It’s my birthday. I’m 26. I’m feeling strangely okay about this.
The server has almost fully recovered from last week’s attack. My e-mail is back up and running, so I’m once again receiving all those helpful e-mails about Rolex watches, bigger penises, larger cumloads and moms I’d like to fuck (all of which, coincidentally, can be found on my birthday present wish list).
Actually, there are two new spams I’ve gotten that are pretty amusing. One is some sort of spray can that promises to make your license plate invisible to those traffic cameras that catch you running red lights. It’s the sort of product that causes one to marvel at the ingenuity of capitalism. The other is software that will help you vote as many times as you want for “American Idol.” I, for one, am encouraged by the youth of today’s zeal for participatory democracy.
I’ll be at Botanica (Houston and Mulberry) tonight, “celebrating.” Please, no autographs.
I call mine the “building trades belly” (even my cat has one- a sympathy building trades belly). I must have gotten some psychic vibe that it was your birthday that prompted me to check-out your website. I admire your ability to keep it updated. Despite your birthday, you are still a youngster with much energy for such projects. (I have to include an aside because I am watching the local news and they just showed a cheerleader falling from the top of a human pyramid. They put her on a stretcher, in a neck brace, and she kept cheering…made me think our Canadian colleagues). See you in July…