Tag Archives: Jim Forman

Snowy, With A Chance of Jesus

Hello, Seattle. The news says we’re going to get between one and twelve inches of snow on Wednesday. One and twelve. That’s a hell of a range. I told my last date that she’d be getting between one and twelve inches when we got home and we never went out again, so, yeah. Good work, local meteorologists. Way to narrow it down for us.

I was at the grocery store preparing for this monstrosity earlier today. I scoured the aisles like I was on Supermarket Sweep, stockpiling all the essentials: microwaveable meals, cookies, Red Bull, string cheese. My cart was a dietician’s worst nightmare. But whatever, right? That’s why we have the Wroten Workout Plan. Unclogs the arteries. Oh, and the Red Bull was sugar free, so there’s that.

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Jen Mueller Cleavage Watch

Like two loaves of Seattle sourdough, sprinkled with yeast and baking alongside one another, Jen Mueller’s breasts evolved from their blouse of an oven and begged to be notice for the first time.

If you watched FSN’s broadcast of the Washington-Washington State game on Saturday, chances are you noticed one thing. Make that two things. Or perhaps, more accurately, the one thing that divided those two things.

With a little, “Hey, Bill Moos, how ya doin? My eyes are up here,” Mueller’s rising dough was the star of the show in Pullman.

Out of nowhere, there was immense cleavage, which as defined by Merriam-Webster is “the quality of a crystallized substance or rock splitting along definite planes.” Wait. That’s not it. Definition five: “the depression between a woman’s breasts especially when made visible by a low-cut neckline.”

And visible that depression was. Might as well have been the Great Depression.

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