Damnit! I only have cancer, irreversible brain damage, severe depression, shortness of breath, nausea, hives, thinning or loss of hair, aggressive behavior, and suicidal tendencies.

I would do the sex with Dolly Parton and her artificial bits.

I read the blog and the book. The blog was just about everything I want out of a blog: a writer with a nice sense of absurdity and a delightful way with the word "fuck" and its endless variations writing about this stupid notion/quest to cook all the recipes in the Julia Child cookbook in a year. Powell balanced…

Blursties over Baghdad.