Dang, what is UP with all the spam I'm getting!?? Do you know that one of them used MY OWN WEB ADDRESS, so when I went to de-spam, it was added to the MT spammer jerk clearinghouse!?? Bastards. I guess after the holidays, I'm going to have to ditch the bitch and make the switch to EE after all.

In the story I wrote yesterday, the speaker (Rudy Lopez, a pal o'mine) made the comment, "They think that just because the candidate's name ends in -ez, every rice and bean eater is going to come out and vote for them." I asked Rudy if I could quote him on that, and he said "Yeah." So I wonder why the copy desk cut out that part?*

Tonight is the Merrillville Town Ball, and once again I get to cover it for an hour before I have to split to make deadline. This year's ensemble? A black suit I bought last night when Tara and I had a total girls' night of shopping and eating out. I'll post pics.

Speaking of shopping, how wrong is it that I don't completely hate Britney's "Fantasy" perfume? It smells just like cotton candy.

that I can't get enough of the gyros I'm having for lunch and am fighting off the urge to rub it all over my naked bod? Just curious.

So at the airport meeting this morning, one of the board members says to me as I went to see what was left in the Dunkin' Donuts box they always supply for the meetings, "Hey, you don't need that!" in a kidding-yet-not-really voice, right? So I stopped for a minute and then sweetly said back, "So what're you trying to say, there, (smug jackass who I hated back in college)?" thinking that would shut his cakehole. It didn't: "Just trying to keep everyone healthy, here." And then -- THEN -- fucker has the nerve to say to me, "Oh, so you did take something." Yeah, I took the jelly one, assface.

Wtf, old man? Could you BE any ruder? Sheesh.

You know who's not rude and totally cool and wonderful? Shelly at 45th Optical in Munster. Know why? Because the minute we decided the bitchin' new frames I got last year were totally hot, she took them off the shelves so no one else could copy me. She does that for clients SHE LIKES, you know. How awesome is THAT? So yeah, 45th Optical in Munster for your optometric needs, yo. You might not get my badass frames, but you'll get something just as cool.

Anyone familiar with comedian Louis CK? I was over at Tara and Sean's Saturday night, and we watched him on one of their 16 HBO channels. He does this whole bit about how guys can't masturbate in their own homes after they get married, but women get to make this big production of it, which I was kind of like, "Um ... noooo, I don't think I've ever made a big production of my masturbatory proclivities." But the visual was priceless, especially the one of him hiding behind the water boiler in the basement to toss one off. His deadpan delivery reminds me much of our good friend Opie ... or maybe it's that both of them have red hair. Still, good stuff., that.

There's some dude walking around the cul-de-sac with what looks like a manilla folder packed with stuff. Wonder what his story is, but not so much that I'll answer the door if he comes a-ringing; ol' girl's gotta take a nap.

See, the thing about my job is, I don't make a whole lot of money doing it. But my perks can't be beat, and one of those perks, besides working in my jammies and talking to rockstars, is free lunches at swanky places. So when I go to cover a luncheon, I can expect at the very least some sort of fancy chicken thing with veggies and dessert, and if I'm REAL lucky, I get beef medallions or beef tenderloin like I did the other night.

Not today, though. In the spirit of healthy eating, all that was provided were ham and turkey sandwiches, fruit and some sort of soup that scared me when I looked at it. (It was the color of chicken broth, yet it was cloudy and sort of thick, and I couldn't see anything resembling vegetables or meat. For all I know, it could've been chicken-flavored Cream of Wheat.)

Sigh.

The real gyp? The models who were showing off their fantastic weight losses got meatballs in red sauce and veggies and dip in THEIR quarters.

And now, for my rendition of "The Walk of Shame":

Here are my choices for tonight: Telling y'all about how Mother not respecting any boundaries I set directly correlates with a decision I made today, or going back to my favorite watering hole at the behest of its owner to partake in revelery at the White Sox' imminent win.

Much to my surprise -- and even more to my delight -- there's really no contest. Nighty-night, y'all.

[UPDATE: Now that they've won, shaddap, you.]

Anyone catch Nip/Tuck last night!?? I'm STILL trippin'.

Any ideas as to who the Carver is? Could it be Sean? Or is it the anesthesiologist? I thought it might be her at first, but then she wasn't there during the search of Christian's crib, so I don't know why she's be all pissed off at Kit.

Thoughts, anyone?

Check this out: There's this new blog devoted to Hoosiers and their politics, etc. -- Lookit. Our new pal Chris had a link to it, so I checked it out and and found that there was plenty of stuff from all over the state of Indiana, but aside from Chris and as per usual, not a dogdamn thing about NWI. So I wrote them and said, "Y'all need more voices from NWI -- how about me!??" And lo! The Trib god (read: the very lovely guy who runs the Trib who also happens to be an ex-reporter himself) looked up the Broad and said, "She is awesome!" and has included me. And -- and! -- he excerpted a portion of my entry about the Mike Doughty show! Must say I'm excited about that, especially since in light of the new redesign that I'm going to be getting in a couple weeks ... (Yes, we're embarking on aNOTHER redesign, but this time Reese is going to do it, and she's not a retard.)

The funny part, though? My entry carried a language advisory of sorts. Think that means I should talk less like a trucker?

Just got off the horn with Sammy, who shaved an hour off her time running the Chicago Marathon today. Save for the hallucinations starting before mile 11 and the need for five million ice packs, she's pleased with her performance. Of course, when asked if she was going to do it again, she said she wouldn't commit one way or the other, so my guess? She hasn't quite gotten it out of her system and will continue to make me look like fat slob for many more years to come, but what're you going to do.

I, meanwhile, survived the Republican convention in Merrillville yesterday. It wasn't a voting caucus; it was more like an all-day strategy meeting teaching the NWI Republicans how to get their message out in the state's only Democrat stronghold. Not sure if it's going to help all that much right now, but I guess they need to start somewhere. Got to talk to the Secretary of State, though; Todd and I graduated high school together. We didn't know each other back in the day, but that's because he was popular and I wasn't. (I know, can you believe it?) Anyway. So we got to talking about Patty and her bullshit, and he kind of chuckled. It was aaaallll over the Indianapolis news, he said. He also said that if y'all knew Patty, you'd know where it came from, because Patty? YOOGE Bible beater. YOOOOOGE. In fact, she resigned some of her duties as head of the health and finance committee so she could spend more time doing church stuff.

What, you're not shocked?

Confession time, although I think it's abundantly clear by nature of my location: I'm a closet gearhead. Not in an "I love cars" kind of way, and not that I'm engineering-inclined in any way, shape or form. But living 10 minutes from three different steel mills and one good-sized refinery kinda has a hand in cultivating one's taste for massive, rusty structures with fire coming out of them -- like last year when I got to watch the blast furnaces get blown up. That was some seriously cool shit.

So today, on a day when I didn't have my camera (and I bought a bigger purse last week, so I really have no excuse not to have it with me at all times), my first assignment of the day was watching a water tower extension, wherein a group of union welders blowtorched off the sphere, or head, of the water tower, lifted it up 70 feet off the ground by three giNORmous cranes and left it hanging there in mid air while another crane hoisted a new 35-foot section onto the tower's base. Lemme tell you, driving along and looking up to see this giant white bulbous thing suspended in mid air was rather disturbing. If it were the Cal City water tower, it would've been totally worse.

Know what's also disconcerting? That Amalah is now the proud ownerparent of this particular babalah. Would you get a load of the size of that guy? If you've ever seen Amalah, you know what I'm saying. He's HUGE! But perfect. Go wish them lots of joy and love.

Lessee, what, if anything, is there to tell y'all about what's going on up in Chez Broad lately? I mean, since I haven't written a real post in eleventy billion years?

Well.

Hmph.

Seriously, there's notta lotta going on these days. I was excited to find a pair of jeans AND a pair of pants that actually fit at Old Navy today (necessities, not splurges, believe me) ... got my hair cut and redyed on Saturday ... found that I have F/X in my cable package and can now watch Nip/Tuck when it isn't directly competing with Boston Legal -- oooo! ooooo! Did y'all see my actor boyfriend on The View this morning? You know, when he was talking about how a man needs to find out what his woman needs in the sack and then set the mood for her? Yum yum yum.

See? Nothing really going on.

Once again, I'm going to ride on my homegirl's coattails for her stellar job of describing the Saturday main event. But since I promised photographic evidence, here t'is:

At my meeting tonight, I was talking to one of my sources, a guy that I see once every couple months, if that. And as we were talking, he says

I think I love him.

In other news, one of my ex-boyfriends is getting indicted for embezzlement. I'm so proud.

but I need to jump in the shower, lest I fall victim to freakin' tetanus from walking in puddles near port-o-cans.

Very, VERY long day.