While watching the train wreck that was Britney Spears a few weeks ago, one thought kept recurring in my mind. That is- when I could actually unfocus from the obvious – the cleavage, the eyelash coming detached, the rat’s nest hair, the see through shirt and the mini skirt I thought for sure was going to go above her head. Obviously, as a public relations executive, I was horrified on many levels.
More on my recurring thought in a second. Britney and I are roughly the same age – she’s 23 and I’m 25 – so unlike some pop stars like Madonna, I can actually remember the things she was doing right around the time she was doing them and think things to myself like wow, when I was 18 I hadn’t done this or that or whatever. But I was never a fan of Britney Spears. Sure I know her songs, they play them so damn much you can’t help it and I like them just fine, but I was never one of those Britney-obsessed girls. I didn’t like her. So anyways, while I’m watching the Dateline interview, all I kept thinking was – does she really not get it? Is she really that thick? She spent her entire career courting the media, teasing them with provocative photos, doing sexy performances, skin baring outfits, barely there videos and so on and so forth. And I admit, she had a slamming body and was cute as a button. But then you look at her now – hair a mess, walking barefoot into bathrooms, husband who looks like any white rapper wanna be in America, and I think to myself…you seriously don’t understand why people would be fascinated on how someone go from that to this in just a matter of two years or so? I’d be fascinated if it was someone I actually knew, nevermind a girl who spent her whole life perfecting the image of the prom queen tease and now looks like crap- all in the media spotlight? I mean come on! You can’t spend your whole life trying to be the number one pop culture discussion item (um and please don’t forget Britney and Kevin’s Chaotic, which was desgined to provoke) and then have the balls to complain when the media takes it too far!
Then…what really gets me going is that in the two weeks following, following the TV segment where she begs and cries to be left alone, she has not ONE but TWO magazine spreads about herself and her pregnancy! Does that sound like someone who doesn’t want to be in the spotlight? Even worse, in the new Harper’s Bazaar, she’s naked and topless in the photos! Does THAT sound like someone who doesn’t want people talking? Come on! Get off your high horse you stupid ‘ho! (yes I said ‘ho- she’s trashtastic!) You’re an attention whore! So get over it and start dealing with the attention you obviously crave! Because if you didn’t crave it…you’d just disappear like every other star in Hollywood who doesnt' want to be in the tabloids.
Ugh!
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
The We-Bomb and Need Your Help
The We-Bomb
I would define my current state as single and semi-looking. Therefore, when I meet someone new, I can always jump ahead and begin imagining our future together. I know, I know…crayyyyyzeeeee. However, anyways, today I met a Mark Ruffalo lookalike who I thought was cute until he started using what I like to call the we-bomb.
Boys and girls use the we-bomb differently. When a girl uses the we-bomb she could be referring to anyone – her boyfriend, her roommate, her co-worker, her girlfriend. Girls require no pretext when using the we-bomb. In any story, she’ll drop in a we-bomb and no one thinks twice.
When a boy uses the we-bomb he is only referring to his significant other. Otherwise, he will say my roommate and I, my boy and I, or what have you. I believe this stems from the subconscious desire to let the opposite party know that he is indeed single…and ready to mingle if you will.
Would you Read This Book?
Among the following two opening paragraphs, I need genuine feedback on which one piques your interest more. Thanks in advance – I’ll thank you in my Pulitzer Prize Speech. And if Pulitzer Prize winners don’t give speeches – f* that, I’ll start the trend.
1. ) I sat in my car, in the grocery store parking lot across the street from my office building, listening to the 80s lunch hour with DJ Donny B on the radio. With the air conditioner blasting away to keep the South Florida heat at bay, I ate my sandwich and sang silently to “I Think We’re Alone Now.”
I sat contemplating the building just across the way, an inconspicuous bank building that unbeknownst to all passers-by, housed what I had nicknamed “Hell on Earth,” the public relations firm of O’Shanahan and Goldsmith.
O’Shanahan and Goldsmith had been my professional home for just about seven months. My first job out of college and where I did public relations for hospitals and lawyers. It was a far cry from the glamorous job I pictured when I was in school. I had imagined velvet ropes, parties, lunches with reporters and general fabulousness. Instead, I toiled away in a 8 X 10 office with some of worst human beings ever placed on planet Earth.
2.) The alarm rang with its brain-splitting shriek directly into my left ear at approximately 6:47 a.m. on Monday, May 3, 2003. I bolted upright out of my semi-asleep state and hit the off button. Today was my first day of work. The beginning of my Career. The day that all my schooling, professional development, after-school and intramural activities, careful grooming and endless studying, culminated into my becoming a Successful Person, one on the very short path to millionairehood.
I was incredibly scared and wished I was back in college. I’m sorry to admit it, but that indeed was my first thought on the first day of my Career.
I would have given my left arm for just one more day of weekend. I say left and not right because I don’t rely on my left arm nearly as much as I rely on my right arm. I wasn’t so desperate that I would have given my right arm. Anyways, I would have given my left arm for one more day to postpone the inevitable, the day I officially became an adult. The day where I could literally watch my responsibility-free life disappear before my very eyes. If the Devil had appeared with a hacksaw for my arm and the offer to turn back time I most definitely would have accepted his offer. I waited for a few moments to see if Lucifer felt like making an appearance, and when he did not, I got out of bed to brush my teeth.
I would define my current state as single and semi-looking. Therefore, when I meet someone new, I can always jump ahead and begin imagining our future together. I know, I know…crayyyyyzeeeee. However, anyways, today I met a Mark Ruffalo lookalike who I thought was cute until he started using what I like to call the we-bomb.
Boys and girls use the we-bomb differently. When a girl uses the we-bomb she could be referring to anyone – her boyfriend, her roommate, her co-worker, her girlfriend. Girls require no pretext when using the we-bomb. In any story, she’ll drop in a we-bomb and no one thinks twice.
When a boy uses the we-bomb he is only referring to his significant other. Otherwise, he will say my roommate and I, my boy and I, or what have you. I believe this stems from the subconscious desire to let the opposite party know that he is indeed single…and ready to mingle if you will.
Would you Read This Book?
Among the following two opening paragraphs, I need genuine feedback on which one piques your interest more. Thanks in advance – I’ll thank you in my Pulitzer Prize Speech. And if Pulitzer Prize winners don’t give speeches – f* that, I’ll start the trend.
1. ) I sat in my car, in the grocery store parking lot across the street from my office building, listening to the 80s lunch hour with DJ Donny B on the radio. With the air conditioner blasting away to keep the South Florida heat at bay, I ate my sandwich and sang silently to “I Think We’re Alone Now.”
I sat contemplating the building just across the way, an inconspicuous bank building that unbeknownst to all passers-by, housed what I had nicknamed “Hell on Earth,” the public relations firm of O’Shanahan and Goldsmith.
O’Shanahan and Goldsmith had been my professional home for just about seven months. My first job out of college and where I did public relations for hospitals and lawyers. It was a far cry from the glamorous job I pictured when I was in school. I had imagined velvet ropes, parties, lunches with reporters and general fabulousness. Instead, I toiled away in a 8 X 10 office with some of worst human beings ever placed on planet Earth.
2.) The alarm rang with its brain-splitting shriek directly into my left ear at approximately 6:47 a.m. on Monday, May 3, 2003. I bolted upright out of my semi-asleep state and hit the off button. Today was my first day of work. The beginning of my Career. The day that all my schooling, professional development, after-school and intramural activities, careful grooming and endless studying, culminated into my becoming a Successful Person, one on the very short path to millionairehood.
I was incredibly scared and wished I was back in college. I’m sorry to admit it, but that indeed was my first thought on the first day of my Career.
I would have given my left arm for just one more day of weekend. I say left and not right because I don’t rely on my left arm nearly as much as I rely on my right arm. I wasn’t so desperate that I would have given my right arm. Anyways, I would have given my left arm for one more day to postpone the inevitable, the day I officially became an adult. The day where I could literally watch my responsibility-free life disappear before my very eyes. If the Devil had appeared with a hacksaw for my arm and the offer to turn back time I most definitely would have accepted his offer. I waited for a few moments to see if Lucifer felt like making an appearance, and when he did not, I got out of bed to brush my teeth.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Conversations and Ruminations
I had a very nice conversation today with someone, somewhat out of nowhere. It’s funny to me how this happens sometimes. You start talking to someone about one thing, but then wind up on a completely different topic, and you wind up thinking on that all day.
What started as a joke, turned into a conversation about life and how to enjoy it. How to make sure that you get out what you put in. How to make sure that you aren’t ruminating too much on things that bring you down, or make you feel bad and keeping negativity out of your life. And I realized, that the last few years, I’ve been allowing too much of this to creep into my daily existence.
One of the things I liked most about my younger self is that I never let anything get to me. Most things rolled off my back and I can’t remember ever staying up at night or worrying about anything.
Somewhere during college that started to shift. I started worrying about money when I saw my student loan debt growing, started worrying about finding a job, worrying about tests, etc. Then I graduated and that got worse. I wasn’t living where I wanted or doing what I wanted. I found myself getting obsessed by people I didn’t like and what’s worse, I didn’t balance that with people I did like or the things I liked doing.
Then I moved to NYC and I’ve found myself once again not as involved in my own life as I’d like to be. When I moved, I promised myself I’d take dance classes, that I’d go to the park every weekend, go to Broadway shows, that I’d learn Italian, that I’d read more. Instead, each night I come home too exhausted to do much but watch TV and talk to my roommates for a little while. I've done pretty good on weekends, but not as good as I could have and I'm not sure why. Each day is just like the next, even in the biggest and most dynamic city in the world.
So…now that I’ve got the chance to start over yet again, and believe me I am very happy for yet another chance to do so, I am going to do it better. I’d like to start participating in my life a bit more. I don’t want to work to death, as a matter of fact, work, while important, is no longer my life’s goal. I now see work as a means to end, the end being the things I want to do. Which include learning new things and doing the things I enjoy. At 25, I’d like to start being 25…not 55, like I sometimes feel.
So thank you to my friend who confirmed that I’m not crazy, that this is something everyone realizes (or chooses to realize) and validated to me that what I’m doing, what I’m embarking on, is right. The journey starts next Friday, when I leave for my two week vacation and return with nothing before me but time to get back to center. I have bought a ton of books and I have zero plans. And I can’t…freaking…wait.
What started as a joke, turned into a conversation about life and how to enjoy it. How to make sure that you get out what you put in. How to make sure that you aren’t ruminating too much on things that bring you down, or make you feel bad and keeping negativity out of your life. And I realized, that the last few years, I’ve been allowing too much of this to creep into my daily existence.
One of the things I liked most about my younger self is that I never let anything get to me. Most things rolled off my back and I can’t remember ever staying up at night or worrying about anything.
Somewhere during college that started to shift. I started worrying about money when I saw my student loan debt growing, started worrying about finding a job, worrying about tests, etc. Then I graduated and that got worse. I wasn’t living where I wanted or doing what I wanted. I found myself getting obsessed by people I didn’t like and what’s worse, I didn’t balance that with people I did like or the things I liked doing.
Then I moved to NYC and I’ve found myself once again not as involved in my own life as I’d like to be. When I moved, I promised myself I’d take dance classes, that I’d go to the park every weekend, go to Broadway shows, that I’d learn Italian, that I’d read more. Instead, each night I come home too exhausted to do much but watch TV and talk to my roommates for a little while. I've done pretty good on weekends, but not as good as I could have and I'm not sure why. Each day is just like the next, even in the biggest and most dynamic city in the world.
So…now that I’ve got the chance to start over yet again, and believe me I am very happy for yet another chance to do so, I am going to do it better. I’d like to start participating in my life a bit more. I don’t want to work to death, as a matter of fact, work, while important, is no longer my life’s goal. I now see work as a means to end, the end being the things I want to do. Which include learning new things and doing the things I enjoy. At 25, I’d like to start being 25…not 55, like I sometimes feel.
So thank you to my friend who confirmed that I’m not crazy, that this is something everyone realizes (or chooses to realize) and validated to me that what I’m doing, what I’m embarking on, is right. The journey starts next Friday, when I leave for my two week vacation and return with nothing before me but time to get back to center. I have bought a ton of books and I have zero plans. And I can’t…freaking…wait.
Monday, June 19, 2006
The Best Celebrity Spotting...EVER
About six months ago, my roommate invited me to go see a play with her and her friend visiting from out of town. I was busy, and a little strapped for cash, so I declined.
That night she had the greatest celebrity spotting ever….the Hoff. As in David Hasselhoff. Needless to say, I was furious. I hardly ever beg out of anything for monetary reasons, I’m a firm believer in being entertained at all times, no matter what the cost. So the fact that I had done this was infuriating enough. To be slapped with the double whammy of a Hoff sighting, the only one I’ve ever heard of, was akin to torture. I had a feeling I could never top it.
Fast forward to yesterday. Columbus Circle at 57th St. I was heading back to my apartment from visiting a friend, and I decided that despite the sweltering humidity (and if a Floridian is saying this, you know it’s bad) that I would walk home.
I was rewarded for my valiant effort with the only celebrity spotting that I knew could top my roommate’s Hoff sighting….I saw Vinny Chase. Adrian Grenier.
My roommate is in LOVE with Adrian Grenier, as I suspect, are many women in America. I’m sorry to report that Vinny Chase does not look any better in person, he looks the exact same. His eyes are very blue and he is currently sporting a very large fro. He was with one of those girls, who upon first glance is pretty…think Ukranian Super Model type. But then you look again and she’s a butter face (everything looks good, butter face – just say it out loud).
Anyways, I tried to catch his eye to see if he would dash over and leave U.S.M. behind, ask me out and then whisk me off to the upcoming The Devil Wears Prada premiere, but I couldn’t. And so I continued walking and it was just as well. I had won a battle I didn’t think I had any chance of winning. And victory was sweet indeed.
That night she had the greatest celebrity spotting ever….the Hoff. As in David Hasselhoff. Needless to say, I was furious. I hardly ever beg out of anything for monetary reasons, I’m a firm believer in being entertained at all times, no matter what the cost. So the fact that I had done this was infuriating enough. To be slapped with the double whammy of a Hoff sighting, the only one I’ve ever heard of, was akin to torture. I had a feeling I could never top it.
Fast forward to yesterday. Columbus Circle at 57th St. I was heading back to my apartment from visiting a friend, and I decided that despite the sweltering humidity (and if a Floridian is saying this, you know it’s bad) that I would walk home.
I was rewarded for my valiant effort with the only celebrity spotting that I knew could top my roommate’s Hoff sighting….I saw Vinny Chase. Adrian Grenier.
My roommate is in LOVE with Adrian Grenier, as I suspect, are many women in America. I’m sorry to report that Vinny Chase does not look any better in person, he looks the exact same. His eyes are very blue and he is currently sporting a very large fro. He was with one of those girls, who upon first glance is pretty…think Ukranian Super Model type. But then you look again and she’s a butter face (everything looks good, butter face – just say it out loud).
Anyways, I tried to catch his eye to see if he would dash over and leave U.S.M. behind, ask me out and then whisk me off to the upcoming The Devil Wears Prada premiere, but I couldn’t. And so I continued walking and it was just as well. I had won a battle I didn’t think I had any chance of winning. And victory was sweet indeed.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Rascal Flatts
So, I know I’m a little late in the game in discovering these guys, but a couple of months ago someone mentioned they were going to a concert and it sparked me to download their music. Which I did, but I didn’t transfer onto my iPod for a couple of months. About a week ago, I finally moved it over and now I’m totally obsessed. I have about 11 songs that I’ve listened on constant repeat and now I have them memorized and I need more. Anyways, if you’ve never checked them out, I highly recommend them.
More Cowbell
In preparation for my upcoming vacation, I’ve been doing some strategic shopping. I went online to my favorite T-Shirt site and bought two shirts. One with the outline of Kenya, and inside the outline it says – “Kenya Dig It?” So awesome.
But not as awesome as the second shirt, which I bought for the select few, that as I’m walking down the street, will “get.” Its says “More Cowbell” and has a photo of a cowbell.
If you have any idea what this means, chances are we are friends and I love you dearly. If you do not have any idea what this means, allow me to learn ya’:
If you do not think this is one of the funniest things you have ever seen – don’t bother ever reading this blog again.
So, I know I’m a little late in the game in discovering these guys, but a couple of months ago someone mentioned they were going to a concert and it sparked me to download their music. Which I did, but I didn’t transfer onto my iPod for a couple of months. About a week ago, I finally moved it over and now I’m totally obsessed. I have about 11 songs that I’ve listened on constant repeat and now I have them memorized and I need more. Anyways, if you’ve never checked them out, I highly recommend them.
More Cowbell
In preparation for my upcoming vacation, I’ve been doing some strategic shopping. I went online to my favorite T-Shirt site and bought two shirts. One with the outline of Kenya, and inside the outline it says – “Kenya Dig It?” So awesome.
But not as awesome as the second shirt, which I bought for the select few, that as I’m walking down the street, will “get.” Its says “More Cowbell” and has a photo of a cowbell.
If you have any idea what this means, chances are we are friends and I love you dearly. If you do not have any idea what this means, allow me to learn ya’:
If you do not think this is one of the funniest things you have ever seen – don’t bother ever reading this blog again.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Hello Abyss? What's up...It's Lia
Is my blog boring now that my gym boyfriend is out of the picture? I realized I struggle for daily thoughts to write about…although I start a million entries I post only a few. Sometimes, I like writing just to write, not to share. However, it dawned on me that I usually wound up sharing my gym boyfriend entries because I could actually finish them and post them without anyone thinking I had too much time on my hands. I started a whole rant the other day about the Dixie Chicks and how it’s totally unfair that they get black listed and death threats while men who make music bashing the President don’t get one millionth of the backlash. But I never finished it and didn’t post it…and then looking back on the last few months the only consistent thing I ever write about is Gym Boyfriend.
The funny thing is, even though we broke up, Gym Boyfriend lives on. I see him all of the time, and even my friends have taken to calling him Gym Boyfriend. He’s at the coffee shop and at the bank, and always, obviously, in the gym. I see him staring, though now I’m totally convinced he is not staring at me nor is he interested in any way. One year is MORE than enough time to work up the courage to talk to someone, if you were interested in doing so.
The reason for my rant today? I have finally taken the plunge. I gave notice at my job, setting the wheels in motion for my move back to Florida. My last official day is June 29. It feels very good to have finally ended the double life I’ve been leading the last few months as I contemplated my decision. It also means, that sadly, my New York life will come to an end in August. This is obviously very bittersweet for me. Coming here was a huge dream of mine, one that I filled all on my own. I carved out a pretty great life and in the thick of it, I’ve decided to leave. I miss my family and I have to know once and for all if my current quasi-boyfriend should/can be together. The only way to know this is to move home and see what happens. And if it doesn’t work out, I do have my family close by which is something I missed more than I ever though I would.
I think that my Gym Boyfriend stands for so much more than just a crush I had on someone I saw every day. It was a way to escape and pretend that maybe there was an iota of a chance that maybe I was meant to stay here forever. I don’t think I was meant to, but it represented the possibility. If for some reason, Gym Boyfriend, or any other Boyfriend had materialized, it would have added a layer to my existence here that could have persuaded me to reevaluate things. I’m not saying it would have made me stay – I don’t think any decision should be made over a man or a relationship – but it would have played a role.
On the other hand, maybe the fact that no such person materialized, though I’m sure it could have if I was really interested, is a sign that quasi-boyfriend IS going to work out. I’ve met a lot of people in my time here and I think that had I met someone interesting enough or someone who held my attention for more than 0.5 seconds, I would have done something about it. But I didn’t. And I have to believe that counts for something as well.
I think the toughest part about this decision is that you’ll never know, either way, what would have been best. It’s one of those decisions where you just have to accept that your brain and your heart may be sending you mixed messages, and you just have to toss logic and reason out the window for once. I feel a bit like I just parachuted into a black hole – with no bottom, with no sense of speed, just kind of floating in the abyss. And even though I have never done this before in my life, not have a plan, not have a clear-cut sense on if what I’m doing is right or smart or totally in my hands…it does feel okay. And in a way, very liberating.
The funny thing is, even though we broke up, Gym Boyfriend lives on. I see him all of the time, and even my friends have taken to calling him Gym Boyfriend. He’s at the coffee shop and at the bank, and always, obviously, in the gym. I see him staring, though now I’m totally convinced he is not staring at me nor is he interested in any way. One year is MORE than enough time to work up the courage to talk to someone, if you were interested in doing so.
The reason for my rant today? I have finally taken the plunge. I gave notice at my job, setting the wheels in motion for my move back to Florida. My last official day is June 29. It feels very good to have finally ended the double life I’ve been leading the last few months as I contemplated my decision. It also means, that sadly, my New York life will come to an end in August. This is obviously very bittersweet for me. Coming here was a huge dream of mine, one that I filled all on my own. I carved out a pretty great life and in the thick of it, I’ve decided to leave. I miss my family and I have to know once and for all if my current quasi-boyfriend should/can be together. The only way to know this is to move home and see what happens. And if it doesn’t work out, I do have my family close by which is something I missed more than I ever though I would.
I think that my Gym Boyfriend stands for so much more than just a crush I had on someone I saw every day. It was a way to escape and pretend that maybe there was an iota of a chance that maybe I was meant to stay here forever. I don’t think I was meant to, but it represented the possibility. If for some reason, Gym Boyfriend, or any other Boyfriend had materialized, it would have added a layer to my existence here that could have persuaded me to reevaluate things. I’m not saying it would have made me stay – I don’t think any decision should be made over a man or a relationship – but it would have played a role.
On the other hand, maybe the fact that no such person materialized, though I’m sure it could have if I was really interested, is a sign that quasi-boyfriend IS going to work out. I’ve met a lot of people in my time here and I think that had I met someone interesting enough or someone who held my attention for more than 0.5 seconds, I would have done something about it. But I didn’t. And I have to believe that counts for something as well.
I think the toughest part about this decision is that you’ll never know, either way, what would have been best. It’s one of those decisions where you just have to accept that your brain and your heart may be sending you mixed messages, and you just have to toss logic and reason out the window for once. I feel a bit like I just parachuted into a black hole – with no bottom, with no sense of speed, just kind of floating in the abyss. And even though I have never done this before in my life, not have a plan, not have a clear-cut sense on if what I’m doing is right or smart or totally in my hands…it does feel okay. And in a way, very liberating.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Living in La-La Land...Literally
Just saw…
Molly Shannon walking her babies (twins?) up 8th Avenue. Of course, I was staring try to figure out if it was her…of course she was staring back like What the hell are you looking at. In any case, once I recognized, I looked away…and began writing this post in my head. The corner of 14th and 8th is starting to be my “spot!” So far Gwen Stefani, cross-dressing tranny, and Molly Shannon all spotted there! I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I camp out all together.
CSI: Love Interest
So… in the absence of a gym boyfriend, my subconscious could not leave well enough alone and went looking elsewhere for someone to fawn over. It found him, on CSI, the Las Vegas edition. George Eads, who plays CSI Nick Stokes is PERFECT. He is hot (see picture below), obviously works out and is into forensics, JUST LIKE ME. Not in real life (that I know of) but he is on TV, which is good enough.
If it wasn’t bad enough that I’ve watched every CSI saved on the TV (and let me tell you, there were a lot), he was actually in my dream last night!! Somehow, we were in a house and he was ironing his shirt and I was trying to determine if he liked me. The answer was yes, which I unfortunately found out exactly as my alarm rang, but even Snooze couldn’t bring me back into the dream. This is no way to start your day.
But the best thing about this CSI Boyfriend? He can be saved, to be watched over and over again. God help TiVo if he ever does a shirtless scene!
My love life = Pathetic.
Molly Shannon walking her babies (twins?) up 8th Avenue. Of course, I was staring try to figure out if it was her…of course she was staring back like What the hell are you looking at. In any case, once I recognized, I looked away…and began writing this post in my head. The corner of 14th and 8th is starting to be my “spot!” So far Gwen Stefani, cross-dressing tranny, and Molly Shannon all spotted there! I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I camp out all together.
CSI: Love Interest
So… in the absence of a gym boyfriend, my subconscious could not leave well enough alone and went looking elsewhere for someone to fawn over. It found him, on CSI, the Las Vegas edition. George Eads, who plays CSI Nick Stokes is PERFECT. He is hot (see picture below), obviously works out and is into forensics, JUST LIKE ME. Not in real life (that I know of) but he is on TV, which is good enough.
If it wasn’t bad enough that I’ve watched every CSI saved on the TV (and let me tell you, there were a lot), he was actually in my dream last night!! Somehow, we were in a house and he was ironing his shirt and I was trying to determine if he liked me. The answer was yes, which I unfortunately found out exactly as my alarm rang, but even Snooze couldn’t bring me back into the dream. This is no way to start your day.
But the best thing about this CSI Boyfriend? He can be saved, to be watched over and over again. God help TiVo if he ever does a shirtless scene!
My love life = Pathetic.
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