Benedict Cumberbatch slithered seductively

Benedict Cumberbatch slithered seductively across the cold marble floor, I stared, fascinated yet slightly revolted, as Maggie Smith, in character as the Dowager Countess and nude

admired by tedious ability to pluck random names from pop culture. I went back to sleep. In the morning I decided to purge the wickedness inside me by drinking bleach

and thereby ending the non-sequitur belly-aching that my prima donna soul leaked like blood from anal fissures. Pop culture was dogmatic, but it was here to stay in spite of

PBS! Boom, shaka-boom. I said it all, to y'all. Now what? Pop Culture is dead. Oh, facial, in your face, face!

We all stood watching with our arms folded as if clutching schoolbooks we cherished. Eventually Hess, got tired and to speed things up lobbed Excalibur at Arthur. The silly stopped

After February 1, 2013. The wasted moments performed were ballatidyingly beautiful. The cats kicked a field goal to take the lead, for good.

The Cats kicked the Dogs hiney's at the trained animal Superscooper Bowl. Ronnie counted the money he'd made on the fixed bets. Although the result was prearranged,the Dogs wanted

chew-toys sent their dressing rooms as compensation. Ronnie spent all his ill-gotten gain on dog toys. When the victorious cats found out, they were livid. "We won! We should have

ALL the toys, ALL the treats, ALL the..." CHOMP. The stray pit bull ended their pathetic tirade just that quickly. Stupid cats. When will they realize? Dogs always win in the end.