Yet More Randomness

Yet More Randomness

This made me laugh. Apparently they have a new method of tracking terrorists which involves watching their actions on the internet. I'm a fan.

People keep finding my blog by typing in "Men with bubblebutts p0rn." It is both amusing and disturbing that this actually happens with some frequency. But people also find me by typing in "Chris Childs punches Kobe" and that cheers me up immensely.

I have a confession to make, I fricken did it again. I went to bed buzzed, yet full of a good meal. I messed around with the husband's lamp for awhile, but then decided my stomach was too full for a lot of movement. So I withdrew the offer. I suck. But not literally in this case, which makes it so much worse. The funny thing is, I had a really raunchy dream starring Geo the same night, so when I woke up the next morning I thought I had followed through on it. But it was just a dream. Am I a horrible wife or what.

I switched to Haloscan a few months back for commenting, so all my comments are gone from my previous service. Which means I'm planning to do yet another roll call sometime soon, in the hopes that I will get to know some of my blurkers. The blurkers ( to use Ray's word) on this blog fascinate me. Who are you people? Why do you never talk to me? Am I that untalk-to-able? I like to think that I am talk-to-able. My point is, as soon as I can think of some good questions that I haven't already used, I'll toss one up. You can only ask a person "Do you do anal" so many times after all, before they get uncomfortable. Maybe I'll just use the exact same roll call post. No one remembers the answers from the last one anyway, least of all me.

Kwame sent me a link for the Hurricane Katrina "Dine For America" campaign. The Food Whore definitely approves of this fundraising measure. There's nothing like digging into a platter of country-fried steak smothered in country-style gravy, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and garlic bread while being humanitarian and all. I mean yes, it would be better to just pour the money directly into the Red Cross, but this way I get to eat good food. And I never turn down food. No seriously, I don't. Al Gore could offer me a pastrami sandwich in the middle of a White House State dinner and I wouldn't turn it down.

I avoided taking a bath for as long as I could but finally had to give in. So I still smell like "mallow flower." Ergo, I still smell like ass. I thought throwing myself into a smoky club would cover it up, but alas, New York City banned smoking in clubs a couple of years ago. I went digging in the bathroom closet to see if I could come up with something, anything, and found an old bar of anti-bacterial cucumber-melon hand soap. Hopefully it will tide me over, because I would hate to have to go all the way to the store for one fricken bottle of soap. The "mallow flower" smells so bad I couldn't even cover it up with scented lotion.

I've been scanning some of my old posts, and tagging them because I want to eventually sort them all into categories. Would you believe I'm almost at 700 posts? Anyway, this one made me laugh. I do miss my girls in California. There's nothing like talking about sex with a group of female friends. It's no-holds-barred. You get made fun of for the people you've slept with and things you've done, but you get to dish it right back. And you get to bring up the time they banged that one guy, eight years ago, on the tree stump outside their dorm. And got caught by campus police. Hee.

It's 3 in the morning and I'm going to go eat a grilled cheese sandwich. I will regret it in the morning but I'm going to do it anyway. Like a one-night-stand, except afterwards you don't wonder what time the sandwich is going to leave.