I have to say, I don't think my Dummy has a nothing box. He's got a football box, a boob box, a dirty joke box, a bathroom box ... but he's always thinking. Or he does a damn good job at pretending to think. :)
This reminds me of a conversation Py and I had tonight. I said, ala Seinfeld, that for men, it's not what's on tv, but what ELSE is on TV, and he countered with, for women, it's not what's on TV, it's what else a woman can do while watching TV. Touche, I thought, and got the computer and blogged while watching TV. :)
Perhaps some of you may have noticed, but the real estate market is beginning a tumble in prices that benefit us, prospective buyers. And we're going to wait. That is cold, cold comfort to those such as J and Py , who are attempting to sell their place as we speak. But, we're not going to wait too much longer, if that makes them feel any better. There is no sense trying to time the bottom of the market, and we have been putting off moving, oh, since Mr. P was born because of the huge runup in prices. So huge that at one point, we could barely afford to buy our own place from ourselves. We should be ok even if we sell at a lower price than we could have gotten say, two years ago. We have, however, a dilemma. We have narrowed our choices down to two cities. And we are stuck there. We just can't figure out which city is better, and they are oh-so-different. Let me give you a rundown. City 1 Older, smaller houses (in our price range) Larger lots Beach city Infrastructure...
I have to say that I am a little bit happy that the big Hollywood Awards season does not seem to be working out due to the writer's strike. Why Gina, you may ask, is that? Is it because you are a huge supporter of unions and believe in the cause? Because the little guy should triumph over the big bad business moguls? Because the movies this year were really crappy? Or maybe you just aren't that big a fan of awards shows in general? No, my friends. The answer is none of those. The answer is HER That bitch done stole my George. And the worst part is that she used to be some sort of stripper/cocktail waitress whom George has elevated into a stratosphere to which she simply does not belong. She went from having dudes ogling her boobs and ordering another round of Goldschlagers to George frickin' Clooney. How the hell did she do that? I mean really, if that had been ME on the motorcycle that George crashed (she's bad luck George, you never crashed before SHE came on ...
Because Friday night is our "movie night" at home and we order pizza and eat it on the couch whilst watching G-rated fare with Mr. P, I have to ask: What is your must-have pizza topping? What is one topping you would never eat?
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