At 12:08 p.m. I typed the last word to book three, The Big Picture. I will now nap the rest of the week and eat bon-bons.

Actually I went directly to my car and down the road to McDonalds for a quarter- pounder, fries, and a shake. My mouth says, "Ohhh, thank you." But my arteries say, "Can't...breathe...please send help...like broccoli."

And I think I scared the people at the drive-thru. Did you know when you order they take a picture of your car and then pull it up when you pay? They didn't take my picture and things got messed up. The woman at the window said, "I don't know why he didn't get your picture. I guess he forgot." But he didn't take a picture of my car because I was hanging out of it. I went to McDonald's in what I like to call my "last days of deadline attire." Today's selection was a pink wife beater, green cut off sweats, no makeup, and Frito breath. Obviously the teen boy in charge of car pictures and orders was so taken by my beauty, he forgot what he was doing. Few people can pull this look off. It either says, "I've been writing nonstop for days and days and hygiene is currently not a good use of my time." OR "I like drinky, and I think my buddy Jack Daniels is super cool!" I totally should've gotten a free shake upgrade for their mistake.

So last week a few of us went to see the fabulous and currently sober Keith Urban. It was amazing. My sister-in-law had to take care of a sick family and couldn't go, so I won't gush too much. But that boy can sing AND play. And I'm not sure, but I think we had a moment. There was CLEARLY a time when our eyes met across the huge arena--when he looked up into the nosebleed section and thought..."Had I met you, girl who scares teen boys with your fashion violations, before Nicole...things might've been different." I saw it.

"Though I look like I'm into this song, I am really scanning the crowd for some Arkansas ladies. Are there any in the house?"


"I enjoy picking and grinning. Do you?" Why yes! Yes, I do!


"I'm sorry I'm so sweaty. I just get so into my music." Dude, I totally relate. Let me tell you about my trip to McDonald's...

In the hotel the next morning, we are just lounging around watching Regis and Kelly (She's skinny AND she has biceps. Why do we watch her?) and resting our vocal chords from the previous night of screaming. Then as we sit there in our pjs, the stinkin' alarm goes off! IN the room! And then it starts talking. I can't remember what it said. I was having flash backs to a few weeks ago when I set off my house alarm. But it said something like, "Get out, you lazy girls! You look like death and you need to shower, but now you can't because this alarm is going off! And no, you can't use the elevator because you will later eat your body weight in Cheesecake Factory cheesecake and need to burn off some calories! Go! Go!" So we scramble around for pants and bras (sound familiar? Geez, I think I'm just going to start sleeping in full attire.), giggle like maniacs (but I did think, if this is a fast burning fire, and I die because I had to stop and get a bra, I am going to be so ticked.), and race out the door. We follow a million EXIT signs until we actually do reach an exit and sprint down to the lobby. Where they look at us like idiots. Apparently it was just a mistake. They didn't offer any free shake upgrades either.

On a different note, I was so sad last week to hear about Joel Siegel passing away of cancer. He had my dream job--to watch movies, give your opinion, and get paid for it! Nobody did it better--not even those two dolts who sit in the balcony. Joel had class.

Okay, I'm out. I am going to nap like I've never napped before.
And probably change my clothes at some point.
Maybe.