Tales from La La Land

Blog-neglect happens to everyone. And this is totally not going to be a post about how I’ve been neglecting the blog.

However, I figured I should put something up to bury that stupid Office Max Blog. You know, the one where I thought I was soooo creative with the headline? Sometimes I think I’m super funny and/or witty only to find out years (and, sometimes days) later that I was, in actuality, a giant tool.

So, anyway, since I last wrote that post, not much has happened. I thought about writing a post chronicling the shower dialogue between Laef and I, but I figured it’d make people super gaggy. But, we can not be the only ones who draw hearts with random hair on the shower wall.

Or can we?

Laef took it to a new level last week,  stringing together many of his fallin’ brethren to draw an entire face with a giant smile (not a good sign for the top of Laef’s head.) Then this morning I got in the shower and noticed that Laef had gone even further. He drew a penis. With balls. And pubes.

All I can tell you is this: When it’s 6:30 a.m., and you are fucking pissed off at your alarm clock and the cat who meows from 6 a.m.-6:30 a.m., NOTHING will make your morning more than seeing a giant penis drawn with hair on the shower wall. I cracked up. I can’t remember the last time I laughed at 6:30 a.m. on a work day.

The pressure is now on me to draw something for Laef’s enjoyment.

I guess I don’t care if you get gaggy or not. At least I didn’t include pictures of the hearts or the “Hi!” or the .

Then I thought writing a post about marathon training, and how I am on the home stretch in a sense. However, I don’t want to jinx it. I have one long run left – 19 miles this weekend – and can then begin to taper a bit. Next weekend, my long run will be 8 miles, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but: 8 miles at this stage is a cakewalk*.  The marathon is 2 weeks from Sunday. UNREAL. Can’t wait. There’s not much more to blog about the training – it’s kind of shitty, and if not for the help of some great friends (Angie, Erin), it would have been a lot worse. It’s draining physically and mentally, but I know the payoff is going to be WELL worth it. So, I am very excited for race day.

Other than that, there’s not much to tell. Laef is completely dialed into the Cardinals baseball season, so I just sit back and watch him swear at the TV or look doey-eyed at Albert Pujols every time is up to bat. I am completely dialed into the Real Housewives of New York City so Laef sits back and yells obscenities to me while pretending not to watch (he actually asked me yesterday if Jill and Bettheny were friends yet).

TGIF!

*Please don’t let me eat shit or get hurt on this run because I called it easy. Please.

I love award season. Love the dresses, the hair, the gossip, the underdog winners and the awkward Red Carpet Encounters.

That Busey/Garner mashup was priceless. Let’s be honest though, Ryan threw Jen to the shark. Busey was seemingly content to congratulate Laura Linney when Seacrest insisted on introducing him to Jen.

Ah, Oscar season. Love. It.

Last year I spent my evening live blogging the red carpet activities at The Cooler and will be doing the same this year. I learned quite a bit about the pace of live blogging last year, so hopefully it will be more relaxed and fun this time around.

I can tell you in advance that I’m a Sandra Bullock, Carey Mulligan, Meryl Streep,Vera Farmiga, Maggie Gyllenhaal kind of girl. The “young” Hollywood presenters – Cyrus, Efron, Lautner – bring the snark from me BIG TIME. Although she’s part of the Twilight saga, I’m a big Anna Kendrick fan. She was great in Up In The Air, and doesn’t bring the skank the way Miley does.

So, what this probably means is that I’m old as fuck. I don’t get what the kids love. I don’t understand what the F it is about Robert Pattinson or Taylor Lautner. I have started to accept that the actresses I love are of the older kind, and that I had a bigger desire to see “It’s Complicated” than the Jonas Brothers in 3D.

I wish I could say that I’ve seen all the movies that are up for awards this year. Sadly, I haven’t. Laef has seen more of the best picture nominees than I have, so he probably has a better opinion on the frontrunners. This is a major problem for me – staying awake for movies when I’m on my couch. I missed Inglorious Basterds, The Hurt Locker and Disctict 9 despite them playing right in front of my (sleeping) eyes.

Laef did however drag me to Avatar, which I did not like. Yes, I respect the feat. Yes, it was pretty. Yes, I had a headache when I left. In turn, Laef went to see Up In The Air with me. I loved it. As much as I love Sandy, I can’t explain why I haven’t seen the Blind Side. Also, for some reason Laef bought me the book, Push, for Valentine’s Day. This is the book that Precious is based. Not the most lovey-dovey Valentine’s book, but at least I have an idea of what the movie is about despite not having seen it yet. Tragic, I know.

My old ass will simply sip Vodka and comment on the dresses and awkward Red Carpet conversations caused by one glass too many of champagne in the limo ride to the Kodak Theater.

Speaking of old asses, is it me or is Idol shit this year? Yes, I know that we’re only in week 2 of the real competition, and the contestants will get better as the lessons and styling increase, but thus far, I am lulled to sleep by most of their faces. Never thought I’d be a fan of someone with jacked hair, but I really like Alex Lambert’s voice. I also like Lee Dewyze. Mostly because last night it looked like he told the Idol styling team to fuck off. He wore jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes Idol makes these people look so packaged. One after another, dressed for the big time, but completely unsure of how to own the moment. It’s all a bit awkard.

As for the girls, no one stands out for me. Maybe after tonight one or two will separate themselves.

Speaking of the girls. It’s a rough fit for Ellen. And, I love me some Ellen. She is funny. But, there’s nowhere for her to be funny in this setting. And she doesn’t know anything about music. So there’s no valid point to her being there. Which I find sad because I want her to work. Especially this season when I’d rather be watching Uncle Buck.

I needed to post something without McFrosty’s photo so people don’t think I’m a crazy stalker. You should all know me by now in that the whole thing was a funny joke and something to spice up the blog. I’m not, like, searching for photos and stats of him on the web.

Heather has suggested a blog contest entitled, Win A Date With Coach Frost. As soon as McFrosty gets back to me as to whether he’s on board and that Oregon will pay for the airfare, maybe we’ll try it. Hopefully he’s into pregnant chicks and sarcastic dudes.

Also, I have some things on my mind that I need to address.

MY SHOWS

1. Nip/Tuck: If anyone actually believes that Christian’s peen could turn a lesbian straight, they should be shot. On the flip side, if anyone actually believes that Christian could be in love with, and sleep with (on a regular, monogamous basis) Liz, they should also be shot. This is the most ridiculous development yet. And, lastly, I think F/X must have made huge budget cuts. So far, there has been no sight of Kimber, hardly any glimpses of Matt, they killed off Julia’s lover and there are virtually no patient storylines. It’s essentially a three-ring circus between Christian, Sean and Liz (and sometimes Julia, who better fucking eat a hamburger STAT because she looks like a skeleton with eyes).

2. Real Housewives of Orange County: OK, the last episode was utterly depressing AND boring. As much as Tamra annoys the hell out of me, or how much I can’t stand Vicki, or how bad Jeana’s Xanax coma is, the show is much better when all the girls are wreaking havoc and causing drama. TOGETHER. Watching Gretchen do pilates and Lynne’s daughter wash her hairball down with vodka and Vicki diss Donn (yet again) is so boring. Then, on top of that, Jeana’s son, Shane WAS SO MEAN TO HER that I wanted to turn off the TV. It made me so sad and it was so hard to watch. Hopefully next week one of them throws a party and gets naked wasted. That’s where it’s at.

3. Grey’s Anatomy: I’m giving this shit one more week. And, only because apparently Denny really is dead. Or something. This show is making me dizzy this season. One week I heart. The next week I loathe. And so on. Little Grey and McSteamy with their broken penis thing and whatever. Gah. That relationship is totally unrealistic. Although, thanks to that episode I got to hear a great explanation from Laef as to how you could actually break your penis. He then told me to try it.

I can’t get into the rest of my shows because the blog would be too long.

Moving on.

SAVE THE DATES
Annett Malone should start a business. I have gotten a lot of compliments on the STDs. From the people that actually received them. It should be noted that we have decided to do a tiny wedding in an effort to save what little savings we have for our future. We essentially kept it to immediate family and a few friends. Which makes us kind of sad, but it was simply becoming something we couldn’t exactly afford. Anyway, you would think that sending out far less STDs would be easy for me (insert nasty skank Aross joke here). No. So far I have realized that I sent one to the wrong address and a few have been returned to me for various reasons. That’s just how I have to roll, I guess. I will say that I’m proud of myself in that I made labels and all of that. But, apparently I still fucked some shit up. Resends go out this weekend.

IMPORTANT NEWS
I read in The Week that a new version of The Joy of Sex just came out. But, it does not include the section about sex on moving motorcycles or horseback. Um. OK. If you have ever done either, please email me immediately. I feel like if texting while driving is illegal, this should be included, but I’m kind of prude like that.

Like many people, I didn’t even bother to make bullshit resolutions like “watch less TV” or “eat less Cup O Noodles and Hot Pockets” or “drink less”.

Because the truth is, none of these are what some would call, “guilty pleasures”. (However, the use of so many ” ” in one post is a guilty pleasure because I do feel dirty about it).

I don’t feel guilty for watching The Real Housewives of Orange County or The L Word or Gossip Girl. And I have never felt anything but joy from a Hot Pocket.

So, not only did I not vow to watch less television, I somehow seemed to have picked up a couple of new shows to start off the New Year. We had a little bit of a problem last night as the Fiesta Bowl was still going (and was a close game until the end), but I had Gossip Girl and The Bachelor recording, meaning we were about to be kicked off. This doesn’t bode well for trying to hide the fact that I was going to add The Bachelor to my repertoire.

Laef: “You don’t even watch The Bachelor!”
Me: “I know. But, your sister said…”
Laef: “I will kill her.”

And so it began. The Bachelor was a two-hour premier. And, it was rough. Between the anorexic’s vision board and the lunatic who QUIT HER JOB to be on the show, I was very concerned at how I was going to keep Laef occupied.

Although this is now a porn site, I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that I watched a lot of crap last night with very little hassle.

I finally made it through the two-hour premier and as I was getting ready to flip over to Gossip Girl, I see the intro for something called True Beauty. I was only going to watch the first segment and then flip. And, I don’t know what happened. It was like heroin. I just kept coming back for more after each commercial break. Besides, most shows just dim the light on the photo of the eliminated contestant. Not True Beauty. They straight throw that shit in a dumpster.

And, one other thing. The winner gets a photo in Peoples 100 Most Beautiful People? Isn’t it 50? They had to add 50 more to include one of these douche bags.

By the time that was over, it was past 11 p.m. This is way best my bed time on a school night, but Gossip Girl was still looming. So, I watched it.

I felt somewhat dumber when I woke up this morning. I felt like I went on a binge of epic proportions. I’m not making any promises, but I really need to cut True Beauty out. I can’t be up until midnight every Monday. Can I?

Holler Friday, Bitches!

I’m totally going to steal a recent blog format from my girl Brittany and do a little list. Lately, I’ve been neglecting the blog because there seems to be too much going on with the holidays. For example, the other day I was IMing and texting five different people at one time to discuss New Year’s Eve plans, while also shopping online for my future family-in-law, while simultaneously helping stressed out grad students print their 800-page theses two minutes before they had to present them.

I’m sure during the winter break I will acquire lots of great ideas, and, as Ben suggested, maybe even live-blog with him on New Years Eve (assuming I don’t pass out at 8:30 p.m.).

The list is perfect because there have been things on my mind to blog about, but none of them inspire me enough to dedicate an entire post.

1. I have grown accustomed to LA traffic. I finally decided that if it’s sunny in November, I will no longer complain about how long it takes to get to and from work. HOWEVER, this particular phenomenon has overcome me lately. See, I prefer to leave a car length (OK, maybe half a car length) between myself and whatever Lexus SUV with eight Obama stickers is in front of me. Apparently, this is code for BMW SUV to think, “Hey! Room for me! I’m squeezing in!” NO, you fuckbag! There is not room for you. I’m slowly starting to come to grips with the fact that, in LA, there is never space between you and any cars and people will actually speed up to NOT let you in and by the time you get home, you are ready to kill a kitten (not Sanch, but maybe someone else’s).

2. Top Chef. Is anyone watching this? To me, it’s a little down this year. Maybe it will pick up, but I’m not feeling that the talent is as high as it used to be. There are only a couple of chefs that seem like they know what they’re doing. Then there’s this guy, who thinks he’s good, but is always so flustered and worried about hair. Plus, he works at the Dilido Beach Club. Dude. I don’t care what you say, you work at the Dildo Club. Period. Of course, I’m a sucker and like Fabio. I might have to fight Padma though, because she’s always giggling around him like a school girl.

3. I won’t even start on Laurie’s lips on Real Housewives of Orange County or how Vicki is a complete whack job because I’m pretty sure all of two readers of this blog watch that show.

4. After a demoralizing 68 age score on the Wii, I recently scored a 24. That’s more like it.

5. Half-marathon training is kicking ass. I can’t believe I’m actually doing it. My sister got me new running shoes and I swear Nike has steroids running through its laces. Or they were just a nice upgrade from the pair that I had been wearing for four years and made my knees feel 80. I did my longest run of the training – a five-miler that took me through Manhattan Beach, Hermosa Beach and into Redondo Beach. I felt kinda cool. Until mile five. When I could no longer feel my legs. Alas, Dave Matthews pulled me through. Heart!

TGIF!!

UPDATE: I can’t believe I forgot to mention the totally fucking annoying Denny/Izzy bullshit on Grey’s. I can not wrap my head around this, nor do I want to. Ick. Dumb. Hates it. And, I also hated the wind/vent/kiss thing.

Well, I told you how my weekend started. It should have been a clue as to how the rest of the weekend would go.

We didn’t go out on Friday night because we were planning to spend Saturday at a bar watching football. So, we watched The Shining because as Laef pointed out, “I’ve never seen it. What was it like to be alive in 1980?”

Must be nice to be 26.

On Saturday, our normal bar for watching Duck games was not able to get the game on satellite. Which meant our only option was to watch the game on our computer through goducks.com. And, full-screen was not an option, so the three of us huddled around the computer for four hours.

Seeing as the Duckies were playing Utah State, I was bored within four minutes. But, at least we got to watch.

On Sunday, before I could even finish my coffee, Tom Brady went down with what appears to be a season-ending injury. This is a lovely bit of news considering he was my number 1 pick on my fantasy team. Yes, I do fantasy, please don’t write in and tell me I’m a nerd or a lesbian or a douche. I already know those things to be true. I do it because it’s always fun to beat boys at stuff they’re supposed to be better at. My brother had already told me that I had the worst team in the league, but Tom Brady was definitely the one thing I had going for me.

Luckily, I was playing Tim Malone’s team. Tim’s starting quarterback is Carson Palmer. Let me tell you how good Tom Brady is. Or rather, how shitty Carson Palmer is. Brady played for less than a quarter. He got me 3 points. Palmer played the entire game. He got Tim 2 points. So, I’m thinking of starting Brady again next week because he’ll probably be cuddling with Gisele in a swanky Greenwich Village loft, and in my book that’s worth at least 78 fantasy points.

After spending the afternoon at the beach and contemplating whether or not Reggie Bush can carry me this season, we headed home so that I could indulge myself in the MTV Video Music Awards. Luckily, Laef was playing some computer game where you make a cat purr. Yes, that’s what I said. I didn’t ask questions, because the longer he obsesses, the longer I get to watch without getting yelled at. Somehow it’s my fault that Lil’ Wayne wears his pants around his knees. Or that Britney Spears won three awards because MTV was proud of her for being able to sit through the show for four hours without eating a Cheeto.

I don’t know what happened, but the show was a trainwreck. I guess they wanted to follow the common theme of young Hollywood. There were so many awkward moments. Everyone seemed nervous, unsure of their lines, where the steps on the stage were and which camera to look into.

Another disappointment and four hours of my life I can never get back.

We did end things on a high note, indulging in some delicious grilled chicken and pesto pasta. I made the pesto from scratch with basil, pine nuts, garlic, olive oil and Parmesan cheese. Because it was my first time making this, it was kind of a hassle. There are a lot of elements — grilling chicken, cooking pasta and making the sauce, but if you’ve got time on a Sunday, it’s well worth it. Plus, anything with two cups of Parmesan cheese and 3/4 cup half ‘n half can’t miss. Not sure how this made it into Cooking Light, but who cares?

Courtesy of Cooking Light:

Ingredients

* 1 3/4 pounds skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
* 1 teaspoon salt, divided
* 3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, divided
* Cooking spray
* 20 ounces uncooked farfalle (bow tie pasta)
* 1 tablespoon butter
* 3 garlic cloves, minced
* 1 1/2 cups 1% low-fat milk, divided
* 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
* 1 (3.5-ounce) jar commercial pesto (about 1/3 cup)
* 3/4 cup half-and-half
* 2 cups (8 ounces) shredded fresh Parmesan cheese, divided
* 4 cups halved grape tomatoes (about 2 pints)
* 1/2 cup chopped fresh basil

Preparation

1. Prepare grill to medium-high heat.

2. Sprinkle chicken evenly with 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Place chicken on grill rack coated with cooking spray; grill 10 minutes or until done, turning after 6 minutes. Remove from grill; let stand 5 minutes. Cut chicken into 1/2-inch pieces; keep warm.

3. Cook pasta according to package directions, omitting salt and fat. Drain in colander over a bowl, reserving 1/4 cup cooking liquid. Place pasta in large bowl.

4. Heat butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic to pan; cook 1 minute, stirring occasionally. Combine 1/2 cup milk and flour in a small bowl, stirring with a whisk. Add milk mixture to pan, stirring constantly with a whisk. Stir in pesto. Gradually add remaining 1 cup milk and half-and-half, stirring constantly with a whisk. Cook 8 minutes or until sauce thickens, stirring frequently. Add 1/4 cup reserved cooking liquid, remaining 3/4 teaspoon salt, remaining 1/2 teaspoon pepper, and 1 cup cheese; stir until cheese melts.

5. Add chicken and sauce to pasta, tossing well to coat. Add tomatoes and basil; toss gently. Sprinkle with remaining 1 cup cheese. Serve immediately.

So, here I am four hours after arriving home from work. Still watching the MLB All-Star game. It’s now the 15th inning. Right now, I’m pulling for a Dan Uggla home run because that would give it the girly ending I’ve been waiting for. Poor schmuck has three errors, two strike outs (one looking), but homers to save the day.

Make that three strike outs.

And the saga continues.

I was totally the good fiance when I came home. “Yes, baby. Watch the game. I’m going to make dinner and do stuff.”

Dang. If only I had known this was going to be a historical game.

I finally made a vodka/soda water. Because the thing is, I really enjoy baseball. At the stadium. Where there’s beer. And people. And cool up-to-bat songs. And Rob Moseley screaming “Alllllllbert Pooooooooojols” to Brad Lidge. And Benji biting his tongue at annoying Dodger fans (or wearing birthday tiara).

But here I am on the couch laughing that the fans voted Evan Longoria as the online all-star. Come on. He’s got to know that he only made it because his name is basically Eva Longoria, right?

At some point they’re going to exhaust all the pitchers. Which is why next year Rick Ankiel should be a no-brainer. Keep him in the outfield until the 22nd inning and then super sneak him in as a pitcher when the other team (league, whatever) has exhausted all options. OK, as someone pointed out, he might walk four straight and lose the game. But, I bet he threw at least two out from the center field wall!

Anyway, the only people in this “stadium” are Laef and I. The long drawn out game has prompted some boring conversation.

Laef: “I see we are not shaving our legs.”
Me: “What?! Why are you even noticing this? I shave on Saturday’s before the beach.”
Laef: “What if I didn’t shave my face?”
Me: “I like it. I think it’s sexy. I mean after the first few days of roughness. Give my legs two more days and they’ll be soft.”

OK. Back to the game. Brad Lidge just came into the game. Rob just texted: Ballgame.

He really loves taunting him some Brad Lidge.

Andddddd….base hit.

So…I’m simply saying that four hours of baseball equals at least eight 1/2 hour episodes of whatever trash I see fit. Sans eye rolling. Because I am now getting into this.

Holy Crap!! Ryan Ludwig (a Cardinal, FYI) just made a stellar catch in the outfield. Ass hole. Way to extend the game.

Oh wait. Another base it. Two on. One out. I don’t want to think it, but were they keeping Brad Lidge alone in the bullpen because they knew…you know…he’s just kind of…SUSPECT?

It’s now 1:33 a.m. in the morning EST. The announcers have nothing better to say than the time. And Ken Rosenthal is bragging that he gets text messages.

Holy crap!! Lidge walks the bases loaded. Michael Young pops up to the outfied and Morneau tags up at home….SAFE. All I can say is…If Ankiel was in the outfield (in that position), that dude is out.

Anyway, it’s over. Laef is sad. NL didn’t get home field advantage.

Time to hit the TiVO!

The “story of us” is still on hold.

The good news is that there’s a Denise Richards marathon on and I’m also going to sneak in a viewing of August Rush. These are things that could only occur when Laef is in his current state!

…Is voting for Living Lohan?

Fine. I guess I’m going to have to give this up. But, if the Lohan’s go, WoW goes.

People often talk about guilty pleasures and like to ask “What is your guilty pleasure?” A lot of times people mention a TV show that they know they shouldn’t be watching or Hot Pockets or Vodka at noon. You know, things that one inevitably feels guilty about 10 minutes after it’s over.

I believe Laef’s guilty pleasure is WoW. I will admit that he doesn’t play for 15 hours a day or anything like that. But, if I am watching, say, Denise Richards: It’s Complicated, for example, he has a free pass to play WoW and I don’t say a word. However, he almost always asks at the end of the night if it’s OK or if I’m upset. Probably because he feels guilty.

We should both be feeling guilty for not playing Scrabble or watching Planet Earth or engaging in books and conversation. Playing WoW and watching Denise Richards explain to her 13-year old nephew that she did Playboy “because she had a baby and wanted to show that she was still sexy” is hardly going to make for a good marriage. But, both make us so happy!

So, I’ve been thinking about my guilty pleasure shows, and, holy fuck, there are a lot of them. However, I do not consider Top Chef, Weeds or Jon & Kate Plus 8 guilty shows. They aren’t complete trash.

The following shows, however, are trash. And, I love them all!

Sunday Night:
Denis Richards: It’s Complicated: First of all, she is gorgeous. A little white-trashy, yes. But still really pretty. Despite the fact that she wants to show her motherly side and that she’s not the skank everyone thinks she is, she mentions Wild Things on almost every episode, has called a writer a C U Next Tuesday (I can’t even write that word), signs a Playboy for her 13-year old nephew, dances on a stripper pole in her basement and considers posing nude again. Bottom line: What’s not to like? It’s so interesting to watch her try to portray some new image. But, look, she has pigs.

Living Lohan: This is the show that forces Laef into a WoW binge complete with headphones. I can’t say anything good about it or even begin to defend watching it. Dina Sluthan has got to be the worst mother on the planet. I know her goal was to “set the record straight” and she has succeeded. She has set the record straight that she wants to be in the spotlight more than her kids, leaves them home alone while partying in New York, takes them to Vegas to help her younger daughter make a record (which means that her youngest son has to go, miss soccer, miss school and sit on his ass in a hotel room…yeah, he won’t be a fucked up drug addict in two years), considers reading tabloids all day her job and is more of a friend to her kids than a parent. It’s so hard to watch because you see how fucked up all of them are, but again, I still watch it. Seriously, how high is Dina Lohan at all times?

The Next Food Network Star: This isn’t on the same level as the previous two (what would I do without TiVo!), but it’s also not quite at the level of Top Chef. To be honest, after just coming off a season of Top Chef, NFNS, comes off as very sloppy and the food seems below average. But, I watch because I like cooking and I like food. It’s been an awkward ride so far though because none of the competitors seem all that comfortable in front of the camera and most of them really can’t cook all that well. So, I feel nervous for everyone the entire time I am watching. Especially when they serve eggs that look like this:

Thursday

The Real World: What can I even say. This is out of habit. I’ve been watching this show since 1992 so why stop now? The concept back then was to have educated young people who were trying to break into various industries — music, acting, dancing, writing, etc. — live together in New York and try to follow these dreams. Let’s just say that the show ventured way off track over the next 12 years. This season, however, they’ve got a house full of alcoholics living in Hollywood, all of whom are trying to make it in modeling, acting, singing, hosting, etc. So, in a sense, they’ve gone back to the roots of the show. However, one of the girls is a stripper and one was a coke head who went to rehab in the first month. I guess drunk psychos trying to make it in the industry is better than college graduates trying to make it. Total misfits.

Real Housewives of New York City/Orange County: These two are on hiatus. They are so bad that they’re good. This is another one that I can not justify. These people have the most fucked up priorities it will make you throw up.

So there you have it. This way it doesn’t seem like I only make fun of Laef and his guilty pleasures. I have horrible ones also. What are yours?