Check out the ankles on her!

I'm a liar. Due to a late day at work, chillin' with Grandpa, an unexpected phone call from my buddy Patrick in LA, and of course, the latest episode of "Meet My Folks," the update is not done yet. I will tide you over with a quick story. Last night I went to Boogie Nights in Lombard with Mel, Jake, Shanny, and crew. At one point Mel and I were walking past some people when Super Mario and Princess Toadstool (aka a mustachioed man and his stanky breathed wife) asked if they could see our ankles. Confused, disturbed, yet damn curious, we complied with their requests, and they seemed pleased at what they saw. Princess Toadstool commented that her husband liked thin ankles, and they then called over their Koopa Troopas (aka sons) to play a little game of "Meet My Folks" (no lie detector) and see if they could make some love connections. We beat a hasty retreat and went back to our table, but is the ankle a fetish I wasn't aware of? Holla!

Coming very, very soon. . .

I had planned to update fully tonight, however an unforeseen trip to Boogie Nights with my favorite Cemeno's waitress and co. is preventing me from doing so. If I get back early enough, I will update. If you have any complaints or would like to join us, call my cell. Until then, two news flashes:
a. Someone tried to find my website using the search words "Naperville midget porn." Does this mean that someone was looking for the beloved bespectacled midget of the south suburbs in compromising positions? Say it ain't so!!!

b. There was a Herald News blotter entry on Friday about how a man tried to pick up a teenage girl by asking if he could "Do an R Kelly on her." Shame, Shame, Shame. . .

c. A brief Ohio story, until I finish the final update (don't cry Megan, I promise I'll have it up tomorrow night at the very latest). As we three girls strolled through the park in our wet clothes, due to the "seven waterfalls" (details later), an African American woman came up to me and said, and I quote, "My boy wants to 'holla' at you." Not knowing exactly what that entailed (was I supposed to "Holla back young'n, woo woo?"), I said, "Ok." She called over her "boy," but apparently he had a case of the "holla jitters." Oddly enough, he was NOT wearing a "Holla-ster" shirt.

I'm off like a prom dress, talk to you later.