Sunday, Sept. 14, 2003
Dear Diary:

It being Sunday morning and all, the spousal unit and I slowly eased into the day and were still lying in bed at 8:30. I know. Insanely slothful. It felt wonderful.

The cats all sprawled on the bed watching us with the tense expectancy of creatures that are used to eating their breakfasts at 7. It's a good thing cats don't have opposable thumbs because we were getting close to the stage where they'd start throwing rocks at us.

Enid walked up to the spousal unit, began deeply sniffing his head, inhaling with loud snuffling sounds, which started him laughing. The cat is a goof.

She sneezed. We are not talking a polite little ker-chew here. What we are talking about is the 1812 Overture of Sneezes. It was a very uh, how to put this delicately � it was copious and it was liquid. The spousal unit pushed the cat aside and kind of brushed his fingers through his hair and when he hit the sneeze zone he made this ewwwwwwww face.

Look, I know it's snot funny, but I couldn't help myself and I started laughing so hard I almost wet myself. When he removed his hand, his hair kind of stuck up, which immediately made me think of the incredibly gross "hair mousse" scene from Something About Mary. I was laughing so hard I thought I might not be able to keep breathing.

"There's Something About Enid," I managed to gasp out.

Grossed out as he was by the whole situation, he actually laughed.

If that's not love, I don't know what is.

--Marn

P.S.--I have been told that the template of my diary doesn't work in Mozilla. I do not speak CSS and I don't know what the problem is. I throw myself on the mercy of my three loyal readers. Can one of you figure out what's wrong and tell me how to fix it? I would be forever in your debt.

There's no new inductee into the Bazonga Boosters Hall o' Fame, today no one decided to spend some of their hard-earned buckazoids supporting me as I run the Jog for the Jugs Oct. 5 in Montreal. Some folks have been donating but I don't recognize their names and they haven't e-mailed me to let me know who they are. To you mystery people, I want to say thank you.

No one new can proudly sport the shoddily Photoshopped yet justly coveted red rectangle below. *Siiiiiggggghhhh*

Boob oop de doop eh

P.P.S.- That iron woman, Karen is doing an unbelievable 60 MILE WALK FOR BREAST CANCER! If you don't want to sponsor me, perhaps you'd want to sponsor her. Yowza, that makes that 5K Jog for the Jugs seem embarrassingly short.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 423.24 miles (675 kilometers)
Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Half way smoochTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers

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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.

�2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.