Fuggis Leachman

If you had said to me a year ago, "Heather, sometime in August 2006, you will see a photograph of Cloris Leachman wearing a foot-eating boho skirt, a strange, puffy white shirt, and a belt made of strips of leather that sits Federline-low -- and she will not only look drunk, but she will be holding a keg over her head like she's about to Donkey Kong that thing through a row of frat boys," I would have smiled, told you that you looked very pretty in that outfit, and promptly delivered you to the nearest House of Bedlam, where you and your insane babble clearly would have belonged.

Of course, then I would have owed you a HUGE apology today. So it's probably for the best that you never talked to me last year about this.