in English. It should win a euphemism contest. Let's see, what could it mean? Gasp! Does Tiger insist on wearing his dirty golf socks in bed? Wait...does he eat pizza under the covers???? The mind reels; the stomach lurches. I know! I know! He flosses in front of her! Ewwwww! Grossssss!
Then there's the celebrity-illustrated review of a fabulous-sounding new book called Undateable. This book helpfully categorizes the losers, so you don't have to! Some of the tips seem obvious, like "If he spends 45 minutes talking about his mother, run!" and "If he makes scowly faces when you order the lobster, he's bad news," but I am still recovering from the giggle fit provoked by the imperative to avoid men who "use phrases like bee-yatch and chillaxin'. "Cool slang? No. A major turnoff? Yes."
Ever since I read this, I can't think about it without doubling over in a crazy, wheezing giggle attack, even if I'm just chillaxin' with my bee-yatches. Because chillaxin' may be the funniest word ever. It's tied with "unsanitary bedroom moves," if that were a word instead of a phrase. The moral of the story is this: if US Weekly had reported Tiger was chillaxin' while practicing those unsanitary bedroom moves, I might have required an oxygen mask.
So Readers, what valuable lessons can we learn from this week's issue? What wisdom is being imparted? First, if you are a stripper or porn star dating a celebrity, save all your texts. Second, if you are an US Weekly reporter, order the lobster.
Third, remove your socks before chillaxin'.