Famous Dumbass of the Year

I was originally going to call this “Dumbass of the Year,” but there's someone else who fits that description, so instead I'm amending it to Famous Dumbass of the Year.

And the winner is: DMX, the hardcore rapper who can't catch a clue!

The list of nominees was long and distinguished, and the committee had a challenging time deciding upon whom to confer this award. Here are the reasons why DMX came up on top:

Back in 2004, DMX “plowed his SUV through a security gate at JFK Airport while high on Valium and then claimed to be an undercover federal agent.”

So, OK, that could happen to anyone. And the judge was down with him, so when DMX pled guilty, the judge gave him a conditional sentence, telling him to keep his nose clean and, oh yeah, turn in his JFK-security-ramming Ford Expedition.

Two weeks later, DMX was cited for driving 104 mph in a 65 mph zone.

And then, in April of this year, DMX rammed his Dodge Magnum into a ladies “stationary car,” causing a chain reaction that, oops, also involved an unmarked police vehicle.

And then! Oh yeah! He missed a court date last month. Must've gotten it confused with the MTV Music Video Awards.

So hey, hey, he's going to jail, having just pled guilty to two counts of driving with a suspended sentence, punishible by two months in jail, perhaps on the lovely Riker's Island.

Sentencing will occur on Nov. 17.

Full story appears here.

All about me

I love the Internet because it is such an amazing tool for self-discovery. Hence googlism.com:

lynn johnson is all

lynn johnson is the first woman to earn the prestigious tomb guard badge to become the first female sentinel at the tomb of the unknowns at arlington

lynn johnson is not available and it's still a crisis

lynn johnson is currently representing several personal injury and wrongful death plaintiffs in gm pickup cases

lynn johnson is chairman of alliance usa

lynn johnson is a scream as an irrepressible topsy

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lynn johnson is well known as a collaborative pianist and teacher in the moncton vicinity and around the maritimes

lynn johnson is a warm and personable woman who is serious about her work

lynn johnson is an old timer and does great work as do her colleagues

lynn johnson is available at guard

lynn johnson is also one of my bests friends

lynn johnson is simply too young and attractive to be really convincing

lynn johnson is the stage manager

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lynn johnson is a prayer pilgrim and provider of spiritually based counseling for the past 20 years

lynn johnson is a woman who rocks

No shoes for me

Well, I did not even come close to winning The Manolo's Super Fantastic Essay contest, but after reading the things that did win, I'm not feeling too terrible about it. Anyway, here is my entry, which I think is definitely worth at least $1,000 worth of shoe merchandise.

Are there Shoes after Childbirth? Or, You Don’t Know What You’ve Got Until It Doesn’t Fit Anymore

My friend Roberta has, like, 300 pairs of shoes. Or rather, she has 300 pairs of shoes, gave birth, and now has 300 pairs of shoes that don’t fit.

It seems that in pregnancy, tummies and breasts aren’t the only things that expand.

I didn’t think much of it at the time, for fear of enabling her habit, but now that I myself am ready to give birth any day now (stress the word “ready”), I find myself mourning my few pair of fabulous footwear, the ones I rarely wore but knew were there, patiently awaiting my booty call.

My shoes were the first things I outgrew. No worry, then; I was managing an ice-cream shop and required to wear non-slip black industrials: the muumuus of the shoeniverse. But then I got fired for being pregnant, threw away my non-slips (no more food service!), and then sat in my closet, looking for something sexy to elongate my puffy tootsies.

No va, baby. Nothing fit. Not my anodized aluminum cut-out wedges with the mirrored cuff. Not my three-inch black stilettos I wore for a very important first date. Not my dancing pumps with the Lucite heel that I wore on my wedding day. And, worst of all, not my red lizard mules I bought one week before my positive pregnancy test and wore once.

So now I give new life to the cliché “barefoot and pregnant,” not only wondering what I’m going to wear to my discrimination lawsuit but also: if they warned us about this pregnancy by-product in Sex Ed, or on “Sex in the City,” would the world suffer a population decline? Roberta and I think it’s possible.

Amazing Coincidence!

According to an article by the Associated Press, “Ricky Martin… says the fame and fortune he experienced in the late '90s left him feeling bored and embittered.”

Astonishing coincidence! Because the fame and fortune experienced by Ricky Martin in the late '90s left me feeling bored and embittered, too!

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Hey, Ricky, wanna be pen pals?


So Ellen is back home from Louisiana, where she ate something called Boudin Balls that she says are to die for, but I've been a little apprehensive to type that into Epicurious.com for fear of what might turn up.

I just finished revamping a web site for my favorite client.

And I continue my battle against the insolent, inept, and insane. Happily, that's going well. It helps that I myself am none of the three.

Sunday night The Manolo will post the results of his essay contest — I am hoping that my 300-word tome “Are there Shoes after Childbirth” will rocket to the #1 prize of more than $1,000 worth of shoe merchandise.

Sunday also marks my ninth month of pregnancy, and baby boy could come at “any time,” sayeth the midwife.

Which means I've got a loooot of thank-you notes to write between now and then.