I had no intentions of returning to Southern California until August. Tis BFF’s birthday and the Cowboys are in Oxnard for training camp then San Diego for a pre-season game. However, three weeks ago BFF calls with the news she’s scored tickets to the Eclipse premiere. I’ve NEVER hid the fact that I’m a Twi-hard, so I’ve no taste for your haterade. Just be thankful the squealing 14 year-old stays contained within. And besides, I promise this is going somewhere.

At the premiere party...check out that mad tan line!

Although my financially-sound, better judgment attempted to be the decision maker on whether or not to fly out, it took all of 18 hours for it to be overpowered by my dominant better half who has a penchant for obsession. Not to mention my entire self needed a getaway before I went bananas in a bad way at work. So a plane ticket was booked, a dress was bought and the Disneyland annual pass was ready to go. It was time to go back, back to Cali, Cali. I must admit mixed feelings ensued. I’ve enjoyed my life in Dallas thus far, despite a work load and temperatures created by the Devil himself. I have a great duplex in a neighborhood I’ve wanted to live in for forevs, a 13-minute commute and access to all my long-term friends and family. The only thing missing right now is football season and the Spanish and/or French lover I’m on the hunt for to tide me over till I finally get my hands on Taylor Lautner (more on that later, duh!). So I knew this trip could have it’s emotional consequences. And it did, more so than I’ll tell anyone in person. I do NOT – let me infinitely repeat, do NOT – miss Los Angeles. The traffic, lack of parking, soul sucking atmosphere and kryptonitic cute Jewish boys…get a sister outta there, stat. However, California (not to be confused with LA, they are NOT one and the same) I miss so much it hurts my heart. I spent quite a bit of time on the beach at Crystal Cove (Newport) and it’s all I could do not to leave LAX in tears on Saturday. Had I possessed a job or a man I loved and gotten the hell out of LA, I don’t think I would have left. In no way do I regret my decision to move back to Dallas, I did what was best for me at that (and this) point. Having said that, there was a moment on Saturday morning, right as the sun broke through the June gloom, with my toes in the sand, that I realized the rest of my life is TBD and I am okay with that…FINALLY.

Breakfast with BFF on the beach...pure perfection!

So the entire trip was as perfect as it could have been. The premiere was fun, although  I DEFINITELY almost went bananas in a terrible, very bad way whilst in the trillion-person line to retrieve our cell phones after the screening. I fell absolutely, positively in love with little Taylor all over again. I still want to put him in my pocket, feed him Reese’s Puffs cereal and let him watch football with me. (If that’s all you think I want to do with/to him…you’re delusional). ANYWAY, pros of the after party were mac-n-cheese, Crumb cupcakes, champagne and I managed to look hot. Cons of the after party were decorations that looked like an illegitimate, deformed child of a  Costco camping display and a really bad prom. Carnations and fake snow do not make an appropriate center piece for most occasions, most of all for a premiere party for the biggest movie of the year. Just saying.

So TO THE POINT…the celebrity guest list for this gig was leaked hours before. It so happened to include Kim Kardashian. You just had an A-HA! moment, right? Let me just say, as far as I know, she wasn’t there. On the off chance she was and I ran into her (i.e. stalked her down after a bottle of Cabernet), I made a solemn public promise to friends and fellow Cowboys fans on Facebook that I would not cause a scene. Although I have tried to stay Team Switzerland on this issue, it appears I must make an official statement on the RUMORED union of Miss Kardashian and Miles Austin.

Let there be no mistake, the day I found out, my intern thought someone had killed one of my dogs and I made multiple threats (in my head) to cancel my Shoe Dazzle account. After sleeping on the issue, I discovered I’m as okay with it as possible. There are many reasons to actually like Kim, other than the fact she’s smoking hot. She has a real figure, talks about her cellulite publicly and started a shoe of the month club. And I gotta give her mad props for moving up in the football player food chain. The only set back in my acceptance of their RUMORED relationship was on Friday during cocktails with my Cowboys group in Santa Monica, I was informed that Kim and Miles were apparently cozied up one night at Casa Vega…my absolute favorite restaurant in my former neighborhood. Not gonna lie, I felt a little violated.

But you can take it to the presses that CLSL is officially, albeit maybe a little begrudgingly, okay with Miles Austin dating Kim Kardashian. But probably only till the Taylor Lautner high wears off. Let’s be honest.

That's me! Number 19! I'VE HAD IT FOR A YEAR.

Home safe home from nasty and humid Orlando. Very, very happy to back in Los Angeles. I did jack nothing for Halloween, as I’m having a terrible time adjusting to both the time difference and now the time change. I did make it out to Santa Monica to hang with the Cowboys peeps yesterday, tis been awhile. I’ve decided that 10 a.m. games + bloody marys have taken 3rd place in my ultimate list of soul mates (right after peanut butter + chocolate and me + Taylor Lautner will be when he’s legal…as mentioned before). Anyhow, the Cowboys peeps? Yeah, they’ve decided I’m some sort of oracle thanks to the fact I’ve had a Miles Austin jersey for a year. Have I mentioned I’ve had my jersey for a year? Cause I’ve totally had my jersey for a year. They want to know who I’m buying next, Bennett? Ogletree? What they fail to realize is I put SO MUCH EFFORT into this relationship that I’m tired, fool. I just want to sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labor. You can’t force amazingness, yo.

A funny thing happened whilst walking into a movie theatre yesterday. As I was finding a seat in a sold out auditorium of “This Is It” I swear to Jebus I got the loudest SHOUT OUT ever for my jersey. This dude was like “Wow, Miles Austin…NICE!” I was like “I know.”

So that was a first. Dearest Miles, I’m invisible most of the time to folks…so between me getting a shout out and you getting your own post on Kissing Suzy Kolber, dude, it’s safe to say…YOU HAVE MADE IT.

Speaking of amazingness. And luck. I WON A PS3 LAST WEEK! True story! This makes me happy for multitudes of reasons. I owned a PS3 at one point in time, but I lost it in the Heinous Split of 2008. So here I’ve sat with Blu Rays and no way to play them and a burning itch to finally learn how to play Madden. Not only that, but I use to be pretty bad ass at the EA NHL game. Now you can bring it on, bitches.

There was totes something else I was going to say, but I don’t remember what. Plenty of posts coming this week if I’m not coming down with the pig flu. And I don’t have time for the pig flu, cause I have the Vegas in THREE DAYS!

Before I forget, I have to send a shout out to the bartenders of and highly recommend High Voltage, the sports bar at Marriott World Center in Orlando. Those guys were the shit, despite the fact one was a Philly fan. They were so cool to me, the only girl and only person in a jersey for almost four hours Sunday before last. Three beers and two Miles Austin TDs later I was everyone’s BFF. Especially the guys from Buffalo sitting next to me who kept offering to give TO back and the table of Patriots fans behind me who tried to get my attention for two hours and finally cracked me with “everyone knows Romo is just an ugly version of Brady”. That one got me.

It’s been a very, VERY busy time at CLSL the last 12 days. And I have you to thank for that, Readers. Well, mostly Miles Austin and all the crazyspices searching for information about his personal life or pictures of him nekkid. But you, too. In those 12 days my hits have been into the multitudes of thousands, numbers I’d reached all together in the MONTHS leading up to the switch to the official domain. Months, not days. It’s pretty bad ass. Because of that I made a few changes. I fancified the header, having Photoshop back in my life has its advantages. Thanks, again, to the quote from LittleMoe. Anyone who uses Varsity Blues to compliment a person is aces in my book. I re-did the about me section and added an FAQ page. Did I make most of the questions up? Absolutely. However, I just KNOW that people actually think them.

It’s search term share time again. As always, I’ve got some doozies. The stuff you people look for on the interwebs is astounding. But entertaining nonetheless. Especially since it somehow leads you here. I’ll take what I can get.

1. “[insert several athletes names here] nude.” Next to general searches for Miles Austin and Jamie Langenbrunner, pervs looking for nekkid athletes is at the top of the list of what leads people here. I hate to disappoint them ALL, but there’s nothing here about any nude players. That’s better left for the imagination.

…wait, what were we talking about?

2. “lady giants patron.” I don’t even know what this means. And it’s generated several hits. Am I missing out on something? Is this some new hip cocktail the kids are drinking?

3. “me at the bengals game.” I’m dead serious. Someone typed that in. I know how it led them here, but still, it’s hilarious. What goes through someone’s head when they search for that? Let me do some googling to find out if there’s anything about me being at a pro football game. Cause I’m kind of a big deal.

Not really. But welcome!

4. “matt niskanen lost myself lyric.” Hmmm…a Niskanen original recording? “matt niskanen dating”. I wouldn’t call what young hockey players do dating. “real men wear pink niskanen ad campaign.” A hockey player, recording artist AND model…apparently.

5. “tony romo gay caught with marion barber”. SERIOUSLY? Whoever you are, I’m glad you have the internet to hide behind. Barber will cut you.

6. “miles austin eye color.” They’re a color I like to call GORGEOUS. (Too much?)

7. “character traits of Donovan McNabb.” Is mentally unstable a character trait? How about insecurity? Jackassery? I’ll stop.

8. “ed hochuli penis.” I can’t make this up. Cause WHY would I make that up?

9. “crazy lil sports lady.” True story! And that’s me! *waves*

10. “taylor lautner longhorn.” HA! My plan, it’s working…

The downside of talking about Taylor is the sudden appearance spam comments linking to naked pictures of Miley Cyrus and Kim Kardashian. Since THOSE are applicable to this blog. Well, apparently anyone naked is. Good times.

Readers, I really hate Mondays. The only things I hate worse than Mondays are the Eagles, Scott Gomez, the 101 and water chestnuts. What makes this Monday particularly atrocious: we open a movie on Friday so there’s potential for mutiny in the office, I HAVE to go grocery shopping after work and no one likes that (if you do, you’re a weirdo), I couldn’t care less about tonight’s MNF, I’m fighting off the bitterness of losing my first fantasy football game (by less than five points; McGahee – you’re on my shit list, son) and it’s so gloomy outside I should be at home under two blankets, snuggled with the pooches, watching Battlestar Gallactica, drinking hot chocolate topped with a scoach of Bailey’s. Mmm.

In a painful effort to be positive (blurgh) I do have to say that today is somewhat bearable because I managed to put makeup on before noon, am loving my new scarf from Old Navy, have a cold, cold Diet Coke on my desk (the elixir or life), the newness and lickability of the Taylor Lautner Rolling Stone photo shoot hasn’t worn off (my heart dies every time they put a football in that kid’s hands) and the interwebs are totes overloaded with Miles Austin.

Record breaking run

I feel like I’ve spent the last year and a half on the campaign trail for this young, blue-eyed wideout from Jersey (yeah, I try to forget that tidbit) to become the next President of the Dallas Cowboys Receiving Core. I don’t think ANYONE was ever listening to me or taking me seriously. Can’t really say I blame you, but it’s whatever now…cause eff you. Nikki FTW.

As an uber fan, it’s imperative to stick to your man through thick and thin. However, (here’s the segue from one version of today’s topic to the next…wait for it…) at what point does a TEAM stop sticking with a player through thick and thin? Tis a tricky predicament, that one. I hear this is a business, after all.

Last week I caught most of ESPN’S “30 on 30″ about Edmonton trading Gretzky to LA. Holy pucks the uproar that caused…the GM’s family even had to leave town. Koo koo Canadians. Not that I can blame them, that would be like America gifting the Statue of Liberty to Canada. We’d have to do more than just call shenanigans. Anyhow, in addition, several weeks ago PTI covered Phillies’ pitcher Brad Lidge’s horrific slump towards the end of the MLB regular season. Kornheiser commented that during the playoffs “you cannot put a guy out there you don’t have confidence in.” True story…perhaps?

How the Oilers and Phillies handled each of these situations was dependent upon what was best for the organizations, not what the fans wanted. In the end, Gretzky is now responsible for the explosion of hockey in Los Angeles, if not the entire Western United States and Lidge led the defending champs to a 6-5 victory over the Rockies last night to take a 2-1 lead in the NLDS. A personal example: I was destroyed when the Stars left Petr unprotected during the 1999 expansion draft and Atlanta took him. DESTROYED. But although his pro career didn’t last long afterward, he spent the majority of it in the NHL, made the All Star Team as a rookie and won a world championship. Chances are none of that would’ve happened if he’d stayed with the Stars. And I got to go to Atlanta and Calgary! Good times. Sometimes you just gotta let it play out.

Open issues

Having said that, there are some major issues on the table in Dallas. Do the Cowboys stand by Romo? Do the Stars stick with Turco? Both are huge fan favorites, but these aren’t questions that just popped up last week. These are 2-3 year-old problems. Neither of these guys have proved their worth in the playoffs. And right now neither of them are proving consistency in the regular season. I know it’s early, but again, these are long term open wounds. Not one of my mystery bruises that randomly pop up after I’ve been drinking. I don’t even know how *I* feel about what should be done. Although you’ll never see me wearing his jersey, I like Romo, he seems like a good dude. But damn. And Turco is even tougher. I have personal ties to him that make it heart-wrenching, so I kinda avoid talking about him. I really can’t imagine Marty on another team.

But at the end of the day, I’m honest enough to admit that my loyalty is to the teams over any individual player and selfish enough to say I want to see the Stanley Cup and Lombardi Trophy back in Dallas. No team should sell their souls for or buy a championship (*cough* Yankees) but changes, albeit temporarily hurtful to the fans, sometimes have to be made.

So CLSL is official. The beginning of our new layout is up and running. It’s far from finished, but we’ll get there. I absolutely love it so far. Anyhow…let’s talk pre-season.

There are those who don’t give two thoughts about pre-season and have no patience for it, those who follow it lightly…then there are those, like me, who think it’s one of the best times of a season. September was the most important month of my life in high school and most of college due to hockey pre-season. I skipped the occassional morning class in college for training camp and arranged my work schedule around pre-season games. That’s about as rebellious as I got until I started drinking. And trust me, there was a good reason why my hockey player stalking days were well before my drinking days.

For me and hockey, training camp meant the young guys were in town. But once they started getting younger than me, that just got a little creepy! (So says the girl who previously stated she’s waiting for Taylor Lautner to turn 18…) For any sport though, it’s predominantly a very exciting part of the season. It’s the one time a year that every player on the field is working his ass off for something: getting over that previous season ending injury, dusting off the off-season cobwebs, moving up a spot, grabbing a position on the starting line-up, landing a new or bigger contract or most importantly, just making the team. The possibilities are endless…I mean who would’ve thought this time last year the Cardinals would’ve ended their season in the Super Bowl? During pre-season everything is still bright and shiny. It’s after Thanksgiving when things start getting dark, fuzzy and depressing once you realize your QB is going to go stupid on you yet again.

Although pre-season is indeed the epitome of possibility, it’s pretty ridiculous to leverage a season worth of potential on ONE DROPPED PASS. Or, perhaps, a pass that couldn’t even be caught? John Kitna sent a soaring pass clear over Miles Austin’s head last Friday against the Titans. Romo did the same thing against the Raiders. A couple of days later I searched Miles’s name on Twitter. Huge mistake. People are morons. Shortly after someone properly reported Kitna overthrowing the pass to Austin, several idiots tweeted comments like “Austin you had your chance, you’re out”. Wait, seriously? The man has has a 43″ vertical, yes, but where exactly was he supposed to catch that pass? Two rows up in the stands? Everyone fancies themselves a head coach right now and it’s grating. I’m not retarded, I know Crayton more than likely has a hold on the 2nd spot. But he’s YET to prove he can consistently hold on to the ball. None of us have seen every hour of training camp. And it’s damn ridiculous for anyone, especially a knowledgeable, professional journalist to judge his long-term capability on having three chances, including the two that were overthrown, in two games. For example, from the JJT over at the DMN:

Miles Austin has been OK, but hasn’t showed he can be a legitimate speed threat.

First of all, we already know he’s fast. Second of all, it would be kinda ludicrous for him to blaze a flipping trail down the field WITHOUT THE BALL. Just saying. At least MILES agrees with me:

But Austin isn’t worried about his lack of preseason production. He’s still confident that he’ll play a significant role in the passing game this season.

“I’d rather do it in the season when it really counts and matters,” said Austin, who split time with Sam Hurd in three-receiver sets against the Titans. “I’m making sure I’m at my spot, making sure I’m at my depth and trying to get open. If they throw me that ball, that’s fine. If they don’t, as long as we’re winning …”

And YES…I’m completely biased. I’m not ashamed. (Have I mentioned at least 80% of my visitors are searching Miles Austin?)

BTW, fantasy draft is now this weekend. And I have a birthday party in Hollywood to go to the night before. Rules were meant to be broken I suppose.

Texas brews its beer just as good as its women. Yeah, that's me in UT orange with a Shiner at a 105-degree party. It's like I never left TX.

Drinking is a funny thing. I realized tonight whilst trying to decide upon a cocktail at dinner that I don’t think I’ve touched (or even sniffed) tequila in over two months. By all means, correct me if I’m wrong…it happens on occasion. Also, if you’ve not visited Texts From Last Night, I HIGHLY suggest you do so (after you finish reading this). It’s chalk full of drunk little ditties. Howev, this is absolutely priceless:

“If it’s vodka, everyone is attractive. Tequila, everyone is dead sexy, single and f*ckable.”

I think tequila and I are on a trial separation. The first fallout I had with alcohol was with red wine after my company Christmas party in 2002. However, looking back it really wasn’t the wine’s fault that I hadn’t eaten all day. That was a knockdown drag out, ass-kicking, physical sort of fight. Death would’ve been better the next day than having to put on a happy face and go to my then boyfriend’s parents’ house and pretend I was a-okay. It took me two years to even smell red wine without wanting to hurl. True story. This fallout with tequila is different, it’s emotional. That’s even worse. But I believe in second chances in most cases, therefore, I have a blind date with what’s supposed to be the best Orange County margarita Saturday after next. We’ll see how it goes. I’m optimistic and will be packing an overnight bag, just in case things go well. *wink*

I’m a firm believer that alcohol and sports are just as much soul mates as chocolate and peanut butter. Or me and Taylor Lautner will be when he’s legal. Seriously, he’s a huge football fan and, AND!!! I even read he’s a Longhorn fan. Hook ‘em.

Anyway, I digress. So my fantasy football draft is the same day as my margarita date. THANKFULLY the draft is hours before things could potentially get messy. Because I have one rule this year: thou shall not be drunk (or still drunk) during thy draft. Last summer was a very messy time for me, I did a LOT of drinking in general, but the night before the draft I hit the WeHo bars pretty hard. Happy hour at 6 p.m. turned into me standing up mid-cocktail around 1 a.m yelling “O.M.G. I have to go, my fantasy football draft is in six hours.”  Trust me, THOSE words have never been yelled in West Hollywood before (or since). Although I had my research done and picks sorted weeks prior to the draft, I was not in good shape otherwise. My league runs on Central time. I, obviously, do not. I had to be online at 6:45 a.m. I slept through my first alarm, woke up around 6:55 a.m. and ran circles around my apartment trying to find my laptop (naturally I forgot I’d actually plugged it in by the bed the day before). I got online, tried to focus and make sure everything was in order and answered my friend Eric’s countless text messages with yes, I promise I was alive…but was pretty sure I was still drunk.

It's a strip club, man! I'm here to work!

I had it all under control until about the time we hit the third round. Oh no, what happened then you ask? I totally started puking between picks. Although that wasn’t exactly ladylike, did I ever miss a pick? No, of course not. I’m a firm believer in puke and rally. Billy Bob would’ve been proud.

P.S. The Cowboys, albeit mostly the fifth string they picked up off the street, will be on my TV Thursday night. Word.