Wal-Mart Halts Singles Shopping
(excerpt) ...One dissatisfied customer was Leslie Winton, 27, who found out on her way into the store that Singles Shopping is no more. "This is very disappointing," she said. "I drove up from Franklin County to be here. I've been thinking about it all week." (end excerpt)
Well, we just can't have that. Email me ;-)
I guess now it's back to meet-an-inmate.com and RussianBrides.com. Oh, I'm kidding. Those aren't real sites. Oh, they are? Well, I've never visited them.... (No offense, Svetlana.) Well, OK, they aren't in my favorites though.
Nocturnal Phantasm 705B
I've been on an incredible streak of remembering dreams lately. Last night, I dreamed I was either a coach or a teacher in high school. I was sitting at the front of a classroom, next to my high school health teacher, who was also the girls varsity basketball coach for a couple of years. It was a regular class, with probably about fifty students in it. But once we started to teach, it was like he was suddenly a football coach, and I was an assistant, even though the students remained the same. He brought in a newspaper which had all the scores from the previous Friday night's games, and my assignment was to read the articles or recaps of three games, and then give a summary of each.
I fed Pablo a couple of pieces of a Fruity Pebble yesterday. He seems to be doing OK, although I think he might have had a sugar high. He was darting all over his tank.
My fantasy baseball team is up to 3rd place, which is the highest I've been all year. Click on the link over to the right if you'd like to see. But hurry, I probably won't be there for long.
When you get behind a car that is emitting lots of unpleasant, toxic exhaust, do you stick your nose in your shirt and take a breath? I do. I guess I prefer the combination of human perspiration, Tag body spray, and Mitchum, to whatever is coming from the car in front of me. I do that in the bathroom too, if someone has defiled it. But it only works well for like the first breath or two.
Yesterday, I killed one of these giant hopping bugs in the kitchen. I smothered it with some Raid. Then once it was dead, I caught myself doing a victory dance, taunting the deceased with sort of a pro wrestling/NFL end zone celebration combination. Why do I do that? Perhaps I have some pent up energy. Too bad there was no video camera.
If I ever become a porn star, I think my name will be Manuel Labor. I will typically be a construction worker or something, glistening with sweat.
"Her hat is hanging by the door, the one she bought in Mexico. It blocked the wind, it stopped the rain. She'd never leave that one. So she can't be really gone..."