OK, so dudes do read this thing. In fact, I should have known that since I counted Jr. Slab as one of the four or five people reading this thing.

So, I wrote a check for TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS TODAY. At one point I wrote a larger check for THIRTY-SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS, but at least at that time it was for a car for ME, not a house for my stupid sister. OK, so it’s not my money (it’s my mom’s) and my sister promises to pay us back. I wasn’t so sure about the house, but our friend Jason likes it and he’s a contractor. It doesn’t have a garage, and it has a few too many stairs to get into it for an old person (IT WILL BE HARD FOR MY DAD TO VISIT) but I suppose it’s an OK house. I’d have to see the inside to make sure.

So, there’s a woman from San Francisco flirting with me. She won’t tell me too much about herself. Even after I used my smoothest line on her, asking if she had any personal photographs, the kind where she’s shooting milk out her nose.

Hmm. Maybe I need to work on that.