I had a Larry's Stuffed Potato and microwave popcorn for dinner. It was delicious.

And because I had such a nutritious dinner, I was able to make some jewelry for the first time since I began making The Handbag from Hell. I made a very pretty necklace that made the Hippy say, "Preeeeetttty" as his eyes glazed over. I had plans for more but was distracted by the lint on the carpet.

Last night, it got very foggy around 5pm and, by the time I drove home, the city felt like it was lodged firmly up the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man's ass. Going over the tiny, two-lane drawbridge was fun. Especially when SOME ASSHOLE was RIDING MY ASS with HIS BRIGHTS and HIS HAZARDS on. Christ.

Anywho, when it started getting all foggy and shit, this patron asked me, "What does the fog mean?" Right away, I replied, "Pirates." She didn't get it and I kicked her in the shins. Lamer. Not really. She just looked at me weird and I said something about maybe a cold front? Warm front? Or, um, pirates? I guess she wanted an actual answer, though, cuz she then went up to the reference desk.

Happy fucking Friday the 13th.

Don't forget...

(Thanks to everyone who has replied so far. Although, I'm surprised no one's mentioned butt sex.)

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