Wednesday, June 18, 2008

i know St. Peter will call my name

I saw a piece on the news for facials containing Nightingale droppings. $180 for a bird poop facial. Have we completely lost our minds in this country? I’m firmly convinced that you could convince people to put vomit on their faces IF you touted the benefits of tighter skin, and charged a high enough price.

I had to take my boss to the doctor’s office this morning and didn’t they have that damn tv turned to Martha Stewart. Grrrrrrrrrr…I can only take so much of her
t shirt making, candle dipping, basket weaving ass before I totally want to choke her. So I waited till the waiting room cleared out and despite the “please do not change the channel” sign on the tv, I changed the channel. But not before the nurse walked in…right as my finger was an inch from the button. She said, “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t change the channel,” and she pointed to the sign. I said, “What’s the deal? You leave the tv on Martha Stewart so women will become seriously depressed and demand prescriptions to happy pills?"


The Lysol commercial where the chick wipes down the kitchen appliances with a chicken leg never fails to GROSS ME OUT.

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