New spot for baby fat?
Not to be too catty, but I'm struck by Britney Spears' big, fat wrestler neck. I've noticed it before, but it's like someone stuck Barbie's head on Henry Rollins…
She's got those trailer trash lines where fat rolls will soon sag out, too, if you look close… so eventually she's going to look like trashy Barbie on Henry Rollins' neck covered by a big, soft fleshy sock…
He he!
That's what I get for checking into Google news all day — you never know what's going to catch your attention. Could be a literal train derailment across the world, or a virtual one across the country!
I need these things to keep me entertained and informed. Sad but true. But hey, I'm journalist through and through, no matter what industry I may currently be whoring myself out for.
Which is why it shouldn't come as a shock, thought it does at least to me, that I'll be checking out Columbia School of Journalism's PhD program next month. Granted, the odds of me getting in are about the same as the odds of me marrying the prince of Denmark, (once he ditches that awful Australian, that is!) but hey, stranger things have happened.
And, I've got to be building up good karma by getting on the train by 6–bloody–a.m. on a Saturday to get to Man–effing–hattan on time, right?!?!?
Plus, if I don't like what I see, I can always move to Denmark…
She's got those trailer trash lines where fat rolls will soon sag out, too, if you look close… so eventually she's going to look like trashy Barbie on Henry Rollins' neck covered by a big, soft fleshy sock…
He he!
That's what I get for checking into Google news all day — you never know what's going to catch your attention. Could be a literal train derailment across the world, or a virtual one across the country!
I need these things to keep me entertained and informed. Sad but true. But hey, I'm journalist through and through, no matter what industry I may currently be whoring myself out for.
Which is why it shouldn't come as a shock, thought it does at least to me, that I'll be checking out Columbia School of Journalism's PhD program next month. Granted, the odds of me getting in are about the same as the odds of me marrying the prince of Denmark, (once he ditches that awful Australian, that is!) but hey, stranger things have happened.
And, I've got to be building up good karma by getting on the train by 6–bloody–a.m. on a Saturday to get to Man–effing–hattan on time, right?!?!?
Plus, if I don't like what I see, I can always move to Denmark…
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