hairs around Rachel McAdams’ nipples? SO SICK. You know what, you fucking Dork Brigade fuckwads who are having a cow that a woman DARE to have hair in an area unapproved by you, I think that perhaps you should not be so concerned, because the chances of YOU getting up close and personal with Rachel McAdams’ breasts are so minute they don’t register on any scale that can be seen by the human eye.
Who are these freakin’ dorks who are NO PRIZES themselves, holding up some impossible standard for women to live up to? Oh no, she has hairy nipples! Oh no, she’s bigger than a size 0! Oh no, they’re wearing granny panties! Oh no, they don’t shave every single public hair, and in fact every hair from every inch of their body except their heads! The horror! THE HORROR!
I’m sure that if Rachel McAdams knew that pictures of her nipples were going to be splashed all over the internet she would have yanked out the hairs just to spare the Dork Brigade the sheer horror of having to be aware of the fact that she’s a living, breathing human and exists for purposes beyond serving as an image for them to jerk off to.
When I think of the Dork Brigade, I think of a bunch of guys who strongly resemble Philip Seymour Hoffman in Boogie Nights (only a tenth as HOT, if you know what I mean), (or maybe this guy) sitting in front of their computers wearing clothes that haven’t been washed in a week, guzzling Coke, eating pizza, clicking through the nekkid celebrity sites and saying things like “I could never do Rachel McAdams. She has a couple of HAIRS around her NIPPLES. So gross!”
GOD.
* * *
Also on my nerves: this “War on Christmas” horseshit. I think that we are all adults, and I think that if you have half a brain in your head, whether I say “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” or “Happy what-the-fuck-ever”, you are possibly intelligent enough to understand that what I am saying is “Have a good one; now get the fuck out of my way.” So shut the fuck up about the “War on Christmas” and… get the fuck out of my way.
* * *
Rumor has it that Renee Zellweger and Kenny Chesney have been seeing each other recently. I suspect that Renee Zellweger might be a fan of the drama. Didn’t she and Jack White break up and make up many times over the course of their relationship? She’s a closet drama queen, mark my words.
* * *
I watched
Celebrity Autobiography: In Their Own Words on Friday, and it was funny as SHIT. The best part was the two guys (whose names I didn’t catch) reading from Sylvester Stallone’s and Tommy Lee’s autobiographies. HILARIOUS.
Definitely worth
checking out if you get Bravo.
* * *
This weekend I discovered that there’s no way I’ll ever be a Xanax addict. Fred’s been encouraging me to try a Xanax ever since he got his prescription (and then took three or four of them and stopped taking them, so he could save them for a rainy day), and on Saturday I finally tried one. (Not looking for a lecture, by the way. It’s not like I’ll be jumping into my time machine and going back to change the fact that I took it.)
I hated the way it made me feel. First it made me really sleepy, so I went back to bed and slept for two hours. Then when I finally rolled my ass out of bed and got dressed, I felt groggy. Eating lunch woke me up a little, and for the rest of the day I was simultaneously spacey and in a really, really bad mood. A bad mood that’s just now starting to abate.
I don’t like feeling high in any way, thus the reason I don’t drink or do drugs (though that meth
sounds like some gooood stuff, doesn’t it? Where can I get me some o’ that?!), and I don’t ever want to take another Xanax again in my life, thanks.
* * *
Fred painted his bedroom this weekend.
Before:
After:
I really, really like it. It’s amazing how much cozier and homier it looks in there now with the walls that color. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: The man sure knows how to pick out a room color!
* * *
Speaking of Fred’s bedroom, I got yet another concerned “Why do you and Fred have separate rooms? That doesn’t seem like it’s very good for your marriage!” email this weekend. I didn’t answer it, because I’m tired – you have NO idea how tired – of answering that question. It surprises me just how many people assume that the fact that we sleep in separate beds is a bad thing. The longer I’m married, the more I realize just how rigid people can be when it comes to the idea of what does and does not entail a healthy marriage. And the longer I’m married, the more I realize that each marriage is an entity unto itself and what would never work for one married couple works perfectly fine for another.
Let me assure you that my marriage is perfectly healthy and that we spend as much time laying in bed talking as any couple who sleeps in the same bed. And you don’t have to actually share a bed at night to have a healthy sex life as well.
But, y’know, thanks for your concern and everything.
Now if I could just get the cats to sleep in
their own room, I’d be a happy camper.
* * *
I uploaded a veritable ton of pictures over at Flickr today.
Go check ’em out.
* * *
Previously
2004: I’d swear to never use Amazon again, but it’s so FREAKING convenient I just can’t help myself.
2003: Clearly we were in the presence of REALLY important people.
2002: Because I’m just that good.
2001: That’s right, damnit, I’m a chick magnet!
2000: We’re standing strong in the face of those two snowflakes.
1999: Though I guess “substance” would be a matter of opinion.]]>
