Call the babysitter, it's going to be a wild night.

So, I've been conspicuously absent lately. My class will be done on the 27th and then I'll have a little less than a month free to write about the everyday nothingness that is my life. I feel bad that I haven't been keeping up with this place. I feel really bad that a post about dancing goat heads has been at the top of my page for so long.

I've been getting out of the house more lately, which I think has done me some good. I didn't realize the extent of my cabin fever until I became reacquainted with the outside world. I was beginning to think that people only talked about via*gra and ways to get medications for cheap. Apparently all e-mails aren't true.

Speaking of e-mail, I got an interesting one this morning. The e-mail wasn't particularly interesting, it was just another one asking me to buy via*gra. (James will be happy if I let you all know that we don't need any.) I just think the various subjects for the e-mails are creative. I suppose you don't really want to give your e-mail a subject that will make the reader delete it instantly. Although, I can honestly say I have never thought about oil rags that were in love. Maybe this is some new sex term that I’m not familiar with. Have you ever heard of oil-ragging someone? Sounds kinky, and kinda dirty. The actual title of the e-mail was "Not start at enamored oilcloth".

The “not start at” part is kinda confusing though. Maybe it’s a statement on the lack of romance and foreplay these days. You should not start with “oil-ragging” someone. Oil-ragging is something to work up to. You should all think about this. Slow down the passion, save the oil-ragging for later, we’ll all be much happier if we follow the cryptic e-mail’s advice.

After thinking about it some, maybe the title does have something to do with via*gra. Maybe this e-mail has opened my eyes. Maybe they don’t actually want me to buy the via*gra, but just wanted to share a deep message with me.

From now on, I’ll concentrate on the romance and keep the oil ragging in a pile in the garage. The heat from that pile will eventually spark the fires of passion. Thank you cryptic e-mail, you’ve changed my life.