Bad Friends and Lovers

Wow! What a girlie morning it is 'round the McMansion. Another hard day of doing lunch and dreaming while all dressed up in my pastel lab coat, the one with that really cute embroidered ensignia, whilst I sip my latte and studiously morph the DNA of Fiennes, Stipe and Foxworthy to come up with the perfect guy. OOOOOWWWWW look! It's boiling over and it's... Anderson Cooper! Again. Damn. Gotta go back and mess with the formula now. Hate when the other team thing happens.

But first, I gotta stay on Raised Right Southern Girl task of cranking out the obligatory thank you notes on monogramed stationary. Then again, someone mentioned the other day we actually lost the war, so it is highly unlikely I'll be Marthaing around Tara today, so here goes my e-version...

Thank you Kevin and Jeneane for being on the WRFG show yesterday. You two are delightful, smart, and I'm glad you're my new friends. I'd insert a little Harriet Miers smiley face here, but then I'd have to go bitch slap myself, and I've made such amazing strides lately, Praise The Lord, in NOT slapping myself silly in the mirror before I drive carpool all the freakin' time, that I'm going to just NOT DO IT. hee hee good for me. tralalalalaleedee.

Speaking of friends, here's the tale of one you do not need. Then again, if you pick friends with ugly hairdos and stupid expressions on their beady-eyed faces, don't be surprised when they want to give you a Carrie-esque baby shower. I ain't talking Carrie Bradshaw here either, Ladies.

There's a fine line between sass and total idiocy. British chicks seem to be crossing over that puddle in droves, if not in really loopy level heels. Still, if you didn't have to be a roaring lush to be a Bint, it sounds kinda fun to be a Girl Gone Wild in the old country. You gotta love their odes to oldies like Paula Yates, Catherine The Great and The Princess and The Pea.

Other than that folks, here's a report on Christopher Hitchens' raging impotence. As if that's news, believable variety or not. Now why should I give a flying fritz about shagging writers?