…You show up to the 2010 Golden Globes – a RED CARPET AFFAIR – dressed like it’s your brother-in-law’s 40th birthday party. Don’t get me wrong, Julia is darling, but she should take a hint from Dexter‘s Jennifer Carpenter, who was on fi-yah and whose picture I have yet to find in a post-able form.
…You whine and think you’re all profound and shit. Really you’re just depressing and spout garbage. Ahhh. I feel better now.
. . . You collectively gather together to bring “Christmas treats” to my workplace, causing me to haul myself up out of my chair, lumber into the snack room, and eat my weight in peanut butter delights, seven layer cookies, taco dip, sausage balls. . . ham biscuits. . . chocolate chip cookies. . . did someone say biscuits?
…You crawl in my lap to get a little love, throw your paw up on my arm and start sniffing it like it’s glue. And then, when I look down to see what’s going on, I noticed that your perfectly white paw is not so much white, but more like BLOODY PINK, and then I realize that you are not the domesticated creature I thought you were. Also, thanks for leaving your murder victim in the driveway for me to run over this morning. You rock, you dirty hunter, you.
…You are so good that I want to marry you. Your cookies, mixed with your cream, form the perfect bowl of ice cream. You make me think about you every day, lonely in the freezer, all by yourself. Let’s be together, always. Whaddaya say?
