Our little Miss America viewing party this past Saturday night was THE MOST FUN, mainly because everybody’s comments were hysterical. It was definitely a multi-media viewing experience, and between updating the blog post, reading the comments, and responding to texts, I thought, Gosh. This is exactly how I watched the pageant back in 1978 when I could talk to one person at a time on the rotary dial phone and my parents still had an antenna on their TV and we had to use one of those clicky things to make the signal stronger.

Technology is a kick, y’all.

I still don’t understand why Miss Texas didn’t win, and a college friend of mine may or may not have been so outraged by Miss Texas’ absence from the Top 5 that they promptly clicked over to the Miss America pageant’s Facebook page and LET THEIR THOUGHTS BE KNOWN. As for me, I’ve never been less accurate in my Top 5 predictions than I was Saturday, so apparently my finger is no longer on the pulse of the Miss America program. I’m saddened and confused.

The other big development this past Saturday (besides Mississippi State’s basketball win over Alabama, of course) is that I realized that my contact lenses were feeling a little dry. Usually this is my sign that it’s time to put in a new pair of lenses, only, HOLD ON, I FORGOT TO RE-ORDER THEM.

In light of this tragic turn of events (oh, how I do enjoy the hyperbole), I decided that wearing my glasses for a few days wasn’t the worst thing in the world (sidenote: I cannot mention eyeglasses without thinking about Jan Brady refusing to wear her eyeglasses and, as a result, careening into the garage on her bicycle and slamming into the hidden family portrait and SURELY SHE LEARNED HER LESSON). I wore my glasses most of Saturday, and that night, when I got ready to take off my make-up, I saw my skin with a whole new level of contact-free clarity.

And y’all. All I know to say is that it was humbling. I’ve been trying a new line of skin care stuff (I’ll share all the details once I’m sure whether or not I’m going to stick with it), so I know that what I saw in the mirror Saturday night is better than what I would’ve seen a month ago, but all I could think of was Dear Self? WHAT HAPPENED? I felt like every pore on my face was big enough to apply for statehood, not to mention that there are some little dry bumps underneath my eyes that I’ve never seen before. It was all I could do not to pour a whole vial of Retinol on my face and hope for a fresh start, but I restrained myself since I didn’t want to go to church Sunday morning with half of my face peeling off.

What I did do, though, was to carve out some time Sunday afternoon for a little trip to Sephora. I made a beeline for all the skin care products at the back of the store, and the nice sales clerk had barely gotten the words, “Ma’am? May I help you with something?” out of her mouth before I whirled around with a serious case of the crazy eyes and said, “OH YES PLEASE BECAUSE I AM IN DIRE NEED OF SOME EXFOLIATION.”

For the next 30 minutes I nearly bored that sweet girl to tears with tales of my very specific skin care needs and issues and requirements and concerns. In the end she recommended an all-natural / made-from-some-special-trees-somewhere / completely-free-of-parabolaoctagon-something-or-other gentle exfoliator that’s supposed to make my skin better and also solve the world economic crisis. SO WE’LL SEE.

Finally, I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned this before or not, but right after Christmas I discovered that Nick at Nite shows four (FOUR!) episodes of Friends every single night (EVERY SINGLE NIGHT!). I promptly set the DVR to record all of them, and while I’ve tried my best to stay caught up (re-watching the episodes about Ross’ wedding to Emily was an especially delightful time), I dropped the TV ball last week and got a little behind. Which is why there are currently 23 episodes of Friends on our DVR. And it’ll be 27 by midnight tonight.

So if you need to find me, I’ll be right here, trying to catch up on Friends, lamenting the fact that Miss Texas was ROBBED, I TELL YOU, ROBBED, all the while obsessively exfoliating my face and awaiting the arrival my new contacts.

I’m just livin’ the dream, people.

Just livin’ the dream.

This was probably the first time in my life that I realized that dance could be worshipful. It still gives me goosebumps.

Absolutely beautiful.

I think this is the third time I’ve posted this video on my blog.

Why?

BECAUSE IT COMPLETES ME.

Lemme get this straight.

She can control two dummies/puppets/whatever-you-call-them, remain utterly poised, rock a one-shoulder sequin jumpsuit and yodel without moving her mouth?

Somebody needs to give that girl a crown.

You know how sometimes characters in movies will decide that they want to pursue something with their whole heart? So they’ll resolve to be the very best gymnast or lawyer or inventor or football player that the world has ever seen? And then the audience will see a minute-long montage of their progress, starting with the first grueling days of training, then cutting to a point where they become pretty competent but are still easily frustrated, then cutting to a moment where they’re gaining some confidence (complete with a slow grin that lets the audience know YES! I’M DOING THIS!), then cutting to a moment where they realize HEY! I AM TOTALLY A CONTENDER NOW! I MADE IT!, then cutting to a scene where they’re waiting in the wings for the big gymnastics meet / mock trial / robotics contest / National Championship game?

You know how they do that in movies?

Well, I would really like to see one of those montages for a singing ventriloquist who’s preparing for the Miss America pageant.

The end.