So Saturday night I had a costume party to attend. I went as Katie Holmes. I had a wig, giant sun glasses, and Suri. It didn’t quite work. I think I’m just not as in touch with my psycho-alien worshiping pop culture icon as I should be.

Sunday night saw this guy in concert.

Totally awesome experience. If you get the chance, you MUST see him. At one point in a song, we shared a moment, Chris Tomlin and I. Seriously, our eyes met. The crowds parted. He looked at me, and I got his message loud and clear. He said, “You+Me=Forever.” Plain as day. Of course, it might’ve also have been a look that said, “Please duck down short girl in the fifth row so I can see hot blonde chick in sixth row.” But I will cling to hope. I’m usually not wrong about these things.

Anyway, I highly recommend Chris Tomlin’s latest CD, See the Morning. It will be the last one he puts out not dedicated to me.

You can check out “Made to Worship” here.

Clarity is terrible, but check this out (not that I relate or anything).

Those who know me well (okay, even those who have ever spent more than five seconds in my presence), know that I am accident prone and a walking disaster on a regular basis. I usually have so much going on in my head (Not deep, insightful thoughts like figuring out how to change the cellular makeup of a cancer cell or brainstorming ways to end global warming. No, no. Usually things like: Why did Friends have to go off the air? Has it really been three whole weeks since I’ve had a Rice Krispy treat? If I’m on a 2000 calorie a day diet, how many Twix candy bars can I eat before I reach my limit? As I was saying, I usually have soooo much going on in my head that I’m not as aware of my surroundings as I should be.

But at least I’m not this guy.

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) – Picasso’s famed “Dream” painting turned into a nightmare for Las Vegas casino magnate Steve Wynn when he accidentally gave the multimillion dollar canvas an elbow.

Wynn had just finalized a $139 million sale to another collector of his painting, called “Le Reve” (The Dream), when he poked a finger-sized hole in the artwork while showing it to friends at his Las Vegas office a couple of weeks ago.

Wrote a little poem today. Goes something like this:

TRUE HURT
Pretty, pretty new fridge.
You promised to keep my bologna cold.
But you lied. You LIED!
Now I search for your replacement.
Since you died on my kitchen floor.
It’s over.
Over.
I take comfort in only one thing.
A Taco Bell Chalupa.

Take a stroll down memory lane with me.
When I was little I wanted a Barbie Dream House. You know, the totally cool mansion that Barbie lived in with a Ken of her choice. I remember my dad’s birthday gift was to be Barbie’s abode. He shows up and presents the gift to me like he’s standing on a mountain top, holding up the future Lion King. I rip the box open. My face falls. Barbie’s Dream House? Crap, I didn’t even get Skipper’s pool house. I got Barbie’s Townhouse. As in Barbie’s rent-subsidized condo. As in none of the other Barbies would come play because my Barbie’s house was straight from the projects. But I digress. When I was seven-ish, this was what had my heart racing:

Did you notice the deluxe built-in closets? My Barbie had to store her things in a shoe box.

Then about a year later, with their signatured butt-cheeks, these guys stole my heart:

Then in 1986, I totally fell in love with Maverick. (BEFORE he jumped on Oprah’s couch.)

The pre-teens years, these babies turned my head:

I grew up a little (Yes, I know. Very little.)and was beyond excited when I got this:

After I FINALLY passed that super hard driver’s test (ahem, four tries), I was walking on air when I got:

And no, they don’t make those anymore. I think they’re illegal in all places but a few third world countries.

But today. Today I got all excited again. Over this newest purchase:

And it hit me. I’m so pathetic. If I ever had any cool, it’s officially gone now. How sad is it that a stinkin’ refrigerator makes me happy?

Stay tuned. Next week I have close-ups of my washing machine. They’re just as hot.