Lameness Abounds In Martini-Land.

So, it's a Saturday night. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was gettin some serious lovin. But tonight? Here I sit, blogging for your pleasure. My father is down in the living room snoring like the old man he is, and my mother (whose eye is healing nicely from surgery) is snoring right along with him. When did I turn into such a party girl? Don't answer that.

May I reiterate my sheer hatred for Kyle Orton and the Boilermakers? They piss me off far more than the average football team should be allowed to. They've managed to hammer yet another nail into Tressel's coffin. As D says, "Tressel-ball should be just about over soon. Geiger's too corporate for this shit." He's right ... Geiger's got several real nasty scandals to hang his hat on, and he needs to hit the eject button on Tressel before he gets even dirtier.

And yeah, the Irish lost. And fucking Boston College won again today. I know. It's been ten years. I really need to let it go now.

Tomorrow: A trip to Target is in my future for this little gem. I need it. I must have it. And also, I have to go to a bridal shower for a family friend. I'm going to put on the happy face and smile and shit. And there won't even be anything worthwhile there (like beer or mimosas). Have I mentioned this week that I hate being the family spokesperson?

Anyhow, here's some Saturday Linky Goodness for y'all. Enjoy.

Check out "Person Price". Like Nicole, I'm actually a bit confuzzled that how much I masturbate somehow factors into this price. I'm worth $1,933,059.05!

I'm seriously considering writing a short story for the Writer's Digest 5th Annual Short Story Contest. I am nowhere near the same league of writing capability as Eden, but it might be fun just to give it a whirl. Although, admittedly, most of my best work is certainly not the stuff of mainstream fiction. Shall I say that it leans more toward erotica?