God, you are an awesome God.

God:

You are an Awesome God.

As such, I know that you have it within your power to switch Meredith Grey for me in the McDreamy McVet threesome scene.

Only, I wouldn't be a whiny, anorexic, blank-faced girl. I'd be whiny, hairy, charming, old me with my Cheshire cat grin.

I'm not asking that much, am I, Lord? Just to have a lifelong relationship with both Chris O'Donnell and Patrick Dempsey in Seattle? It fits in quite nicely with my long-term plans. Seattle, and a scruffily adorable man who wears black sweaters over blue buttondowns and peacoats, like I used to? And Seattle, and a scruffy guy that wears sweaters and courderoys?

I'll even give something up: You can keep McSteamy. Oh, sure he's a manly MANLY man, but I don't need my guys to be Alphadogs. Passably straight. That's all I need.

Well, I know you have a lot of things to be doing, but just think about it, kay? We can strike some sort of deal where I make the world a better place -- hell if you want to hit me with some amazing idea that I can actually implement, I'd be thrilled to invent something to benefit humanity. Just tell me what you want me to do. And I'll do it, and THEN, not only will I make the world a better place, but I'll also have a dysfunctional, but extremely handsome relationship...

Think about it. Let me know.

Amein.

Karu-and-Y? Because it won't.

I've gone here twice now. The first time I went I was dazzled. The second time I went it had already gotten sort of old.

This place is a monument to most of the things I hate about Miami - droll, bored coolness and outlandish prices. It's too cool for its own good.

And...the food's not all that amazing. It's... weird. And I'm down with weird, weird good. But I draw the line at duck pancetta with spanish sheep's cheese, quince paste and some...gelatinous coating, on a stick. Because it tastes like corpse.

Twenty five million dollars is a LOT of money. It's even more, when you consider what a warzone the restaurant is in. It's in the middle of a bona fide crack den. With crazy, foaming crack addicts.

While the waitstaff is HOT (so hot), eh. I wonder how this place is going to turn a profit. At all. Yeah, it'll get a boost from Art Basel, because the artistic types are down with cruising through combat zones to get to galleries, and they'll be willing to shell out cash and bleed money at this place for two weeks. But the average tourist from Michigan isn't. And even all the New York tourists -- it's one thing to cross the causeway to get to Pawnshop. It's quite another thing to have to navegate what feels like a videogame of bums.

As for the 20,000 condominium units going up "in the area in a year" hah. Good luck with that. Most of them were bought on speculation, and now that the market has taken a downturn, I'd say a large chunk will go into foreclosure. I wonder how many of those units will actually be occupied. Lord knows my house has been on the market since July and hasn't sold... and I'm in a prime spot.

I really hate hoping that this place goes down before it even opens... but I do. I want to see some people really lose their shirts with this venture. And until that happens, I want to go... occasionally... for what is certain to be an exhorbitantly expensive night out. Except I want to go to the VIP area. I'm tired of the bar already with its "plasmascreen display..." I've been there twice, and it's already... eh. Call me jaded. It's just not that much fun. Cool. But not fun.

They bury those little Amish girls today... and one tomorrow.

I if hell doesn't exist, I hope God creates one for that guy who killed them. Or at least I hope he revokes his "afterlife" privileges, and that guy just ceases to exist.

Maybe it's a stereotype, but I, for the life of me, cannot think of anything more innocent than a little Amish girl. They're on par with baby bunnies, baby deer and Easter chicks. Or maybe a baby Bushbaby

::sigh::