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I Think The Editor Was Napping When This Story Was Posted

An article on the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel web site titled, "Packers Herron fights off home invaders," leads with this sentence:

"Green Bay Packers running back Noah Herron fought off intruders during a burglary to his Village of Howard home, striking one with a bed post that he unscrewed from his bed last weekend."

So, did Herron's home get invaded last weekend, or did he unscrew a bedpost from his bed last weekend in anticipation of a home invasion to come? Because if that's the case, then he could give Allison DuBois a run for her money.

Thus ends my geek-out for today.

Chick-Flick Weekend

I'm not much of a "girly girl." I hate dressing up, wear makeup only when I have to, and like watching baseball. However, there are a few "girly" things I enjoy, namely chick flicks and chick lit.

So you can imagine my anticipation at seeing "Sex and the City" on the big screen during its opening weekend. My friend Jenna and I ventured out to the Majestic Theater in Brookfield to take in the big-screen version of the pay cable show we both enjoyed during its six-year run. We got our tickets, then went to the snack stand and got some refreshments.

Apparently I've never before watched a movie with an audience that was 98 percent women, because I wanted to kill almost every one of them at some point during the film (Jenna excluded, of course -- you're fabulous!). The first time Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha each appeared on screen, gasps and screams filled the theater. The gasps and screams continued during almost every piece of dialoguye that was spoken between any of the characters; and, in case Jenna and I couldn't hear what was being said on the screen, a helpful woman sitting in front of us -- who we suspect had one too many cosmos -- would loudly repeat any line that she found particularly funny (she did this a lot). So, essentially, I missed probably about 15 percent of the dialogue.

Don't misunderstand me. I appreciate the fact that this movie is the ultimate "girls' night out" event that will probably ever happen in our lifetime (deer hunter widow's balls don't count because, frankly, I don't plan on marrying a deer hunter). And I appreciate friends wanting to experience the return of this beloved-by-many show, because that's exactly what my friend and I wanted to do. But most of these women behaved as if they were sitting in their homes with their girlfriends watching the show each week on HBO. Except this behavior doesn't translate well into A THEATER FULL OF PEOPLE! All I really wanted to do was watch the movie, take in every syllable, every scene, every outfit, every brief, fleeting shot of full frontal male nudity -- but these harpies in the theater wouldn't let me. I guess I didn't realize what happens during a movie watched by primarily watched by women.

Fortunately I loved the movie and will be buying it on DVD, so I'll be able to experience the movie again in the privacy and quiet of my own apartment.

* * *

After the movie Jenna I went to Texas Roadhouse for dinner -- yes, the restaurant with the "Cattle Crossing" sign right outside the ladies' room.

Jenna decided to get dessert, and then tempted me to help her finish it (what am I if not a good friend?). J ordered the "Big 'Ol Brownie," a sinful and rich warm brownie with ice cream on the top.

I started out planning to just have a forkful, but of course I ate half of it, not counting the portion that I dropped right down into my cleavage.