What up, Jewel? Are you too poor to hire a competent plastic surgeon?
You can't possibly be.
I had to suffer through that damn "You Were Meant For Me" song the other day when I was getting my Pet Scan. Talk about "Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide." Oy. I couldn't move a muscle or the scan would have been ruined. I had to suffer through your music, as it played on the stereo, in a misguided effort to make the process more relaxing.
If I have to listen to the shit, you can at least spend the royalties responsibly, eh?
Update: And get your teeth fixed, too, while you're at it.
Posted by Kathy at November 9, 2007 12:47 PM | TrackBackDude. That's what I was gonna say: fix 'em teef first.
And apparently the "Smelly Cat" album (because that's what those f'n songs ALL SOUND LIKE) didn't pay off as handsomely as we thought. She can have my copy back.
Yes. I did buy it.
I was young. And gullible.
And a member of BMG. Shaddup.
Posted by: Margi at November 9, 2007 11:31 PMIf I ever get to meet Ms. Jewel, I'm determined to spend the whole time staring at her sweater puppies, because she might get self-conscious if she thinks I'm staring at her teeth.
Yeah, that's the ticket. It's because I'm all sensitive to her feelings. Riiiiiiiiight.
Posted by: Russ from Winterset at November 10, 2007 01:09 PM