Me and Dave

I have an announcement to make. I intended to go to the grave with this information known only to me and to one other. Not my own grave, mind you, but the grave of Fatty Arbuckle, until I remembered that he was cremated, and his ashes were spread over the Pacific Ocean. I suppose I could have gone to the Pacific Ocean with the information, but it just wouldn't be the same without a headstone upon which to unleash my mourning and reflection. I wonder if they make floating headstones for burials at sea. If they don't I have dibs on inventing them. Don't even think about stealing my idea. Blogs are legally binding in patent court. You can look it up. I don't expect to have a grave of my own, choosing instead to fall from a cliff to be left in anonymity and natural disgrace as the wild boars of Dover feast on my corpse.

I can no longer keep my secret to take to anybody's grave, even convenient ones like that of Wally Dandrel, who put his grave on the Internet (www.wallylieshere.com). The circumstances surrounding my secret have become too volatile to hold dear, thanks to that blabbermouth, David Letterman. Since, as you may have heard in the news lately, the ex-weatherman late night funny man seems determined to scrub his dirty laundry on national television using the ancient art of monologue, not unlike the Sophoclean King Creon as he set forth a course for the demise of his own insouciant little world, I thought I had better fess up before I ended up in another Top Ten list (the other time was March 6th, 1989: Top Ten Microbial Disinfectants Used by the Supreme Court).


I had an affair with David Letterman.


There. I said it. I'm not proud of it, but I'm also not ashamed of it. He was good to me. Although our affair never made it to the orifice compromising stages many people associate with affairs, the emotions were the same, because there was magic in that hand shake on that bus that day. And like Oprah, he was gentle and tender with me and held me afterward as I wept.

I admit this now in the hopes of saving my family from further embarrassment and to keep the tabloids and paparazzi at bay. That, and I want to ensure they get my part of the story correct when the very special made for TV movie about the David Letterman Affairs is released in time for the February sweeps this television season (starring the caustic Danny Bonaduce as the ambrosial Moist Rub). I'm sure they will offer a generous royalty package for those of us who have become victims of Letterman's lechery as we are splattered across television sets worldwide. Also, look for a cameo by Richard Simmons as an anonymous shopper at Rupert Jee's Hello Deli. He's fabulous!

Demographic Awareness Month

In case you didn't notice all the pink around football stadiums this weekend (and I'm not talking about the cheerleaders), the NFL added some fab pink accents to their uniforms to promote Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

As the newest member of the mommy blogger community I'm all for breast cancer awareness, but given the typical NFL fan isn't the message a little displaced? With all the men in the audience, wouldn't prostate cancer awareness make more sense? Or given the amount of red meat being grilled up at tailgate parties outside the stadium make colon cancer awareness slightly more appropriate? I think it might take a little more prodding to get those prostate exams and colonoscopies done. Pun intended.

I'm sure all the football widows around the nation are thrilled that their husbands are offering to give them breast exams after a long day of drinking and eating bratwurst.

But seriously, take care of yourselves. See a doctor once in a while. Eat an apple. Go for a walk. Feel your boobies. And if you're a guy, you shouldn't have boobies so you might want to lay off the cheesy poofs.