I'm in a bit of a confessional mood for some reason so I'll admit to two things:
1.) I just wasted 108 minutes of my pathetic life watching "Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason," the highly unanticipated sequel to "Bridget Jones: Oh Knackers, Which Bloke Shall I Shag?!" I didn't hate it because it was a "chick flick" and I didn't hate it because Renee Zellweger has that bizarre face that looks like a wind-burned, puckery anus -- I hated it because it sucked. What the shit was that?! I literally crapped out a better plot line this morning in my fancy new bathroom -- turd leaves asshole, turd meets toilet water, turd and toilet water get hitched and zip off for a honeymoon cruise in Lake Michigan. And I will never have those 108 minutes back. I blame Mr. Darcy.
B.) Holy crap, I can't get that goddamn new Christina Aguilera song out of my brain. I know, it goes against everything I've stood for musically in my entire lifetime, but that Chica Loca can canta con mucha fuerza y mi cerebro es en fuego con sus ritmos chiflados!!! Ay caramba!
And speaking of bathtime, when I went in to wash Miss O's hair tonight, the whole tub area smelled like a giant fart. I said...
ME: Miss O?! Did you just blow one?
MISS O: No!
MISS O: No, wait. Yes.
ME: That's the stinkiest fart I think I've ever smelled!
MISS O: Boys farts are stinkier than girls farts, you know.
ME: That's not true -- boys farts and girls farts smell just the same.
MISS O (thoughfully): Dog farts smell the worst of all.
ME: You said a mouthful.