The woman who gave me the flu shot panicked at how much bleeding I did, so I decided that called for a Cadbury Creme egg. Every year I forget how delicious those things are, and then I remember and spend the rest of the season swooning and pretending that they have a lot more calories than the 150 they do, so I feel like I can't possibly fit them into my diet. But God, they're yummy.
Cadbury chocolate is my favorite crap chocolate. I understand that it's mostly wax and not good for you like dark chocolate is, but it's a kind of deliciousness that sometimes you just want to cram in your face. It didn't fix my arm - it still hurts like it got punched by a freight train. A freight train with arms. And hands. But for a few short, blissful seconds, I was in Cadbury Creme heaven.
Every time I watch Antiques Roadshow, I think about how unfortunate it is that the boring host's name is Mark Wahlberg - he's like Marky Mark if Marky Mark interrupted my Antiques Roadshow to talk about boring things in museums. (I hate when they do that. Why can't they just do an hour of straight appraisals?) I wonder how much flak he gets for his name, and how much he hates the fact that a kid who jumped around stage in tighty-whiteys made his perfectly normal name a really bad one to have in show business.
Speaking of Marky Mark, does anyone else wish that he and the Funky Bunch would put together a reunion tour? I like it when punky white boys try to rap. Me and Vanilla Ice? I'm just waiting for that to come up some karaoke night. Once upon a time, I worked really hard to learn all those words. Stop, collaborate and listen, baby.
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