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my mom now knows about my sex life...

I wasn't gonna update, but there's too many little things to mention:

My mother is not capable of getting online by herself. The synapses just don't run that way and I've long since given up on her seeing my site unless I talk her through getting there myself.

So i think i'm kinda safe.

Of course, last week's entry was a real popper, and thanks to my sister-in-law - Judith reads it. Even the Sidebar.

Pop fills out the guestbook to let me know they were there.

J only spent 5 minutes on the floor repeating "...ohmygodohmygodohmygod... they'regonnahateme...ohmygod...theyregonnahateme..."

Yeah.

I got new Anonymous fanmail this week:
---------------------------------------------
Subject: Website
  Date: Sat, 2 Oct 1999 16:41:33 -0400
  From: "Charleston Gazette Obits"
    To: slappy@slappyjack.com

Hey, just thought I'd toss you an email and tell you that your site rips my ass a new shithole. I'm at work and although I'm supposed to be typing obituaries, I find myself reading your site and cackling like a hyena. Just thought you should know.

S.B.
---------------------------------------------

"your site rips my ass a new shithole"

Now that's frigign funny.

Nice to know that my site gives light to the dreary lives of Obituary typists all over. Maybe I can get into one of their trade mags or something...

Then again, I also got this:
---------------------------------------------
So..I'm thinking: if you lick my plastic prosthesis, I will let you win a prize... the prize would be an offficial "Smurfy site of the Day" from the Smurf Fun Club to place on your site.

Assume the position
---------------------------------------------

wierdo.

We got a little ant problem, so J goes out to buy ant traps.

simple.

She gets home - "I got us 3 ant traps. You think thats enough?"

I hear spraying while I finish the dishes. "Kills on Contact!" shes yelling...

I peek around the corner to see her not just spraying liquid death on the line of buggers on our floor, but dousing thm with the stuff.

All this scene needed was to hear her yelling Liquid DEAAAAATH! You little Fuckers!

I open the bag from the store.

Three boxes.

THIRTY traps.

I haven't seen a bug around here since then.

I'm tired. This time change on TV shows is killing me, not to mention the fact that I get on a train everyday at 7am to get to work now...

oy. sorry kids. Filthy's right - i'm turning into a big pussy toad.

Slap Out

5 Oct 99

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