long time, no write

I’m alive. I swear. There’s been a lot going on in Casa D (and my life) and I decided to take some time away from the blog.

Basically: I needed a break.

While I’m not entirely ready to explain EVERYTHING, I am ready to talk about some things beyond my usual pop culture rants, top ten lists and dumb-things-that-happen-to-me recollections.

For instance? I’e decided to go back here.

I guess I’m a sadist. Just like Anastasia Steele

But don’t worry. I won’t stray too far from my bread and butter. There are far too many things happening in the world of pop culture for me to ignore. Besides, The Bachelorette started. And that show BEGS to be mocked. And law school will simply add to the amount of dumb things that happen in my life. Seriously. Have you ever met a law student (or worse, a group of law students)? They’re awful (and oftentimes rather stupid) creatures. There are entire blogs (or blawgs, if you will) devoted to the idiocy of law students. [Don’t believe me? Check out my girl, Legally Fab]

I’m taking a summer class taught by one of my favorite human beings (not just law professors) ever, KFO. Barely an hour into the class, I was able to identify the class’s gunner. I’m already trying to figure out a way to tape his mouth shut for the duration of the semester. I whispered to my friend, Pete, today that there is an excellent chance that I will fight this guy by the end of the semester. He agreed the OG (Original Gunna) needs to be stopped. I’ll keep y’all updated.

In other news, Will Smith reminds everyone that he is, in fact, King of Awesome by performing the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song on the Graham Norton Show.

I totally want to be best friends with him.


Dirty (un)Sexy Politics

I was all set to write about Axl Rose’s bizarre letter to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame today or maybe the “shocking” exit on American Idol, but then something else happened that I couldn’t resist putting my two cents into. And, warning, it’s political. Again. Can’t help it. These people are bringing it on themselves. (and don’t worry. Axl and Idol are on my ‘to do’ list tomorrow!)

Wednesday evening on Anderson Cooper (an S-Dizzle staple), Democratic strategist Hilary Rosen started a firestorm when she attacked Ann Romney by saying she was out of touch with modern women because she had never worked a day in her life.

Now, although I disagree with Rosen’s comments (seriously? raising 5 boys close in age ISN’T a full time job???), that wasn’t what bothered me.

It was the truly horrific comments that people felt the need to tweet after the whole debacle. (Thanks, Emily for bringing it to my attention).

A sampling of tweets (be aware, there’s some really gross and disgusting language. I’m not condoning and I think it’s deplorable)


First of all, I can’t think of a scenario when calling a woman a “stupid, ugly, cunt bitch” is appropriate. Secondly, I feel the need to remind everyone this is stemming from comments that Ann Romney didn’t even make! Someone (another woman, in fact) called her out on never having a “real job” and not understanding struggle because she comes from money. This isn’t some case when a candidate’s spouse shot off their mouth. This is the case of a woman being told that because she didn’t have a job outside the home, she couldn’t POSSIBLY understand what other women go through. But that’s not what drives me crazy.

It was the total classless and disgusting reaction of some on twitter. Honestly, how does calling the former First Lady of Massachusetts a worthless bitch add ANYTHING to the debate. Newsflash: it doesn’t. All it does it make you look stupid. And trashy.

At a time when the term “war on women” is being thrown around fast and loose (and as a woman, I’m not exactly sure who my nemesis is supposed to be these days), gross and ineffective “political” (I use the term VERY loosely) statements from the braintrust on twitter make you wonder who the real “enemy” is…and they aren’t Republicans or Democrats.

It’s the idiots on twitter (or Facebook, myspace, blogs…whatever) that are the real problem. It’s the people that call women “cunts”, “bitches” and to “shut your fucking mouth” from the comfort of their homes (more likely their mothers’ basements) without realizing just how destructive it is to refer to a woman—ANY woman— like that. THERE’S your problem. And it doesn’t come with an R or a D after their name. It comes with a @  BEFORE their name (or an anonymous handle like “FearlessWarrior” “HotDude8835” or “LivinInMomsBasement2353”).

I’m alllll about social media. I tweet. I Facebook. I pin. I blog. I foursquare. I’m always looking for the newest trinket or tool in new media. But I’m also all about using social media responsibly and effectively. And throwing around profanities and name-calling for no actual reason is not why social media was invented. Sure, I’ll mock contestants on American Idol. I’ll call Christina Aguilera a fool while watching the Voice. I’ll tweet mean things at Toronto Blue Jays players (come on, they’re from CANADA). But those are in jest and (what I hope) are funny. And I’m 110% sure the phrase “stupid bitch whore cunt” is nowhere to be found in my twittefeed. Mockery of the Real Housewives? Absolutely. Thinly (and not so thinly) veiled insults a the Cleveland Indians (and their opponents)? Without a doubt. But I’m also keenly aware of what I say and how I say it. And I would never cut down another woman for being wealthy or being a stay-at-home mother.

I also have to defend my girl Ann Romney (also referred to as “First Lady Barbie” or “Lovey Howell”…but all with affection!). So she didn’t work outside the home. Big deal. She raised five sons. I’ve babysat for families with TWO boys and I couldn’t wait to go home. I can’t imagine FIVE in the house—and she didn’t have the luxury of “going home.” Also, I have to take issue with statements that Ann Romney doesn’t know struggle. Fact check, people. She’s living with Multiple Sclerosis and is a Breast Cancer survivor. I think that qualifies as a struggle, no? So let’s recap: raised 5 boys while her husband worked (and it’s probably likely he worked insane hours when the boys were little), beat Breast Cancer, lives (and thrives!) with Multiple Sclerosis and made it through two Presidential campaigns. That’s pretty baller (in my opinion).

Regardless of your political opinion on Ann Romney, we can ALL agree to call the geniuses commenting above what they are: bullies. In an age where everyone is concerned about bullying, we shouldn’t just toss the idiots aside with a shrug, going “well that’s politics”—it shouldn’t have to be like that. I’m all for intelligent discussion and debate…but calling a candidate’s wife a “dumb bitch” isn’t exactly breaking a mental sweat, now is it. But it’s easier to hide behind a computer screen and call someone a “heartless whore cunt” than think of something substantial to say.

But I suppose on the opposite end, it IS how the Real Housewives make their living.

I want a text from Hillary…

I’m going to say something that might shock a lot of you.

Hillary Clinton is awesome.

I know, I know. Sometimes I don’t agree with her politically, but I can’t help but think she’s totally and completely awesome. Despite her speech at the Women in the World Summit (which was ridiculous), I’m not ashamed to say I’m a Republican that loves Hillary Clinton (that’s totally for you Dara!).

And I’m clearly not the only one. In case you’ve been living under a rock (or perhaps don’t spend stupid amounts of time on the interwebs like a certain someone), you’ve missed the best tumblr since Newt Judges You.

Enter Texts From Hillary.

Basically, this badass picture of Hil started circulating around the internet.

photo from the Atlantic Wire

Pretty awesome, no?

Then the fun really began.



But wait. It gets better. Madam Secretary was so tickled by it, she created one herself.


In other political news (I know, I know. I promised I wouldn’t get political, but I can’t help it), Rick Santorum ended his Presidential campaign, clearing the way for Thurston Howell III…I mean Mitt Romney. I can’t say I’m totally surprised. The writing was on the wall and it was becoming obvious Santorum wasn’t going to win (are you listening, Newt Gingrich?? Clearly you aren’t.) and wisely decided to leave the race. But not before giving America a taste of the Santorum crazy-train.

Here’s my own list of my favorite (read: batshit crazy) moments of Santorum 2012:

alienating the voters of Puerto Rico

freaking out on Charlie Rose over Foster Friess’ aspirin comment

advocating a Romney/Ron Paul conspiracy theory (NOT ironically)

holding a ‘family values’ campaign event at a shady Michigan nightclub

calling the President a bad dad (and a snob)

Oh Rick Santorum, I’ll miss you! (I don’t think Newt will though)

“In the future everyone dresses like Katy Perry”

Oh sweet little blog, I have neglected you for FAR too long. And you, my dear readers, I’ve neglected you too. I’m sorry. If I could send you all fountain diet cokes and chocolate chip cookies as “I’m sorry presents”, I totally would. Because, really, is there anything better than fountain diet coke and homemade chocolate chip cookies? I think not.

There’s a LOT going on in my life at the moment and rather than bore y’all with the details, I’m going to gloss over everything. Because, frankly (ugh, I’m starting to sound like Newt Gingrich. Minus the Tiffany’s line of credit. And the megalomania), I’m entirely exhausted of talking about it. But I DO promise a post in the near future explaining everything. I just don’t have it in me right now. Besides, the weather is way too nice to be talking (or even thinking) about depressing things.

The long Easter weekend was just about perfect. I caught up with friends and family in the C-L-E that I hadn’t seen in forever (but there are still many many more that need to be remedied!) and had some much-needed downtime to relax.

Let’s recap.

Thursday was Cleveland Indians Opening Day, which happens to be one of my FAVORITE days of the year. Terry Pluto, one of my all-time favorite writers, wrote an excellent column about the tradition of Opening Day last week that I can’t even begin to sum up. Just click the link and read it, even if you’re not a baseball fan. If you’re a fan of family, traditions, history or have any sort of heart at all, you’ll appreciate it.

Opening Day always makes me think about my family, particularly my siblings and my dad (and by extension, my super-amazing late grandfather). Baseball for us, like many families, is special. It ties us together. Some of my earliest memories are going to baseball games at the old Municipal Stadium with my dad and grandfather. Because I was a picky eater as a kid, my mom ALWAYS packed me a sandwich (I hated hot dogs) and two orange Kool Aid juice boxes. Why two? One for me and one for my grandfather, duh (why I didn’t insist on three is beyond me. Sorry, Dad!). Now, I’m sure the last thing he wanted to drink at the ballpark was orange flavored sugar water and would have MUCH rather preferred a beer (these WERE the 1980s Cleveland Indians. Boozing was required to get through a game), he always humored me and acted like he couldn’t imagine sitting through a baseball game without one. Now that’s true love, people. I wish I had some pictures of the three of us at a game, but, sadly, the best I can do is the memories in my head. Or perhaps draw a picture. I’m very good with stick figures.

This clip from “Field of Dreams” (a Casa D staple growing up) that says it all. Baseball is a constant. It ties generations together. History is respected. There’s a reason on Opening Day you see so many families sitting together, three (or more!) generations laughing (usually at the Tribe’s expense) and cheering. I know one day if I ever have children, I’ll be taking them down to Jacobs Field (whatever, it’ll never be Progressive Field to me), each April, molding them into the sad little creatures the rest of the world knows as “The Cleveland Sports Fan”

Thursday also meant dinner with m’bestie, Sarah (or Kres, or Mama-to-be. She answers to them all). We hit up Angelo’s Pizza in Lakewood for a much needed catch-up session and some yummy margarita pizza. If you haven’t been there before (and live in the CLE), I highly suggest going. The dining area is quite small and fills up quickly in the evenings, but no worries. They do take out and delivery.

And, on Saturday, I FINALLY got to see THIS with my friend, Rachel.

I was so excited and so spastic about FINALLY getting to see Katniss and Peeta (and Cinna! Heart you so bad, Lenny Kravitz), I knocked my diet coke into my purse. So for the remainder of the day, I walked around with wet handbag that also smelled like diet coke. But it didn’t matter. I was too pumped about the movie to care.

I normally don’t get this excited for books-turning-into-movies (the Winona Ryder “Little Women” is an exception. I think I talked about seeing that movie for six months until it came out and my mother was forced to take me—and sit with me while I cried my little eyes out). We’ve already discussed my hatred for all things “Twilight” and I’m not huge on Nicholas Sparks/John Grisham/Whatever-Chick-Lit-Is-Being-Optioned-Today. That’s not to say I don’t like reading those books (with the exception of Nicholas Sparks. I can read one of his books and feel like I’ve read them all). I do. I might make an exception if my girl Jen Lancaster ever options one of her books into a movie. But normally, I’m a book girl. Always have been, always will be.

But, “The Hunger Games” won me over. And I’m happy to report Rach and I were NOT the oldest people in the movie theater.

However, we WERE the snarkiest. We can’t help it. It just happens. It’s innate in us. We BREATHE snark.

Not ten minutes into the movie, Rachel leans over to me and whispers (in a scary, futuristic voice) “In the future, everyone dresses like Katy Perry.” (if you’ve seen the movie—or even previews—you’ll notice that most of the people in it look like extras from a Katy Perry video or, at very least, like they’ve raided Lady Gaga’s closet).

I laughed so hard, I choked on my popcorn.

I’m sure we annoyed everyone else sitting around us with our running commentary: “Think that kid will turn into a werewolf now?” “Ohh, I wonder where Lenny got his gold eyeliner. I wonder if the girls at Sephora can help me later” and “There should definitely be an ‘Avengers’ type movie with Katniss, Peeta, Edward Cullen and Bella. And the ‘Babysitters Club’ can show up too. You know, to get our generation into it” (I should preface by saying that Rach and I have long ago said goodbye to our teenage years).

Sadly, I would definitely watch a ‘Babysitters Club Hunger Games” (No doubt Kristy Thomas would win. She’s a cutthroat bi-oytch, that one).

Easter was lovely. Lots of food and family. My mom, sister and cousins made my Aunt Carol a scrapbook (like the one we made for my grandmother) and we FINALLY finished it on Saturday. We were so pumped to give it to her and, no surprise, she loved it. Being away from family really makes you appreciate the time you do have.

So that’s it. I have to catch up on tonight’s episode of “The Voice” (Tony Lucca better be safe, or I’m blaming Christina Aguilera. But, whatever, I’d blame her for something else).

Oscars liveblog!

Every time an awards show airs, I get it in my head that I’ll do a liveblog. But every time I forget about it and end up drinking wine out of a red plastic tumbler.

But this year my only drink of choice is Diet Coke, meaning I’ll be able to ACTUALLY liveblog.

I know you’re all pumped.

7:59: Sort through twitterfeed and make witty retorts about Nick Nolte.

8:07: The Hunger Games trailer airs. I squeal a little. I am so excited for this movie, it’s ridiculous. Calm myself down and eat a black & white cookie.

8:11: Roll eyes at George Clooney and his walking Oscar Barbie (Stacy Keibler). He flirts with Robin Roberts while OB (Oscar Barbie) looks on, unsure of what she’s supposed to say. Tim Gunn talks to Brad Pitt who looks like he needs a shower.

8:15: montage of who celebs think will win/want to win. Clooney says he’s rooting for the Descendants. In other shocking news, the sky is blue.

8:17: This Google Commercial airs. I’m obsessed. 

8:23: I definitely would want to hang out with Tom Hanks. Also? Brian Grazer has really weird hair.

8:26: Roommate, T, walks in and says “Of course you’d be watching this.” I throw an empty diet coke can at him and tell him he’s the worst.

8:31: Roommate, L, walks in and comments that Morgan Freeman is a baller for wearing two different earrings

8:32: Billy Crystal shows up.

8:33: Billy Crystal proceeds to do a little Oscars intro. Worst moment? Seeing a Ginger Billy. That’s something I’ll never unsee.

8:37: Billy’s inevitable song and dance. I can’t help it. I’m smiling. Apparently, accords to the twitters, everyone else hates it. Whatever.

8:43: Some guy that looks like Billy Connolly wins some award that no one cares about. Some Italians win another award no one cares about.

8:55: Realize liveblogging and livetweeting at the same time was a terrible idea. Briefly consider scrapping both and opening a bottle of wine. Decide against the wine and continue blogging and tweeting until my little fingers bleed.

8:56: Jennifer Lopez and Cameron Diaz present ‘best costume design’ and both look terrible. Jennifer’s dress was both shiny and pleated, Cameron’s had weird shiny parts and feathers. Awful.

9:00: More boring awards. Receive tweet from my pal, Zac, telling me how wrong I am about J-Lo & Cameron. Have to explain the difference between girl hot and guy hot. Also, must remind me that the Oscars are not the cover of FHM.

9:05: Sandra Bullock presents the award for foreign language film. Think about how awesome she is, but that her dress is awful.

9:13: Octavia Spencer wins Best Supporting Actress. Boring. I’d have rather seen Melissa McCarthy win. Also? Getting bored with twitter. No one is appreciating my witty barbs.

9:20: Some weird black and white Christopher Guest bit. But I do love me some Fred Willard and Catherine O’Hara. I didn’t understand it, but I’m a fan. And if you haven’t seen For Your Consideration, please remedy it immediately.

9:25: Tina Fey, Bradley Cooper and Bradley Cooper’s mustache present a bunch of awards that no one cares about. Also? What’s the difference between sound mixing and sound editing. They sound the same.

9:35: Kermit and Miss Piggy show up and introduce the creepiness that is Cirque de Soleil. I think about using this time to refresh my diet coke.

9:37: Cirque de Soleil is creepier than I remember. Not even a nod to North by Northwest can save it.

9:40: Billy Crystal makes fun of Christopher Plummer. No one mocks Captain Von Trapp & gets away with it.

9:41: Robert Downey Jr. shows up and I forget my anger at Billy. He’s wearing a very dapper silver sparkly bow-tie. I’m in love.

9:45: Chris Rock is still the unfunniest person in the room. And tells a race joke. In other shocking news: the sky is blue.

9:52: Emma Stone is adorable. But I’m pretty sure Nicole Kidman wore the same dress a few years ago.

9:55: Jason Isaacs need to be in more. I don’t care what. He just needs to be in my life more.

9:58: Melissa Leo manages to get through her intro without dropping an F-bomb. An improvement over last year. Also? If anyone but Christopher Plummer wins Best Supporting Actor, it is fixed.

10:00: Christopher Plummer wins. I won’t have to write a nasty letter to the Academy. Captain Von Trapp finally wins an Oscar. And his acceptance speech was perfect.

10:07: Start to get bored with the entire show. Contemplate going to sleep.

10:09: Billy Crystal does a dead-on Martin Scorsese impression. And a dead-on Nick Nolte.

10:16: Will Ferrell and Zach Galifianakis show up in white tails with cymbals. I have no idea why, except that it’s awesome.

UPDATE: Yes, I did fall asleep. Sadly, the Oscars didn’t hold my attention this year.

misadventures with the United States Post Office

It’s no secret I’m not a fan of the Post Office. In fact, on most days, I rather loathe it. Last Saturday’s fiasco with the Arlington branch(es) only fueled my hate-fire (is that a word? If it isn’t, it should be. I’m submitting it to Webster’s next year) of the USPS.

Since moving to DC, I’ve been incredibly homesick. Despite having friends in the area (whom I don’t get to see often because I work so much), it’s been a pretty lonely experience. There have been a few occasions when all I’ve wanted to do is hope in my car and drive the 6 hours to Cleveland to crash on my parents’ couch with my dog.

But I haven’t. Mostly because there’s so much to do with work…but also because just the thought of driving for 6 hours makes me sleepy.

My poor parents have shouldered the brunt of my homesickness-meltdowns (Hi, guys. Thanks for not hanging up on me.) and I’m sure have rolled their eyes when they see its me calling for another round of “Guess Why I’m Crying Today?”

But instead of changing their phone numbers, they sent me a care package from the C-L-E (seriously, how great are they? I definitely don’t deserve them). When I got home from my pal Leah’s farewell fiesta last Friday, I saw the ‘sorry we missed you, you have a package’ card. My mom sent it certified, mainly because she’s afraid someone will steal my mail.

I stopped by the post office near my house first thing on Saturday morning. I handed the card to the super helpful bureaucrat who looked like she would rather be 100 other places, including the dentist. She took one look at the card and promptly told me she couldn’t help me.

“But I live two blocks from here!” I cried. “This is my post office!”

She (super)helpfully pointed to the address on the card. “This says you have to go to the Jackson Avenue branch. We don’t have it here.”

I again tried to tell her that even though I just moved here, I was pretty sure my package would be at the branch closest to my house.

SHB (Super Helpful Bureaucrat) essentially rolled her eyes and said I needed to go to the other post office. I sighed, but acquiesced. I wanted whatever was in the care package and was not about to wait until Tuesday for it (since Monday would be President’s Day = no mail service). I hop in my car, plug in the address to the GPS and see that it’s not TOO far from me.

This is when things got weird(er).  Continue reading

Happy Valentine’s Day from Courtney & Doug

Well, CPAC is over and the site is officially launched. I’m exhausted, but in a really good way. (side note: I am also sick. I wasn’t aware of the CPAC plague until this year. Although I may have gotten sick in college after going, I don’t really remember).

CPAC was equal amounts stress and fun. Our booth was a success, our publication launched, Reaganpalooza was well attended, and I got to meet Chuck Woolery. Yes, good times by all. I know if you spoke to me on Saturday afternoon, I was a mess (sorry about that!). I was SO exhausted and stressed and I missed my family (and home) so much. But, I went to the party, got some sleep, and woke up feeling much better. Except for the flu bug. That was still there (and it still sucked).

The highlight of CPAC (aside from seeing old friends from college whom I absolutely adore), was when my friends and I ended up the Newt 2012 pizza party. We weren’t allowed into the OTHER party we were supposed to be at (Thanks, Murphy’s Pub for being such a-holes about it, too), we ended up at Newt’s. A big thanks to the Newt people for giving two very tired (and hungry!) writers some pizza.

That brings us to today. Valentine’s Day. Specifically how my favorite trainwreck and her grandpa-husband are celebrating V-Day.

Aww, look at that. They’re re-creating Lady and the Tramp. So cute. Go here to see the full Daily Mail piece. But I’d advise against reading it if you’re eating anything. You will likely choke on your own vomit.

In other news, I lost my cell phone at CPAC. Yup. One minute I’m sitting in the media room, covering Andrew Breitbart’s speech, and then next I’m freaking out at the front desk about my phone. I ordered a Blackberry to get me through the next few months (before I can switch back to Verizon! Hopefully the iPhone 5 will be out by then). I already miss my poor iPhone. Sads.

A bunch of my friends were in town for CPAC, but I really didn’t get to spend much time with them. I worked basically the entire time, but I did manage to have dinner with them on Saturday. But two hours was definitely not enough. I’m excited that they’re coming back in two months for YRLC!

Life’s good, though. I still miss home (and I think I always will), but I love my job and DC is growing on me. Hopefully I’ll be getting home in the next few weeks: baby showers and weddings are on the agenda 🙂