S’cold.

Yeah!

http://www.hasbro.com/toothtunes/ I ran out to get the Kelly Clarkson verision immediately.

Dear Guy from AFI:

You’re not Dave Gahan. Really. And no one else is impressed with your asymmetrical hair, which looks difficult to manage, unless all that forelock-pushing was affectation. Oh, and I think I turned your microphone off with my mind when you were on Saturday Night Live last week.

“Let It Will Be,” huh?

I downloaded it after Doug and I heard “Hung Up” in some store last month, and Confessions on a Dance Floor is way better than I expected, but even when Madonna’s not repeating what she sang sixteen years ago, she delivers atrocious lyrics. (Also, two songs in 10 years titled “Forbidden Love.” Creative!) Since she’s been famous for most of my life, and I used to be a huge fan (At 9 I thought my upper-lip dot would win me the lead in her future biopic) her capacity for embarrassing me is eclipsed only by my own.

Now I’m sure to be caught.

In a coping mechanism resurrected from high school, I’ve been fingerspelling “I-D-O-N-T-C-A-R-E” over and over, with whichever hand is out of sight, during others’ monologues.

It helps.

Well, she’s BOOK-smart.

11:15 p.m, 12/31/06 : “Uhnnnnnghh. Cake put stomach into spin cycle. Poor choice.”

10:15 a.m, 1/1/07 : “Ooh, leftover cake!”

2:00 p.m, 1/1/07: Set up parents’ new digital camera and photo printer.

2:25 p.m, 1/1/07: Lacked skills necessary to attach strap to parents’ new digital camera.

3:00 p.m, 1/1/07: Backed into parents’ neighbors’ shrubbery. Dragged holiday light strand halfway down driveway with spoiler. Plus side: colorful and tamper-proof coating on trunk hatch!