A bored housewife jousts at windmills, pokes fun at everything from leg wax to Miss Manners.
So, today, right after I found out that I would have four more years of restless nights to look forward to, some moron drove up next to me honking and making a “W” with her hands. I guess I was feeling a little shock and awe, because I almost didn’t get my finger up in …
I’m gonna have a hard time not voting for Cobra Commander, because he sounds like someone we can trust.
My husband to me about five seconds ago: “There’s a glass in the kitchen with aluminum foil on it and ketchup on top. Don’t touch it. It’s mine.” Righto.
I bought my husband a copy of “Unbreakable.” About an hour into the film, the DVD stopped and wouldn’t play anymore. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.
I’ve had country music forced upon me quite a bit lately, and I feel dirty all over. I’ve never been a fan, but I don’t recall that it was ever as much of a parody of itself as it is today. If the country music industry is serious, it should at least pretend it is …