My Fair Lady
Something tells me Jessica Simpson's sand box looks a tad less tidy.
Took the family to the State Fair o’ Texas last night.
While my body makes all sorts of gurps and froozles and other unrecognizable noises trying to digest the toxic combo of jalapeno corn dogs, fried bacon, funnel cakes and draught beers from paper cups, allow me to offer a review of what I witnessed:
The only thing more ridiculous than $35 for a bungee jump – swear, the “Skycoaster” is 70 coupons! (thank God the World’s Smallest Horse is still only 2 coupons) – was Jessica Simpson in concert.
Dressed in jeans and some sort of way-too-conservative black top/coat thingy, Jessica tried to entertain the sizeable crowd that included Tony Romo by hitting some high notes and doing the “work my back” (translation: shake my ass). But, somehow, it didn’t work.
Maybe it's just me -- usually is -- but the way she sang "These boots are made for walk-eeng" seemed forced and, more than that, just really bad.
In the end, Jessica is just a chick with maximum hotness but minimal talent. Trust me, I appreciate her hotness. Sometimes twice a day. But don’t try to trick me into her exalting her talent.
As for Romo, she serenaded the Cowboys’ quarterback as “someone who calms the storms in my life.” She also, turns out, wants him to be someone who impregnates her six times.
Which, in between spicy corn on the cobs, got me to thinking:
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