2001-10-25 - 3:25 p.m.

My, oh my. Didn�t Badsnake ever learn that it�s not nice to pester baby dykelings? I�ve seen it happen before, and it ain�t pretty: Eventually the momma dyke comes back to defend her brood and either sits on you till you suffocate or cracks a stack of Holly Near LPs over your head.

If you�re wondering what I�m referring to, go read Bad�s entry from yesterday. Then go read her guestbook. Click back a few pages to get the whole story. By far, my favorite part is this:

"Man, you�re sick. You give lesbians a bad name. I mean, since when do lesbians like cocks or dildos?? Um... since NEVER!! What�s all that shit about doing all the �man actions� and pretending to cum on her face and chest?? That�s STRAIGHT sex not lesbian sex!!"

No, Miss Thang, that�s called FUN sex. It�s only "straight" sex if you�re in the missionary position, with the lights out, with the man ejaculating directly into the woman�s vagina and then either rolling over and falling asleep or raiding the refrigerator afterward. Oh, and the woman doesn�t orgasm. And the whole operation can�t last longer than five minutes, tops.

Geez, teenagers know so little about sex these days.

***

Last night I was talking to a friend who works for a skateboard company. I guess some of his coworkers have been freaking out at him for not opening their mail carefully enough. Anthrax, you know.

"At a skateboard company?"

"Yeah," he said. "Stupid, huh?"

"Hey, you never know. Maybe one of Bin Laden�s little minions got run over once by some skatepunks and has had a big hate-on for them ever since."

Not to trivialize the threat of bioterrorism, or to make light of people�s genuine fear, but c�mon already. If I worked for the post office, I�d be worried. If I worked for the federal government, or one of the major media outlets, I�d be shitting my pants and checking the peanuts therein for signs of contamination. But since I don�t, and I�m not, I honestly don�t think I have anything to worry about. I�m more annoyed these days by all the nervous nellies around me than angry at al-Queda.

Osama�s obviously smarter than we think. He�s making us look like a nation of worrywarts. Fuck that. If I have to go around the U.S. and personally bitch-slap everyone in the country who�s needlessly afraid to open their mail, this is going to stop.

***

If you�re a home-furnishings geek, go here next time you�re in San Diego. On my last trip there I scored a great-looking, solidly built 1940s-vintage sofa--freshly reupholstered, with leather-covered armrests and beautiful art deco mahogany accents--for less money than I would have spent for some brand-new foam-cushioned piece of crap that�ll be falling apart in a year. Now that I�m settled into this new place I have but one goal: to go straight from the thrift-shop-and-parental-hand-me-down-furniture phase to the cool-and-unique-furniture-that-makes-a-statement-about-who-I-am phase, leapfrogging the IKEA phase entirely. We�ll see how it goes.

Right now, it�s time to sip pina coladas out on the balcony. Anthrax? What anthrax?