Rainy Day Activities

I stayed inside most of the day, only venturing out when the dog made me. It seemed like one of those days where it was best to take care of the little things you never seem to get to. Put a few dozen songs on my Palm. I have no idea how long the battery lasts when you use it as an MP3 player but I can't imagine it won't get me through a half-hour of cardio. Musically, I'm all over the map:

English Beat-Mirror In The Bathroom
New Radicals-You've Got The Music In You
Kylie
Gwen
Bowie
Sly And The Family Stone-Dance To The Music

While I was at it I repaired the mistake I made by deleting files from my Palm so that I could use it to carry photos. It was a simple software re-install but I've been meaning to do it for months. Problem is, of the thousands of pictures I've accumulated, both photos I've taken and various hot hot mens, how do I decide which ones I simply must carry with me? Speaking of which, I also organized my porn on video, created a separate file to store it all. I love how people make up cute names for their porn file, in case, you know, someone finds out you have (shocking!) porn on your computer. I named the file DIRTY GAY PORN. All caps.

I edited some photos while I was looking at the porn files, I also emptied my camera of whatever pictures were on there. As proof that I was in fact in attendance at GB:NYC3 i stole this picture off Mark's posting, only 'cause I'm in it:















Me, Mark and Sean. Sean was definitely the "It" girl this weekend, and I've had a chance to look in on his blog. There's a lot of "there" there. Mostly while we were in Barrage I just peeked at him from behind a pole and giggled while holding my pee-pee. Notice the crazed, I need some medication before I snap and jab a broken bottle into someone's neck look I have in my eyes.

Here's a couple of pictures I snapped. I take them better than I pose.

Patrick and Tuna Girl. They were very nice.



Mark again. A cute picture.

In any case I chatted for a hot second with Joe. I officially met Glenn, although we're both reasonably sure we met during the Christopher St. pub crawl, the difference being this time I remember for sure. I met Chicago Blogger Palochi, who always read short to me, but so not short and so so not ugly. But then he didn't read ugly at all.

Oh, and now we know why "The Hoff" was all weepy in the audience at The American Idol finale. He's overjoyed he's found some work.