"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


8 lb 6 oz newborn baby jesus

Gratuitous is the word (is the word that you heard).

I didn't work this week but somehow I managed. To do nothing constructive. Out of a desire to blog for the sake of it, I shall now regale you with a poorly written recap of my whirlwind week o' slack.

I am now fully addicted to Weeds. If you haven't seen it, get thee to iTunes. It's dirty in all the right places. Which is to say, everywhere. It doesn't set out to move you in the last few minutes of each show, so it has all the more impact when the moment strikes. Plus I get a sick delight out of little kids using the word motherfucker.

Passions was brilliant this week. Ratings must be in the crapper because they have had at least three shirtless men on screen at all times. I really should have started a drinking game based on each instance of shirt removal.

Ssssssssssssnakesssssssssssss on a Plane
. Was that and so so much more. Gore, on a plane. Sex, on a plane. PSP addiction, on a plane. Bloated, oozing corpses, on a plane. Adam turned to us when it was all over, and said "well, I don't know what I was expecting..." Of course the snake lover in me had a few asinine moments of turning to Jesse and saying things like "constrictors don't have teeth like that! ARRRRRR!"

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip may just make up for Sports Night's cancellation. After seeing the pilot, I can honestly forgive Sorkin for leaving the West Wing to suck for several seasons. Who knew I'd ever look forward to Monday nights?

Talladega Nights
. Just see it. And take me with you.

Dave Chapelle's Block Party. I have this little problem, which luckily didn't manifest itself during Talladega Nights because his screen time was so short, but I become what can only be described as "Beatles on Ed Sullivan Front Row Bitch Crazy" whenever Mos Def is on screen. Like, want to rip my panties off and throw them at him, squealing and dripping like a honeycomb. No other man has this effect on me, and your guess is as good as mine as to why. So, this film could have been Mos Def brushing his teeth, and I would watch it on a loop. But when you factor in Quest Love from the Roots just grinning and drumming all day, and Dave Chapelle being himself all over the place, this is my new favorite film. Don't even get me started on how much I love Michel Gondry. Just don't. There was not a minute of this film I can complain about.

I befriended and defriended a small child this week. Day one I loaned her my bike. Day two she went through everything I own and made off with a good portion of it. Day three she threw rocks at my house to get my attention. This is why you shouldn't talk to small children.

Went to the Smokies game for Jodie's birthday and implemented the "kid in a candy store" attack on the concession stand. Later, at Sapphire I couldn't even drink my martini (me!) I was so sick from all the hot dogs, popcorn, ice cream, and pretzel I consumed. I came disgustingly close to puking on Joe's shoes. Aren't you glad you read this far?

Tonight, Urinetown.

Work is for suckers.