Y'all, I said the creepiest thing the other day. Sunday night, offscreen ended up crashing at my house, which was good, as we'd planned on shopping on Monday anyways. So we were hanging out Monday evening and she was all wonky
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I don't know if discussing Marin Mazzie's gaping maw and quoting funny songs that Booker T. Washington could sing for Coalhouse counts as talkin' Ragtime, per se.
I'm listening to songs that were popular when I was in seventh grade. Thank God it doesn't make me feel like it's 1989 all over again. Hold on tight, you know I'm a little bit dangerous.
I'm really disappointed it wasn't Tawny Kitaen, ya know. If that special was painful as-is, imagine THAT. "And now, our hosts for the evening, Alex Trebek and Tawny Kitaen!"
(I'd totally forgot about Alex Trebek. ALEX TREBEK. I MEAN, REALLY.)
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I'm SO NICE.
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(Am I really having an argument with Hillary Clinton via my LJ while I listen to Roxette? Wow. Happy Wednesday!)
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We've been talkin' Ragtime all day and I'm wearing my Tommy shirt. It feels like 1998 all over again.
Except, you know, NOT AT ALL.
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I'm listening to songs that were popular when I was in seventh grade. Thank God it doesn't make me feel like it's 1989 all over again. Hold on tight, you know I'm a little bit dangerous.
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Ragtime would qualify under songs I *listened* to in seventh grade -- actually, no. Eighth. But yeah.
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(I'd totally forgot about Alex Trebek. ALEX TREBEK. I MEAN, REALLY.)
Man. You're making me feel old.
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