The mail lately has been... strange. Aside of the three well-meaning propositions from people who will remain nameless (I guess they were eager to jump the gun on my ad or something and told me more about themselves than anyone would ever need to know -- sorry guys) someone added some explanation about that "SOY BOMB" guy who was on the Grammy Awards a few weeks ago. Apparently this months' Rolling Stone explains that he's some sort of performance artist.
Also in the mail: two spam missives from right-wingish religious organizations, a spam about long distance service, and more details from Tripod about new goodies they want me to have. I may actually buy their CD-ROM... it has lots of free images on it. Not that I'll ever actually put them up here. I still haven't gotten around to putting more images up of me, of Fargo, or of my artwork or anything else. I am terrible about that.
Guys, I just have to ask you all this: what makes someone want to send off these too-personal messages to some girl they don't know, over the internet? If you all met me at a party or at work, you'd probably ignore me, but somehow my being here makes it all different? What's the attraction?
By the way, The Ad went in on Friday. It'll show up next Wednesday and run for four weeks. We'll see what happens. I'm not necessarily optimistic, but I don't think I'm being pessimistic, either. It's sort of a big audition for all the semi-decent guys of Chicagoland. And you don't even have to dance. Although it would help.
The guys who can't dance are the ones who should realize that they can't. And not try. This tidbit of Aunt Jeanne's wisdom comes from a leftover recollection from St. Patrick's Day. Some guys cannot dance, and they look really silly trying. I appreciate the effort, but somehow, girls who can't dance but try hard look much less silly than guys who can't. They must do it just to avoid feeling left out.
You can leave comments in my guestbook if you want to. It helps to know what you all think.