Happiness is dancing to Beastie Boys wearing nothing but a bra, underwear and socks while making Rice Krispie treats and watching UMD's hockey team play Minnesota. Yeah, that's right. I'm mighty talented.

Darren's off at poker night with the boys and Lenny and I are totally capitalizing. He's naked too!

I apologize to all of you (Aurora) who watched for my old man this evening. That Carson man up and died and took up the whole news time, stealing my dad's limelight. They'll still run the story, but because it's got a long shelf life, they have no problem giving their air time to dead celebrities.

The reporter called my house this morning to say the story wouldn't air today. Isn't that sweet? She also said she'd let him know when it'll run.

It better be good.

So how are you?

Watch my dad, Monday night, on NBC nightly news! At least that's when his story is scheduled to run - there's the possibility it could change. If it is, I will - of course - keep you (my faithful reader) in the know.

And I AM getting connections, Alexis...but for PR jobs - none of that journalism crap. Yay!

In the past week, my old man has been contacted by Tower’s newspaper, Duluth’s newspaper and the two big Twin Cities newspapers. A radio station out of Ely has called him in an attempt to get him on the air and yesterday Minnesota Public Radio called hoping for the same. A couple of days ago someone from Dallas, Texas called looking for an interview, but my mom just swore at them and slammed down the phone. (I might exaggerate.)

But today my dad’s fame was brought to a whole new level. I said he was famous (see yesterday’s entry), but to further prove my point, I have a story.

I got a phone call from a job I applied for today (my very first call!) and I was a little broken up about it because I decided it wasn’t the job for me and if I don’t want to even consider the first job that might come along, there’s no way I’ll ever find a job I like. Obviously.

But after I hung up the phone, it rang again and my dad answered it. I figured he was getting called in to work because it’s snowing like insanity out there, but he hung up the phone and said, “Amanda, who’s Jimmy Kimmel?” like the name rang a bell, but he just couldn’t connect the right areas of his brain to figure out exactly who this man was. My mom was all hooting and hollering about The Man Show and I was trying to ask why he wanted to know, and he said, “Oh, they wanted me on his show tonight.”

Excuse me?

Yes. That’s right. For whatever reason (perhaps because it was 54 below there yesterday and but a measly 47 below in Tower), Jimmy Kimmel LIVE is shooting a live remote from Embarrass, Minnesota this evening. They wanted my dad to join in the fun, but he said he had to work. They weren’t about the give up that easy though – they promised to call back again this evening. That means I should probably get off here so they can call again and try to get my fame-shy dad on national television.

I never in a million years thought we’d be getting phone calls from Hollywood. Crazy, crazy shit, I say.

*UPDATE - A reporter from NBC nightly news is coming over tomorrow, so it looks like the old guy will be on national TV whether he likes it or not. This is complete madness.

Where I come from, if you make it in the paper, you're famous. Can you imagine a small-town fellow making it into a big-city newspaper?

My dad's famous!

I need categories for my blog, like all the coolest bloggers have.

(And since by now all of you should know what time of the month it is for me because God knows I talk about it enough...)

Here's one for the PMS archives I don't have!

Today Darren and I went to the Golden Valley Humane Society, as I have three times in the past week. At the humane society is a sweet 10-year-old dog named April who was given up because her owner is too ill to care for her. She's been there every time I've gone to visit this week and, this afternoon, while babbling about what a darling sweetheart mutt she was and petting her, I started crying. She was looking at me with her big, brown eyes while she leaned into the chain-link fence so I could scratch her neck just a little bit lower, and all I could think is that no one is going to adopt a 10-year-old dog and this adorable animal is going to DIE without a FAMILY, not because she's a bad dog, but because she's old.

Okay, so that's really sad to me. It seemed irrational to cry about at the time, there in the humane society with dogs barking and yipping and vying for attention and pooping on thr floor, but now it makes me want to go be April's best friend forever. After all, April hasn't barked or yipped or vied for attention or pooped on the floor ONCE in all the hours I've spent there this past week.

What the hell has happened to me? Since waking up, I've made the bed, washed the dishes, peeled some taters and threw them in with a roast and picked up the living room. Am I trying to prove myself a worthy wife or am I just getting old?

Along the marriage lines, my mother seems to be pushing the issue. Last week Darren's dear mother took a picture of her son and I and sent it to my parents. My mom called me yesterday raving about what a cute picture it was and how she was GOING TO PUT IT IN THE PAPER ALONG WITH OUR ENGAGEMENT ANNOUCEMENT. Jesus, Mother. For the record, we're not engaged. It may be decades before we are.

I've been enjoying my time in the big city. Darren's at work right now and he will be for the next, oh, eight hours or so, so I have plenty of time to entertain myself. This evening I'll be headed back on over to Burnsville to stay with my sister for the weekend. Weehaw! PLUS I get to watch The Cat in the Hat today, which I hear sucked, but I think I need to judge it for myself. We got the unlimited movie pass at Blockbuster and, boy oh boy, have we ever made the most of it.

So that's about the extent of the excitement in my life. I went to THE humane society last week and I fell in love with a six-month-old golden retriever that, obviously, I couldn't have. Also, I haven't killed Darren's cat yet, but i have seriously considered it. Darren spends every night on cat partrol, keeping Lenny from reclining on my face. What a guy.

That's that. Like a horrible friend, I forgot to wish Aurora a happy birthday and I've been meaning to for the past week and a half. So, my dear Aurora, I hope the first week or so of being 23 has been fabulous and it only gets better.

You know, you really haven't lived until you've woken up to a (thankfully, declawed) cat giving you the straight-arm and sticking his furry little paw directly in your eye. Twice. In one night. I think he's seeking retaliation for my monopolizing Darren's attention.

The purpose of this entry was really just to let the world know I'm still alive. Happy new year, kiddies!