Random Bits

Since SJ sent me the link for extreme tracking, I have had some pretty normal search hits.

Boobs, sexy girl pictures (Sorry Ichiro!), sex diary (boy were they ever disappointed), just basic stuff you kind of expect.

But this? This makes me worry about you internet.

Tickle Belly Attacking Raspberries.

I'm wondering if it was the same person looking to "Tickle His Belly".

Seriously internet? This is what you are looking for?

I mean, 'tickle his belly' maybe but do you really need instructions for that?

I'm almost curious enough to ask about the sexual perversion that involves attacking raspberries. Almost.

After the round of e-mails I got from some foot fetish people, I know better than to actually ask.


*Hurricane's sleep issues have caused the Mr X to do the thing I HATE with a fiery fury.
Research.
It makes him insufferable.
It wouldn't be so bad if he would just stop with all the questions.
"How long does he nap?"
"What time does he nap?"
"Does he sleep with his head to the North or South?"
"What song are the birds whistling in the morning?"

He calls me throughout the day, wakes me up from the little sleep I get, interrupts my quality slacking time with these damn questions.

My only relief, is that he thinks he's found the answer.
I'll admit that it makes sense. The timing fits. I give it a week and if there is no change, he's going to see his Dr.

*Speaking of, Mr X pushed his Dr's appt back to June. Because it's fun to make me crazy. No, really.

*I am taking special measures to avoid our neighbors across the street right now. Why? Silly internet. You should know by now, I've once again made an ass of myself.
We have a mole problem (they came from these neighbors yard). The little bastards don't have the decency to just go the hell away already.
We tried castor oil.
We tried poison.
I threatened to sick my dad's little buddy on them.

So, when I counted 7 holes in our yard this morning, and realized that they didn't care that I didn't want them here, I went a little bit crazy.
Girl X was eating her breakfast, Hurricane was Opening and closing the bedroom doors (I don't know, I don't ask), so I went outside, in my blue footed pajamas (yes, I am an adult who owns a pair of footed pajamas. Shut up.) and stuck a garden hose in one of the holes. I stood back with a shovel in my hand and waited for the water to push the little bastards out.

And when they did come out, I ran screaming, slipped on the wet grass and nearly knocked myself out with the shovel.

When I got up, I saw my neighbor with her purse in her hands just staring at me like I was the world's biggest idiot.

I guess I don't have the heart to play whack-a-mole with the real thing. It's a shame too because I'm really good at it!