Up later than normal and had interrupted sleep last night.

When my brain is too mushy to digest anything with any real content, I’ll surf hirsute sites such as bear411â„¢. It’s like Friendster for fat hairy homos… Some are looking for love, some for sex and others just friends and new drinking buddies.

Aside from the base-thrill of thumbing through forty-three some-odd thousand people who mostly don’t mind posting their naughty-bits on the internet – I get a perverse thrill out of reading what people write about themselves.

Why would anyone label themselves “average”.

“Hello sir… would you like the clam chowder made with exotic spices and New England clams….. or… the paste.”

“Oh.. I’ll just have the paste thank you.. Yup I’m a paste kinda guy.”

Maybe I’m dangerously confusing “Simple” for “Average”… In school “average” was a “C” and generally the invitation for the “go ahead and work at a gas station for the rest of your life” lecture from my dad… *I bet tenured employees at Valvoline Quickie Oil Change have health insurance.

While I’m at it… why would anyone “Seek Same”.

Is it a fear of the unknown or a form of narcissism?

I for one would kill me if made to date myself…

This little factoid keeps me in a constant state of gratitude and awe. Not only can I wake up in the morning without an axe in the back of my head – but they actually love me too.

I’m not blogging – I’m trying to wake up…

(*reaches behind head and feels*)

Yup.. No axe.