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Tall, sandy blonde, with sort of blue eyes, skinny in places, fat in others. An average gal.
Eric Schmidt looks innocent enough, with his watercolor blue eyes and his tiny office full of toys and his Google campus stocked with volleyball courts and unlocked bikes and wheat-grass shots and cereal dispensers and Haribo Gummi Bears and heated toilet seats and herb gardens and parking lots with cords hanging to plug in electric cars.
I don't know what my appeal is. I can see I've got blue eyes and don't look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame but I can't understand the fuss.
I can't stress how much my daughter is an inspiration to stay sober. When I come home and she opens those big blue eyes at me, it's the most amazing feeling I could ever feel.
When people are infected by my charm, they don't see my size. My piercing deep blue eyes are distracting.