Linkety Dinkety Doo: Give-Away Goodness

There's nothing like bloggy time-wasters to help you coast from mid-week into red appletini night out with the grrrls. And if you can snag something sweet for yourself (OK, and maybe the kiddos, which often -- let's admit -- is really more for you), then it isn't really a waste, is it?

So that all you have to do on Valentine's Day is stand there and look pretty. Or stand there holding GoGurt and mozzarella sticks and the baby's woobie and three pacis and an extra fleece jacket and the umbrella stroller and a giant cup of coffee...and look pretty. Courtesy the fashionistas at Silicon Valley Moms Blog and Gail Schneider loveliness.

So that when you finally pack 'em all up and in, you can get away smoothly and sassily. Gotta love GoodyBlog.

So that you can quickly, easily, creatively send off pics and vids of the kids to the in-laws, your grrrlfriends and whoever else is willing to watch all those hysterical moments previously trapped in your digital camera. Thanks to the mamas at Mums the Word.

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Awwww yeah, Idol's back

I haven't been watching a lot of TV lately. Since I'm sharing it with my parents and their slight obsession with home improvement, home buying and home selling shows that come in two or three similar flavors with two or three slightly-varied names, that's mostly what I see. The writer's strike has helped ease the shakes of prime time withdrawal, as has not being able to record any shows to watch during ridiculously late hours.

But that's all about to change now that American Idol's back on. For the love of Daughtry, I just can't help myself. For the sweet sweet country crooning of Carrie Underwood, I can't tear myself away from even the awful auditions and embarrassing people all caked in glitter cream and unrealistic dreams of pop greatness.

While Lil E was wondering where Gina was in the line of people auditioning, I was worried about this disillusioned boy who got uncomfortable and uncontrollable laughter from Paula and Randy.

But the hopeful (and I clearly use that term loosely) that I can't stop thinking about is this guy. Was he kidding? I mean, is this guy too Borat to be real or what?

And did he really say that he wants to love a good woman from the hair down to their nipple? And that his current girlfriend says he is a "sexyface" and he's good with that? Maybe it was the intense rendition of that BeeGees song that made me wonder.

I'm just surprised producers didn't follow that up with a plea for this Yuka dude to wrestle nakey with some big hairy man they pulled out of line for some montage segment.

Ohhhhnonononono. And what I mean by that is, Oh yes. Oh hell yes. I'm not even missing awkward Izzie-George sex with this goodness going on. 

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Things I've Seen at Starbucks: Dude, REFILLS!

Maybe I'm a little slow on the uptake these days, maybe I've been too busy contemplating whether I will have a giant steaming mug of Joy tea with eight packages of honey and a splash of milk or I'm going to really crank it out with a whatever-they-have-ready-to-go coffee to thunk into a hypodermic needle and mainline with a too much half-and-half.

I have been spending a lot of time in Starbucks lately, working, staring into space, seeing how many of my Gmail contacts have finally gotten their previously soooo 2007 selves on Facebook. That means, I purchase my fair share of overpriced coffee drinks. So how - HOW?! - did I not know there are cheapy refills?

Could it be because the 55-cent refill on any size (you read that right) regular coffee isn't posted anywhere? Not even in fine print where the kiddie-sized drinks are hidden?

Perhaps because the baristas who know my name and drink and bring me the little samples of pumpkin bread laced with little perfect dollops of whipped cream don't offer me in to those kinds of insider tips?

Maybe because I've been too busy feeling exotic and interesting for ordering four different kinds of coffee beverages rather than just asking if I could spend all the change buried in the crevices of my laptop bag rather on a 2-cent "bold and elegant" java du jour?

I suppose it doesn't matter (see? all that therapy really is helping me release the insignificant details!) and that the important thing is that I heard the gruff old grandaddy behind me in line order up a refill, saw him plunk down his 55 cents and smile smugly, knowingly while I added another paper cup to the collection on my table.

It doesn't matter because today I confirmed that I can, in fact, order up a refill as long as I stay in the store and bring back my paper cup. I even smiled gratefully as the sweet barista told me that there is a two-hour time limit but (shhh...) they never set a timer. Now, I'm ready.

With my steadily sipped down venti Komodo Dragon and my quarters neatly stacked beside me, I am ready for a little Starbucks usurping. Viva la refill revolution, my friends! Viva la venti!

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