Last night, I dreamed that I was at a big food festival. I was carrying a plate of chow and a glass of beer, and walking in high heels (I told you it was a dream). When the ground turned to plexiglass under my feet, of course I slipped and fell...but didn't spill my beer! I guess even in my dreams, I can keep my priorities straight.
Eeyore just grabbed a partial potato chip out of my hand and happily ate it. I haven't seen him that excited about my food since he realized that there is tuna in those pouches I open.
Sweeney Todd gives a whole new meaning to Manwich.
I love cream cheese, but I detest cheesecake. Go figure.
Right now, I'd like to viciously stab the silly-ass balloon that is the romantic myth of the starving artist. I find no inspiration in being broke. It's neither cool nor hip to have no idea where the next dollar is coming from. In fact, being unemployed and having no income has had the effect of hollowing me out, artistically speaking. Once somebody hires me, I'm sure there are a million ideas that are hiding under my panic, waiting to be released by a regular paycheck. Until then, you'll get lame lists like this from me.
Katy Barzedor busted a nut up in this bitch at 10:24 PM