just one more reason why i'm the biggest idiot to walk the face of the earth:

I didn't vote yesterday because I realized that I'm not currently registered to vote. Anywhere.

I didn't get to vote in 2000 because I wasn't old enough - I turned 18 a mere days after the polls closed. I did register to vote (in Lake County) immediately after that, though, and submitted my choices via absentee ballot while away at college in 2004. Although I've been living in Jasper County for the last three years, I never renewed my license until January of this year, when I turned 25. (Actually, I turned 25 in November and didn't realize that I was running around with an expired license until one random day in January.) I distinctly remember the woman at the DMV asking if I'd like to register to vote in Jasper County, and I said, "No, I'm already registered in Lake County, thanks."

My flawed logic didn't become apparent in my air-filled head until yesterday at 4:25 p.m. - an hour and 35 minutes before the polls closed.

I was on the phone with a friend, asking where our Jasper County voting site was, when I remembered that I never registered here. No big deal - I could leave for Lake County (where I used to live) right after work, easily cast my vote before 6:00, and treat my political awareness to some Chipotle for dinner. So I hung up and called my mom to see where she voted. During our chat, she reminded me that I'd need my license. "Mom, I wouldn't be driving all the way up there without my license....." I said, ever the smartass. Then we started talking about what we should barbeque for Mother's Day this weekend. Right in the middle of saying that I'd love to have some grilled broccoli, I blurted out: "Oh my God! I renewed my license!"

My mom thought I was bonkers, so I explained the situation to her. Her response? "Oh well - you were going to vote for Obama, anyway. Good!" And then she laughed. My mom, obviously, is a Clinton supporter.

I spent the better part of my evening convincing myself that Obama would win in a landslide, and my one measley vote would have just been icing on his cake. Watching CNN last night, I had to work overtime to make myself believe that the "Indiana Too Close to Call" headlines would read "Obama Sweeps Indiana" by the time my alarm went off in the morning. Even though I had been so excited for weeks that my vote in Indiana would actually mean something this year, I began secretly praying that my individual vote wouldn't mean anything. I didn't want Clinton to win by one or two votes. I didn't want to be left knowing that if I hadn't been such a moron, I really could have made a difference.

Well, forget that! She won my state by 2%.

Looking at the results this morning, I guess I wouldn't have made much of a difference at all. Obama won in Lake County with 56%, and Clinton won in Jasper County with 65%. No matter where I was registered, I'd have just been a number. But I'm still not comforted.

I hate that I missed being a part of something monumental for Indiana because of a stupid oversight on my part. I've never been terribly political - and, admittedly, I do think that Clinton will excel in the Presidency should she get elected - but I was really hoping to physically pull that lever and declare, even if just to myself, my belief in Obama. I rarely take a firm stand on current issues, and it started to feel good to know that before the end of the day, I would change that about myself. I'm just disappointed in myself, I guess.

spotted on my way to lunch

A bumper sticker that read:

I Played D&D Before It Was Cool

.......?

Is D&D cool now? Did I miss that boat? Do I need to stop tormenting my ex-D&D-fanatic friends? I really wish I would have been notified so I could vote in the Dungeons and Dragons Council of 2008. Recount.

double standards

Do you ever wonder why it's okay for fans to wear team jerseys to sporting events but not artist t-shirts to concerts? You'll get crucified for wearing a Pearl Jam shirt to a Pearl Jam show, but you'll get crucified for not wearing red and blue to a Cubs game.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't, I guess.

??????????

Anyone want to tell me why my blog traffic suddenly exploded since Friday? Are there seriously that many people that want to tease me about my girly wine consumption? Even people in Kuwait and Norway think I'm lame?

(More to come about my super awesome weekend - busy day today!)

bejeweled and bedazzled

I sang at the wedding of an old college roommate this weekend, and I was very surprised when she handed me a beautiful gift bag at the rehearsal dinner. I was more surprised when I looked inside and saw this:

(my crude re-tying of original immaculate package)

I've never been a person who's needed or even really wanted expensive, sparkly things. I'm not a big jewelry buff - I sometimes wear earrings, and that's about it. But when I first looked down and saw that lovely blue box, my heart started racing. Then, coming to my senses, I thought, "Oh - Jen must have wrapped it up to make it look like it was from Tiffany's." I know Jen better than that, though.


Yes, my friends - I am now the very grateful owner of a real, live pair of Tiffany earrings. I tried putting them in my jewelry box next to the rest of my earrings - admittedly, most of which come from Claire's - but it just didn't feel right. They looked awkward in a sea of cheap plastic hoops and gold-covered posts. You know where they don't look awkward, though?

(that's not hair growing out of my ear, I promise)

That's right. I've been wearing them since Saturday afternoon, and I might just wear them for the rest of my life. The posts are a little short, and they sort of squeeze my ears a bit, but that won't stop me from hoping to be buried in them. Every day, women sacrifice comfort for style, and I'm proud to say that I've now joined the ranks of millions of uncomfortable but fashionable women.

Jen, if you're reading this - I think it's safe for you to throw out the receipt.

national hug a redhead day...

...was last Friday.

(According to Facebook, anyway, which I'm just starting to get into and which I now totally love because it scored me free hugs.)

I'm just now getting back on track with my posting after having taken several vacation days this month and a long Easter weekend... so this is what you're left with, dear friends. Two weeks worth of belated Fridge Fridays, my fifth 25x365, and a week-old picture of my daddy and I doin' our thang as redheads of the world.

We are pretty damn hott, though, so you can take it or leave it. (Take it, please!)

you probably didn't know

I'm most self conscious about my eyebrows.

I'm very obsessive about numbers. I can't function until I know everything in my apartment, car, and office is a multiple of 5 or ends in a 3 or 7. There are very few things I want more in this world than a dog. I drink seven glasses of water every day. I miss having a friend nearby to watch bad TV with. I sleep on my stomach, and I hate the feel of a top sheet.

I love Cheez-Its more than is humanly possible. Sometimes I dream about leaving everything and everyone I know behind and reinventing myself in an exotic country; I know I would never be able to leave my family. I can't decide if that makes me feel comforted or just plain sad. I sing jazz songs very quietly in the shower every morning.

I love to flirt, but I only do it with people I'm not interested in. I have pretty eyes, dimples on my cheeks, and small hands. I hate shoe shopping. I've been a spontaneous crier my whole life. I often try to cover this fact up by feigning a sudden attack of sneezes. I chew the insides of my cheeks and lips habitually. I constantly misspell my signature on credit card receipts.

(I stole this idea from This Fish.)

fish in a barrel

I used to think there was nothing more embarrassing than being out with a male friend... (who you may just happen to have a bit of a crush on)... and having someone mistake the two of you as a couple. A married couple.

Once upon a time, P and I went to get some dinner and see a movie. After the movie, he wanted to stop at a nearby music store and get some guitar picks. We ended up hanging out for quite a while, looking at the instruments and watching the Dave Matthews Central Park DVD that the clerk had playing. A couple hours later, when we went to check out, the clerk said to P, "You spent a lot of time with those guitars - your wife must be bored out of her mind." He went right on ringing up the packages of picks while my heart stopped and I nearly died, right there on the dirty, guitar-string laden floor.

Neither P nor I said anything for a minute - he was probably just as stunned as I was - and the clerk handed him the bag. "You two have a nice night, now... take your wife some place special." I found my voice before P could.

"I'm not his wife... he's not my husband... we're not married," I stammered, my cheeks beginning to burn. P laughed awkwardly - "We're just friends," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry - I saw the ring on her finger and just assumed. You make a nice couple anyway, for what it's worth."

P and I smiled politely, walked quickly to the parking lot, and got in his truck without a word. Once I was buckled in, I glanced down at my left hand - my grandmother's ring. Dammit. I had forgotten that I had begun wearing it on that hand once the chain that I used to wear around my neck broke. It only fit my ring finger on my left hand.

"That was weird, huh?" he asked. I laughed. "Yeah... what a strange guy." P turned up the music, and we drove home, the comfortable silence that was our friendship slowly settling back in around us, filling the cab and the gaps between us.

I don't even know if he remembers that night. For a long time, my embarrassment continued, and I wondered if P resented me for it at all. He knew about those feelings I used to have for him, and the whole situation in the music store sort of felt like fate rubbing it in my face that I'd never have what I had wanted so badly at the time. I used to think there was nothing more awkward than that.

Until last weekend.

I met my dad in Hammond so he could help me get some new tires for my car. We walked into the store, and I instantly felt high from the smell of rubber. The foul-mouthed man behind the counter talked to my dad, and I stood next to him silently. Finally the clerk seemed to realize there was a woman present in the room full of tough car men and said, "Excuse my language, hon." I smiled politely. Then he said to my dad: "I hope these tires aren't a Valentine's Day present! That's an easy way to find yourself in the doghouse," and he winked at me. In the back of my mind, I knew what he was insinuating, but I'm blaming my silence on the tire fumes. My dad started to make his way outside, and the clerk yelled to him, "I'll just give the change to your wife here."

"Daughter," I said, dejectedly. Immediately I began silently reassuring myself that all the comment meant was that my dad looks young for his age... not that I look old for mine.

"Oh! Sorry." He laughed, my dad laughed, I laughed - but I'm sure I was the only one who was faking it. "She's not my wife... I'm 50 years old," my dad said as he opened the door. Mortified, I followed him out, where we joked about it for the duration of his cigarette. As soon as we walked back inside, the clerk handed me the keys, said they'd pushed my car to the front of the line and everything was ready to go.

"I'm really sorry if I embarrassed you, sweetie," he said to me with a wink. To my dad, he said, "Sir, you really just don't look 50!"

My dad had a grand time telling the story to my mom when we got back to their house, and I'm glad at least someone got some enjoyment out of the situation. On my way home that night, I bought my very first jar of anti-wrinkle cream. I told my dad I can't be seen alone with him in public for another 4-6 weeks. He seemed okay with it.

don't make fun of me, but...

...I really like scrapbooking.

Two of my best friends just had a baby earlier this month (who I still haven't been able to visit), and I've been working my patootee off trying to convince K that she needs to start scrapbooking.

I'd do it myself if I had anything special in my life to document. Here are some memories I'd be preserving if I hopped on the wagon right now:

- The day my landlord finally fixed the leaky pipe on my toilet
- The deliciousness of the burger I had at Scottie's Brewhouse over the weekend
- Fitting all my trash into one bag for pickup this week
- Resisting the terrible urge to buy a new Coach last month (just what I need)
- Finally finishing a story for work that I've been stuck on for almost a week
- The totally incredible experience of seeing Ben Folds live in concert (wouldn't be able to include that one until after Friday!)
- The super long workout I forced myself to complete Friday night and the super healthy and Lent-friendly veggie dinner I made afterwards
- The let down of Almay's smart shade blush
- My four new tires, also known as the most boring way to drop three hundred bucks
- The late arrival of all the new books I ordered from B&N
- My newly-organized closets
- The fact that I've had a houseplant since September that I haven't yet killed

Riveting, huh? I can sense that you're all on the edge of your seats, your mice (mouses?) poised over the scroll bars.

Anyway, K - if you're reading this - please let me live vicariously through your pinking shears, frilly paper, and little stickers. I'm begging you.

june cleaver in training

When it really comes down to it, I'm a pretty old fashioned girl. At the risk of being burned at the stake, here are some things I believe to be truths:

• A woman should do the majority of the cooking and cleaning.
• A man should always ask a woman out and never vice versa.
• A man should always make the first move, and never vice versa.
• A woman should take care of a man domestically, and a man should be the breadwinner.

I don't know what it is about me that makes people think I'm a feminist. Is it because I enjoy working? I just try to make the best of an enevitable task. Is it because I wear pants rather than skirts? I hate my calves. Is it because I swear like a sailor? I just like to, that's all. Everyone always seems so surprised - and ultimately disappointed, but we'll get to that later - when I betray myself and let on that I'm much more old fashioned than anyone, apparently, has ever thought.

Just a few weeks ago, I was chatting with some women at work, and one of them mentioned how sick her husband was and that he was at home moaning on the couch at that very moment. She looked right at me and said, "But I don't feel bad for him - I shouldn't have to take care of him when he's sick. Don't you agree with me?" I backed out of the question politely... I have a knack for emergency subject changes... but later in the day, the topic came up again. "Becky thinks I should be home waiting on my husband hand and foot, don't you, Becky?" she provoked the group at large. "Becky's one of 'those' type of women, aren't you, Becky?" I smiled and went about my day, slightly embarrassed by her lack of tact, but not ashamed of my personal choice of values.

In college, I wrote a poem called Rosie's Advice for an English class. It was about how I constantly felt like I should be more of a feminist - how I felt like something was wrong with me for wanting to cook and clean and let a man do all the heavy lifting. I was a freshman at the time and didn't realize that the professor was a diehard feminist. The day that he returned our graded poems to us, he made an example of mine. I had to read it to the class and talk about the feelings that went into the writing of it, and he - along with the others in the room - critiqued it aloud. (Sidenote: feminist though he was, I still got an A on the poem because I have big boobs. Apparently he wasn't that much of a feminist... or he just recognized a good rack when he saw one.) A fledgling friendship with a woman who would later turn out to be my role model began in that class with the notion on her part that I shared her views on feminism. She was surprised to find that I didn't.

Most recently, I was going out to dinner with my mom and dad, and whoever was on the radio at the time made a joke about Hillary Clinton's candidacy. My dad and I laughed and shared a glance via the rearview mirror, while my mom playfully yelled at me from the front seat. "Don't laugh at that! You don't have to laugh at it just because he [indicting my dad] thinks a woman shouldn't be president." My dad just rolled his eyes, but I spoke up. I told my mom that I didn't think a woman should be president, either.

If she was driving, we would have ended up in a ditch, so severe was her reaction. She asked me - several times - in disbelief - if I was serious. Being a woman myself, how could I honestly say that a woman shouldn't be president? I ran through a couple of points, she rebuttaled each one, and then dropped the ultimate bomb on me:

"I'm so disappointed in you, Beck."

In 25 years of life, neither one of my parents has ever said that to me. I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of me, and it took me a moment to catch my breath. She apologized a second later, said she didn't mean she was disappointed in me, perse, but more in my belief. She said she thought she raised me better than that - I said there's nothing wrong with the way she raised me, that I'm proud of and grateful for the fact that she (and my dad, too) raised me to make up my own mind, form my own opinions. "I just didn't think that would be one of those opinions," she said.

In the end, we agreed to disagree, and I - of course - wasn't angry at her reaction. I think it's a common feeling amongst women today. When most women encounter someone who could single-handedly render the Women's Movement useless, I think the natural instinct is to rebel, to fight for what they value.

I'm very grateful for the women (and men) who long ago fought so hard to give me the right to work, vote, and earn a comparable wage. I'm grateful for the respect they earned for us, and I love that they've given me a plethora of choices. But I think the Movement was all about choices, and if I don't have the right to make up my own mind about gender roles, then I think the Movement itself is, in turn, made obsolete.

I love strong women - women who can hold their own and aren't afraid to leave the safety of The Way Things Have Always Been. And I have the utmost respect for them. But sometimes I have to wonder... what makes their choice better than mine? Just because it's more progressive?

my friends call me "the merc."

I was listening to the news over the dull roar of my hair dryer this morning, and I only caught the tail end of the report: "...the fire on the fifth floor of the Chicago Board of Trade."

I was just at the Chicago Board of Trade last night... and our event took place on the 5th floor.

My internet at home was out this morning (stupid cable), so I rushed into the office to visit the Tribune's website. Thank goodness the fire was in an area restricted to us last night.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/business/chi-ap-il-boardoftrade-fire,0,5623802.story

That place, by the way, is incredible. Trading had ended by the time we got there, but our reception area was overlooking the pit, and it truly was awesome. I would love to go back sometime while the market is open - I even learned the hand signals for bid and offer and that certain traders get to wear hilarious jackets to set them apart from the others. I think I'm ready to invest, no?

Oh, and by the way...

... I apologize to anyone who read this post and whose resolution was set in such a way that the only visible parts without scrolling down were the title "Twenty-Four" and the unbelievably sexy picture of Jack Bauer and assumed the story would be about the show and the insane hotness of its lead character. I really am sorry to disappoint. I wanted it to be about that, too.

I'm also sorry for the length and run-on-ed-ness of the first sentence of my previous apology. And for the multiple uses of the word "and."

With Halloween coming...

and in honor of this nasty cold-throat-sinus thing that's been plaguing me for almost two weeks... here's a totally lame joke I got in an e-mail this afternoon. Truth be told... it made me laugh. Just a little.

***

A man was walking home alone late one foggy night, when behind him he heard:

BUMP...
BUMP...
BUMP...

Walking faster, he looked back and through the fog he made out the image of an upright casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him:

BUMP..
BUMP...
BUMP...

Terrified, the man began to run toward his home, the casket bouncing quickly behind him:

FASTER...
FASTER...

BUMP...
BUMP...
BUMP...

He ran up to his door, fumbled with his keys, opened the door, rushed in, slammed and locked the door behind him.

However, the casket crashed through his door, with the lid of the casket clapping:

Clappity-BUMP...
Clappity-BUMP...
Clappity-BUMP...

On his heels, the terrified man ran.

Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locked himself in. His heart was pounding; his head was reeling; his breath was coming in sobbing gasps.

With a loud CRASH the casket broke down the door, bumping and clapping toward him.

The man screamed and reached for something, anything, but all he could find is a bottle of cough syrup!

Desperate, he threw the cough syrup at the casket... and...

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

The coffin stopped.

Some days you just don't even know who you are anymore.

I need to say something... if only to further convince myself that I am a lunatic. I have spent the better part of today Googling someone I used to know a few years ago. I haven't talked to, seen, or really even thought of this person in a long time... but something about today made me remember him. And I haven't been able to get him out of my head all day - so much so that I spent nearly two hours searching the internet for even the tiniest morsel of his life. I can't stop wondering what he's like now... where he is... who he's with... what he's doing...

I found his Myspace and read his comments. Then I read the comments on one of his friend's pages just so I could see how he writes, what his style is like.

I found the homepage of the newspaper he works at and read some of his articles.

I found his professional resume and his e-mail address.

I found his AIM nickname.

And those are just the highlights. I'm not kidding, I was a super sleuth. But now I feel guilty, like I did something wrong or invaded his privacy. Everything I found was public information, available to anyone on the internet... but still, I can't help but feel like it wasn't mine to see. That I had no right to track him down, and that it's wrong for me to still be thinking about him right now.

Ever since I found his e-mail address, I've been wanting to write to him. But I have absolutely no idea what I'd say. How would I explain finding all his information? He'd waste no time in seeing how insane I am, and he'd probably call the cops or get a restraining order or something. Or worse... never respond and delete my message from his inbox.

Can I tell a little lie? Can I say that I was cleaning up some old documents and came across his e-mail address? ...And leave the rest of my temporary insanity out of it? Honestly, I don't even know why it's so important that I get in touch with him... like I said, I haven't thought of him in years. And now, all of the sudden, I can't think of anything else.

Do I write to him? Or do I try my best to push him out of my mind again?

Still can't believe I actually did this.........

but that's Monday for ya.

I Am A:

Lawful Good Dwarf Ranger Bard

Alignment:
Lawful Good characters are the epitome of all that is just and good. They believe in order and governments that work for the benefit of all, and generally do not mind doing direct work to further their beliefs.


Race:
Dwarves are short and stout, and easily recognizable by their well-cared-for beards. They are hard workers, and adept at stonework and engineering. They tend to live apart from other races; generally in deep, underground excavated systems, and as such tend to be distant from other races.


Primary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.


Secondary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.


Deity:
Mielikki is the Neutral Good goddess of the forest and autumn. She is also known as the Lady of the Forest, and is the Patron of Rangers. Her followers are devoted to nature, and believe in the positive and outreaching elements of it. They use light armor, and a variety of weapons suitable for hunting, which they are quite skilled at. Mielikki's symbol is a unicorn head.


Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy ofNeppyMan (e-mail)

Falling off the face of the earth

"Put this in your profile if you are married to your job but frequently cheat on her with liquor and good times because -- well, she's a whore, anyways."

Usually I'm prone to negative feelings regarding "put-this-in-your-profile-if" jokes, but this one actually made me laugh out loud.

It also (sort of) explains where I've been lately. Things have been crazy around here - a lot crazier than usual.

• We just hosted the Division II men's basketball regionals this past weekend...
  
• I just finished up my second class at DePaul last week (final paper and revisions due this week)...
  
• working on the next Contact...
  
• well, I guess that's about it. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it sure feels like it.

Some fun things that have happened recently include:

• my new haircut (hacked off about 8 inches or so)...
  
• Schafer/Money/Wes coming for a visit last night...
  
• Steve returning from his week-long vacation (which actually felt like an eternity)...
  
• sitting in on several of Girl Friday's classes last week...
  
• my brother getting his braces off (after complaining what a long time two years is to have to wear braces, except that I had to wear mine for almost seven)...
  
• my new shamrock plants :) ...
  

So I guess that's about it. Oh, and also........... HOLLA!!!

What's in a name?

Certainly not the truth.... not in my name, anyway.

Becky -- [noun]: A master blogger 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Happy Birthday to Me!!!

Important note: It is not really my birthday. I was trying to imply that going to bed early was a treat for me, much like a birthday present would be. Apparently I'm not very good at implying things... I'll try not to do that from now on. Sorry to cause alarm, Frema ;)

It is currently 9:50 p.m. - Thursday - January 5, 2006.

I am going to sleep. Right now. As soon as I click "Publish Post" and close the laptop, I'm outta here.

This is going to be absolutely fabulous.

*content sigh*

Nothing Substantial... But Still Something.

What is love? As far as I can tell, it is passion, admiration, and respect. If you have two, you have enough. If you have all three, you don't have to die to go to heaven.

Came across that line in a book I'm reading by Jane Green... just a nice thing to think about. That's a picture of my mom and dad at their 25th wedding anniversary party my grandparents, brother, and I threw them last May.

I hate blogging for the sake of blogging, but Frema's getting a little antsy and I did promise her I wouldn't post a meme and then forget about it for two months like before. Sorry, Frema - more to come later. Not much to write about right now.

49 Things About Yours Truly

Caption: Dr. Malone gave me the stuffed lion a few years ago because I won a drawing contest in his class. (We were reading Plato's Republic and had to draw a picture of the soul as it was described in the book - "courage" was a lion, and so was the prize for the best drawing.) Steve picked the pine branch from the tree in front of our office. It's sitting in a Mountain Berry-scented candle.

7 things you plan to do before you die
1. Visit Ireland
2. See Elton John live
3. Get married / start a family
4. Write a book
5. Get over my fear of heights
6. Live in a different country for a short time (or maybe just a different state)
7. Go on one of those "Ten European cities in five days" trips

7 things you can do
1. Wiggle my ears
2. Make people laugh
3. Sleep for fourteen hours and still wake up tired
4. Drink two entire bottles of champagne in one sitting (I threw up afterwards, of course)
5. Relate any life event to a Sex and the City episode
6. Write a magazine (for proof, go here!)
7. Watch an eight-hour Law and Order marathon without moving an inch

7 things you cannot do
1. Whistle with two fingers
2. Trigonometry
3. Shots of whiskey without getting sick
4. Ride in a car without singing along to the radio
5. Finish Pride and Prejudice
6. Feel comfortable walking into a party alone / sitting in a bar or restaurant alone
7. Read in a car without getting sick

7 things you never thought you'd do
1. Go to school / work with a hickey and not try to cover it up
2. Fail a class
3. Say the f-word in front of my grandma
4. Cry on the El
5. Almost halfway enjoy living alone
6. Get over my first boyfriend
7. Meet someone who has less self-confidence than I do

7 things that attract you to other people
1. Sense of humor / sarcasm
2. Kindness
3. Quiet intelligence
4. Long, curly, or red hair (all three? MARRY ME.)
5. Devotion / loyalty
6. Nice teeth
7. Family-oriented

7 things that you say most often
1. "You don't even understand."
2. "Holla!"
3. " [Blank] is the most/biggest [blank] in the history of the universe."
4. "Seriously.... I hate you."
5. "Bitches need to be slapped." / "Hoes need to be slapped."
6. "I'm not even gonna lie."
7. "WTF?"

7 celebrity crushes
1. Billy Collins
2. Tom Hanks
3. Brad Pitt
4. Dave Matthews
5. Eddie Vedder
6. Sarah Jessica Parker
7. Will Ferrell