Dear Sheers:
STOP IT. I’M OVER IT. I’m so far over it that I’m actually down underneath it getting ready to climb up a fireman’s pole so that I can be over it AGAIN and then slide down and land on it and crush it to bits and then dance on its remains while guzzling Diet Coke and throwing sandwiches around like confetti. And then, in addition to being vanquished, you’ll be responsible for a lot of sad, lonely sandwiches no one can eat because they landed on the ground. CAN YOU LIVE WITH THAT? OF COURSE YOU CAN’T. So please go and hide for a bit.
Much obliged,
Heather
[Photo: FameFlynet]
