1. All I can say about Lost is: Another motherloving hatch? Are you KIDDING me? And apparently none of the castaways have ever seen any bad made-for-TV movies, because if they did they'd know that the name you say right before you die is ALWAYS the name of the person who killed you, not a guy you just like so much that you want to say his name. Who wastes their dying breath being like, "You know who's awesome? MICHAEL." No. It's, "You know who killed me? Yeah, that'd be MICHAEL."
2. I love that Nick Lachey has songs out now that are all love-me-I'm-broken; those two have successfully marketed their relationship to a bloody pulp, and now there's even a divorce soundtrack. Does anyone else wish their show was still on? They could have the corny intro with the song be the same as before but then cross out Newlyweds and call it Not So Much-yweds. Or, um, something like that. Whatever they called it, I know I'd DVR the crap out of it.
3. My dad went back home today after two weeks in rehab. He left with two new knees and I left with a massive addiction to Purell because they have a bottle of it every two feet in every hospital on the planet. The medical profession has really gotten behind this stuff, and it's like heroin for your hands. The clear stuff is OK, but the kind with lotion is beyond reason. It makes your hands ridiculously soft, plus it's anti-bacterial! I could only love it more if it also swiffed my apartment. And I can't believe I'm proclaiming my love for this drugstore junk, being the product connoisseur that I am. Supergirl's had a bottle of it on her desk all year and I've snobbishly avoided it. Turns out Bliss has nothing on Purell. Who knew?
4. I went to my godmother's retirement party tonight, and all I can say is that former school administrators really know how to kick out the jams on a Thursday night. There are places in this world where people cut a rug to that "hip hop hooray, ho, hey, ho" song and encourage me to marry an Ecuadorian woman. Also, I was told The Dirtiest Story I've Ever Heard in My Entire Life by a woman who must have been at least fifty. It literally stunned me and my pseudo-cousins (my godmother's son and daughter) to silence for a few seconds, and as you might imagine, that ain't easy. I'd tell you guys, but then I'd start getting some really sketchy search engine hits.
5. I'm clearly up too late but I have to say that I love when Conan has a guest that truly makes him laugh; not the polite heh-heh he gives to boy band members, but the full-on laugh from people who really crack him up, like John C. Reilly is right now. I love me some Conesy. But I have to turn it off and go to bed because it says John Mayer is on the show later, and in my opinion there are few things worse than that guy, rambling about how your lips are like bubble gum and your tongue is a cherry popsicle or whatever the hell he sings about.