Just for the record:
I've eaten way too much peanut butter this week already;
I seriously cannot stand to see the face of John or Kate or their 8. Who cares about them?
I can't stop thinking about the peanut butter ice cream I had last Saturday.
I sometimes worry that I'll sleepwalk off of my bedroom balcony and then, of course, plummet.
I'm really glad American Idol is almost over with so people will stop saying the words adam, lambert, kris, and allen.
I need a tan.
