DJ Lance and Adam Richman

I'm sort of judgmental.

All right, I said it: I judge people.

The other day, when my Hungarian friend was cutting my slob of a dog's hair, she talked a lot about how she enjoyed getting to know new people.

"Zum people, zey look at people's outzides and zay to zemzelves, 'Zey look zis way, or zat way. I don't want to get to know zem.' Zey make judgements about people by how zey look on the outside. I want to talk to and get to know everyone," she said.

I nodded and pretended to be tracking.

I made soft grunts and gave her appropriately disgusted looks. As in "how could someone do that? Judge someone on how they look? Shesh. What a judgemental a**hole. I would never do such a thing!"

But I do.

Kellie Pickler was on "Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader." This is what happened.

I understand if you don't want to click on the link so I'll summarize. It went something like this:

Jeff Foxworthy: Budapest is the capital of what nation in Europe?

Kellie Pickler: This might be a stupid question? But I thought Europe was a country. Buddhist? Buddha...pest? I've never even heard of that. I know they speak French there. I wanna say...is French a country? I don't know what I'm doin.'

Am I judgmental about this? Of course I am.

What an idiot. I might not have known that Malta is a country before four months ago, but I know that Budapest is the capital of Hungary, thank you to Elizabeth Kostova's "The Historian" and my third grade social studies teacher.

And take for instance, these pictures from peopleofwalmart.com. I judge them. It is easy to do. The woman with the pink hotpants and the fishnet pantyhose, but the size 18 ass? Hooker.

The person who drew this?



This person might be fun to have a drink or attend a Star Wars convention with. This person could make me a Venti Coffee Light Frappucino while watching and appreciating Return of the Jedi.

What more could I ask for?

I once watched headlines about toddlers escaping their homes and eating the neighbor's stash of Twinkies without their mother's knowledge.

"Who are these people," I would think to myself. "How could they not know where their kids were for every single second of the day? What were they doing, taking a nap?

Today, I laid on my couch. My head was splitting (blood pressure is up again) and noticed the quietness around me. I investigated.

I found Maggie with a pencil, drawing on our unpainted, white walls.

Did I mention I also once judged people who would say "I had to buy special paint to cover up the coloring little Jeb did on our walls! That little stinker."

"What a fricking brat," I would say to myself. "And where were you, you sad excuse for a parent?"

"Surely you were not suffering a high blood pressure induced headache and waiting for your Ibuprofen 800 to kick in on the couch, watching a Man Vs. Food marathon. Surely, not."

Alas, I thought of my judgments as I sat with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, scrubbing the wall free of Maggie's modern wall art. I saw an eye, lips and the outline of a tree. It could have been the throbbing headache and the pulsing in my left eye.

I didn't give her too much crap about it, though. Instead, I gave her a piece of paper and collapsed on the couch, yet again.

I thought she might pay more attention to DJ Lance as opposed to Adam Richman.

So, I listened to the importance of "not biting your friends," and "you can't always getting what you want."

It hurt my head a little bit more, but I was able to shut my eyes for a moment and find some relief.

I took solace in knowing that she can't unlock doors quite yet, and Yo Gabba Gabba holds some freakishly hypnotic effect on her and she won't move (except to dance) when it is on.

Go ahead. Let them judge.