I'm still trying to seduce Pischina, too. Amante, who is probably still recovering from multiple lap dancings (lucky girl with very thoughtful friends), reminded me that the best thing about lesbian sex is having the orgasm. Actually, that should be orgasms. As maaaaaaaaaany as you want, Pischina. They literally flow from my fingertips.

*Badsnake flits around her office like Tinkerbell, waving her magic fingers and cooing "oooohhhhhh" like Glinda the Good Witch of the North.*

*Not really.*

The tradition for our office is to bring back hokey, cheap presents for your coworkers any time you do a business trip.

This is what Terry brought me from Monaco.

You press down the big red button and the gears turn and it makes a noise that sounds like a dolphin. Kind of. I plan to take it home and terrorize the cats with it.

"Blacula" was not all that bad. Sure the acting stunk most of the time, but it wasn't as bad (i.e. cheaply produced) as I thought it would be.

The best mistake was when Blacula (the worst name ever for a vampire) was getting ready to kill the black gay antiques dealer. He shoved the guy's head to one side to expose his neck and in the process knocks off the actor's huge afro wig. The rest of the takes of that scene must've been even worse, because you sure as hell can see the wig flop off. And I'm pretty sure that was caucasian hair underneath. So I think the black gay antique dealer was actually a white guy in black face. They may have had a hard time finding a black actor willing to play gay or something. I don't know.

I also didn't understand why Blacula sprouted extra facial hair when he "vamped out" (like when the vampires on Angel and Buffy get the big ugly foreheads). I could've done without the humongous bushy eyebrows and cross-the-cheek sideburns.

"The Replacements" was just what I expected it to be: a funny, feel-good sports movie. Fun, but not extra challenging to the old grey matter.

I made the commitment yesterday for Deb and I to go to San Diego for Sara's long-ass walk thing. I was choking and holding my heart over the price of plane tickets and Sara was making fun of me. I asked her to remember that I'm the one who used a set of waterbed sheets for 15 years before thowing them away. In fact, if it was just me, I'd probably still be using them.

Anyway, there's a good chance we'll get to make some lesbian pancakes for Miguelito in our hotel suite. Deb's going to pack the waffle iron.

We're going to have fun.

I found the digital pics I took of Katie.

When I look at the spot on the bedroom floor where her bed used to be, I feel like I'm looking for Tiny Tim's damn crutch. Dammit.