Why do I love being a girl? Because somewhere deep, deep inside me (north of the spleen) is the desire to say trashy things about the way someone else might be dressed. Or I might just be a catty gay man. This is equally possible.
But until I figure this out, I have these lovely creatures to thanks: Go Fug Yourself. Do not hesitate a moment longer. Go. Go. Go. It's the bloody week before Christmas. The office is dead anyway and everyone else in the office is either already drunk or cruising political porn. Utterly worksafe, I promise.
My all-time favorite post is this: Lindsay Lohan (although I have no idea who Ms. Lohan might be. Somehow I think I'd thank y'all not to enlighten me.)