Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Whussup?
I’m still a bit under the weather (note to self: bad idea to blow off blood pressure meds for a week), so here’s a quickie. What’s up with all my links?
Over at Ishbadiddle, there’s a link debunking the Christopher Walken presidency bid. Bunch of kill joys; next thing you know, they’ll be saying that the John Cusack for President campaign is phony, too.
More political commentary: Jeff Huber updates us (More Dubya Talk) on the latest Rovewellian Newspeak, and Jurassic Pork contemplates the future of the Red vs. Blue fracas in Crawford, Texas (“So we have in the red corner . . . trailer park white trash whose wives and kids go to the same pediatrician” — hee hee). At HuffPost, Cindy Sheehan responds to the latest right wing smears and reports on the right’s cross-and-flag desecration yesterday.
What are my new romance buddies up to? The Bitches and friends are having an interesting discussion on how to sustain unresolved sexual tension in a novel. (I solved it thus: my giant spider, Bare Rump, keeps kicking the shit out of my giant fly, Argh, in order to save his life. At one point, Argh tries to repay the favor. He clobbers Bare Rump on the head with a heavy stone, hoping to knock her out so he can climb on top of her to protect her from flying vermin. Bare Rump’s response: “Ow.” Guess ya had to be there.)
My future harem queen Kate Rothwell is having a vagina monologue over at her blog, and Beth has been holding forth on scones, phones, and answering machines. My exceptionally tall pal Debi wonders which words drive traffic to your blog. Guess what, Deb: tantric sex doesn’t do it. And Maureen, where the heck on your blog is your tantric sex reference? Oh, great, that’s three tantric sex references in one paragraph! Anyway, Maureen, I added myself to your cool world map. Where can I get one?
Elsewhere, my favorite dominatrix Gabriele is having a bad hair day, and Demented Michelle proves yet again that she’s one of my psychic twins by blogging on Dunkin Donuts on the very day I went off my diet with (cue Outer Limits theremin music) DONUTS!
In case you’re wondering if I only hang out with girls, Pat is cooking beef stew while listening to Rob Zombie, and Wenlock is haunting the moors.
Last but not least, Paperback Writer is back in business!
I’ve undoubtedly overlooked a number of you. Feel free to promote yourselves shamelessly in the comments.
Tomorrow, if I’m up to it: my dark history as a child actor.
D.
so where’s my link, Doug? 🙂
This is WEIRD. I had you under my ‘new pals’ — or thought I did. It’s on my template, but it’s not showing up on the blog itself. I’m going to try your other putting up a link for your other blog.
Meanwhile: everyone check out It’s Not Porn, I Swear. And she’s right — it isn’t porn ;o)
Hah! I figured out the problem. I usually included a target=”_blank” bit after the URL part of the (a) tag, and for yours, I dropped the second quote. That mucked up everything.
Problem solved.
Man, I’m all over this HTML thing.
Thanks, bud! 🙂
Well after you’ve put yourself on my guestmap (!) you can click on the link that says ‘create your own’ :o)
Thanks, Debi. Done and done!
hmmm… Clearly your readership consists of a bunch of prudes, Doug. The reference to tantric sex was in a comment someone left, not in anything I posted. At least I assumed it was the tantric sex that drove my counter wild. Maybe it was the reference to Leonard Cohen.
Now… off to place myself on your map. BTW – you set yourself down on an airport in mine.
Wait until you see the pics I posted. Heh.
New Englanders have a serious donut fetish.
M