My new all-purpose excuse for anything that I screw up:

"Sorry. I'm having an out-of-control feather-boa moment."

Maybe you had to be there.

Of course, if you had been there, it would have meant that you were watching this week's episode of the show in which they are selecting a new Pussycat Doll, and I would never believe that you would be so tacky.

Last week I heard a string of words that never should be uttered in conjunction with one another: the Oklahoma Renaissance Festival in Muskogee.

I'm just saying.