Some asshole comment spamming engine has been busy with my site today. I noticed yesterday and thought this morning that changing the name of my comments page would thwart it off. Seeing the 78 junk emails this evening just told me how well that worked. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to look at it right now, so I’m making member registration a requirement once again. This will hopefully put a stop to it until I can examine the issue more closely.
In the meantime, I may start an insatiable desire to play poker.
Not quite as exciting as Sasquatch, but probably just as hairy.
Yes, I watch that show. I’ll admit to nothing this time except that I think it’s one the smartest written shows on television today. That, and I have a hard time deciding if I like the character of Rory or Lorelai better.
Damn, always too much information.
You had me at hello.
What married, single, or otherwise gay man in his mid-twenties (give or take a few extra years) didn’t fall in love with you instantly in Mean Girls.
You were special. You were so like nothing else.
Now you’re lip-syncing your heart out (or not?) on morning shows like so many other lesser teen sensations… Hilary Duff… or shudder to think, Ashlee Simpson. I guess your kind of allure wasn’t meant to last. And this thirty-one year old married man simply can’t watch TRL under any circumstance, so I’m afraid for me the ride stops here. But we’ll always have the memories.
(Please keep reading with a sardonic overtone.)
Seriously, though, the crossover from acting to singing is such a terribly botched procedure these days. Kinda makes me want to see Jessica Simpson do a movie just so I can decide which is worse.
This dog walked into my neighbors house one day while she was getting some appliances delivered. To say the dog had fallen into neglect would be a gross understatement. It lumbered around with a limp, and long, knotted, burr-filled fur that felt to me in spots as if it were some kind of tumor. Obviously, it hadn’t been given proper care for quite some time.
When I first saw the animal I wasn’t really sure it was a dog at all—a sheep or an arctic wildebeest, maybe, but definitely not a dog. Although it probably has good reason, it didn’t seem frightened or angry at people in any way—just tired and disinterested from being left out in the cold. But several days later, after living in our garage, and under the patient grooming care of my neighbors, the dog somehow sprung back to life—looking an behaving more like a companion pet with each passing day. I’m happy to say that the dog it is now vibrant and healthy. In fact, it seems to like people very much.