It's hard out here for a pimp

John Stewart was the best Oscar host ever. He needs to have a similarly smart and funny but less famous and unmarried younger brother. I was feeling the pressure change in my head all day so I ended up staying home to watch the Oscars. I made sure to call my bother when March of the Penguins won because it is one of his new favorite movies ever. ("Jill, there are two things I take very seriously in life: soccer and penguins.") Freud made sure to start whining to go out right before they announced every important award, and I managed to burn my finger on the oven while taking out my pizza quite early in the evening. Even though I got cold water on it almost immediately, it still blistered and hurts like a mother. I put snow in a plastic baggy because I had no ice in my freezer and now I'm alternating between ice baggies, frozen pizza, and frozen steaks while smearing After-Burn gel all over the damn thing.

Ask me about my new Mr. Aaron dilemma. I don't want to post it on here due to paranoia, but I'd love to get any and all friends' opinions.