I watched "I Married the Eiffel Tower" in its entirety yesterday. (Happy Easter!) I heard myself actually yelling at the TV this time. "Oh, so you were molested? Get an eating disorder and a bottle of Prozac like the rest of us, sister!" See for yourself why my hair erupted into flames:
Hold onto your effing hat. Or fence. Or church banister. Or Twin Tower model. Yeeesh.
I wish to God I could unsee and unhear this chick's description of her "love" of the carnival ride. How 'bout ya'll? Jesus H.
Next up? "My Car is My Lover" Thursday night. Awesome.