I was tooling around Netflix adding more movies I have no time to watch to my queue when it struck me that Paul Walker is a fine looking man.

 Those are some awful purdy blue eyes, and I really don't care that his gorgeous teeth are capped.  It helps that he also looks like this:

Definitely would be hard pressed to kick that out of bed for eating crackers.  Of course, my heart still belongs to Mike Rowe as long as we're talking about impossibilities. I don't know if anyone can match him for sheer snark and sarcasm.  Not to mention I wouldn't get CPS called on my ass for grabbing his.

Has anyone noticed that Steven Seagal, renaissance man that he is, is still making movies despite working for a Louisiana Sheriff's department for the last 20 years?  Or was filming up until 2009?  Wanna know why you don't?  Because, although he is a great shot, speaks fluent Japanese, and is a master in several martial arts, let's face it; the man still can't act.  Wooden is an adjective that comes to mind.  Not that I still don't watch nearly everyone of his movies when they come on the tube, but still.  Can't act.  And he thinks he's the recreation of a Lama or something. (No, not llama, Lama.  He's not that nuts.) 

I'm sitting here in a post holiday funk, waiting for pizza to arrive and for a phone call from the groomers stating that I can come fetch Knucklehead McSpazatron and Crackhead.  They have been there since 1300.  Apparently, although I had an appointment, it was walk-in day at Petco and they are not allowed to turn away walk-ins despite running out of kennel room, leashes, tie rings to clip said leashes to, and a 4-5 hour wait time for scheduled appointments to be done.  I heard all this at check in.  It seems the natives were a trifle displeased with management today.  So now I'm sitting next to my cell phone, wondering if it is going to ring to come fetch them the same second that the pizza arrives, or if they can't get Crackhead cleaned up well enough because of the tsunami of spittle he has invariably filled the boutique with.  ( He tends to drool when nervous.  Looks like a Saint Bernard when he really gets going.)  As it is nearly 6 pm, I'm starting to wonder if I need to call to see if everything is alright or if they've forgotten my phone number.  And I still haven't started on FBs birthday, which is tomorrow.  Tree is still up, decorations everywhere, and family room a shambles from the daylong Xbox fest he has indulged with his friends over WiFi.   I just have to get through his birthday shenanigans and I am starting the "Campaign of Fitness."  I let myself have WAY too much leeway this holiday season, and with still not being able to run or put a lot of stress on my knee, that has resulted in some dastardly after effects.  Yeesh.  I'm going to have to cover all the mirrors in the bathroom in shame.