Back on third rock.
I'm probably supposed to be kissing the ground or something, but I'm kind of undergoing what might be vertigo or a severe case of jet-lag or maybe morning sickness--pretty sure it's morning sickness, since, well, hey, it's kind of abundantly clear that waking up every morning and remembering that you're a homicidally inclined pregnant woman is the most horrific thing your stomach can possibly experience without shriveling up like a prune and committing suicide. Thanks for showing up late to the party, bile.
Prior to reacquainting myself with the toilet, I held a charity event at Metropolis City Hall yesterday morning to graciously pay for a set of newly acquired city damages, which Potts unsurprisingly found time to document. Thanks, Potts. Cute.
Lastly but not leastly, I took the lovely Ms. Bertinelli out for champagne and a short lesson on Astronomy before taking the jet back to California. Which reminds me: Hogan, Ted Nugent called. He wants his shirt back.
Is that it? Yeah, that's it. Good god-- come on, Pepper, get on the ball. Don't let me do your job.
Prior to reacquainting myself with the toilet, I held a charity event at Metropolis City Hall yesterday morning to graciously pay for a set of newly acquired city damages, which Potts unsurprisingly found time to document. Thanks, Potts. Cute.
Lastly but not leastly, I took the lovely Ms. Bertinelli out for champagne and a short lesson on Astronomy before taking the jet back to California. Which reminds me: Hogan, Ted Nugent called. He wants his shirt back.
Is that it? Yeah, that's it. Good god-- come on, Pepper, get on the ball. Don't let me do your job.