Okay, I felt my journal was insignificant because of the war and the fact that Iraqi mothers are losing children, and American mothers are losing children, and it's bad. But. This journal is an outlet for my emotions and my thoughts, however brilliant or stupid they may be.
So I'm not deleting it.
You guys are nice.
No more talk of the war. I'm putting a moratorium on that.
Although... I'm having trouble writing letters to Omar and Mario. What do I say to Mario? "The sex was great, stay alive so we can have it again"? I think I'll just take naked pictures for Mario and bake cookies for Omar. And pray to any deities that might be out there.
So I'm not deleting it.
You guys are nice.
No more talk of the war. I'm putting a moratorium on that.
Although... I'm having trouble writing letters to Omar and Mario. What do I say to Mario? "The sex was great, stay alive so we can have it again"? I think I'll just take naked pictures for Mario and bake cookies for Omar. And pray to any deities that might be out there.
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Good ones, too. No shortening or margarine. Lots of butter. Slow-baked so the butter mixes with the chocolate and it gives the cookies this nice fudgy taste.
It's not much of an excuse but I'll take it.
Anyway. There is a point to that story. Really. I didn't get to it, but that's OK, I'll pretend like I meant to structure it as a two-part essay or something and I'll disavow all knowledge of this comment, even before a congressional panel. Especially before a congressional panel.
Anyway. Send naked pictures overseas, people overseas like naked pictures, and if it does cause the pain and disgust and colick and twisting of the guts like you say, well, it might help 'em upchuck an MRE that want sour.
Sometimes a balm, sometimes an ipecac. Nekkidness is flexible like that.