Okay, I’m over the Charlie Sheen thing.
It was fun for a while, but I think we can all let it go now. I’ve had my fill of jokes about tiger blood, warlocks, and porn goddesses. I’m over the Charlie shirts, the Charlie mugs, and the Charlie memes.
I’ve long endured the sad attempts at jokes in my Facebook mini-feed since his little radio tour of crazy. I officially hit my limit yesterday at work. I was working with a few other Executive Assistants on a scheduling a meeting between some very difficult and busy folks. We had gone round and round and had no options until yesterday something finally worked out. And suddenly, what started as a very professional, cordial, and well-written email trail went awry with this Charlie Bomb in my inbox:
Wow. Just wow. That really happened.
You know, I’m beginning to hate the phrase “winning!” as much as I hate “LOVE IT!!!” – and that’s a strong, fierce hate, my friends.
Charlie Sheen has officially invaded every area of my waking life. I think it’s time to stop. Let’s just all agree to not be amused anymore. I’ll start us off by blazing the trail into sensibility.
After all, do we really want to sensationalize someone who’s best role was when he was 21 years old in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?
Think about it. ♣
P90X Update: 14/90 days complete. I only did half the Kenpo DVD last night. I’m a big loser. What do I have to do to make it up? Run? Maybe I’ll run today. Sigh.