So the word on the street is that no one likes Jack Bauer. Tell me about it. I don’t like it any more than you men. I don’t even watch 24. My ex-almost-brother-in-law, an actual crackhead, found it too hard to follow. I can eat fifty eggs. You don’t want to see what the inside of my head looks like. It’s like that Mucinex commercial, except with movie quotes hanging down like streamers. Oh, there’s one on my shoe.
A planet must be doing a thing. Quelle mysterioso. Will I finally roll over that 401(k) from 2001? That requires getting a signature from someone who ought to be in jail. I think that’s been the sticking point. Will I stop silently judging people at the grocery store? Only if I start judging them out loud instead.
Tune in tomorrow to find out how fat Jack Bauer’s mama was. Well, I will just tell you now to save you the trip. She was so fat that he had to starve her for three months in a crawl space.