The B-List: THINGS I SHOULDN'T CARE ABOUT BUT DO

• My pores. Yes, Bugglehubby, that's what I'm doing in the bathroom - checking out my sun damage in a magnifying mirror. I'm sorry to say it involves neither magazines nor lotion.
  

• My obsessive-compulsiveness. Oh, the bittersweet irony.

• My kids' television viewing habits. Which is worse: an extra episode of Jack's Big Music Show, or a real-life version of Mommy's Big Breakdown Show?

• The cluttered messiness of my house. It's not like, TLC-organizer-intervention-worthy or anything, but I'm pretty sure this is not what Rachel Ashwell had in mind for the term "shabby chic."

• Aging. Read: sagging, wrinkling, bagging, dimpling, slouching, jiggling. Oh - and sometimes peeing just a teensy bit when I sneeze. Thanks, Bugglekids.

• Trash TV. Specifically: Would Lindsay Lohan rather go back to rehab than be caught dead in her family's reality show? Will Kim Kardashian's butt be featured as a balloon in the next Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade? What the hell is up with Kimora Lee Simmons' neck?