Friend, I can't decide if sex addicts are real.

Dr. Phil's show is a great conversation starter

Joshua: I like weed, but I don't think I think about it eighty-five percent of the day...hell, not even fifte percent of the day. Or five. I just can't think of anything in my life that just consumes the majority of my thoughts.

Me: No. There's other stuff. . .

Joshua: I got stuff to see.

Me: There's a whole big, wide world out there.

Joshua: And if you close your eyes...and do nothin' but fuck, you gonna miss it. It's just gonna pass you by. . .

Doh!erty

Casey: (singing the Education Connection jingle)

Julia: Do the Education Connection ads with Shannen Doherty make you guys a little sad?

Casey: Yeah, kind of.

Shawn: Nah, I think they're fine.

Bangin'

Casey: ...then he said, "I'll see what I can do."

Dan: Were you finger bangin'?

Casey: No, Dan! But, I did finger bang his butthole.

Dan: Oh, really?

Casey: Yeah, but like...I was still in my office and he was in his.

Dan: Wow.

Casey: Yeah, my fingers can apparate and disapparate but only from my hand into other people's asses.

Dan: You know...they say that, after a couple years in a relationship, there are no surprises...

**Note: I had already used the term "finger bangin'" earlier that afternoon. In no way is Mr. Granata this crass. (Dan, do you think they bought my disclaimer?)

Sorry, I was in her fan club.

Heather: Did you know Paula is in the hospital?

Casey: No!

Heather: Sorry. Wrong chat.

Casey: Oh! I thought you meant Paula Abdul.

Heather: No. Coworker.


I hope both Paulas are okay.

Automatically not people

Look. They're "bear-shaped" blobs. 

Holding a gummy bear.

Casey: Can we be honest with ourselves? These don't look like bears.

John: Well what do they look like?

Casey: Not bears. Examine this.

Handing a gummy to John.

John: This is totally a bear.

Casey: Nah.

Rawson enters.

Rawson: What's going on?

John: Casey doesn't think these look like bears.

Casey: They don't!

Rawson: Let me see.

Casey: Look, they're kissing.

John: How can they kiss if they're not bears?

Casey: What?!

John: You said they weren't bears. How are they kissing.

Casey: You don't have to be a bear to kiss. I've kissed and I'm not a bear.

John: So are they people?

Casey: No!

John: What else can kiss?

Rawson: Anything with lips.

Casey: Just because I said they aren't bears doesn't mean they're automatically people.

John: This is why I won't listen to any of your arguments because they make no logical sense.

Casey: I'm leaving. It's rude in here.

Grandmother knows best.

From last night. Please read all of this with a southern accent.


Memaw: I went to the movies the other night.

Casey: Yeah? What'd you see?

Memaw: I saw Meryl Streep's new movie.

Casey: Oh, how was it?

Memaw: It was...okay.

Casey: Not that great?

Memaw: Well, I think it embarrassed Peggy.

Casey: Why?

Memaw: It's about this couple and they're trying to work on their marriage.

Casey: Okay...so...

Memaw: In the bedroom.

Casey: It was sexual? Is that what you're telling me?

Memaw: (giggling) Well...it wasn't normal sexual. There was...a bit more spice to it.

Casey: Well, okay. I see.

Memaw: But, yeah, it was good. Tommy Lee Jones is in it and he is looking old!

Casey: He looks old? He's always looked old.

Memaw: Well he has, but I don't know if it was all the close up shots of his face or what, but he had more wrinkles than I've got. He must have lost weight or something.

Casey: You think?

Memaw: Well when people lose a lot of weight, they can look older. Your skin sags. Of course, your skin sags just from getting older, too. You start to look crunchy.

Casey: Crunchy?!

Memaw: Yeah, that's what's wrong with me. I'm getting crunchy. Well, I'll let you get back to your dinner. I just wanted to talk to you.

Emily's wedding. Best bridesmaid and best (bossiest) florist/wedding coordinator she's ever known.

This office smells

Rawson: Smells like tea.

Nicole: What?

Rawson: What is that?

Nicole: Tea.


Five minutes later.


Rawson: Smells like burp. Did you just burp?

A blast from our past

Because the Olympics happened so long ago. I can't wait for the "Where are they now?" segment that will probably air on Today tomorrow morning. Thanks, NBC News.

Dancing Days Are Here Again

It's funny how, prior to my vacation, if I saw one more invite to a show or a birthday party or any sort of event pop up, I was ready to say "Fuck this noise!" and bail on the invitation.

Now that I'm back, I am not doing anything. Seriously, nothing.

I need to be doing things but the idea of doing them makes me...cringe? Vomit? Cry? All of the above. It's not that I don't like people's birthdays or shows or any of that other joyful stuff that takes place when you're friends with people and you like to support them, it's just that...guys, I think I'm old.

I know it didn't happen overnight, but it most certainly feels as if it did. I can convince myself on any good day that I am going to get the following done:

*go for a run
*feed the cat
*healthy breakfast at home
*get ready for work (and look smashing, by the way)
*go to work from 9am until 5pm and, there, I will do brilliant things
*have dinner with a friend or catch a show or both
*come home and start some laundry
*write for at least two hours
*chill out with a good book and a glass of wine
*in bed by 12
*awake with the energy to do it all over again tomorrow

Do you know how many of those things actually take place on a daily basis? 4.5...because I'm rarely brilliant at work.

I convinced myself that I would have the summer to work on all of the home projects I neglected while I was prepping for fringe, rehearsing and performing, and moving, and piecing together more travel itineraries than I care to count. This summer, I have failed.

However, what I now lack in all of those new home projects, I've made up for with exhaustion, drunken nights with the boy, writing meetings, and good times.

But, boy, am I tired. You see, I can't even remember when I started writing this in the first place. Why is it called Dancing Days Are Here Again? I mean, other than the whole Led Zeppelin being awesome thing, why?

Basically what I'm trying to say is it is Sunday afternoon. 3pm, to be exact. I've been in bed this whole time. Literally all day. Since last night at about midnight. And a part of me feels extremely guilty. Another part of me says, "Fuck off, guilt" and pours another bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios- a new love in my life.


**Six and a half hours after posting this I realize that the reason I titled this 'Dancing Days...' is because my dance card is full I guess. Basically, I'm an unintentional genius. 

Protect your daughters! Give them braces.

This Invisalign Teen commercial is really gnawing on my nerves. The premise is simple and, according to some ad exec, harmless, possibly even adorable. You have two sisters-twins as a matter of fact-one has braces, the other wears Invisalign.


 First of all, how horrendous. What parents would go so far as to favor one twin over the other by paying an extra $20,000 so the chosen one won't be called "Brace Face" by all her peers? I'm no parent, but I say, "Invisalign for all or for none at all." It's only fair.


Secondly, thank you advertising for teaching our young people, once again, that pretty always wins over personality. As if you can't tell by the photo posted above, the twin who is forced to wear braces, headgear, and abstain from eating popcorn (The Triple Whammy of Sadness, as I like to call it) is, naturally, the one whose hair is separated down the middle and styled in two, low-hanging pigtails. An obvious sign of an inferiority complex for young girls. Thank you, America. And can we talk about the fact that her sister,the twin with the confidence to style her hair in a long, flowing fashion, is documenting the nightly donning of the humiliating headgear as if it were some sort of ceremony? So, if I fork over thousands of dollars for Invisalign, my kid can be an asshole? Is that what you're telling me?


 As a child who was cursed with, for lack of a better term, an almost irreversibly fucked up mouth of teeth, I found this ad incredibly offensive. As an adult woman who still sports the pigtail every now and then, I was appalled. Invisalign encourages parents to buy their product so that their children may exude confidence while going through one of the most uncomfortable, painful, and sometimes disgusting stages of many an adolescence- teeth straightening. As a still-undecided-but-it-isn't-completely-off-the-table future mother of America, this ad solidified for me how I will not raise my possible future daughter and the decision is already set-if she has crooked teeth, she's getting braces. Real ones.


 I think our daughters should be taught confidence, not based on their looks, but on just about everything else. The Invisalign-wearing teen represented in the commercial knows no humility, no kindness toward her twin and, let's face it, is probably one year away from becoming the high school's most popular whore. If I ever have a daughter, I want her in pigtails and braces until she finishes grad school. I want her to care about others, to exude kindness and, when that kindness doesn't work, I want her to sass and kick the hell out of some overly confident teen bitch with a video camera, even if it is her sister. (Though, it won't be. Seriously, no hot bitches living under my roof.) I want her to wear her "dorky" hair and embrace her flaws with so much pride that is scares and intimidates everyone she meets. I want her to be her and real, and I want her to relish life's simply joys- like popcorn for instance. I want her to know that, if careful, that salty snack absolutely can be enjoyed by a kid with braces. Just brush and floss properly afterward.


And always brush your tongue. That's important.