Wrinkles Like Gashes

February. That's better.

I run my marathon in twelve days. After that, I'm going train to become an alcoholic. A classy one, though. I'll only drink clear liquor, and only in a delicate crystal cocktail glass. And I won't hide my liquor anywhere nasty, like behind the toilet. I'll leave it nestled amongst only the finest silks, in my drawer of undies.

Alcoholic Lindsay already sounds way cooler than Regular Old Grandma Lindsay.

I want to start posting pictures here, but I don't know how to. Help.

Watch this awesomeness.

Ben's brother's band is playing at the Austin City Limits Festival, which means after three years we will finally be granted backstage passes! Don't worry, I'm starting a list of Things Not To Do In Order to Maintain Your Street Cred:

1. Don't scream "Enjoy your bus!" at Ryan Adams as he is boarding said bus. (Ben totally did this.)

2. Don't edge as far out on stage as you can in order to make the audience jealous. (Ben is totally going to do this.)

3. Don't scream, "Freebird!" in an effort to be ironic, because that joke Officially Sucks.

Any other suggestions are greatly appreciated.

I'd like to end this Useless Entry by posing this question: Teri Polo: Manface?