physically fit (i like to move it move it)

paris hilton is giving up sex for a year. yeah, i know. i know.

it's almost just too easy.

give my kids a hose, a spigot, and a couple hours, and they can turn my backyard into lake front property. and themselves into 3-foot-high mud pies. and the carpet from light blue to brown-grey. and the vein in my temple to fill with blood that has been stolen from the part of my brain that is rational and maintains calm.

certain people should never, and i mean never be allowed to dance in the presence of other people. if they want to dance in their living room, cool. but never within view of the public. i was witness to one of these fellas recently. he actually did bullhorns with his fingers, something that looked like a boob-grabbing/tiger maneuver in the air in front of him, and actually rubbed his nipples. it didn't help that he looked a little like kenny g with a 70's porn stache.

though it would be fun to see a battle to the death between micheal jackson and porn stache kenny.

totally had a flash for a moment of ken-and-barbie-esque doll with long curly hair and a stache with "looney-moves dancing action!"

shit, i crack myself up.

and i want to do one of those dating video things. you know, like one of the rather well-known cable/internet/long-distance/fresh-fish/garbage-retrieval providers has on demand dating. i would sit there and do one of these numbers:

"yeah, i'm darth. i'm 35, and i like to play the bass and guitar [shut up!], and ummm, i write in this shitty little blog that no one reads [shut the fuck up!]. uhh, i like long walks on the beach at sunset [no, shut up, i am trying to do this thing!]. ah, i have a large crawl space and lots of black plastic bags [fuck, stop it, no! shit, see what you made me do?!?]"

i think that would be funny as hell. no, i am not seeking help.

and you know, as one of my close friends pointed out, the scary thing is that someone would actually call.

darth sardonic