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May 29, 2002

I'm not even kidding when I say that the only purpose of this entry is to tell you how excited I am that Leather Tuscadaro is on "Happy Days" right now, and that I am able to sit here and watch it.

Oh, my friends, she is ROCKING. She is wearing a sequined jumpsuit and she is ROCKING OUT. Richie on sax. Potsy...doing something. Chachi on drums. And one happy Amy Lester sitting on her ass, watching.

No. No no. It can't be. But it is. There are GO-GO DANCERS behind her. And they appear to be TWINS! It just doesn't get any better than this. It JUST DOESN'T.

I now have the power to see what search terms people are using when they stumble across my web page. Here are some of my favorites:

• The bride wet her pants
• Facts of Life font
• Orville Redenbacher dead
• Ass smell [I am now laughing out loud, just so you know]
• Weight Watchers girdle
• girls who fart [again, laughing out loud]
• Wham! t-shirt
• toothless ladies [are they still ladies if they're toothless?]
• punk rock baby

I hope everyone who came here looking for those items find their heart's desire. I really do. God bless you all!

Andy had a Blue Oyster Cult cd on his desk at work some time ago, and a co-worker stopped by to examine it.

"Do you fear the reaper?" he asked.

Andy replied, "I've been instructed not to."

You would think that someone who makes poops twice in half an hour, demanding to be changed immediately after each poop is complete, would have the decency to look sheepish about the whole thing, or at least empathetic.

Quinn and I hung out with my niece Maureen on Tuesday, the day Maureen graduated from high school. First she came over to practice her speech (after we ate our favorite McDonald's salads), then we went to Target to get some clothes to wear that night. While we were in the car driving around, I made Maureen read her speech as many times as she could. I think Quinn could probably give it at this point, except it would have to be in her native language of screeches and coos.

The prospect of speaking in front of 1800 people was making Maureen a little worried. Her hands were shaking and she was sure she was going to trip over her words that night, or look stupid in some other way. I ignored her moaning and made her continue to read the speech over and over again. Our final stop was to drop her off at her hair appointment, and by this time she was so nervous, and I was so nervous for her, that it was probably best that we separated.

"See you tonight!" I told her. She ignored me. "Don't fuck up!" I called out gaily to her retreating figure.

She didn't of course. She was great. Yay, Maureen!