I'm queueing up the Tivo for Christian Slater's show, My Own Worst Enemy. I watched and liked the first episode, and am hoping this show will get better. I see potential. Plus, hello, Christian Slater. I don't care if he's trying to channel Jack Nicholson, he'll always be my DJ LaSalle.
How excited am I that Dancing With The Stars has added not only West Coast swing, but the freaking HUSTLE to the selection of dances? Way too excited, that's how excited. And jitterbug? And salsa? I am in TV geek heaven.
Also, Susan Lucci needs to go home, along with Cloris Leachman. Puhlease.
UPDATE: Holy shit, this is crap. Cloris Leachman is still on and Toni Braxton is off? WTF?
Just saw a commercial for the "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Made in 1966, the year I was born. I totally need to watch this with Carlie, she's never seen it.
Another exciting turn of events: I ran an 8-minute mile tonight. Just one. But, look, here I am, blogging, and not dead! Yay. My comfortable jog pace is 12-minutes per mile. My push it and haul ass pace is 10 minutes, and I can't keep it up for more than three or four miles. But apparently my oh-my-god-it's freezing-please-let-this-two-mile-jog-be-over-with pace is 8 minutes. Who knew?