I am turning into such a big, freakin' wimp.

Over the past couple of weeks the weather has been unpredictable, raining like crazy one day, then sunny the next. But the temperature has been fairly steady, topping out in the mid-high fifties each day. And once upon a time I would have been pleased as punch with that kind of temperature. I used to looove a cold sunny day, as well as cold rainy days, and would prance around in a skirt and blazer when everyone else was bundling up. (Maybe that's why I was warm, with the prancing and all.)

But now, now I'm wearing my big wool coat* practically every day, and I just replaced my lost gloves because I felt the coat wasn't keeping me warm enough. And I'm kicking myself for not wearing a scarf. It's a beautifully cold sunny day out and I need to bundle up.

I can't begin to tell you how much that annoys me.

*Yes, I know my wool coat isn't strictly vegan, but I bought it years before I gave up animal products, it's a gorgeous blueish-purpleish color (I'm always getting compliments on it) and it really does keep me warm most of the time. I'm just not ready to freeze my tucas off, ok?

Well, the Grammys were broadcast last night. I've only watched it a couple of times in my life, but I decided to check it out, since I was unable to watch SWEENEY TODD. (I was supposed to go last night, but I wasn't feeling too well and my car was acting up. Too bad, since it last night was supposedly a really good night. *shrug*)

I didn't watch all three hours, though. Between 9 and 10, I flipped channels between the Grammys and The West Wing, which I had never seen before, but since it was created by Aaron Sorkin, whose work I really enjoy on Sports Night, (the few times I've been able to see it), despite the frequent lapses into Mamet-like dialouge, I thought I'd check it out. The West Wing, that is. (Was that one of the longest sentences ever, or what?) I liked the little I saw.

Then, at the 10pm hour, ABC broadcast NYPD Blue. I've not watched the show much, but there's a new guy who is just stunning, Henry Simmons. I caught a glimpse of him in the current TV Guide and fell head over heels in lust. So guess who's going to be watching NYPD Blue the few times she's home on Tuesday nights?

Before I go into the actual awards, I just have one question: did a memo go out to all of the ladies (and a few of the men) telling them to show up in the homliest clothes they could find?

I don't expect anyone to dress as if they were going to the Oscars. And I like it when the clothes are different and funky, as long as they look good. But those folks were wearing some seriously ugly-ass threads.

So here's some unsolicited advice that the celebs will never see:

Jennifer Lopez, honey, just stop already. You're not looking sexy, you're just looking sad.

In a related note, David Duchovny, sweetie, your outfit looked a tad tight. Not your best look, and I happen to think you're pretty dishy.

TLC, what was with that freaking support underwear y'all were wearing to accept your award? Truly hideous. (Though I did like the jacket the blonde girl was wearing.) The whole fuzzy ball ensemble that you wore for your performance didn't work either. Just thought you should know.

Whitney, did you really think that rhinestone thing was a good look? If so, what were you on when you chose it? 'Cause I want to make sure I never take it. Oh, and Whitney, you're not looking too well. Eat something, ok? I worry. (Though I will never forgive you for ruining "I Will Always Love You". And frankly, you've been annoying the crap out of me over the last eight-to-ten years. Never mind, I'm not worried at all.)

Kid Rock, just to let you know: fur is never a fashion do. Unless it's faux fur.

Macy Gray's and Busta Rhymes' ensembles didn't do much for me either.

I'm sure there were other bad outfits, but I was too busy drooling over Henry Simmons on ABC.

But I liked Rosie's and Martina McBride's clothes, the Dixie Chicks looked fine, and Melissa Etheridge was quite classy.

Yea Santana! Carlos absolutely rules. I'd been wanting to pick up SUPERNATURAL for a while, because I'm in love with "Smooth", but I just hadn't gotten around to it. I'll be getting it now, especially since I found out that Eric Clapton recorded an instrumental duet with Carlos, for which they won a Grammy. Of course, once I hear that song I'm sure I'll pass out from sheer aural orgasm, but I've got to hear it.

Most of the performances that I saw left me very cold. I'm so tired of the spectacles. I kept hoping that Ricky would stumble into the flame (am I the only person who thinks he sucked last night, including his much lauded dancing?), Whitney would trip on the stairs in those hideous shoes and the rapping midget would trip up Kid Rock (whoever the hell that is).

Does that make me a bad person?

Just give me someone who knows how to sing their song and play their instruments, and does so with their love for the music shining through, and I'm riveted. Santana and Rob Thomas were great (though Rob's voice sounded a little rusty to me), the fellow from the Buena Vista Social Club makes me want to go out and buy their CD, Elton was fine (get rid of the Backstreet Boys, though, they annoy me to no end), the teen musicians were impressive. I'm just sorry that I missed the fiddlers and Diana Krall.

My home computer is back at my folks' place again, but not because it's acting up. Well, not exactly. I took it there so that Dad could install his old zip drive. Unfortunately, the scuzzy (SCUZI? sp?) card isn't being recognized by the computer and Dad can't load the software needed because the CD-ROM drive is broken. Not that I'm entirely sure how that happened.

(Word of advice: don't ever operate a CD-ROM when it's late and you haven't slept much. For some reason you may think it's a good idea to put a broken CD in the drive, though you're secretly thinking, "Boy, I sure hope this doesn't hurt the drive," but you absolutely have to finish that game you were almost done with which, though installed on the computer, cannot be played without the CD.

Not that it happened to me, oh no. It's all Edison's fault, yeah, that's it, that trouble-making kitty!)

I'm not even going to go into the whole "Multi-Millionaire Marriage" furor, 'cause others have provided links that go over the mess better than I could.

But I'm just shocked that it's not going to last.

Tune into...

"Um, Daddy? I think it's alien green slime time."