The blogosphere says what?

(Parody alert)

Okay, boys and girls, who’s it gonna be? Blake or Jordin?

I’m on pins and needles. And not just ’cause I want that cutie Blake to win (I’m totally copying his style; I’m going Argyle, people). “American Idol” has caused a divide in my home, and I want it repaired.

See, Rand-O wants Jordin to win. He thinks Blake is a Justin Timberlake rip-off. Like what’s wrong with that? I’d gladly have me some Blake and Justin any day! :<)

Not Randy (he still thinks Nick Carter is hot — what-ever!). We had a big fight last week about Blake and Jordin, and another one last night. It ended with me storming out of the room, weeping. And you know the Randster, he just can’t say he’s sorry.

At least he served me Cap’n Crunch in bed this morning. Which reminds me: whatever happened to Crunchberries? They were like my favorite cereal in the world, and now you can’t find them anywhere. I’ve written letters, I’ve complained … nothing! Why does this always happen to me? What about my needs? What about my Crunchberries?

One time Rand-O put blueberries and raspberries in my Crunch, but it wasn’t the same. It was cute, though. That’s the thing about my baby. He can be all poopy sometimes, but then he goes and does something romantic. I just hope we can make it through tonight. I’m going try to be all matures and shit if Blake doesn’t win, but Randy better not get too excited if that happens. But it won’t. I believe in my Blakey!

Okay, ya’ll, time to split. Only five more hours ’til Idol. Remember, vote for Blake (but don’t tell Randy)! Tee-hee.

Puritans on offense

Jerry Falwell may be dead, but his legacy remains:

An obscure law sends one local lingerie store clerk to jail. And now she may forever have to register as a sex offender.

The lingerie store, Somethin’ Sexy, was raided by police last week for violating Lubbock`s sexually oriented business ordinance.

“I feel like I`m in 1690 Salem, Massachusetts and we`re looking for a witch to burn” says the store’s owner.

Or, as the Lubbock Assistant District Attorney put it:

“If they tell them this is a candle put in on the birthday cake this is a novelty if they tell you to use it to enjoy sexual gratification, its no longer a candle on the birthday cake.”

Note to self: take candle out my ass.

“Whenever the wind whistles, I’ll think ‘Lowenstein,’ ‘Lowenstein’ “

The conservative media drinks the Romney Kool-Aid in this fluff piece about the candidate’s wife:

Ann is warm and very natural. She has the look of an outdoors woman bred to be an equestrian, which she is — good carriage, rosy complexion, square jaw, and blond mane.

When she is not flashing her truly unbelievable smile, she may lower her eyes demurely. But Ann Romney is not demure — she may be modest, but she isn’t meek. She is unpretentious, but she isn’t shy. She lowers her eyes, thinking, and then looks up directly at her interviewer and dazzles him with that smile.

(Via Andrew Sullivan)

Doublespeak du jour

"I don’t believe I intended to commit a crime."

–Monica Goodling, the Justice Department’s former White House liaison. Goodling, a graduate of Pat Robertson’s law school, testified before Congress Wednesday on the firing of eight U.S. attorneys.

Avert your eyes

Too late — still, Carrot Top is scarier.

The blogosphere says what?

(Parody alert)

Okay, boys and girls, who’s it gonna be? Blake or Jordin?

I’m on pins and needles. And not just ’cause I want that cutie Blake to win (I’m totally copying his style; I’m going Argyle, people). "American Idol" has caused a divide in my home, and I want it repaired.

See, Rand-O wants Jordin to win. He thinks Blake is a Justin Timberlake rip-off. Like what’s wrong with that? I’d gladly have me some Blake and Justin any day! :<)

Not Randy (he still thinks Nick Carter is hot — what-ever!). We had a big fight last week about Blake and Jordin, and another one last night. It ended with me storming out of the room, weeping. And you know the Randster, he just can’t say he’s sorry.

At least he served me Cap’n Crunch in bed this morning. Which reminds me: whatever happened to Crunchberries? They were like my favorite cereal in the world, and now you can’t find them anywhere. I’ve written letters, I’ve complained … nothing! Why does this always happen to me? What about my needs? What about my Crunchberries?

One time Rand-O put blueberries and raspberries in my Crunch, but it wasn’t the same. It was cute, though. That’s the thing about my baby. He can be all poopy sometimes, but then he goes and does something romantic. I just hope we can make it through tonight. I’m going try to be all matures and shit if Blake doesn’t win, but Randy better not get too excited if that happens. But it won’t. I believe in my Blakey!

Okay, ya’ll, time to split. Only five more hours ’til Idol. Remember, vote for Blake (but don’t tell Randy)! Tee-hee.

Puritans on offense

Jerry Falwell may be dead, but his legacy remains:

An obscure law sends one local lingerie store clerk to jail. And now she may forever have to register as a sex offender.

The lingerie store, Somethin’ Sexy, was raided by police last week for violating Lubbock`s sexually oriented business ordinance.

"I feel like I`m in 1690 Salem, Massachusetts and we`re looking for a witch to burn" says the store’s owner.

Or, as the Lubbock Assistant District Attorney put it:

"If they tell them this is a candle put in on the birthday cake this is a novelty if they tell you to use it to enjoy sexual gratification, its no longer a candle on the birthday cake."

Note to self: take candle out my ass.

“Whenever the wind whistles, I’ll think ‘Lowenstein,’ ‘Lowenstein’ “

The conservative media drinks the Romney Kool-Aid in this fluff piece about the candidate’s wife:

Ann is warm and very natural. She has the look of an outdoors woman bred to be an equestrian, which she is — good carriage, rosy complexion, square jaw, and blond mane.

When she is not flashing her truly unbelievable smile, she may lower her eyes demurely. But Ann Romney is not demure — she may be modest, but she isn’t meek. She is unpretentious, but she isn’t shy. She lowers her eyes, thinking, and then looks up directly at her interviewer and dazzles him with that smile.

(Via Andrew Sullivan)

Avert your eyes

Too late — still, Carrot Top is scarier.