The big news today is that our bowling alley burned down.

Deb sent an e-mail to the Emergency Backup Girlfriend hotline saying our neighborhood was full of smoke. She did a walkabout but couldn't tell what, exactly, was on fire. But she could tell it was big. News helicopters flying around, major column of smoke, the whole shebang.

I confiscated one of my underlings' radios here at the office and found out it was the bowling alley from the news updates. This is the bowling alley I've been promising for two years that I'd take Sara to. We just never got around to it. You know, if we've got a couple hours that we could spend bowling or having sex, the decision making isn't too difficult.

I'm enjoying the hell out of Tess Garritson's "Gravity," a Sara recommended book that I bought from Half.Com. It's a biohazard on the space station thriller, and I've been plowing right through it.

I've also discovered Amaneunsis by backtracking from my site meter. She seems pretty cool, and I plan to be digging through her past if I can find the time. I can't really pinpoint what I'm liking about her diary so far. I haven't run across anything super-thrilling or exciting, but the writing is good and completely unselfconscious. Plus she uses all those cool British words.

Hope she doesn't mind the link. Apparently a mention here can now cause stampedes of traffic on unsuspecting Miguelitos. I just want to make it clear that Mig did not promise to service me orally; I just decided to make him blow me when I found out how much this trip is going to cost. Guess I spoiled the surprise. And, Mig, the plane tickets will be coach. My DNA doesn't permit me to purchase first-class seats. I still expect first-class head, though. Don't worry, Denzel is too big to pack for short trips.

I've also got two girls fighting over me in my guestbook. Liosha, Space-Gurl, please, there's no need for that kind of behavior. I must insist. Unless you can find a proper circular cage enclosure and some wet, filmy clothing, all this hair pulling and nipple-wrenching must cease. I must admit, however, that I would tend to favor whichever one of you could bring me Jeneane Garofalo naked or make Emma Thompson my love slave.

*Badsnake waits for the Google Bingo hits to roll in.*

Dinner last night was bangers and mash. That's British for sausages and mashed potatoes. But you know Deb can't leave a recipe alone. She used venison sausage that Lucy and Ricky had given us and crumbled it up into bits in a pan of gravy and served that with the mashed potatoes. Oh god, that was good. I probably ate a couple pounds of it. The venisen didn't taste deer-y at all, and the seasoning was just right.

Ricky and Lucy have been really generous since they moved in and I treated them to a drive-by mowing. So far they've given us chocolates, trout, deer, and some Italian alcoholic lemon syrupy stuff that I forget what it's called. I plan to mow their yard a lot more this summer and see if we can score some new living room furniture.

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