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Sunday, February 22, 2009

The Worst Of The Bad Things = True

Elements of the equation for why I am doubtful I will be able to sleep tonight without periodically breaking out in a flop sweat and screaming "NO!" every hour or so:

1. frosted hair, cabbage patch doll Barbara Walters, lisp
2. Hugh Jackman
3. squinty eyes that she thinks translate to "I am a probing investigator-interviewer, so GET OUT DA WAY, I am not washed up yet"
4. blah blah blah blah struggle blah blah blah blah are you gay? blah blah blah remember when YOU GAVE ME A LAP DANCE
5. odd, 70's gyration and old lady giggling

And I'm thinking now overall the evening was filled with some nice entertainment and then Barbara has to go and RUIN everything by finishing off her 3 seconds of freaky interview segments and 9 hours of commercials in between with Hugh Jackman giving her a lap dance. Where is her ADVISOR? What about Dan Rather? Isn't he still giving her hints about how not to make people need tranquilizers because you've upset them with the images you've carelessly splashed across their televisions?

Barbara did not listen.

That lady in the corner mumbling to her shoe

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