Let the girlies sing: There’s a hole. There’s a hole! There’s a hole where there used to be a mole!
There’s a time when the law gets out of hand and overreaches their arms. Based on the news, we’re fucked …
This is a cheesy ass post that simply informs you all that Comments are now Open. They’re open for all August posts and forward. I’m working on the rest ad hoc. Do I expect people to use the comments? No, but I figure it’s already built in, may as well use it.
While I don’t like teeming throngs enough to check out the water foo, I did watch the air show in Chicago.
“I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered! My life is my own.” No. 6; Arrival
This is a hot topic. This is a dangerous topic. This will piss people off. This is your only warning.
Can a person update her blog from email? Let’s find out.
There was a hole in my wall. A hole. In my kitchen wall. Why? Because sometimes, just sometimes, life sucks.
You don’t want me on your train, baby. Trust me.
Susan Smith, the South Carolina woman who killed her two boys by driving her auto into a lake while the children slept in their car seats, has placed an online personal ad seeking pen pals who are “not judgmental” and want to write to a convicted murderer who considers herself “sensitive, caring, and kind-hearted.”