Those who have actually seen me will be convulsing with laughter and courting bladder failure when they learn that I can tell one of my next addictive songs; "Baby Mama" by Fantasia Barrino. First off, the obvious stuff: great beat, sung by Fantasia, and it’s a song sung by someone who can relate to the lyrics. Love this song, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to one day hear it as a Lifetime movie theme song. Hey, do they need a scriptwriter?

Though as husband and I agreed last night, we are extremely married and over thirty. Our entertainment last night consisted of discussing our jobs (him chef, me writer,) the fact that it’s never a good thing for the cable guy to have to call for backup, and if said cable guy utters the phrase "I can’t figure out why this isn’t working," it doesn’t inspire confidence. Also, if the cat busts out of the bedroom twice while the cable guy is there, give up all pretenses and carry her around the apartment for two hours like a baby. It’s the only way to peace.

After discussion of that, we segued into husband’s new toys; two computer games. Husband is computer game addict, and I think it’s adorable. Amazing graphics on some mafia game; he warned me I would hate this game, but if the intro were a movie, I’d watch it. It has a Sorvino in it – this thing has real actors, very neat. Other computer game truly shows our age. Atari. Yep, Atari. I made husband open Pong, and I was instantly whisked back to the Shoenfeltzer twins’ basement, where I met the very first Atari I had ever seen. He was enthralled with Missle Command. I made him witness both a death and a birth in The Sims2 (same family, too, the Goths. RIP Mortimer, welcome baby Valentina.)

Which leads to the opener of this entry. If he got a toy, then I get a toy, and since it’s well known that the next puter game I want is the Sims2 University expansion, he played shamelessly on my American Idol addiction. (American Idol, Survivor and Lost are the never-miss, even if the TV is on fire shows in our family) Dear sweet man got me Fantasia’s Free Yourself CD, and I am bathing in the bliss. This woman has the talent, the range, the presence. Can I be the her of romance novels, even though I am caucasian, thirtycoughcoughmumble, married, not a mama (wait, does being a cat mama count?) nor ever having met Simon Cowell in person? Though he can join my crit group if he wants. I’m sure I could use it.