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Dance, I say

So this is what imminent death is.

just had dinner with my girl friend Kristina at Yard House. It went pretty well, we had some laughs, had our chits and our chats, saw old friends from LSU. But then came the actual food part about the dinner. It was good, just a tad salty. I ordered one of Yard House's "House Favourites:" Southern Fried Breast of Chicken (pictured as follows).

When I returned, I promptly looked up the following information from LiveStrong.com:

Nutrition Facts
Serving Size: 1 order

Amount per Serving
Calories 1500 Calories from Fat 1008

% Daily Value *
Total Fat 112g 172%

Saturated Fat 47g 235%

Cholesterol 270mg 90%

Sodium 3370mg 140%

Total Carbohydrate 78g 26%

Dietary Fiber 6g 24%

Protein 43g 86%

Est. Percent of Calories from:
Fat 67.2% Carbs 20.8%
Protein 11.5%

I feel surprisingly okay, even though I know that death is knocking at my door. Kristina, you can have my new laptop.

xoxo, Jenni

Stop Mo Fo Sho

Oh, how I enjoy stop-and-go motion pictures.

The only thing worth resting my bottom on.

Buy me it here!

It's a chair, by the way.

Champion Mofos

This one goes out to my gurl Justine. You rock! Also, you are one intimidating mofo. With your black tape on your inner thighs and your cold sores and your industrial-strength one-hander backhand swing. None of which are shown in the above picture, by the way. Hmm, I guess I should change that or something.

And speaking of mofos with menacing personas, Andy Murray has made it to men's single finals. Will he take on that Tsonga fellow or the grand-slammiest of them all, Roger Federererer? We shall soon find out, won't we. I'm hoping for Murray vs. R.Fed, and then Murray for the title. Your thoughts?

Sure is frightening, isn't he? I wonder if he qualifies as an ogre. He's British, after all. Maybe an ogre battling manorexia.

The Lust List

As you all know, my b-day is heretofore a-coming. Ya betta believe it, nephew! As such is the appropriate thing one does when one's b-day is approaching, I recently posted my modest, my unpretentious, my scantily-clad, wish list on my evil step-sister blog. While you could get me any of the measly items I've listed there, you could truly tickle me pink by gifting me with any (or all) of the following. I present to you, the Lust List.

Bremont's ALT1-C watches in black/black or brown/cream. Mmmm, cream.

Mother eff, I want an Apple iPad. Is that too too much to ask?

The Jaguar XF, but in that totes awesome shiny brown.

Justin Bieber. Just one time, baby. Then there would be one less lonely girl. (Get it? I used his titles in the previous two sentences. See if you can spot them. Go on.)