I love Dancing With the Stars. So sue me. I love ballroom dancing. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it.

I also love the fact that Joey Fatone just danced to the song “Respect” by Erasure the week after the judges said he wasn’t manly enough!

I also respect the heck out of the vocalist who sang Respect on the show — wow! That’s a *range*!

Do *not* buy any “mint” flavored toothpaste if the illustration on the box shows the paste as being orange (even if it claims to be “Extreme Mint”).  You will regret it.

I’ve said a few things as an adult that I really, truly regret.  Inevitably (and unfortunately, and probably also predictably), I say them in front of enormous groups of people.

I did it again tonight.

I was at a neighborhood watch/safety meeting and asking the policeman there if he’d heard anything about a crime that had happened.  In order to explain what I meant I described the crime locale:  That first driveway (good so far), when you turn off Carpenter Fletcher (still good), right down by where the ramshackle (oh dear) house is (Alert! Alert!  Close Mouth Now!).

I was *not* talking about the house *on* Carpenter Fletcher *next* to the driveway, but a shack (that really is a shack) *on* the driveway in question, which is part of a property my doctor owns on which she is building her new office.  All the same, it sure did sound like I was saying one of my neighbors lived in a shack.  All because I couldn’t just “get while the getting was good” and had to continue on with the dramatic (but not well thought out) description.

So, just now I tripped over the baby gate at the entrance to the Puppy Palace and stubbed my baby toe so well that it’s now bleeding.  Poor coordination or karmic retribution?

Perhaps at some point (should I feel the need for further embarrassment) I will add the one I pulled a few years back

Or maybe not.  This may have been enough to persuade me to keep my mouth shut.