There she is...

I admit it. I was one of four (possibly five) lonesome freaks who actually watched the Miss America Pageant on Saturday. It wasn't easy, yo. First I had to scan the Comcast gauntlet in search of CMT, a channel I hope to avoid in the future. Then I had to steel myself for the festivities. I couldn't resist-- I've watched this pageant nearly every year since I was a little girl with a budding hard-on for sequins.

I can't understand where they find these chicks. They're all 21, but made up to look 35--no wonder I always assumed the contestants were "mommies" when I was little. They have immobile hair, and as Jonny succinctly put it, they look like they tan with goggles on. I know there must be communities that manufacture these young ladies at a clip, but they sure ain't north of the Mason-Dixon.

I don't feel particularly bloggy today. I woke up earlier than usual and took my stepdaughter to school. Turns out teachers still scare the living crap out of me. One of them looked like she was about to grab me by the scruff and haul me into detention! If I'm gonna get the stinkeye from authority figures, I might as well earn it next time and wing some bottle rockets into the girls' john.

"Candy Girl" got a glowing review in the New York Post this weekend. Yay! As Sparky from Bring it On might say, PREPARE FOR TOTAL DOMINATION. Or something.

My dreadlocks smell like head. Time for a shower.