OK, you're really liking the phrase "beaver shot" this week. Not that that's a bad thing. I'm just sayin', is all.

Wow, you're so right. I hadn't even realized it until you mentioned it--I'm fantastically punchy this week.

As a way of apology, next week I will turn my focus to the phrase "danglin' wangs."

Salt meet wound. I spend eight hours transcribing radiology reports, just to come home and read this confirmation that radiologists really are universally assholish. "Doctor, is this word really 'mehuga' or did you sneeze?" is met with a cold glare that convinces you that the machines are a ruse, and they can actually SEE THROUGH YOU.

*cries*

Not even along the same lines -
Eric Stoltz's birthday was Sept. 30th. Yep, saw that in the local paper while I was eating cereal this mornin'
September 30th 1961
Did you send him a card Skot?
Have you forgotten about him already?! (makes clicking noises with her tongue)

You go, Skot!

Eric Stoltz is 42? Jesus christ, I never realized.

The Stoltz in '04 campaign was met with such a tremendous wall of indifference that I got discouraged. Last I checked, the only candidate he was polling better than was Kucinich, so I kind of let it go.

I've come to realize -- through grave and thorough study -- that cunningly placed beaver shots can brighten all manner of otherwise pedestrian presentations. I commend you for sticking to your principles.

I work in softare development, and am therefore subject to dizzying areas of utterly dry technical documents. Documents so purposefully and antagonistically dull that ordinary humans weep and flay themselves while reading. However, with the insertion of just a few cleverly formatted shots of glistening pink flesh, these tomes of unutterable sorrow and wailing become almost bearable. And they're mighty handy in the can as well.

I didn't really just type any of that, did I?

Holy fuck, I spel gud.

Okay. Cancer patients everywhere love you. NOW are you happy???

I suddenly have a new mission for cheering up those who need cheering.
(Where is my camera....?)

I bin away for a while. A fairy told me to look you up when I got home. It worked and I chuckled. I needed this, because I was ill-advised to spend my Friday evening in a tiny cellar restaurant (highly recommended) where a San Franciscan murders good ingredients. I should have known. A decent SF chef would have stayed over there and not come over here. Be warned: potato, parsnip and vanilla mash doesn't tickle anyone. 'Specially with what appeared to be pan-dried partridge with Merguez Marmite. Pharmacutical companies, however, might learn a thing or two.

I do not understand why you have decided to turn IP into a hard core porno site, but me and my friend JESUS disaprove! Change your ways Skot!

Salt meet wound.

I hope you don't expect me to shake hands.