Ever feel gypped because no one has ever dry humped you on the subway? Me too. (originally posted on June 23, 2006)

On most mornings, I have the same routine. The routine is as follows:

1. Get out of bed and either put on or carry my slippers to the bathroom.

2. Pee.

3. Weigh myself.

4. Look in the mirror and stare, thinking about what I have to do that day.

5. Turn on the shower.

6. Turn on the curling iron.

7. Shower.

8. Dry off and apply moisturizer.

9. Fix breakfast while wearing a towel on my head and towel around the rest of my body.

This morning was no different. I followed my morning routine as usual, and at around 7:30 a.m., I sat down on my couch to enjoy my granola with skim milk.

I have a love/hate relationship with morning t.v. I feel as if every single morning news program has its faults. I can't stand the tourists from Salt Lake City, Omaha, Phoenix, Orlando, and various other places I'm glad I don't live in waving their poster board signs outside the Today Show. I don't even know what channel Good Morning America is on, and New York one is a snooze fest, with only one man doing sports, weather, news, etc. He actually reads from the daily newspapers when talking about current events. Good Day New York is even worse. Mike Jerrick deserves to be dragged out into the street and shot. The shows only saving grace is Jodi Applegate, who despite what some people might say, is generally hilarious. I think she's one of the few NYU alumuni that don't drive me to homicidal thoughts.

However, Good Day New York has its fair share of the peppy morning schmooze factor. What I don't understand is that in my entire life, which has almost spanned a quarter of a century, I have never met anyone who actually enjoyed waking up in the morning. And the last thing anyone wants is some hyperactive individual barking at them in the early morning hours about where to get swimming lessons or how to bake the best pizza crust in the city.

Good Day New York used to have some lady named Penny who would host the general interest portion of the news. She was this 60 washed up news anchor, who like Mike Jerrick, deserved to be put down like a sick dog. Her lame sexual innuendos to her sad attempts at humor were a constant pitfall in my morning routine, and I was glad when I noticed one day that Penny had disappeared. I'm sure she's rotting in a home somewhere (*Author is enthusiastically pumping fist in air).

However, Penny has been replaced with Anne. Her segment is called "Anne About Town" and it's pretty simple to describe. Basically, the producers of Fox 5 dream up these ridiculous, however never life threatening stunts for Anne to perform. I've seen her take sailing lessons, walk on a tight rope, drink Vitamin Water made specifically for dogs, and numerous other activities that are just slightly too upbeat for 7:30 a.m. And it's not even so much WHAT she's doing. It's the fact that it's HER doing it. I'm hoping that one day I'll be a producer for Fox, and my brainstorming sessions would go something like this: "I've got an idea for Anne's segment: Lets set her on fire and have her wrestle a hungry bear! Seriously! We can accept bets and donate the money to charity!" And by charity I mean the foundation I'm setting up to have Michael Rappaport banend from doing anything on television and only allowing him to write stories about how bat shit crazy Natasha Lyonne is.

This morning, Anne was officially put on my list of people to run over with a bus if I ever become liscened to drive a bus. Because of her overly perky attitude, I almost changed channels to Saved By the Bell: The College Years, which would have resulted in two things: I would have become certifiably retarded from watching Mario Lopez at 7:40 a.m. (Seriously foks, I think the FDA passed a law saying no Screeh or Mario Lopez that early in the morning. Their third rate acting ability has been known to cause spontaneous/permanent blindness, infertility, and deafness). The second event that would have occurred is this: I would have missed the announcement of the successsful completion of "Operation Exposure."

Admittedly, up until 7:42 a.m. this morning, I had never heard of "Operation Exposure." But as Lucy Noland explained in the "Today's Big Story" segment, I learned that the New York City Police Department had been running a sting operation to catch perverts on the New York City subways. I can't remember the exact number of people arrested, but apparently there are quite a few dry humpers and testicle displayers on the subway. Admittedly, I felt a little jipped. I ride the subway at least twice a day, and I've never been dry humped or witnessed a pair of nuts. A girl grabbed my boob once, but only because she fell into me when the train jerked. I would try to rationalize that maybe that "girl" was actually a dude, but she was definitely a girl. Man, what a rip off.

Ed. note: After investigating, I believe I have found why my hatred for Anne Craig goes so deep:

She shares the same last name of someone I have emotional isues with.

And more importantly...

She got her start in Orlando, Florida. If it wasn't for those dumb asses in that state, I wouldn't be suffering through her shitty skits every morning.

Note to Florida: You're on my list.