My Cousin Looks Like Marcia Gay Harden.
Marcia Gay Harden:
Now, all I need is for the Marcia Gay Harden dog to, like, live next door.
If you were looking for enema videos and were directed here from righthealth.com, you are not in the right place. Yes, I'm talking to you, anonymous visitor from Plano, Texas
Last night, after having way too much fun submitting questions to the Ask Ro section of Rosie O'Donnell's blog (i.e., from Olivia in New York: I'm a pussy. Will you pet me?), I ended up on the Drudge Report staring at a screen capture of a fairly explicit literary sex scene. The kicker? It was from a book written by Virginia Senatorial Candidate Jim Webb. Apparently George Allen's campaign decided to release snippets of some of the more racy material in Jim Webb's books a few weeks before Election Day, along with a scathing press release that I have linked to in full.
He saw the invitation with every bouncing breast and curved hip. . . . He was thirteen. . . . She was fifteen . . . . In a few moments she drew him to her and he murmured in his quiet voice, 'I am still small.' 'You are large enough,' she answered. And he found he was.
Not to hate on Celine Dion or anything, but it's time to make another pointless list about a cinematic aspect that doesn't get the attention it should - accents. There have been some absolutely mesmerizing accents and some putrid verbal molestations, but we're going to cover as many candidates representing both sides as we can think of before I need to get back on Brando and pedal home in polar cap-esque weather.
Before I completely run out of acronyms slash ditzy aphorisms, it's time to remind our loyal reader population that this Saturday is the 5th Annual We Still Believe You, Winona Movie Marathon. In accordance with the coming holiday, we have belatedly introduced a Halloween quality to this shindig. It is strongly recommended that participants dress, or at least embody the soul, of a character or symbol from a Winona movie. I will be going as Brittany Murphy's character in Girl, Interrupted. Which will consist of me wearing a noose around my neck with slit wrists and gnawing on chicken. And hopefully getting the opportunity to scream, "Get that out of my face, ASShole!" at least 10 times throughout the course of the evening.
I hurried into the kitchen. I filled a bowl with water and a plate with some of Boo-Boo's cat food. I did not bother asking Boo-Boo first. Since he was such a mean old cat, he probably would not want to share.
I raced back to the toolshed. On the way, I tripped over a rock and spilled everything. Boo. I had to pick up all the food, then go back and fill the bowl with water again.
I hoped the cat would not have her kittens before I got back to the shed.
She didn't. I was starting to feel really lucky. It had started out a boring Saturday. But it was not boring anymore. And I had wanted a cat or a kitten. Now I was going to have some!