Kitty Deschanel

As a woman in my 30s, I'm well over the target age of the new Disney series Girl Meets World . But, of course, how can I not watch it? Cory and Topanga are back! They're just like me! And they're sooo old!   Cory and I grew up in a time without the internet, digital cameras, cell phones, hybrid cars, iPads, and reality shows. We grew up in the age of Paintbrush for Windows, a pre-Photoshop time where your photos were limited to looking more or less exactly as you took them (which was a surprise in itself, as you only got 24 photo opportunities per expensive roll.) And it was glorious. Why is this suddenly on my mind? I was browsing through my backup CDs from more than a decade ago (I could go back even further, but computers can't accommodate any of my floppy or zip disks anymore.) I found all kinds of nonsense .  My first ever conversation with Sexy Nerd was saved, which seems like a wonderfully romantic bonus of meeting your soulmate online...until you actually read

It took me until age 30 to finally accept the magic of liquid eyeliner. When I saw rows of dark brown L.A. Colors liquid eyeliner at Dollar Tree (only a buck!) it was impossible to resist any longer. I'm glad I came around - it makes such a difference. Still, being an eyeliner newbie, my morning routine comes to a serious, quiet halt each day as I try to patiently draw a thin, steady line on each eye. Some attempts are more successful than others. This morning, I drew the best eyeliner line ever on my right eyelid. Really, it was PERFECT! I should have taken a photo of it, in all its skinny, smudgeless glory. Quite pleased with myself, I popped the eyeliner brush back in its tube in preparation of what would surely be an equally successful left eye application. Then, this happened: The bristles refused to go back. I began to trim off the stragglers with my nail clippers, but soon realized they were all stragglers. In desperation, (hey, I had only one eye lined. And it wa

Sexy Nerd makes life so easy for me. He takes out the garbage, scrubs the toilets, cooks dinner occasionally, and changes the oil in my car without me even needing to mention it. Today, my Chevy Volt was due for it's first ever oil change (12,000 miles - I love that car!) and Sexy Nerd had everything he needed for the job, minus the correct size wrench. Off he went to our local AutoZone. Sexy Nerd is a mechanical engineer. He knows his cars. However, the AutoZone cashier wasn't so sure, and proceeded to lecture him on being very careful when opening the wrench packaging so he'd be able to return it if it was the wrong size. Sexy Nerd: Don't worry. It's the right one. Cashier: I'd better look it up, just in case. Sexy Nerd: That's okay. I know this is the one I need. Cashier: No, no. I'll just take a quick look. What kind of car is it? Sexy Nerd: It's a 2013 Chevy Volt. Cashier: (...awkward pause...) Is that a car? (...more mome

You know you're addicted to Candy Crush when... Let's see. If I've played 575 Candy Crush levels at an average of 15 minutes per level (some took very little time, but some took FOREVER) that means I've spent...ummm... Only 8,625 minutes playing candy crush over the past few months (I was late to the Candy Crush party. It didn't sound like that fun of a game, but one weekend afternoon, Sexy Nerd was out of town and I was bored.) 8,625 minutes, so... just 143.75 hours... Almost 6 nonstop days of playing Candy Crush. (And, let's face it, that average of 15 minutes per level is probably pretty generous. A few of those levels took WEEKS!) Now how am I going to waste all my time??