It's delightfully official. I am one of the many women absolutely gaga for Mr. Dirty Jobs, himself, Mike Rowe.
That's what this whole blog is dedicated to: my confirmation that, should Mr. Rowe walk into my life and demand I love him until the end of time, I would with only two stipulations: 1) he must always talk to me with the same voice he uses on Dirty Jobs and 2) he can never wear a shirt.
That's what this whole blog is dedicated to: my confirmation that, should Mr. Rowe walk into my life and demand I love him until the end of time, I would with only two stipulations: 1) he must always talk to me with the same voice he uses on Dirty Jobs and 2) he can never wear a shirt.
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