At long last, summer's over. I hope the change in seasons brings you renewed vigor and hope, pretty leaves and sunsets, and yummy treats.
JT bought this for me. Its weirdness beckons a review. Hammond's Chicken and Waffle with syrup chocolate bar. I mean, what the heck? Let's pack everything for a full meal into a little chocolate bar. We both tried it and . . .
We both failed to detect the chicken, or the waffle, or the syrup. It was salty, a salty and crispy chocolate bar. It contains chicken soup mix and vanilla wafer cookies. Let me break it down for you: It's bad. Don't try it, my Sillies. I'd give it a 1 out of 10.
Now let's talk Clint Eastwood. Remember him? The hot studly man who's made 40+ movies. He's 91 now. And because I - gosh, golly - love JT, I agreed to see Cry Macho with him. It's Eastwood's latest flick. Let me break that one down for you, my Sillies: It's really bad.
But Eastwood's sincerity and compassion still shine. He's still got it, depending upon how far we stretch the definition of "it." I mean, those seductive scenes with hot women half his age - way too awkward. The acting and plot are far from believable. But I gotta give him credit for being 91 and still kicking (and punching and alluring women half his age). So if you want to see this one, keep your expectations low. JT (dis)liked it equally.
As you gathered, the guy and I are still going and going strong. He's a cutie, right? In fact, a bit Eastwood-esq, would you say? I'm still holding my breath. It'll be 4-months soon . . .
Pretty sure I nabbed a good one this time. Finally.
I love you, Sillies.