TheSunNews.com: Celia Rivenbark

From the Belle Tower | Lazywear: No energy wanted

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 07:38 EST

An alert reader recently wrote me about a product called Forever Lazy. Having read of my love affair with the Snuggie, she predicted that I would be unable to resist the charms of this year’s premium loungewear or as the TV commercial says: “lazywear.”

We’ll just see about that, I thought. I can’t tell you how long and hard I have preached the gospel of the Snuggie, converting the snobbish with a simple demonstration of its fleecy delightfulness. How could anything be better? People still talk about our Snuggie-themed family Christmas card from two years ago in which we all wore our Snuggies. And by “talk” I mean laugh loudly and use phrases like “stupid looking” and “were y’all high?”

Because research is tax-deductible, I bought my very own Forever Lazy at Bed, Bath & Beyond ($25 after using a $5 store coupon). It’s blue; it came with matching fleece slippers and, well, let’s just say that since I put it on nine hours ago I have done Absolutely Nothing.

From the Belle Tower | Celeb vows: So long as we both can bear it

Sun, 27 Nov 2011 16:15 EST

Celebrity marriages are notoriously brief but the case of Kim Kardashian, who filed for divorce from Kris Somebody after a mere 72 days citing “irreconcilable differences,” surely breaks some kind of record. How is that even possible? In the first 72 days, you’re supposed to still have your “A” game going: He’s still putting down the toilet seat; she’s still shaving her legs every day, that sort of thing.

Seventy-two days? I’ve got Half and Half in my fridge right now that has an expiration date longer than that. Call me a sentimental old fool but I’d hope that any marriage would last longer than, say, mustard.

But just as we were reeling from the “tragic” news of the Kardashian debacle, we learn that Ashton Kucher and Demi Moore are splitting up.

Song lyrics have only gotten dumber

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

I've always been convinced that no one would ever write lyrics weirder than Led Zeppelin's "If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now," which we all sang along to in the '70s because "Stairway to Heaven" was so awesome it didn't matter that the words made no sense.

The same was true of The Steve Miller Band's wretchedly wonderful songs, most famously this line from "Take the Money and Run": "Billy Mack's a detective down in Texas. You know he knows just what the facts is." Texas? Facts is? Sure. That rhymes.

America, a soft-rock band I loved in high school, wrote absolutely awful lyrics but nobody cared. The worst included a bizarre reference to "Alligator lizards in the air" from a song called "Ventura Highway" and the sadly memorable "There were plants and trees and rocks and things" from "A Horse With No Name." Things? THINGS????

Building up for flat screen TV plunge

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

Duh-Hubby and I have been arguing about when to take the flat-screen, high-def TV plunge. I say that we should wait for our bloated-looking old-fashioned TV to die of natural causes because this is what Al Gore would want us to do. Hubby says that we should seize the day because all of our friends already have the new screens.

"And if all our friends drove off a cliff, would you do that, too?"

"You're talking to me like I'm a child," he said. "Hey! Let's get ice cream!"

'Follow, dear' is easier said than done

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

Maybe it's because I got hooked on watching "Dancing With the Stars." Maybe it's because we've been married for nearly 20 years and the closest thing to a formal dance hubby and I can do is the hokey pokey. And even that's dicey because I often forget to put my whole self in.

Whatever the reason, here we were, one Sunday afternoon a week, taking Beginning Ballroom Dance in a mirror-lined room alongside a dozen other jittery couples wearing "Hello" nametags. In my mind, I would be Lisa Rinna to hubby's Harry Hamlin. We'd be good at this. After all, didn't we have several decades' experience standing around with our eyes closed, swinging our heads from side to side during "Free Bird"? We had rhythm. Sort of.

But now that we are in week four of six, I'm embarrassed that I ever poked fun at Jerry Springer's spazzy start on "Stars." He was a god of dancing, a regular Mario Baryshnikov compared to me.

Baby-daddies coming out of the woodwork

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

Hons, my family's financial future is set if I can just convince my husband to step up and tell the world, or at least "People" magazine, that HE is the real father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby.

At the rate men are signing up to claim daddyhood (and, perhaps not coincidentally, a chance to share the infant's potential multimillion dollar inheritance), I figure my hubby will come in just behind Urkel and slightly ahead of Donald Trump, who will announce, any day now, that "This baby has been fathered by the most handsome and charismatic producer and star of the most exciting reality show that has ever been shown in the history of television.

"And that includes your high-definition, your plasma and your just plain television."

Easy to tell astronaut not a Southerner

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

While everybody else was slack-jawed over lovesick astronaut Lisa Nowak's "she's-come-undone" behavior, I just thought to myself: "Isn't that just like a Yankee to think nothing of getting in the car and driving 14 hours straight to Florida?"

Southerners just don't do this.

My whole life, I have realized that one of the key differences between folks from the North and South is that a Southerner would never get in the car and drive more than six or eight hours to get anywhere. We're simply not programmed that way.

TV's pithy nostalgia runs amok

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

I recently ordered something from one of those "as seen on TV" places. I won't tell you the name because I don't want to be sued or have a shadowy figure in a hot pink velour sweat suit hold me down and staple my skull with a million tiny little decorative rhinestones and beads "guaranteed to add excitement to any outfit!"

Call it nostalgia, call it an unfortunate mix of prescription cough syrup and Red Bull, call it whatever you want, but I recently had an irrational desire to uh, dazzle up, "an array of sweaters, hats, dresses, slacks, even school book covers!" with these little multicolored beads and brads and jewels.

This would be fun for the whole family! I knew it would because the nice lady on TV said so. And how could you not trust a woman with her name stud-set in artificial gemstones across her bosom? I imagined what I could put across my own bosom. Perhaps "Yeah, they're real," on my 34 A's. I love irony in fake topaz, don't y'all?

Autos now built to foil drunken drivers

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

S o you think you're not too drive to drunk?

Let's just see what your Japanese car has to say about that, Bubba.

Toyota is almost ready to roll out a car that can detect if you've had too much to drink by analyzing the boozy palm-sweat on your steering wheel.

You can't make a deal with greed

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

I 've been watching "Deal or No Deal" for the past couple of weeks and I've decided that America's going straight to h-e-double hockey sticks.

And soon.

Greeting us at the door, and wearing an oily grin, will be Howie Mandel, whom I liked much better with hair on "St. Elsewhere" a gazillion years ago.

There's no test for Southern vocabulary

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

My daughter just brought home a rather long-winded explanation of what is expected of fourth-graders on the upcoming big, fancy state writing test. I've read it, like, eight times and I still don't understand it, which means that either (A) I have the brains of sweater fuzz or (B) This thing really makes no sense.

On account of me being a perfessional writer-type person, I was eager to learn about the writing test but got stopped by the heading "Classroom Assessment Analytic Rubric."

I have no idea what a rubric is. Maybe it has something to do with a Rubric's cube, but then, what would an obscure toy from the '80s have to do with writing?

Some salons giving more bang for buck

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 15:39 EDT

Perhaps the funniest thing about the trend of Hooters-style barbershops sweeping the country is that at least one of the chains, Bikini Cuts, offers a children's cut for children 10 and younger.

Somehow, I'm having trouble picturing the beleaguered mom of three, Starbucks stains on her sweatpants, claiming a few moments of me-time while her kids get haircuts and squealing with delight when she realizes there are current issues of "Guns & Ammo" AND "Maxim" on the table in front of her.

And what message does this send the tow-headed 8-year-old boy? Is he going to objectify women as in: "Yo, blondie, go fetch my 'Highlights'; I wasn't done reading TheTimbertoes yet"?