Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Dear Diary:

Sunday afternoon two of my three loyal readers, Jen and Clare (who shut down her journal "Time Is Like A Clock In My Ass" and don't think I don't miss it still) dropped by to visit.

I will leave it to them to share their harrowing experience of trying to cross into Canada through the sleepy little border crossing near me driving a car with California plates, a car which did not belong to either of them. Fortunately the words "cavity search" are not involved, but it sounds like they were within spitting distance of the experience.

Some folks have all the fun.

The black flies and deer fly have died down here, but the mosquitoes were bravely taking up the slack. Nothing like walking around someone's yard enveloped in a cloud of mosquitoes and having them joke about the possibility you could get West Nile Virus.

Come to pestilence ridden Canada! We've got your SARS! We've got your West Nile Virus! AND when you come to our borders we will make you feel as unwelcome as possible!

Poor Jen. Poor Clare.

My cats, in a calculated effort to undermine everything I write about them, underwent complete personality changes. Norma, the cat who is always blowing off the spousal unit and I, positively fawned over Clare and Jen. "Hi. I love you. Do you love me?" was her general attitude. I half expected her to get into their car and drive off with them. Enid, our wildly affectionate calico cat, barely bothered to show her face.

Fine.

The spousal unit has always had deep, deep reservations about this on-line journal business. He worries about what sorts of people are out there, that the internet is composed mostly of deranged psychopaths. I reassure him that while I'm probably teetering closer to deranged psychopath than I'd like to admit, most folks you brush up against are amazingly normal.

Meeting Jen and Clare this weekend and Nicole earlier this summer has reassured him a lot.

Besides, Jen and Clare brought homemade chocolate brownies. A huge plate STACKED with chocolate brownies. They have been a humungous hit with the spousal unit, who has been eating them at an alarming pace. How alarming? Well, last night when I went to bed there were still at least six chocolate brownies left on that huge plate.

This morning? They were all gone, the empty, crumb-coated plate sitting in the sink.

He better not try to blame that on mice, eh.

--Marn

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.

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: 415.8 miles (669 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

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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