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"Back on my feet. Thanks EET -- you are the most selfless friend -- and that goes way beyond guest blogging. Guys, I&amp;#x27;ll make sure he shows his handsome face more often, and hopefully, he&amp;#x27;ll have his own gig one day. As he says, &amp;quot;I put the free in freelance!&amp;quot; Our sugar-pie needs cashola to compensate for his button-pushing ways (and by the way, don&amp;#x27;t you think that term has a slight sexual innuendo, or is it just me and my sick mind?)! Anyway, the funeral was morose and numbing and hard to handle. You know when you see a really sad movie, and you just want to sob your eyes out, but you&amp;#x27;re in public, so you try to minimize the tears and stuff? That&amp;#x27;s how I felt. I kept trying to shift my train of thought so I wouldn&amp;#x27;t just lose it. I don&amp;#x27;t know why we feel so ashamed about crying. My adult boy cousins were weeping like babies and I thought it was beautiful, yet for some reason, I was embarrassed to let my own tears spill. The graveside was equally painful. It was also pouring rain. I finally allowed myself to sob there. The rain and tears all sort-of blended in, so I wasn&amp;#x27;t so worried and tense about looking strong. The positive/bitter-sweet part was that I saw so many relatives for the first time in a while. Everyone is doing so well. Babies, college applications, newlyweds, new homes....the whole crazy circle of life. Back in New York, life surprised me with the best cure of all: Laughter. Whether she knew I needed a pick-me-up, or just craved a glimpse of glamour, my friend Sarah worked her magic (otherwise known as her irresistible beauty) and begged our friend Joel for backstage tickets to Saturday Night Live. Joel, Mr. Connected, hooked us up with the best evening I can remember in ages. We watched the show from a private balcony, with the show&amp;#x27;s producers, cast-mates, scripts and several bottles of wine. And if that&amp;#x27;s not enough, it was hosted by Shia Lebeouf, who no one else knows, but I would lay down and die for, and Avril Lavigne, the girl we love to hate, but nonetheless, a rock-star with contagious attitude and smokey eyes that disturbingly turn me on. The whole scenario was surreal. And there I was with tears on my cheeks...yet again. But this time, I was crying from laughing so hard. Crying from some Dakota Fanning sketch. Crying from the once in a lifetime moment I was sharing with Sarah and Joel. When we left the after party, it was raining yet again. And just like the rain at the graveside, I felt like I could hide behind the storm, and have my private moment. Before hailing a cab or wiping the wet hair off my face, I looked up at the sky and told Addie that I laughed -- from deep in my soul -- all night long in her honor. Ok. Morbid enough? Want to go back to discussing EET&amp;#x27;s unbelievable sex appeal? I&amp;#x27;ll tell you another time why things didn&amp;#x27;t work out between us. It seems inappropriate after all this. Not sure what his poll results are yet (will let you know). Personally, I think button-pushing is a cry for attention. I used to always tell guys about other guys...about ex-boyfriends, or getting hit on, old crushes, random fantasies or whatever. First of all, guys hate that. Second of all, nothing good comes of it. I also tend to threaten my boyfriends, out of the blue, about picking up and moving across the world and.... &amp;quot;never looking back.&amp;quot; That&amp;#x27;s my line. I mean, these poor dudes. How do you push your man&amp;#x27;s buttons?"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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