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Sexy Leska


As I am a devoted narcissist, I never miss an opportunity to Google search either myself or a clever search term I spot among those used to find my blog.

Nothing gets my inner dog detective stirring faster. (Inner dog detective isn’t a euphemism, but it should be.)

Which is why I was delighted to find someone looked up the term “sexy leska” to find me.

Me in a quiet moment of repose

So, I did the Google search myself, retracing the footsteps–as it were–of the person of impeccable taste who had used the search term before me.

Pictured here.

And while the first couple of search results were indeed my site, there was another that piqued my curiosity.

And also intrigued my dog, Lucky Hank.

It’s quite possible that the person wasn’t looking for sexy Craig man-meat, but rather a “sexy” cartoon.

Apparently this cell painting is sexy to someone.  Okay, the blue hair is a little sexy in a Marge Simpson kind of way.  Wait.  Pretend you didn’t read that.

Who is this sexy imaginary character, you might ask?  Well, MyAnimeList.net gives the following description:

“First Princess in Arara Kingdom. Leska is Da Cider’s partner. Her real name is Cafe au lait but Da Cider called Leska. Leska is sexy, brave, and likes money. Leska and Da Cider were bad guy at the beginning, Their identity is revealed later. Her past life is Princess Cafe au lait who helped Founder Ramunes.”

So, once I sifted through the horrible English and found the few nuggets of meaning in there, I found that she and I have a lot in common.  We’re both sexy, brave, like money and adore cider.  However, there is one significant difference between the two sexy leskas:   I don’t have armor that covers only one boob.

This armor opens up a whole can of worms.  Why is there armor over only one boob?  Is it because her right boob is super strong, impervious to all attack?  Did she just leave her other boob-cover at home?  Is it simply a comfort thing?  The mind boggles.

There is no simple answer to this, and since I am Sexy Leska, rather than Brainy Leska…

Brainy Leska is my brother, Nate, who like Brainy Smurf wanders around topless, except for a green scarf.

…it is unlikely this mystery will ever be resolved.

In other words, it’s exactly like the “Walter is special” plot thread in Lost, which was–ironically–lost.

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Spam Mailbag Time


It has occurred to me that I have done an awful job in answering my spam e-mails recently.  This simply will not do.  These bots require constant attention.

Rather like Terrell Owens.

So, without further ado, let me grab a quick screen capture of my spam…

Done.

As you can see, the first e-mail is from Dope Hats.

Pictured here to demonstrate he is no liar.

Mr. Hats writes:  “I savor, lead to I discovered exactly what I used to be looking for. You’ve ended my four day long hunt! God Bless you man. Have a nice day. Bye”

Dear Mr. Hats: I am delighted to hear that not only did I lead to you discovering exactly what you used to be looking for, but that you are enjoying it to the utmost!  Too often people forget the four-day long hunting journey at the moment of discovery, but you, good sir, have chosen to savor it.  Good for you.  And thanks for the blessing as well.  I consider myself well compensated for my efforts after having received your e-mail.  You also have a good day.

The second e-mail comes from Dieta.

Funny. Dieta sounds like a woman’s name and yet a Google search yielded this image.

Dieta writes:  “You know, I agree that people who live in close confines shouldn’t allow their cats to bother neighbors who don’t welcome them. However, as a cat lover and the owner of a dog who doesn’t really bark, I can say that it is just as irritating to a cat lover to have to put up with other people’s dogs not only making messes on their property but also having to listen to them bark non-stop. It’s like somehow they cannot hear their own dog when it is right outside their door barking for hours.”

Dear Deita:  You clearly feel very strongly about this.  I am sorry for all the messes your neighbor’s dog has left on your property.  Perhaps if you shot the dog it would help with the barking problem?  Well, try it and get back to me.

The third e-mail comes from Shonda.

And, yes, I’m imagining the Shonda who wrote this is Shonda Farr. It’s my blog. I can imagine what I like. (Ah, beautiful Shonda…)

Shonda writes:  “Youre so cool! I dont suppose Ive learn anything like this before.

So nice to find any person with some authentic ideas on this subject.

realy thank you for beginning this up. this web site is one thing
that is wanted on the internet, somebody with slightly originality.
useful job for bringing something new to the web!”

Dear Shonda:  You sure are pretty, which is why I’m overlooking your marginal grasp of word meaning and syntax (as well as your back-handed compliments; “slightly originality,” indeed) and just flat out propose marriage.  Call me.

The fourth e-mail comes from Articles.

I don’t have a picture of Articles, so we’re going to have to make do with this picture of his personalized stationary.

Articles writes:  “I do believe all of the ideas you have introduced to your post. They’re very convincing and will certainly work. Nonetheless, the posts are too short for starters. May just you please prolong them a little from subsequent time?”

Dear Articles:  I agree. Come subsequent time I will indeed prolong my convincing, believable posts.  Thank you for calling attention to this failing.  I promise to improve.

And finally, there is an e-mail from Gold Account.

I’m choosing to believe Gold Account is Golda Meir‘s less attractive, half-sister… there might be something wrong with me.

Ms. Account writes: “Without free access to all information of importance for the interrelations between nations, a real improvement of world affairs seemed hardly imaginable. It is true that some degree of mutual openness was envisaged as an integral part of any international arrangement regarding atomic energy, but it grew ever more apparent that, in order to pave the way for agreement about such arrangements, a decisive initial step towards openness had to be made.”

Dear Golda:  Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Slow down, sister.  No one uses big words on my blog that isn’t me!  Nobody!  So you can stuff your mutual openness where the sun don’t shine, because the only international arrangement we’re going to envisage together is fisticuffs!  Good day!  I said, Good day!

And so ends another lovely look at my spam.  I hope you enjoyed it.  It’s not often I get to make a Golda Meir reference.  It felt good.

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So, you say you had a lovely lunch, do you? PPOR!!!!!!


Today I had a nice lunch with a couple of people I’ve known for years.  We showed up at the restaurant.  We exchanged pleasantries.  We reminisced.  We looked forward.  We ate.  We drank.  We paid.  We moved on.  All in all, it was a successful lunching transaction.

According to the standards of modern social networking, the lunch never happened.

But, then again, there are those who insist that Big Bird was never captured by the Empire, so take it for what it’s worth.

You see, neither of my lunch mates have Facebook or Instagram or a Twitter account…

Nor they do they have a myspace page, but who does anymore?

Ordinarily this isn’t a problem, but nowadays it seems like an event didn’t happen unless one of three things happened:

1.  Someone took a picture of the food.

or, rather, everyone took multiple pictures

2.  Someone took a picture of the “crew”

Everyone say, “Dude sandwich!”

3.  Someone let everyone else know where the food was consumed, who was there and linked the update so that it appeared on everyone’s wall, where they could officially deny it if it were untrue.

This was one SPECTACULAR lunch.

My lunch lacks all three and thus exists in the murky world of maybe…

Call it, the Odessa Lunch

…but doesn’t it belong there?  When did every meal needed to be photographed before consumed?  And, why–dear God why?–are kids getting alcohol enemas?

I know, a bit of a tangent here, but seriously?

When did it happen that people either:

A.) pre-supposed that other people want to see every food item that enters their pie-hole

Even when the food clearly ISN’T pie

or

B.) Felt an urgency to prove that they were indeed where they said they were, with who they say they were and have documentation to prove it.

It’s like someone is refusing to give them soup until they post proof. “PPOR!” the soup nazi shouted. “I don’t know what that means!” the twenty-something girl screamed back at him. “And who are you, anyway?” In the corner of the restaurant, Kramer cried a single tear.

It boggles my mind.  Folks who don’t use social media are people, too.  I can’t help but think that they are being somehow marginalized by an entire segment of society…

On second thought, it’s probably for the best.