OK, so my grand plan to hit you with my best blog shot and fire away with some majestic take on the state of modern relationships fell to the wayside. I’d like to blame the SLA, but really, I have to blame the Pour House, with its Frosty Mugs Of Beer and Heaping Plates of Boneless Buffalo Wings. Then I went home, flipped on “Queer Eye”, and almost lost it watching Mr. Skater Boi be all romantic to his Italian hottie of a wife. For a minute, I honestly thought the Fab Five were gonna battle to the death with shivs for the right to corrupt this man. But maybe they’ll save that for sweeps.

In any case, I’ll leave with a prime example of why I shouldn’t allowed a lot of free time with Instant Messenger at my side. I give you a quick snippet of a conversation with Tara, aka Freya, aka Tink, aka one of the blog readers I’ll be meeting in Chicago next week. As if I needed more reason to be excited to meet her, she dropped the following knowledge on me yesterday…hope you enjoy. And if you don’t, just pretend you do. I’m a roll of people actually “boosting” my ego, as opposed to “reducing it to ash then stomping on it”. I am heartily preferring this current trend.

***

Tara: Hee. I need to buy "The Wedding Singer" on DVD.
Ryan: totally
Ryan: seen 50 first dates?
Tara: Yep. On V-Day.
Ryan: good flick
Tara: I enjoyed it immensely
Ryan: moi aussi
Tara: tu parles francais
Tara: ?
Ryan: heck no
Ryan: moi aussi is about as far as it goes
Tara: *sigh* c'est dommage
Ryan: you're a dominatrix?
Tara: no, I'm a cabbage
Tara: I'm a cabbage in the slaw of your love
Tara: Hee
Ryan: that's, um, well, something.
Tara: hahahaha
Tara: Well, I thought it was funny
Ryan: indeed
Ryan: maybe we can just think up ridiculous metaphors for love
Tara: Hmmm
Ryan: like, "you're the attachment in my email of love"
Tara: "you're the potato in my exhaust pipe of love"
Ryan: "you're the cement block in my mafia-murder of love"
Tara: "you're the citation in my caselaw of love"
Ryan: "you're the results pages in my google search of love"
Tara: "you're the ryan in my blog of love" (OK, that was ass-kissing, I admit it.)
Ryan: "you're the fetid corpse in my CSI of love"
Tara: "you're the wig in my Sydney love-obsession"
Ryan: "you're the product placement in my American Idol of love"
Tara: "you're the captain in my tenille of love"
Ryan: "you're the underaged girl in my R Kelly of love"
Tara: "you're the alcohol in my AA of love"
Ryan: "you're the suspension of disbelief in my ‘The OC’ of love"
Tara: "you're my falco in my amadeus of love"
Ryan: "you're the Miss Cleo in my telephone scam of love"
Tara: "you're the four-letter word in my crossword of love"
Ryan: "you're the max martin in my swedish-based pop of love"
Tara: "you're the Aquanet in my hard-rock band of love"
Ryan: "you're the Ipod to my MP3s of love"
Tara: "you're the chlorine in my pool of love"
Ryan: "you're the flashed boobs in my mardi gras of love"
Tara: "you're the clear liquids in my Long Island iced tea of love"
Ryan: "you're the 'line about to be ironically juxtaposed with a visual gag' in my 'Buffy episode' of love"
Tara: "you're the spandex in my WWF/WWE match of love"
Ryan: ok, that's just mean.
Tara: heh
Tara: some people would enjoy it
Tara: OK, OK, "you're the batteries in my vibrator of love"
Tara: Better?