Yesterday at the train station I saw this geek guy (and don't get me wrong, 'cause some of my best friends and lovers are geeks). The kind of guy who preregisters for DragonCon a year early and has his own special room at the Marriott.

He was wearing a suede duster. Like the kind a really well-paid cowboy would wear. Cool as shit coat. But this guy could just ... not ... live up to it. He had long hair tied back in a ponytail and his pants tucked into his combat boots. But he still looked like one of the guys who works behind the repair counter at CompUSA. I'm thinking "Highlander" track.

In completely coincidental news, Ed Kramer, the co-founder of DragonCon facing child molestation charges, is out on bond again.

There's a really tasteless light saber joke in there that I'm just not gonna make.

So I sent Deb the link to one of my diary pages yesterday. Just one. And she starts talking about how she finds this online diary popularity wave so fascinating, like when her husband used to be on bulletin boards in the middle of the night with just a few scattered (all male) computer geeks in the '80s and now e-mail is everywhere, and how it creates a whole new avenue of expression for people.

She used the word thesis. As in, somebody could do their thesis on this. Or maybe it was dissertation. Whatever.

It was too much.

She can overanalyze anything. And suck the fun out of it in the process.

I love my wife, but that woman done had too much book larnin.

Personally, I think the anonymous audience online diary is the perfect venue for me because I want to write it well. With other people out there reading, I can't just throw any piece of shit up. I want it to be worth reading.

I don't get bored with it because I'm always trying to make it more interesting.

And maybe some online girl will think I'm hot and I'll get a back-up fuckbuddy out of it.

Speaking of which, if the cute redhead with glasses (about 5'8" or so, anywhere between 160 and 190lbs, nerdy looking in an interesting way) who was on the elevator with me this morning is out there, call me.

Stupid smoker tricks: I set my mustache on fire yesterday with my lighter. All right, I singed the fuzz on my lip. Shut up. Every woman has hair on her lip. Mine's not too bad, but it's darker near the corners of my mouth, so it looks kinda Fu-Manchu-ish. Or like Boris Badinov. The wind shifted while I was trying to light my cigarette. I could smell the burnt hair.

Did I think, "God, this deadly addiction really is ridiculous. You stand out in 20 degree weather and freeze your tits off and set fire to your head just so you can smoke. You really should quit."?

No. I thought, "Whew. I'm glad it didn't spread to my nostril hair."

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11