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| ENTER my Kingdom of Wit... |
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| I loathe Perez Hilton! Click here to find out WHY!? |
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Today I was named "Scab of the Year" by the Writer's Guild of America. I considered it a compliment, but wondered how they knew I got scabies from that Castro District Motel 'Cot and Stomp'. But no one texted, e-mailed or considered to tell me we were going on STRIKE. Even my assistant Shoshanna who has access to my Sabbath courier pigeon did nothing. So, unknowingly, I went ahead with my scheduled meetings via my Armani Blackberry Pearl.
Imagine this. Me elated. I had just signed a multi-million dollar deal with Paramount Classics for my scripted romantic comedy, "Alkoholika". I was sooo ectastic I did one of those jumping side click kicks, and was pleasantly pleased with my soft landing.
But upon arrival at the Paramount Studio gates I was mobbed by striking union writers. They shouted defamatory remarks, hurled tomatoes at my abdomen, and, to really piss me off shot a poisoned arrow through the rib cage of my beloved Pomeranian, Shue-Shue.
Aaron Sorkin pulled on my ascot and screamed: " 'My name is Jessica Hodges, and I'm in the third grade, and this is my question: What's your favorite part about being President?' Bartlet replies. 'I'm doing it right now.' I wrote that!"
I was quick to blame. "You killed Shue-Shue for that wickedly witty, fast-paced sentimental dialogue?!" Sorkin replied, "No, Boo, you did. It's your blog. You wrote it." [Pause.] "So noted," I huffed appropriately adjusting my ascot back into its Cocolupa knot. Then Bruce Vilanch chimed in, "Panache!" for no reason.
Meanwhile, my beloved Shue-Shue lay twisted and writhing in a pool of blood. Soaking the concrete like a spilled Slurpee, and do you know what I did? I let them watch. Yes, It was tough for me, but harder for them. I held the intellectual property rights, and they could not write about it! In addition, it was my dog and my poisoned arrow.
Tomorrow I have meetings with Jeff Zucker, Sherry Lansing, Michael Lucas, Harvey Weinstein and Lorne Michaels. I'll let you know how everything goes.
Yes, my name is Beckett Boo, Esq. and I'm an opportunist.
Amen.
Beckett Boo, Esq.
Cat Entertainment Blogger Extraordinaire!
www.myspace.com/beckettboo
www.beckettboo.blogspot.com
www.beckettboo.com
SIDENOTE: BECKETT BOO, ESQ. SUPPORTS THE WRITERS GUILD OF AMERICA STRIKE. THIS BLOG IS NOT FOR SALE. |
| What The Hell Are They Singing? #1 |
| Eartha Kitt sings "I Love Men", and yes there is a locker room shower scene. Enjoy! |
| Britney Spears and the Celebrity Child Cellar |
 Today in my redleaf rose garden I o'erheard private gossip betwixt two serfs that the phenomenal actress of one of my favorite films "Crossroads", Britney Spears, has ventured into mainstream pop music with her debut album, "Blackout".
I first met Britney on December 2nd, 1991. I was a young 165. She was twelve seconds old. Yes, I was there watching her dramatic entrance into the world via the birthing canal of Lynne Spears. How Lynne fit a baby, a hot pink party wig and a Mercedes Benz up there is beyond my comprehension. But there is no doubt. I was there. In fact, the Mercedes Benz hit me upon exit. I sued, and we signed the papers saying I would own Britney's first born. Ron Spears. The one no one speaks of - except me. Even my assistants, Shoshanna and Manuel, do not have access to my celebrity child cellar. I love Ronald - and all my celeb first borns. We are starting a softball team in the winter. So no one sees us.
Despite the settlement animosity Lynne made me Britney's Godfather (so I get 30% of all profits) and I secretly reign as the Spears' holiday bash Santa Claus. Jaime-Lynn confessed to wanting her sisters career for Xmas. I said, "I'm a jew, but come back and see me when you f**k some of that baby fat off." Jaime-Lynn ran away crying while the elfish midget photographer and I snickered. We always quote lines from the cult classic "Showgirls" to videotape the children's reactions. You should have seen when I exclaimed to her brother Bryan, "I use to love doggy chow!" But, he understood and replied, "I use to love doggy chow too!" Then we acted out the hospital scene after Nomi Malone pushes Crystal Conners down the staircase. Bryan Spears is a great kid. I'd exchange Ronald for Bryan anyday.
But, Britney will always be the star of the Spears family. From her sassy teen spirit on the "The Mickey Mouse Club", to her comical turn as a closeted lesbian Christian on "Will & Grace" and her stirring revelations in "Fahrenheit 9/11" Britney has been a true leader of Artistic independence. I wish her nothing but goodwill on her debut album. I encourage everyone to purchase it. If not for Britney and her family, but for my 30% profit.
Amen.
Beckett Boo, Esq. Cat Entertainement Blogger Extraordinaire! www.beckettboo.com |
Joyce DeWitt "Three's Company"
Joyce Anne DeWitt is a crazy American actress perhaps most famous for her role as Janet Wood on the television situation comedy Three's Company. She does autograph shows and last appeared on the hit Reality TV show "America's Next Producer". No need to tell you what she's up to because she tells you herself at her 70's chic, designer website www.joycedewitt.com. She could use a new hair style, but I love her. More than I love Chrissy! She's an avid pant hose wearer, and dated LeVar Burton.
Lee Majors "The Fall Guy and 6 Million Dollar Man"
Lee Majors, birth name Harvey Lee Yueary, is an American actor, primarily known for his roles in movies, sitcoms and television who also starred in four long-running ABC TV series over four decades, retiring in 1986. Around the time you were born. He holds the Guiness Book of World's Record Titles for worst male birth name and best screen/porn name.
Jodie Foster "Moi, Fluer Bleue"
Alicia Christian Foster. better known as Jodie Foster, is a two-time Academy Award-winning American actress, director, French recording artist and producer. She has also won two Golden Globes, 3 BAFTA awards and a Screen Actors Guild Award, making her one of the few select actors to have won all four major motion picture acting awards. Ooops, she's still around. Note to self: Call Jodie.
Amen.
Beckett Boo, Esq.
Cat Entertainment Blogger Extraordinaire!
www.beckettboo.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/beckettboo
www.beckettboo.com |
| Music Review: Radiohead "In Rainbows" |
 The lyrics stain around the notes in repetition like a Gertrude Stein poem, dangerously subtle and unassuming. With a sound quality that would make Alexander Graham Bell’s old rusty gramophone blush Radiohead’s new album "In Rainbows" reminds the individual that our generation has gotten too old for psychedelic mushrooms. Produced by Nigel Godrich the introspective beats and poppycock lyrics sober your nerves while your car stereo suffers from its weak shriveled sound system like a cold wet penis. The music is so avant-garde I wear a hockey mask, and attempt eating risotto soy porridge with a plastic spork. It's cathartic. "Arpeggi" and "House of Cards" are among the classics of the bunch. The college boys will say they love it, but secretly don’t understand it. The Elite will play it at ballet class for their three year olds, and Suzanne Vega will probably do an acoustic cover of "Nude".
I love "In Rainbows", and give it a whopping four Mint Juleps out of five. The last one, I drank.
Ironically, I drank it at a gay speakeasy called, In Rainbows. Manhattan 22nd and 8th Avenue. October 12th Midnight. I was in the pumpkin camisole. You wore hazel khakis. Call.
The Radiohead guys are so rich they are giving away this album for free. I was never a Radiohead fan until my college days at Wharton when I first heard "OK Computer". I lost my virginity to the stinging love anthem, "Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box". I’ll spare the details, and specific orifice.
Thom Yorke had the privilege of a rare sit down interview with me at the Four Seasons Beverly Hills:
Beckett Boo esq.: So what’s wrong with the eye? Thom: Droopy lid. Beckett Boo Esq.: So, I hear you have a free new album coming out? Thom: Yea, it’s called “In Rainbows”. It’s a pay what can you can situation. Beckett Boo Esq.: Is it tax-write-off-able? Thom: I don't know U.S. tax law. I’m British. Beckett Boo, esq.: That’s explains the mumbling. Continue - tax law? Thom: Uh – uh don’t know, but its probably a tax write-off for wealthy Americans with income over $200,000.
[He turns to guitarist Colin Greenwood and they toast with recycled plastic bottles of Volvic water.]
Beckett Boo esq.: You like to get political don’t you? Thom: I’m just calling them as I see them, bloke. Beckett Boo Esq.: Is it true that “Creep” was written in the men’s toilet at your alma mater Exeter University? Thom: I thoroughly deny that in my autobiography. Beckett Boo Esq.: Wikipedia says its true. But we’ll talk more about that “off the record”. Thom: No. We won’t. Beckett Boo Esq.: Why does it take three times alone in your car to understand a Radiohead album? Thom: That might be your experience, but I can’t speak from an objective point of view. Beckett Boo Esq.: The eye thing is creepin’ me. No pun intended. Thom: No problem. You're having an emotional response to something that isn't normal for you. Beckett Boo Esq.: So do you have anymore questions for me? Thom: I didn't ask you any questions. Beckett Boo, Esq.: Touche.
[End of interview.]
Amen.
Beckett Boo, Esq. Beckett Boo, Esq. Cat Entertainment Blogger Extraordinaire! www.beckettboo.com
RADIOHEAD "IN RAINBOWS" Four Mint Juleps Out Of Five |
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| Better Than PerezHilton, and THINNER! |
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| The Truth About Penny Lohan |
Today I despise Dina Lohan.
Dina and I go way back to summer camp. 1985.
I was a counselor at an unspecified government facility and Dina Lohan was my counselee. Dina told me things I could never say, by law, if they hadn't taken away my f***king Psychology license. But, I can shout them now!
She made a move on me. She used my love of Sweet & Low and told me there was an even sweeter tasting artificial sweetener except this one you snort up your nose. She was right. I lost 8 lbs. that night, and if you don't know what "lbs." is you shouldn't be reading this blog. She seduced me, and we did "it" despite the fact that I was "bi" then, and that day the coin had flipped to "heads". I dealt with it in the most appropriate fashion I could. Medevial Armor.
We dated for a few days. Dina bitched and complained all 3 days of it! I couldn't take it. She was speaking so fast that I thought it was Portugese. I am fluent in Portugese, so I misunderstood a lot of what she was saying, but I did hear her say, "I'm pregnant."
I said "Kill it. I'm too young to be wasting my time on babies. For goodness sake, Dina, we did it because of the Meth, and that's not a way to force a man into having a child!"
She threw a sucker punch at me, but my bodyguard Tonraq deflected with a elbow jab to her larynx. So, we broke up, and she met some convict, and had some more babies.
But I'm forced to know deep down, "Lindsay's" mine. I'm not saying anything publicly because I really don't care. She just taking up too much of my Press. I'm not going Larry Birkhead or anything. I don't want this on my resume. Nor my biography that's why I am settling this old score on this private blog. Plus I have 38 other children...
But the rest of this blog is for "Lindsay":
Dear "Lindsay":
It's me. Your true father, Beckett. First, lease change your first name. Your mother has a history of naming children poorly. I had no say. I am sorry. It's tough being the popular girl with such a lousy first name. These are my choices, daughter: Leighanna, Vianca, Lajita, Akeldama, Jezebel or Penny. If you had a unique name you wouldn't have to overcompensate. I'm not scolding you. Trust me, Penny, I've had my nostrils sewn together a couple times now. But, when you have this much blackmail over Hollywood I get great doctors.
[Stay with me this far "LIndsay". Almost done. No sleepy, yet.]
So, to recap, ditch the name. Keep in touch with Dina, but protect yourself from her "Peter Pan Syndrome". Don't call me, or that Michael guy. He's a patsy, and I don't really care. Go to acting school, or call my friend Hugh Hefner (323) 555-3187 at the Playboy Mansion - he'll hook you. But have a good life. Take better care of yourself. Don't blame anyone, but yourself and your publicist. Call Ken Sunshine. If he'll see you.
Also, your Mother was never a "Rockette" for Radio City Music Hall. Unless you call being a "Rockette" being the top call girl at Bling Bling's in Astoria, Queens. Your Mother has exaggerated that story for yeeeeeeeeears. Just like I brag about have four Bentley's on my episode of "Cribs". I only own two. The other's were borrowed from Ice T. There I said it. Let's ALL join a 12 Step-program.
You can just rest on your laurels, or you can be a woman and pull "an Angelina". Pay for Ken Sunshine. Whatever the cost. Look what he did for Leo, and Leo was a huge X-head.
There's a way to stay drunk and still make it look dignified.
Fix it, Penny.
Regards,
Beckett Boo, Esq.
Cat Blogger Extraordiniare!
www.beckettboo.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/beckettboo
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| How I Made $7.75 in 22 Minutes! |
 Last night I attended the opening for Robin Thicke's new men's cologne "Thickenesse". Not a catchy title, but I don't think there are gonna be buyers anyway. I sold my stock once I noticed he was white.
All the usual suspects were in attendence: Brooke Hogan, Cheyenne, Kim Stewart, Talon, Trishelle from The Real World, Jenna McCarthy and Chamillionaire. His new copper "grilles" are atrocious. I'm a Platinum guy. Chammilionaire suggests that Copper is set to make bundles in the stock market, but doesn't seem right that a man named Chammilionaire should wear pennies for teeth. At least that's what I thought until his bodyguards pulled out Coral Blue Diamond Grilles which Chammi told me "off the record" was only for use on certain female anatomallia.
Repulsed, I retreated to the VIP room, because, yes, Chamillionaire told me all this while snacking on whitefish piccata dumplings. So, there I was curtained off from all the Z-List celebrities, and Stalkkerazzi. I was finally at peace. Me, Robin, Alan Thicke, Robin's publicist Amanda Silverman, Adam Sandler, Gabriel Macht, Don Cheadle, and Suzannne Sommers. Maybe I was drunk, but I did get along pleasantly with Suzanne. I may have offended her when I said, "VIP room? This is more like the tram tour at Universal Studios." But she laughed and half of her face jiggled and we laughed again. Then again.
I spent 22 minutes total at the party pretending to listen to a duet with Robin and Chakka Khan. It was like peeing on yourself at fat camp. I was embarrased for everyone - except for me. I'm gorgeous. Luckily I was listening to an Oprah Bookclub podcast on my strategically placed Ipod Shuffle. "Light In August" F.Y.I.
So, I left because I loathe being the "biggest celeb" at the party. I need deflection.
I sold Robin Thicke's album that was so graciously inserted into my gift bag on Ebay. I made a 5 buck profit - plus shipping and handling. I'm never really gonna mail it anyway. So...$7.75. I don't know who the Purchaser of the album was, but I hope they know Robin's white.
Beckett Boo, esq. Cat Blogger Extraordiniare! www.beckettboo.blogspot.com www.myspace.com/beckettboo |
Today I was, finally, released from rehab. Thanks to all the well wishers who, adoringly, have written and sent discreet packages of "legal" substances to get me through these rugged six (6) months.
In rehabilitation, with my anonymous friends L. Lohan, C. Love, M. Jacobs, H. Joel Osment, E. Van Halen, R. Williams, K. Urban, T. Haggard, M. Barton's sister Hania (oops-named her), I. Washington, and Ms. B. Spears we were forced to watch all 10 seasons of "The View". I've had enough of Joy Behar's Comedy Corner to last me 9 lifetimes. In fact, it caused my friend Britney to jump the gates and shave her head in the San Fernando Valley. That was around the time we got to Season 4 - The Lisa Ling Days.
These days the air smells significantly sweeter, but life is tedious and remarkably boring. I miss my opium infused Mint Julips and my crack dealer, Rajj. But, I have noticed positive changes in my day to day life since my release. For instance, I've read the first 30 pages of about 200 books. I use an escalator instead of an elevator. I tie my own ascot. I like running around nude in the sprinklers. I eat pork chops. My penis grew 14 inches, and I suddenly feel things...like "feelings".
I did miss a lot being away from the news media for so long. I can't wait to eat lunch with the Beckhams and get my face back in the tabloids. I don't care what they say about me I just miss being in the press. Although, if PerezHilton "outs" me I swear I will shoot him with a Super-Soaker full of Cat Urine. Mine glows under a blacklight, so I'll make sure it happens at Club Stereo or Hyde. I'm starting to run out of enemies because now people have all this sudden sympathy for me, so I have made PerezHilton target and Plus-Size enemy #1.
The first thing I did upon my release was call Shoshanna. Shoshanna, as many of you already know, was my assistant that I fired after she forced my grandmother, Heidi Klum, to enter me into rehab. I understand now why Shoshanna did what Shoshanna did - and if you reading this blog aloud it must be fun to have said Shoshanna as many times as I have written thus far. Shoshanna was hired as my "Yes" woman. My Howard K. Stern, if you will, and when she said "No" to my request for a featherbed cot and a bottle of oxycontin I was forced, by terms of her employment contract, to let...her...go. She quickly found employment with my ex-"wife", Michelle Rodriguez. But when I phoned Shoshanna she immediately left Michelle at some bar named after Frida Kahlo, and wisked me away from my isolation.
Shoshanna has since received a raise. Largely in part for her participation in my soul's renewal, but also because when I returned to my estate there was the featherbed cot, a Mint Julep, and a freshly filled bottle of oxycontin. Shoshanna, apparently, had had enough of Ms. Rodriguez, as I did during her Sapphic beginnings. Like I've always said, "Too much vagina is - repulsive."
So, I'm home.
Content.
Resolute - and resting comfortably on a listless cloud of vapid emptiness.
Shoshanna shall receive medical benefits, and I will re-instate her green card.
I now have my comfortable life back, and my "Yes" woman.
It's good to be home...wherever the hell I am.
Always Yours - well not always,
Beckett Boo, esq. Cat Blogger Extraordinaire! www.myspace.com/beckettboo www.beckettboo.blogspot.com
WWW.BECKETTBOO.COM |
| Beckett Boo's Apple Brownie Surprise |
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| My Quinceanera! |
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| E-MAIL ME HERE! |
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| G*dammit Miley F**king Cyrus |
I was present at all of Streisand’s Farewell Tours, sang a duet of “Say, Say, Say” with Michael Jackson in Budapest, sat Luxury VIP at Justin’s Futuresex Lovesounds Tour, rode motor bikes across the country with Eddie Vedder and Sean Penn, had a recurring role on The West Wing, won three Oscars, wrote the bestselling autobiography “I Laugh and I Love That’s How I Stay So Fit!”, made a sex tape with Britney Spears and Kevin Federline (he was on bottom) and I STILL can’t get tickets for f**cking HANNAH MONTANA!
My adopted Anguillan son, Absolam, would be so thankful if some kind, generous, supportive individual would donate a ticket to my sickly, adopted, wretched child. One ticket will do. Absolam can go with the Ritchie’s and play with Rocco and David Banda. I’ll get seaweed facials with Lola, and Zahara. Ooops – mixing up the bastards and adoptees, again.
But the question remains. Out of the billions and trillions of VIP events that I have attended and presided over why the f**ck can I NOT GET A F**KING TICKET TO THE F**KING HANNAH F**CKING MONTANA CONCERT!
[Brief pause. Throws Baby Phat Sunglasses against glass cubed wall.
Glasses shatter - upon Glass.]
Incidentally, my assistant, Shoshanna has just whispered to me, that I am the current owner the Staples Center wherein the concert is to be performed. I, apparently, have a private reserved box.
So, now I am forced to cancel the show.
If I have to go, Absolam will not.
SIDENOTE: Our Publicity Department Thank The Good People at DEFAMER.COM and THE WOW REPORT For Their Collegiate Coverage Of The Official Website BECKETTBOO.COM.
Amen. Beckett Boo, esquire ® Cat Blogger Extraordinaire! ™ www.myspace.com/beckettboo
WWW.BECKETTBOO.COM THE GREATEST BLOG YOU NEVER WROTE! OFFICIAL NEMISES OF PEREZ HILTON! BETTER THAN PEREZ, AND THINNER!
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| Slacks, Pants and a Papsmear |
Here is a short list of cringe worthy words:
Moist
Squat
Crouch/Crotch
Slacks
Pant
Pants
Panties
Pantsuit
Sedan
Satchel
Puss
Nugget
Fester
Goethe
Phlegm
Lunch
Harry Potter words (i.e. Quidditch, Horcrux, Reparo)
Fulcrum
Vulva
Blog
Travolta
Thinketh
Escrow
Papsmear
and, finally,
Napkin.
Please do not correspond with me using any of those ridiculous word. If so, you will be blacklisted...forever.
Right, Portia De Rossi?
Amen.
Beckett Boo, Esq.
Cat Blogger Extraordinaire!
www.beckettboo.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/beckettboo
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Today I ran into Perez Hilton at The Coffee Bean, literally, as he was jammed in the door. I wanted to help, but I figured it would give me more time to get out of the country with David Beckham before he "outs" him too. I smiled at him, and laughed - then wrote this. I'm still giggly.
The last time I saw Perez it was Mardi Gras '82 and we met at a Frontiers Magazine Party. He was a rent-a-twink, and I wouldn't pay 50 cents. He even tried to talk me down to a quarter, but I told I'd get all the diseases he had in the alley for free. So, we chit- chatted about "hooking" and I told him that based on the amount of time he was putting in the profit margin just wasn't worth it. My advice: Blogs. He scoffed, and I scoffed back. Then we looked up the word "scoff", and found that we meant "sneer". I told him "Fine. Here's a bit of advice then. Buy stock in Enron."
The next time I saw him was the bathroom at the WeHo Target being paid by a tranny. I pretended he was straight just to twist the knife a little deeper, and asked, "Who's your wife?" He pretended I wasn't there even though I asked him through my bullhorn. So, I let that one go.
Another time, I was doing a local access show as Perez was just starting his blogging "career". We were trapped in a thin hallway, and we knew there was no way I was getting through without a crobar and a vat of vasoline. So, I started some small talk:
- Well, Perez, here we are again. Looks like the camera adds ten pounds. - I hate myself, he replied, I hate my body, my looks, the sad way I make living ruining successful people's lives. - Boo, I whispered. - Are you mocking me, Beckett? He huffed. - No, that's my name Perez. Boo. (I whispered it because that's code to my assistant, Shoshanna, reminding me to put a restraining order placed against him.)
"Well, I took your advice Beckett," he drooled, "I'm a big blogger now. I'm gonna make millions and buy the boots out from under you!"
"Perez, darling, the boots are priceless. They were a gift from the Onassis family. This is the fur of Jackie's yak, and if you want to make your legacy as a glutton, and cancer on culture, my friend, be my guest. But they'll find a cure for you, and I'm sure you'll find it on Craig's List under M4M Antelope Valley."
Perez, aka Mario Lavandiera, fell silent. He knew he was out of his league. "Well, I gotta get to jet, Beckett!" Perez said sinking into his signature slouch. "Watch yourself, and I'll get you Beckett Boo, esq. I'm powerful." He tried to step forward to no avail.
"Well, looks like I'll have to go the other way." I responded blithely. Perez insisted on sliding past, and I had already filled my "rude-meter" for the day, so I allowed passage. Our bellies barely touched. For once, I found remorse from him. It may have been the Panda Express he seemed to be digesting. I felt a heart. I mean a hard-on. I knew what it was. I saw it on the 'Manhunter' website years ago. Politely I insisted that my wife, Pegasus, would be offended. So, it was a no-go. I'm not marrried, but I had just seen "Clash of the Titans" that day, and a young Harry Hamlin was on my mind.
So, I had Shoshanna prepare me a bath - with Lavender, Ajax and Brillo Pads. I couldn't get the Perez Hilton moisture out of my pores. Shoshanna is good with a colonic, but no good at facials. So, I had my body rubbed down by Sven and Gorvac who do that radiation treatment thing Meryl Streep gets in "Silkwood."
The moral of the story is: Don't use your Arts Degree to sell your friends and fellow Artists short by "outing them" and damaging the mystique of the characters and stories they are telling. If you do you'll make a lot of money, but you'll always have rabbit teeth.
Sidenote: Watermelon is a very vaginal object. Tasty, but, remind me to tell Shoshanna never to buy watermelon again.
Amen.
Beckett Boo, esq. Cat Entertainment Blogger Extraordinaire!
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BECKETT BOO, ESQUIRE
Celebrity Cat Blogger Extraordinaire!
Born from the orphan brothels of Russia this extraordinary literary demi-god rose from the communist underground to become one of the world greatest international thinkers, poets and superstar sensations.
Beckett Boo esq. Cat Blogger Extraordinaire! The world's foremost expert on experting.
NY TIMES - "A Modern Abraham Lincoln."
TIME OUT NY- "Perez Hilton, but wittier and thinner."
SPORTS ILLUSTRATED - "Our first Male swimsuit cover model."
GOOD HOUSEKEEPING - "The best microwaved Apple Brownies." TIME MAGAZINE: Person of the Year 1967, 1971, 1987, 1994, 1999, 2006 PEOPLE'S MAGAZINE'S SEXIEST MAN ALIVE: Lifetime Achievement Award
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| Catch me I'm fallin'! |
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Questions? Complaints? Realizations from God?
E-mail Me @ beckettboo@gmail.com |
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Preheat Oven to 350 degrees.
