Shoes. Platform shoes. I love ’em. They give me a few inches of height without being as dangerous for me as stilettos. They give me the wiggle without endangering my running ability. They add sass to my walk and a touch of jaunt to my jiggle.
Oh, shit. Sorry. That was a pleasant digression, but not the point of this entry. First of all, I got a comment from a birfer going by the name of “Jack”. I am not publishing the comment because then the nutjob will have limitless access to commenting on my blog, and I don’t want that. Instead, I will produce it here so I can point at, laugh at, and mock it:
“The time lines, places, actions, motives, when analyzed, support, and are consistent with, what is the answer to the Obama birth puzzle:
Obama’s grandmother is his mother and his mother is his sister.
Think about it. Review all the facts and claims. ”
My dear, dear commenters. Let’s all turn to Jack and laugh uproariously in his face. I mean, I thought I had heard it all with this birfer shit, but this, this just takes the fucking cake. Dude, if you’re a parody troll, then my hat is off to you because this is fucking brilliant in its lunacy. It pushes aside the whole Obama’s father is a Kenyan who diabolically plotted to impregnate a white woman in Kenya before arranging for Barack Obama’s fake birth announcement to be placed in the Hawaiian papers so that forty-plus years later, Barack Obama could hoodwink all of America and become President of the United States. It doesn’t even bother to address the whole natural-born citizen versus naturalized citizen debate that is raging in the birfer world. Oh, no, this comment is even crazier than all that.
My fellow Americans. Today, I sit proudly before you in order to announce my candidacy for the 2016 presidential race (I am assuming that President Obama will win his reelection campaign in 2012). Why am I announcing my candidacy so early? Because I have done jackshit in politics, so I gotta start kissing ass now!
One hour. That’s all it took before I felt like a big, ugly oaf. That is when my mom brought out the clothes she had brought from Taiwan for me. This year, the fashion over there is skinny pants coupled with long, slim shirts. Now, even in my best of times, that is not a look that works for me because I have BOOBS and HIPS which most women over the age of twelve have. Well, except in Taiwan, apparently.
Come take a trip down memory lane with me. No, you don’t have a choice (except to not read this entry). It’s like when your friends plunk you down on their couch and make you watch the videos from their family vacation. No matter how much you protest, you know you’re sunk. In other words, the sooner you shut up and just do as you’re told, the sooner it will be over.
No, I wasn’t. I was actually cleaning my refrigerator, but that didn’t sound like a snappy title, so I didn’t use it.
Well, since I’m up when I don’t want to be (like that’s anything new), I thought I’d whip off an entry since I slacked off last night. Then, I really must clean as we (by we, I mean I) are coming down to crunch time. The score is tied, and with 5 seconds left, a good point guard knows to drive the lane, weave back and forth a few times, and then let the time expire. Also.
All right, mateys! Up next is item number two on my list, losing weight. You might want to put on your hip waders because it’s gonna get dirty and ugly up in here. Why? Because when I talk about weight issues, it ain’t pretty. This time, I’m looking at the issue of weight mostly from the viewpoint of auditioning, but as is always the case with this issue, I am sure I will veer into other territory.
All right. Sit back, relax, grab a pop or a cup of coffee because this is gonna take some time. Yesterday, I told you I found the meaning of MY life. It has been a slow road, to be sure, but I have finally made it to this point. A month ago, I outlined 7 goals in my life. Here is that 
I’m back, bitchez! Did you miss me? What’s that, you say? I wasn’t gone? Yes, I was. Didn’t you notice the sappy Minna hanging around for the past couple of days being all, you know, emotional and shit? Well, I sent her to her room without supper, locked the door, and ate the fucking key.
Have you ever met someone with whom you have such a strong connection, it doesn’t matter how much time passes, you always pick up where you left off once you’re together again? I have met one such person, and what’s more, I’ve been fortunate enough to have her as my best friend for the last fifteen years, and I cannot imagine my life without her.