Teen girl from mid-Michigan has fallen in love with a high school drop out in the West Bank. Long story short, girl falls in love on myspace, tells lies to her parents to get a passport, passport seized in Tel Aviv and she was sent home. I am not one to talk about cultivating relationships genuine or fictive, virtual or in vivo… don’t ask me how I have friends or manage to keep my Sims happy. This gal still plans on marrying this man, only three years her senior, and is willing to convert to Islam.

I tried writing some wonderful Benetton copy about the cultures and colors in Detroit… but I’m just not feeling too warm and fuzzy. There is a diverse population in Detroit, Palestinian and Israeli are no exception. Without divulging any preference of my own, these two ethnic groups can house some seriously smokin’ hot men, so I don’t blame the then sixteen year old girl. If this works out, that’s one really bitchin’ story that she can tell her kids.

Link [ via The Chicago Sun Times ]
Link [ via Detroit News ]
Link [ via the Washington Post ]

I stayed up much too late last night and did not go to bed until… well let’s just say I had less than two hours of sleep.  I rushed to get to work and I discovered, my outfit is rubbish.  Whatever possessed me to pair these shirts with this pant and shoe selection is beyond me.  My top half looks fun and young, ready for rock and roll (circa 1998); but I’m wearing heather grey dress trousers and black driving moccasins.  Losing the plaid shirt (and maybe 20 pounds) I could look like a young hip rocker in just the black graphic T-shirt, grey trousers, and black funky shoes… but it’s not corporate enough.

Had I time and mental capacity to do it over, I’d probably choose an earth-tone pant to go with the browns of my shirt thereby changing the whole black/tan dynamic, forcing a change of the shoes, watch, and necklace.  Alas, my wardrobe is thirty-five miles away and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be one of those people that wear articles of clothing out of Wal*Mart.