Classic Taylor! -- Or -- I Swear To God I Am Not Making This Up

Due to popular demand, the content of this post has been replaced with an infant dressed up as a hot dog.

Fergorrendous

Last night we accidentally caught the first three minutes of Gossip Girl on the CW--I swear to Buddha it was an accident, we were just cleaning up after dinner before switching over to the DVRing Bionic Woman--and for some hilarious and unfathomable reason, the creators decided to open up their new series with an all female choir arrangement of Fergie's Glamorous. For realsies.

Words cannot express...it was horrible. HORRIBLE. When they said floss-ay floss-aaay I started to question if I had lost my mind. It was more uncomfortable than last night on America's Next Top Model when Tyra started talking with a french accent for no reason and then kept up with it for like 5 minutes of air time. Yeah, I watch it.

I already feel that Fergie is the worst thing to happen to music since my buddy Paco from high school changed his name to Pimp Daddy Welfare and released his rap single Mr T. Is A Bitch*, and this was the worst thing to happen to Fergie since those terrorists released an ultra-slow lullaby-remix of My Humps, which I'd gladly link to here except the US government tracked and eradicated all existing copies for the good of the world. Best 33 billion dollars they ever spent. Point is, don't watch Gossip Girl, or you will die.

*

Mr T. is a bitch, Mr. T is a bitch

 

And I pity the fool that don't know that shit

Various Updates

Weekend update: I'm just starting the work week, because I've spent the last couple days home coughing. Hey, remember back in college when I had that hacking cough for 4 years straight? Haha, oh I coughed up many a gob. I've mostly dropped that, but I've had a wicked cold for the past few days so I opted to stay home and hang out with the dog, who in a blessed expression of sympathy for my plight barely tried to eat me at all. He did jump up on the couch and shake his ass in my face for a while, but considering how much he loves that area himself he was probably trying to do a nice thing.

Wedding update: The new date is set! Clear your schedules, steam your best suit, and start saving to buy us that LCD HDTV because wedding bells are ringing right here in Austin, TX on March 8th. That's March 8th. If you're reading this you're probably invited, unless you're some weirdo. Lizett has shocked the world and punched the Pope right in the face by opting to have a non-Catholic, non-Church, and indeed wholly non-religious ceremony at a historical mansion in downtown Austin, thus assuring our eternal damnation in the eyes of the Jesus and not coincidentally her mamama. Huge bonus: no Pre-Cana.

Fitness update: Lifting is coming along quite nicely but I'm hitting some problems with the running. In week 3 of the Couch to 5k program we have just now progressed to equal parts walking and running, and still my right shin continues to throb more with each stride. I'm not quite sure how to proceed because I genuinely could not be taking it any slower, and I definitely don't want to stop, but if things continue at this rate I'll be past the point of tolerance within a couple weeks. The dude at RunTex said I have high arches, maybe I'll try some insoles and see if that helps any.

Swarley update: Swarley/CESM/Gynecomastea has lost her virtue, violated by a pebble kicked up by some sonofabitch on I-35. My formerly pristine CRV now has a small but noticeable chip/crack in the windshield which, left untreated, could destroy the fabric of reality. The first injury to an otherwise unmarred car is so traumatic. I remember when I first got the Silver Bullet, it was right outside of Boracho--God bless her, she was barely out of the dealer lot when Moose opened a car door right into her front passenger side, taking out a paint chip the size of some sort of small paint chip and a largish piece of my soul. I temporarily swallowed my rage because, let's face it, Moose could snap my arms off and reintegrate them with my body via my rectum with minimal effort, but brothers, it hurt. Man, Boracho was good though. Good going down anyway, but it's like McDonalds breakfast--first you eat it, then it eats your stomach lining.