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“Hmmm, I don’t feel like going to work today. I know what I’ll do! I’ll plant a fake bomb so the place gets shut down! Yeah, that’ll do it.”

I found this BBC article on women’s body perceptions really depressing (and depressingly familiar)… until I got to the last bit. A doctor said, “Women think their bodies are infinitely malleable. Most women can’t change their shape and it’s unusual to be that thin.” That perked me right up. Why aren’t we hearing this more? This is the type of reality check women need. Of course we’re depressed when Slim-Fast and Subway are showing us pictures of people who’ve completely changed shape. Sure, they include small type saying that the results aren’t normal, but they wouldn’t be showing it to you if the message wasn’t “You can do this too!” Women need to hear that sometimes you can’t. You can be healthy, but you can’t make yourself into something you’re not.

I wouldn’t want to look like Jennifer Aniston anyway. She’s too bony. Her arms look like my grandma’s.

I don’t mean to be crude, but how many people are going to click on this picture purely to see if they can spot any actual child porn? I admit it, I did. It’s like looking at a car accident. You can’t resist. I guess that’s why Yahoo blurred it.

I am happy to report that UK Papa John’s pizza tastes exactly like the US version. Exactly. The breadsticks are spot-on too. The only slight problem with the entire experience was that the delivery guy brought us chicken wings instead of breadsticks, so he had to go back and switch them. But other than that, if I had closed my eyes I might’ve been sitting in my PW dorm room on the Thursday night waiting for “Friends” to start. Ahhh…

Since when is someone not buying a house considered the news?

This is so sad. A little English boy had a bicycle accident and lost the top of a finger. So his parents took him to the hospital to have it sewn on. He died. I can’t imagine the shock his family must feel.

Dammit. The UK Survivor application specifies that I have to have a valid UK passport to be on the show. Maybe I can con one of the guys in the office into marrying me…

I am Cuddly Smurf. Awww, isn’t that special? (Link courtesy of Kitty Noir.)

Update: Why didn’t anyone alert me to my typo? It read “Cuddy Smurf” for hours.

A-ha! Finally, proof of what I’ve always suspected: English people are wrong with that whole “orientate” business. It drives me up the wall when I hear somebody say it. I’m like, “It’s “orient,” people. Quit cramming in extra syllables.”

The Bangles are coming! The Bangles are coming! And I just got tickets.