So unoriginal...

I was so inspired/impressed by my hubby's blog that I had to jump on the bandwagon. We'll see if this new hobby outlasts any of the previous ones (maximum duration 4 weeks). Start the clock, kids!

I haven't even figured out what this blog's "hook" will be, but am kicking around some ideas. Ok, one idea so far. I had this idea on the way to the grocery store (all my epiphanies come either in the car or on the hopper. sidenote: I've decided to refer to the toilet solely as the "hopper" from now on since I've learned that Dennis Hopper--formerly my favorite actor of all time--is a flaming Republican). But I digress--the idea:  Post extremely strange or inflammatory personal ads on various websites and publish on this blog not only the ad, but the responses to it. An example would be: "30 yr. old female looking for moderately attractive doctor or lawyer to make her a kept woman. Will cook your meals, raise your brats and occasionally suck your d*ck. Whites only." 

Or, "I want to touch people, and I want people to touch me...with pinecones. Serious inquiries only. " This one was inspired by a charmingly sweet personal ad I once saw by a gentleman with a balloon fetish. People get off on weird shit, yo.

Like I said, I'm just tossin' some ideas around. Feel free to make suggestions...

News of the Day:  It has never been muggier in the history of the world than it is right now. I should be cleaning the house and making more rice krispie treats for our cookout to benefit Kerry/Edwards tomorrow, but I've opted to sit in front of the computer instead. It's a lot cooler when you only have to move your fingers.

Speaking of the cookout, it's supposed to rain tomorrow as well. I hope to God not. I have 12 lbs. of burger and 50 hot dogs in my fridge and I'm fittin' to grill 'em, by gosh.

Strange thought of the Day: It's been a long time since we've heard a catchy pop tune about child abuse. It was all the rage at the end of the 80s. Remember "Luka?" Or "What's the Matter Here?" I'll tell ya what the matter is; the kid's gettin' the crap beat outta him. Put down your guitar and pick up the phone and call Child Protective Services, you pretentious c*nt.