Ninja Pajamas, and other good things.

My friends want me to move to Seattle. I think it may be a little too close to Canada.

Oh yeah, then there's India.

Oh yeah, I've been playing Diner Dash. It's pretty fun. If you are thinking about cracking it instead of buying it, be careful. Not that I would ever do anything remotely like that, but if I did without really paying attention, I might find my computer totally overloaded with spyware. To the point where my net connection wouldn't work. And Ayric might have to come from Seattle, and he might have to clean off like a million instances of bad things. Good thing I wouldn't do something like that, eh? There are cracks that work, but the path to them is fraught with treachery. There is no honor among theives.

So yeah, none of this makes sense or whatever, but yeah. Right.

Apple, orange, pomegranate, grape, mango, lime. Collective label: Fruit

Aspen, pine, bonsai, madrona, fir. Collective label: Tree

Nail file, scissors, gun, corkscrew, match, golf clubs, value-sized deoderant. Collective label: "Threat Object"

Yeah, I thought that was stupid, too. I saw it on the news in a reference to airline security, blah blah blah. Then I realized that is a really good euphamism.

"Then he whipped out his "threat object" and it was less like a baseball bat, and more like a match. A paper one. That got wet."

"Holy crap, that spicy mexican turned you into a threat object!"

"Don't point your threat object at me."

"If you get near my girlfriend, I might have to cut you. Like with a threat object."

Post your own! Whoopee!

Alrighty, even though some people forgot (YKWYA!!), I had a great birthday. More pics with Keri, Dan, and crew pending.

I had a breif stint as a Finger Cot Model and am famous for such as far away as Seattle.

I've discovered that most men are an incarnation of Tucker Max, or they really want to be one. I think I've dated an even more evil version of Tucker Max. This is about three days worth of good read. I've also started using "Tucker Max" in conversation a lot. "You think you are Tucker Max, don't you?" "You wish you were Tucker Max." "How very Tucker Max of you." I think most people just think I'm referring to some kind of Raoul Duke or Holden Caufield type literary character. But of course, almost no one is self confident enough to claim ignorance. But now YOU can be IN THE KNOW! Because of ME!


Of course, after a friend of mine actually met Sarah Jane at a Playboy Mansion party, and later read her description of the same party, I've come to believe that stories people post online are incredibly, incredibly overblown. Basically everything she said happened was an outright lie. But anyway, the stories are entertaining. (I can't find the blog thingie for her, but I'm not really that interested, anyway. You shouldn't be, neither)

Also entertaining is the Tard Blog. Read the FAQ first, and start with Riti's first post. You will love Augusta. Trust me. And Don't TOUCH ME!