Shit. Shoot me now. Two weeks ago, in a snit, I turned down an interview with
Cillian Murphy. I'd wanted to talk to Neil Jordan, see, but my editor wanted Cillian Murphy. No, I pouted, I wanna talk to the diiirreeectoorrr!!11!!
Then I saw Breakfast on PlutoFuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck. Shoot me now
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I would rather carry a machete for protection, anyway. Does that sound too... I dunno... Third World? Better than a scythe, don't you think? Because that's just Iron Curtain like whoa.
Bwah!
A few days ago, my husband and I were having dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant and their big screen TV instead of showing football as it usually does, showed O'Reilly's program. Bill O'Reilly and pho, two tastes that don't go great together. That show also introduced me to Rachel Marsden who's on my To Slap List.
Cillian Murphy looks astoundingly like Madonna in this pic.
OH SWEETIE. I'm sorry your Vivenne Westwoods has gone to the big Wardrobe in the sky. Hopefully Quentin Crisp, Candy Darling etc. are enjoying them now.
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I'm gonna build an altar to my dead Vivienne Westwood collection. The pain, the pain.
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As for Cillian, maybe there's the possibility of another go around? I'm envious you saw Breakfast with Pluto, though.
When you become a "terrorist helper," can I be your minion? A minion? :D
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*criez over loss of Cillian and Vivienne*
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On second thought, I can't possibly shoot you when you write letters like that to Bill O'Reilly. Can I metaquote you?
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