You know that Garth Brooks lyric, "She was waitin' in the kitchen with nothin' but her apron on"? This slip makes me think of that song. It's a "we're going to be late for dinner" slip.

Unfortunately, Jake was here when Deb came out with it on, so I couldn't throw her over my shoulder and haul her off to the bedroom right then. Except, now that I think about it, Jake wouldn't have cared. She'd have locked up for me. I'm such a dork. And then I went on to spend another hour on the computer trying to get my last damn diary up date done.

I got to wake Deb up this morning after the dog walk so that we could carpool to the train station. Over breakfast, she was reading the Land's End big girl catalog.

Day-yum!

Fuck Sports Illustrated. This is the swimsuit magazine I want to look at. Yowza. Real women in real sizes in bathing suits. Deb could model for that catalog. But she scoffed at me when I suggested it. (I know, Weet, I know. There's a rash of scoffing.) I'm just saying.

And wow, Suki on "Gilmore Girls" has amazingly beautiful cleavage. And skin. She must use that skin butter stuff that Weet uses.

I think Red Bull makes you stupid.

Which kind of cake would you like? Cheese or beef? The firemen were back at the food court again today. This time without shirts.

Back upstairs at my desk, the maintenance guy for my office building kind of creeped me out by talking to me about how he's started going to the new Hooters restaurant near work about three times a week because he finds it relaxing and how he has a t-shirt that all of the girls signed, which bothered his female supervisor. Then he started talking about how he's never going to wash the shirt because he doesn't want the signatures to wash out.

So, I figure I need to take my camera and have a big ol' Badsnake field trip to Hooters real soon.