A super cute (and short!) essay from Skirt!:

“I never took our dog for the cheating kind. After all, he’s a Labrador retriever—the model of canine loyalty. And if I do say so, he’s a mighty fine example of the breed. He comes when called, sits on command and fetches anything you could ask for, including the morning paper and cans of dog food. With a broad blocky head, he looks like we ordered him straight out an L.L. Bean catalogue. In reality it was the newspaper. We brought our handsome ball of fur home during our first year of marriage and he quickly became our “child.” But three years later, when we moved to a sleepy mountain town—where the streets are like sidewalks and the dogs roam free—our dog began leading a double life.”

Continue reading here. You’ll feel all warm and fuzzy after.

The offender: Lady Gaga

The item(s) in question: Everything she’s ever worn, AND this number from the 2010 Grammy Awards.

My thoughts: That Lady Gaga is one hot mess, isn’t she? Perhaps I lack the intellectual ability to understand her “artistic expressions” in fashion, but to me, she always looks like she either, a) just stepped out of a horror film, or b) just stepped out of a deranged episode of The Jetsons.

The solution: Therapy. It’s pretty apparent she hates her parents. That said, keep on making those catchy little tunes, Ms. Gaga. I like the music, I just loathe the “Look at me, I’m so different and unique!” clothing choices.

I’ve given you my thoughts on going to the grocery store. I’d like to add another reason I despise going: Because no matter what I look like – even if I have on sweatpants from 1999, am not wearing a stitch of makeup and have dirty hair – someone will try to “holla” at me. And, it’s not just me (I’m not all that, by any means). I’ve discussed this with several girlfriends who have the same problem. No matter what you look like, there’s always a creeper in the grocery store who will think you’re cute. Sometimes it’s a self-esteem booster, but mostly it is just annoying.

Seriously people, up your standards.

Yesterday on Today, I saw Gayle Haggard promoting her book, “Why I Stayed: The Choices I Made In My Darkest Hour.” So, why did she stay? According to Mrs. Haggard, her husband is now cured of his “gay urges” thanks to intensive therapy.

I don’t know how to tell her this, but if her husband was having sexual relations with another man, it was more than a homosexual “urge.”

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved books. My brother is the same way. We get it honest, from my mom’s mom, who was always reading something. I never saw her not have a book with her, and sometimes she’d have two. She read all types of books, but she loved a romance novel (which, honestly, freaks me out to think about now), and I always liked it when she’d let me pull out her book to see what the man and woman on the front cover looked like.

Over the past year, however, the time that I’ve allowed for reading has dwindled. I think it’s that darn reality television obsession of mine, but things are about to change. Last week, I was invited to join a book club, and I’m really psyched about it. This will definitely help me keep one of my resolutions (now, if only someone would pay for me to have a personal trainer…), and it will add another item to my social calendar. A win-win, if you will.

Monday night, I ventured to Barnes & Noble to get the first book on our list, and it reminded me how much I miss reading. I remember living in Charleston and going to B&N for hours to select my next read, or to flip through travel guides to plan my trip to Italy (which I still haven’t taken, but I know exactly what I want to see when I do, thankyouverymuch). And, when I lived in Columbia, I walked to the public library from my apartment and checked out book after book, even learning how to put a “hold” on the next book I wanted (via their website) so that it would be ready for me when I arrived.

Sitting in the bookstore the other night left me wondering what has happened to my love of the written word? Why have I strayed? Is my life busier now, or am I just lazy? I think it could be a little of both.

This weekend, a friend of mine told me she had cut out some of her television time to make more time for reading. So, friends, I believe it’s time I follow her lead and say goodbye to some of my tv obsessions (um, not The Rachel Zoe Project, don’t get all crazy on me now) and say hello to new authors.

If there’s a book I must read, comment it, or email me: thetightropeblog@gmail.com.
Hate mail accepted, but not appreciated.

Text message from a friend, regarding an anonymous comment on this blog:
May I say…Anon#1 is a total doctor of douche. What a fool. Love you girl. I bet that person totally thinks real life is like a stupid romantic comedy. Um, reality called…this is not Sleepless in Seattle. Step away from your ball-less anonymous status and show your face. Who do you think you are, the f-ing Wizard of Oz? Grow a set and say what you need to say face-to-face, b*tch. And, p.s. – I bet you take your fashion advice from Tyra Banks.

Text message to Cecilia on 1/18 at 6:24pm:
[Explicative]. My ex is going to the same wedding I am this weekend, with a girl who looks like a model. I need a shot. I’m in the tanning bed right now.

Text message to Cecilia on 1/24 at 12:25pm:
I survived the wedding, and I looked h-o-t. Think I broke my tail snap.

Blackberry messaging with Ben, regarding photos that were tagged of us on Facebook:
Ben: We look terrible in those photos. A couple of the ones of you are good. Mine are all bad.
Me: I mean, if I were you I would de-tag. I say that with love.

Email from Anna Beth, in response to me asking her what she would like for breakfast while staying the weekend with me:
I require coffee…that’s about it. I typically use Splenda and skim milk but I can be flexible on those two things as long as there’s coffee. For breakfast, I usually eat an egg, a piece of wheat toast and an apple but I can be flexible with that too…as long as there’s coffee. Don’t buy anything special for me to eat…I can eat anything, really…as long as there’s coffee. I am so excited!
(Do you think the girl needs her coffee, or is it optional?)

Remember this post? Here’s the next edition:

• Blank could use a hug. And a little more than a hug…
• Blank wants you to know that he cheated on me with an ugly girl. I’M MOVING ON!!!
• Blank had too much to eat for lunch and now my stomach has me in and out of the bathroom. Hate it for the other people who work here. lol.
• Blank just saw a FINE girl walk by. Would holla at her but I’m married. Damn.
• Blank TGIF. Can’t wait until tonight! My hubby and a bubblebath!
• Blank is tired of changing diapers. When is potty training?

Some days I just don’t feel particularly bloggy. Today is one of them, so I present the following things to distract you from whatever you were doing when you wandered over here (Thanks, by the way!):

• Cats, with stuff on them. Makes me laugh.
• Not to be outdone by sister-in-law Stephanie, Heidi Montag Pratt had some surgery. If you haven’t seen the before and after until now, you are welcome.
• Everybody has a secret. These people post their secrets/confessions anonymously via the net.
• Other people do have moms like mine.

I met my friend Kristin for coffee today, and the thing our conversation turned to warranted a Sunday post. She told me a story about a friend of hers (let’s call her Amy, shall we?), who went to lunch with this guy who was in his mid-thirties. Amy, who is 26, told Kristin that during the lunch, the guy told her that he had just started dating someone. When Amy inquired about the new woman in his life, he told her that his new girlfriend was 23. Then he casually added, “No offense, but I really don’t date anyone your age because they are like a ticking time bomb. All they want to do is get married and have kids.”

This was very similar to something my ex said to me a few months ago, when he had recently gone out on a date with someone who was 23. He said, “I know that sounds young, but I am not looking for a commitment (um, obviously) and 23 year-olds are not thinking about marriage.”

Holy generalizations.

Kristin and I disagree with these two men (to put it mildly). We say that women are commitment bound not based on age, but based on personality. For men to assume that someone who is 23 isn’t looking to get married and someone who is 28 is, is not only insulting, but inaccurate. Just turn on The Bachelor, for goodness sakes. There are plenty of 23 year-olds who talk incessantly about getting married and popping out kid after kid. And, I have a good number of friends who are still commitment phobic at 28 and 29. Why? Not because of a bad relationship, not because they have issues…but because they haven’t met the right person, or they are still accomplishing and achieving what they want in life before they settle down.

News flash, men – it’s not about how old we are because we are not all alike. Believe it or not, we all march to the beat of our own drum and one size does not fit all. What is good for certain women at 23 is also good for other women at 28, or 33. And vice versa.

I would also like to take this opportunity to point out that if you’re a man in your 30’s and you are going out with a woman who is in her early 20’s, I can assure you that she’s not thinking about “just having some fun” with you. She can do that with someone her own age, and who still has all his hair.

Well, I did it. It’s official.

I’m “in a relationship” on Facebook. That little heart popped up on my friends’ news feed and everything.

Has the romantic atheist in me died, or is it just hiding?