Too soon? No, really, is this too soon, I’m not really good at gauging this sort of thing. Personally, I’m a believer of the power of laughter during rough times, and I’m also a believer of the power of Will Ferrell anytime, so I loved this video. What about you guys?
I know, everyone, I was on pins and needles too. I mean, come on, “both begin with M,” thanks for giving me a homework assignment instead of a straight story, Mariah (I say that because I spent yesterday poring over baby name books, anyone else?). But today is a new day, and we can all breathe a little easier because we finally know the names of those precious angels. Ready?
Monroe and Moroccan. No, really.
The girl is Monroe, after Marilyn, natch, and she doesn’t have a middle name because Mariah doesn’t, and girls have to stick together. Moroccan is the boy, and his middle name is Scott, which is Nick Cannon‘s middle name. They named him Moroccan because Nick proposed in Morocco, and they’re going to call him “Roc” for short.
Well, there you go. The first part of this fantastical saga is over. Monroe and Roc Cannon are at last among us, and I feel like their story is going to be just as monumental as that of their parents.
“I admitted the affair. I told her the hard details. I let her know that I had never loved this woman, that I had never cared for her at all. The feeling of shame and sadness that washed over me as Sandy began to cry was almost beyond measure … I didn’t touch her. I sat frozen in my chair, watching, as Sandy’s small body shook with sobs. From there, Sandra rose to her feet. She unfolded her sunglasses and put them on her face … She walked steadily and purposefully to the front of the shop, opened the heavy, metal door. For a moment, the sunlight enveloped her. The door closed behind her, and she was gone.”
Ugh. Told you this guy was a twat. Way to embellish and sensationalize what was probably one of the lowest moments in another person’s life in a FUCKING TELL-ALL BOOK. Then again, if I were married to Jesse James for some reason or another, it might be the happiest moment of my life, because then I wouldn’t have to pay the douchebag alimony.
Would some say that Mischa Barton‘s gotten fat? Yeah, some probably would. But I’m not going to. She’s not, you know, Victoria’s Secret-caliber-form anymore, but she’s certainly not FAT. However, despite the fact that I wouldn’t call her fat, I WOULD call her out on looking like some caveman’s sister. I mean, hell. What happened to her face? Is this what not giving a fuck is supposed to look like? Because if it is, girl’s got it down pat, and for that, I commend her.
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