Thursday, Apr. 17, 2003
Dear Diary:

So apparently you can use a tire patch kit to repair leaks in that sex doll you bought at a garage sale.

Hey. No need to thank me for the sex toy repair tip. I'm all about sharing the knowledge.

So, uh, how did I manage to find the answer to the question you've been hesitating to ask at your local .:cough:. do-it-yourself .:cough:. store? Well, a new site appeared in my statistics.

Yes, I have my first link from a blog devoted completely to sex.

The only thing I can say is:

WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG?

Finally. After over three years of sharing my big adventures with threes upon threes of loyal readers, my Inner Bimbeau has been acknowledged. Finally.

Let's just pause here a moment and give this the consideration it truly deserves. I mean, really, when you're thinking about the sex, what pops into your head? A woman in her 50's who's been happily married nearly 30 years and obsesses about fitness, gardening and cats?

Exactly.

IT IS ABOUT TIME THAT MY SECRET IDENTITY WAS UNMASKED.

Now where did I put those leopard print capris?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 207.67 miles (334.1 kilometers) Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers

Going Nowhere Collaboration

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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.

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