Lack of Title is Acknowledged, and Quickly Forgotten.

Today on Cuteoverload.com...no, no, I'm kidding, just cleaning out the icons.

Now please hold your astonishment, but I do not have a whole lot to comment upon today. Nothing terribly worthy has happened lately.

Except I went to lunch at Panera yesterday, and the power went out as soon as I walked in. So I went to Noodles instead.

With the literally unwashed masses from Bayside, Whitefish Bay, and Fox Point.

Teh Storms Of Teh Apocalypse (it's been a slow summer here in southeastern Wisconsin) had knocked out most of the electricity along those power grids. Lots of knotty hair and cranky kids.

Good food, though. And it was with my one friend who isn't getting married, having a baby, or doings something fantastic. (Not that Caitlin's life isn't fantastic, but you know what I mean...)

As I am living at home, alone, and probably couldn't get impregnated with a damn turkey baster, this was comforting to me.

Who knew I used to hang out with a pre-slutty crowd???



Mostly stolenLinks to comment upon in the absence of real life:

Missing Romanov bodies found? Dammit! *I* was supposed to find them! And write my dissertation on it! And set the historical world on fire! And probably run away with my hot, newly-rich-because-of-my-discoveries professor/advisor/colleague!!!

(Okay. I just added that last part. But it's very Indiana Jones, don't you think???)

*sigh* Fine. I guess if I can't discover them myself, I'm glad they found them so the Anastasia foolishness can finally end (It was Marie, dumbass. Vertebrae don't lie.) and they can all be laid to rest together.

More KidNation crap. Now, I'm not a mom, but I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't sign anything saying that the fruit of my womb could be harmed, screwed, and killed all for a TV show.

Even if it meant I would be invited to CBS events with all the CSI stars. No, really.

Well played, Luciana Bozan Barroso Damon. I love Matt Damon. So hard. Not in the way I love Johnny Depp or even George Clooney (we'd get along fine if he'd just keep his damn mouth shut), but I would totally marry him and have him donate some "killer DNA to my womb", as the girls on gofugyourself.com so astutely put it.

Oh honey, no. Alan. Darling. Do you know what I put up with for you??? The ribbing, the jokes, the "Oh, you wouldn't like him, you're weird? Why do you insist on continuing to make this difficult for me?!?!?!?

Gah. The things I'll do for love.

I have a burrito from Qdoba. I go to eat it.