The gorgeous, talented, and cantankerous Howard offers as good a reason as any for moving deep into the country, growing a beard, and writing a manifesto.
Some pretty good news, for once.
Two cute Mormon missionaries, a little on the callow side (but still...) came in out of the rain to avail themselves of the library's maps. Ah, possibilities... And just how do 18-year olds get the title of "Elder", anyway?
Norbizness is a perfect dumpling -- that is to say, a raging, bellowing, dim sum of he-manly deliciousness. Whatever. I think you get me.
I think the propane deliveryman wants to "hit it," as kids these days are wont to say.
You know, for such a beautiful woman, Gillian Anderson takes awfully unflattering pictures. I still adore her, don't get me wrong.
I had a dream that Zhang Ziyi and I shared a desk in some bizarre office of the future. We were both file jockeys, spending our time mocking the boss sotto voce as futuristic zeppelins drifted past our 112th-floor cubicle.
I finally figured out who Ann Coulter reminds me of: those tarted up yet irredeemably haggard and drawn lower middle-class cokewhores who used to hang out at Jerry's, in Richmond, back in the 80s. Exactly!
I despair of ever learning how to drive. Please, won't someone teach me?
Some pretty good news, for once.
Two cute Mormon missionaries, a little on the callow side (but still...) came in out of the rain to avail themselves of the library's maps. Ah, possibilities... And just how do 18-year olds get the title of "Elder", anyway?
Norbizness is a perfect dumpling -- that is to say, a raging, bellowing, dim sum of he-manly deliciousness. Whatever. I think you get me.
I think the propane deliveryman wants to "hit it," as kids these days are wont to say.
You know, for such a beautiful woman, Gillian Anderson takes awfully unflattering pictures. I still adore her, don't get me wrong.
I had a dream that Zhang Ziyi and I shared a desk in some bizarre office of the future. We were both file jockeys, spending our time mocking the boss sotto voce as futuristic zeppelins drifted past our 112th-floor cubicle.
I finally figured out who Ann Coulter reminds me of: those tarted up yet irredeemably haggard and drawn lower middle-class cokewhores who used to hang out at Jerry's, in Richmond, back in the 80s. Exactly!
I despair of ever learning how to drive. Please, won't someone teach me?
Hm'Kay. G'Nite.
