menardg

Man, October is rushing past. Almost Samhain!
How are you celebrating? Dressing up as a Slutty [Noun] and having a couple beverages?
Going out into a clearing and praying for the Earth?
I'm thinking it's time to pull out the Slutty Grim Reaper costume. That's right, Paris Hilton's vajayjay.

Sure, that sentence (I think I'm in love with being in love.) isn't the most masculine thing ever written by yours truly. But it's honest and it's real and if you don't like it, it says you can go do wildly inappropriate things to yourself involving sterno, a funnel a plunger and some anal lube.
Apparently it's a rather vicious little sentence, too. . .

I hate sleeping in the wet spot.
Even worse when the wet spot is from sweating out the fever that's accompanying my flu.
I really wish there'd been one of *those* wet spots anywhere in my recent past to bitch about. . .
How long before a virginity regrows?

Really, I promise I'm trying to squeeze out a poignant and thoughtful blog post, but sometimes they get stuck.
I think I need more mental fiber.
Because, ya know, writer's block is very akin to constipation.
At least, it is, when it's the shit I seem to produce.

Happy Singles Awareness Day to my fellow wretches.
And to think, just one week ago, I was ready to look down on your poor pathetic singletons. Oh how fate's threads kink.

I didn't do it, or I couldn't have done it without the help and support of a great team (and you should blame them)