Love. Her.

I have a massive crush on Lorelai Gilmore Lauren Graham. I'm going to check out Parenthood just because of her. (Although I wish she'd skipped that movie with Vin Diesel.) Anyway, lovely article here.

I wish she was one of my besties.

No offense to my actual besties.

(With many apologies for using the word "besties." Twice.)

All kinds of fail

I mean, the family decals are bad enough. But here, straight from Chattanooga, Tennessee, I bring you the family tree car decals. Keep your barf bag handy.

(Yeah. They were in the car when we stopped to take this picture. But you put eleventy billion family members on the back of your SUV, and you're just asking to be made fun of.)

Deep thoughts by Lil' Wayne

That sweet face-tattooed rapper. He knows that the Lord is sending him to prison so he can experience life behind bars. This has absolutely nothing to do with his decision to carry a .40-caliber handgun on his tour bus back in July 2007.

"He says his prison term is God's will for him and everything happens for a reason. 'I look at things as 'Everything is meant to be.' I know it's an experience that I need to have if God's putting me through it.' "

Or it's an experience you need to have because the court said so. As in, a consequence for your actions.

P.S. Lil' Wayne sorta terrifies me.

via People

Check out this site

I've been reading this wedding design blog for a couple of years, so I figure it's high time I share. I know my latest posts have left y'all thinking I'm a total cynic, but see! I love love! Especially well-designed love!

The best part of this blog is that it covers so many elements: wedding/bridesmaids dresses, shoes, jewelry; cakes, desserts, favors; great photography; and fantastic details. I'm such a sucker for details.

I kind of want to get married again be a wedding planner a la JLo in—what else—The Wedding Planner. But with a smaller derriere.

PTL. Literally.

My email just keeps delivering treats for the blog.

Long ago, during a weak moment (read: total brain lapse), I agreed to participate in a hip-hop dance class taught by Darrin Henson. (Darrin don't play. He choreographed the "Bye, Bye, Bye" dance for *NSYNC. Yes. I totally just stylized with an asterisk.)

Anyway, it was disastrous.

The workshop was put on by Jamme's Crunk Fitness. Let us now pause and pay homage to the greatest name of all time.

Jamme's. Crunk. Fitness.

Liberal use of the letter "m." Addition of the "e" to class it up a bit. And what's better than getting crunked and then heading straight for the Y? I. Know. Nothin'.

So. My point. Because of my attendance at this crunk fitness-sponsored event, I ended up on Jamme's e-mail list. Jamme's e-mails are real gems, and I've especially enjoyed her birth announcement and the family Christmas card. But this latest one? Well, just see for yourself.



My e-mail promises a "fun high-energy gospel hip-hop workout for all levels."

So go ahead. Get crunked, and then go get your praise on. Keep the body temple healthy. Or, God bless you, become an instructor. See you in chur—er—at the gym.

Mushy poetry

I just downloaded a new app on my phone.

Love Poems.

It's going to provide us with endless entertainment, friends. You're welcome.

Here's today's top poem, word for word, brought to us by vickyprettyprincess. (I put it in italics because it's a work of art.)

A friend is someone u can lean on.
A lover is someone u can depend on.
A friend tells u the difference between right and wrong.
A lover keeps u modest and strong.
A friend is there for u through thick and thin.
A lover encourage u to always win.
A friend is someone who would fight for u.
A lover is someone who would die for u.
But let me tell u this before I end, a lover always begin out being a friend.

1. I detest the word "lover."
2. "A lover always begin out being a friend."
3. "u"
4. "A lover encourage u to always win."

When you recite this to your lovah (*gag*), please be sure to give vickyprettyprincess proper credit. You know you couldn't write something like this by yourself.

Hmmm…word choice?

Even though technically "voluptuous" is used correctly in this e-mail ad I received from Sephora for Kim Kardashian's new perfume—which, btw, what?—it just sounds wrong.

And also stupid. Because, in my mind, I read "Kim Kardashian's new curvy, full-figured perfume."

Remind me again why I don't have a job? Thanks.

It's clear, too, why there never will be a StephInBham fragrance that captures the many facets of my personality. No way in the world pickle juice, Chick-fil-A, and a freshly mowed football field is a scent trilogy any woman wants to spritz behind her ears. Oh well, that dream's dead.

(I realize pickle juice, CFA, and football are things I love, not so much parts of my personality. Just go with it.)

National Signing Day!

A little something to tide hold me over till September 4.

I hope this present from my dishwasher isn't a sign.



Or these folks here (and one missing brother, who prefers I keep his "business" off the Internet) are going to be very disappointed, especially the middle two, who tend to get a little overly emotionally invested.


Okay, so maybe just me.

What? Everybody needs to be passionate about something. And I already have a few cold-weather game-day outfits planned.

I take it all back

I do love Valentine's Day. At least Valentine's Day 2010.

Because while all those other suckers are out spending $200 on three scallops and a teeny-tiny flourless heart-shaped chocolate tart, I'll be parked in front of my TV with a Lean Cuisine and some sugar-free chocolate pudding for this.

Amazing Race Season 16, baby! I started watching AR right about the time I moved to Birmingham. We've been through a lot together, and I'm so proud of AR's accomplishments—from nearly being canceled several times to winning all seven of the Primetime Emmys for Outstanding Reality-Competition Program since the category was created in 2003.

(I read somewhere that after the seventh Emmy win some media types—including Survivor host Jeff Probst—suggested AR remove itself from further consideration. Uh, sure. Sour grapes much?)

It is my life's dream to compete on this show before I die.

Life's. Dream.

It's probably going to take half my remaining life to find a partner who can put up with me.

I won't fare well on the nasty food challenges, but I can walk a bridge of 2 x 6s thousands of feet above a gorge and I have no problem jumping out of a 30-story tree house and flying down a cable at 70 m.p.h., so I feel like I'm a good bargain. (Please note Katie's comment on that post.)

I'm also going to get this and this for the cold cities, and I am totally wearing red and black the entire race. UGA! Represent!

(Oh yeah. I really did just type that.)

Who wouldn't want me as a teammate? Please.

And who doesn't have a mad, mad crush on Phil Keoghan?

This is just stupid.

Now, come on.

Gisele Bündchen can not seriously think anyone believes her, right? Right? I know lots and lots of women who have given birth, and one man too.

Just want to make sure y'all are alert this morning.

Someone did tell me once that giving birth was like a "really bad bowel movement," which is disgusting and, I theorize, a dirty rotten lie. Fairly certain this woman was smoking the crack. Probably during labor.

Anyway, out of all these mothers not even one has ever told me that giving birth—without much medication—wasn't painful. That is asinine.

Also what these women did not tell me? That every painful contraction just made them focus on how much closer the baby was. Unless it counts that most of them just wanted that baby OUT! so it would quit murdering their insides.

I can't really offer an argument based on personal experience (except for that friggin' never-ending kidney stone debacle) given that the Almighty has so wisely left me childless thus far, but I feel pretty safe betting that my friends will all agree with me here.

So shutty, Gisele.

Note: Nobody better expect me to be up washing dishes and making pancakes the day after a human comes out of me. Nah-uh. And I'm willing to bet fried batter covered in sugary syrup has never crossed that woman's lips.

Reader challenge

Can you come up with a lamer or more obnoxious commercial than this one? I have my doubts. This one kinda tops "Head-On! Apply directly to the forehead!" (Repeat 12 times.)



It's so tough to see Karen like this.

*Apologies for getting a crappier version of Gloria Estefan's crappy song stuck in your heads. Wasn't very nice of me.

My good fortune

Excellent. Dream? I'll be least expecting you in the next five to seven days. Don't leave me hanging.