Standard Point 1: It's hot.
Standard Point 2: I really have no predetermined blog topic today so we'll just see where this goes. I'm not purposefully multitasking but at the same time I am, as I kind of have been all day just because absolutely nothing can hold my attention. I am being rendered incapable of deep thought.
People have a tendency to anthropomorphize things, (my various technological items have names, and personalities. It makes it easier to yell at them when they don't function. This is quite possibly schizophrenia in my case, but it may be universal. Humans like to blame things.) but I've never thought of planets that way. It makes sense. Pluto IS still a planet*, that cold and distant object of our Earthly lust. Everyone loves Pluto for some reason.** It's impossible not to root for the underdog. It's relatable.
I've heard of Clive Owen before but I can't really picture him... *Googling in process, please stand by*... Hm. His eyebrows are thick-ish. But I agree that being British makes up for age a bit. Or it should, because even if realistically it doesn't matter, it's still awkward to find someone the same age as your dad (or older...) attractive. It's the accent. Anything sounds sophisticated and/or sexy in a British accent. This is a proven fact.***
Arrrrgh****
That wasn't even a coherent ending to this blog, but there you go. Footnotes!
*No matter what the scientists say. What do they know?
**Again, except scientists.
***A generalized opinion of Americans, I mean. This is why it's kind of amusing to listen to British people swear, it sounds all posh but it's not...
****What was I going to put here? No idea, use your own imagination to finish the sentence, lalala.
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