Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow... (etc)
Ow.
What do you do when painkillers don't touch it and the ones that do turn you into a drivelling fool?
Moan about it, mainly.
It hurts.
What I need is a distraction. I wonder what George Clooney's up to today...
posted by Rainwoman @ Wednesday, September 19, 2007
2 Comments:
Well, babe, in between reading scripts and checking press releases, I read and re-read your blog, just hoping that one day you'll mention me; that one day you will say my name and make our long-secret love affair public.
All these years I've waited, and now you've made me the happiest man alive, I know I don't have much to offer, that's why I know this is the real thing.
As soon as I find out where I left the keys to the Learjet, I'll be right over. Get the bed warmed up and make sure the chickens stay out of the house - you know how the paparazzi twist these things.
xxx
George, I love you. I just laughed so hard, I nearly hurt myself again.
Bed's all warm, chickens are all tucked up. The night is ours!!!
xxx
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