Wasn't only a few months ago. . .

This is the post where I get all crazy and explain to people why we never believe it when a celebrity goes on TV to deny, apologize or address rumors. It's because they lie.

Only a few months ago, Britney was telling Matt Lauer that she and Kevin were great and that she had Sean Preston on her lap while driving because she was country. We knew you were lying then and it only took a couple of months, a few breaking up text messages and an appearance on David Letterman to back it up.

However, one thing Britney did cry and cry about was the paparazzi's intrusion into her life. Look, I can't proclaim to know what it's like to have people following me around all day and asking annoying questions because I don't have kids. The paparazzi are just like an annoying daycare swarming you at all times but instead of "Why?" they ask "Are you and Kevin getting a divorce?" over and over and over again.

But isn't it convenient that now that she's single and ready to mingle, Spears ends up in front of the flashbulbs again with Paris Hilton. Britney's in between publicists right now, but even an amateur knows that a night out with Paris will totally get a lot of attention. And it did. It was even on the Today show this morning. Their friendship of convenience is getting more press than Britney's cover of "My Prerogative."

In other news of the worthless, I'm happy to hear that the Cowboys cut their losses and released Kicker Mike Vanderjagt, aka Jimmy Canada. The most accurrate kicker in football except for when it really matters was an astounding 13 for 18 this season (72 percent). Not only that, but two of his misses were against his former team. I was so happy that Chef had to get me to stop repeatedly rewinding the Tivo to hear the thunk. It's been years, but apparently Vanderjagt still hasn't learned that "an idiot kicker" is not as important as. . . well, nearly every other player on the team.

It was the night before Thanksgiving. . .

And all through the apartment, the only thing I can hear is Chef snoring.

It's been crazy lately. Our branch of non-profit is merging with the Florida branch which means that I get to travel to the Sunshine State. I was in Orlando last week and although I was bombarded with Mickey, I never really got to leave the hotel. I did, however, get stopped in the security line at the airport. Apparently my underwire bra was enough to set off the metal detector. It happens all the time and my only comment is that it takes a LOT of engineering to hold my boys up.

I also had another incident in the Orlando airport. As I was walking, a lady dragging her wheeled suitcase behind her clipped me and I went tumbling. It was my second best fall ever. I went on all fours and it was in slow motion. The six co-workers I was traveling with were all concerned, but none of them laughed at the time, which shook me a little. I mean, I fell. It was funny. Laugh.
My best fall involved falling down a flight of stairs with my skirt going over my head to expose my thong. It was a couple of years ago, ladies. We were all wearing thongs then, so don't give me shit about it. Nonetheless, it still remains my best fall.

I came back from Orlando and I have to say that Chef surprised me. He had cleaned the apartment, cooked Chicken Parmesan, uncorked the wine, lit candles, dressed up and totally pampered me when I got home. Sometimes leaving has its advantages, if only that I get wonderful treatment when I return.

Tomorrow is Turkey Day. I'm only not panicking because I've already taken care of six Christmas gifts. Normally at this time of year, I haven't even started yet. Actually, I've taken care of six Christmas gifts and two birthday gifts. Mostly because as a January baby, I know the pains of getting the combined gifts and I really feel for December borns. Talk about stealing your thunder.

I hope everyone has a nice holiday. I plan on eating a lot of non-traditional items as my families don't really do the whole turkey thing. However, I know that pumpkin pie will show up in my stomach at some point over the long weekend. If nothing else, Chef will make me one.

Here comes the sun, do do do do

Isn't it amazing how much better the sun shining makes a day?

Yesterday and a few days before, it's been raining. Not a big deal until you consider the rain one more reason that God hates you. Okay, so I had a bad day on Tuesday. It started out okay. I had lots of errands to run and two conference calls and a meeting to work around. Plus I had to vote. That's where things got ugly.

I went to the voting place feeling like it was my lucky day. The lines were amazingly short. One of the election volunteers even commented on us being so lucky. Then on my way out, I helped an old lady carrying an umbrella and her cane down some steps and to her car. The combination of the old lady and the voting made me feel like super-citizen. I was feeling so good about myself.

Until I was driving down the alley near my house to pick something up before I headed back to work. The rain had made the most treacherous pothole in the alley invisible. It just looked like a big puddle and in my glow of good deeds, I didn't remember to avoid it. I hit that sucker so hard that it blew my tire out. I hope that whoever I voted for will fix this sucker!

Anyway, I barely made it to the parking lot of the apartment complex when I started to go hysterical. Car troubles bug me out more than nearly anything else. So, Chef comes out of the apartment and begins to change my tire. I love Chef all the time, but on days when its raining, I'm in work attire and he's outside changing my tire for me, I begin to really appreciate what love is.

Anyway, he gets the car jacked up, the bad tire off and what happens? The spare is flat. So me and my friend Julie take the tire to a service station about 1/10th of a mile away from the apartment. They fix the flat and Patrick changes the tire like a Nascar pit crew. I almost think he wants a rivot gun. Considering this is the second time he's changed my tire for me, he probably deserves one.

I go back to work 30 minutes late for the meeting I'm supposed to be in. My friend had told two of the people in the meeting why I was going to be late, but apparently they didn't pass it along, so people thought I was just rude.

I leave work to home and Chef is cooking dinner for us, like the cute, cuddly and wonderful boyfriend that he is. I stop at the market to get dessert and vegetable oil (there were no crappy jigs or tampons in my purse this time--that one's for my girls). I have to fight the 45 other people circling the tiny parking lot for the 5 open spaces. I get one, get downpoured on on the way in, get my stuff and go home only to realize that I hadn't gotten the vegetable oil afterall. I nearly cried when I realized that I would have to repeat the process.

When I REALLY got home, I was wet with rain and really tired. Of course, Chef again came to the rescue (have I mentioned my knight in shining armor?) and had a cocktail in my hand in no time. From there on, it was a good night.

That's the long, boring version of Election Day for Ashley.

Sushi, Football and Paula Deen

Because of all the extra time I'd been spending at work surrounding our large event, my boss graciuosly offered for me to "work at home" one day this week. This translates into him knowing that I will be at home and the work part is optional. He's very nice that way.

So on Friday, Chef and I ran some errands, grabbed some sushi for lunch and dropped off a sandwich for a friend of mine that was waiting in line to see Paula Deen. For those of you who don't watch Food Network, and shame on you, Paula is a good ole Southern broad whose recipes are delicious but also induce almost instanteous heart disease. We're talking whole sticks of butter and a dozen eggs. Of course, down here, she's a God. My friend started waiting at 10 a.m. and the signing didn't begin until 1 p.m. She was 150 people back.

Paula's well and good, but I'd have to say that my favorite shows are Everyday Italian (Giada is soothing to me even though she's skinny), Rachel Ray's show (although 30 minutes is a crock of shit) and Good Eats (this is campy it's funny--kind of like the old Batmans). Sandra Lee is my least favorite because it seems like she's a substance abuser. No one needs 300 recipes for cocktails and some of the stuff is so ridiculous I think she must have been smoking crack when she came up with it.

All that aside, I got to spend a leisurely weekend alternately spending time with Chef and watching football when he was working. It was glorious and almost perfect.

Are we really that stupid?

I hate getting political. I honestly believe that politics are like religion. You can't really convert someone away from their beliefs but only make someone understand your point of view.

However, in these times, it's really hard not to comment on politics. It's November and unless you live under a rock or watch Tivo exclusively, you've been bombarded with political ads. And this year's ads have been pretty nasty.

But its not the ads so much that piss me off. Anyone with half a brain realizes that advertising is at its worst in the hands of any politician and his or her crew. What makes me mad is how every little political blip now becomes the first 30 minutes of the Today show each morning.

First there was the big blow up over Kerry's "joke." It wasn't a joke, John Kerry. Jokes are funny and comedians usually despise all politicians. So unless he's become self-hating, I think we can all agree Kerry's statement was a stab at the president. People are smart enough to get it. Well, most people are. Having every other political party point out that Kerry and all democrats think that soldiers are stupid essentially makes me think that people believe Americans are all gullible.

Or at least that we think words are more hurtful than being a sexual predator. I have to say that I think soliciting kids over the Internet is a lot creepier than just about anything. Especially when that person was sponsoring legislation to prevent the very act they were taking part in. I'm talking to you, Mr. Foley.

Besides, everyone knows that Democrats are sexier. No one ever says they want a nice piece of elephant. I can't take credit for that. A friend at work told me about a t-shirt that said that on it.

But then again, that's just my opinion. And the great thing is that America is that my opinion counts just as much as everyone else's. It counts for one vote. Which I plan on doing on Tuesday. And then I can go back to watching regular TV. And in the end, isn't that what we all hope for?