Check it Out Sacramento!

Up in Sacramento and if you're near a TV, I'll be on Fox 40 Live at around 7:50AM and on Sacramento and Co. on ABC between 9:00am and 10:00am. Links to the interviews are a comin' so stay tuned!

And hey, don't forget to enter your "worst date ever" in our Dating Disasters contest at: Shescrazyhesaliar.com. You could win a $500 shopping spree to Victoria's Secret, which is a whole lot of sexiness!

Moms, Boundaries and Hollywood Actors Part Two

And now for the conclusion of the saga between my Mother and poor, sweet actor Josh Lucas…

So after my Mother and I wagered a $200 bet on whether or not I'd receive an email from Mr. Lucas, I refrained from discussing the issue with her for fear of it deteriorating into a full-blown fight. About a month later, I unfortunately shared the story with a friend of mine and shortly after, I received an email from someone with the address joshlucas123@hotmail.com. It read as follows:

"Dear Cecily -
My name is Josh and I met your mother a few weeks ago in Texas. I really appreciated her forthrightness in speaking to me and was a little intrigued when she told me about you. I hope you don't mind that she gave me your e-mail address and I'm sorry it took me so long to write to you but I've been out of town on business.

I, too, am an actor and spend much of the year in Los Angeles. I'm sure we would have a lot to talk about and I would love to hear back from you whenever you get a chance and maybe we could meet up for coffee when I get back to L.A. It would be great to speak in person, as e-mail doesn't always tell the 'tale of the tape'.

Love, Josh"

Okay, so I read this and laughed and then made the huge mistake of SENDING IT TO MY MOTHER with the note, "I guess you were right. He really was into meeting me. You've got 200 dollars en route to you Madame!" But ya see, my mom didn't get the absurdity of it all and THOUGHT THE EMAIL WAS REAL. So even after I told her, "No, Mom. This was a joke. My friend sent this," she tirelessly argued with me, insisting, "If the email address has his name in it, it has to be real." This went on for months, with her repeatedly asking, "Did you write Josh Lucas back yet?" and "Where is my $200?" Finally, I had to get my buddy on the phone to explain that he had in fact sent the email and that it wasn't from Josh.

Reluctantly, my mother sent me my 200 bucks which I happily accepted and immediately signed over to my therapist. As for Josh, I hope he's happy even though we were never able to 'tell the tale of the tape' (whatever that means).

Thoughts about all of this? Please email them to me! I'd love to hear from you!

Moms, Boundaries and Hollywood Actors

Let me set this up for you. A few years ago, my Mom was on vacation in New York and saw Chris Noth (AKA Mr. Big) at a restaurant. As someone with little to no (okay absolutely no) boundaries, she went over to his table, sat down and told him she just "lovvvvvvvved Mr. Big" but that he should "stop treating Carrie so wishy-washy." Why he didn't call security is beyond me, but alas.

So cut to a few years later and my Mom has joined a Dallas film society which hosts advanced screenings of movies, followed by receptions with director/producer/actors. Some film came through and after flitting about the after-party, she settles upon actor Josh Lucas. Mind you, I thankfully wasn't there, but she relayed the play-by-play that I will now share.

Mom: "You were just precious in the movie."
Josh Lucas: "Thank you!"
Mom: "You have just the prettiest blue eyes! I bet people tell you that all the time."
Josh Lucas: "Oh sometimes…ya know…"
Mom: "You must have girls just hanging on your every word."
Josh Lucas: "Well, I…"
Mom: "My daughter is an actress in Los Angeles." (Note: not true)
Josh Lucas: "Oh?"
Mom: "Yes…and she's single. You should call her."
Josh Lucas: "Um..I…errr…"
Mom (starts digging around in her purse for her cell phone) "Let me just find her phone number for you." (Finds number and starts to write it down.)
Josh Lucas: "I'm not really a phone guy."
Mom: "Okay, well then let me give you her email." (She writes down my email.) "You better call her honeybuns. She's a catch."
Josh Lucas: "Will do."

My Mom then calls me later that night to tell me to "expect an email from Josh Lucas." I, mortified, tell her that's not going to happen and we wager a two hundred dollar bet.

For the follow-up to what happened with this insane exchange, tune in Monday!
Do you have similar stories of boundary-free parents or other insanity? Email them to me!

Open Letter to Jesse James

Hey Jesse James…how did that sex rehab go? Did ya get all the Bombshells out of your system? Just 28 days of talk about how your "inner sex addict" made you (allegedly) cheat repeatedly on your wife was probably all you needed to swear off tatted, chesty women forever…right? Don't you hate it when your "addict" tells you to wear swastikas and do "goofy, Nazi" poses? Oh those silly inner-sex-addicts!

I just hope that you and Tiger and Tiki Barber (did he go to rehab?) and Larry King (is he too old for rehab?) were able to heal properly, what with all that art therapy and exploration of why you might choose to lie over…and over…and over again to someone you have publicly claimed to love.

I can totally relate, buddy. I'm addicted to talking about you! Sorry if it bothers you, but I literally can't help it. My "Gossip-addict" is acting up again! You know how it goes. But hopefully through Gossip-Rehab, I'll learn how to pull it together. I'm also addicted to wearing my Snuggie to inappropriate places. Will 28 days of "Inappropriate Snuggie Re-hab" be enough?

Back to you: we're all rooting for you, Champ.

Signed, Every Scorned Woman
P.S. In the words of Ani DiFranco, "Just give up…and admit you're an a$$hole."
(Note: I realize this may sound a little angry so please forgive me. As a woman who has been cheated on, sometimes I get riled up when I hear of infidelity, but I probably just need "Scorned Woman Rehab". Okay, it's out of my system.)

Wanna talk about cheating men, women or anything else? Email me!

The Type of Girl Who...

As the deadline for the "Worst Date Ever" contest gets closer, I thought it was time to share one of my worst dating experiences. Had actually gone out with a guy a handful of times (let's say five) and we did all the "normal" things daters do. Dinner and a movie here, cocktails there, a few make-out sessions in his car, blah, blah, blah. It all seemed to be going well, so you might be as surprised as I was to hear that at the end of one of our lovely nights together, he said the following:

"Listen, Cec. Can I call you Cec?" (Not if you're about to say something lame, you can't.) Listen, so I've been dating this other woman at the same time as you (which was fine, seeing as how we were far from exclusive) and the thing is…Cec…Cester…Ceciloniky, that she's more the kind of girl, ya know, who you take home to meet Mom."

I suppose off my look of discomfort, he followed that up with, "Wait, that didn't sound right. What I mean is…she's the type of girl you have a relationship with and you're more like Ms. Funny pants." (I kid you not…he called me Ms. Funny pants. At least I wasn't Miss Funny Pants or Mademoiselle Funny Pants. It gets worse.) You know, like she's the type of woman who might leave a toothbrush at your house, but you…like you're just not that kind of person." What? Ms. Funny Pants doesn't leave toothbrushes? "Like, okay, ya see she's the woman who'd be like a real active PTA Mom and you…you're just…ya know, Cec." That's Ms. Cec Funny Pants to you, sir.

It went on and on and continued to get worse until I finally, thankfully, got out of the car. I don't know whatever happened in his relationship with that non-funny-pants wearing woman, but I do know that the guy sent me a friend request on Facebook recently. I guess he was sick of seeing toothbrushes laying around his apartment.

Make sure to enter our "Dating Disaster" contest on www.shescrazyhesaliar.com. You could win a $500 shopping spree to Victoria Secret, which might just make that bad date well worth it. Also, feel free to email me with comments, questions and even concerns to Shescrazyhesaliar@gmail.com

Commit Me, Now!

Here's an interview I did with an interesting website called "Commitment Now". I'm not so sure about the "journey to your soul-mate" part, as I'm not sure I believe in those (soul-mates, not journeys), but nonetheless, click here to check it out...

I would so love to hear from you! Please feel free to email me comments or questions and if you have an interesting take on "soul-mates," I may even post it!

You Stay Classy, San Diego

Just got back yesterday from San Diego, where I did an appearance on "San Diego Living" on the CW Network! Seeing as how "Anchorman" is one of my favorite movies, (my absolute favorite is "Broadcast News" which would explain why I cry so much), I couldn't stop thinking about Ron Burgundy, Champ and the rest of the gang. I looked on the prompter to make sure no one added a question mark to read "She's Crazy, He's a Liar's author, Cecily Knobler?" but it looked pretty clear. Had a good time with the host and I was happy that no one was wearing cologne made from "real panther". (Rent "Anchorman" if none of this makes sense.)

Here's a picture of me getting mic'd before the shoot and apparently enjoying it just a tad too much.



…and here's a link to the interview!

Flash
Windows Media Player

Please tell me that you have seen “Anchorman”? Let me know! Email me!

Just a Small Town Girl...

Did a little karaoke last night and when a fun-loving, UCLA-looking group got up to sing "Don't Stop Believin'", I had a flashback to my early 80s obsession with the band Journey. No, it wasn't on-par with my love for Duran Duran, (although with Journey, it was all about the songs, not the impossible good looks and puffy, white shirts of Simon LeBon.) I slow-danced to "Open Arms" with Tom Nesbitt (sorry Tom, if you're reading this, the truth must be known) and I played spin-the-bottle in our Waco playroom, while "Faithfully" gently played in the background. Oh and then there was the roller-skating. How the lights would flash different colors when "intense" songs came on like "Separate Ways" and "Who's Crying Now" and we'd all prematurely end our games of Ms. Pacman to rush out to the floor and really "feel it." ("Hold on to that fee…a…yeee…a…a…lin")

But like most wondrous things/obsessions with men, it all came to an end when I actually got to meet one of them. My Dad was the program director for a radio station and for some reason, they were running a contest in which the prize was "win a day of bowling with Steve Perry". Why wouldn't it be, right? Because everyone knows that the passionate singer for the power-ballad hit-makers had to be a good bowler, surely?

So when the big day came, of course I insisted on being there. I wore parachute pants and a fedora, for some reason and when my parents finally got around to introducing me to Mr. Perry, he barely looked my way. I realized, this man clearly doesn't care about me like I care about him. It seemed that our chances of making little Steve Perrys were now out of reach and I was devastated. Here I was, "coming to him…with open arms" like he'd asked me to and he was not reciprocating.

But guess who was there to pick up the pieces? Go on…guess. I'll give you a hint: it rhymes with "Ryan Adams" and involves the Summer of 69'. Yep, for some strange reason, Bryan Adams was also there; (I think he was the band's opening act) and when he saw Steve dismissing me, he immediately rushed over to tell me he liked my hat. Damn right he did. Mr. Adams saw the real me that day and Steve Perry totally missed out. Cuts like a knife, doesn't it Steve? Cuts like a knife. (For the record, I still love the band Journey and will sing along with them every time. But Steve and I are totally through).

Ever meet one of your heroes to find out that they weren't so amazing after all? Email me at Shescrazyhesaliar@gmail.com and tell me about it!

Doing A Little East Coast Swing...

Just got back from a great trip to Philly wherein I somehow refrained from a) eating a cheese-steak and b) talking about Donovan McNabb. And believe me, as a Dallas Cowboys fan, I wanted to discuss it with every single person I saw. The guy at the airport who got the cabs, the cab driver, the hotel bellman, the check-in guy, the room service guy. I wanted to say things like, "Hey, don't worry about getting the door. I can just McNabb it myself" or "I'm just gonna order the potato skins…and maybe some REDSKINS?" But I didn't say a single word. Not a one. That's not true, actually. But I was kind about it…Sort of.

Anyway, the trip was wonderful as was the trip to Indianapolis the day before. I had fun on the "Bob and Tom Show" and got to meet up with a really great woman whom I've worked with on-air for years, (she drove in from Ft. Wayne!) Plus, of course got to do some fun TV press for the book!

I realized I was getting exhausted and/or sick near the end, however, when I started crying over every single, little event. I kept a list and here it goes:

Cecily cried when…

1) There wasn't a Starbucks in the terminal
2) Big Mike was saved on "American Idol"
3) She saw how bad her hair looked on one of the talk shows…
4) No one would discuss Donavan McNabb with her
5) The sun set.
6) She passed the bar ("Smokes") where she used to hang when visiting her good friend Debbie in college. (That very same bar served her blue drinks which later caused her to throw up in a White Castle prompting an older gentleman to ask, "What you been drinking tonight? You ain't drinking no beer. What you been drinking? Mad Dog?" True story.)
7) The sun rose.

Just a tad tired…but still, all is good! And the "She's Crazy, He's a Liar" book tour continues…

Just to make me feel better, please comment or email me the 'craziest' thing you cried over. Remember, I cried once when I heard the song 'Gold Digger' by Kanye West.

T.V. Chit-Chat

Hey! Click here to check out my Interview on Let's Talk Live, Channel 8 in DC!

Heading back from Indy today! Next up, San Diego, and then hometown Dallas next week for a few appearances!

I'd love to hear from you! Email me your thoughts or questions to: Shescrazyhesaliar@gmail.com

Why Would You Name a Frat-House to Begin With?

Just a tad more on my recent book tour in Washington. I hadn't been back since I graduated years ago and I wondered if I always romanticized D.C. because I had so much fun there in college. It was, after all, the first city where I learned to shoot blue Jello-shots, where Redskin fans made me cement my love for the Dallas Cowboys, where I fell in love with someone while holding hands in a Georgetown park. Everything was so ridiculously new and hadn't been jaded yet by the Los Angeles out-of-work-actor pool. Even Bill Clinton (who I was and still am madly in love with,) had for the most part only shown himself to be an honest man, incapable of deceit. (For the record, I don't condone infidelity, but if Bill and Hillary had an "understanding," I wish I'd known his affinity for short, Jewish girls. Right here, Bill. Right here.)

Turns out that I wasn’t just romanticizing that city. It's alive. It's thick with hope and movement and yes, some struggle but still…it's alive. One thing I will say is as the cabbie drove me from National (I refuse to call it Reagan) Airport to my hotel in Chevy Chase, I began to tear up from so many memories. "Ah, there's the seafood restaurant where Craig broke up with me. Oh wow, that's the Metro station where I threw up. Ohhh, that's the off-campus frat house which the fraternity guys named "Gyna-Land." (Yep, it took me until I was a Junior to realize why they called it that. Gross.)

When people name the city in which they grew up, they usually say the one where their parents raised them. For me, college is the place I grew up. It's where I learned that when you love someone, they might love you back and they might not. I learned to do my laundry and set my own alarms and kinda figure out just who I wanted to be. Don't get me wrong, Texas is my home and I love it, (Hook Em'!) but D.C. is where I grew up. "Ah, Gyna-land."

I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to email me thoughts or questions to: Shescrazyhesaliar@gmail.com

Lovely Washington D.C.

Just got back from a fabulous whirlwind press tour in the city where I went to college! More on that, but I miss it so much I just may have to move back. Aside from making the press rounds, I got to hug my best friend, see a dear friend from college and drive by my old dorm at American University.

Click here to see one of the morning shows I was on. More to come...

I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to email me thoughts or questions to: Shescrazyhesaliar@gmail.com