1. Tuesday, October 8, 2002

    Questions I asked Myself this Morning while I ate my Frosted Flakes 

    is it good news or bad news to get an Honorable Mention from The Right Wing News in its The Best Of The Blogosphere poll?

    what does sara k smith think that she can learn from grad school that she doesnt already know about writing? she’s easilly the most under-rated least-linked writer out there.

    when will mc brown stop kicking my ass?

    what’s little kobe waiting for? Christmas?

    what if i started a Yahoo Fantasy NBA league, and nobody came? even if it had a live draft this saturday at noon? (private league #3285, password=jules)

    why is it that some people can design so well, but then become so uninspired to update their blog? don’t they know that i would kill for such design?

    isn’t dawn’s new blog purty?

    why must laughing boy be handsome, witty, verbose, and clever And want to steal my traffic? no wonder karisa loves east coast hustlas better.

    and finally, where does a. beam get off thinking that she doesnt have to update except when she damn well pleases? does that lil pink cat got her tounge? if theres one thing i hate its when people who kiss my ass stop writing on their blogs.

    theres an Press Club event tonight that i had a hot date for but she cant make it. we had something planned for friday and saturday and it didnt work out. on sunday we had something planned, but i was busy so i said, free drinks at the new Standard, whaddya say, im on the guest list, and she said sounds great. but now it’s not so great, so im just thinking about watching the angels game from the comfort of my own home, relieved that the burdon of the proposal is lifted from my shoulders.

    but what if the reverse cowgirl is gonna be there? who doesnt like to meet seductive amazonian writer/photographers who dig porn?

    what if moxie is planning to attend? who doesnt like to raise a glass to being single in LA with a loveable skinny blonde who drives a porsche?

    and what if the girl of my dreams ends up there, spidey senses telling her that her afroboy is nearby, looking for someone to talk to and there i was stirring my baileys mixing in the creame when our eyes met over the little plate of warm cashews?

    and what if i passed all that up to twirl my rally monkey in front of a big screen?

    ah, destiny, you wicked witch.