I have recurrent dreams about running in high heels. What gives? Last time I checked, I was five ten and-a-half. I have no business in heels, primarily because males taller than five-foot-four have no interest in me to begin with. But after watching Some Like it Hot, I can't help but think that I could probably muster a pretty good run-skip in foxy black patent heels. I can go pretty fast in hockey skates, I guess.

P.S. - What is it about short guys that gives them the predisposition to creepiness? Do they have some Freudian envy of my height as I allegedly envy them their penises, and this causes them to call attention to the fact that they are eye-level with my not-even-that-big boobs? Who fucking knows? Give me a tall guy.

These are the names that are not available on blogspot. Just to give you an idea of my preferences and, if you're stalking me, to verify that you were or were not on the right track.

neopolitan
icenine
ice-nine
simplesugars
thundercats
nocandy
sodapopculture

I think that paints an accurate enough portrait of myself. I curse you, those who possess aforementioned sites and have not updated but once since 2002.

Other news. I picked up the inaugural copy of Stitch. It's kind of weirdly refreshing to be interested in a magazine with a BLACK LADY editrix. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I found a certain novelty in it. Good stuff. She's precious. I dunno, I guess I'm white and female. For some reason this magazine makes me feel good. I feel that things are full of promise.

Things, I gather, have gone out of control.