You've got bad bells, Phil.

Last night Phil Donahue tried to teach me to play the bells. They wouldn't ring. I think I was holding them wrong.

P.S. I've started taking OTC sleeping pills in an attempt to fall back asleep after (or, if I'm very lucky, not be woken up at all by) my inconsiderate and very loud upstairs neighbors who stay up until 4:00 a.m. every night. No, they don't have jobs. The lovely Tylenol sleep aid could enhance or construe my celebrity dreams, or bring about a whole new dream theme. Stress = celebrities, sleeping pills = odder celebrities than usual/something else altogether? I've never dreamed of Phil Donahue before. I will likely be using these pills until my neighbors' lease is up at the end of April. (Please cross your fingers for me that the landlord does not renew their lease.) So, whether or not next month's blog is a "theme month," I will inform you of any sleeping-pill induced celebrity dreams. Don't worry.

Thanks but no thanks, Jerry.

I was walking through New York City one afternoon when Jerry Seinfeld pulled over to see if I wanted a ride. He was driving a semitrailer. I said no thanks. He said he understood.

Fa IS a long, long way to run

Last night I was governess to the Von Trapp children, the movie children of course. We went fishing, then had a picnic of our fish, which tasted really, really bad. I was hoping we'd sing a song about bad-tasting fish, but we did not. I must not have taught them to sing yet.

And no Captain Von Trapp, movie or otherwise.
I love Christopher Plummer.

No John Tesh, I will not play in your band.

I promised to make March's blog entries a theme month as well, and have now gone halfway through the month without posting anything. I'd say I am ashamed, but I'd be lying. I was just lazy. But I'll keep you in suspense no longer.

When I am stressed, I have dreams about celebritities. I saw a lot of Al Gore in college. With my publishing company recently closing, some friends and I assumed this would be prime time for celebrity dreams. Fortunately (though unfortunately for this blog), I haven't been as stressed out as I assumed I would be. Since February 15 I've had celebrity dreams only of Jim Carrey being a member of my youth group and of John Tesh asking me to be in his band. But don't worry, I will post about other celebrity dreams I've had that I remember, and will likely never forget.

By the way, when John Tesh asked me to join his band, I told him no, because he pronounced "diabetes" as "diabeetus." I think it's a valid reason. The first, thus correct, pronunciation of "diabetes" given in Webster's is "dye-a-beet-eez" (though using other pronunciation guide symbols of course). And while we're on the subject, "syrup" is correctly pronounces as "sir up" and "caramel" as "car mell." I hope I don't have to correct Al Gore.

Love Letter #8

Dear B-Mets "Name That Bobblehead" promotion,

Give a raise to whoever came up with you. I'm very happy that Richard "Captain America" Tylicki is an option. Robert Ford should also be on the list. Maybe next year. But really, it doesn't matter, because I will be voting for Stacy Wickham. As will everyone who reads this blog entry. See below.


Dear everyone reading this blog entry,

Go here. Scroll down to the voting apparatus on the left. In the "Other" option, write in "Stacy Wickham." Do this multiple times a day. If one of the mascots win I will boo loudly. Then mascots public shame will be on your heads.

P.S. Don't vote for the mascots just because you want me to boo them. There will be other opportunities.

Love Letter #7

Dear Annie's Bunny Grahams,
No offense to Teddy, but you are way better. And because you are organic, natural, and believe in community and sustainability I get to pat myself on the back while overindulging on your tasty snacks. I guess I should maybe pat you on the back too, for your good ethics, but mostly for your good grahams. Chocolate is my favorite.

Love,
Tara

P.S. Your macaroni and cheese is super too.

Love Letter #6

Dear faith,

Relying on you sometimes sucks, and sometimes doesn't. I'm daily residing at both extremes. But thank you for being an option for me. I couldn't do it without you.

Love,
Tara

Love Letter #5

Dear little clothes dryer that fits in our bedroom,

You are useful, warm, and soothing. You not only warm up my bedroom for me when it's frickin' freezing, you help cover up the noise coming from the aforementioned upstairs neighbors with your lilting hum. And on top of all of this, you dry my clothes! Thank you for all the purposes you serve in my life. I love you.

(Little washing machine in the kitchen, you're not so bad either.)
(Earth: I still air dry some clothes. When my upstairs neighbors move out, I'll use the dryer much less.)

Love Letter #4

Dear authors who don't use an ampersand for "and,"

You are practical and sensible and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Ampersands may have their place in APA references and proper titles, but that's it. You, like me, realize the asininity of pressing "shift" "7" instead of typing three letters that can be easily typed without having to move your hands from the designated typing position. You do not waste my time by making me change all of your annoying and purposeless "&" to "and." You probably never realized how much this means to me. It's the little things.

Love,
Tara

Love Letter #3

Dear sleep,

I know I sometimes spurn your advances. I'm sorry. And now my loud-video-game-playing upstairs neighbors who like to yell the f-word and smoke pot are trying to keep us apart. But you are stronger than some dumb video game. You are stronger than an overused cuss word. You are more legal than pot.Don't give up on me. I promise I'll never abuse you again.

Love,
Tara

Love Letter #2

Dear camera on my cell phone,

Babies love you and so do I. Without you I could have never documented television station FSN-SW calling Antoine Vermette "Andrew" Vermette, messages on cabin walls that are marked as untrue, Jim Halpert's face when he saw Dwight and Angela making out, Joey Ice Cream (to show Pastor Rob whose picture pops up when he calls me), impressive Wegman's grocery packing, the boy with the unibrow who graduated with Jean Wickham, Mike's New Year's Eve instant message conversation, big hair, disproportionate Jesus hands, guy love when it occurs, and sightings of Topher Grace, Adam Levine, and Peter Quinn. Thank you, cell phone camera, for making my life better.

Love,

Tara

Love Letter #1

Dear Pizza,

You are the best.

Love,
Tara

February

It's February again. Time for love letters. Lucky you, two theme months in a row! I can't promise no repeats from last February's letters, but I'll do my best to love more things.

Dating Tip: Don't Date This Guy Because I Want To

It is the last day of January. This will be my last Dating Tip. I've most definitely saved the best for last.

Michael David Monn of Marysville, Tennessee, turned 23 in July of 2004. On his birthday he decided to wear his birthday suit and go get some nacho cheese. He scaled an eight-foot fence and broke into the snack bar at a local pool. With some Fritos and a can of nacho cheese in hand, naked Michael hopped the fence again and headed back to his Jeep. While in the snack bar he likely stuck his head right into a can o' cheese, because when police found the birthday boy he had cheese on his hair, face, and shoulders. Naked, covered in cheese, and drunk is perhaps how I'll spend my next birthday, just not in public.

So, you can try dating him, but you're going to have to fight me for him.

Dating Tip: Don't Date Naked People

This post is a collection of multiple stories, a cornucopia of naked arrests if you will. You're welcome.

Stephen Gough of Eastleigh, Hampshire, England, is determined to walk the length of Britain...naked. No matter how many times he gets arrested. Although the gypsy life may sound appealing, it's sometimes cold in England. Protect your wobbly bits and not date Stephen.

John S. Leonard III of Dallas, Texas, followed through on a plan we've all dreamed of: he stole a church van...naked. Police got a call at 2:00 a.m. about a suspicious vehicle parked in a local business parking lot (which may or may not have been down by the river). When police arrived, John took off. Cops believed he was clothed at this time, but 35 miles later, when John finally pulled over, he was not. Well, his shirt was on his head if that counts. Luckily, no one was hurt, and the church that owned the van is praying for him. Do pray for John, but maybe don't date him.

An unidentified 20-year-old man thought an Ohio rest area would be a good place to sunbathe...naked. Along busy I-90 in Conneaut, Ohio, rest area visitors complained to staff about a naked man who kept popping up and down in an adjoinig field. Staff called police. Police arrived and verified that the popping-up-and-down man was naked. The man said he didn't know people could see him. Although I unfortunately can't give you his name (because it wasn't in the article), avoid dating men whose invisibility cloaks are malfunctioning. I hope he used sunscreen.

Crackhead Larry Boyd and his lady friend stayed at the motel next to the Waffle House in Nashville, Tennessee. They got into a fight, and the lady friend fled to the Waffle House...naked. Larry followed...naked. She locked herself in the WH bathroom, and he fled in a car...naked. Police chased him. The naked lady said Larry took a hit of cocaine and started choking her. He got a few tickets. Avoid Larry.

Carlos Singleton of Jackson, Mississippi, loves the nightlife. Likely rocking out in his SUV to some house techno, Carlos didn't realize he'd hit two cars in the nightclub parking lot as he was leaving. However, others did realize that Carlos hit two cars, and they called the police. When he saw the fuzz on his tail, Carlos took off....naked. When Carlos eventually crashed into the third car, police were surprised to find him naked. As was bystander James Ford, who said, "When they pulled him, out he was butt naked." Oh eggcorns. Don't get in the car with Carlos.

Dating Tip: Don't Date Women Who Don't Check the Number Before Texting

In Salt Lake City, Utah, last week Detective Dan Wendelboth received a text message: "I have 10 Lortab 7.5." Finding it understandably amusing that he was being asked if he'd like to illegaly purchase a prescription painkiller, he responded, "How much?"
"$50."
"Where and when?"
"Wal-Mart parking lot 4700 south and 900 east at 8."
"K. C U then.

At Wal-Mart at 8:00, three woman arrived, one with the Lortab pills, one (not a doctor) with a prescription pad, and one along for the ride. A two-year-old child also came along for the ride, perhaps to learn the family business. (The child is currently in protective custody.) The women were not pleased. The first two were arrested, and the third was released.

Detective Wendelboth summed up the situation eloquently, saying the ladies "weren't real happy, but sometimes we only catch the dumb ones."

Dating Tip: Don't Date Men Who Don't Keep to the Right

On Saturday, January 26, Frank Kozumplik ran out of wine. Mr. Kozumplik, 49, of Adrian, Michigan, had let his wife take their car to work. Wineless and carless, Frank decided to remedy the first condition. After dropping two empty wine bottles (that were full earlier that evening) into the recycling bin, Frank hopped on his John Deere riding mower and drove two miles down the road to the liquor store, where he bought four bottles of wine.

With the paper bag o' wine secured snugly on his lap, Mr. Kozumplik began his return journey, down the middle of the road, in a snowstorm. He would have made it too if it weren't for those darn cops. Finding the situation a bit odd, local police pulled the man and mower over, and found that his blood alcohol level was 2 1/2 times the legal limit. They traded him a drunk-driving ticket for the wine, and they took his mower.

If he would have stayed on his side of the road he would have been fine.

Dating Tip: Don't Date People Who Drunk Dial

At 12:29 a.m. on Sunday, January 27, Dodge County, Wisconsin, 911 dispatchers received a call.

"I'd like to report a drunk driver. She's in a tan, 2002 pickup truck with an 'I heart cheese' bumper sticker. Also, there's two empty Snapple bottles on the backseat and 'You Give Love a Bad Name' is playing on the radio."

Then the caller hung up.
So they *69ed her.

"Hello, this is Patricia Dykstra, how may I help you?"
"This is Dodge County 911; you just called about a drunk driver."
"Oh yeah, my boyfriend told me to do it. He thinks I'm too drunk to drive home, but he's the one who's wasted."
"Are you drunk, ma'am?"
"Don't think so."
"Where are you now?"
"I'm heading north on Yew Road."
"Ooh, watch out, that road has a lot of potholes."
"Yeah, I'm swerving around 'em. You know, I really don't feel safe driving and talking on the phone."
"Okay, Pat, you drive safe now. Call anytime."

Ms. Dykstra, 51, and her boyfriend arrived home safely. They chatted with the police officers who were there to greet them, explaining that he had drank a twelve-pack, and that she had drank only a six-pack, so the smart choice was for her to drive. The cops told them to have a nice night, and gave Patricia a drunk-driving ticket.


This tip could also be titled "Don't Date 911 Dispatchers Who Don't Tell Drunk Drivers to Pull Over and Continue to Talk to the Drunk Driver on the Phone While the Drunk Driver Drives.

Dating Tip: Don't Date Guys Who Keep Their Marijuana in a Shopping Bag

On Thursday, January 24, babysitter extraordinaire Eduardo Nunez was pulled over for driving 110 mph in a 65 mph zone (also for going 97 in a 55). Nunez, a 26-year-old Bronx native, sped north on I-81 in an attempt to escape the pursuing Broome County sheriff's deputies. Silly Eddie, you know trying to outrun the cops is a bad idea. Why did you do it?

Oh wait, I know.

(1) A 3-year-old was asleep in the backseat without a seat belt on and without sitting in the required safety seat.
(2) Two 15-year-olds were smoking pot in the car.
(3) He had four pounds of marijuana sitting in a shopping bag in the car. (I hope it was a Dollar Store bag.)

Don't date Eduardo. I question his decision-making abilities.

Dating Tip: Don't Date Cops

Or at least not these two (sorry Stacy).

On Sunday in Berlin, Germany, two police officers engaged in a high-speed chase in an attempt to apprehend a speeding car. The speeder, understandably unnerved, crashed into another vehicle. The occupants of the speeding/now-crashed car fled the vehicle. The police officers jumped out of their car and pursued the offenders on foot.

However, they left the keys in the car. They soon saw their own vehicle, worth about $150,000, with them not in it, drive by.

The forgetfulness might be cute at first, especially because they wear uniforms, but it would get old after the fourth or fifth time coming home to an empty apartment because your significant other left the keys in the door.

Remember this story in case anyone remakes Keystone Kops.