A Week of *Winning*

I know, I know; Long time no blog. Let's skip the formalities of me explaining myself and just jump right in as to why the week of March 14 will from here until forever be known as a Mondo Winner.

Let's start with the newly single and ready to mingle Bradley Cooper on the Actors Studio. Hummena hummena. Not only was he, you know, cray cray gorgeous, he was a giant ball of emotion. An exposed nerve. A smushy face crybaby. And it was A-mazing. I officially lurv, loave, luff him, and I shall see his new movie despite the fact that it will most likely be completely ridiculous. He deserves my money. Nom nom nom.

Ok next. I've started the Couch to 5k program. During our last group gathering in Tuscaloosa, my girl, Adrienne, mentioned a marathon/half marathon coming up in December in Memphis, and folks were gung-ho about it. Um. That's a long way. And I don't run. And a half marathon as a first race is the equivalent as a virgin's first time being a gang bang. So yeah, I'm starting small. And you can tell I'm committed because I actually paid money for the app.

And this week I finished Week 3. You see that little green light? That means I finished. Winner. Although, the thought of running 5 minutes (Seriously. I'm a walker, y'all), this week kinda scares the crap out of me. Whatevs. It can and shall be done.

Sister Wives is back. Hell to the yes.

And then there's this.

Oh. My. Lord. It finally happened. Amazing, magical Kurt and Blaine smoochfest. Which I have admittedly watched like 73 times. I swear, every time that little hand of Kurt's raises and those fingers fan I swoon. For real, swoons. Congratulations, Klaine. You've entered the arsenal of kisses including "in the rain Garden State," "on the mountain Man from Snowy River," and "in a dream and on the beach Sea Inside" as inexplicably perfect, stomach-tingling and yummy.

On the non-winning side, I'm trying to watch Inception. Which is demanding and tiring. All I want is for Leo to speak in a Southie accent, Joseph Gordon-Levitt to break into a song and dance number and for Ellen Page to be preggers and say "pork swords." None of these things are happening. I don't approve.

But to make up for it, the universe is providing E!'s "documentary" on how Charlie Sheen became bat shit crazy. Winning!