Well, since today was actually fairly busy with book-related things, I haven't had much time to spend updating my crazy blog. But, don't worry, reader. I am still on this side of the grass, and everything is slick and shiny.
Anyway, since it's getting somewhat late, and since I really am a lazy bastard, I think it's time to answer some comments and a few interrogating emails I've received. Hey! It's always fun. I love the questions and comments, ya know?
First, Natalie from Interface wants to know:
Dear Poem, uh..what does the d stand for?
--Comment from lurkynat"
Well, Natalie, the "D" stands for Dan (although, I know a few people who seem to think it stands for "dumbass"). I know. I wish it was something exotic and foreign like "Dimitry" so everyone could say "HA! I knew he was a bloody Communist! Die you pinko bastard!" But, it's just Dan.
Now, I keep the emails anonymous because I figure if you wanted everyone to know who you were, you'd have posted in the comments section at the end of an entry. But, if you do email me and want me to use your name in a possible future post, just put "say my name biotch!" or something similar somewhere in the subject or text.
Anyway, Anonymous Emailer wants to know:
"Dude. Are you [gay]? You hate women and love men, don't you? hahaha..."
Wrong. I'm not gay. I like women, and absolutely can't stand men. I don't know how women put up with us. Honestly. We are dumb creatures, and I think our only purpose in a woman's life is for protection. And, by protection, I mean "take a bullet for them." Why else would a woman pull from the fridge a hunk of something green and furry and say, "Eat this, honey, and tell me if it's bad."
The Delightful Mrs. L. (whose blog Mrs. Linklater's Guide to the Universe is certainly worth checking out) wants to know:
"How about a fried cheese eating contest? You can eat, can't you? Mrs. L
--Comment from jevanslink"
--Comment from jevanslink"
Well, so long as I'm not using tricky things like forks, knives or spoons, I can eat perfectly fine (think finger foods like eggrolls and jello-shots). As for a contest? Well... You don't want to go there. I can eat a hunk of cheese the size of a Volvo if I have to. Batter and deep-fry it, and you wouldn't stand a chance.
Another Anonymous Emailer asks:
"do u have a gf????"
(Doesn't that just drip no-end of cloying Hello-Kitty-esque sweetness. It's like an instant toothache).
No. I don't have a girlfriend. Do you want the job? And, trust me. It IS a job. In fact, you'd probably be better off shaving your head and joining a cult in Belgium that worships turnips.
Well, folks, that's all I have time for.