The New Puppy Cam

When I was 4, I got a box of Trix cereal for Christmas. It was basically the best present ever - a perfect technicolor consumable accessory to the 90's holiday television specials on my family's busted television. After too many tiny little fist fulls of the sugar enriched crud, rainbow crumbs speckled my face and the empty box lay on the floor. It was then that I knew pure joy.

I can never go back to that. Never.

The closest I can get is perhaps betamaxmas.com ... and a box of honey nut cheerios.
Channels of snowy-screen holiday reruns to flip through (they have commercials too!), and adjustable rabbit ears make me feel a little less dead inside this time of year.

We all have heros.

Way to go Madonna. Only your terrifying quads could have the insane ability to make Britney Spears seem relatively normal, sane, and maybe even in possession of a little thing called class in comparison. Excuse me while I clean up the vomit on my keyboard. Looking at the quintessential pop bad girl from way back when, and the grossly infamous good girl mouseketeer gone rotten (I'm not even bringing Lindsey Lohan into this), I fear for the likes of Hillary Duff and Miley Cyrus in the ongoing attempts to "mature" their image. In fact Duff is already well along that path going at her B-side celeb rate, but her new video still really weirded me out...I don't like Lizzie Mcguire telling me to touch her. I really really don't.



I'm sorry. I really am. You...you had to know how bad it was. Please don't hate me.