Wrinkles

I'm of the persuasion that smiling can give you more of them. Or make them develop faster. But I'm also in the camp that says the development of wrinkles through smiling is perfectly okay.

(^I don't know why it's doing that, but typing this is easier than typing that over.)

Even if permanent wrinkles don't develop as quickly, the crow's feet in the corners of the eyes while smiling are usually much deeper on those who tend to smile more. But once again, it's fine, because you look better more consistently throughout your life when your face ages through the influence of smiles over frowns. (And I think we all know of those who age through frowns, and can think of a few of those faces off the top of our heads. And it's not a nice image.)

So basically, my wrinkles are getting deeper since July 22nd.

I really love Amaretto liqueur, but the first few sips of my current glass of DiSoronno tasted like cough syrup. And like cough syrup, it does fun things to my head.

On my way from the kitchen with this drink, I thought up a witty comment on a fun subject, but I forgot what it was in the course of writing what's above.

Someone just hoaxed Ben Affleck's death on Facebook. Or maybe it wasn't a hoax. Maybe I'm hoaxing his death right now. Maybe this will spread everywhere and A Toast to Toast will be on CNN because I'm a PAPARAZZI!!!!

Speaking of which, I love me some Lady Gaga.

In other news, Brian and I had a wonderful trip to the lake. Wonderful meaning absolutely incredible. And absolutely incredible meaning that heaven itself has nothing on Lake Seymour and Brian McKenna. Here's a picture:

In still other news, college is the land of stereotypes this semester. For my lib ed and elective classes, I have Jazz History with a rambling but very knowledgeable jazz pianist who drops name after name, uses terms that the half of the class who aren't music majors won't possibly understand and can't follow chronological order for more than 2 sentences, Italian with an actual (somewhat unstable) Italian lady and Gay and Lesbian Literature with a very gay male professor who also runs the drama department and seems to truly respect the barely relevant things that I say, even when I'm pulling answers out of my ass without even paying attention to the rest of the discussion.

And just like the ridiculously dumb kid in my Bio class over the summer, a kid in my Italian class actually asked what the Italian word for 'pizza' was the other day. I'll give you a minute to digest that.

Impossible, right? Come se dice retard?

Advice for gays: I'm with you now. Let Brian and I handle the convincing everyone that gay marriage is awesome. The rest of you get busy fundraising. We don't work cheap.