I never grew out of the "dinosaur phase" that kids have at around 4 years of age. And why should I? Dinosaurs are totally sweet! The Internet rules too. Put the two together and in just one click you can get more drawings and reconstructions of paleontological oddities faster than you can say Archaeopteryx lithographica. Right now one of my favorites is the art gallery section of Dino.Lm.com, Dinosauricon, a Web site devoted to the dispersion of dino facts and illustration. Here you can view dinosaurs by medium, or see an individual artist's portfolio. And of course, Google Images turns up an awesome array if you type in a specific name. [Pictured above: Suchomimus Tenerensis by Luis Rey.] Happy digging!

I am completely obsessed with reality television. While I know much of it is heavily influenced by production, I am mesmerized by the mean spirit that emanates from real people being pitted against each other for an attractive prize. And none satisfies my reality fix more than Hell's Kitchen on Fox. Twelve wannabe chefs compete for the executive chef title at a multimillion dollar Vegas restaurant, under the "guidance" of an abusive British celebrity chef named Gordon Ramsey. Nothing brightens up Monday night like a poor, timid deli clerk being called a "f---ing cow with no talent." Yummy.

Since my husband and I always seem to vacation on islands, I was drawn to author J. Maarten Troost to start off my summer reading. His first book, The Sex Lives of Cannibals, tells of his misadventures while living on a remote South Pacific island. It is a hilarious, original travelogue that had me laughing out loud. His latest book, Getting Stoned with Savages, was released this summer. His dealings with giant centipedes, kava-kava and non-vegetarians delighted and amused me under my beach umbrella all week.

For you people that don't know me, I've been known to frequent a bar or two in my life. I like 'em dark, smoky and cheap. As I live in New Jersey, the smoking aspect is out. I recently heard a great joke: "Going to a bar and not smoking is like trying to take a dump and not pissing." Pretty right on in my book. With that said, I do most of my bar drinking in Philly. The Pub On Passyunk East, or as the locals call it, The Pope, fits all my requirements for a great bar: great beer selection, a killer jukebox, free darts and good bar food (no $12 burgers here). Seems like a secret spot now, but I guess the secret is out.