We’re Irish, it’s gonna be a long night.

If there is one thing we know how to do, it’s have a wake. So because there’s actual shit going on in my actual life that requires me to, like, wear a skirt and do my hair, and that does not just happen, let me tell you, I’m only commenting on links today. You know what they say about women and sausages.

(Okay. I just read that. It sounds dirty. It’s not. You’re just not supposed to watch either being made if you want to enjoy them.)

Oh, wait. I lied. I must comment on the gross unfairness in our society that men (who already get to get old and fat and are still considered hot- see Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia) are able to pop into Men’s Warehouse for twenty minutes and emerge with a perfectly tailored jacket that of course looks lovely with the perfectly tailored khaki pants and I had to roam Bayshore for three freaking hours to find the last sober dress they had. It is so not fair.

Anyways, John Mayer cut off his hair. Oh, John, baby, no. Not good. I liked you. I thought you were cute. I guess I don’t have to pretend to like your music anymore.

Maggie Gyllenhaal wears an ugly dress. I only bring this up because at work somebody told me that I looked like Maggie Gyllenhaal, and hey, I’ll take it.

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