Oh, THERE I Am...I Was Beginning To Wonder...

OK, two more redheads AND THAT'S IT. This is getting out of hand, but I figgered I'd get these last personal requests out of the way.

This one's for Mark just 'cause he asked and 'cause he likes 'em blazing hot, especially when mixed with a heaping handful of "borderline psycho".

Oh, no, wait a minute. That was ME that likes the dangerous ones, now that I think of it. My bad.

Ah well, either way:Be careful, Bud. This one looks a bit feral. She'll prolly bite. With a bit of luck, anyhow.

And this one for Archer, who likes BIG girls:

And how are the rest of you? Been out and about doing...well, this and that. Time to get back into the swing of all this, answer roughly 273 emails I'm behind on, which has probably got some people I actually care about annoyed, and like that. As usual, I'll be providing a full explanation for my extended absence. -----> <-----
Uhm, actually, come to think of it, I don't do that. Whew, that's a relief. Sorry. I'm back for now, so that'll just have to do.

It's all for the best. I'd just have to lie to you anyhow, which I'm told is a Bad Thing. Another one of them social rule thingers I've promised to try to keep up with. Well, not promised. More like agreed to. Or, more accurately, have been advised...heard once in passing? Uhmmmm......

Oh, fine, the truth? The truth is that I'd go ahead and lie to ya (parse THAT sentence fragment after a bit o' JD), but frankly I'm no good at it, and probably no one would buy the cover story about the aliens and probes and all that anyhow. Even though it would be the truth. Sorta.

Well, actually, SOME probably WOULD believe it. It always surprises me how many of my readers are into that sort of thing. Probing I mean, not aliens. Unless you're talking "aliens" as in "wetbacks". I happen to know that a lot of you clowns/clownettes would pay extra for a vigorous exploratory probing by a small team of sweaty Latin American field hands.

I mean, I'm not naming names or anything, I'm just saying that a single-track fixation on redheads doesn't even register on the weirdness meter around this neighborhood.

Crap...where was I? I had better odds of answering THAT question before Blogger went tits up for about a half hour there. Right in the middle of this post, too. I had a whole 'nother page and a half of stuff including witty observations on Bush, Sex, Democrats, the Religion O' Peace, Sex, Jack Daniels, and Sex, but it all swirled into the electronic megacrapper when I punched the "Update" button at approximately the same time that Blogger had a brain fart.

Ah, well, it'll all come back to me.

In Our Next Episode: I remember where this was headed.