Owen is so still in repose that when he laughs—and his is the loud, forceful, blow-your-hair-back kind—it’s like a jack-in-the-box. It’s exhilirating and scary when it leaps out and instantly sobering when he snaps it back in.

Details magazine, September 2007 issue, with The Clive on the cover. Isn’t it such a spot-on description of Clive Owen?! Wish I could write like this. It’s a Friday afternoon and I’m sleepy and feeling lazy to work so I’m just killing time by staring at Clive and wishing I could go down to Nail Spa for a foot spa. I’m overcome with weekend ennui—and the weekend hasn’t even started.

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My name is Terrie. I write for a living and blog for pleasure. Some days, I get up in the morning and know precisely what kind of day it is. At other times, I get knocked over for a loop. People seem to like confiding in me. When I was younger, I thought I knew everything and can tell you what you need to do if you ask me. Now that I'm older, I realize I don't know anything. That's been my motivation for the blog and for writing. To figure out the unknown and unknowable.

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