Thank Goddiness
A directory of photorgraphy is a person who works on films, and who, although doesn't operate the camera, frames each shot, maticulously sets up each frame, because film is expensive, and such a person is prudent to make sure that the film is not wasted. Also, this is a major artist of the film, he designs the "look" of the film. He is what makes a scene beautiful, a shot gorgeous. He is important. (or she)
In the eighties and early nineties, all television shows were shot on film. This was expensive and abandoned for video at the earliest convenience. You may remember that "Cheers was filmed before a live studio audience." Well, television isn't "filmed" anymore, in fact, movies (films) aren't filmed anymore, they are computerized, digitized, etc.
The Big C has a Director of Photography. This means that each frame, each shot, is planned out and on this show done so well. It means that we are watching a mini-movie, no, a mini-film each episode. This speaks to expection care to the craft in the planning of this show.
Let's not forget the choice of Ms. Laura Linney as lead actress. Laurua Linney is an actress who is worthwhile. However, she is so adept, she could star in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure 3 and still garner an award nomination. She is a competitor to Ms. Meryl Streep.
Point is, Ms. Linney could have been in an Office hack sitcom and done well, but she has chosen to go to Showtime for this show, a stylish show in which she gets to flex her acting muscles.
Finally, and my favorite category, the writing. The writing on this show is smart, funny, sassy, and pretty much perfect. I have no doubt that this television series will help to redefine the common narative. Precious' Gabrielle offers perfect support; Howard Stern said "Look it, she'll never act again." Now she has, and she is actually creating a roll.
What we have here is a television show with brilliant writing, brilliant (albeit seasoned) acting, and most importantly, an attention to detail.
The fact that the producers of The Big C decided to have a directory of photography on staff, to help create this show, proves that they are in for the long run. They are not only planing on creative a great show, they are planning on redefining what we call television. They know us TV watchers expect a higher quality. While film excessively delves into the 3-D, we will sit at home and enjoy the brilliance that is compelling television.
I, personally, LOVE TV. I think Weeds is a great lead into The Big C. I think Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the best show on TV, followed by Golden Girls, Cheers, Frasier, MASH, and Mary Tyler Moore. I think The Big C might ruin all that.
My final point: This show spells potential with a capital C.
d
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
MOVIE REVIEW: KILLERS
Killers, Starring Katherine O'hara (Home Alone, Best In Show) and Tom Sellick.
The basic premise of the film is marketing, and brilliantly done. The previews show Ashtun Kutcher (Mrs. Demi Moore) with an outstanding body, and Katherine Hiegel wielding a gun shouting "Do you know how big this thing is?" For that reason I paid $5.99 to view the movie on-demand.
I wasn't disappoitned, both of those scenes were included, but it wasn't anything I couldn't have googled. As far as the movie... the first fifteen minutes were so terrible and awkward that it was uncomfortable to watch. I was debating, durring those first few scenes, actually taking Mr. Kutcher and Ms. Hiegel to smal claims court demanding the return of my $5.99.
Of course, that was unneccesary. What those first few moments did do, however, was forever cement the legacy of these faux actors to be one time wonders, the fortunate particpants in sucessful television series who will never, ever be able to recreate that sucess. I feel the worst for Heigel, who was so brilliant in Knocked Up, and who left Grey's Anatomy to pursue film roles, fancieny herself the Geroge Clooney of Chicago Grace, but proving to us all in Killers that she will never, ever, EVER, be an actress. (At least Kutcher got to show of his smoking hot body, and has never pretended that his genius lies in acting for the screen)
But Killers is not without its worth. I immediately withdrew my fancies of suing its stars when I laid eyes upon Sellick and Ohara, seasoned veterans in the acting game, who provide much needed relief in this abysmal film. Each line Sellik speaks flows off his perfectly manicured mustache so smoothly that you wish he had more to say. As O'hara pours a glass of wine into her oversized glass, the continues to pour, and pour, and pour, you understand why she must drink so heavily, perhaps she is watching the same movie we are.
Regardless. Sellik and O'hara are such pros. and have such chemistry together, that they outshine Ashtun on Katherine, perhaps almost joking with them. I mean, the movie is callled Killers , and Sellik and O'hara quite literally kill Ashtun and Katherine. As Ashtun and Katherine flip and flop to attempt chemistry, we wish we were watching a movie starring Sellik and O'hara.
Ashtun and Hiegel are not without merrit. Kutcher's body looks GREAT and Hiegel gets off a one liner or two. But this movie is a giant step back for the both of them. Maybe the payday was good, but as artists, as celebreties, they have significantly damaged themselves. In fact, after realized that the movie is not about Tom Sellik and Catherine O'hara, the most exciting things is a catchy new single but he immensely talented Macy Gray that plays over the closing credits.
The basic premise of the film is marketing, and brilliantly done. The previews show Ashtun Kutcher (Mrs. Demi Moore) with an outstanding body, and Katherine Hiegel wielding a gun shouting "Do you know how big this thing is?" For that reason I paid $5.99 to view the movie on-demand.
I wasn't disappoitned, both of those scenes were included, but it wasn't anything I couldn't have googled. As far as the movie... the first fifteen minutes were so terrible and awkward that it was uncomfortable to watch. I was debating, durring those first few scenes, actually taking Mr. Kutcher and Ms. Hiegel to smal claims court demanding the return of my $5.99.
Of course, that was unneccesary. What those first few moments did do, however, was forever cement the legacy of these faux actors to be one time wonders, the fortunate particpants in sucessful television series who will never, ever be able to recreate that sucess. I feel the worst for Heigel, who was so brilliant in Knocked Up, and who left Grey's Anatomy to pursue film roles, fancieny herself the Geroge Clooney of Chicago Grace, but proving to us all in Killers that she will never, ever, EVER, be an actress. (At least Kutcher got to show of his smoking hot body, and has never pretended that his genius lies in acting for the screen)
But Killers is not without its worth. I immediately withdrew my fancies of suing its stars when I laid eyes upon Sellick and Ohara, seasoned veterans in the acting game, who provide much needed relief in this abysmal film. Each line Sellik speaks flows off his perfectly manicured mustache so smoothly that you wish he had more to say. As O'hara pours a glass of wine into her oversized glass, the continues to pour, and pour, and pour, you understand why she must drink so heavily, perhaps she is watching the same movie we are.
Regardless. Sellik and O'hara are such pros. and have such chemistry together, that they outshine Ashtun on Katherine, perhaps almost joking with them. I mean, the movie is callled Killers , and Sellik and O'hara quite literally kill Ashtun and Katherine. As Ashtun and Katherine flip and flop to attempt chemistry, we wish we were watching a movie starring Sellik and O'hara.
Ashtun and Hiegel are not without merrit. Kutcher's body looks GREAT and Hiegel gets off a one liner or two. But this movie is a giant step back for the both of them. Maybe the payday was good, but as artists, as celebreties, they have significantly damaged themselves. In fact, after realized that the movie is not about Tom Sellik and Catherine O'hara, the most exciting things is a catchy new single but he immensely talented Macy Gray that plays over the closing credits.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
THIS IS IT
Saturday night I went out with some friends, I was already forty ounces deep when my good friend, Danielle Fugere (daniellelouise14.blogspot.com) picked me up and brought me to a bar, where I met other friends, and we shared spirits and good times. When I arrived home, lo and behold, I was quite a bit drunk.
What follows are the events of that fateful morning.
1:37 AM
I arrived home with my god daughter's mother's husband Peter. The plan was that he was to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer with me. Partly because he had to work in four hours, and partly because my home was so filthy, he inclined to leave, which is a polite way of saying he declined to stay. My home was so filthy in fact, that when he asked if he could get himself a glass of water, I simply replied "Good luck."
1:45 AM
I discovered, while flipping my remote control in an attempt to ascertain which end was intended to be pointed towards the cable box, that I was famished. Without my cheeto loving friend Danielle to help me, I opted for some pasta left over from the Olive Garden that was in my refrigerator. While I devoured said pasta, I correctly pointed the remote control and selected an episode of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer.
2:08 AM
I found myself irritated that my cats were not paying apt attention to me. To resolve this discord, I selected to pour cat nip over the adjacent cushion of the couch I was sitting on. The result was, simply put, kitty adoration.
2:40 AM
Upon the episodes conclusion, I opted to watch a movie, one from a Netflix account that would require pluggng my computer into my television. Thusly, I stood up, directly onto an ashtray, which compliantly flipped, dispensing ash and cigarette butts onto the floor.
2:41 AM
After making no effort to clean the ashtray spill, I logged onto Netflix and selected This Is It, the Michael Jackson movie. Next I moved to connect the cord from my computer to my television that would allow me to watch it on the big screen. It wasn't working.
2:44 AM
I continuously attempted to connect the cord into to television. I got a broken, reddish, scattered picture. I tried and tried. Finally I chose to examine the cord, and upon so I noticed an abberation. It seemed that there was an alien element lodged in between the tongs of the cord. I attempted to remove the abberation via any means possible.
2:51 AM
I tried to remove the abberation with my fingers. No luck.
2:54 AM
I tried to remove the abberation with a match stick. No luck.
2:59 AM
It occured to me that perhaps if the television was closer to the computer the cord would be less likely to fall out. I dragged the entire entertainment center several feet closer to the computer desk, in the meanwhile knocking into a shelf, whose contents scattered onto the floor.
3:08 AM
I realized the abberation was actually a tong that had been pushed downward, I attempted to remove it in hopes that it was unneccesarry.
3:14 AM
In my attempts, I had thoroughly destroyed the cord, and realized that hooking my computer up to my TV was all but impossible. I ascertained that the correct course of action was to watch the movie directly on the computer.
3:19AM
I started watching Michael Jackson's: This is It, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
3:29 AM
During the movie I found myself again hungry and retrieved a Turkey and Swiss Starbucks sandwich from my refrigerator.
3:38 AM
While finishing up the first half of the sandwich, one of my cat-nipped cats, Sam, stole the second half, which he and my other cat, Diane, flung rampantly about the living room, part playing, part eating. I laughed and laughed.
3:44 AM
I opened a beer.
3:48 AM
I realized I was very warm, so decided to reinstall the A/C that I had taken out a few days prior. In the process, my screen came loose so I tossed it into a corner. A/C in and turned on, I resumed watching the movie.
3:58 AM
I realized part of the reason I was so warm was that I was wearing long pants, a t-shirt, long sleeved shirt, and a sweat shirt. I promptly removed all of my clothes and threw them aside.
4:38 AM
The movie ended and I became aware of the following items.
o This Is It is a movie everyone should see. It was awesome.
o Michael Jackson is probably the most talented person ever born. I know lots of people
say this, but I really did not realize or appreciate the entirity of its truth until now.
o It is completely possible, albeit likely, that Michael Jackson is still living.
There are reasons for this conspiracy theory. In watching the movie you see a man, who is dead allegedly days later, who is active and vital. I mean dancing, singing, spinning, and out doing himself. He does not seem frail, strung out, addicted, or afflicted.
The events surrounding his death are enormously suspicious, awkward, and clearly full of lies. There is, beit MJ is dead or alive, an untold story.
Finally, considering the option that Jackson is still alive is not as frivilous as assuming Elvis is alive, or Anna Nicole is alive. Elvis was a star, then became older, fatter, and addicted. Anna Nicole was surrounded in controversy. But no one, no one ever alive, has been as famous as Michael Jackson. People scream and cry and faint in his prescence. Even after his trial he was worshipped like a god. And let's not forget that trial, a not-guilty verdict that still branded him as a child molester.
So let's recap, an enormously famous person, so famous that people weep and faint in his presence, and I am sacrilgious enough to say much like he was Jesus Christ himself, dies under gigantically suspicious circumstsances. A circus ensues, memorial services, fights between his family. Meanwhile, all of his albums resurge and sell billions of copies, a greatest hit album is released, a final single, aptly titled This Is It is released, and that a film of the same name hits theaters.
Michael Jackson was famous to a fault. He wasn't Madonna, Elvis, or Princess Di. He wasn't Geroge Clooney, Brad Pitt, or Cher. He was Michael Fucking Jackson. And although I believe that "Michael Jackson" is dead and gone forever, I do not have a hard time believing that the man that was Michael Jackson is still with us. Perhaps living out his final days not wanting to be a media spectacle because he has cancer. Perhaps tipped off that there were more charges being brought against him. Perhaps just sick of waving out a window and hearing people shriek, sob, scream, and collapse. Perhaps, after 50 years of being publically crazy, just wanted to be crazy privately, all by himself.
12:39 PM The Next Day
I woke up. I walked out into my living room. There was cat nip on my couch. Half a sandwich on the floor surrounded by ashes and cigarette butts. My TV had been moved into the center of the room. There was an empty olive garden box on the floor. There was a full, open and untouched beer next to my computer. A window screen lay tossed into the corner. Clothes were scattered about and a fat, lazy cat slept in the midst of it all. Meanwhile, the contents of my bookcase were scattered about. I looked around and thought to myself, What the fuck happened here last night?
As I was waiting for my friend Danielle to pick me up and bring me to work, I thought about the night before. I realized many things. One, I figured, was that the only person who really knows if Jackson is still alive is Liz Taylor. And secondly I realized...
This is it.
What follows are the events of that fateful morning.
1:37 AM
I arrived home with my god daughter's mother's husband Peter. The plan was that he was to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer with me. Partly because he had to work in four hours, and partly because my home was so filthy, he inclined to leave, which is a polite way of saying he declined to stay. My home was so filthy in fact, that when he asked if he could get himself a glass of water, I simply replied "Good luck."
1:45 AM
I discovered, while flipping my remote control in an attempt to ascertain which end was intended to be pointed towards the cable box, that I was famished. Without my cheeto loving friend Danielle to help me, I opted for some pasta left over from the Olive Garden that was in my refrigerator. While I devoured said pasta, I correctly pointed the remote control and selected an episode of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer.
2:08 AM
I found myself irritated that my cats were not paying apt attention to me. To resolve this discord, I selected to pour cat nip over the adjacent cushion of the couch I was sitting on. The result was, simply put, kitty adoration.
2:40 AM
Upon the episodes conclusion, I opted to watch a movie, one from a Netflix account that would require pluggng my computer into my television. Thusly, I stood up, directly onto an ashtray, which compliantly flipped, dispensing ash and cigarette butts onto the floor.
2:41 AM
After making no effort to clean the ashtray spill, I logged onto Netflix and selected This Is It, the Michael Jackson movie. Next I moved to connect the cord from my computer to my television that would allow me to watch it on the big screen. It wasn't working.
2:44 AM
I continuously attempted to connect the cord into to television. I got a broken, reddish, scattered picture. I tried and tried. Finally I chose to examine the cord, and upon so I noticed an abberation. It seemed that there was an alien element lodged in between the tongs of the cord. I attempted to remove the abberation via any means possible.
2:51 AM
I tried to remove the abberation with my fingers. No luck.
2:54 AM
I tried to remove the abberation with a match stick. No luck.
2:59 AM
It occured to me that perhaps if the television was closer to the computer the cord would be less likely to fall out. I dragged the entire entertainment center several feet closer to the computer desk, in the meanwhile knocking into a shelf, whose contents scattered onto the floor.
3:08 AM
I realized the abberation was actually a tong that had been pushed downward, I attempted to remove it in hopes that it was unneccesarry.
3:14 AM
In my attempts, I had thoroughly destroyed the cord, and realized that hooking my computer up to my TV was all but impossible. I ascertained that the correct course of action was to watch the movie directly on the computer.
3:19AM
I started watching Michael Jackson's: This is It, I thoroughly enjoyed it.
3:29 AM
During the movie I found myself again hungry and retrieved a Turkey and Swiss Starbucks sandwich from my refrigerator.
3:38 AM
While finishing up the first half of the sandwich, one of my cat-nipped cats, Sam, stole the second half, which he and my other cat, Diane, flung rampantly about the living room, part playing, part eating. I laughed and laughed.
3:44 AM
I opened a beer.
3:48 AM
I realized I was very warm, so decided to reinstall the A/C that I had taken out a few days prior. In the process, my screen came loose so I tossed it into a corner. A/C in and turned on, I resumed watching the movie.
3:58 AM
I realized part of the reason I was so warm was that I was wearing long pants, a t-shirt, long sleeved shirt, and a sweat shirt. I promptly removed all of my clothes and threw them aside.
4:38 AM
The movie ended and I became aware of the following items.
o This Is It is a movie everyone should see. It was awesome.
o Michael Jackson is probably the most talented person ever born. I know lots of people
say this, but I really did not realize or appreciate the entirity of its truth until now.
o It is completely possible, albeit likely, that Michael Jackson is still living.
There are reasons for this conspiracy theory. In watching the movie you see a man, who is dead allegedly days later, who is active and vital. I mean dancing, singing, spinning, and out doing himself. He does not seem frail, strung out, addicted, or afflicted.
The events surrounding his death are enormously suspicious, awkward, and clearly full of lies. There is, beit MJ is dead or alive, an untold story.
Finally, considering the option that Jackson is still alive is not as frivilous as assuming Elvis is alive, or Anna Nicole is alive. Elvis was a star, then became older, fatter, and addicted. Anna Nicole was surrounded in controversy. But no one, no one ever alive, has been as famous as Michael Jackson. People scream and cry and faint in his prescence. Even after his trial he was worshipped like a god. And let's not forget that trial, a not-guilty verdict that still branded him as a child molester.
So let's recap, an enormously famous person, so famous that people weep and faint in his presence, and I am sacrilgious enough to say much like he was Jesus Christ himself, dies under gigantically suspicious circumstsances. A circus ensues, memorial services, fights between his family. Meanwhile, all of his albums resurge and sell billions of copies, a greatest hit album is released, a final single, aptly titled This Is It is released, and that a film of the same name hits theaters.
Michael Jackson was famous to a fault. He wasn't Madonna, Elvis, or Princess Di. He wasn't Geroge Clooney, Brad Pitt, or Cher. He was Michael Fucking Jackson. And although I believe that "Michael Jackson" is dead and gone forever, I do not have a hard time believing that the man that was Michael Jackson is still with us. Perhaps living out his final days not wanting to be a media spectacle because he has cancer. Perhaps tipped off that there were more charges being brought against him. Perhaps just sick of waving out a window and hearing people shriek, sob, scream, and collapse. Perhaps, after 50 years of being publically crazy, just wanted to be crazy privately, all by himself.
12:39 PM The Next Day
I woke up. I walked out into my living room. There was cat nip on my couch. Half a sandwich on the floor surrounded by ashes and cigarette butts. My TV had been moved into the center of the room. There was an empty olive garden box on the floor. There was a full, open and untouched beer next to my computer. A window screen lay tossed into the corner. Clothes were scattered about and a fat, lazy cat slept in the midst of it all. Meanwhile, the contents of my bookcase were scattered about. I looked around and thought to myself, What the fuck happened here last night?
As I was waiting for my friend Danielle to pick me up and bring me to work, I thought about the night before. I realized many things. One, I figured, was that the only person who really knows if Jackson is still alive is Liz Taylor. And secondly I realized...
This is it.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Party Of One: Baby Come Back
Party Of One: Baby Come Back: "I am very succeptable to advertisements. Alex Trebek makes me want to be 55-80 years old so that I may purchase his life insurance. (in ..."
Baby Come Back
I am very succeptable to advertisements.
Alex Trebek makes me want to be 55-80 years old so that I may purchase his life insurance. (in the form of a question)
I want a hover-round, so that I can scooter myself to the edge of the Grand Canyon.
I even logged onto Progressive.com so that Flo could give me my automobile insurance rates as compared to their competitors. Unfortunately, I learned that in order to purchase auto insurance you need to have a drivers license, or at the very least, a car.
Because I am a fan of her music, I want all of the sickly imprisoned pets that Sarah McLachlan advocates to come live with me. Even though I am uninjured, I do want to bring someone to justice. I am intrigued about pursuing careers in the following tracks: truck driving, culinary, and AC/heating repair. Perhaps I should attend a vocational institute. Mostly, I am just sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Peggy, who thought she was dying of pancreatic cancer, and then was cured at the cancer institute of Wonderland, makes me wish I had cancer, so I can be cured too. I would like to be (again) skinny and sexy and tan so I could wear the ridiculous clothes the models wear in the cologne advertisements, and oh, I would like to smell like them too, at least smell like them for longer than the two seconds it takes for a fragrance to wear off that one has smeared over their body from the torn flap of a magazine. Not that I have ever done that.
I actually bought the Axe scrubby, harsh on one side and soft on the other, like I even shower. I sympathize with the men that have to shave on TV.
I want to buy Martha Stewart's line of pet supplies for my cats. I mean, hell, I can't get the Meow Mix song out of my head. I mean, hell, part of me from my youth wants to be Zestfully clean. Part of me from my youth is glad that I used Dial and wished everyone had.
I know what those animated bears are talking about when the toilet paper they keep on a twig gets stuck on their fur. I agree with Jamie Lee Curtis, Activia is delicous although it didnt regulate my "system", it gave me diarea. I think that 80 calorie yogurt Heidi Kluum eats seems delcious.
I know I am not fat, but I do not eat healthily. Vallerie Bertanelli looks GREAT and I think getting diet food mailed to you on a schedule sounds fun. I wish I had a before and after picture. I kinda want to call "Jenny" and see if she has a program for pre-middle-aged skinny guys with a beer belly. Do they have a program for that?
I want to marry someone from Match.com, simulatenously I am curious about what E-Harmony's 29 itemed personality profile would say about me.
I want a Bo-Flex. (I want a Suzanne Sommes Thigh Master). I want to do the ulmtimate push up, the ultimate sit up. I want to do video pilates.
I want every cell phone I have ever seen advertised.
I want to get a 4 star hotel room for $89 in Chicago at Travelocity.com, even though I can get a 4 star hotel for $39 via my step brothers discount.
I want to negotiate airfare on priceline. I want to buy a washer and dryer from Sears, a Kenmore preferably.
I wish I had some old scrap gold I could sell to Good Ol' Tom, or maybe just to mail away.
I want to disinfect everything with Clorox wipes.
I can't wait to see what DVD will be opened next in the Disney vault. I can't wait to see which DVD will be mailed next on my third Netflix free trial. I miss the days when I could get 16 CD's or casettes for a penny.
I am certain that I have Restless Leg Syndrome, Over active bladder (gotta go gotta go gotta go!) I don't want to quit smoking but Nicorette sounds enticing.
I am in awe of all the uses for Ziploc bags.
Proactiv makes me wish I had acne as a teen. I feel like I missed out,
Excedrin reliveves headaches fatster if your windows are too clean.
Maybeline will give me falseless mascara!!!! Have I gone crazy?
The answer is yes. I may have sounded a bit tongue in cheek but I assure you, my tongue is currently placed firmly and directly in the center of my mouth. I am not kidding, not joking, I really want these things,
I am succeptable to advertising. In fact, to the point of a fault. I only hope, I only wish, I only pray, that one day, and one day not too for in the future, that there will be a Swiffer device to cure me of this ailment.
Also of the ailment or the correct yet excessive use of commas.
Alex Trebek makes me want to be 55-80 years old so that I may purchase his life insurance. (in the form of a question)
I want a hover-round, so that I can scooter myself to the edge of the Grand Canyon.
I even logged onto Progressive.com so that Flo could give me my automobile insurance rates as compared to their competitors. Unfortunately, I learned that in order to purchase auto insurance you need to have a drivers license, or at the very least, a car.
Because I am a fan of her music, I want all of the sickly imprisoned pets that Sarah McLachlan advocates to come live with me. Even though I am uninjured, I do want to bring someone to justice. I am intrigued about pursuing careers in the following tracks: truck driving, culinary, and AC/heating repair. Perhaps I should attend a vocational institute. Mostly, I am just sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Peggy, who thought she was dying of pancreatic cancer, and then was cured at the cancer institute of Wonderland, makes me wish I had cancer, so I can be cured too. I would like to be (again) skinny and sexy and tan so I could wear the ridiculous clothes the models wear in the cologne advertisements, and oh, I would like to smell like them too, at least smell like them for longer than the two seconds it takes for a fragrance to wear off that one has smeared over their body from the torn flap of a magazine. Not that I have ever done that.
I actually bought the Axe scrubby, harsh on one side and soft on the other, like I even shower. I sympathize with the men that have to shave on TV.
I want to buy Martha Stewart's line of pet supplies for my cats. I mean, hell, I can't get the Meow Mix song out of my head. I mean, hell, part of me from my youth wants to be Zestfully clean. Part of me from my youth is glad that I used Dial and wished everyone had.
I know what those animated bears are talking about when the toilet paper they keep on a twig gets stuck on their fur. I agree with Jamie Lee Curtis, Activia is delicous although it didnt regulate my "system", it gave me diarea. I think that 80 calorie yogurt Heidi Kluum eats seems delcious.
I know I am not fat, but I do not eat healthily. Vallerie Bertanelli looks GREAT and I think getting diet food mailed to you on a schedule sounds fun. I wish I had a before and after picture. I kinda want to call "Jenny" and see if she has a program for pre-middle-aged skinny guys with a beer belly. Do they have a program for that?
I want to marry someone from Match.com, simulatenously I am curious about what E-Harmony's 29 itemed personality profile would say about me.
I want a Bo-Flex. (I want a Suzanne Sommes Thigh Master). I want to do the ulmtimate push up, the ultimate sit up. I want to do video pilates.
I want every cell phone I have ever seen advertised.
I want to get a 4 star hotel room for $89 in Chicago at Travelocity.com, even though I can get a 4 star hotel for $39 via my step brothers discount.
I want to negotiate airfare on priceline. I want to buy a washer and dryer from Sears, a Kenmore preferably.
I wish I had some old scrap gold I could sell to Good Ol' Tom, or maybe just to mail away.
I want to disinfect everything with Clorox wipes.
I can't wait to see what DVD will be opened next in the Disney vault. I can't wait to see which DVD will be mailed next on my third Netflix free trial. I miss the days when I could get 16 CD's or casettes for a penny.
I am certain that I have Restless Leg Syndrome, Over active bladder (gotta go gotta go gotta go!) I don't want to quit smoking but Nicorette sounds enticing.
I am in awe of all the uses for Ziploc bags.
Proactiv makes me wish I had acne as a teen. I feel like I missed out,
Excedrin reliveves headaches fatster if your windows are too clean.
Maybeline will give me falseless mascara!!!! Have I gone crazy?
The answer is yes. I may have sounded a bit tongue in cheek but I assure you, my tongue is currently placed firmly and directly in the center of my mouth. I am not kidding, not joking, I really want these things,
I am succeptable to advertising. In fact, to the point of a fault. I only hope, I only wish, I only pray, that one day, and one day not too for in the future, that there will be a Swiffer device to cure me of this ailment.
Also of the ailment or the correct yet excessive use of commas.
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