"The Hills" are alive with the sounds of empty heads

So "The Hills" is back, and I feel more stupid already.

The season premiere was last week and of course I watched, it may be completely silly, but that's what makes it so highly entertaining.

The season kicked off with Lauren and Whitney (the two blonds on the left) in Paris for their faux"jobs" at Teen Vogue.

We got to see the L.A. girls traipse around Paris in designer gowns, in smoke-filled clubs being hit on by locals. Personally, I thought their driver was the best-looking guy there.

Lauren went for a late-night Vespa ride with a musician named Mathias who seemed to perpetually have a cigarette in his hand or mouth. You gotta love those Parisians and their smokes. I just wouldn't want to kiss one.

The other storyline was of course, the Spencer/Heidi drama. Whenever I see Spencer Pratt all I can think of is a weasel. Not that he acts like a weasel (which he totally does) but that he looks and sounds like one. He has to be the most unappealing man (and I use that word loosely, I think he's more of a boy) I have ever seen.

When we left off last season the engaged couple had decided to take a break, and Heidi headed back home to Colorado (I think so they could get lots of shots of picturesque Crested Butte in the snow) and of course, douche that he is, Spencer shows up uninvited (sad-looking red roses in hand) and well, drama ensues! I actually think these two empty-headed idiots deserve each other.

So, why do I watch this crap? Who the hell knows. So I can feel superior that I have an IQ over 70? Perhaps. Or maybe it's just after a long day of writing it's a vacation from thinking. I could of course watch Keith Oberman (whom I have to admit has become my nerd-crush) but then I'd have to focus and process information. "The Hills" is entertainment without brain-strain, there's no danger of having a serious thought during that show. Unless you count thoughts like: Why did Brody Jenner shave his hair off? And how come he's so rarely on his father's (Bruce Jenner) family's reality show, "Keep Up With the Kardashian's," is there a rift? Is Brody worried about over-exposure while he builds his career as...um, I don't know what he does other than go to clubs and smile - nice work if you can get it!

There is a part of me that wonders why I have information about any of these simpletons in my brain. Whitney and Audrina seem like pretty sweet young women, but good Lord, the don't seem to have the combined brain power to light a 40-watt bulb.

The sad thing is I will be setting my DVR to record it. It's like an accident I can't turn away from. I kind of want to see if they can top these life-changing lines:
"Jeans can be really addicting. New ones come out and you have to have them." Gee Whitney, maybe you can join a 12-Step program!

"And all I hoped for was a drama-free New Year's kiss." It's nice Lauren is keeping her life-goals very simple.

I truly think that if I could adopt a "Hills" view of life things would be so much easier for me. No more worrying about making ends meet or doing well in my career. I think I'm going to try a day looking at things the Lauren Conrad way:

"Now my only problem is figuring out what to wear!"

If only it were that simple...

Clowns are so not my favorite

I just know everyone in the world is going to think I am completely crazy, because yes, I have yet another thing I'm afraid of to confess. It's clowns! I hadn't thought about clowns for a while, all right, maybe a day or two, until my friend Laurie told me she was going to the circus on Saturday, and I felt a shudder. I admit it, I do not like clowns. Or mimes. And I'm not real crazy about magicians either. Though I'm not scared of them, I just find them kind of annoying.

I heard the above Ingrid Michaelson song, "The Way I Am," months ago in an Old Navy sweater commercial and liked it, and put it on m iPod. I really liked it, until I saw the scary video which features, you got it - clowns. How they could ruin a perfectly good song with clowns I do not know.

I don't know where the clown phobia started, but I do remember being upset at the circus, and throwing up once at the Ice Capades because the smell of a woman's perfume who was sitting near us. Hey, cut me some slack, I was like 5-years-old.

Throughout my childhood I would tense up whenever clowns were around, they were so not happy to me! I know I'm not alone in my coulrophobia. My friend Laura says she suffers from it too and I know there are many more of us out there.

I Googled "clowns are scary," and 390,000 pages came up. I found everything from videos of scary clowns to one Web site that had an "I hate clowns" store that has mugs, T-shirts, hats and more. I especially loved the shirts that said, "Can't sleep - clowns will eat me." They even have an "I hate mimes" T-shirt as well. See? I am SO not alone!

My kids, no longer small children, don't seem particularly fond of clowns either, but this is probably my fault, as is their disdain for the "Wizard of Oz," because yes, that scares me too. Hello?! Have you seen that witch?! I don't know what scares me more, the witch or those freaking flying monkeys. They were pretty equally terrifying for an impressionable small child, who grew up to be an apparently very impressionable woman. Wow, I really am kind of a mess, aren't I?

The good news is the older I get, and the older my children get, the less clown-centric activities I have to deal with. I don't attend many children's birthday parties, I don't frequent the circus or grand openings of car dealerships (for some reason they think this will bring in customers, I so beg to differ) and living in a small town I don't run into many street performers (i.e. - mimes!). So my life is pretty much clown-free.

If I could just convince musicians to not put clowns in their videos, things would pretty much be perfect.

"Smiling's My Favorite!"

The Will Ferrell movie, "Elf" is a holiday staple in our house, we usually watch it several times over the Christmas season, but the quotes go on long after the Christmas tree is down. Most popular - "Smiling's my favorite!" Which them becomes, "Coffee's my favorite!" "Sunshine's my favorite!" Well, you get the idea.

I got thinking about this because my daughter is home from college on spring break, and I never laugh as much as I do when she's around.

I find that when left to my own devices, I don't smile or laugh nearly as much.

We went on an unsuccessful adventure yesterday trying to find her some cross-stitch fabric because as she said, "I'm living like a 70-year-old woman," and she wanted to cross stitch some pandas - doesn't every 22-year-old?

We struck out at every store we could think of in our area, and for some reason every failed attempt just made us laugh even more.

By the time we got to a store called, "The Town Ho," yeah, you can only imagine the jokes that ensued from that, we were ridiculously silly. We stopped at a small market to buy a lottery ticket (because I am nothing if not a great financial planner) and we were so silly that I was afraid people would think I was some awful mother who gets high with her daughter. That's just the way we get when we're together.

I think there's something about being with my daughter that allows me to shrug off my day-to-day seriousness and ambition, just for a short while, that lets this silliness out. It's not something I am able to tap into very often on my own. At 22 my daughter doesn't have the same pressures and responsibilities in her life that I, as her mother have. She's about to graduate from college, so that is probably going to change a bit as she goes into a responsible job and live away from a college dorm.

I always promise myself after spending time with her that I am going to remember that feeling of pure silliness, but I think you kind of need a partner in crime to help get you there. I chuckle to myself and think, "that's what she said," when I hear openings for that punchline, but it's not the same when it's not shared. Just a glance, knowing what the other is thinking is sometimes all it takes.

Maybe the lesson for all us grown-ups to take away from all of this, is realizing how far we let ourselves get from being silly. A natural silliness un-enhanced by drugs or alcohol, an ability to tap into that side of us that is there, if we just let it out.

It's not surprising that we get bogged down - just watching the daily news is enough to smack the silly out of any of us. But I for one refuse to let it all get me down, I am careful about how much negativity I expose myself to, and I make sure to try to see the funny in everyday situations.

And I make sure to remind myself quite often that smiling truly is my favorite.

Being here now:Maybe when I'm done multi-taking

Like millions of others around the world, I have been reading Eckhart Tolle's book, "A New Earth"and trying hard to practice what I'm reading.

I've always been aware of how much I am in my head a lot the time, but reading this book is making me see I'm ALWAYS in my head - listening to music, the TV, on the phone and always, always several steps ahead of myself - so not being in the moment.

So this weekend I tried to do something different. Instead of listening to music while I was in the shower, I was just quiet, and tried to keep my mind just on what I was doing. I focused on feeling the warm water on my body, the way the shampoo felt in my hair, the roughness of my little bath scrubby as I lathered it up. And it actually worked for a couple of seconds at a time. I don't seem capable of not getting ahead of myself and into the next thing on my list for more than a couple of seconds.

I'm assuming I'm not alone, given the fact that about 700,000 people have signed up for the online "A New Earth" class with Oprah. Every week hundreds of thousands tune into their computers and watch the live version of this discussion. Thousands more boot up their computers and watch the recorded version throughout the week.

Why do I even care? What I'm doing is sort of working for me, so why try to change? I think I see that all too often I'm not in my life, I'm living some future version of it. See, I am sort of a self-help junkie, and as a former life coach, I've done my fair share of reading and encouraging of others. So I've been trying to balance this "be here now" philosophy with the law of attraction way of thinking. You know, the visualizing, affirming and speaking about how you want things to be (always keeping it present and affirmative- got it? Yeah, it's not easy).

So for now I'm walking the tight rope of trying to be where I am at any given moment - and allowing myself to feel where I am and what I'm doing, and balancing that with letting myself visualize where I want my life to be. Yeah, it doesn't make a lot of sense to me either. But I figure as long as I'm trying to do better it's got to help a bit.

I must admit that there are times in my life where it makes things easier to not be completely present, and I actually think it's an intergral part of being a writer. I do some of my best thinking when I'm doing something else. Vacuuming is a perfect time to try to figure out a writing challenge - that white noise thing. And the fact that I come up with story ideas or solve a writing dilema while I'm cleaning the cat litter makes that job a lot less yucky. I create scenes for my book and write dialogue in my head while I'm on a treadmill at the gym. When I walk outside I even carry a pen and paper in my pocket in case something wonderful pops into my head.

The more I write this the less I am seeing the benefit for me to be more present. Maybe the solution is taking moments here and there to be here now. Like in the shower. I think I can handle that. At least for a few seconds.

Creepy Crawly Critters and More

Yesterday I got up and like I always do, I groggily shuffled into the bathroom. When I stood up, pulling up my purple, fleece Hello Kitty jammie pants, I looked at the toilet and saw lurking under the seat, some spindly legs that I knew were from a daddy long legs. I freaked that I had just been sitting there, and Lord knows what that spider could have done to my exposed backside! After I stopped yelling, "Ew!" like a little, well, big girl, I calmed myself down, sort of.

This incident did set in motion some neurotic spinning (how about that pun?!) and checking my bottom for teethmarks - not easy to do my friends. I managed, despite the trauma to go on with my day, but I have to admit that every time I forayed into the bathroom I checked, and rechecked the seat before I sat down.

So, now you know, spiders are not among my favorite creatures. I have nothing personally against their right to exist, and I know they do a lot of good, I just don't like them in my space. They should stay in their space and I'll stay in mine. You don't see me hanging out in their webs.

Unfortunately spiders are but the tip of the paranoid iceberg with me, and after this incident I got thinking about the other things in my house that freak me out.

Number one would be the basement. I am not fond of my basement. It's too...well, basement-y. It's dark, dank and just downright creepy. I only go down there to check my oil tank, and now with oil prices at record highs, there's a whole new reason to fear that place. I almost always go down there when I'm on the phone with someone -just in case. In case of what I don't know, but I just need to know someone somewhere would know if I had a problem. I don't think that's weird at all.

I'm also not fond of hurricanes (or the threat of them) and blizzards. Three years ago we had something here called a "microburst". I was home alone when it hit and I was freaked out. So now I wonder, will it happen again? Every time it snows I wonder if I'll be snowed in for days and be eaten by wild dogs (it's a recurring theme) and relentlessly check weather.com for amounts expected, and curse at the computer and TV when they're wrong.

I really don't consider myself that high maintenance -but maybe that's part of being high maintenance - the denial of who you really are is in itself part of being high maintenance. I think I've hit a philosophical cul de sac:do you have to believe you're high maintenance to BE high maintenance? Yeah, probably not. It's probably a condition better spotted by objective bystanders. My children don't count - they're so not objective. My daughter is always telling me I'm irrational, so I think I know where her vote would land. But I really don't think my list is that exceptional, even when you add bees, (and their counterparts - wasps, yellow jackets and anything else stingy) coyotes, foxes and of course, snakes.

So I guess you'll never see me on "Survivor" or "Fear Factor" but I don't think that makes me less of a mature, rational woman capable of handling sticky situations. I will stick my hand in a raw chicken (not for sport but for purpose) clean up cat vomit and plunge a toilet (as long as there's no spider there). So I refuse to feel bad about the things I'm afraid of. I actually like to think by being so open about my own fears that I'm helping others. I'm betting several people who read this will check their toilets before they sit down. A simple thank you is plenty of payment.

Single Lens Reflex

I was awake in the middle of the night fretting, and I decided that I can't do it all. I know, it's shocking, I always thought I could. Somehow I'm sure I'm the only one who did.

This occurred to me after having sat at my computer yesterday (save a break here and there to make some tea and have something to eat) from 7:30 in the morning until 9:00 last night. I had a deadline, and the story was giving me some trouble.

My bed never got made, I did run the dishwasher, but didn't wipe down the counters or do any other household chores. I briefly talked to my brother and my mom, and fed my cat, but that was about it. I truly couldn't fit anything or anyone else in and make my deadline.

I've been thinking more about this since it was brought to my attention that I don't seem to be willing or able to make time in my life for a relationship. It sounds crazy, but I really don't know how you do it all. How do you make room in your life for someone who has every right to want time with you, when you're trying to make the near-impossible happen? My goal: To become a successful published author with many books to my credit. That doesn't happen without tremendous commitment, effort and time.

My friend, best-selling author Claire Cook , does it all well. But I think it helps that she was already in a long-term marriage when she began her writing career so she wasn't trying to date while birthing five novels. She's also married to a great guy who is incredibly supportive and proud of what she's doing.

My daughter is coming home tomorrow for a week. I will admit that my children are the exception in my workaholic ways. Though that said, I get up early and write while she sleeps, and anytime she's doing something else I'm right back at it. She is also the reason I will file my story, (soon I hope) drag the vacuum out and finally fold the two loads of clean laundry piled into a basket on the floor.

I used to pride myself on being an award-winning multi-tasker, and I've seen I'm not anymore. Possibly because you can't write and do dishes at the same time. If I come up with a way to do that, it might solve a lot of my problems. But for now I have to make choices, and the house is second to work. As is trying to factor in any kind of relationship apparently.

For now I think I just have to be singly focused. It's not forever, but for now. And after an adult lifetime of putting my three children first, I think it's not such a bad thing to put what I want to achieve at the front of the line. At least until one of them needs me, then all bets are off.

The Vah Jay Jay Chronicles

All right, so yesterday I had a busy day madly seeking sources for a story, pulling together a non-fiction pop culture book proposal, mailing it off to a publisher, and trying to decide if I want to open myself up even further (pun soon to be revealed) and enter a competition I was asked to participate in.

Now I'm as competitive as the next writer, well, kind of, but the topic gave me pause. This is for a show to be performed in New Jersey (that's not the reason for the hesitation, though in the middle of summer on Cape Cod I often have many unkind thoughts about the good folks of New Jersey). The topic of the competition was something I'd never explored. At least as a writer.

The competition is writing monologues for a show called "Viva Vagina." Yeah, not my usual beat.

I went through my files trying to find something that I remembered writing a few years ago, but I couldn't find it, so I began noodling around with some thoughts. My leaning was more toward something happy, fun, sexy and not super serious - that's better left to writers without my light voice.

As I typed, deleted and typed again I couldn't find the right rhythm (sorry, they just keep coming, oops, there I go AGAIN!) or voice. Everything I typed sounded like something from a bad Harlequin Romance or cheesy soft-core porn. Suddenly I found myself with a new-found respect for those who can write steamy prose and not sound like a ho. How I wished I had the writing chutzpah of Diablo Cody, but I found myself blushing as I tried to, in a funny way recount an incident in my fairly recent past.

I happened to be e-mailing with my ex-boyfriend while I was doing this and told him about the contest. I immediately got an e-mail back asking if he could read my monologue when it's done. So the pressure is on. As a fellow writer his input (uh huh) could be quite helpful, but it's a little weird to think of him reading this piece, far more disquieting than a panel of strangers judging me. This was a person who was there, he'd know the truth, not my gossamer remembrances, and his memories may be far less kind. This is seeming like such a not-so-good idea as I write this. I think I should stick to pop culture.

But I love a good challenge as a writer, and I am sort of excited (oh yes, I went there) by topics that push my comfort zone a bit, and this is certainly doing that. I figure I have nothing to lose. My adult children never read anything I write whether it's this blog or a newspaper or magazine article, so I'm safe from humiliating them, and if I did per chance win, it's not going to be here where my mom or friends could see it, so that's good.

So I'm going to spend some time today writing about something extremely personal in hopes that maybe in some weird way it will empower other women over 40 to realize they're still hot and sexy. And in all seriousness, the mission of the now-classic "Vagina Monologues" was to take away the shame women felt about their bodies. Yeah, I'll focus on that while I'm blushing at my computer.