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| Ronan (formerly Satchel) and mom Mia |
... tells me you might definitely be the son of Ol' Blue Eyes, not the son of Woody. No DNA test required on this one. The resemblance is remarkable.
Why am I so obsessed with this bombshell? I'm so glad you asked. It transports me out of my mundane life. What could be more fun than picturing this unlikely love triangle: a short, bespectacled nebbish, a hot tempered crooner, and an actress famous for one of the worst hairstyles ever. I can't think of a worse hairstyle than this one, and I've spent time on it. What's that? Shallow? How dare you. Just because I focus on the superficial details doesn't mean I'm not capable of pithier commentary. I can be plenty pithy. You want an example? Fine. Last night, I put my obsessing on hold, dug a little deeper into my soul, and took time to briefly, not to mention concisely, reassure hubby. "Don't worry, honey. The boys are yours, not Frank Sinatra's." He seemed relieved.
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