News flash.

Jon Bon Jovi is a handsome man.

Shocker, I know.

My Guy and I saw Bon Jovi in concert ... us and about 10,000 screaming women in mom jeans. The show? It was excellent. I love me some Bon Jovi, and they covered a lot of material from the New Jersey album, which I owned on cassette and have since purchased on iTunes. Because I love it that much.

I will say that for a while, the time-space continuum was all sorts of messed up. Richie Sambora was wearing this silver lamé sport coat that just made his skin look orange, and I had a hard time believing it was actually 2010. But then he traded out the coat for another and all was right with the world.

Bon Jovi isn't cool and I don't care. I love them. And I love the family that sat in front of us. Hipster mom and dad brought their 11-year-old daughter and 8-year-old son to the show, and all four of them danced and sang along. They were enjoying those precious remaining moments before their daughter thinks they're total dweebs.

Is that even a word anymore? "Dweeb" was totally cool when I first discovered Bon Jovi. Just sayin'.

Hop to it.

Krampus the Christmas Frog? He's really growing as an individual. My mom sent me new pics over the last few days ... and Krampus is totally trying new hobbies.

Ham radio?

Listen for Kilo-Radio-Alpha-Mary-Papa-Uniform-Sierra.

Quilting?

Just be careful you don't get your scarf - or flipper - caught in the machine.

And model railroading?
Well, our little Krampus is obviously a man about town ... and the rail yard.

Is it sad that Krampus' life is way more interesting than mine?

Living in a world of fools.

The lovely JeanGenie left a great comment about my Elton John concert experience:

I actually had a guy say "Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer" while were dancing.

Eww.

Yes, JeanGenie, I’m appropriately jealous. And heebed out. But mostly? Mostly, your tale of inappropriate sweet nothings made me think immediately about making out with my ex-boyfriend’s roommate in college. My ex-boyfriend’s roommate, who stopped trying to swallow my ear whole just long enough to sing “How deep is your love?” in said ear.

Yes. The Bee Gees. How deep is your love … I really need to learn. The entire chorus.

I laughed. But sadly, I didn’t laugh enough to put a stop to the shenanigans. He’s probably still putting that move on the ladies.

I learned my lesson – many lessons, actually. Don’t make out with your ex-boyfriend’s roommate because he will ruin a perfectly good song for you and then later you’ll end up at Denny’s in a drunken brawl, fighting over feminism and women’s role in the workplace and you will call him a fascist, chauvinistic pig, realizing only after the words are out that a) you’re not really sure what a fascist is; and b) you are still dependent upon him for a ride back to campus.

Ahem. Bygones.

So, spill it. What’s the cheesiest, most misused song / pick-up line to grace your ears?

My mom is brilliant.

While I've been sitting on my ass, waiting for the Zoloft to kick in, I've been receiving certain e-mails.

From my mother.

Remember Krampus?

Yes. Everybody's favorite dancing frog family mascot is on the loose. See, whenever I leave my parents' house, I inevitably forget something. I think it's my mom's way of insuring that I will return. At Christmas? Well, I forgot Krampus.

I know. I feel horrible. I had a cold. He blended in with the Christmas decorations. I am a terrible parent. I have no excuse.

So, lately? Krampus has gotten sick of sitting on his ass, waiting for me to get off my ass and come get him.

I guess my parents' living room gets dull after a while. The frog is now on some sort of walkabout. And I am the lucky recipient of his vacation photos. This one makes me think of "Gonna fly now" from Rocky.

This one made me nervous.

And with good reason. This next photo accompanied an e-mail that simply said, "Ohhhhh ... shhhhiiiiii ... "

Any bets on where Krampus will end up next? I just hope he has the good sense not to end up in Vegas, married to a waitress.

Back on the chain gang.

When I was in seventh grade, I was in Advanced Science. We did all sorts of cool stuff, like use microscopes and figure out our blood types. Or, at least we thought we figured out our blood types ... I discovered years later that mine was wrong.

Anyway. We dissected frogs and cow's eyes and even fetal pigs. In hindsight, this was sort of a waste - what seventh grader is really getting a lot out of dissecting a fetal pig? Wouldn't that be an activity better suited to a high school biology student? But I guess 12-year-olds are safer with a scalpel than your average 17-year-old, so perhaps there was a method to the madness.

Seventh grade also meant science projects. These trimester-long projects were so grown-up and so stressful. Each student had to come up with a hypothesis, a procedure, results, and a conclusion. The project was student-driven and culminated in a long research paper.

Well, long as in five pages. Long for seventh grade.

My science project was measuring the impact of water pollution on horticultural growth. Or, rather, testing the impact of watering mustard seeds with laundry detergent.

I know. I can't believe it wasn't picked up by Scientific American either.

I had trays and trays of mustard seeds. The control group was watered with tap water. The test group was watered with a combination of tap water and good ol' liquid Cheer. I carefully measured the amount of liquid poured on each plant, and I carefully measured the height of each plant.

The conclusion? Watering your mustard seeds with liquid Cheer isn't a good idea. The plants were smaller than the control plants.

The next trimester, I think I did a variation of the same experiment, but tested eastern sunlight versus western sunlight in addition to the liquid Cheer. If memory serves, my dad had a TV tray of mustard seeds right next to his closet, as this was the best spot in the house with eastern sun. The man should get a medal.

I don't recall the exact conclusion of the east / west sunlight debate, but the learnings of the first study held true: liquid Cheer ain't plant food, people.

So, it was an experiment gone somewhat awry. But I still learned some stuff. Like how being a scientist is a pain in the ass. And that clean water is good.

I've drawn conclusions to a more recent experiment: going off Zoloft isn't a good thing. Can I live without it? Yes. Is my quality of life better without it? No. I've been going round and round, having trouble getting out of bed, being anxious about everything, but still being sort of OK ... and a whole lot stubborn. And finally, this weekend? This weekend, when I stood in the first sunshine we've seen in forever and instead of feeling joy, I felt panic because spring means having to clean up my yard? And then I had to take an Ativan just to get my sorry ass out of the house to go to yoga? Well, I drew my final conclusions about going off Zoloft.

It was an experiment gone somewhat awry. But I still learned some stuff.

Quote of the week.

Courtesy of my sweet computer geek boyfriend, dancing with me at a wedding:

When people see me dance, they know I know html.

Shout it out loud.

I'm not necessarily a member of the KISS army, but this story is so awesome.

Picture it: it's 1975. It's your high school's homecoming. And KISS is your school's special guest. At the parade. And at the football field. And in concert in your school gym.

And then? Your 16-year-old brain explodes.



The city leaders donning make-up to host KISS at a breakfast kind of makes my brain explode even now. But good for them for going all-out. And good for KISS for doing something so cool.

Video courtesy of ESPN.com.