5 Reasons I Like Castle

It’s been well-documented that an endorsement from me means imminent cancellation, so I hesitated to even post this.

Don’t believe me? Check here, and here, and even the comments here.

Anyway, I easily turned my attention from The Bachelor to Dancing with the Stars (how could I miss it -- I was almost Cloris Leachman for Halloween), but I had no plans to stick around for Castle. After all, a two-hour dancing fiesta is not generally the lead-in for a police procedural/mystery. Plus I told you I don’t like those. I’m just not into Bones, or Psych, or Monk, or CSI, or Dexter, or The Mentalist, or Numb3rs, or Fringe, or Lie to Me (oh my!) no matter how much buzz they get.

I like shows that are easy on my eyes AND my brain, and the fact is that dead bodies don’t make for fluffy entertainment.

But, I suppose there’s an exception to every rule because I was too lazy to change the channel, so I watched Castle, ABC’s newest drama that pairs an NYPD detective with a know-it-all mystery novelist. The twist is that the detective is a big fan of the guy’s books. And she’s all buttoned up, and he’s a playboy, blah blah blah (remind you at all of David Addison and Maddie Hayes?).

But here’s the real twist: I was actually entertained! And there’s a good chance I’ll tune in again next week (assuming it still exists). Here’s why:

1) Nathan Fillion, said novelist, was pretty charming as Rick Castle. He used to be on One Life to Live, I heard he was in Firefly, and he had a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it role on Desperate Housewives, but I remember him most from last year’s Dr. Horrible. And you know what? He’s pretty adorable.

2) The jury’s still out on his chemistry with Detective Kate Beckett, but that could easily be fixed with some makeup (she needs a day at the spa, or a roll in the hay -- or both). If that fails, a reassignment to Parsippany, NJ might be in order, to make room for a detective who doesn’t look like she shops in the men’s department at Kmart.

3) I am a writer at heart (or at least, I try to be), so the premise appeals to me -- a novelist who helps solve crimes by following the “story” instead of the facts. Call it Murder HE Wrote, or Angela MANsbury, I don’t care. It’s still a clever idea. And the poker buddy cameos with actual novelists James Patterson and Stephen J. Cannell were a nice touch. Would be great to see others like Patricia Cornwell, Sue Grafton, or Stephen King pop up too.

4) I’m pretty interested to learn more about the women in Castle’s life – his boozy horndog mother, his responsible teenage daughter, and his icy ex-wife (who also just happens to be his publisher).

5) It’s not REALLY about the dead bodies (although the copycat crimes staged from murder scenes in his books were pretty cool). It’s about the relationships between these characters, which is directly up my alley. And yes, I’m aware that the other shows I mentioned above have some relationship dynamic to them as well, but really, my DVR cannot handle any more commitments at this time. I've already diversified with Friday Night Lights. Don’t let me get sucked in to any more shows!

I’m definitely a little disappointed that they resolved the whole copycat thing in the 1st ep -- I was hoping they would follow a serial killer throughout the season. So, his excuse of wanting to stick around to shadow the Lady Detective for his next novel was kind of a lame way to keep the story going, but I’ll go with it.

Until my mush kicks in. And Castle gets cancelled.

Did anyone else get hooked?

Toilet Bowl Boyfriend

In keeping with the rules of Lent, I ordered up a plain cheese pizza tonight. About 15 minutes after I placed the order, my phone rang. Naturally, I assumed it was the lobby telling me the delivery guy was on his way up.

It wasn’t.

My mom was on the other end. She likes to check in to make sure I made it home safely. It’s cute, really. So we chit-chatted for a few minutes, and I think I successfully convinced her I would survive yet another day in the Big Bad City. Then, I happened to mention that I ordered a pizza. Plain cheese – just like Jesus likes it.

You’re familiar with the phrase, “no good deed goes unpunished,” yes? Well, the conversation went a little something like this:

MOM: Oh no…
ME: What?
MOM: It’s just…well, I just thought you were in for the night.
ME: I am in for the night. The pizza comes to me.
MOM: But you have to open the door.
ME: Yes, that’s generally how food gets inside.
MOM: But you don’t know who this guy is.
ME: Yes I do. He’s the pizza delivery guy.
MOM: But you don’t know what he’s up to.
ME: Delivering pizzas, I think.
MOM: He could take advantage of the situation.
ME: What situation?
MOM: That you’re ALONE.
ME: Huh?
MOM: You hear about it all the time on the news.
ME: Mmm-hmm…
MOM: Flush the toilet when the doorbell rings!
ME: Okay…
MOM: Then, turn on the shower. Are you writing this down?
ME: Uh-huh…
MOM: I’ll send you some of Dad’s pants. Underwear too.
ME: (silence)
MOM: You can keep them on the couch.
ME: Awesome.
MOM: That way, he’ll know you’re not alone.

So, let me get this straight: I need to invent a hungry slob of a boyfriend who orders dinner, then leaves his dirty clothes strewn all over the living room BEFORE taking a dump (and a shower!), just to trick a random delivery guy into believing I’m not alone.

Being single is SO complicated.

Bachelor Boo-Hoo

I’ll admit it: I watch The Bachelor. I’ve even been known to swoon as the Navy Officer/Brit/Actor/Doctor/Tire Heir/Football Player/Prince romances gullible women across the globe.

And I watch The Bachelorette (aka jilted Bachelor contestant who should be viewed as sympathetic, not slutty). I tune in week after week, as dumb-as-rocks guys take a number for a night with her, like they’re standing on line in a deli.

Yes, I’ve seen every single (and I do mean SINGLE – these things never work out) one. Well, all but the one with that fisherman guy Byron, who routinely gets all beat up by his Bachelor babe. That one was a snoozer. Now, I’m not saying I’m particularly proud of my near-perfect Bachelor/ette viewing record. But it is what it is.

So it should come as NO shock that I watched all 3 hours of bachelor-y goodness last night, and will watch another hour tonight. Honestly, I don’t think I blinked once. And how could I?

I love that Crazy DeAnna and her comb-over showed up in New Zealand. I love that Jason set his “America’s Sweetheart Single Dad” title on fire. I love that Mandy Moore lookalike Melissa called him a bastard on national TV. I love that Jason turned into the Waaaa-chelor as he broke down in sobs and proclaimed, “I hate myself for doing this!” I love that Doormat Molly practically leapt out of her polyester dress at the chance to be his #2 (Or is it #3 if you count DeAnna? Or #4 if you count his wife??). And I REALLY love Chris Harrison’s wide-eyed surprised bird face, when he knew how this would shake out all along.

THIS is why I watch the show -- for the drama! Sure, Jason is a TOTAL d-bag. Who cares? I’m not going to date him (too short). Some say it’s scripted. I say, so what?! If I want to watch average people leading ordinary lives, I’ll put a camera in my living room and watch myself eat a Lean Cuisine.

I think I’ll stick with the Bachelor. For once, Chris Harrison had it right. Because this was -- without a doubt -- the MOST shocking rose ceremony EVER (that is, if you didn’t read any of the internet rumors, which all predicted this would happen).

And now Brad “No Thanks” Womack is no longer the most hated Bachelor in the show’s history. A shocking twist, indeed!

Ooh That Smell

Work was crazy the whole month of February. So I was kind of in a news blackout. Well, I’m all caught up now, but I couldn’t let this story pass by without commenting. From the department of Old News, comes this gem…

Mayor Mike Bloomberg held a press conference to inform concerned New Yorkers that the maple syrup smell which has randomly flooded the air since 2005 can be attributed to…

New Jersey!

Ugh. How can this BE? I remember that smell! It was so strong. Like I was carrying pancakes in my purse. How on Earth could it have been coming from a totally different state? And New Jersey of all places! Like we need to add fuel to the Jersey Smells fire. This is serious. The time has come: We must stage an intervention. So here is my open letter to a state I love:

Dear Jersey,

You know the old saying, “It’s not you, it’s me”? Well, old friend, I have it on good authority that it is, in fact, YOU.

Shut down the factories. Roll up the windows on the Turnpike. Stand upwind during low tide. Generally just stop smelling. Please. Let somebody else be the Stinky State.

Signed,
A Congested Former Citizen

Fat Tuesday

I’m really not one to wear my religion on my sleeve (or, in the case of Ash Wednesday, my head).

But today, the night before Lent begins, some people wear colorful masks to a Mardi Gras bash, others booze it up at a parade. Or they earn their beads on Bourbon Street (of course, I’d never do that – the last thing I need is to get sued for putting an eye out). Or they feed their faces with free pancakes. Basically, it’s kind of like Last Call for all the bad stuff you want to do before it’s time to repent.

So, I ordered up a cheeseburger, o-rings, and milkshake for dinner. FAT Tuesday, indeed.

For any good Catholic, there are two basic principles to Lent: 1) sacrifice doing (or eating) something you really enjoy, and 2) don’t eat meat on Fridays. There are many other nuances, but those are the biggies, to me anyway.

While I KNOW I’m not supposed to eat meat on Fridays during Lent, somehow, I always do. I don’t mean to. But it sneaks in! We’ll go down to lunch at work and as luck would have it, it will be bacon smoothie day, or something equally ridiculous, and the day’s all shot to hell.

Who knew a corporate cafeteria could be so fraught with spiritual peril?

Although I’m not convinced that eating bacon is the worst thing I could do, I really hate to tempt fate. So, I’m going to try to be good. REALLY try. For the next 46 days (or 7 Fridays). And when I’m bad, I’ll update the comments below with the offending foodstuff.

Who knew being Catholic could be a spectator sport?

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Mr. Nice Guy

After sifting through thousands of duds, I finally met another guy, also from Match. Luckily, it was not a Columbo repeat performance.

He was 42 and a financial analyst. Got his MBA from NYU. No kids, no pets, never married. Lives on the UWS during the week and spends his weekends in NJ at a house he’s renovating. Physically, he was cute. Twelve year old boy kind of cute (I mean that in the most non-gross way possible). And at 5’9” he was MUCH shorter than I like, but really, what else is new? He probably wasn't thrilled with an amazon like me either.

He first emailed me about 3 months ago. Not a wink, an actual email. With words. I wrote him back because it was apparent he read my profile (mainly because he quoted it back to me), and his profile was thoughtful and sweet. But as the weeks ticked by, he never once asked for my number. Instead, he told me all kinds of stories. He was a regular Charles Dickens. This went on for SO long, I really just thought he wanted to be pen pals.

When Short Stuff finally summoned the courage to ask me on a D-A-T-E, he chose a Starbucks. In Grand Central. Ok, I guess. Though don’t guys ask girls out to dinner anymore? (Too big a commitment, I’m sure).

Anyway, during totally legitimate dinner-eating hours, we spent our time breezily chatting over coffee. Actually, it was hot cocoa for me, I hate coffee (oh RELAX, it’s not like I said I hate puppies).

In our time together, he did a fair amount of annoying name dropping (drives a Mercedes and an Audi, whipped out his platinum Amex for a $7 check, has a Sub-Zero fridge, blabety, blah, blah). I’m guessing that was just the nerves talking to show me that he’s taller when he stands on his money. Eh. About halfway through our coffee/cocoa liquid meal, he ordered up a rice krispie treat, which my stomach and I just assumed he planned to share. Nope. He picked up the whole marshmallow-y hunk and ate it like an apple.

Overall, though, I have to say this guy was actually pretty normal. He listened to me ramble on about nothing, asked questions that would seem to indicate he was interested in future ramblings, told totally regular stories about his family and growing up on Staten Island, had solid recall of our many, many, MANY email exchanges, and basically seemed like an all-around nice guy.

And you know what I realized?

I like jerks. It’s really as simple as that.

I think I've always known it. But UGH, I wish it wasn’t true! Blame it on some mutant relationship gene, I don’t know. But nice guys -- at least THIS nice guy -- was… boring. I wanted to like him. All 5’9” of him. Really, I did! But no. I guess it comes down to this: I need someone to keep me on my toes. And he was kind of like an open book. One that I’ve read before. And then returned to the library.

About a week later, we emailed. I was the first to put it out there -- we’re a bit lacking in the chemistry department. Still, he said he wants to be friends. And I think he actually means it.

Sigh.

Chowtastic Television

I’m competitive. I’m obsessed with TV. And I love to eat.

So you can imagine that televised cooking competitions are like a perfect storm of entertainment. The only thing that could make them better would be if the food literally popped out of my television screen and landed in my lap.

Until someone invents a TV you can taste, here’s my take on the 5 cooking shows that are currently heating up my DVR:

CHOPPED (Food Network)
Host: Ted Allen, best known for being the foodie on Queer Eye
Premise: Chefs compete in a dungeon to create meals from mystery ingredients
Catch phrase: “You’ve been chopped”
Pros: Seeing someone make a meal out of grapefruit, chunky peanut butter and ground beef
Cons: Pretty much everything else – this show isn’t good, even by my forgiving standards
Rating: 2 stars

HELL’S KITCHEN (FOX)
Host: Chef Gordon Ramsay, best known for calling contestants “donkeys”
Premise: Wannabe chefs compete to run a new celebrity restaurant
Catch phrase: “Hang up your chef’s coat,” which they do, on a meat hook
Pros: The theme song, Fire, is perfection
Cons: Does serving Jell-O at a nursing home really qualify you to run a restaurant?
Rating: 4 stars

MAN VS. FOOD (Travel Channel)
Host: Adam Richman, I really have no clue what he’s known for
Premise: The host takes on eating challenges across the country
Catch phrase: “In the battle of Man vs. Food, man (or food) wins”
Pros: Adam is loveable, and looks very cute in a football uniform
Cons: Watching him eat sick amounts of food is enough to make you… well, sick
Rating: 3 stars

THROWDOWN! WITH BOBBY FLAY (Food Network)
Host: Bobby Flay, best known for putting FN on the map (or was it the other way around?)
Premise: Flay challenges other cooks on their signature dishes
Catch phrase: I believe it's something about throwing down...
Pros: The Mission Impossible-style dossier he receives is funny (though not intentionally)
Cons: He always seems to lose!
Rating: 1 star

TOP CHEF (Bravo)
Host: Padma Lakshmi, best known for looking like she never eats
Premise: Actual chefs compete for some mediocre prizes
Catch phrase: “Please pack your knives and go”
Pros: I already told you this is the caviar of cooking shows. Plus, Fabio is still in it to win it.
Cons: It’s not on all year long
Rating: 5 stars

Now I’m hungry.

It’s too early to review, but I’m hoping that The Chopping Block, which premieres next month on NBC, lives up to the hype. It’s apparently hosted by a guy who made Gordon Ramsay cry. You can bet your soufflé I’ll tune in for that.

Any other cooking shows tempting your taste buds?

25 Random Things About Me

By now, I’m sure you’ve seen that note zipping around Facebook asking for 25 random things about yourself. I’ve decided to list mine here instead. If you read this blog, you probably know many of these things, but hopefully there’s a surprise or two in the mix…

1) I organize my refrigerator.

2) I don’t eat eggs under any circumstances. That means nothing scrambled, poached, fried, over easy, or hard boiled. I just say no to bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches and eggs benedict. No frittatas or quiches either – they are just fancy egg pies. No way, no how. No eggs. Ever.

3) I don’t drink coffee. Not for health reasons at all. Just don’t like it.

4) I have two recurring nightmares: 1) that I can’t graduate college because I skipped all my classes, and 2) that I’m giving a presentation and all my teeth start falling out of my head and bounce around on the table like Chiclets.

5) I watch more reality television than any professional, thinking, college graduate should. Or should admit to.

6) I have now started lying about my age when filling out surveys because I can’t accept that I’m no longer in the 18-34 bracket.

7) I wrote a book called “29” (truthfully, a 280-page manuscript that hopes one day to grow up to become a published novel), in real-time from my 29th birthday until the day I turned 30, and it’s now collecting dust in a drawer.

8) I started this blog to help me get back into the habit writing and get up the strength to rework my manuscript because all of my pop culture references are now hopelessly out of date and I’m now closer to 40 than I am to 30. (And typing that just made me throw up a little in my mouth.)

9) I have less teeth in my mouth than the average adult. As a kid, my dentist used to pull them 2 and 3 at a time (mostly baby teeth, I don't look like a jack-o-lantern) to make more room because I have a tiny jaw and big horse teeth. And then he would put them on a string and make me wear them home like a necklace. Sick dude, huh?

10) I was bitten by a dog when I was 7 and chased by a dog when I was 9, so I’m not really a pet person. But if I had to choose, I prefer dogs over cats, hands down. Go figure.

11) I was a cheerleader in college, but don’t get too excited – it was only one year and it was for basketball.

12) I also hosted a radio show with my college roommate. That was more legit – for 3 years. We’d play our own CDs and read issues of Glamour on-air. I even think we had a few listeners.

13) I was responsible for reading Danielle Steel’s fan mail in my first publishing job. You’d be surprised how many prisoners write to her.

14) I read about 2 books per week when I worked in book publishing. In the 9 years since I left that industry, I feel like I read two books a year. And I feel kind of guilty about it.

15) I like my entertainment good and fluffy. Tear-jerkers, talking heads, sci-fi, and police procedurals need not apply.

16) I don’t rent DVDs -- I buy every movie I want to see because I don’t like the fingerprints and scratch marks on rentals.

17) I organize the money in my wallet, with the bills all facing the same direction in denominational order. Anything less is just chaos.

18) I have a state quarter book. And I love it. It’s taken 10 years to fill, and I am still looking for an Arizona to complete my collection.

19) I always wear socks to bed, even in the summer.

20) I am afraid of the dark – I sleep with a light and the television on all night.

21) I’m a chronic snoozer, sometimes I’ll hit it for an entire hour instead of just sleeping longer.

22) I hate talking on the phone. There’s only 3 people in my life that I actually enjoy calling. I’m not telling who they are, but one of them definitely reads this blog, one might read this blog, and one doesn’t even know what a blog is.

23) I once went to American Idol tryouts at Giants Stadium with the Travelocity Roaming Gnome. It was for work – seriously. He really wanted to belt out Celine Dion’s, “My Heart Will Go On.”

24) I don’t like strangers, which makes online dating a particular challenge.

25) I still believe there’s a guy out there somewhere who will adore me because of -- not in spite of -- my (many, MANY) quirks.

BONUS:
26) My first concert was Rick Springfield when I was 10.

See anything I missed?

A Shameless Plug

Confession time: I’ve never loved Valentine’s Day.

Actually, I don’t think VDay loves me. I mean, what else could possibly explain the box of conversation hearts I picked up last week at CVS? It was not filled with sweet nothings like “Kiss Me” or “Cutie Pie,” but rather, MY box had an inordinate amount of sugar hearts emblazoned with the words “Let’s Read” and “Book Club” in bright pink ink.

Was it a subliminal message from Cupid? Did I accidentally pick up the diabetic librarian snack pack? Maybe it's a sugary lesson in abstinence? I don’t know.

What I DO know is it’s pretty ironic that for the past 3 years at work, on Valentine’s Day, I’ve thrown 14 weddings at the Empire State Building. This is me! The girl who has never, ever been married. And who can count on her thumbs the number of times she’s even been dating someone special on this most auspicious holiday (and honestly, one of those may not even count – he got me a Whatchamacallit, which I do love, but still, an obscure 75 cent candy bar does not a proper VDay gift make).

Anyway, even factoring in the one couple who invariably gets cold feet every year, that still means that I’m responsible for 39 marriages. Yes, somehow, this single gal actually pulls it off! Luckily, what I lack in personal experience, I make up for in Type A organizational skills.

So, here comes my shameless plug…

In this time of fiscal frugality, just skip the overpriced roses, chocolates, and dinners this Saturday, and enjoy a free Sleepless in Seattle-style moment by tuning in for a few live-streaming weddings. It's an exciting marathon day of "I Do's" that starts before dawn and ends after dusk. What could be more romantic?

While I have a soft side that really enjoys helping to make this amazing opportunity possible for deserving couples across the country, the part of VDay I most look forward to happens later in the evening.

You too?

Well, I suspect my night ends a little bit differently than yours. When I get home I’ll take a hot shower (NOT a bath, it’s totally gross to marinate in your own dirty water), put on some comfy PJs and fuzzy socks, and then I’ll pass out in my fluffy bed, exhausted and enjoying the fact that I’m not being bothered by a fine fellow looking to redeem a “love coupon.”

Oh, did I forget to mention that my Whatchamacallit was accompanied by a homemade coupon for a foot rub? Yeah. No wonder we broke up.

So, won't you be my Valentine this Saturday?

Oh Baby

Wow. I now know TEN women who are having babies between April and August.

-- My sister-in-law
-- My roommate from college
-- My roommate from college’s sister-in-law
-- 2 other friends from college
-- 3 friends at my current job
-- 2 friends from former jobs

Um, what the hell happened last year? Was there a blackout? Nothing good on TV? Has news of the recession become the ultimate aphrodisiac? Ooh, unemployment is soooo HOT!

I don’t know, but I really hate to be left out of a trend, so I’m here to announce I have some happy news: I’m pregnant too!

(Try not to hit your head when you pass out from shock.)

Yes, I expect to give birth to Pringle in the fall. I think I’ll name him “Salty.”

Ok, I’m kidding. But seriously, congrats to all the moms and dads-to-be! And congrats to me, I’m going to officially be an aunt to a beautiful baby girl called Grace. I can’t wait to meet her in late May or early June (arrival time will be directly correlated to whether she takes after her mom or her dad). Suffice it to say, she will be quite spoiled in the best possible way.

Much love to you all, always.