It’s like a threesome, with two of my favorite T.V. shows.


John Slattery Arrested Development Season 4Even on LSD, Roger Sterling probably couldn’t have envisioned this: John Slattery is joining the cast of Arrested Development.

TVLine has learned exclusively that the Mad Men actor will appear in multiple episodes of the cult comedy’s upcoming 10-episode Netflix resurrection.

But who is he playing?! That’s the $1 million question. A rep for the show declined to comment, which leaves us no other choice but to speculate. Is he a long-lost Bluth relative? Lindsay’s new side dish? (Hit the comments with your own theories.)

RELATED | Mad Men Creator Matt Weiner Reveals Peggy’s Fate!

In an interview with, AD exec producer Ron Howard indicated that several new characters would be introduced, although he declined to provide specifics. “[Series creator] Mitch [Hurwitz] isn’t trying to recreate something,” Howard told the site. “It’s been away for a while, and part of the fun that Mitch has been mining…

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My Plan to Run Out of Money

I think it’s time I really sat down and made a list, cause that’s what I do best, of all the things I’d like to see and do in this lifetime. Yes, a bucket list friends. It’s cliche and damn necessary all at the same time. I apologize to those of you who think they are only cliche, but hey, whether you actively think about it or not, you’re always saying, “I should do that some day.” That’s essentially a bucket list, you hater, you.

First off, I must say that a trip to India has been on my mind ever since my dad told me about the trip he took in the 80’s. I’m not naive enough to think that this trip would be glamourous or “easy”. One has to be careful in foreign countries, especially countries that are radically different from your own. I’m an outdoorsy person, so seeing the Himalayas and Kashmir would be my No. 1 priority, as well as kayaking down the Siang River, but I’d like to see the cities as well, despite my overprotective father’s admonitions. I wouldn’t be the dumb tourist, waving around my American money, sporting a visor and fanny pack while complaining about all of the elephants in the road and the unbearable heat. No, I would obviously be foreign, but rather a curious visitor wanting to soak in the culture, than an obnoxious tourist that just wants to see the Taj Mahal and then quickly flee back to the States. Indian food, music, dress, and religion all fascinate me. And I’d like to see it all first hand, and experience some of it for myself.

Next on my list is the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s a trail that runs all the way from Mexico to Canada, obviously through the furthermost Western states in the U.S. I don’t think I would do the entire trail at once, but bits and pieces here and there would be enough for me. I love my hiking, but camping for extended periods of time gets to be a bit tiresome, that and I doubt I’d be able to take off work for such a long period of time, (it would take months). I’ve always been a fan of hiking and nature, and the West has always held some sort of fascination for me.

Sky diving. It has to be done. If there’s a chute and plane and land to, well, land on, I’m there. ‘Nuff said.

Road trippin’. I have always wanted to just get in a car and go, with only a vague sense of where I’m going and lots of great songs to listen to. A buddy would also be a great addition. Someone that doesn’t care that we don’t have an itinerary and likes how many diners and weird thrift stores I stop at. Oh, and they not only have to tolerate my belting of songs, they MUST join in.

Living somewhere abroad for awhile has always been on my mind. I wouldn’t want to plant roots there permanently, but a nice year or two just to see how everyday life operates in some other part of the globe would be ideal. Vacations, as nice as they are, don’t really leave that much of an impact on you. A week or two isn’t enough to really feel a city, country, or culture. It’s important to see the touristy things, like the pyramids in Egypt or the Taj Mahal in India, but it doesn’t do the host country justice to see that and assume that’s all they have to offer.

Marathon. But not just any marathon, a marathon in a foreign country. I would be ambitious and say in several countries, but I don’t want to assume my body will tolerate all that travel and running, (not to mention my pocketbook). So I’ll just be conservative and say one foreign marathon for now.

This may sound a bit posh, but I’d love to do a bike tour of New England and/or the British Isles (Ireland, Scotland and such). The routes normally take you through picturesque forests and cute towns with hidden treasures and adorable bed and breakfasts. What more could one need than some fresh air and exercise, followed by a comfy bed and delicious food? (I’m a foodie, so anywhere I go I’ll be scouting out the delish eateries.)

MOTHER RUSSIA! I love doing Russian accents, well almost any accent, but Russian is my favorite. I’d love to see the architecture of St. Petersburg and Moscow and go to a Russian ballet in Russia. Not to mention get in on that vodka action.

Skiing in the Andes Mountains. I’d love any excuse to go to South America, and the Andes Mountains are it for me. Skiing isn’t something I can get a lot of in Missouri, so if I’m going to travel to do it, it might as well be on some of the prettiest mountains there are.

There’s a theme with my bucket list, I know. So I continue the pattern and say I want to hang glide in New Zealand. Gorgeous country, thrilling sport, need I say more?

I’m a roller coaster buff. Literally the majority of our family vacations have had to include at least one day at an amusement park for me so that I could get my roller coaster fix. Disney World was by far a trip planned to appease me. So it’s natural that I’d want to do a worldwide roller coaster search. What I have planned is like the American Idol of roller coasters. I would have a wide variety to choose from, many would be mediocre, just plain bad, or almost there. But they would all be worth it for me to find the BEST roller coasters in the world. I would document my “studies” and publish them (on the web most likely) as a paved road, if you will, for future adventure seekers. You’re welcome.

I have many more bucket list items, of lesser or equal value, but I will conclude with one that I think would be amusing to most. At some point in my life, I will don a white bra and underwear and play Janet in Rocky Horror Picture Show. The venue could be as small as a living room for a couple friends and as poorly prepared as 30 minutes would allow, but it shall be done!



The Dilemma

Usually when writing, the first sentence is the most important part of your entire monologue. (See there, I already ruined it.) But I really wondered about what was the most imperative thing to say first. I think this dilemma is significant, because my dilemma is between stating my brother’s death and its effect on me, and stating that the personification of objects isn’t the healthiest thing to do. Woah. That’s heavy. But also, that’s confusing. How could either one of those statements be about the same thing? Well, let me break it down for you.

As a sister, it will always seem imperative to put my brother’s death first. It has been at the forefront of my mind for the last 10 months, so why shouldn’t it be at the forefront of a paragraph? It’s worthy of some notice. It’s been the single most dramatic thing to happen to me in my short life, and it’s had an unbelievably large effect on my day to day thinking. But it seems that my mind is in favor of the second statement. That’s my take home message, I should say. I can just hear every English teacher I’ve ever had saying, “What’s the point?” So putting emotions aside, here’s my point: It’s unhealthy to attach sentiment, value, and sacredness to an object of any kind.

I’ve kept token items or memorabilia; I was one of those children that had collections (stickers for example), and up until recently I saved every single movie ticket I ever bought spanning the last seven years of my life. Why? I still don’t know, to justify these odd collections I would tell people I had bigger plans for them- a framed collage of all the movie tickets for example. But deep down I knew I would never get around to it. And why should I? Those tickets don’t mean anything to me. Sure, I enjoy movies, but more than half of them I wouldn’t see again. And what would a piece of artwork such as that say about me if I hung it on my wall? That I pilfered away my time watching useless movies because I was a bored adolescent? I’d like to think better of myself than that.

It’s no surprise that I was incredibly upset when our new puppy Nelli (like the Benelli shotgun) tore down a large paper sunflower that my brother had made when he was in kindergarden. It had his name on it and the line, “You’re the Greatest Dad!” I assume it was made for father’s day. I had gone upstairs to shower and when I returned I saw a bunch of green paper pieces floating in a giant puddle of water from the freshly refilled, and even more recently dumped, water bowl. Nelli was but of course the culprit. I can’t even begin to express the rage I experienced when I saw the little green piece of paper that said, “Willie” on it drenched and beyond repair. I rushed over and fumbled around collecting the pieces, all the while telling Nelli how much I detested her for ruining something my deceased brother had made. I gave up and just started crying an uninhibited, all consuming cry. I hadn’t cried like that for several months, thinking that the worst of my grief was over. Some minutes passed and I felt ashamed for yelling at Nelli the way I did. She of course forgave me and has since forgotten, on to her new acts of terror.

The fact that a torn and drowned piece of green construction paper had such an effect on me is incredible. It made me behave shamelessly and selfishly. I don’t like that I lost my cool and took it out on an innocent puppy, but what I don’t like even more is that an artifact can hold such significance. It’s always been taught in psychology that symbols are an important tool for emotion. People see the American flag and feel either pride or hatred. The Nazi symbol makes many shudder with anger or sorrow. And that little red number at the top of your facebook screen often brings joy. Why should my emotions be controlled by such symbols and/or objects is beyond my understanding. It’s as if I saw Nelli literally tearing apart and drowning my flesh and blood. But the fact of the matter is he died 10 months ago. All I’m sure of is that this kind of emotional attachment to objects can be dangerous. If I were a more violent person, I may have struck Nelli with awful blows- I had already terrified her with my yelling.

Encasing my brother’s life in a piece of paper, his old room, his car, or even his handwriting just doesn’t do him justice. And the more we cling to these things- because that’s what they are, things- the more we warp what was truly important in the first place. I feel pride in myself because I know I studied hard and graduated high school with honors, not because a diploma was handed to me while I wore an oversized purple gown. Some people hate our country because our popular media conflicts with their religious views, not because our flag is star-spangled. And my memory of my brother will not die because things associated with him are gone. Lord Voldemort may have been able to place parts of his soul in objects, but I have yet to meet a human (or muggle) that can. That paper sunflower is no more a part of my brother than a rock in a stream or a piece of glass in an alley. And sobbing over his old possessions isn’t going to honor his memory.

To conclude I’ll just say that to live is to have emotion. Sure, we come in contact with many objects and many of them become symbols of something emotional. But it’s just that- they’re symbols. What is it that they’re truly representing? What is the real reason why your chest is swelling with pride, grief, hatred, or happiness? Focus on that, and take the silly placeholders out of the equation. It cheapens the sentiment and warrants irrational behavior. I should like to think that our own memories, rather than items, serve us best when reflecting on the true significance of our experiences. The memories we don’t recall are usually not worth remembering.

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