Then there was my train ride this morning. I may start a new feature called "Train Fashion." Check this out.

I think this outfit really says something. Something like, I got some cloth paint and wrote shit all over my clothes.

What you can't really see in the pic is that FUBU is written in black at various points. If FUBU actually mass-produces this mess, I'm highly disappointed. I really like most of their stuff that I've seen.

Can you see that she's wearing two jackets? The writing is all over the under-jacket too. When I first saw her, she wasn't wearing the leather jacket with leopard-print lined hood. The full ensemble without the leather jacket makes quite an impression.

After my eyes stopped bleeding, I was able to stalk her and be sure that I sat directly across from her on the train. Then I pulled out the quick-guide instructions to my camera and pretended to just be playing with buttons and adjustments while I took her picture several times.

The fake-fiddling strategy is what I plan to use if I ever see the elusive Russian Poodle Mullet again. I'm afraid that chick has stopped smoking or changed her hairstyle.

As halfheartedly promised. Here's our Bob Eubanks stand-in from yesterday.

Ladies, he's single and he's straight. Gainfully employed. Doesn't live with his parents.

After Deb finally came back home from kissing Jake on thier front porch in the dark and put some goddam food in front of me like she's s'posed to, we had a nice dinner of leftovers. We tucked in early and read some more Agatha Christie.

I myself had a chance to sneak next door this morning and pay Sara a little visit, but I decided not to. That stupid work-ethic gene kicked in and I searched futilly for artists instead. She'll probably kick me when she finds out.

And that's about it for family news. Ho-hum. I'm already looking forward to my next Sara date. I tried to ride Jake's momentum last night and get Deb to mess around with me, but no dice. My chances are never good on one of her work days anyway.

She sure looked sexy when she walked in naked during my diary updating yesterday, though. She let me lay lips to her nipple without smacking my head. Ummy. A fine little moment in my evening.

Finally, I'm now reading Jamie Harrison's "The Edge of the Crazies." So far so good.

I finished "Nick's Kind of Woman," (author forgotten already) which wasn't at all bad for a romance novel, but the cover art and the title sucked a hairy pair.

Soon, soon, soon Suzanne Brockmann's newest, "The Defiant Hero," will be out. I loved her last book, "The Unsung Hero." That woman can write. Turn up your nose at romances all you want (yes, this badass butch reads romances), but when they're good, they're great. Brockmann consistently kicks ass.

I learned some of my best Alpha Male moves from her.