Things have been a bit hectic what with the full time gig, the holidays and whatnot. But the holidays are pretty much over and, with any luck, I will remain gainfully employed for the foreseeable future. So my choices as I see them are either make some time to write or bail and bailing is just not an option. Remind me to Google time management later. Do you think that they sell extra hours in the day on Amazon? They sell everything else.

I have found time, of course, to watch the Real Housewives of everywhere, my daily DVR’d dose of The Young and the Restless and many episodes of Hoarders and Intervention. I did draw the line at the Hoarders episode for which the trailer promised an infestation of rats. A possum or two, many cat carcasses and piles of unidentified feces are apparently fair game, but a man covered in rats, not so much. Good to know I have limits.

Speaking of good/bad TV, The Bachelor has returned to prime time and brought with it my car-wreck-gapers-reflex. But other than a fang toothed model, a dentist in a bad gold lame dress (with yellow tulle??) and your garden variety Fatal Attraction gal named Michelle (is it the name?), there might not be enough crazy to keep my interest. Oh who am I kidding? I will watch. I always watch.

In actual news, mah beloved Bears are participating in the biggest football game to hit the Midwest in about seventy years on Sunday and I can hardly eat. We are playing the Green Bay Packers, our (and I realize that I am not part of the team, but I choose to use the collective anyway) arch-enemy, for the NFC Championship title and a ticket to that big game that must not be mentioned lest we jinx ourselves. It is a wonder I have been able to focus long enough to write this. But I am on probation and I wouldn’t want to risk ticking off my boss.

As a Bachelorette, I find Ali to be stiff. Her fake laugh is already irritating me and the coy way she covers her mouth is, well, not all that coy. It is me or is she in a permanent state of shrug? I guess it was cold during last night’s episode because everyone offered her their jacket, but when she wasn’t wearing a man’s suit coat, her shoulders seemed all hunched up. Maybe I will grow to like her more, but so far I really don’t care how this ends up for her. I am watching purely for the eye candy and the drama.

That being said, the first episode of The Bachelorette did not disappoint. I already have two favorites: Roberto, or Robert – O as he said he could be called, and Chris L. Roberto is just hot. And Chris? Well who doesn’t love a landscaper from the Cape who moved home to be with his mom in her last year of life?

The duds, however, they are aplenty. There seems to be a plethora of over exuberance this season as well as some really bad 80′s hair. The weatherman, the back flipper and the jack-in-the-limo were all a little over the top for my tastes. And that nice fellow who made Ali a scrapbook, he can’t possibly make it past next week, right? What does it say about those who didn’t make the cut this week when the scrapbooker got a rose and they didn’t. For at least one of them it said that you are an ambulance chaser who wears his pants way too high and his hair way too long. Yeah, you didn’t “bring it”, but I am not sure you had “it” to bring.

The highlight though – the best of – the panties in the pocket of The Bachelorette series has got to be “Shooter”. Who in their right mind would think that a nickname based on a sexual disfunction would be endearing? “Hey, so this one time in college?” “Did I mention that they also called me “Noodle” and “Stumpy” and that I basically just suck in bed?” And the poor guy was all bummed when he got the axe, really? Really? Oh, and not only did he expose his secret to the Bachelorette but that was on national television – so good luck with that whole dating thing when he gets home. I am sure none of the girls in his home town watched. He’ll be fine.

This season promises to be full of drama with tears, secret girlfriends and an ambulance, if the teasers are to be believed. I’m in. Let’s face it – you had me at Canadian Entertainment Wrestler.

• Do some drivers really believe that if they pretend to have no peripheral vision they are excused from letting other cars into their lane?

A message to said drivers: Just because you act as though you can’ t see me does not mean that I actually cease to exist. It does, however, make me want to ram my car into yours repeatedly. It is your good fortune that I think better of it because you are usually driving a late model Dodge and I am not. That, and I actually have limited impulse control.

• Why would someone return a call from a random number on their caller id? Part 2: Why would you place said call without listening to the message the caller left?

I freely admit that if I don’t recognize a phone number, I will not answer the call. This applies to both my land line and my cell. I just figure that if the call is important, the caller will leave a message.

In the course of my job I have occasion to call many people for whom I have to leave a message. A fair number of these people call back and say “Yeah, I just missed a call from this number?” To begin with “yeah” is not a greeting, but that is a rant in and of itself. While I see how this might appear to be a time saving procedure for the caller, it is really a waste of time. If they had listened to the message that I just left they would know not only where the call had originated, but what the call was about. And more importantly, they would be prepared to respond accordingly. I just can’t imagine the circumstances that would prompt me call back a random number to see who had called me. If no message is left, I assume that the call was either a wrong number or from a solicitor, neither of which interest me at all.

• While this is more statement than question, it is every bit as important as the previous questions (not at all, that is). I am so very relieved to have survived another season of The Bachelor and to not have to hear the following references/phrases ad nauseum until, of course, next season:

1) The “journey” to find love. Seriously – blech! Enough with everyones’  journey already. Next season let’s use the word “quest”, OK? That way it will be abundantly clear that we are over inflating the importance of each contestant’s role in a dating show.

2) “Opening my heart” or “being open to love” or conversely “being closed off” – What are you people, women or armoires?

3) “Falling for”, ”falling in love” and all variations of falling as well as any reference to “soul mates” or “belonging to or with” one another. You people just met and are spending time together in the least realistic environment ever. This, my poor delusional friends, is infatuation – not love. And are you at all familiar with this show? Less than 10% of these ”in love” matches have lasted three months past the Final Rose. Your chances are better at a bar or at the car wash.

Thank you, I feel better, Carry on.

Now on to more pressing nonsense: The Bachelor. Last week’s episode shocked and entertained everyone with the expulsion of the wide eyed (and clearly innocent “What producer?”) Rozlyn who, had she remained on the show, would have definitely been crowned “Most Hated Girl in the House”. Being one who enjoys her reality television with maximum drama, I could have used a more explicit definition of  which line was crossed and with whom, but never mind. As it turned out the highlight for me was watching this season’s resident bunny boiler, Michelle, gloat in the satisfaction that at least one of her unworthy adversaries had been outed.

Monday night’s show actually gave me reason to admire our hero Jake and start disliking almost all the girls. I was really impressed and delighted that he shut down the two women who were trying to test or tease him. Crazy-deperate Michelle attempted to get Jake to beg her to stay and he flatly refused, showing her the door (of a cab). As much as I admire his impatience with her game play, I am afraid that he also reduced crazy quotient for the remainder of the season. The other young lady whose bubble burst unexpectedly was Elizabeth. After reading Jake a note saying that she would refrain from any lip locking activity until or unless she was the last girl standing, she repeated told him how much she wanted to kiss him, what a good kisser she was and so on and so on. The absurd moment came when Jake called her on this behavior and she tried to say that he was pressuring her to kiss him. Really? Are you that dim, Elizabeth? Next she’ll be telling People Magazine that he let her go because he knew she wouldn’t put out in the Fantasy Suite episode. Puh-leeeze. Both of these bimbos had their bluffs called and I totally enjoyed it.

Which brings me to the element of The Bachelor that I am not enjoying at all this season: the “group hate”. There is bound to be conflict between women in a house who are all compteting for the attentions of the same guy, I get that. Further, I haven’t really formed any opinion of Vienna (the object of the group hate) other than to question her parent’s choice of names (it is a sausage, people). She doesn’t seem mean spirited to me, just clueless. And while I am convinced she had no idea what she was apologizing for, she tried and the mean girls rejected her apology. It all feels very high school and makes me squirm. It’s too bad because the meanest of the mean girls, Ali, was my favorite until this week.

Now that I have gotten all that off my chest, I am definitely going to look into getting one of those “life” things I hear so much about. They have those at Costco, don’t they?

Beyond being the usual women, desperate enough to actually be on this show, this group of bachelorettes keeps talking about winning. The idea is to meet your soul mate, right? There is no actual prize that I am aware of. The bachelorettes aren’t crowned or anything, are they? Have they added a cash prize? Nope, I checked. The prize is just the schmoopy pilot guy.

Let’s face it; no one questioned it when Jillian kicked Jake to the curb last season. We all felt the same way she did (with the exception of these 25 gals). I mean, he is not bad to look at (the producers have made impossible to miss his abs), but sadly he speaks. And when Jake speaks I get a little queasy. Particularly when he reminds us that women always tell him he is too nice a guy. We get that he isn’t a bad boy, but no one wants an alter boy. And the motorcycle doesn’t give him an edge. With him on it somehow a Harley looks like a K car.

I haven’t dated in a while, but do most women cry when someone doesn’t call them for a second date?  Because essentially that is what happened to the first episode’s eliminated bachelorettes, there was no second date. Several of these women wept over that fact. They cried because a virtual stranger rejected them and not after an actual date, but after a cattle call. This may prove beyond a reasonable doubt that women must be somewhat desperate or unbalanced or a nice mix of both to be on this show. For that matter, we, the (begrudgingly) loyal viewing audience, may actually fit in to our own version of that category.

But of course, I can’t help myself. Seriously, this is his marketing strategy for selling records? Get on a popular reality dating show and lie your way into the heart of the unsuspecting bachelorette? I am personally not a big fan of liars and cheaters (or of country music for that matter). I don’t watch Woody Allen movies and have never felt the same about Meg Ryan since her affair with Russell Crowe. I think this was a flawed plan. And gloating about his “accomplishments” in the limo – that was priceless. I don’t know who his target market is, but I think he seriously miscalculated when he chose the viewing audience of the Bachelorette.

The remaining three bachelors are all attractive, interesting and viable choices. Reid is kind of adorable and anyone who is that upfront about his neuroses can’t be all bad. Kypton is cute and adventurous and seems like a good fit for Jillian and he can’t really be held accountable for his parents’ questionable choice in names. And lastly while he is clearly career driven, Ed ‘s reappearance shows that he is at least willing to consider putting Jillian before his Blackberry.

I am, once again, looking forward to the “most dramatic rose ceremony ever” (how do they keep topping themselves like that?). By now I have resigned myself to the fact that Jillian will not marry any of these characters, but I am still invested in her choice. And as the first bachelorette in the show’s history who actually had the good sense not to accept the invitation to the fantasy suite with all of men, I have some faith that she will chose someone who will make her happy for a time. None of these guys are snowboarders, right?

I have been going to the same stylist for about ten years, so this behavior is not really new to her. This was one of my longest stretches, but I have never been good at hair that required regular upkeep. I checked in from time to time for the occasional bang cut but only because they really wouldn’t be bangs anymore if I hadn’t. The downside of having gone to my stylist this long is that with her years of experience, her prices have risen. I suppose I could go to another stylist, but that at this point that would require a therapist and potentially an attorney. We’ve been through too much together: we have gone from renters to owners, single to married and now she is a mom.

So because one can’t cut and color one’s own hair (anymore) I had to wait until our domestic budget had an available surplus. Once I recovered from the scorn of the other stylists and had the averted the judgmental glances of the other patrons, I sat back and let my gal do her thing. And her thing is really transforming. The upside of waiting six months to have your hair cut and colored is that you leave feeling like you have just shot an episode of Extreme Makeover, Goat Herder.

Sure Ashton Kutcher achieved his lofty aspiration of attaining one million followers on Twitter.

Eh.

And CNN did the same shortly thereafter.

Big whoop.

Oprah sent her first tweet.

I was more moved when she pierced her ears.

I wanted to enjoy or get worked up about The Cougar, TV Land’s new reality dating show. It is recorded on my DVR, but I happened to catch the end of the show live. This show’s version of the rose ceremony was so icky that I can’t bring myself to watch the rest of the program. The idea of an older woman dating a bunch of younger men sounded fun, but the men are too young and the show is just creepy. Not as creepy as that transsexual dating show on LOGO, but I only watched that a couple of times. And that was just because Bob’s old super-Christian personal trainer was one of the bachelors vying for his/her attentions.

It is worth noting that my version of current events has nothing to do with anything of import. Don’t be so quick to judge, though. I totally care that two people are going to be voted off American Idol next week because the judges chose to save the talented but sort of lame, Matt Giraud. So see, I am not completely out of touch.

In the most selfish and ill-conceived rose ceremony in Bachelor history, Jason Mesnick proposed to Melissa. This is the same guy we were all sorry for last season when he got down on bended knee only to have Deanna Pappas reject him. Now I wish she had given him a little kick when he was down there causing him to topple over and really be humiliated.  That is pretty much what he did to Melissa. In the post-finale show he broke off the engagement and asked Molly, the other finalist to forgive his mistake.

Now I know many people (my husband included) find it almost cheating when the Bachelor doesn’t propose in the final show. They give the “engagement” ring as a promise ring, don’ t present a ring or choose neither woman and run a la Brad Womack. But given the track record of this pimping fiasco maybe that is not such a bad thing. Jason could have restrained from trying to be such a knight in shining armor. He could have done something not so dramatic and in turn, not so devastating, particularly given his own history with the show. As much as eveyone railed on him at the time, Brad Womack is looking hero-ish right about now. He at least lead no one on.

I also feel compelled to comment on Jason’s Super Dad status. Involving his son in this whole process might have seemed like a necessary evil, but I can’t help but think that there were other ways to see how these women were with children. Involving your three year old son in a marriage proposal that you weren’t going to follow through with was short sighted. I don’t have children, but my parents divorced when I was young and I spent many years with revolving girlfriends and boyfriends. It is sad and confusing to have adults come and go in your life that way. His title of Super Dad is hereby revoked (by virtue of the authority that I just granted myself).

I get that Jason figured out a little too late that the passion he felt for Molly was more compelling that whatever he felt for Melissa. I also get that he would have done no favors to anyone by going through the motions for any length of time. But none of that makes me dislike him any less. And really, did all of this have to be done on camera? Couldn’t the disintegration of this relationship play out in People Magazine the way all the others have. I don’t know if the lack of a studio audience really shielded Melissa in any way. She was, you know, on television.

In closing, let me say that I may be done with the Bachelor for good now. At least I should be, but, pathetically, I enjoy watching a bunch of champagne soaked mean girls being held hostage for my entertainment and, romantically, I keep waiting for a happy ending.

Our everyday communication began to suffer as well.

Me: “Oh you know her. She loves bad boys.”

Bob: “Bat boys? Really?”

Me: “Yes, that is what I said. My thirty six year-old girlfriend has a a big thing for the twelve year-old boys who chase the bats at Wrigley Field.” (Another thing that I can be other than naggy is sarcastic.)

My aunt, God love her, who is hard of hearing herself, gave Bob a pair of cordless headphones for Christmas. These have been a gift for us both. Watching television together became more tolerable, but conversation came to a stand still. When he had to remove the headphones each time I had a thought (which of course I had to share) it became annoying.

In any event, the nagging commenced. I rode him like a very crabby cowgirl to get his hearing checked. He was resistant in part because his brother suffers from hearing loss and wears hearing aids. His brother was also in a band, I reminded him. And todays’ hearing aids, have you seen them?  They are next to invisible.

Bob finally acquiesced and had his hearing tested. Great right? The results: he has almost no hearing loss except in the higher pitches that would be – like – oh – WOMENS’ VOICES.

So let’s see how this worked out for me:

1. The volume on the television doesn’t change.
2. I am proven wrong – a very irritating conclusion.
3. Bob now has a doctor’s note to ignore me
4. All of the above was due to my nagging.

Bob: 1

Diana: 0