Gosh, Me?

I'd like to thank all of you who made it possible. All the people who suffered through living with me. All my friends in real life (yes, Dorothy, there is such a place) who still speak to me. It is to you, my faithful fans, I dedicate this award. I call it Barbie on a Half Shell. I need that gown.

Dr. Ziaus was telling me, just the other day, that for a woman who talks about writing, I never seem to get around to saying anything. Well, Fuck You, Too. I do too write. I'm a slave to it. It has it's way with me all the damn time. It's like telling me, after I pledge to commit to 100 days of sex, that I actually was expected to follow through with the threat. I can hear husbands and other men I've Known (if you know what I mean), sighing and saying, "She's so full of shit." And I ask you, is that nice?

But I digress. And don't I though! Often. I even come to your place and digressed plenty. I don't bother to listen, or watch, and sometimes I skip the post and get right to the seduction or rant, what ever you wish to call them. Kind of like Scarlet did to me, when she offered to ship it. I thought she was serious. WTF! Not only do I have to go get it, I have to learn how to link it back to it's charming originator, AND HER, but I get to pass it forward into the bloggy goodness. But I have to LINK it forward as well. Well, fuck me! I'm all for the passing it forward, but what the hell do I know of this thing you young people are so fond of, this word, "link" I know it when I see it. I know how to push it like a little button and up pops something else. Well aren't you all smart. Why can't I learn to do this link thing???? It seems like a dream I once had and I can remember the characters, but other than that it's a complete mystery.

Oh, and one other thing I'd like is the ability to strike through, as if I were using a pencil and said one thing, then decided against it, and drew a wavy line through it. Randal? Are you in the audience?