Fri 21 Nov 2008
Never mind the crippling economic meltdown that is gripping North America; what about the crippling writer’s block that is gripping this blogger? Seriously, I’m tapped. Perhaps our loyal commenters could oblige?
You can understand why the police are confused. After all these years of beating up Irish people, all of a sudden they’re supposed to stop kids from kicking the gingers? Next the bleeding hearts will want them to stop profiling.
Here’s my guess: The divorce judge ruled that by marrying Madonna, Guy Ritchie demonstrated that he did not have the requisite mental capacity to warrant sole custody of the children he shares with Madonna.
Finally! A legitimate reason to Google for “Stinky Juice Box” at work.
Aisle or window seat, ma’am? Both please.
Devil Spawn, Thy Name is Bronx Mowgli Wentz. It must be disheartening to grow up with the nagging suspicion that your parents are talentless idiots. Also, being called Bronx Mowgli Wentz would probably suck as well.
I just love the fact that in this day and age it is still possible to open a business called Steak’N'Shake. In my opinion, the ‘N’ is still vastly underused in restaurant monickers.
I smell a sitcom!