blush

Thanks to those who chose to add me to their list of blogs to follow as a result of yesterday's mewling and simultaneous bashing of your collective consciences by my dear blogly buddies... Yes, both tactics worked, but that's all you'll hear about it from me, for I it appears that I am a widgetless fool who doean't have the necessary accessbility to reach the dizzying heights of DOZENS of followers.

Don't get me wrong, I rather like my template, but it lacks....accessbility (that is necessary for gross adoration and slavish followings). This lack has not yet caused me to leap off the metaphorical bridge into CHANGING it to more widget-friendly code, but I'm thisclose, oh yes I am. All's I need is to copy out the sassy header and have it available in a new-format template, right?

Anyone out there raising their hand in fervent volunteerism to help me get this gasping bitch off the ground?

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Back in the glory days (of about 4 months ago) I could do things on this blog like 'format' and 'insert pictures.' This is not the case now, as it seems the Dark Overlords at Work are moving to restrict my access to fun buttons and neat shiny objects that would make this pathetic site something more interesting than fly-speckeled pablum....

Chew on THAT, internet.

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After tonight's pedicure, my toes are a shade of polish called "I'm not a waitress."

Once I picked it up and saw the name, there was no other choice but that one.

Gentlemen, think of deep red sports cars with an engine that makes you want to do naughty things. Ladies, think of that girl at the community pool you use to hate, but wanted to be like, even though her belly jiggled.

I have THOSE toes. Lucious, tawdry, fast, throaty, inviting, playful toes. RED frigging sparkly toes.

It's JC's fault, and it makes me smile.

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Young men can hide a prodigious amount of wax in their ears. Throat-closingly large amounts. Hint - a little H2O2 in the ear canal, a strong stomach, and a couple dozen cotton swabs will restore hearing in a just a few minutes.

Ask me how I know. I dare you.

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That's it. Just got a call from the globetrotter, and he's safely 'home' in bed, so I can go be similarly oriented. Tomorrow comes early, and only the well-rested catch the bagel!

Toss one, and see if I'm a liar.