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09 September 2009
Confession time.→[More:] I don't know how to read or write.
I type all of danostuporstar's comments for her, she pays me with cheese toast, which I consume, giving me the energy I need to knock over local banks. I am so ashamed, but cleansed by this disclosure.
I have always assumed that danostuporstar was male. I had imagined msali typing up *his* comments, then going out and wreaking sexy wanton havoc. Now I have to recalibrate my fantasies.
Actual confession: When I was a student at Virginia Tech, I frequently thought to myself, "You know, marrying a veterinary student could be a very practical move for you."
Also: My license plate makes an obscure reference using unicode. Which is not totally unrelated to the previous fact, now I think about it.
Confession: It took me a full thirty years of living on this planet before I realized that the song "If I Said You Had a Beautiful Body (Would You Hold It Against Me?)" contained a double entendre.
Until last year sometime, I never understood why tennis players wore sweatbands on their wrists. "How sweaty can their forearms BE?" I thought. Then one day, I was all hot and bothered in the kitchen and wiped my forehead on the back of my wrist.
Specklet: I am in my fourth decade, and just learned something new about those wristbands.
I keep having dreams about going to this post-apocalyptic beach in Australia with a large, rotting dock/warehouse structure where people gather to go on short cruises while wearing formal clothing, aboard a rotting, rusting, blue and white ship similar to the Spirit of Portland. It's a persistent location in my dreams.