Sex-ay!

Mock me if you will.

After long and careful consideration, these are my top fifteen top sexy actors. For today, at any rate. It was really difficult narrowing them down, and I decided to eliminate Clooney and Depp right off the bat, because, you know...they're CLOONEY and DEPP. Redneck straight men with sawed-off shotguns in the gun rack of their vintage pickup trucks would pop the top off a can of Coors and agree, "Yep, they're hot." So, minus C&D, here they are. And yes, I know, I sometimes have...interesting taste. What can I say?

Jeffrey Tambor. I liked him before, but "Arrested Development" made me lurve him.

Leonard Nimoy. (Like this is any big surprise.) Live long and prosper, Mr. Nimoy. And stop quirking that eyebrow at me--I may swoon.

Patrick Dempsey. Yes, yes, I know....EVERYone thinks he's hot NOW. But I had deep and abiding love for him when he was just a young lad, running around servicing older women onscreen (AND offscreen at the time). And my love deepened and ripened when he played Aaron on the gone-too-soon and deeply-missed "Once and Again." That was some beautiful, beautiful acting.

Paul Rudd. Not alone in this, I know, but the man is so damn funny and talented, and, while he could easily have traded on his looks, he's chosen instead to do weird, quirky, interesting work. What's not to love?

Rocky Carroll. I couldn't even list that many things he's been in. I mostly remember him as the brother in that Charles S. Dutton sitcom whose name I can't remember, and as the bartender in "Prelude to a Kiss." But the man is FINE.

Stephen Colbert. I've been a fan since "Strangers with Candy." "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" have certainly done nothing to lessen my love. And, I mean, look at him...the man is willing to look silly. And that's very attractive.

David Eigenberg. I never understood how Miranda could keep breaking up with him on "Sex and the City." He's adorable.

Jon Stewart. Whip-smart, funny as all hell, gorgeous...and he married a veterinary technician. Be still, my heart.

Goran Visnjic. Okay, I can never remember quite how to spell his last name, but he smolders. And that eastern European accent...oh my. Oh my, oh my.

Keenen Ivory Wayans. Haven't seen much of him onscreen since the long-ago days of "In Living Color," but I still have fond memories. SO handsome.

Mandy Patinkin. Yes, I think he can probably be a bit of a pill, but I don't care. I've loved him since I saw him walking shirtless out of the water in "Yentl." Yowza. I also love to hear him sing, overuse of falsetto or not. I saw him perform live once, from about 8 rows back, and I am absolutely positive that he was singing straight to me. Do not attempt to disabuse me of this notion.
Alan Rickman. It would be impossible to even attempt to list his credits here--the man has done everything. My favorite role would be, of course, as Jamie in "Truly, Madly, Deeply." I can get all teary-eyed just thinking about it.

Scott Bakula. They've been running old episodes of "Quantum Leap" a few nights a week recently, and I am reminded of a) how much I loved that show, and b) how incredibly attractive Mr. Bakula is. That episode where he leaped into a chimpanzee, and then spent most of the time running around in nothing but a diaper? Whew. And then the one where he leaped into the midst of a production of "Man of La Mancha" and reminded us all what a great singer he is, as well? Sigh.

Colin Firth. Come on, I don't have to explain this one, do I?

Gene Wilder. What can I say? Quirky and funny and smart. To me, that personifies sexy.

There you have it. Feel free to ridicule me for my choices. I'm a big girl--I can take it.

And, if you feel like spending some time browsing through photos of hot guys, then consider yourself tagged.

TGIF. TG, TG.

Well, I've made it to Friday, so...there's that.

Still suffering the remains of the sciatica. Damn, it's annoying. Every time I think I'm almost done with it, it comes back to kick me in the ass. Literally. The pain originates in my right butt cheek. And the outside of my right foot has been numb for, what..almost four weeks now? No fun. It is better, I'm not saying it's not better. It's just not GONE. I'm no longer twisted into a pretzel, and instead of feeling like I'm sitting on a bag of walnuts, I feel more like I'm sitting on..a pencil. Still annoying, but not AS bad. I'm getting a renewal of one of my prescriptions today--my old standby Aleve just wasn't quite cutting it--and maybe that will help me kick it for good. I really, really need to start doing some workouts and yoga, but I don't want to worsen anything. Hopefully it will all resolve soon, and I can get a decent night's sleep again. (It's hard to spend the entire night in the one comfortable position I've found--I like to turn periodically, and when I do...ouch.)

So, that's how I'm feeling physically, how am I feeling emotionally? Sad? Bereft? Heartbroken? Do you like any of those?

New Guy officially accepted a job offer yesterday. He'll be living much closer to his kids, but about 4 hours away from here. (In a town in which I have some old college friends living, coincidentally.) So, you're thinking...at least she has the rest of this school year and part of the summer with him, right? Well...maybe not. We don't know for sure yet, but there' s a chance one of his kids might be coming to live with him, like...next week. Long story, not mine to tell, but I'm a little worried about how this is going to turn out. Worried for the kid, mostly, and New Guy. Of course, it sucks that my time with him will be, at the very least, incredibly curtailed, if this happens, but I really just don't want it to be traumatic for either of them. He'll know more after the weekend.

So, I stayed over at his house last night, and this morning we had our heartfelt "just in case this is our last chance to really talk" talk. If I think about it too much, I'll start crying again, but it was very sweet. Of course, I still might see him occasionally, even with his son in town, but there won't be any more "overnighters," obviously. Sigh.

Coincidentally, we met exactly 8 months ago today.

When I left his house this morning, it was raining. When I got to my side of town, the sun was out and the sky was blue. I'm trying to turn that into some sort of optimistic metaphor. But mostly I'm just sad.

I did tell him that if he realizes, once he's gone, that he can't live without me, he knows where to find me, and he had the good grace to at least pretend to consider it. I mean...there was no laughing in my face or a horrified outburst of "aw, hell no." Heh.

Okay, now I'm going to get to the task that Sauntering Soul has challenged me to, and spend a little while looking for pictures of actors that make me hot. That should be good fun, no?

Don't let this happen to you

If you happen to be reading this, and live in Oklahoma, take your driver's license out right now and check the expiration date. Seriously. Do you know what happens if you accidentally let your license expire, since the passage of H.B. 1804 (cracking down on illegal aliens since 2007) last fall? ('Cause obviously, no legally-residing, law-abiding resident would EVER let their license expire, right?)

Well, here's how it goes down.

You go to the bank (the one you've been going to for YEARS) to deposit your paycheck, and get your usual $20 pocket money, and there's a new kid working. He (overchieving little rule-follower) asks to see your ID before he'll give you your twenty bucks. You sigh, thinking "what kind of inept con-person would steal someone's check and deposit all but $20 of it into their account for them?" You pull out your license and lay it on the counter, rolling your eyes a bit.

"I'm sorry," shiny new kid says, "I can't give you the cash. Your license is expired."

"Oh, it is not!" you exclaim, confident in this knowledge. You take the license back, slip on your reading glasses and see...that he's right. It's expired. You're stunned. And then pissed off. And you curse the state, which decided years ago that sending out renewal notices for licenses was just too damn much trouble. You try to remember the last time you even had your license out of your purse. Nobody ever cards you at the liquor store, you use your debit card instead of writing checks, and, as you're generally a law-abiding citizen, no policeman has demanded "license and proof of insurance" in some time. But expired it is.

"I can't give you the cash. Would you like me to deposit the entire check?"

Of course, you little twit.

And then you will go to the ATM outside and get your own damn $20.

And then you'll head over to the tag agency to get your license renewed on your lunch hour tomorrow.

Which you do.

Great! There's nobody in the driver's license line. This should be a snap. "I'm here to renew my driver's license, which I let expire."

"Sorry. I can't renew expired licenses. You'll have to take your birth certificate to the Department of Public Safety first."

"I don't have my birth certificate. My mother has it in another town. I think." (I hope.)

"Passport?"

"It's expired."

"Where were you born?"

"Missouri."

"Well, you'll have to get a copy of it somehow. The DPS offices are on the westside, in Jenks or in Broken Arrow." (All completely inconvenient locations, by the by.)

"Is this new?"

"Since last November."

Aah...your brain kicks in. H.B. 1804. Damn it!

You go back to work. Your co-workers helpfully point out that you could just go across the street and get a certified copy at the health department for $10. "Even if I was born in Missouri?" Well, NO. Rats.

So, you call your mother. "Do you have my birth certificate?"

"I think I do, but I'm on the way to the hospital to get my foot x-rayed--can I call you later?"

Well, YEAH.

Eventually the birth certificate is located and mailed. ("Should I send it certified?" "GOD no--I won't be home to sign for it and they'll leave a note on the door and I'll have to drive to some post office god-knows-where to pick it up. Just mail it.")

It arrives safely, and you decide that the best time to tackle the DPS is mid-morning. After the first in line people, and before the lunch hour people. (This is a pretty good plan.) So off you go. They're serving #712, and you pluck #725 from the little machine. And you wait. In the few minutes you wait, you hear at least three people mention casually to their companions, "when I was in jail..." Holy shit, just what kind of scofflaws are you consorting with here?

Your number is called, and you decide the best approach to the notoriously surly DPS employees is to immediately admit you're a fuckup.

"What can I do for you?"

"I let my driver's license expire, since I am a STUPID IDIOT, and now I'm here to show you my birth certificate."

He laughs. "You're not an idiot, and I can take care of this for you." Which he does, quite graciously for a civil servant. You sign a form, let them fingerprint your index fingers, and get sent to stand before the blue screen for a picture. You're confused--you were told you'd have to return to the tag agency for the actual license--are you actually getting it here? The picture gets retaken--your head was slightly at an angle--and then he shows it to you on the screen and says "that's good." Good? Not hardly. "Look at your pretty eyes." IS HE FLIRTING WITH YOU?

Then an official form is filled out and stamped, and you are free to return to the tag agency of your choice for the actual license. But be sure to take the form AND your birth certificate AND your old license.

"And you have a great day." Thanks, civil civil servant.

Off to the tag agency.

Great--nobody in the line. This should be a snap.

Which it was. You have to have your picture taken again, and be fingerprinted again (in case you decided to pass off the paperwork to an illegal alien on the way, I guess), and she lets you preview both the picture and your official signature before she prints it. She helpfully points out the expiration date and you make her laugh by cartoonishly impressing that information into your brain. You write a check and you're done.

Thank goodness the world is once again safe for democracy.

And you made employees laugh at both the Department of Public Safety and the Tag Agency. You are obviously a comedic genius.

Still not dead

Just in a funk, physically and emotionally. I'm sure I'll feel like talking about it all eventually.



In the meantime, let me just make up for being remiss in not acknowledging my gratitude that 3carnations thinks I'm Above Average!

I always suspected it to be so. Hee.

I should pass this award along to several others, I know, and perhaps if I were WAY above average, I would. But, as it is, I will just say, if you're reading this...please consider yourself to be above average, as well. (You know you are.)

It's been a really rough week.

I think the low point may have been Wednesday, when I watched Pudge do his post-poop victory lap and nearly cried from jealousy. I wanted to both run AND poop, but sadly, could do neither.

I am pleased to report that I am once again walking upright. Not without pain, mind you, but UPRIGHT, and that is a big improvement. The "regularity" problem has resolved itself (not without help, but whatever), I made it through the show last night without using a walker (though we had one standing by), and this afternoon I have an appointment for a massage.

So, things are looking up, possibly. I don't know whether to give credit to the naproxen, the ibuprofen, the diclofenac, the darvoset I finally got desperate enough to pull out of the medicine cabinet where I had stashed it in disgust three years ago, the valium, the organic apple cider vinegar, the long, hot baths, the icy-hot cream, the ice packs, the potassium, the heating pad, the capsicum patches, the mineral oil, the cane, or just the old "tincture of time," but I no longer feel like death is imminent. (Or desired.) I feel confident that I will make it through the rest of the shows, and then hopefully New Guy will be back in town (I say hopefully since he's supposed to be flying into DFW at some point this weekend, and what a helluva mess THAT is right now), and we can spend some quality time together before...well, you know.

And that's life as we know it, here in LizLand.

Here's to next week!

I am not dead.

But last night, I almost wished I was. Needless to say, the back strain, and the sciatica, particularly, have not cleared up magically overnight. They have, in fact, worsened to the point that I can't even sit or recline comfortably. And driving? Driving is an exercise in misery. Yesterday morning, I honest to god thought I had left something in my driver's seat, and reached underneath my butt to dig it out. There was nothing there. The feeling of sitting on rocks was coming simply from my knotted up glutes. Nice. I did go to the doctor yesterday, and got my own prescription for the drug I was "borrowing" from a friend (so it's a felony--sue me), plus some steroids. But so far, I have to say, I am still quite miserable.

Have you ever had sciatica? Any magical, miracle cures to offer? I have been told about the wondrous healing powers of apple cider vinegar, and I plan to try that as soon as I can drag myself back into the grocery store. I am open to any and all suggestions. I've got three more performances to get through later this week, and my masseuse (New Guy) is out of town all week.

And now, if you will excuse me, the hunching over my desk and moaning won't do itself.

Shoot me now

Lumbar pain is bad.

Sciatica, in conjunction with lumbar pain, is worse.

CRAMPS, in addition to sciatica, in conjunction with lumbar pain? See above re: title of blog post.

Dress rehearsal tonight. Woo hoo!