People magazine names Matt Damon the Sexiest Man Alive. That is until next year. Thanks to this publication for making my creepy dream not so creepy anymore. Though like I predicted, the tingly feelings from the dream have subsided and I'm able to think of him without blushing like a school girl.
Though I did have a dream about John Krasinski last night. I won't go into details, but let's say it involved me, him, a shower, and a backpack. Oh yeah, that's right. I'll let you fill in the blanks. That's what she said.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Where's My Burrito! Where's My Burrito!
I suppose that's the extent of my participation in the writer's strike. But then again, am I crossing a picket line by writing something for entertainment purposes? What if because of this strike I'm recruited to write some hilarious original material and paid millions of dollars? Will I be shunned by highly respected members of the WGA?
Well, if my some amazing course of events, I get the million dollar deal, I'm set for life, so screw the shun. I'd be more concerned about my Dad finding out I crossed a picket like. Oh, he'll do the "You're an adult. I can't tell you what to do." thing. But it's in his eyes. His Democrat, union boss, Catholic eyes.
But I digress. I haven't developed a full opinion about this strike. I bet by the time I form one, the issue will be resolved. All I care about is how this whole ordeal affects me. I have two directions in this matter. My original programming has been taken from me. I now have to suffer more reality TV. Booooo!
Then again, now the opportunity to catch up on excellent shows I didn't watch during their original airings. Or even better, now I get get off my duff and lose that extra twenty or so pounds. Mmmmmm, Duff. I guess I'll just pop in some reruns of The Simpsons until this matter gets resolved. I'll start with that episode with Last Exit to Springfield. It's only appropriate.
Well, if my some amazing course of events, I get the million dollar deal, I'm set for life, so screw the shun. I'd be more concerned about my Dad finding out I crossed a picket like. Oh, he'll do the "You're an adult. I can't tell you what to do." thing. But it's in his eyes. His Democrat, union boss, Catholic eyes.
But I digress. I haven't developed a full opinion about this strike. I bet by the time I form one, the issue will be resolved. All I care about is how this whole ordeal affects me. I have two directions in this matter. My original programming has been taken from me. I now have to suffer more reality TV. Booooo!
Then again, now the opportunity to catch up on excellent shows I didn't watch during their original airings. Or even better, now I get get off my duff and lose that extra twenty or so pounds. Mmmmmm, Duff. I guess I'll just pop in some reruns of The Simpsons until this matter gets resolved. I'll start with that episode with Last Exit to Springfield. It's only appropriate.
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