Got some pictures of Jenna kickin' it at my parents' house in Columbus last weekend. Regrettably, I can't post video on here or you'd get to see Jenna rolling around in the monkey grass and rocketing back and forth across the back yard at top speed.
Here's Jenna chilling with moms on Friday night.
The next morning, Jenna meets Carrie the cat on the back patio, and the standoff begins.
First Jenna does, uh, what dogs typically do. (I guess this is the equivalent of sumo wrestlers bowing to each other before a match.)
More sniffing, and Carrie's like, "Man, what the f$#!."
Jenna assumes the Crouching Tiger position and prepares to pounce . . .
But finally Carrie's like "Whatever, dude," and retreats beneath the patio furniture.
Eventually Jenna decides that annoying the crap out of cats is hard work, and crashes out on the couch.
You've spent so many years defending your heterosexuality, yet now you're a single guy in his late 20s posting pictures of your dog on the Internet, and no doubt later giving us your Friday Random 10 filled with Pet Shop Boys.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Is this retaliation for my having questioned why you were paying so much attention to Paul Walker on the "Into the Blue" poster instead of Jessica Alba?
If so, my apologies.
Which one is "moms" ?
Josh, by that criteria, *I'm* not gayer than Doug.
Okay, you can talk shit about me, my politics, my religion, my taste in music, my job, my spelling, whatever - I put myself out here for it, and I'm a big girl and I can handle it. But if you want to talk shit about my mother, I will track you down, I will do things to you that are horrible beyond the darkest depths of your imagination, I will videotape it and I will send it to your parents. Off. Limits.
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