<< June 2008 >>
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
01 02 03 04 05 06 07
08 09 10 11 12 13 14
15 16 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30

Wonderful New Record. GET IT!!


Contact Me

If you want to be updated on this weblog Enter your email here:

Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Catty and Superficial -- Celebs I Can't Stand

(in no particular order)

Sandra Bullock
Ted Danson
Al Sharpton
Whoopi Goldberg
the parents on 90210
Jennifer Love Hewitt
Julia Stiles
Kyra Sedgwick
Wilmer Valderrama
Jerry Mathers
Kate Hudson
Jennifer Grey's new nose
Oprah's friend Gayle
Michael Douglas
Denise Richards
Nancy Pelosi
Paris Hilton-- DUH

I used to have some others on the list but I've taken them back.  Example: Kirstie Alley used to really annoy me in the Pier 1 commercials but since they dropped her she's ok again.

What are some others?  I know this is negative so let's add a few "Celebs I Love."
Parker Posey
Dolly Parton
Lindsay Lohan
Mary Louise Parker
Megan Follows
Olivia Newton-John
Ann Curry
Eliot on Scrubs
Colin Firth
Katharine Hepburn

Sometimes loving or hating celebrities is all you have to hold onto...

Posted at 10/17/2007 11:00:17 am by gak
(4) Have Been Clubbed

Tuesday, October 16, 2007
tappity tap tap

well i just got back from my first tap dancing class at a new studio.  for the past 2 weeks i had been taking at a super crappy place (in an old run down POST OFFICE) whose idea of tap dance is hoofing it to Beyonce.   Seriously. I was astonished that to attract a more urban crowd the teacher put on music that did NOT work with tap... but of course it was quite funny b/c when we registered (me and a friend Amy from work) we asked the desk-girl, "What's the makeup of the class like?" and she said, "Oh it's very diverse."  We were excited, thinking that we weren't going to be the old farts in class and said, "Awesome! So there are lots of different ages here?" and she said back, "Well, you two are the reason it's diverse."

hahaha.  so that meant we were the old farts in class.

anyway, i'm not the old fart in the new class... there are two ladies in their 50s, me, and then 5 other girls about 13-16 years old.  am i crazy that i like to talk to the teens more than the older ladies? 

i sweated my ass off and was told that my appearance in the recital is optional. thank god!!!  it sounds a lot like Dive Club.  The only difference is i couldn't really talk about Dive Club... but Tap Club i'm going to gush about.

p.s. tonight before class i was filling up with overpriced gas and a woman with a hickey the size of a COASTER asked me for $2.00.  she said "we've gotta get home. Please!!" and so i bought the meth-head $2.50 worth of gas.  i'm a dumbass but at least i knew they couldn't sell the gas from the pump for crystal.  guess i was trying to give humanity the benefit of the doubt.  i'm stupid.

Posted at 10/16/2007 9:02:36 pm by gak
(2) Have Been Clubbed

Sunday, October 14, 2007
A New Start

Last week i noticed something strange and beautiful on my back deck. Can you guess what it is?

I googled the hell out of "green +gold +insect +sac" and after sifting through about 20 pest control companies in Sacramento, found out that it's a MONARCH CHRYSALIS!

i watched her every day... amazed at the life growing on my shitty usually-indoor palm tree...  and by Friday night had realized she was darkening... you could see the wings forming...

By Friday night/ Saturday early AM I was ecstatic... took my flashlight out for a quick photo but apparently i don't know how to properly use my camera. Next time, SWF I will defer to your photographic genius instead of fumbling for my Canon Power Shot alone!!

Anyway, by Saturday morning at 8 am I had already missed the struggle to emerge from the chrysalis. But i was nonetheless awe-stricken with the beauty of new life before me.

It was one of the most amazing experiences I've had... watching this brave creature cling to a discarded houseplant and grow strong... 

Plus, now she's on her way to MEXICO! 

Have a margarita for me, baby.

Posted at 10/14/2007 6:01:37 pm by gak
(3) Have Been Clubbed

Monday, April 16, 2007
Sleepless in Atlanta

I found myself wide awake until 3 AM this Saturday morning.  Guess it was all those Irish Coffees?  Whatever the cause, I came up with what SEEMED like a briiliant idea at the time: email matchketeers. 


Turns out "the filter" doesn't exist when I'm schnockered up at 3 AM.  For example, my reply to a matcher asking me about my experience showing a pig and also if I'd ever been engaged:

There's a reason you never saw attractive people showing hogs – it's because we cheat the system and exhibit the hogs differently.  Mine was entered in the carcass class, so it was judged on its lean content.  Basically, you ship it to slaughter, they slice it down the middle, and measure the fat.  So you never have to wear the stupid outfit, or carry the stick, or teach the pig to walk.  And then the buyer gets to see exactly what they're getting at auction.  It's pretty wild – the split hog hangs in the freezer trailer with a glass front for display. 

 And that's all I have to say about that.  The farm life was fun, and I'm glad I had the opportunity, but for now I'm much happier in the city.  

So, you asked if I'd ever been engaged before.  I was formally engaged in college.  I think it was junior year or so.  We'd dated since HS graduation, and it seemed like the next logical step.  The problem was that I had also just bought a new show horse – and it wasn't just any old show horse.  This was the "once in a lifetime" horse that I'd planned to campaign nationally – a dream I'd had since I was a little girl.  It meant a lot of training, a lot of travel, and a lot of missed classes (oh shucks).  I was also working three jobs to finance this project.  After one month, my fiancé started complaining that I wasn't spending enough time with him.  The complaining grew from simple whining to demands that I spend more time with him and less time with the horse.  The next thing he said was that I loved the horse more than him.  I remember looking at him, then looking at the horse, and then looking back at him and saying, "You're right.  I've loved horses since I was 4.  I've loved you since I was 17.  I've loved the horses longer…"  

Long story short, after another week or so of "negotiations," I gave the ring back.  It was the smart thing to do, too, because I ended up winning the national championships that year, so it paid off.  And trust me when I say I lasted longer with that horse than I ever would have lasted with the fiancé (sadly, I had to euthanize my horse a few years back due to an injury).  

I had another informal offer right around when I got the Atlanta job.  I'd been dating a guy for 3 years or so, and was offered a position in Atlanta as a software trainer.  It meant I'd get to travel all over, and it was an offer I couldn't refuse.  My boyfriend at the time told me that if I stayed, he'd make sure I got the house with the white picket fence and the daisies out front.  But the truth is, I've never been a white picket fence person, and the opportunity to travel the world just seemed like a better offer.  Besides, I was 24 at the time, and I just felt like I had too much to accomplish on my own before I even started to think about settling down.

So that's how a 34 year old woman ends up still being single.  People ask me that all the time.  It's a choice.  I just never felt like I could settle down before I'd traveled, accomplished a few key goals, and figured out what I didn't want out of life (I leave what I want open to new experiences, etc..).  Hopefully that set aside some fears you might have had of my spinsterhood.  We singletons in our mid 30's are often treated as though we have leprosy – it's quite odd.  But I guess we have that good old biological clock working against us…

And my rather run-on email to a guy who lives in the building next to me.  He was going to Napa to visit his nephews.  I pray I never meet him on the sidewalk:

Uncle Bobby,


I had an Uncle Bob growing up.  I guess I had a speech impediment, too, because I apparently called him Uncle Beebop.  Or maybe I just thought that name was more hip – he did drive a white microbus with a shag interior, after all.


Now about this minivan thing.  Sure, there's the whole minivan metaphor, but I think there's more to it than the fact that the DHW (Dunwoody House Wife) and ATW (Alpharetta Trophy Wife) drive them.  Let's face it – minivans are just plain ugly.  So are station wagons.  And even uglier are these "hybrid" station wagon/SUV things that are shaped like shoes.  I can't even believe there is even a market for these shitmobiles.  Worse yet are the Scion xB and the Honda Element.  Generation Y or Z or Me or whatever they call themselves these days as they drive around in their hearse-mobile are clearly devoid of any sense, style or class.


Whew!  I'm feeling rather blunt today.


It's finally starting to warm up, thank GOD.  Gore can take his global warming DVD and shove it up his ass.  It snowed in Midtown on Easter Sunday, for chrissakes!  But at least I think I can FINALLY store the black boots for the summer (and no, fantasyboy, they are not over-the-knee boots – that would be tacky).  Everyone knows that you can only pull that look off if you're 5'7" or taller.  I generally try to dress nicely for work – but one company's definition of nice is another company's casual Friday.  Let's put it this way – the guys in client services generally wear Birkenstocks and cargo shorts, and I've seen the AR girls in off-the-shoulder tops and boob tubes.  And to think my coworker and I got busted for wearing shirts that were "too low cut" all while we were wearing suits?  BIZARRE.  But I'm sidetracked.  Men have it easy – just wear nice slacks and a button up shirt or a nice sweater.  But women – we have this whole cleavage thing to worry about. 


I think one of these days I'm going to have to drag you down to Toast and force you to drink cheapass $4 margaritas.  I'll spare you the peach ones – that would be gay.   Speaking of gay, the model for Viewpoint (in the front window of your building) shows a rainbow dot-like detail at the top of its pseudo-spire.  Do you think the final design will REALLY be a rainbow?  A beacon of light standing on the former site of Backstreet,(former infamous gay club in Atlanta) calling all of its queens home???  It would be ironic…


On a more serious note – about this Imus amputation thing.  My grandfather has had both of his limbs amputated.  But Imus has more to worry about these days than amputee veterans.  This whole nappy haired ho thing honestly makes my blood boil.  Why can rap artists, male and female alike, use the n-word in songs and it's okay, but as soon as a cracker tries to speak up, it's racist?  I have no patience for double standards.  And that's all I'm gonna say about that.  At least for now.


Although I did see a panhandler at the corner of Williams Street and 14th this morning who did bear a striking resemblance to Imus…


As for church – I've heard of Northpoint, but I don't do that "Six Flags Over Jesus" crap.  I fear the megachurch (although I hear some of them have Starbucks).  


So, how's the visit to Napa going?  I really think you and your family should try and find the time to play Mexican Bingo – Loteria.  It's pretty entertaining, and you can use it to learn Spanish.  Then the twins can spout out El Diablo! And El Diablo Pequeno!  and annoying stuff like that.  Well, maybe not this year – they are only one.  Do one year olds even talk?  I'm so outta the loop on that.  I'm assuming that they are at that stage where they can bump into things, like the coffee table edge?  And to have two of them?  Aye carumba!  


Ahhhh, at least there should be plenty of wine handy…

 And this, my friends, is why Nibsie is STILL single!  ARGH!!!  Take my laptop away when I'm el drunko!!!

Posted at 4/16/2007 10:03:38 pm by Nibs
(5) Have Been Clubbed

Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Time Stopped

You know how in the movie "Big Fish" they say that when you meet the love of your life, time stops?  Well, I never believed it for a second.  Sounded like a load of crap if you ask me.  I just never met anyone who was all that remarkable.  Or at least not to me.

Sure, I've met men who make me tongue-tied, or fidgety-nervous, or whom has given me nearly fatal cases of verbal diarrhea.  But time never stopped.  And I always wondered if there was something wrong with me.

 So, two weeks ago I found myself out on Disaster Date #188.  And somewhere between the watermelon martinis, the Dos Equis XX, and the drama, I texted an xBF – Mr. Big. 


My message was simple but straightforward: "I think this life is killing me."


Of course I received a dutiful response asking what was going on.  I was, at that moment, asking myself why I'd texted him in the first place.  For starters, it was a moment of complete weakness, I admit.  But I also remember thinking at that moment – between all the drama - that it would be helpful to go to my "happy place." And at that particular moment in time, HE was my happy place.


About a week later, he explained that he'd be in Atlanta for work, and asked me if I'd like to go to dinner.  I figured it wouldn't hurt – it was just dinner with an old friend, right?  So, I agreed to pick him up at the airport. 


He'd indicated that he'd be at Vestibule S2, and I made my way through the arrivals lane.  I was stuck behind a red minivan and couldn't see to the curb.  I slowly inched forward, and glanced to the right.  Suddenly, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, and as I raised my eyes up toward the people standing on the curb, I spotted him immediately. 


And time stopped.


And after what seemed like the longest of pauses, he got into the car and we headed to Midtown.  I  brought him by my place to check out Zoe – he'd been with me when I first met her at the greyhound track, and I wanted him to see how well she'd settled into her life as a Midtown Hound. 


From there, we went to dinner at Bacchanalia.  Fabulous place – if you're ever in Atlanta, I highly recommend that you check it out.  But even more wonderful than the haute gastronomy was my company.  And as we talked about old friends, horses, situations, and life in general, I just couldn't help but notice just how good he looked.  In fact, he looked healthy, relaxed, and dare I say "happy."  And I was happy.  Happy for him – happy to be spending an evening with him. 


But this story doesn't have a storybook ending. 


In Big Fish, Ed Bloom gets the girl.  But in my life, I don't get to have the guy.  Because when it comes to the lapse in time – I think I'm the only one that noticed it.  And I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one whose heart pitter pattered the moment he sat in my car. 


And appropriately enough, on the ride back to my condo I heard the most fitting Johnny Cash song:  "It ain't me babe, no no no  - it ain't me you're lookin' for, babe." 


And now time just drags by. 

Posted at 4/11/2007 6:13:01 am by Nibs
(4) Have Been Clubbed

Wednesday, March 28, 2007
too damn happy

i barely know what to do when i'm so happy that posting about it seems like a dare.

last time i gushed over a guy i had my heart snapped!  of course it was a blessing b/c now i'm with the Beer Guy and things are sprouting up all over the place.  good green things that come out of rich soil.  soil that (i assume) was nourished by the decomposition of past relationships.

maybe poop and dead things are what really give life to new beginnings!

we're going on a mini-break together for 3 days. we leave tomorrow.  don't really have much planned, except that road hummers are off limits.  i don't want to die with a dick in my mouth and the back of my head crushed by a steering wheel. 

will report more when i return and i'll try to find the happy place between sheer joy and sheer vulnerability... but does such a branch even exist on the tree of relationships??

Posted at 3/28/2007 10:40:55 pm by gak
(3) Have Been Clubbed

Monday, March 26, 2007
Disaster Date #188

About a month and a half ago, I started corresponding with a guy from match whom, for practical purposes, we’ll refer to as PV.  Sorry I can’t get much more creative than that, but after 188 first dates, you start to run out of funny monikers.


Now, the reason it took us a month and a half to finally rendezvous is because PV has been traveling for work.  He has one of those jobs that takes him all over the world, which is cool because business travel = lots of free “me” time + potential free vacations.  But all shallowness aside, our phone conversations went well, he seemed funny enough, seems to have a cool job that he likes, he has an artistic side (he paints), and hell, he lives within walking distance. 


So I met him out.


It was a Saturday night date – we met for drinks on one of the various patios near the park.  And everything was actually going quite well.  There was no verbal diarrhea, yet there were also no awkward pauses.  And after about 2 hours or so, he asked me if I’d be interested in meeting up with his friends in the Highlands at another bar.  Sounded like a good idea at the time. 


We went back to PV’s place to drop off his car and pick up a cab (so he’s responsible, which is good).  His place was clean, contemporary, and has a killer view of the park.  Oh, and it had pillars.  I’ve always had a mad fascination with pillars – not sure why.


BTW, I didn’t check out the bedroom – it wasn’t THAT kind of date.


So, we eventually met up with the friends, whom upon first impression seemed really cool.  And after about an hour or two, the scene at the bar died down and we moved to the bar next door.  And that’s when the “fun” began…


Incident #1: Drunk guy shoves Nibsie into a chair

So, at some point one of the exceptionally hammered friends shoved another one with such force that he lost his balance and pretty much fell on me.  I can handle a little horse play, don’t get me wrong, but the bruise on my leg is pretty long and relatively deep – it was no light push.  And it’s no fun coming back from your dates black and blue. 


Incident #2: Drunk girl tells Nibsie “Fuck You.”

So, as the night progressed, one of the girl friends who’d actually seemed pretty cool had drunken herself into oblivion and needed to go home.  Honestly, I was worried about this girl, and offered to head out with her.  She actually lives in the building next door, and it was getting late.  But instead of taking me up on the offer, she turned to me and said, “Fuck you.”  I was astonished.  This comment came out of right field – it was bizarre.  There was NOTHING I said that should have returned such a brazen reply.  PV was diplomatic at first, but when Fuck You Girl replied with a smug smile and additional nasty commentary, he ended up telling her that she was being a bitch.  


Incident #3: Drunkboy falls on table

So, PV decided it was best to migrate away from the friends and over to an empty table.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I don’t think he was anticipating that one of his pals would shove another with such force that he’d end up falling on our table and shoving it into me.  And all I remember doing is throwing my hands up in the air and saying, “That’s it.  I’m done.”  And we left.


Now, normally I’d have enjoyed the train wreck drama, but there was something about this that reminded me of Andie’s first date with Blaine in Pretty in Pink.  You know the scene – they arrive at the house party, and she’s just different than everyone else, they’re all hammered and acting like drunken fools, the blonde woman isn’t nice to her, and she pretty much just wants to leave.  And Blaine whisks her away and is all apologies.  Yep.  I was living it. 


All the way home in the cab, I just kept repeating myself:

“Wow.  Wow.”

Shaking head back and forth.

“Wow.  That was a first for me.  Wow.  I’ve never been cussed at before on a date.  Wow.  Wow.  I think I just need to process this.  Wow.”

Slightly hysterical laughing.

More wows.

And PV just kept apologizing, but the message just wasn’t getting through.  Because it was all just so, well, wow.

And then he said something like, “So, would you even consider a second date?”

And I just replied, “WOW.”

Paris Hilton has “hot,” and I just have “wow.”


The Aftermath:

Sad but true, sooo many of my dates have an aftermath.  As does this one.  I awoke the next morning to sight of multiple bruises on my legs, including the deep, dark purple line on my thigh.  It’s hot, trust me.  Had I known this was going to be a contact event, I’d have stopped by the Sportmart for appropriate padding.    


And sometime around 6 or so, I got “the phone call.”  The one that says something like, “Things were going really well up until we met up with the friends, and I’d hope that you’d consider giving this another chance…”






Posted at 3/26/2007 5:00:49 am by Nibs
(5) Have Been Clubbed

Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Big Time Sorry

Posted at 3/14/2007 7:06:22 pm by gak
(8) Have Been Clubbed


God Says Yes To Me

Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes



Posted at 3/14/2007 2:10:42 pm by gak
Club me!!!!

Sunday, March 11, 2007
9 Hours--- and No Annoyances!

Dare I jinx this, but it was a terrific first date.  T-rrrifico!!  The Beer Guy called me at 11 am and we talked for a half hour and he said, "hey, the weather's great! let's make an early start of it!"  And I said, "Sure thing!"  And thus, plans were made to meet at a complete dive bar at 4 pm...  I was nervous and if i had collected the sweat from my palms, I'd probably have about 6 ounces of fluid.  I went to Vietnamese nail place and got a (rare) mani-pedi so that I could wear open-toed shoes with confidence.   My nail tech's name was Charlie.  Am I the only one who thinks this is a funny choice of "american name?" lol.  p.s. How do you pronounce "Nguyen?"

We met at Jimmy's Jigger and the best thing when we first met was that he hugged me.  I mean he really hugged me like a big ol' bear. For a whole 5 seconds!  Dammit, good hugs are soooo important to me.  Also, he had great ears!  I am a total ear snob. I can't stand weird chubby earlobes or wavy cartilidge or ear hair and his ears passed the test brilliantly.  I mean, it's not a dealbreaker if they're wonky, but it's nice to see good-looking ears on a man. 

Conversation and beer flowed like, well, like beer!  We had two drinks there, then went next door to a new restaurant I'd never been to.  He used to work with several of the people there so it was nice to see that they really liked him.   Also (pay attention here guys) he introduced me to each of them immediately after he said hello.  Example:  "Brian! Hey man! This is Gak. Gak, I used to work with Brian."   Why is that so hard for dates to remember?  As Damone says in Fast Times, "It's a classy move."

Walked to one more bar on that street and it was getting a wee bit chilly by this time. I didn't have a coat but he said that we could go to the car and get his.  He pulls out a jacket for me and also says, "I got you something."  Then he lifts up a box that says 20 pack Boulevard Pale Ale (I love Pale Ale!) and I thought that was sweet.  He said I had to wait to open it until I got home.  I asked him if it was beer and he said nope. 

This could turn into a novel, but I feel I must document the evening so bear with me here.  This could be my next husband or the fodder for my next box of Kleenex.

Stopped at a place called Fric-n-Frac or something like that and a momentous first hurdle was jumped:  He told me I had a "piece of skin" and motioned to his nose.  Holy Shit! I had a booger!!  And I am sooooooo glad he told me about it with such class!  I mean, this could revolutionize the indication of "You've got a booger!"  When he used the term 'piece of skin' it was like it took the embarrassment out of the situation.  Ironically, and I swear this is true, when I was getting ready earlier, I looked in my mirror and thought to myself, "I wonder if he's the type of guy who would tell me if I had a booger."  And apparently he is!!!!  He takes the shame out of things with his gentle soul.  But he also has a semi-distaste for society so we get along brilliantly!

Beer Guy and a booger free me then decided to head over to Inge's, my favorite piano bar in a strip mall where the minimum age for entry seems to be about 55.   In the parking lot before I got in his car to go there, he asked if he could kiss me b/c he couldn't wait one more minute.  He said he'd been waiting an hour already and had to do it. So I happily obliged.  SCORE! Good kisser!!! And whew, the awkward "Is he going to kiss me?" moment was luckily averted.  

At Inge's we had a blast (is that word too 1950s?) listening to the old lady singers and he sipped Pabst Blue Ribbon while I laughed at him, the Beer Guy, drinking the cheapest shit around.  I got drunk on Pabst and Old Style in 1997 and have never had a sip of either one since.  When you're pulling over outside Wrigley field to throw up peanut butter toast the next morning, the sense memory stays with you.  It also made it hard to enjoy peanut butter toast for several years.

Oops, forgot to mention that we ate dinner at Chick-Fil-A.  I know for a lot of you it's no big deal, but we just got them in Kansas City so he was crazy insane to stop there. He didn't know they'd already opened and when we drove by he flipped.  I think he's from Georgia, actually, and he missed it a lot.  He apologized for the shitty dinner but said he'd make it up to me.  He doesn't like pickles so they were lying there discarded and I gobbled them up.  A perfect match.  lol.   (isn't it funny how the little things seem like happy omens when you want them to be?)

And isn't it hilarious how when you're young you think that adults don't misbehave or have much fun?  And then you find yourself in your mid 30s in the parking lot with the seats reclined, making out like you're a couple of teenagers at the drive-in.   I jumped on him, he jumped on me, and we just necked and laughed and hoped the cops didn't knock on the window .

It's going to be tough to carry out my VDS (Vaginal Defense Strategy) to keep him out of the trenches for a month, but I'm going to persevere.  Like Big Time suggested (Jeesy Keeristo, I can't believe I'm actually listening to Big Time) I will cease shaving, but that's my best idea right now.  And it's actually pretty weak.  But don't you think that jumping in the sack too soon can wreck a good thing?   There's such a short window of opportunity for the pleasure known as dry-humping.  Hee hee.  I mean "pants-on-scissor-action" is an all-too-briefly available phase when you're totally turned on by the newness and the fun of it all but you haven't gotten naked.  Once you fuck, you really can't reclaim the magic of innocent clothes-on grinding can you?

He called me today to say thanks for the great time and said it was a magical evening.  He was out in the woods hiking with his dog and said he'd never called a girl from his special place befoe.   Hmmm, my first thought was, "That's where he must put the dead bodies." 

 I mentioned that I'm going out of town soon and said I hoped we'd see each other before then. He said, "I demand it!"    I thanked him again for the booger check and he said that I'd have to tell him if he had spinach in his teeth.  Then I said, "Oh my other thing is that sometimes I get lipstick on my chin when I eat sandwiches." And he said he'd tell me if I had any on my nose after kissing.  I said, "Dude! Lipstick on my nose? That would have to be with someone with a big mouth. But then again, YOU kind of do have a huge mouth!"  And he said, "All the better to kiss you with, my dear." 

Is that sweetness overload?  Sorry I couldn't help it! It's all true!   Actually, I know that  by commiting this to the blog I have ruined any chances of this turning out well.  There's that chipper Gak attitude! 

Posted at 3/11/2007 5:02:30 pm by gak
(10) Have Been Clubbed

Previous Page Next Page