Because I am so unbelievably tired and have nothing else to say except that I really regret that I lack the strong black Irish features that allow one to carry off a lovely scarf and cool earrings but instead possess the ruddy shanty-Irish complexion that only allows you to wear one color at a time and God help you if that color is red.
Oh, and I really, really like days off from the painting. Because the open sore on my finger is preventing me from even holding a pencil or makeup brush. (NO!!! THE HORROR!!!)
So. Here you go. It's...well, it's not as funny as the show normally is, because Cheek seems unable to realize that he's on the frickin Colbert Report, despite the fact that he's the core demographic (college kids without actual jobs). But two years ago when he was an Olympian my mother inexplicably decided that he was my intended and clearly I had to marry him and she would start buying clothes for our adorable sports-savvy babies.
No. I don't know why.
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