--Poppy, laughing at my unfortunate evening

A joke for me this morning:

-- Mer on online dating

-- Mer on her first attempt at online fuckingdating

-- Him discussing my panties during dinner at a Mexican restaurant.

-- Me and him discussing the relative merits of this one Web site that I'm SURE he'll mention because he wants me to have that kind of crap coming here.

-- Mer on Rebecca's mental state

--Mer on why she can't go the teachers' end-of-the-year party anymore.

Incidentally, she was telling me that their IS in fact a way to make a different number come up on caller ID using a cell phone, because her creepy, girl-beating ex did it to her several times after she got the restraining order on him.

-- Mer on her upcoming trip to the Balkans, where she will be taking a class in intermediate Serbian at the University of Belgrade

It seems that the wisdom of The Mighty Wad is good and true: A friend of mine (who has asked not to be named for our purposes here) to whom I described some of his techniques has apparently used them on her loaver to excellent success.

Perhaps we can persude the Wad to impart with more of his sekrets ...

Because THAT won't attract the spammer dicks or anything.

So yeah, pretty provocative title, right!?! Well, tonight was cheap beer night at the Amarillo Roadkill, a Monday-evening tradition the Wad and I are trying to establish with some sort of regularity, and while I've been sworn to secrecy as to the nature of our conversations amid the sanctuary of the Roadkill and authorized to use the above in title only, it's NOT -- I repeat, NOT -- what it looks like. (I mean, for the love of God, people. It's the Wad, fer chrissake.) Rather, think of it as an inside joke that wouldn't be funny to anyone unless you were there at the time. It's a shame, however, that I've been sworn to secrecy, because tonight, the Wad reminded me of why it is I wish he were my real baby brother. Again, I know I'm not being specific, but trust me when I say that he amazed me with his insight, especially when it comes to the SoW. (For those of you not familiar with the Wad lexicon, that would be "Spawn of Wad.")

Anyway, so the latest in Chez Broad other than my fer-real crackhead cousin showing up on my doorstep last week? Notta lotta, but I suppose that's a good one to share, right? Yeah, I get home from a drive, and I'm walking out of the can half-nekkid when my buzzer goes off. I ask who it is, and she announces herself, and I'm like, "Who!?!" because it's like, why the hell would she be at MY crib. So I peek out the front window and sure enough, there she was, looking healthier than the last time I saw her, but still, my crackhead cousin was on my doorstep -- how does one handle that!?! If you're me, you let her up for a couple hours, allow her to fix a couple Jim Beams and Pepsi and hope that the time she spent in jail actually sunk into her head like she swears it has (not to mention check the ring thingy in your can that holds all your precious jewelry to make sure she hasn't horked anything). Of course, if your other cousin is correct, all the stuff the crackhead says about jail fundamentally changing her is a load of crap and she was probably sucking the glass dick in the can during the three or four times she went in there, but you know, you keep hoping she would at least have the sense to not bring that crap into your crib. Besides, it's not like I can prove that she was or wasn't because allegedly, crack doesn't smell.

But what really scares me even moreso than the fact that she may have brought wack crack into the crib is her mad lying skillz; like the Boy Wonder, she's one of those that concocts the exact blend of truth and bullshit to get away with just about anything, except she's MUCH better at it than he is. That's what scares me the most. Good thing I used my head and, save for the family stuff that I thought her dad, my cool uncle, should know, I kept my yap shut about the personal stuff.

--Mer on the state of her affairs

I'm just not buying "witty," though. Smartass? You betcha. But "witty" to me implies someone erudite and suave, and last time I checked, I ain't neither of them no how.

No, seriously. It's for a friend who recently had a good chunk of his leg removed because of diabetes. Although personally, I rather enjoy "Florence."

So anyway, you'd think this would be an easy thing for me since I tend to give nicknames to everyone and everything, but alas, since I've established no personal intimacy with said stump, I'm not feeling it. Therefore, I leave it to you to cut my dilemna down to size.