Stopped in at the grocery store last night to pick up some Zantac. That should tell you what condition my stomach is in lately.
As I stood in the checkout line, my bleary eye wandered over the usual rags. Enquirer sez Billary are actually aliens, something about Meg Ryan's divorce, yadda yadda.
And then I looked at the cover of Mademoiselle. And the acid content of my stomach increased tenfold.
"DOES YOUR BOYFRIEND HAVE A GUN? ARE YOU SURE?"
I pondered for a second. What would CindyH say in response to such a headline? "No, my boyfriend doesn't have *a* gun. He has 15. And I have two. Nyah! "
How about it, ladies? Light 'em up!
As I stood in the checkout line, my bleary eye wandered over the usual rags. Enquirer sez Billary are actually aliens, something about Meg Ryan's divorce, yadda yadda.
And then I looked at the cover of Mademoiselle. And the acid content of my stomach increased tenfold.
"DOES YOUR BOYFRIEND HAVE A GUN? ARE YOU SURE?"
I pondered for a second. What would CindyH say in response to such a headline? "No, my boyfriend doesn't have *a* gun. He has 15. And I have two. Nyah! "
How about it, ladies? Light 'em up!