Oh dear sweet Martha Stewart. I know there are people out there who love your magazines, your cookbooks, your television show, and especially when you make people drink cocktails at nine in the morning and flirt with any male guest you get.
I, however, am one of those people who don't care for you, even though there are some who think you're the cat's perfectly laundered pajamas.
But think about it: you're very highly perfection-oriented; people do your bidding; you say you MEAN well but sometimes you probably threaten people with scissors; you have a "record", and we all know you are not human.
What is there to like about you other then the awesome braids and tattoo you picked up in the slammer. (Which bytheway, you often refer to as "Yale". Can anyone else say 'denial' for me please?)
So, even though its the holidays Martha- I'm going to have to withhold all of my "O tidings of comfort and joy's" and "have yourself a merry little Christmas now's" and replace them with
"Put this in your corn cob pipe Martha and smoke it!"
When you can convince a puppy to hang out with you and join in your holiday cheer without being doped with Benedryl and suspiciously smelling of cinnamon and eggnog--- call me. Then we can talk about how Santa Claus gave you your Christmas wish and made you "a real girl ".
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