Old-Fashioned Blogging

I am finally acquiescing to the request of my cousin and sister that I fill out the following photo survey. As this is published on the Internet, I have no choice but perfect honesty.

Birthplace: Times were hard, but happy. Sometimes.





Guilty Pleasure: (see "favorite flower")

Favorite Actress: Myself





Favorite Actor: Whatever boy I'm currently dating




Favorite Restaurant: This charming place on 400 West. Someone always picks up my tab!



Favorite Color: I look great in orange.



Favorite Place to Shop: See "favorite restaurant"

Favorite Vacation: The "court-ordered" kind



Favorite Car: Whatever current "favorite actor" is driving




Favorite Flower: Poppies. In all their forms.




Dream Career: World's best brain surgeon (well, second to Dr. Derek Shepherd, of course).



Favorite Hobby? (See: "favorite flower")

Painted Faces on Parade

Welcoming (ourselves) to our new casa, six girls threw a little party---a masquerade ball. Here we are . . . incognito.

The Obsession Continues

I fell in love last night.

I'd like to publicly tell Jeremy right now that when the Bachelorette falls through (as it inevitably will), I'm here to pick up the pieces.

(Call me!)

And the Husband Goes to. . .

I have recently developed a small obsession, the indulgence of which I fear is blurring the boundaries between fantasy and reality in my mind. I await each Monday night with the anticipation of a child (or, to be perfectly honest, myself) at Christmas.

I am, of course, speaking of The Bachelor: London Calling.

Never in our time has a love story been so genuine and unaffected: 25 girls compete for the love (and by love I mean diamond) of a man who seeks only his soul mate (and by soul mate I mean dual citizenship).

So you can imagine my delight when, a few weeks ago, I received the following voicemail:

"Hi Kristen, this is Sherry and I'm calling from ABC's The Bachelor. We received your application and photo online (thanks to a humorous friend) and are interested in having you on an upcoming season. I've also sent you an email . . . "

Now, flattering as the offer might stand, I felt I had to decline, though perhaps not for the moral/ethical reasons you might assume. No, I refused because, upon further introspection, I realized I've been living a six-year episode of "Utah: The REAL Bachelor."

Allow me to elaborate: The Bachelor is like Utah dating for the following reasons:

The Women: Tall, beautiful, accomplished. Fashion-forward with the ability to maintain grace while binge drinking and wearing stiletto heels. College degrees, real-life jobs and 401K plans. The clincher: An unwavering desire to get married. This month.

The Men: Possess the ability to walk upright and consider themselves worthy of 25 women competing for them.

Other similarities include:

First Date: A casual hangout at his pad (Arlington or Belmont)with him and 24 other women.

Third Date: Home to meet the parents.

Fourth Date: He proposes or tells you he'll never speak to you again.

Aftermath: Crying to to the tune of "Goodbye my Almost Lover."

The Ring: Paid for by someone else (either ABC or the groom's business-owning father).

The Scene: women, laying around wrapped in throw blankets discussing their romantic lives ad nauseum (the difference being that in Utah, the girls DON'T realize they're talking about the same man).

And so, I regret to announce that I will not be appearing in any upcoming season of The Bachelor, though I urge you all to nominate me to be the next Bachelorette.

Reasons I Miss Ann Taylor

No offense to Banana Republic intended..