Here are some words I could use to describe Thursday evening for me, without actually telling any stories:
Whiskey sours
Beer
Ultimate Fighting
Beer splash
punch
karaoke
numbers
wallet
church
field
mud
fight
drunk
3 am
car
bar
urination
Make what conclusions you want. But it was one fun ass night. And, I did not wet myself, so don't draw that conclusion...unless you have a jumping to conclusions mat. But even so, I did not wet myself. I have yet to become one of those peeing drunks. Well, I pee a lot when I drink, but never any place weird other than the outdoors.
So first, some exciting news. I passed the 2,000 hit mark on my blog according to myspace. Mind you, this probably consists of Trevor looking at it everyday to try and figure out how to be so witty, eloquent, educated, manly....and pure tasty. So that is good. Also, there is a search function on myspace for the blogs, and....hold on to your pants...if you search for "cous-cous" there are five pages of blogs listed and none other than yours truly appears on page 4. So basically I am a bonafide celebrity...I have yet to let the fame go to my head too much aside from yelling at people I don't know, like bartenders "Don't you know who I am?" (all the while banging my hand on the bar)....Actually last night I did order a pitcher of beer and then motion at the foam, as if to say "Are you serious, what do I look like? Some sort of foam imbibing creature?" Of course with the celeb status I have...the bartender responded to my actions by saying "Six dollars." Which I know that meant something more like...."I know your game, you brilliant blogging machine...you are a real Jessica Joffey of the Chicago area. And I know if I mention this I won't be blogged about, but if I just say something like the price of the pitcher you will mention it."
I would like to apologize to some advertisements/advertisers. Your commercials are funny, memorable, even at times worthy of turning up the volume too and kindly requesting everyone in the room to "Shut the fuck up"....but last I checked the point of an advertisement is to SELL a product, not merely to entertain people. If an ad entertains someone, and they in turn buy the product, then boom, good work. But, this is not the case, at least not from this consumer.
Commercial example #1- The Sierra Mist commercials: These are slightly funny, feature funny people, and even sometimes funny situations. BUT Sprite still kicks ass in market share, and you know why? No one is ever in the soft drink aisle pondering, "Which is the one that might get confiscated by airport security as was shown to me by Tracy Morgan? I want THAT one" or "Which one is the one that is 'that refreshing'? I need that one, because other non-cola carbonated lemon-lime beverages have been unfulfilling as of late."
Commercial example #2- The Skittles Beard Commercial- This is a HILARIOUS commercial. But, the whole idea of a creepy man who can use his beard as an appendage, is once again not that big of a selling point for me. I would totally buy the beard, or might even think about being that man for Halloween, but as far as desiring Skittles as a cause of that, it just doesn't work.
There are many others. But as long as I am discussing advertising, why do inappropriate companies keep buying the naming rights to athletic arenas? For example, the Cleveland Cavs play at Quicken Loans Arena. The Astros used to play at Enron field, and now play at Minute Maid Park and there are many others...like the St.Louis Rams playing at Edward Jones dome. Enough. Unless....unless...there start to be some more inappropriate names, or even weirder sponsors...and if any of you companies wish to use these, just send me the check for my idea:
Tampa Bay Devil Rays- Preparation H Field
Pittsburgh Steelers- Metamucil Dome
New York Jets- Johnson Baby Oil Arena
Baltimore Orioles- O.B. Tampon Dome
San Francisco Giants-BALCO Park
You are very welcome corporate juggernauts.
And with further ado, here are the Top 10 numbers:
1) 583
2) 8.923
3)7,862,194
4)a kabillion
5) 22/7
6) 14
7) 49.7
8) 3
9) 15 hundred thousand
10) .456
Merci beaucoup. Vous n'avez rien envier a Charles Atlas.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
"You don't want those mullets parking 2,000 cars"
The above quote was uttered by Andy Smart in 2002, and your guess is as good as mine as to what it was about, but let's not miss the humor. First of all a group of people is referred to as "mullets", secondly, he seems to wish them to not be parking cars. My apologies to the mullets who read this, and to people that look like muppets.
Well, as I have been informed that last week's post lacked the necessary humor that I always bring to the counter (yes, I know the phrase is "bring to the table", but I am merely keeping it tasty...to the nth degree), and I'll admit, it was a tad unfunny, but after my editor (my left brain) and I went over it a few times, it was definitely just as absurd and slightly offensive as usual. But anywhat (yes, I know it's "anywho", but see tastiness reference above) I have decided to provide a special Monday post to discuss the humorous occurences of my real life this past weekend. They are funny enough that I might be able to weave a not so intricate cobweb and let everyone in on the general malaise of the situations. alright there was no malaise at all, except for one or two parts.
THURSDAY: Trevor had called me on Wednesday and asked me if I wanted to go out Thursday night. I, of course, responded in the affirmative. He had hoped only a handful of Vatican power brokers knew of Opus Dei's impending annulment (WRITER'S NOTE: the last sentence is a line from The DaVinci Code, by Dan Brown...I was hoping to make my musings just as exciting and popular as Dan Brown by inserting this line). Thursday, after a quick trip to the grocery store, I began cooking dinner (some exquisite salmon, cous-cous, and other stuff) and drinking 7 and 7's. Trevor arrived and began drinking low quality LTD and Cokes (the drink makes the man, or the man makes the drink or something, isn't that what they say?). Long story short, by the time Brian returned to the casa to pick us up for a trip to the bar (and upon arrival he said "Damnit you're smashed already, aren't you?"), we had become too intoxicated to even desire to leave. Sleep ended up occuring pretty early that night, and the ill effects of the previous evening were felt the next day
FRIDAY: After a lovely day at work, Trevor and I once again convened at the house, once again consuming the same spirits we had been drinking the previous day. Trevor invited over some girls and we were sitting around drinking. Brian showed up and abducted me....alright, alright, he asked me if I wanted to go to Wrigleyville and I later claimed to have been abducted (which would have sounded more convincing had I not left, and then returned to get my wallet while Brian peed). We made it down to Wrigleyville at which time many "summers of" people convened (many other people are having summers of themselves, not just the Summer of Tim is out there....but it is the main one, and sort of like the Central seat of the government). It was good times and I somehow ended up spending a decent amount of money there. All the while Trevor was calling me millions of times to find out where I was and evidently I was accused of stealing someones cell phone (well actually they thought Brian did it...racial motivation...because he's so damn white). Eventually 7 of us piled into a five person vehicle, and for a good part of the ride I was stationed in a non existent middle seat in the front....how does the biggest guy in the car end of there? seriously now. Then once we dropped some people off, I evidently, due to sheer exhaustion I am sure, "fell asleep" in the front seat of the car, even while Brian stopped to get food and do various other activities. Wowzah. Langdon nodded, feeling the first faint wists of possibility materializing (DB....plus I can't get sued for copyright infringement by this guy...he likes it).
SATURDAY: Trevor after another evening of fine couch sleeping for him, woke me up at nine AM, at which time we promptly sat around for about three hours. In the meantime the girl who had been accusing everyone of cell phone thievery returned to find it leaning against my computer monitor as she had left it. During our idle time, we decided we had finally come to a day to attempt the vaunted nine for nine. One baseball game=nine innings=nine beers=nine hot dogs....one of each per inning. So we purchased our beers, and hot dogs and set about on the task at hand. At first, due to not eating the whole day, everything was going quite smoothly....and I must say the beer, not so much of a problem. By about the fifth or sixth inning though, Trevor, Jay, and me were dreading the hot dog we had to consume and they were sitting on our plates until two outs in the bottom of the inning....I'll tell you this much none of us have futures as competitive eaters or anything like that. Actually writing about this makes me feel rather disgusted at the feat, but now we are part of an ultra-exclusive club containing the likes of Chris Farley, George Wendt, and other fat people like them who may have accidentally eaten this much at some point. The drinking then continued....7 and 7's, beer...everything. I personally did not eat for about the next 27 hours. So as we continued drinking into the evening, I went to Brian's briefly to have some beers with him and Paul. While there, a couple things happened: 1)Trevor called and asked if he could give away/eat some of my food. To which I told him no. Trevor happens to be the king of the not so secret society of mooches. He is good at it, I will give him that, but you really have to put your foot down sometimes. 2)Brian, Paul, and I were watching Ultimate Fighter, and on this show they always endorse a nutritional supplement called "Xyience" so as we are watching this (and I have been drinking for about seven hours) I inform them I am going to buy some Xyience. Only the next day do I realize I have purchased about $156 worth of these products. Brian's karma is going in the shitter for that one. So I eventually returned home. Without ever lifting his eyes, he stepped backward, out into the room's vast empty spaces (DB). At this time, around 10:30, Trevor and I were both growing very tired. At this point Brian and Paul were becoming very not tired and very ready to go to the bar. At this point I was then dragged by my leg out to my living room from my bed. It was then I discovered I also lacked the faculties to stand up. So we went to the bar, a la Jean Parmesan (arrested development reference) and stayed for about two hours. Due to some reasons for which I feel deep unrest, Brian and Paul had to step up their drinking efforts for the evening. I offer my condolences to all the friends and family members involved in that. Trevor and I finally concurred and said "Why the hell are we even here?" and left to a waiting cab out front. Upon arriving home, the cab driver requested $7...I had $6 and Trevor (which I don't even think I asked him) obviously had none. So as a sign of good faith, I gave the driver the six dollars and explained that I was leaving Trevor with him in the car as collateral. sweet move, is it not? I then went inside, got a dollar from Derek, and got a big handful of change from the good old piggybank. The driver was more than happy with this and agreed to let Trevor go. As T-Bag was falling asleep he confessed that he had eaten some of my deli ham "Three slices" he even added to show how little damage he had done.
SUNDAY:I find my ziploc bag of ham torn open with 1/4 pound remaining of the previously unblemished 1.08 pounds.
Moral of the weekend: Trevor is a glutton for meat and is not to be trusted around meat products in your home.
Well, as I have been informed that last week's post lacked the necessary humor that I always bring to the counter (yes, I know the phrase is "bring to the table", but I am merely keeping it tasty...to the nth degree), and I'll admit, it was a tad unfunny, but after my editor (my left brain) and I went over it a few times, it was definitely just as absurd and slightly offensive as usual. But anywhat (yes, I know it's "anywho", but see tastiness reference above) I have decided to provide a special Monday post to discuss the humorous occurences of my real life this past weekend. They are funny enough that I might be able to weave a not so intricate cobweb and let everyone in on the general malaise of the situations. alright there was no malaise at all, except for one or two parts.
THURSDAY: Trevor had called me on Wednesday and asked me if I wanted to go out Thursday night. I, of course, responded in the affirmative. He had hoped only a handful of Vatican power brokers knew of Opus Dei's impending annulment (WRITER'S NOTE: the last sentence is a line from The DaVinci Code, by Dan Brown...I was hoping to make my musings just as exciting and popular as Dan Brown by inserting this line). Thursday, after a quick trip to the grocery store, I began cooking dinner (some exquisite salmon, cous-cous, and other stuff) and drinking 7 and 7's. Trevor arrived and began drinking low quality LTD and Cokes (the drink makes the man, or the man makes the drink or something, isn't that what they say?). Long story short, by the time Brian returned to the casa to pick us up for a trip to the bar (and upon arrival he said "Damnit you're smashed already, aren't you?"), we had become too intoxicated to even desire to leave. Sleep ended up occuring pretty early that night, and the ill effects of the previous evening were felt the next day
FRIDAY: After a lovely day at work, Trevor and I once again convened at the house, once again consuming the same spirits we had been drinking the previous day. Trevor invited over some girls and we were sitting around drinking. Brian showed up and abducted me....alright, alright, he asked me if I wanted to go to Wrigleyville and I later claimed to have been abducted (which would have sounded more convincing had I not left, and then returned to get my wallet while Brian peed). We made it down to Wrigleyville at which time many "summers of" people convened (many other people are having summers of themselves, not just the Summer of Tim is out there....but it is the main one, and sort of like the Central seat of the government). It was good times and I somehow ended up spending a decent amount of money there. All the while Trevor was calling me millions of times to find out where I was and evidently I was accused of stealing someones cell phone (well actually they thought Brian did it...racial motivation...because he's so damn white). Eventually 7 of us piled into a five person vehicle, and for a good part of the ride I was stationed in a non existent middle seat in the front....how does the biggest guy in the car end of there? seriously now. Then once we dropped some people off, I evidently, due to sheer exhaustion I am sure, "fell asleep" in the front seat of the car, even while Brian stopped to get food and do various other activities. Wowzah. Langdon nodded, feeling the first faint wists of possibility materializing (DB....plus I can't get sued for copyright infringement by this guy...he likes it).
SATURDAY: Trevor after another evening of fine couch sleeping for him, woke me up at nine AM, at which time we promptly sat around for about three hours. In the meantime the girl who had been accusing everyone of cell phone thievery returned to find it leaning against my computer monitor as she had left it. During our idle time, we decided we had finally come to a day to attempt the vaunted nine for nine. One baseball game=nine innings=nine beers=nine hot dogs....one of each per inning. So we purchased our beers, and hot dogs and set about on the task at hand. At first, due to not eating the whole day, everything was going quite smoothly....and I must say the beer, not so much of a problem. By about the fifth or sixth inning though, Trevor, Jay, and me were dreading the hot dog we had to consume and they were sitting on our plates until two outs in the bottom of the inning....I'll tell you this much none of us have futures as competitive eaters or anything like that. Actually writing about this makes me feel rather disgusted at the feat, but now we are part of an ultra-exclusive club containing the likes of Chris Farley, George Wendt, and other fat people like them who may have accidentally eaten this much at some point. The drinking then continued....7 and 7's, beer...everything. I personally did not eat for about the next 27 hours. So as we continued drinking into the evening, I went to Brian's briefly to have some beers with him and Paul. While there, a couple things happened: 1)Trevor called and asked if he could give away/eat some of my food. To which I told him no. Trevor happens to be the king of the not so secret society of mooches. He is good at it, I will give him that, but you really have to put your foot down sometimes. 2)Brian, Paul, and I were watching Ultimate Fighter, and on this show they always endorse a nutritional supplement called "Xyience" so as we are watching this (and I have been drinking for about seven hours) I inform them I am going to buy some Xyience. Only the next day do I realize I have purchased about $156 worth of these products. Brian's karma is going in the shitter for that one. So I eventually returned home. Without ever lifting his eyes, he stepped backward, out into the room's vast empty spaces (DB). At this time, around 10:30, Trevor and I were both growing very tired. At this point Brian and Paul were becoming very not tired and very ready to go to the bar. At this point I was then dragged by my leg out to my living room from my bed. It was then I discovered I also lacked the faculties to stand up. So we went to the bar, a la Jean Parmesan (arrested development reference) and stayed for about two hours. Due to some reasons for which I feel deep unrest, Brian and Paul had to step up their drinking efforts for the evening. I offer my condolences to all the friends and family members involved in that. Trevor and I finally concurred and said "Why the hell are we even here?" and left to a waiting cab out front. Upon arriving home, the cab driver requested $7...I had $6 and Trevor (which I don't even think I asked him) obviously had none. So as a sign of good faith, I gave the driver the six dollars and explained that I was leaving Trevor with him in the car as collateral. sweet move, is it not? I then went inside, got a dollar from Derek, and got a big handful of change from the good old piggybank. The driver was more than happy with this and agreed to let Trevor go. As T-Bag was falling asleep he confessed that he had eaten some of my deli ham "Three slices" he even added to show how little damage he had done.
SUNDAY:I find my ziploc bag of ham torn open with 1/4 pound remaining of the previously unblemished 1.08 pounds.
Moral of the weekend: Trevor is a glutton for meat and is not to be trusted around meat products in your home.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Thoughts while thinking....por favor TOO TASTY
A lot has gone down since last week. I attended a Candle and Rose at Dominican, had a whirlwind KY Derby trip, and....well that is pretty much it. But it seems like a lot.
Candle and Rose is this ceremony at Dominican where the graduating class (The Candle) picks someone to be their Rose and their is a ceremony with the exchanging of the two things. I had participated in all of the last four. It is always a sweet ass time of drinking as well. So this year I was supposed to partake, but some things happened and I was not even going to go. I did not need anything to ruin my Cinqo de Mayo. But then I ended up going and for the first time, watching the ceremony rather than participating in it. It was pretty cool, sort of boring but still pretty cool. And I sat with the Plovanich family and we enjoyed some delicious adult beverages, and then three of us peed on Mrs.P's minivan. Sounds dirty, I know, but Joe, Sarah, and I all had to go, and we did not actually pee ON it, but rather in close proximity to it. Then we went to the beer garden and everyone drank to their merry delight.
No less then 4 hours after I arrived home, I woke up to depart for the whirling dervish KY adventure. It was kickass. The drive, the party, pretty much everything kicked ass. There was drinking, a Goulet off, a fine death metal performance, some Mack the Knife, a stolen can of garbanzo beans, a skirmish to the death and even a Proctor sighting.
I would like to take this opportunity to once again note: IF SOMETHING FUNNY IS OCCURING AND I AM AROUND, DO NOT MENTION "OH I KNOW THIS IS GOING IN THE BLOG" OR "THIS IS GOING IN THE BLOG, IS IT NOT?" YOU KNOW WHAT, NO IT'S NOT. I LIKE TO THINK I HAVE CREATIVE CONTROL OVER WHAT GOES IN HERE. AND IF SOMETHING FUNNY HAPPENS, IT MIGHT GET MENTIONED, IT MIGHT NOT. I AM NOT A GOOD ENOUGH WRITER TO PAINT A CLEAR PICTURE OF EVERY, OR IN FACT ANY, SITUATIONS SUCH THAT THEY CAN BE SEEN AS FUNNY. I TRY, BUT OFTEN IT IS A BATTLE SIMILAR TO A BABY FIGHTING RICKETS, JUST LET LIFE TAKE ITS COURSE. AND ALSO I ENJOY MY ORANGE JUICE PULP FREE. THANK YOU.
I have been thinking lately that I would love to be a writer...all the time. However, until I was able to write something worth publishing (other then this writing which is really like gravel in a freshly asphalted world) I would not really be able to support myself. I would therefore like to extend an invitation to myself from someone I know. You should let me live on your couch, I will do your laundry, make your food, and do your bidding with the devil, as well as have occasional rendez-vous with homeless people in your house while you are at work. When I put it that way, it doesn't sound too shabby, does it? And if I didn't feel like doing any of that stuff I wouldn't, because I would be a moody British writer. Yes, British.
The other night Christi and I were kind enough to help Brian with the painting of his room which had previously been made a joke by the painting stylings of one Paul Stover, who paints as if applying extra paint and pressure would help the situation...he is basically the Juggernaut of painters. So if I ever have a house and want to have a funny looking room, I know who to enlist to help me. So Christi mainly painted, I supervised and Brian did some painting too. I am an excellent supervisor. Worker morale was high, there was very little tension, I kept up with Union and OSHA rules, and even sexually harrassed people when the situation was deemed appropriate according to the handbook of supervisory rules. I did not really paint since I was once called "one of the worst painters in the history of mankind....in fact Jackson Pollack would have been a better choice you nimrod...seriously, have you been checked for Down's Syndrome? I don't mean to offend you, but seriously".
Jason Whitlock is a writer on the Page 2 section of Espn.com and frequently starts his column with little love notes he receives from celebrity women...totally fictionalized of course, but slightly witty all the same. To outdo him and everyone else in the world, here is my love LETTER I received from Elisha Cuthbert:
Dear Tim,
It feels as if it has been months since I last felt your warm embrace, but thank goodness I had that cardboard cutout made of you so that I can have a hug whenever I want. And you were right, the digital recording of your voice saying incredibly witty, funny things does help me fall asleep at night. I never knew what I wanted in life until there was you. I know, I know....it makes me sound so dorky and I feel sort of silly too, since I know you must be going on dates with literally hundreds of thousands of women.
I am so thankful that you were able to help me sort out my life and realize I had more potential as an actress then starring in commercials. And you were totally right when selecting roles for me in "Old School", "24" amd "The Girl Next Door"....to think I wanted to be the new face of Reynolds Wrap Aluminum Foil...I never really thought I was pretty enough to get these "young cute girl roles" and had even thought about giving up and going back to my old job cleaning bathrooms in Canada. That is just the effect you have on people though...to make them their best because you are always trying your best. I don't think you are like a unicorn or anything (tee hee) but you are magical.
Well, I will be back whenever you allow it. I am so sorry for that night and I swear it was an accident. I really had no idea that you were so anti-Canada, and I apologize a kabillion times for being Canadian and for wearing that Maple leaf lingerie set....I got rid of it and got some Stars and Stripes if that helps anything. Please call. I miss you and Kiefer Sutherland is really starting to creep me out. Call or whatever as soon as you can.
Love,
Elisha
XOXOXO
So, that's what I get in the mail like once a week. But Canada, seriously now?
A tasty weekend to all.
Candle and Rose is this ceremony at Dominican where the graduating class (The Candle) picks someone to be their Rose and their is a ceremony with the exchanging of the two things. I had participated in all of the last four. It is always a sweet ass time of drinking as well. So this year I was supposed to partake, but some things happened and I was not even going to go. I did not need anything to ruin my Cinqo de Mayo. But then I ended up going and for the first time, watching the ceremony rather than participating in it. It was pretty cool, sort of boring but still pretty cool. And I sat with the Plovanich family and we enjoyed some delicious adult beverages, and then three of us peed on Mrs.P's minivan. Sounds dirty, I know, but Joe, Sarah, and I all had to go, and we did not actually pee ON it, but rather in close proximity to it. Then we went to the beer garden and everyone drank to their merry delight.
No less then 4 hours after I arrived home, I woke up to depart for the whirling dervish KY adventure. It was kickass. The drive, the party, pretty much everything kicked ass. There was drinking, a Goulet off, a fine death metal performance, some Mack the Knife, a stolen can of garbanzo beans, a skirmish to the death and even a Proctor sighting.
I would like to take this opportunity to once again note: IF SOMETHING FUNNY IS OCCURING AND I AM AROUND, DO NOT MENTION "OH I KNOW THIS IS GOING IN THE BLOG" OR "THIS IS GOING IN THE BLOG, IS IT NOT?" YOU KNOW WHAT, NO IT'S NOT. I LIKE TO THINK I HAVE CREATIVE CONTROL OVER WHAT GOES IN HERE. AND IF SOMETHING FUNNY HAPPENS, IT MIGHT GET MENTIONED, IT MIGHT NOT. I AM NOT A GOOD ENOUGH WRITER TO PAINT A CLEAR PICTURE OF EVERY, OR IN FACT ANY, SITUATIONS SUCH THAT THEY CAN BE SEEN AS FUNNY. I TRY, BUT OFTEN IT IS A BATTLE SIMILAR TO A BABY FIGHTING RICKETS, JUST LET LIFE TAKE ITS COURSE. AND ALSO I ENJOY MY ORANGE JUICE PULP FREE. THANK YOU.
I have been thinking lately that I would love to be a writer...all the time. However, until I was able to write something worth publishing (other then this writing which is really like gravel in a freshly asphalted world) I would not really be able to support myself. I would therefore like to extend an invitation to myself from someone I know. You should let me live on your couch, I will do your laundry, make your food, and do your bidding with the devil, as well as have occasional rendez-vous with homeless people in your house while you are at work. When I put it that way, it doesn't sound too shabby, does it? And if I didn't feel like doing any of that stuff I wouldn't, because I would be a moody British writer. Yes, British.
The other night Christi and I were kind enough to help Brian with the painting of his room which had previously been made a joke by the painting stylings of one Paul Stover, who paints as if applying extra paint and pressure would help the situation...he is basically the Juggernaut of painters. So if I ever have a house and want to have a funny looking room, I know who to enlist to help me. So Christi mainly painted, I supervised and Brian did some painting too. I am an excellent supervisor. Worker morale was high, there was very little tension, I kept up with Union and OSHA rules, and even sexually harrassed people when the situation was deemed appropriate according to the handbook of supervisory rules. I did not really paint since I was once called "one of the worst painters in the history of mankind....in fact Jackson Pollack would have been a better choice you nimrod...seriously, have you been checked for Down's Syndrome? I don't mean to offend you, but seriously".
Jason Whitlock is a writer on the Page 2 section of Espn.com and frequently starts his column with little love notes he receives from celebrity women...totally fictionalized of course, but slightly witty all the same. To outdo him and everyone else in the world, here is my love LETTER I received from Elisha Cuthbert:
Dear Tim,
It feels as if it has been months since I last felt your warm embrace, but thank goodness I had that cardboard cutout made of you so that I can have a hug whenever I want. And you were right, the digital recording of your voice saying incredibly witty, funny things does help me fall asleep at night. I never knew what I wanted in life until there was you. I know, I know....it makes me sound so dorky and I feel sort of silly too, since I know you must be going on dates with literally hundreds of thousands of women.
I am so thankful that you were able to help me sort out my life and realize I had more potential as an actress then starring in commercials. And you were totally right when selecting roles for me in "Old School", "24" amd "The Girl Next Door"....to think I wanted to be the new face of Reynolds Wrap Aluminum Foil...I never really thought I was pretty enough to get these "young cute girl roles" and had even thought about giving up and going back to my old job cleaning bathrooms in Canada. That is just the effect you have on people though...to make them their best because you are always trying your best. I don't think you are like a unicorn or anything (tee hee) but you are magical.
Well, I will be back whenever you allow it. I am so sorry for that night and I swear it was an accident. I really had no idea that you were so anti-Canada, and I apologize a kabillion times for being Canadian and for wearing that Maple leaf lingerie set....I got rid of it and got some Stars and Stripes if that helps anything. Please call. I miss you and Kiefer Sutherland is really starting to creep me out. Call or whatever as soon as you can.
Love,
Elisha
XOXOXO
So, that's what I get in the mail like once a week. But Canada, seriously now?
A tasty weekend to all.
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