Although this is one of those times where I’m already thinking about getting under the covers in my very comfortable bed, reading a few pages of the latest murder mystery I’ve immersed myself in, and succumbing to the laziness induced by, well, just feeling lazy on a Sunday, as well as the ice cream sandwich I just ate - I thought I’d get on the old computer and just write a post to make sure you all knew that I’m still alive and very dedicated to my blog, although I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t had the time to write a decent post.

Not that this is decent, mind you. I mean, I’ve got a few stories. Stuff to write about. J is set to defend his thesis this week, for one thing. After years of hard work, he’ll get his PhD. And we’re moving in less than a month. You know…stuff! For the moment, this less than decent post will have to suffice, but I promise I’ll get to everything else soon.

I don’t think I’m going to be able to write any blog posts or, I am ashamed to admit, do any work, until I finish the new Harry Potter book. I didn’t want it to be this way. I wanted to be better than this. Cooler. Less prone to reading frenzies involving books that I once refused to read because I “do not read children’s books.”

Luckily, as I’ve become oblivious to all other duties since starting “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows,” I’ll be done, and back to normal, soon. Back to working on kind of important things, like what I’m going to be doing for work in a month, and where we’re going to live when we move. You know, stuff like that. But I’ve decided that since I’m just going to be distracted and unable to concentrate on any activity except reading until I finish, well, then I might as well just forge ahead. Right? Yeah, that’s what I thought. I might as well read another chapter. Or twelve.

I am both proud and not proud to admit that I have a MySpace account. I could pause here and try justify MySpace by saying it’s a good “networking tool” and all that, but basically, it’s a nice distraction. A good way to waste time, or stalk people or what have you. And, I mean, that’s ok.

I’ve noticed that people post a lot of these online surveys on MySpace. You know, so you can read what their favorite kind of salad dressing is, or who they last talked to on the phone, or what they’d like to have for dinner. I never fill these out and repost them because then people would KNOW I was wasting time. Wasting time is ok if you’re employed and you need a break, but if you’re semi-employed like me and any free time should really be spent researching the job market, then you have no business filling out surveys about your personal likes and dislikes.

But since I view this blog as a very important part of my life - a place where I can practice my craft (I mean, you cannot argue with someone practicing “their craft”), I figured that filling out one of these surveys, sure, might be sort of viewed as a waste of time, but since I’m doing it on my blog, thus practicing my craft - honing my skills as a professional writer if you will - then, really, what I’m doing is probably a big career boost.

That being said, I picked this survey called “My-ology” to fill out, because of the wacky title.

MY-OLOGY

MOUTHOLOGY

What is your salad dressing of choice?
See! I knew they’d ask this question. Blue Cheese, which coincidentally has the most fat of any food on Earth, I think.

What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
Chick-fil-A (but really, Taco Bell)

What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
Too many to name but I like Lantern here in Chapel Hill.

On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
20%

What food could you eat every day and not get sick of it?
Avocados. Sushi. CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM. DORITOS!

What are your pizza toppings of choice?
Mushrooms, black olives

What do you like to put on your toast?
Orange marmalade

What is your favorite type of gum?
Honestly? Who cares, but I mean, if I must, I like Orbit.

TECHNOLOGY

Number of contacts in your cell phone?
If there is a way to count this without physically going through each listing I don’t know it and there is no way in hell I’m doing that.

Number of contacts in your email address book?
12 billion? 50 gagillion? I know plenty of people.

What is your wallpaper on your computer?
The Bay at sunrise, taken by my husband who for some crazy reason woke up at that hour.

How many televisions are in your house?
Two

Do you use a laptop or desktop?
Both

BIOLOGY

Are you right-handed or left-handed?
Right-handed

Do you like your smile?
WHAT?! Do I “like my smile”??? What kind of survey is this???

What’s your best feature?
My teeth are pretty goddamn white.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Wisdom teeth and I took out my bellybutton ring a few years ago which felt like part of my body after so long. There is also this piece of graphite stuck in my leg from when I unintentionally stabbed myself with a pencil in fifth grade. J says he’s going to remove it one day, which worries me.

Which of your five senses do you think is keenest?
I think I’m pretty good at hearing things.

When was the last time you had a cavity?
I had like a billion when I was little. Despite being white, my teeth have been fairly problematic even though I do everything right. Because we live in an unjust society.

What is the heaviest item you lifted last?
Cecilia

Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
No

BULLCRAPOLOGY (Bullcrapology!!!)

If you could, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
I can’t even imagine how neurotic I would become. Definitely no.

If you could change your first name, what would you change it to?
I wouldn’t.

What color do you think looks best on you?
Lilac. Green. And…naked.

Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
Sure

Have you ever saved someone’s life?
Every second of every day

Has someone ever saved yours?
Jesus Christ the questions are getting a little heavy…

DAREOLOGY

Would you walk naked down a public street for $100,000?
Done!

Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
Yup. Or…ahem, for free, whatever…

Would you cut off one of your little fingers for $200,000?
No way.

Would you never blog again for $50,000?
No.

Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
Yeah but there would need to be some strong drinks involved.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
I don’t know. Maybe. I’m sick of this.

Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000?
Yup.

DUMBOLOGY

What is in your left pocket?
Nothing. Wouldn’t fit. My pants feel tight!

Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
What do you mean, “actually?” Of course it’s a good movie.

Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Lovely tan, stained carpet.

Do you sit or stand in the shower?
Seriously? Are there people in this country sitting in the shower?

Could you live with roommates?
Yes.

How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
Four, and I think they should be incorporated in the “business casual” form of dress so popular in many offices…

Where were you born?
Washington D.C.

Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
They came over to our house when we had a very small get together recently because we were being “loud.”

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Good at something.

LASTOLOGY

Friend you talked to?
Carissa

Last person you called?
My father

Person you hugged?
My husband who is very handsome!

FAVORITOLOGY

Number?
8

Color?
Blue

Season?
Fall

CURRENTOLOGY

Missing someone?
Not really. Is that ok?

Mood?
Impatient. How many more questions?

Listening to?
Coffee shop noises, like the espresso grinder.

Watching?
Just the computer screen. One thing at a time, guys.

Worrying about?
My work ethic.

RANDOMOLOGY

First place you went this morning?
To let the dogs out back.

What can you not wait to do?
See J graduate.

What’s the last movie you saw?
“The Baxter” with Michael Showalter. I’m not sure what he was going for in that film, but I still love him.

Do you smile often?
Yeah I do!

Are you a friendly person?
Damn straight!

Now that the survey is done what are you going to do?
Reassess my priorities.

My friend Nicole, who is an excellent knitter and writes about her projects and other aspects of her life on her blog, Knerq, recently wrote a post titled “paying it forward” and said that the first three people to comment would receive a “hand-made something-or-other” in the mail. She got the idea from another blogger who’d written the same sort of post on her site, Baby Rimes, and who (you’re starting to get the picture, aren’t you?) had gotten the idea from another blogger.

Basically, these creative people are participating in an incredibly generous, self-propelled activity that will result in lots of people getting awesome handcrafted stuff in their mailboxes. Naturally, I wanted to be part of it, because I live to foster joy and hope in a world that is sometimes lonely and cold, and also because I love getting stuff in the mail.

So I commented on Nicole’s post and the stipulation, you see, is that I have to post the same thing on my site. So I’m not only receiving, I’m “paying it forward.” I didn’t see that movie, by the way. The one with Kevin Spacey and the “I see dead people” kid. But I don’t think it’s a requirement.

Anyway, the first three people to comment on this post will receive something handmade by me in the mail. A surprise. Those of you who don’t know me that well might think this is pretty cool but I’m pretty sure those who have spent any sort of time with me, particularly in “crafty” situations, know that, well, anything handmade by me isn’t going to appreciate in value over the years. Nor is it going to look good on your wall or in your house or on your body. I can sort of knit scarves and other square or rectangular items and as I’ve mentioned before there was that very troubling period of unemployment where I was obsessively making my own soap, but mainly my crafty side is rather unpolished. I can promise, however, that whatever I send you will be made with love (if not with talent).

The rule? If you comment you have to post the same thing on your own blog if you have one or, I don’t know, just do something nice for somebody. I discovered The Random Acts of Kindness Foundation while I was browsing the internet before, and I’m sure they’ll have some great ideas. And when in doubt, buy your friend a beer. Don’t make fun of someone you normally tease relentlessly. Tell someone you like their outfit - but seriously, only if you do like their outfit, because nobody needs encouragement when they’re making atrocious fashion mistakes.

…Nicole Richie is really pregnant. I know because there was a story in Us Weekly and Us Weekly tells the truth. I try not to make negative comments about stuff like this in a public forum because, well, people can make their own decisions and all, but I don’t know. Nicole Richie…pregnant. YOU be the judge. Turns out CNN anchorwoman Nancy Grace, who is 47, is also pregnant - with twins. Again, no comment.

…Ben Affleck and Matt Damon were hanging out in Kauai right after me and my friends returned and were working on a screenplay. It’s basically a huge tragedy that we didn’t run into them because maybe Jennifer and I could have talked them into helping us on that screenplay we never finished last summer in Maine. Or maybe we just could have all gone sufring. Whatever. I’m flexible.

…playing “Glorified G” by Pearl Jam really loud in your car while singing along (”always…keep it….LOADED!”) with all the windows down really does attract some stares. This is less “celebrity gossip” and more “something I may or may not have done today” but I’m including it in this post because, let’s face it, this is the closest I’m going to get to being associated with famous movie stars. Until, of course, they make a movie of my life (”She Loved to Talk to Strangers: The Cara McDonough Story”) and I get to pick the actress who will play me (Reese Witherspoon).

I’ve been thinking about roasting a whole chicken for a while. I know that’s totally weird, but it became this, like, symbol of domesticity that I felt I had to overcome. I’d made plenty of things in the kitchen - both well and poorly - but I’d never roasted a whole animal. Vegetarians, I’m sure, will find this desire of mine barbaric, and those adept in culinary skills might find it juvenile, but I wanted to do it, and I figured the best way would be to dive in headfirst and use Julia Child’s recipe in her classic cookbook “Mastering the Art of French Cooking.”

First, of course, I had to buy a whole chicken and that turned out to be my initial challenge. I’ve never bought an entire chicken, not a raw one anyway, and I found myself standing in the meat department at Whole Foods the other day trying to look really knowledgeable so that the guy behind the counter wouldn’t suspect anything. Like that I was scared. I asked what I felt was a reasonable question (”These chickens? They’re all good for roasting?”), picked out a roughly three-pound bird (from a local farm, even!) and checked out, very pleased with myself.

When I got home I opened up “Mastering the Art…” and attempted to summon Child herself by pouring myself a glass of red wine and getting familiar with the ingredients. The recipe was simple enough, just required constantly checking on things in the oven and a lot of basting, another thing I’d never done before. But I could baste, no problem, I figured, especially as Julia Child’s basting a chicken involves lots of butter and I rarely allow myself to cook with that much butter. Tonight all calorie restraints were off, I decided.

For the next part I had to summon all my courage, because the next part involved putting my hands inside the chicken to spread salt and butter and I was really, seriously worried about what I’d find in there. Sure enough, upon peeking into the cavity I spotted something pink, surely the neck or lungs or whatever else those insane butchers like to put inside chickens when they cut them up. I know lots of people like to use this stuff when they make broth or stock or whatever, but I like to buy stock and broth in cans. More importantly, I was afraid to touch it or look at it, so I grabbed the nearest pair of tongs, stood as far away as possible and started prodding, hoping maybe that grotesque neck piece would just fall out, right into the trash can.

This was about the time J walked in and I had to explain that he “better get out of the kitchen” because I had to deal with some gizzards and I knew he didn’t want to see it. He just smiled and asked if I would rather he do it and, believe me, I did, so I dropped the tongs and ran as fast as I could into the the other room screaming while he did the deed with his hands - WITH HIS HANDS - calling out to me whenever he found something new (”I think this is the liver”) as I cowered behind the laundry basket.

Once that was over (I had to wait until J told me it was ok to return, all evidence of the incident in safely ensconced in a garbage bag) things, actually, went pretty smoothly. I got the chicken into a roasting pan with some onions. I browned it and stood by, setting the kitchen timer religiously, to baste it every eight to 10 minutes. I looked for signs that, according to Julia, meant it was sufficiently cooked and I even made some somewhat complex side dishes while I waited.

This, it turned out, was my downfall, my Icarus moment if you will, for in attempting to be too great I, at the last moment, clearly overwhelmed by the enormity my mission of making a simple roast chicken and some green beans and mashed potatoes had become, I thoughtlessly placed a Pyrex dish on the stovetop, which just so happened to be on, and while getting ready to bring dinner to the table I heard a huge explosion, and glass flew everywhere. Because, you know, Pyrex doesn’t go on the stovetop. It even says so right on every piece of Pyrex.

Luckily, the glass hit neither J nor I and after we’d swept up the big, dangerous looking shards from the floor, we decided the major cleanup could wait until after we ate. Thus, disaster (in the form of my flinging myself down on the bed and proclaiming that “I can’t do anything right!”) was avoided, as the chicken was good. It tasted like, you know, roast chicken. I’d completed a goal, and as small as it was, and despite the fact that I’d caused a piece of cookware to shatter into about a trillion pieces in the process, I felt one step closer to becoming, on some strange level, an accomplished person.

I seem to be over the unending fatigue that was haunting me ever since I got back from Hawaii. Fatigue especially frustrating as my only excuse for wanting to sleep all the time was, “Listen, I just got back from Hawaii, a beautiful island where I sat on the beach and read magazines a lot and I’m really tired, Jesus, give me a break.”

Back to my normal, sometimes equally frustrating sleeping habits, I woke up at 7 a.m. this Saturday morning, and instead of jumping right out of bed and, I don’t know, getting some work done or something totally uncalled for like that, I decided to watch a little of the weekend edition of “The Today Show” and caught a segment they were doing on the many weddings taking place all over the country today due, in part, to couples wanting to take advantage of the the lucky date - 7/7/07.

J and I didn’t go for anything superstitious in our wedding ceremony besides my wearing the typical something old, new, borrowed and blue routine (because you have to do that, right? that’s the law?) but I was happy to be reminded just the other morning how little luck matters when you’ve got as comfortable a relationship as we do. I was dropping J off at work and when we arrived, as usual, he leaned over to kiss me goodbye, then promptly spat, groaned and yelled, “Oh. What IS that?!” and then spat again. I’d discovered some lip balm I hadn’t used in a while as I was cleaning out one of my bags that morning and I guess the taste didn’t fly with my husband.

As I sat there just looking at him regain his composure my first thought was how glaringly evident it was at that very moment that we’re over the whole trying to protect each other from our real feelings thing. And I thought about how his reaction would have affected me years earlier in our relationship. It might have necessitated hours of analysis. But now, only a second of reflection before I laughed at him and told him to go, and I can only wish the same kind of love for the many couples getting married today. I mean, I think spitting after kissing someone pretty well defines the true meaning of brute honesty and really, what more can you ask for?

Well, I decided to reactivate the plug in that requires you all to complete a simple math challenge when you comment on the blog.

The reason for my doing this is that some people who shall remain nameless (TRANNY WITH A SMALL DICK!) seem to think it’s awesome to comment with all sorts of links to porn on my old posts.

I know it’s a pain but I also know some of you secretly love the rush you get upon answering the problem correctly. That’s right. You know who you guys are. You nerds.

A while back J and I rented and watched the movie “Wet Hot American Summer.” I’d somehow missed out on the MTV comedy series “The State” as a teenager in the 90s (the kind of crucial lacking in my sketch comedy education that, upon telling people this fact, they’d usually say something along the lines of “WHAT?! You’ve never seen ‘The State’??? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM??”) and learned that the very same geniuses who created that show were responsible for “Wet Hot American Summer,” which by the way, quickly became just about my favorite movie.

And that’s really something. I’m not saying I’m some well-known comedy critic or anything - in fact, just the opposite. I often don’t quite get it when the general population finds something totally hysterical. One problem is - and I’m not proud of this - I’m not that into fart jokes or potty humor. I know my admitting to that probably means I’m going to be labeled as a snobby, sad, old prude, but it’s the truth.

The thing is when I do find something, some show or movie or person, I think is funny, I usually latch on with fervent intensity that results in my becoming, well, borderline obsessed. Like when I first saw the British version of the show “The Office” (which came out before the American version and was basically produced by the same people and, if you haven’t seen it, please, please rent it immediately, you won’t regret it, I swear) I immediately declared it was the best, funniest show I’d ever seen and proceeded to watch all the episodes about 3,000 times, over and over again. I’m mildly exaggerating. Mildly.

Anyway, after I’d watched “Wet Hot American Summer” a bunch of times, J decided I should see some of the episodes of “The State” especially because you can now download the first season on iTunes. So I did, and guess what? I loved “The State” too!

Next we rented all the episodes of this show called “Stella,” a short-lived Comedy Central series that was on a while ago, starring Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter and David Wain, who were all involved in both projects mentioned above. And now we’re watching “The Michael Showalter Showalter,” which you can find on collegehumor.com.

There’s no turning back now. I find everything these guys do hilarious and will probably be telling everyone I talk to over the next few weeks that they’d better check them out. Because there’s nothing like someone telling you to watch something they think is funny, and then for emphasis, reenacting certain scenes for you, and then laughing really hard while you look on with a confused look on your face. So to avoid this situation, just watch it all. Trust me.