She's back in the closet again.

Tuesdays with Heather...in the closet.

It WAS Wednesday yesterday when I recorded this. I do realize that it is, in fact, Thursday now.

Let's talk about the elephant in the room...

Hulk Hogan.

He's long been reveared by many a little boy as the greatest WWF wrestler of all time. PB remembers vividly when this blond haired beast of a man came crashing into "sports".

Okay, PB totally doesn't remember. He was busy hunting squirrels in the mid-80's.

I was playing with Barbies and listening to my Laura Brannigan record. Of course I played with Barbies well into the fifth grade. Through therapy, I am free to admit that now.

But we KNEW who Hulk Hogan was and to that extent, haven't really thought about him since then.

Oh, sure, I watched his reality show a few times. No. It wasn't particularly entertaining. He always looked kind of tired. I kept thinking..."Why do his wife and daughter keep trying to give him make-overs?" and "Why isn't his son taller? It seems like Brooke got all of Hulk's genes. The poor boy is aaaaallll his momma."

I think we all thought those things.

And then his wife filed for divorce and let the pool boy move in. He was Brooke's age. Have you seen Hulk's ex-wife????

I don't think any more needs to be said on that.

When Hulk's ex allowed the pool boy to move into the house that Hulk, himself, had bought her and let the pool boy drive the car that Hulk's money had paid for, the Hulk admitted how he could see why OJ got so crazy mad.

PB and I have commented on more than one occasion that the Hulk kept it classy.

Here's his interview with Meredith Viera on the Today Show yesterday.

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I'm so glad that Laila Ali called him at such a critical moment. I can't imagine the poor Hulk in so much pain. I kinda like having the big guy around. His blond hair makes him a big 'ol ray of sunshine.

Even I can't tell at this point if I'm being sarcastic or not.

Things that make me happy...

...not necessarily in this order:

When little girls sing with "vibrato" after watching a Barbie movie.

Designer jeans.

Sitting in the waves on the beach.

Old Christmas songs.

The weather in Arizona.

Crab legs and sweet tea.

My husband.

Pumpkin spice anything.

Snuggling with freshly bathed kids.

The smell of Coppertone in the spring.

Roly poly babies with chubby thighs.

Lying under the Christmas tree in the dark and looking up at the Christmas lights.

A two hour nap.

Camping in the Fall.

An amazing book that I can't put down.

Easter dresses.

Your Song by Elton John.

Pug puppies.

The French Quarter.

What makes you happy?

Questions from famous people.

I often receive emails from celebrities asking me various questions. Often times, they are searching for answers and find me a no-nonsense alternative to the people that surround them.

Britney Spears wants to know: "Hi Heather. Long time fan, first time commenter. I have two small boys and wondered: what is the secret to being a good mother?"

A: I'm asked this alot. Just the other day Tori Spelling and I had a long conversation about the pros and cons of having giant paper mache mushrooms at a one-year-old's birthday party. Common sense. That's the secret. OH, and wearing underwear.

Elvis asks: "I love your blog. I've been reading it forever and find your writing style both witty and engaging. Keep up the good work. Now, to my question: Do you believe in ghosts?"

A: Despite that fact that you are logged onto the internet from the "great beyond", no I don't. If I did believe in ghosts it would give them some sort of legitimacy and then everyone would want to haunt me. I feel like I would be very 'haunt-able'. I do, however, believe in aliens.

David Duchovny writes: "Hey, Heather. You rock my world and I've heard that you believe in aliens. I happen to have first hand experience with many different types of unexplained phenomena. Maybe I could share my findings with you sometime."

A: You seem slightly confused, Mr. Duchovny. You don't, in fact, have first hand experience with aliens. You were just acting on a tv show. Or high on cocaine during an "encounter". You are gross. Don't email me again.

Martha Stewart invites: "Hello, dear friend. I see that you enjoy decorating as much as I do. I feel as if we could be assets to one another and would love to have a meeting of sorts, a symposium if you will, to trade ideas. It could be a good thing."

A: Martha, are you asking me on a date!?? I had no idea you played for that team. I'm flattered but I'm afraid I am not available for a "symposium". You are super sweet for thinking of me though. And by the way, windex does NOT clean shower doors. Or stainless steel for that matter. Martha, I'd like you to meet my friend Reality. Reality, this is Martha.

Paula Deen graciously offers: "Hey, girl! We heard Martha asked you out on a date. I have a proposition for you too. Lafayette from True Blood along with Kurt from Glee and I want to know if you would be our best friend. We have a little club that meets at my house on Wednesdays. I cook and Lafayette gives us all makeovers. Kurt teaches us dance routines. Are you in?"

A: Is the Pope religious??? Uhm...yeah!! I'm so there. And I'll provide the fingernail polish and clove cigarettes. I may or may not be squealing like a little girl right now.

So, that is just a sprinkling of the questions (and various offers) I get regularly. Thought you might like seeing the inner-workings of what goes on here behind Mindless Junque.

Vegas and my dining room

Just so you all don't get freaked out that I've been taken by South American drug lords to be their hostaged "mule"...

I am here.

SITScation was a roaring success, but if you're reading this you're also probably reading the blogs of other SITScation attendees and know by now that it was amazing.

They probably also have pictures to prove it's amazingness. I do not because I am not only the world's worst picture taker, but I always forget my camera.

And now that SITScation is done, I'm focusing my energies on getting ready for the holidays. My dad and his wife are coming into town for Thanksgiving and so there are some things that need to be taken care of.

Like dining room chairs.

Tufts are nice. I'm thinking these might work.

Photo courtesy of Sears

And I need a light. What about this?

Photo courtesy of Horchow

I'd like a foofy rug.

Photo courtesy of Layla Grace

I like the mix of traditional but with a little fluff. Maybe a mirror for some sparkle?

Photo courtesy of Ballard Designs

I don't know...the mirror is not quite right. It might be a little too Tuscan and I'm going for more French Country-ish. No, wait, French Apartment?

Maybe some South American drug lords could help me out. I'm sure they have French connections.

And I wonder what sort of internet havoc I am wreaking by continuously mentioning terrifying felons.

Can a blog run it's course? Do you think that sometimes the delete button can be cathartic? What started for my girls turned into a quest for comments. I judged my wit, my creativity, and my writing skills by the number of comments I got after ever post.

I averaged a fairly high number there for a while, but then some things changed and what started as a hobby became a chore.

I look back and still don't know how I wrote a post a day. I think maybe it was because the twins were still so little that they didn't realize how much time I spent on the computer. They're older now, though, and demand more of my undivided attention.

All of my girls do. I thought it would get easier as they got older, but it just kind of gets busier. There's talk of soccer in the spring and ballet lessons for Christmas. Some are showing a certain aptitude for piano playing and that means my chauffeur season of life begins.

I'm too busy to be funny lately.

I don't think I'm going anywhere, but I think things need to evolve. This blog needs to evolve. I'm exploring some other platforms that streamline the process. I'm trying them on and checking them out.

I'll let you know what happens.

In the meantime, let's enjoy Mr. Paul Wesley from The Vampire Diaries (aka: The Hotness That SHOULD Have Been Edward Cullen)