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famous people with migraines

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Q: This HAS to be the ULTIMATE proof that MEGAN FOX is the Dumbest Bit¢h Actress THERE IS!!!?
first… although she has starred in Transformers, she has never seen the movie… NOR does she understand it!!
and she thinks that whoever only sees the movie and understands it… is a GENIUS!!!

she is totally retarded!! i dont know why she is famous… oh yeah, because she’s HOT… that’s it.
megan please stop opening your mouth to make yourself look like a dumb ass!!! lol

QUOTE:
Megan – who recently reunited with her on/off boyfriend Brian Austin Green – also revealed she doesn’t “understand” ‘Transformers’, even though she has starred in both films.

She explained to TV programme ‘The Early Show’: “I usually don’t watch things that I do because I’m very neurotic about it and I can’t sit through it. But I had to watch this one because everyone was saying ‘Megan, it’s really good, you have to watch it.’

“It’s massive. I don’t know how people can see it on IMAX without having a brain aneurism or at least a migraine headache. I’m in the movie and I read the script and I still don’t know what’s happening so I think if you haven’t read the script and you see it and you understand it you are a genius.”

reference:

http://ca.lifestyle.yahoo.com/fashion-beauty/articles/archive/bang/megan-fox-s-tattoo-ultimatum-2009-07-01

A: lol although that is true that she’s STUPID for opening her mouth to speak crap… she’s hot that’s why she’s famous!!
but she sure is dumb!!

Q: Will you Proof read my paper?
It’s not my best, a little creative writing piece

Every now and then, the question comes up. It’s unavoidable. Normal people just throw it around, in the most casual conversations. What do you think of this weather? I love this snow. Are those new shoes? Yeah, I just got them, thanks for noticing. How’s your family? And that’s when the lies begin. I’ve told them so many times I almost believe them. They’re doing great, I say. Your mother? They ask. Fine, she really enjoys her classes this semester. Your father? Amazing. His firm just won a major case. Last they ask: how’s your brother? I tell them I don’t have a brother. Maybe you’re thinking of someone else? Yeah that’s probably it.
The truth is my mother sold her art studio seven years ago. I don’t think she’s left the house in five. My father lost his job at the firm when it became impossible to hide the whiskey on his breath. And I do have a brother. His name is Chris. The last time I saw him he was on CNN, being lead out of a courtroom in shackles. This very public little stunt of his made it impossible for me to get a job. Our last name, Prezlocki, isn’t exactly Smith. At every interview the human resources lady would ask “Prezlocki? Like Christopher Prezlocki?” and that was my cue to pack up my brief case, shake her hand, and head for the hills. After seven or eight interviews ending like that, I changed my name to Gavin Kelly and moved to Seattle.
I got job with a computer company and I hadn’t thought about my life back in Green Hills for years. But last Monday I was flipping through the channels and I saw E! Special on the 15 most shocking acts of violence. Faces of famous murders flashed across the screen. As much as I had tried to forget him, as soon as I saw his face it all came rushing back. I grabbed the clicker and froze the image. I heard my wife complaining, griping at me to give her the clicker back, but I ignored her. The memories I had pushed back for so long slammed into my head. I handed her the clicker, told her I had a migraine, and stumbled back to our room. I dug around in the closet until I found a brown shoe box.
The box itself was insignificant, the cardboard was peeling and the red Nike symbol had faded to a strange orange. I pulled back the lid and stared into the box and an old newspaper clipping stared back at me. “Green Hill Killer Caught- Three Women Still Missing.” I pushed it aside and started digging. Those weren’t the memories I was looking for. I found it at the very bottom, where I knew it would be. It was a stack of old picture of me and Chris.
The date scribbled on the first one I picked up said I was four and he was ten. I smiled a little. I remember that day perfectly. It was late November and Chris and I had gone exploring in the woods, it was just us two kids and a lunch pail, like something from a Rockwell piece. I twisted my ankle on a tree root and he carried me home. I wouldn’t stop crying so he started telling me stories about faeries and trolls. When we got home I told my mom Chris had bravely rescued me from a bear. That’s when she took a picture of her two cutie pies, and gave us hot coco.
The next one was of us playing in his room. He looked like he was about sixteen, so I must have been ten. I think he took the picture using the camera timer because mom didn’t think he was so cute any more and stopped taking pictures when he was doing “abnormal” things. We were wearing tin hats and I was trying to fight off the aliens Chris said were invading. Looking back that should have been a warning sign. It wasn’t a game to him, and the transponder he was building wasn’t pretend.
There was one of him picking my up from school. He was chatting with my teacher Mr. Kohl about something and I was looking very bored. I smirked to myself and thought about school. Green Hill is epitome of a small town and every teacher I ever had taught six years earlier. That was back when “are you Christopher Prezlocki’s little brother?” had been a good thing. I was always jealous of Chris when it came to school. He’s smart and I’m not. Guess that’s why he got away with it for so long.
The final picture was the last family picture we ever took. It was the night before he left for MIT. I remember feeling sad, but I think my parents were relived. He wasn’t their problem any more. It was hard to say goodbye to my big brother, but shortly after he left I found girls, and friend, and football. Hanging out with other people made me realize how off Chris was and I almost completely stopped talking to him. I think that’s why I blame myself. Maybe if I had been a better brother he wouldn’t have done those things, all those women would still be alive.
I heard my wife walking down the hall and I quickly shoved the box back into the closet. She doesn’t know about my past, and if I can help it she never will. Chris is sentenced to die next year. Maybe I should get in touch with him sometime. But what good would it do? Beside

A: That is a good start…maybe some more about how husband/wife met. The into paragraph is great with the questions that people ask…it was very insightful. Good work!

Best wishes!

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