Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

don't go around breaking young girl's hearts

Man alive. I realize that I am one of roughly... 17 billion bloggers who feels compelled to write about the Michael Jackson/Farrah Fawcett sadness that happened yesterday. I'm working on a theory about MJ in which he faked his own death and is now happily ensconced in a Swiss detox facility where the evil American tax man will never find him. Y'all will of course be the first to know if I find any proof. In the meantime though, this video gives me goosebumps. Moonwalk, baby.


Does Switzerland have an extradition policy with the US? Is the tax man even allowed to extradite people? The world may never know. Ok, the world probably already knows - more accurately, I may never know. However, it makes me happy to think of him there after all the sadness and craziness he's had in his life, so I'm gonna do so.

As for the lovely Miss Fawcett. Charlie's Angels (even pre-Drew Barrymore) poses a problem for me. I love them in their asskicking, brainhaving hotness. I hate them for being so clearly enslaved to a man who is nothing more than a voice on the phone. Clearly, that whole Angel/Charlie relationship was more than a employer/employee one - they were smitten. Also, did they ALWAYS have to dress up as strippers n stuff? In Dollhouse, for example, there's a lot of sexy dressing, but the Dolls get to be thieves and psychologists and plenty of other rolls that are not such gimme's on the sex symbol front.

Anyway, everything I know about the woman makes me wish she had been my friend. She was so awesome that I have yet to see a joke about anal cancer anywhere - you swing some serious worldwide respect if you have anal cancer and no one even snickers. Even I'm not snickering. Even in my head. Really.

Farrah - MUAH.

One more quick note on the MJ front. Yesterday I got the scoop on his (fake) untimely demise before it was widely published on these great internets of ours. Being me, I immediately shared the news with everyone who might care. My note to my darlin Yvonne looked like this:

4:04 me: michael jackson is dead i heard!

In my head, that was a sad and shocked voice. In Yvonne's head, it was apparently said with the same tone that I might have said 'I just won the lottery!'. Which almost made her fall off her chair laughing. She's awesome.

Gratuitous Eliza Dushku/Dollhouse shot:

Was I saying something about Dollhouse being less mysogynistic than Charlie's Angels? Huh. Sometimes I'm not as smart as I think I am. Nice tights.

ice age heat wave can't complain

two tickets to iron maiden baby