This week.

Really?
I began Sunday by stepping barefoot onto a hot curling iron. Cool. Sad for the left foot.
Then, Monday, I started developing a cold from outer space. Sad for the rest of the body. Only my right foot was unscathed.
Until...um...bug bite? Between my toes? I can't even begin to imagine how a person who has been constantly socked and shoed for the past nine months could acquire such an affliction, but happened it has. Now my right foot has joined the fray.

My entire body is revolting against my schedule...demanding that I rest. Yeah? At least, that's what my DVR is saying.

I'm just not that into you

I don't dig this type of dude and I wish Perez Hilton and other gay men would stop trying to convince me that I'm into it.



I don't get it. First off, Channing Tatum is not a name. It's a disease or a lump or something a doctor needs to take care of. It's as if two surnames hooked up and had a kid. Not a fan. (Don't get me started on Leighton Meester).
Secondly, I can't ever remember what this dude looks like. I see his name underneath a photo of him and make the connection, but then forget his face five seconds later. Other than his abs, what is special? What?


Explain. I'm so confused.