Miss Teen Canada Canada (a.k.a. dumb girls)

Not to worry: I haven't gone, as the cool kids say, psycho.
You know the saying: Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Check out this girl below. Brunettes of the world, say a little thank you that you weren't born blonde.
Here she is, Miss Stupide America, a.k.a. Miss South Carolina competing in the Miss Teen USA pageant.
I can't even get over how ridiculous and funny this woman is - a true leader for the U S of A!
(Ok to be fair, when I was little, I wanted to grow up to be Miss Venezuela. Don't tell anyone.)



And here is the rest of it.

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Sorry, Mama

Mothers, I am now one of you.
I’m overworked and underappreciated.
But that’s not the worst of it.
Now that I am overworked and underappreciated, I understand how overworked and underappreciated my own mother was for the 23 years I lived under her roof.
So to you, mom, and to all mothers out there, let me say this: I’m sorry for all the times, the hundreds and hundreds of times I didn’t help you.
I’m sorry. Let me count the ways.
(Why does it take having children of your own to realize just how much of a scumbag we are as children, teens and 20-somethings to our parents? I know Little Man is only five and a half months old but I can already feel this bad behaviour coming on …)

1. I’m sorry for always vanishing whenever it snowed and it was time to shovel our driveway. My hardworking father would nicely ask me if I could help out a little. “Sure,” I’d say. And then I’d do everything possible to not have to touch a flake of snow. I’d go look at photographs in our crawlspace. I’d start a conversation with my mother. I’d pretend to do schoolwork – anything to get out of helping my father, who was in his 50s when I last lived at home.

2. I’m sorry for never turning off the lights when I left a room. When I was a teenager, I honestly felt like if I had to reach up and hit the light switch, I’d just die. It would be too much exertion. I’d just die, I tell you.

3. I’m sorry for always leaving my wet towel on the bedroom floor. Hang it in the bathroom on a towel rack? The exertion! Again! It was just asking too much.

4. I’m sorry for all those times I’d get home from school and watch Geraldo, The Young and the Restless and The Ricki Lake Show and then gallingly look at you, mom and dad, as you walked in the door at 6:30 p.m. and ask: What’s for dinner?

5. I’m sorry for always leaving just a dribble of milk in the pitcher so that I didn’t have to change the bag. Exertion. Again.

6. I’m sorry for all those times you made me a nice lunch, even when I was 18 and 19 years old in high school, and I’d pitch it out once I got an offer to go out for lunch and buy a slice of pizza with friends. Waste of money. Waste of time. But it wasn’t my money or time so it never really bothered me.

7. I’m sorry for all those times you asked me to help pick up the hedge clippings as dad was shearing it. I just couldn’t help. It would have been, like, totally embarrassing for someone to see me doing yard work. Can you imagine? Oh my god.

8. I’m sorry for always leaving the table and never, once, offering to load the dishwasher or put away the leftovers.

9. I’m sorry for bringing the car home when it was basically running on empty.
10. I’m sorry for always making you wait up for me. But I was never late, right? You said my curfew was 1 a.m. and I was home, every time, at 12:59 a.m. That’s early! I should have been rewarded, no?

11. I’m sorry for making fun of your veal parmigiana that night you were just trying to make us something new, something different.

12. I’m sorry for all the times I left a room and left the TV on. It’s a lot of work, you know, having to take the remote control and press the OFF button.

13. I’m sorry it took me almost 30 bloody years to say I’m sorry.

Oh lord, this list could go on forever – but I can’t end on number 13 because my mother is superstitious and it would scare her to see a list ending on 13, so one more.

14. I’m sorry for all those times you called me when I was at university because you were missing me and I was too busy on Sunday nights watching The X Files to take your calls.

Love you.

I really do.

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Sad Feet Day

First, George Dubya beat Al Gore in the U.S. presidential race in 2000.
Then, in 2003, Ruben Studdard beat my little Clay Aiken in American Idol.
Now, Mr. Football Emmitt Smith has beat Mario Lopez on Dancing With The Stars.

Bad Americans!

I don't even know how to go on ...

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Sarah Crosbie on the Boob Tube

First, Katie Couric lands the anchor job on CBS, then Rosie O'Donnell turns up on The View, then Megan Mullally from Will & Grace gets her own daytime gig.
Next thing you know, little ol' me, Sarah Crosbie, will be on a talk show ...
Oh wait! I already am!

If you happen to land on Men TV, channel 163 in Kingston, at 2 a.m., 6 a.m. or 10 p.m., you may just catch me, chatting up a storm on topics such as: Whether It's OK for Men to Cry; Embarrassing Buys at the Drugstore; Are You Ready for Death? and Teenage Talk (Why do Children Freely use MILF and DILF? It just ain't right) on Guy Stuff with John Moore.

I taped five episodes of the show this summer in Montreal (when I was six months pregnant) and they air repeatedly on the specialty station.

It's hard to tell if the camera did add 10 pounds because there is a baby in there. The pregnancy thing is important to remember so that you know that, no, my breasts are not usually that large.

I have no idea when I'll be on next, so I guess you'll just have to watch the show every day until you see me (except you, Mom and Dad. I don't want you hearing some of the stuff we talk about it. Some of it is naughty!)

Here's a sample from one of the episodes, a segment on gaming.

(This one is PG. No MILFs here.)

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