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That's like, exactly what I do when I'm drunk! It's like touching someone else's nose, y'know? Only with you, it must be like, so much more intense, because it's the difference between a vice-presidential nose and a totally regular nose.
We have so much in common, it's not even funny. Well, a little funny. You know what I mean. You probably already thought it even. Duh.
Dude can only sing country, and even then, it's not that good. If you must throw your votes at a "clueless North Carolinian", pick Pickler. And then kick Pickler out before Chris, Elliott, Katharine, Paris, Mandisa or Taylor. Because we're pretty sure she knows what a mink is, and even if she didn't, it's not cute enough to salvage her singing.
If we ever have a heart to heart conversation that concludes with what appears to be a mutual understanding, and we commemorate that happy occasion with a hug, I vow to not make a face over your shoulder that calls into question my motives or sincerity. I'd appreciate it if you could offer the same assurances to me. With the rate at which troubling over-shoulder hug glances are occurring these days, at act-outs, as cliffhangers, or just right in the middle of a narrative, I'm beginning to get paranoid.
I think these guys are my heroes.
Really Duke? Again? Like that? Really?
George Bush proudly presents the first and last slide in his compelling powerpoint presentation "Plan for Victory".
When I was 15, I really wanted to dye my hair purple. And I was convinced that I would, as soon as I left home for the mythical bliss that is college. Of course, by that time, I realized that purple hair really wasn't all it's cracked up to be (which is very little to begin with, truth be told). In fact, lots of things my parents wouldn't allow weren't really all that awesome.*
Today's newly discovered example? Kudos. Sure, they've got chocolate, and they were a great lunchroom trade back in the day. But they kind of taste off. Like some rice krispy treat accidentally fell in the granola machine. In a bad way.
So, to all my angsty teenage readers out there (and I know there are a great many), consider your parents' opinions. They may not be discipline so much as good taste. I'm much happer as a brunette who eats Nature Valley granola bars, thank you very much.
*except for the drinking. **
** just kidding mom and dad.
Happy March Madness, everyone! Here's hoping that the combination tv/radio/lantern/truly horrible sounding alarm that CAA gave out for christmas a few years back can tune in CBS at my office...
Though it can never out-toe-pick the original, I think it's clear where I'll be March 12th.
