


Here's my sister's family posing with Shrek.

Apparently me and my niece have the exact same taste in men. Awkward.
Max doing his very best Gene Simmons impersonation.
As you all know, my love for David Spade is deep and true.
Erin's family with the Bob Marley star.
Mel's Diner! We were just fans of the TV show, Alice. Seeing this made our day.
Of course, this is entirely based on his cute attire, his politeness, and, most importantly of all, his sexy British accent. YUM. I wanted him to read the newspaper to me just so I could hear him talk. We saw him at the Beverly Hilton and he was a dream come true. Perhaps I'll start watching the show after all...
This morning I woke up with a stomach looking like it caught the chicken pox. Considering I've had the chicken pox twice already, I knew that wasn't the problem. I started thinking about what's been in my room and finally found the offender: My sister's stupid dog, Porter. Guess what? Porter has fleas. Porter's been hanging out on the rug in my room when they visit. According to everything I've read, the fleas can then jump into my bed and waa-laa....I'm a flea buffet. Gah.

Stupid fleas. Stupid dog. Of course, none of their family got bitten....just me. How could I be so lucky?
Betty Rubble called. She'd like her outfit back.
Speaking of Betty Rubble....I may be able to give Vanessa a pass as seeing Zac first thing in the morning would distract me from being able to pick out adequate pants, as well.
The caption to this photo said Hilary Clinton was being glamorous. Um, do they actually know the meaning of that word? Because there's nothing glamorous about this tent.
Speaking of tents....or is that a Hefty cinch sack?
We ran into her at the Beverly Hilton and she was completely adorable. I actually really like her with the brown hair. The funniest part about the picture is when I showed it to Phoenix this morning (who loves all things High School Musical - especially Ashley), her reaction was, "You got her?" That's the perfect lingo for collectors - she learns quick! :)
This morning I had the opportunity to go to Max's graduation from his summer Pre-K class. It was a super cute little presentation and all the kids were awarded with crowns, sang several songs, and had to tell everyone what their favorite color was and what they wanted to be when they grew up. A few of my favorite answers for the favorite animal: A baby jaguar, a duckling, and a T-Rex. My favorite answers for the future jobs were: Superman, paint houses, and sell donuts. The girl who picked selling donuts as her future career confused her parents. I thought perhaps they owned a donut shop, but no. She just really enjoys donuts.



Um, maybe it's just me, but shouldn't SJP be holding onto Matthew Broderick's arm? I mean, he's the husband in this threesome, right? Just sayin'....
Gah! Meg Ryan coming out of the Apple store at The Grove - how did I miss her there?
Oh, Leo. Looking so hot walking through the airport.....how I wish you would've made it all the way to me at your premiere. Sigh.
Pink tinted accessories? Yes, please. An album title of Flamingo? Yes, please. A hot Brandon Flowers leaning against the wall waiting for me in our magnificent room? YES, please.

There are a few combinations that will never end well and the other night was a perfect storm of every imaginable one for me. I was ridiculously tired (as I'd had about half an hour of sleep); I had to be on-set at 6:30 (but overslept by 15 minutes) and kept busy there all day; I only ate once all day (around noonish); I'd missed a day or two of my anti-depressants because I forgot to take them; and, to top it off, it was the end of my monthly....well, you know. Lovely. I should've worn a sign around that said: Don't Anger The Pink and perhaps the day would've gone better.
Unfortunately, by midnight, I was about to explode and Adam was in my path of bitch. Granted, he wasn't perfect himself, but I was in rare form. If I'd been some animal in a zoo, they would've shot me with a dart to sedate me. I suppose the only good thing was that I didn't really speak (because I don't think I was able to do anything but yell at that point); I just clammed up and drove 100 miles per hour. Sometimes shutting your mouth is the only way to survive. Apparently we're still friends, so that's good. Maybe I just like to fight?
Dear Michael Cera: They're called socks. Look into them.
Dear Megan Fox: I believe you accidentally put on your six-year-old stepson's shirt instead of one of your own. It looks a *wee* bit small.
Dear Mischa Barton: We're looking. We don't know at what, but you've obviously got our attention. Now wear something normal. For once.
Dear Mira Sorvino: Why is it that when I look at your dress, Debbie Gibson songs pop into my head? Any idea?