I practically fast forward through Entourage eps when Caan's on screen because he's so disproportionate. Whenever he would get shirty on that show I would always shout out, "And my ax!*" to make my husband laugh. HE IS GROCE. (AND LIKE, ALL OF YOU LOVE HIM. Siiiiiigh. You can have my portion.)
There, I feel better. Except for how I found out yesterday that I AM OLDER THAN ANGIE HARMON BY TWO DAYS. How is that possible? That totes gave me a sad. AND I AM OLDER THAN GOOP. I feel like they're way older than me, and I'm 18 and why do these kids keep calling me "mom" and ... *cry*
Okay, to feel better I'm going to remind myself of the fantastic (and inexpensive) bottle of Calif. Cab I drank last night. Um, I did cook with one glassful of it, so it's not that bad that I drank the rest. NO IT ISN'T. Louis M. Martini Cab Sav, Alexander Valley, 2006 reserve. I'm getting a few bottle to cellar, because it's supposed to get better with age, and I don't know how that's possible.
*You cannot have my axe, though, because it's currently detailing my balls. <--- UM MY SON ASKED FOR THIS PRODUCT. FOR HIS BALLS. NO, THOSE WERE HIS WORDS. I blame video games. (Also, Old Spice Guy on Chuck!!)
That should be enough random for now, right?