Hold that crystal tear drop of dubious honor right under your eye, symbolically reminding America of heartbreak you have suffered and sobbed over in the past year.
Wrap yourself in a dominatrix's shower curtain and cradle it like the baby you'll never have with Justin Timberlake.
courtesy of January 2007 employeecomedy.typepad.com/news/celebrity_crap/index.html"
What's the likelihood of my housemates using the washer and dryer at the same time as the Oscars circus? I haven't actually gotten around to watching the nominees on the big screen, hence my review of Juno has to wait until I have both the time and desire to glimpse Maiden, Midwife, and Crone parables.
I'm vaguely optimistic about completing Sunday chores here at Reality Bites Co-op. Ideally, the rest of shared company will remain sufficiently engrossed within their--dare to dream--thinly padded/carpeted rooms to allow me un-interrupted excursions between bedroom and basement.
