I Like Bread Butts and I Cannot Lie...

Seriously. Bread butts are good. I make two sandwiches out of them. Only one butt per sandwich. But the butt has to be on top. Just the way it goes. And I can't eat a sandwich using both bread butts. Because too much of a good thing is Just. So. Wrong. At least in my world.

In other news, let's pretend I posted this yestereday. Because that was my intention. I was playing the "What was I doing a year ago, two years ago today?" and what I found got me thinking. It's like, I always, always wish, in all my years of writing diaries and blogs and such, that I could go back now and console or encourage my past selves when I reread what they've written.

my ghosts on a page. And they feel so real to me. So present. But they're not really. They're the past. Haunting me in the present. And by haunting, I don't mean they make me sad, exactly. I just wish that I could do something to ease their fears and sorrows. And I can't. Because there's no going back.

And no. In fact, I have not taken up smoking pot again. If I had, this entry would sound a little different:

Dude. I bet you guys can totally tell I'm stoned. You can, right? Oh my god. That guy walking his dog out there? I bet you he knows I'm holed up here at the computer all...stoned. EVERY-FUCKING-BODY KNOWS I'M STONED! OH MY GOD IS THAT THE COPS?!

Heh. Had to lay off the leafy greens for that very reason many moons ago.

I pass on grass, man. But don't worry. I'm not all anti-grass. I'd just pass it to you. To puff or pass. Are you smellin' what I'm not smoking?

In other, other news. Sometimes I like to announce in casual company that my baby hole itches. I like to watch and enjoy the uncomfortable squirming that ensues before I confess I had a c-section. An artificial baby hole, so to speak. One which is probably a little less embarrassing to admit is itching.

Happy Halloween to all and to all a good fright!