Well, five minutes ago, my brain was filled with blogging ideas. Not so much now. Sated and happy after another Sunday night of good food and good friends. Lying in bed with methane factory disguised as toy poodle -- she ate all of Connor's food yesterday and just hasn't been the same since. She's a cute little stink bomb. Laughing at Role Models movie -- funnier than expected. They created the mythical country of Kiss My Anthea. Where do I sign up?
Oh, I just remembered. Who caught the Grammys? Is it me, or was that some messed up shit? You've got Pink splash spinning in an ice skating mesh suit above the stage ala Cirque du Soleil; Mary J Blige creating some seriously atonal dissonance with Andrea Bocceli (extra hard to watch -- how does that even happen, and who thought this was a good idea? He must not have seen the rehearsal. If there was one.), and; M&M and some guy with his pants down his thighs who "sang" some rap song I didn't hear, because the network had to BLEEP half the song, because the lyrics were that nasty. It was just who's more freaky than the last performer. But if you want something to talk about on Monday, the Grammys'll do it.
I'm sure I'm huge, but don't care. Will work out this week.
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