I've discovered the best comfort food ever: graham crackers (the honey ones, not cinnamon) and nutella. yes, lately I've been getting very comfortable indeed with that combination.

I really hate it when people refer to their son/daughter as "the baby" when the damn kid is old enough to walk and talk. this idea is unfortunately supported by I love lucy, in which little ricky is referred to as "the baby" until he's about twenty-three years old. if you are such an imbecile that you can't remember your toddler's proper name, you shouldn't be a parent.

I don't even want to talk about the approaching dawn of the school year. I dread it just as much as justin and josh, if not more. I've gotten used to justin being around all day, every day. I'm feeling lonely already (and yes, I know that I'm clingy and dependent, but if he doesn't mind neither should you).

I should read audio books for a living. all the best male narrators are named jeremy...well, my two favorites, j. piven and j. irons. just hand either one a cereal box and have them whisper sweet nothings of thiamin and niacin into my ear.

speaking of, justin and I have begun lists of rules to enforce when we take over the world. one of mine is that jeremy piven will no longer be allowed to remove his chest or stomach hair. he will be required to check in for an inspection every two weeks to ensure that it is intact. if not, he shall receive six months in prison, followed by six months of probation, during which time he must always wear a t-shirt in public with a picture of patrick warburton and the caption "this is what a real man looks like" on it.

sorry. it's a big deal with me. trim if you must, guys, but a little fur is a good and manly thing.

anyway, I've got totino's crisp crust pizza to eat.