Hey kid, why are you looking at that furry porn?

Here's the skinny on what I do to pay the rent: I'm an assistant copy editor with a lot of side jobs. Along with proofreading and researching all of the copy we create, I am also my boss's sole IT support, both business and personal.

My boss has two boys, a 9 y/o and a 12 y/o, who share their own desktop. Because the chance of them seeing a woman eat yogurt out of a donkey's asshole is just a google search away, my boss had me install Web Watcher on their computer; now, not only can they not access pornography, but everything they type, every email they receive, and every web site they visit (or try to visit) is recorded and available for my boss and me to see.

Or I should say, me to see. One of my work duties is to check-up on the Web Watcher and see what the boys have been viewing, and alert my boss to anything suspicious I find.

I've been pretty good about this; when I discovered that her eldest disabled the Web Watcher by stealing the password and hacking into the account, I told her. And when I found emails her eldest had been sending that sounded threatening in tone (though they really weren't - the kid just needs to brush up on his writing style), I felt as though I'd diffused a hostage situation - my boss was, and still is, eternally grateful.

But then one day, I found this (warning: NSFW!!!):


Ok, full disclosure: This is not the exact image I found on the boys' computer, but it is something like it. I got so tired of looking at furry porn (did you guys know that "Yiff" is now the common name for furry porn lovers? Well I do NOW), that I just picked something that resembled the pictures I saw.

Wow, I don't know if I can ever come back from that two-hour excursion I had on the internet trying to find the right picture. I'm sacrificing myself for you, folks (mom I hope you appreciate this!).

ANYWHOO, so yes, I found furry porn on my boss's sons computer. At first I laughed - like, wtf? Of all the things to find - no naked chicks, no guys with eight balls, no trannies blowing themselves - I found furry artwork.

I guess I had an obligation to tell my boss what I found, but guess what folks? I didn't say a goddamned thing to her! Here's why:

1. Can you imagine how horribly embarrassing that would have been for her, and more importantly, me? How would I have even approached her about this? "Hey boss, remember how you were afraid that your son was looking at naked ladies on the internet? Well don't worry, he's too preoccupied looking at weirdo art of animals with detailed genitalia to even wonder what a human woman would look like naked. TOTALLY NORMAL."

2. The kid is 12. When I was 12, I probably would have looked at the same shit too. Not because furry porn gets me hot, but when you're 12, anything related to sex piques your curiosity.

When I was in the sixth grade, I bought the Sophie B. Hawkins cd Whaler. After several weeks of owning it, I realized that if you turned the cd case upside down and squinted real hard, you could see Sophie B. Hawkins's nipple. A nipple!!! I would listen to her cd whilst staring at her nipple, because I just couldn't believe how blatantly sexual it was, AND because there I was, staring at a nipple, and my mom had no clue I was staring at a nipple. Just reading the liner notes, ma!

So really, I don't think the kid is a furry or into furries - he happened upon something on the net that was sexual in nature and wanted to see more out of curiosity, and he doesn't deserve to be humiliated and punished because of it. There's no need to worry about the pics unless he starts begging his mom to take him on a trip to Disney World.

Her son must have accessed the furry porn during that three week interval when he disabled the Web Watcher and I didn't realize it.

Should I have told my boss, guys? Even if you tell me I should have, there is no chance in hell that I will. I do have a strong work ethic and try to complete every task my boss gives to the best of my ability, but I'm sorry, I can not tell her about this - I would have to move back to Ohio from the sheer mortification.

Television "Friends" You Would Never Be Friends with in Real Life

I'm a big fan of Best Week Ever (both the blog and the show), and I previously sent them an idea for a list post, or a "listicle". A listicle details the top so-and-so of something, such as The Top Twelve Sandra Bullock Movie Titles that Could Also Describe her Recent Head-On Collision.

My idea was for them to list the Top 10 (or whatever) Television Friends You Would Never Be Friends with in Real Life. Well, I guess they're really busy right now, because they never picked up on my awesome list topic. So I have taken it upon myself to compile the douchiest and worst friends in all of television. Without further ado, I present...

Television "Friends" You Would Never be Friends With in Real Life


Charlotte York


A Carrie/Miranda friendship makes sense. A Carrie/Samantha friendship makes sense. A Samantha/Miranda friendship makes sense. But Charlotte York, with her stuffy, judgmental ways and naivete make me wonder not only how she got involved with the likes of Carrie, Miranda and Samantha, but how the hell did she survive New York?

All of the other three ladies have arguably an equal amount of wit, cynicism and savvy to find pleasure in each other's company, and I find it hard to believe they would waste their time with Charlotte and her privilege-laden assertions about life. The proof is in the series how much they dislike (or pity) her - Carrie, Samantha and Miranda constantly berate Charlotte for being an old-timey "Rules" loser.

I think the real kicker is that Charlotte is an idiot. Remember the episode where she gets mad at her dog for getting pregnant? And also, the fact that she, a 30-something non-virgin, married her first husband without sleeping with him beforehand, only to endure a sexless, unhappy marriage? Would anyone normal and fun actually be friends with Charlotte in real life? I know her character is there to serve as the conservative factor in the SaTC equation, but every time I watch the show, I can't help but roll my eyes and wish that the other three ladies would get up from the lunch table and ditch Charlotte with the check.

Blanche Devereaux

You know how everyone always compares the ladies of Sex and the City to the ladies of The Golden Girls, and inevitably Blanche = Samantha? Sorry my friends, not so - Samantha Jones is not a rude, insulting beyotch quite like Blanche Devereaux is. Well, she could be, but she rarely hung her friends out to dry like Blanche did.

Maybe it was because Blanche was so vain and insecure that she needed to ridicule Dorothy and Rose on a daily basis, but that is no excuse. Whenever someone insults me to make themselves feel better, I say, "Shut the f*ck up you stupid whore," and I don't ignore their actions "because deep-down they are crying out for help."

Blanche never really says much to Sophia, but she constantly calls Dorothy and Rose old, ugly and unsexy, and rubs it in their face that they can in no way compare to her beauty and man-catching prowess. Some may say she's doing it in jest, as if The Golden Girls are "yo' mama" type joke slingers, but it would get pretty tiresome if someone consistently "jested" you for being old, wrinkly, and looking like Bea Arthur.

Just how expensive was Floridian rent back in the early 90's that it forced Dorothy, Rose and Sophia to room with this snotty bitch? Sure, her wicker furniture was something to be reckoned with, but I think anyone in their right mind would rather bunk at Shady Pines.


The Entire Cast of Friends



I know - it's painfully obvious that this is the douchiest cast of television characters that ever existed, so obvious that I shouldn't even include them in this listicle. If Chandler, Rachael, Ross...oh whatever, I'm already bored with listing their names, which YOU ALL KNOW DON'T LIE - if these people were real life characters, they would be ostracized by all of society. Hence, it makes perfect sense that, not only did they stick to their douchenozzle clique, but 2/3 of them married within their douchenozzle clique.

Ok, so they all were self-absorbed assholes, I don't know why I even brought it up. But I'm singling one character out, and that is Monica. I can find redeemable qualities (though minute) in all of the characters except for Monica, who was too anal, too high-strung, too shrill. Remember that episode when Chandler had to tell her that she gave the "best" worst shoulder rub, just so she could feel better and stop assaulting his shoulders with her death-grip hands? Just what kind of a shell of a person was Monica Geller that she always needed full control and complete validation? Maybe I'm coming at this all wrong - I think Monica experienced severe emotional trauma as a child.


Kevin Arnold


Surprised by this one? Well you shouldn't be! Beneath Kevin Arnold's boyish good looks and charm lay an overly-sensitive - yet insensitive - punk.

Let me preface by saying that, yes, it was integral to The Wonder Years plot that Kevin not be a golden boy; he had to be a betrayer to Paul in an episode, or cavalier to Winnie in another, to demonstrate the lessons learned when coming of age.

The best way to come at this is to look at how loyal of a friend Paul was to Kevin throughout his bipolar-like ups and downs. Throughout the series, Paul was unduly allegiant to Kevin, and what did Kevin do? He freaked out when Paul's Bar Mitzvah was scheduled the same day as his birthday. He flipped his lid when Paul's working-class dad got rich off of some investments (only to later lose it all).

I guess most of all it was Kevin's demeanor toward Paul - they should invent a drinking game where you watch The Wonder Years and drink every time Kevin says, "That's so stupid, Paul," or some other like condescension, because I guarantee you'd be drunk by the time that awesome Cocker version of "With a Little Help from My Friends," comes on. He could be a rude little pig, but Paul stuck by him. Although I have to admit, Corey Matthews, who was most definitely wrought by his predecessor Kevin Arnold, was the shit.

That's all I can think of at the moment, and I am kicking myself for not being a Dawson's Creek fan, because it makes sense that one of those kids in that group of "friends" would be a heinous beast.

So last night I took Ecstasy for the first time...

Excuse me if this post isn't full of my usual witty observations and clever jokes, but I am not totally with it today, since I spent all of last night rolling on Ecstasy.

It was about 9:30 pm. I was on the internet, reading blogs and stalking people on Facebook. My boyfriend sat down next to me and started talking. As anyone obsessed with the Internet knows, you generally do not pay attention to your loved ones when you are engrossed in a riveting blog post about ass-crack hair, but when he casually asked if I wanted to drop some Ecstasy, I was intrigued.

Or incredulous. "On a Monday night?" I asked. "Shouldn't we wait until Saturday?"

He laid out his reasoning for taking it on this particular Monday night. I had planned to only work half a day on Tuesday, and if we took it at that very moment, we would be done rolling by 4:30 and asleep soon thereafter. But I was hesitant. "We'll just take half a pill each," he suggested.

That seemed reasonable. We each took a half, and 40 minutes later, his pupils were the size of saucers and he was feeling good; I was feeling nothing.

"Maybe I'm immune," I mused. "Maybe I'm not a mere mortal, therefore your human drugs can not affect me."

"Maybe we should take another one, a full pill each," he said.

If you're keeping track, that would make it 1.5 pills for each of us. I don't know why I agreed to it - maybe that half was starting to kick in - but I shrugged and said "sure."

I waited. My boyfriend was feeling the E full-throttle. He kept touching me and rubbing my body, but I was definitely not into it. I tried, really, I started making out with him and mimicking his behavior, but all I wanted to do was roll over and fall asleep. "Sorry," I said.

He didn't mind. He left the room to go to the bathroom, and I was left to my own devices. It was somewhere during this time, alone on his bed, that I started to feel something. It's hard to explain - I didn't feel particularly good - but something was taking over my body.

Whoa, I'm back. I started this post at around 7:30 pm yesterday, and right after I finished the last paragraph, I had to lie down because I was so exhausted. Side note: my recuperation from taking the Ecstasy required at least 20 hours of sleep. No joke.

Ok, so I'm starting to feel something, and my boyfriend comes back in the room and he looks at my eyes. "Your pupils are huge!" he says. I looked in the mirror, and it was true - though the E had taken quite a bit longer to affect me, it was clear that I was no deity afterall; I was rolling.

What followed afterward was a lot of feeling good, and that's all I can say. It felt like what I expected pot to feel like before I ever smoked pot - warm and happy and loving everything. At one point, while I was on my way to peaking, I asked my bf if he had anymore. "A pill and a half," he said. "Should we take it?"

"Yeah, fuck it," I replied. I knew I needed to be awake and ready the next day, since I had a 12:15 doctor's appointment, but I will tell you one thing about this drug: you don't ever want to come down while you're high. Often times when I smoke pot, it will get to a point when I'm tired of being high, and I'll just fall asleep. But not with Ecstasy.

So we each took a half and a quarter - that brings us up to 2.25 pills each.

Another thing about this drug: you're completely lucid. Even though I was already high, I knew taking the other pill and a quarter was not a smart idea, especially for my first time, but I was so afraid that the high was going to end that I wanted to preserve it any way I could.

So in the early stages of our rolling, there was a lot of body rubbing and telling each other that we loved each other and professing every good thing we had ever felt about each other, and then we started peaking...and all we could do was lie there. No talking, no touching, just in our own heads and feeling good. I could barely move. And I wasn't scared.

The most screwed up in the head I have ever been was when I was seventeen. It was after my dad's wedding to my stepmom, and my sister, all my stepcousins, some friends, and I went back to my dad's house, since the house was devoid of parental supervision for the night. We all sat around and played Quarters with Jim Beam, and then we proceeded to take hits off of a gravity bong. Shortly thereafter, stoned and drunk, I stumbled onto the couch and laid down, completely wacked out of my mind. I didn't know where I was - I didn't even know I was awake - until some little voice in my head told me that everything I was experiencing wasn't a dream, that indeed I was majorly fucked up. I was scared and freaking out, and I only got back in touch with reality when my gag reflex started to go off and I became best friends with the toilet for the night.

Being high on E was kind of like that in that I was definitely wacked out, but I wasn't scared, not for a second. I guess I just rode the snake, or whatever, just went with the flow.

At about 5 am I started to come down, but I knew there was no way I'd make it to my appointment or work the next day. Every time I attempted to move from the bed the following morning, my pupils were so dilated that the light would cause my vision to go black and I'd have to lay back down. After three failed tries to get up and function, I decided the best thing to do was to sleep until I could move. And that's what I did - I slept until 6 pm. And then took another nap at 8:30 pm. I woke up from the nap at 12:15, and then fell asleep from 2 to 9 am the next morning.

I am recommending E above any other drug I have ever done - pot, coke, shrooms. But if you're a first-timer, here's some advice:

1. Do not take more than 1 pill. In fact, do not have more on hand than enough for everyone taking it to have one. If you have more lying around while you're rolling, you're going to want to take more, and THEN you'll be so high that you can't move, like I was.

2. Do it with someone you're comfortable with, like a boyfriend or girlfriend. Do it with someone you trust. If I had done E with anyone but my boyfriend, it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.

3. Make sure you don't have to do anything the next day. Maybe if you only take one pill, you won't feel the rough after-effects I did, but still, do it on a day where the next day you won't be required to be a functioning member of society.

4. There's a lot of stuff I didn't go into, mainly because it's kind of private and, um, I can't remember everything completely, but do whatever feels good, and DON'T DO whatever feels bad. Listen to your gut, because even though you'll be high, you will know what is ok and what's not.

5. Stay inside. After rolling, I don't know how all of those club kids can dance and whip glowsticks around while high. I certainly couldn't have, so I'm recommending you don't leave the house or apartment.

So there's my story, and all that I have to impart. I don't know if I'll ever do this drug again - as a writer and a glutton for experience, I felt kind of required to take it at least once - but it was really a good time overall.

The "sexy" "rockers" I just do not get

I've decided to get all crazy with the blog and add a poll, and it's not just for fun - it's something I'm genuinely interested in.

Maybe it's because I'm a child of the 90's, but geez, I just don't get how some older women swoon over today's aging rockers. Rod Stewart was once a sex symbol? Seriously? And Steve Perry inspired many a lady to throw her panties onstage during a 1980's Journey concert? Blows my mind.

I can understand certain aging rockers being panty-soaking studs during their prime. Mick Jagger, James Taylor, David Cassidy - I've seen the pictures from their rocker primes, and my god, I can understand any girl wanting to roll around in the hay with one of those fellas. Or I don't know, cover their face with kisses (did any girl really want to do that to their crush when they were 14? My adolescent fantasies were full of unbridled sexcapades, but maybe that's just me).

But Rod Stewart's tight-panted mole-faced physique does not do it for me; neither does Steve Perry's angular nose. Ugh, and Keith Richards? I thought it was a joke when my aunt confessed that she had a thing for Richards back in the day. Poor Pete Doherty, if he'd only been a rocker back in the 70's, his dirty fingernails and crackpipe-burnt lips would have been coveted and loved by millions.

SO vote (even if you're a heterosexual dude - pick based on which one you'd rather be, I guess), and if you feel compelled to explain the ultra-sexiness of the young Stewart, Perry and/or Richards, please do so in the comments.

Because let's face it - this post is coming from a chick who's main girlhood crush was on David Duchovny, savior to geeks and conspiracy theorists across the nation.

So this play I saw got me thinking...

Last night, I went to see a a new play by Liz Flahive at the NY City Center called "From Up Here," about the aftermath experienced by the family of a boy who brought a gun to school. It was good, with an innovative set design, capable direction, and riveting performances by the players, especially from Julie White (the mother) and Tobias Segal (the gun-wielding son).

I'm recommending it, but I'm not going to get into it. That introduction is for something, I'm guessing, Flahive wanted to facillitate, and that's a discussion about gun control.

It's amazing that in the recent debates, neither Obama nor Clinton have said much about gun control, especially considering the recent tragedy of the Virgina Tech shootings. WTF makes this discussion so off-limits? Are both of the Democratic candidates so afraid of alienating that middle-America demographic - since the current debate is who is more elitist than the other - that a reasonable approach to gun-control would be the death knell of their candidacy?

I grew up in a family that owns, uses and appreciates guns. My grandfather, father and uncle are all big hunters; I was firing a BB gun by the time I was seven; I used to regularly practice shooting targets with my father's shotgun every summer when camping on my family's private land. That said, whenever I think of the typical gun owner, that visceral image of Charlton Heston declaring in front of a crowd at an NRA convention, "From my cold dead hands!" pops into my head.

I get that. The Second Amendment was put in place for a reason, and it should be the right of any mentally-sound, responsible, crimeless-past American to own a gun reasonable for use for protection and hunting. In order to verify that a person passes all of these qualifications, yes, restrictions will have to be put in place. If you are a psycho with a history of depression, or have a police record, or are in college (sorry college kids, your track record for deadly psychosis omits you from gun-ownership eligibility), you shall not be allowed to own a gun.

SO why can't Obama or Clinton just say to all the NRA members who get their panties in a bunch at the slightest mumble of gun control, "You, who are members of the NRA and presumably responsible gun owners, should not have a problem passing the restrictions that I plan to put in place for gun ownership. The restrictions will not hinder the responsible gun-owner - they will prevent criminals, the mentally unsound, and children from getting their hands on a deadly weapon." No responsible gun-owner would balk at that, right?

When in doubt, buy generic

I'm only 24, but I often think about what I want to impart on my future children. Hopefully I won't be having any kids for another ten years or so, but from the way my heart softens every time I see a baby, my body is probably subconsciously willing my ovaries to fertilize at this very moment.

I will take my kid(s) into the booth when I go to vote; I will teach them the importance of empathy and compassion. And even though I'm a feminist, I'm not going to force all of my feminazi boner-killing opinions on them - I will simply lay out the facts (oh who am I kidding? My bias will ultimately lead to my daughter rebelling and becoming an anti-choice, bible-thumping Republican cheerleader).

Also? I'm going to teach them to buy generic.

At the grocery store the other day, I went on the search for my favorite "part of a balanced breakfast"cereal, Reese's Puffs. When I couldn't locate it, I considered other peanut butter flavored cereals, but they were like $5.50 a box - wtf!?!? Good god, with the price of food increasing, I'm going to have to start sucking dick just for a can of soup and a Kraft single.

After staring at the cereal shelf for ten (or twenty) minutes, my eyes drifted down and landed on a box of Foodtown Cocoa Peanut Butter Spheres. For only $2.19, I was sold.

The name might be a little clunky (spheres? I guess 'balls' has entered the realm of "too much innuendo to be family-friendly"), and there certainly is no prize waiting for me at the bottom, but the generic cereal is just as good, if not better, than the name-brand stuff.

And this happens all the time - salad dressing, pasta, ketchup - the generic form is just as good as the name brand. Why are we all so retarded as to pay $3.00 more for a name and a prize? If you base you grocery purchases on the fact that your kid (or you) wants that chinsy piece of plastic that is promised to be mingled in with your cereal, put a quarter in the toy dispenser on your way out.

Now, there are some generic foods that actually DON'T taste as good as the name-brand...but the only one I can think of at the moment, I'm not even sure if it's a generic food. Or drink.

Yes folks, I'm thinking of RC Cola. That stuff is nasty, in no way is it as good as Coke or Pepsi, it's not even as tasty as crab juice (guess where I lifted that from!), but is it a generic soda, or just a plan old shitty soda? Hell, it might not even exist anymore. Does someone want to check? You know you've reached the pinnacle of laziness if you don't even feel like doing a 30-second Google search.

SO what other generic foods are just as good as the name-brand? And what generic foods suck big fat donkey dick? Comments people, comments! (I'm talking to you, Mom)

Acne Sufferers, I have found the Answer

Acne is a common annoyance when you are a teen. Well, when you're a teen, it's a huge fucking crisis, but everyone else is pizza-faced too.

The myth that once you become an adult your face will magically clear-up is what got me through high school, but in fact my acne got WORSE when I got to college. It was probably a mix of stress, bad food, increased smoking, and spending too many nights passed out with hooker make-up caked on my face that exacerbated my pimple outbreaks. And even though I've corrected most of my acne-causing behavior (still smoking - I gotta put an end to that one day), the adult acne is still a fat, volcanic blemish on my social life.

Or WAS.

Over Christmas, my aunt, who also has skin problems (at 45!), gave me a tube of facewash prescribed by her dermatologist.

Now I have tried everything to cure my acne - pills, medicated OTC facewashes, birth control (though I never took a condom to my face...er, I mean - oh whatever, make the joke, pervs), but the wash my aunt gave me is the only thing to make a significant, long-lasting difference.

The wash is called Sodium Sulfacetamide 10% and Sulfur 5% Wash, made by Glades.

My acne is not fully gone, but it is definitely less severe. Whereas before, there was a new pimple (or 5) on my face every morning, now I only get a pimple right before I start my period, and I don't get acne cysts anymore.

It's only available with a prescription, and you should definitely ask your doctor if it is safe for your skin before using it, but bring it up next time you see the dermatologist. Here's to hoping it works for you!

Aristocrats = Rorschach Test?

So here's something I always wanted to blog about before I had a blog.

About five months ago, I watched an HBO documentary called "The Aristocrats." In short, 'The Aristocrats' is the most disgusting, profane, politically incorrect joke...that a comedian can invent. It's an ad-lib joke, that generally begins like this:

A man goes to see a talent agent, and he tells the agent that he's got a great idea for an act.

The agent says, "Alright, tell me about it."

The man then proceeds to describe the act for the agent, which involves public sex, incest, bodily fluids, murder, and bestiality.

The agent is shocked but intrigued. "What do you call this act of yours?"

"The Aristocrats!"

There were some revolting but hilarious examples of this joke from a wide spectrum of comedians. I'm no comedian, not a good one anyways, but I'm going to take a crack at creating my own 'Aristocrats' joke.

A woman goes in to speak to an agent. She tells the agent, "I have a great act that you're gonna love. We've thought about posting it on youtube, but we'd like a man of your expertise to manage us. It's gonna kill."

"Alright," says the agent. " What's the act?"

"First, I go onstage, and I'm wearing a skin-tight bodysuit made of fruit roll-ups. I do a little dance to get the crowd warmed up, and then comes in my husband, naked, riding a black stallion. He jumps down, I straddle his face, and he starts to eat away at the fruit roll-up covering my snatch. Once he's eaten it away, he starts to go down on me.

"At this point, my son walks on the stage, and walks the stallion over to us, and the stallion starts gnawing away at my tits, eating the body-suit. My son stands under the horse's asshole, and it takes a huge dump on my son's head. Hose in hand, my daughter comes on stage and washes all the shit off of my son, but then she takes the hose, shoves it up her twat, and fills her twat up with water. Once filled, she uses her kegel muscles to shoot the water into my son's gaping mouth, making beautiful arcs with the water that cast glorious rainbows in the stage lights.

"She fills up two more times, shoots water in my mouth and my husband's mouth. After this, my husband and son partake in some mutual masturbation, using the stallion's leftover shit as lube, while my daughter proceeds to eat the rest of my body suit off of me. Then we all take turns sucking off the horse, and when the horse shoots its load, we use it to slip n' slide off the stage onto a bed of rusty razor blades, from which we die bloody and painful deaths."

The agent is shocked but intrigued. "What's the name of this act?" he asks.

"The Aristocrats!"

There's my Aristocrats joke. It could have gone on a lot longer (I could have brought on the grandparents), but it needed to end sometime. In the aforementioned documentary, it was said that Chevy Chase would host 'Aristocrats' parties, during which the host and guests would attempt to invent the longest Aristocrats joke they could ad-lib. It's rumored that one Aristocrats joke lasted for two hours.

But I wonder, is an Aristocrats joke a glimpse into the psyche of the person who invented it? Some of the stuff I ad-libbed (and I really did ad-lib it - all I typed was what popped into my head, with little self-editing) was pretty disgusting.

Of course, that's the point, to be really gross and shocking, but where in the hell did that part with the water and the kegel muscles come from? (I'm asking myself, naturally.) That's not a joke I keep in my back pocket, it just came to me and I went with it.

If I over-analyze and over-reach, I can reason that the kegel part is ACTUALLY my homage to sprinklers, because I loved running through the sprinkler as a kid, and I was always fascinated by the fleeting rainbows they would cast in the summer sun. Aww, childhood!

Now that I'm reading my joke again, that all makes PERFECT sense. I talk about slip n' sliding too!

Anyone want to share their own Aristocrats joke? I.e. CHALLENGE ME? I know I have no readers, but maybe someone will see this a year down the road and get the urge.

I've decided to do it

No, nothing great. I haven't decided to stop smoking, like I've been saying since the first time I took a drag off a cigarette. I haven't decided to join a softball league, or hack into my roommate's livejournal account to see all the private things he writes about my life (but if anyone has suggestions on this, please send them my way).

I think it's pretty explicit what I've decided to do.