Happy Halloween, y'all. What I was afraid of has occurred. After finally allowing my feminine side to out itself on Saturday night, I find the lure of wearing makeup every day VERY hard to resist, even if it's just nailpolish and some eyeliner. And yet, not. But today IS the day when all menfolks can unleash their inner crossdresser, ain't it? Enjoy. Partake, even.

Much love to the online gambling folks for FINALLY coming back to me yesterday and for the 15(!) heartfelt comments which surely did boost this simple country boy's euphoria for this little endeavour which he's undertaken. Thanks also to the software salesfolk for their 4 comments. Much obliged, y'all. Click on some ads, since you're scanning the archives and all. Then everybody wins. Hopefully, those posts aren't saddled with PSA albatrosses as well. Finally, a hearty much obliged to the drunken womanfolks what called out ''Hey, sexy!'' to me from the window of a pubcrawl bus on Saturday evening, whilst I was walking from the train to Carl's house. Badly needed.

Tonight is yet another episode of Dead Like Me, at 10ET/PT on Showcase. Watch the show. Learn about life and Death. Sign the petition (http://www.petitiononline.com/dlm1218/petition.html) to try and save the show.

I've been asked to help out a friend with his neopets (never been to the site myself, heard it's kinda neat, will check it out) obsession. And, since I'm nothing if not an enabler (and he signed the petition when I asked him to), I shall. http://www.neopets.com/refer.phtml?username=buddypal88 .  For some reason, even though I tried posting the link both cut and paste style and by actually typing out the fucking thing; the server has determined that one can't simply click on it and kapow, there you are. Sigh. Anyway, stop by. Check it out. Sign up if you wish.

I swear, Kristen Bell just seems to get more and more FINE with each passing episode of Veronica Mars that I watch. And she was damn fine from jump. I DO hope she's legal.

The best victims are those blinded by their own sincerity.

Yesterday, whilst sleeping, I found myself strangely unable to get warm. I dreamed of an argument regarding the separation of church and state wherein for some reason, I was unable to recall the word secular. Woke up in a cold sweat from that one, too. Thought I was growing senile. I know so few words as it is, I'd hate to lose any of them.

It seems that Tom Wopat, of Dukes of Hazzard fame, will be starring in the upcoming production of the Broadway (and movie) hit Chicago at the Jubilee Auditorium near the Manor beginning tomorrow. Needless to say, folks'll be coming out in droves (any excuse to use that word) to see this one. And who could ever blame them? Of course, this means that for the rest of the week, there'll be all sorts of traffic when I'm heading trainward on my way to work, which fucking SUCKS! I believe I may have mentioned my distaste for people.

The list:

1) Cliona of the Fair Hair (Irish goddess of great beauty. loved the handle.)

2) Kitty Genovese (her name has become synonymous with the dark and disturbing underside of big city life. despite the fact that like 38(!) people heard or saw some part of her being stabbed 17(!) times, no one even fucking TRIED to help her; claiming fear and not wanting to get involved.)

3) Josie Bissett (the ONLY reason I ever watched Melrose Place after Amy Locane left, I wonder what she's been up to lately. cool handle, also, and yes, she'd be cool to handle.)

4) Vesta (Roman goddess of Fire, both domestic and ritual; she presided over the hearth and the preparation of meals.)

5) Naureen Zaim (appears in Wedding Crashers and was a stuntwoman on Spiderman 2. professional boxer, high-ranking amateur babe. interesting mix of ethnic backgrounds.)

All right, off to eat 2X, then sleepytime. Hopefully, no little urchins (unless, of course, they're scantily dressed college girls) will come a rap rap rapping at my chamber door this evening whilst I slumber. Them, I'll give candy. Or money, depending on what they give me. Enjoy your Halloween, y'all.

Still suffering from a touch of tonightis, so we'll go bulletpoint-style today. Aren't I all professional-like, though? Yep, feeling just a smidge lazy this fine, somewhat chilly a.m.

Happy Devil's Night, y'all. Be good and be safe. Some of us are, you know, pedestrians. Try not to run us down like dogs in the streets, as I'm saving myself for getting smoked by my lovely neighbor's car. Try not to ruin that for me.

Good luck to New England Patriots' linebacker Tedy Bruschi, activated for tonight's game; his first game of the NFL season since suffering a fucking stroke during this past offseason. If he can come back from THAT, Joe Average should be able to make it in to work with a hangover Monday morning. Just saying.

Shout outs to Kim (kick-ass Blue Man Group getup, even if it DID make me homesick for Las Vegas), Carl (Daddy Mack Puss In Boots outfit), and Todd (showstopping Stuey (sp.?) from The Family Guy gear) for convincing me to don my lame, last minute, fake-ass The Crow dealio and head to the Halloween party last night. As well as to Leslie and Glen for hosting said shindig and to Tamara for getting herself out of bed to give us a ride to Carl's (thanks for letting me crash on your couch/futon dealio) when we found ourselves sadly unable to score a cab, and even stopping the 4X4 when she dropped us off. Nope, I don't ask much of the womenfolks. Also, to the guy dressed as Richard Simmons for donning the role of biggest (insert your own word here, as I'm feeling somewhat charitable today), so your humble narrator didn't have to and could focus instead on the drinking. Getting my drink on, as it were.

Sadly, there was a noticeable dearth of shapely young adorables at said shindig. Sigh. Likely for the best, though, as I was painted up like a 2 bit whore. Well, more of a sad clown, actually, but still. Let's go with looking less than optimal. Although my Armani cologne did smell nice, and, since I was dressed entirely (yes, entirely) in black; at least my outfit was passable. Functional (if I were, say, going to knock over the Watergate or do some wetwork), yet stylish. Although...there was one pretty little blonde woman, Ellen. Actually, she was fairly tall-like. She even seemed like someone that could allow me to give up this torch (or is it a cross? I've been toting it so long, I've forgotten) I carry for K. Unfortunately, it was more of a coupled-up, sophisticated-type get together than I'm used to/prefer, so I never had much of an opportunity to rap with her. Of course, that's also likely for the best. However, if, say, one of my friends were to talk to one of his friends who is Closer to her and see What's the 411?, I wouldn't exactly be threatened or offended. I believe I may have mentioned my very Can you start my orange? (thanks, Janeane) approach to life a time or 6. I did learn that word around the campfire has it that she may be single. Which, if actual and factual, is already a mark in the pro column. Why, yes, I may be FINALLY growing. Attracted to a woman that doesn't have a BF already. Wow. I do believe I need to lie down for a spell. I'm not sure my system can deal with this kind of stress on less than 4 hours of sleep.

I'd forgotten how much like home it feels to drag my sorry ass back to the Manor on the train in the wee smalls after leaving someone's house in the dark whilst they slept. Now, I just need to get back to the point where I'm leaving a WOMAN's house that way. Baby steps.

All right, to conclude my latest trip in the Wayback Machine, Dana and I and her girlfriend (whose name oddly escapes me) met up that Sunday evening (quick sidenote: I quite miss spending hours on the phone enjoying good conversation with a shapely young adorable, sue me; yes, I still get all junior high when I have to CALL the women (especially the 1st time), but it gets easier, and, I occasionally come up with spontaneously witty things to say; everything else I fake) and went to a fancy hotel downtown (get your mind out the gutter, you fucking pervs, it was our 2nd date; the kinky 3-ways and trashed hotel rooms usually come later; like I said, I'm on the accelerated plan) to meet up with some more of their friends. It was an enjoyable evening, her pal was kinda fly (and friendly), and any excuse to spend time (aww) with my current objet d'affection is good enough for me. Their friends invited the 3 of us to come back the next day, Monday, and spend the day hanging out poolside. Dana, being a model citizen, felt she couldn't blow off her classes. I, of course, had no such compunctions. And galpal was free for the day. So she asked me if I wanted to just go with her to hang out and swim and whatnot. Since I can't swim (at 6'5'', if the waters are ever over MY head, they deserve to win), know a test (although hell yeah, I'd have nailed this chick) when I stumble across one, and was quite smitten with the lovely Dana; I gracefully declined. Although, if memory serves, I still blew off the next day's classes. Other, of course, than the Psych class D and I had together. A final awww moment, and that's enough of that.

The list:

1) Domino Harvey (the real-life British born former model turned L.A. bounty hunter whose life inspired the recent Keira Knightley flick. died on June 27th of this year of accute fentanyl (a painkiller 80X as potent as morphine) toxicity.)

2) Crissy Moran (phenomenal looking shapely young brunette. pretty decent free content on her site.)

3) Sylvia Seegrist (it was 20 years ago today...she fired 20 rounds into a crowded shopping centre near Philly, killing 2 and wounding 8.)

4) Aphrodite (Greek goddess of sexual love.)

5) Dakota Rae Patrick (AMPLE rack, big nipples, boomin' ass. loved the free videos on her website. check 'em out, and, to quote the Canadian Crippler Chris Benoit (Edmonton, represent): Prove Me Wrong.)

Well, I'm off to listen to some Coltrane, perhaps derail my own train, if time permits. Watch some Veronica Mars, and then back to bed in a couple of hours or so. Enjoy your lazy Sunday morning, y'all. Sleep in for me.

You should see me warble Memories sometime. Truly an experience. What kind is entirely best left to the imagination. Although I do a passable Wicked Game and a fucking killer Blue Spanish Sky.

So I'm sitting here with Nine Inch Nails going full blast, trying to get myself psyched up to get ready for the big Halloween shindig tonight. Thus far, no luck. My Halloween costume (my own personal take on The Crow, as I can in no way, shape, or form, EVER hope to pull off Brandon Lee's look, let alone the kung fu; fortuitously, between the 3 sequels (2 straight-to-video) and the several books, this can be done) involves makeup. I haven't worn makeup since I was Mary Kelly back in Whitechapel in a past life. Or was it...nevermind. The point is...right here on top of my head. I've never worn makeup, and this little ''gem'' of an idea necessitates the wearing of much. Perhaps I'll see if one of my neighbors (or perhaps a handyman/maintenance dude) has a paint sprayer which I can borrow.

Let's see what I can do to rid myself of the dreaded PSA to the left. Because it's totally raping, pillaging, and decimating my Google AdSense numbers. I've pretty much given up on traffic until after I can post pictures again, and even then maybe not. However, if what little traffic (sigh) remains to me clicks on the ads or uses the handy Google search bar in their quest to learn just what exactly Cialis does (perhaps even its chemical formula), everything will even itself out. Or not. Whatever. I've never been all that good with the subtlety. or the improvising, which provides as good of a segue as anything else I've got.

Okay, so no Singles. No big. All spontaneous-guy what I can be at times, I came up with the brilliant idea to just hit a theatre and pick something from whatever was there. Try it some time, it's about as fun as it sounds. But it is spontaneous. Well, we ended up seeing something called Consenting Adults, which I can't really recall, as I haven't seen it since. I know it had Kevin Spacey and involved wife-swapping, but beyond that...drawing a fucking blank. Let's just go with: all of my attention was com-fucking-pletely focused on my lovely date that night. From whence I woke up that morning through the bank machine run after work to empty my account (poor, starving college student at the time) to take her out through obsessing over what to wear (Polo sweatshirt, jeans, dark brown shoes) and being nervous whilst waiting for her to come and pick me up. Yep, always been a fucking freeloader. Sue me.

A brief pause whilst I give this makeup thing its day in court. It was fairly inexpensive, so I bought many. Ordinarily, I just decline costume party invitations, as a matter of course. On principle, if I actually had any. But, because I kinda need to leave the Manor, I'm actually contemplating donning the all-black gear and then putting on my face at Carl's at the pre-party party. But only if this makeup thing doesn't look as completely foolish as I suspect. I'll be back in a few...

Okay, that's done. It seems fairly water-soluble (I think that's the right word), but I'll let it set and we'll see what we get. So whilst that's going on, back to the story.

So, Dana and I are sitting in the theatre (a theatre which no longer exists, as it turns out; it was eliminated by one of those big multiplex dealios a few years later), holding hands and enjoying each others' company. Fuck, this is getting all sacchariney (is that even a fucking WORD? god, you're a rube) and my stomach is starting to get a little queasy. I paid for the movie (after all, I asked her out; if she'd asked me out, I might've let her pay; fuck The Rules, this is how I work), and she bought popcorn and a soda. When I go to the movies, no matter how rarely that is, I'm there for the movie, not to take out a 2nd mortgage on the crib to pay for concessions. It was a nice evening out, just like as though I were regular folk. Folks still do that, n'est pas? Go to the movies and then dinner on a date? You know, instead of seeing the sights of fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada; dropping $100 on a weak dinner, although the squid ink risotto wasn't bad; nearly dying by taxicab; seeing the Go Go's in concert on a giant manmade beach; and then, you know, getting fucking MARRIED! Just for example.

The movie over, I scraped her windshield (it was chilly that night; I may have to offer similar services to my neighbor to get her to join our volleyball squad in the future), while she warmed up the car. Then we went to Pizza Hut (again, struggling college student; she still lived at home (she's exactly 3 months older than I am), and I still wonder whatever possessed her to go out with the likes of me; now, you can, too) for 5 bucks 5 bucks 5 bucks or whatever that deal's called. Coincidentally enough, our waitress ended up being a girl I'd slept with once. Why, yes, that WAS awkward, thanks for asking. Fortunately, we'd parted on good terms, otherwise it could've been even worse. See, Carl, my luck is SO much worse than yours could ever be. Revel in that, whenever Fate deals you a shitty hand. Yep, that goes for the rest of y'all, too.

The makeup looks passable, I may yet do this. Although I only tried the white. I haven't attempted the black parts, yet. I'ma try the whole thing again shortly, see whether or not I should cover the goatee, too. Back to the story.

As usual, whence on a date (although it's been, what, 5 months since I last was on one-exactly as long as I've been ''happily'' married), I didn't eat especially much (odd, considering my appetitie, but I'm ALL about the etiquette), and was polite to what's-her-name, foodbringer; and to the lovely Dana. I held open doors and pulled out chairs (still do that, as a matter of actual and factual), I was a regular little Lord Byron. It seemed to work, though. And I ended up with plenty of cold pizza for breakfast the next morning.

Then we retired to my crib for some one-on-one time. Still couldn't convince her to spend the night (used to be persistent, too), but it was still Good Times. I'm not going to go into details. A Gentleman neither tells. And neither will I. Womenfolks read this sometimes, and I only like to offend people intentionally. If it's by accident, I fret. Again, Dana went home, and I went to bed, as I had to be up for work in a few hours once more. Notice a pattern here? Still wonder why I exclusively work graveyard shifts now? No and non. But we made plans to meet up again the following night, Sunday, after I got home from work. Sos I could meet a girlfriend of hers (was the official story, but we all know it was so said girlfriend could see what kind of guy Dana (who kinda had a history of hooking up with slackers, losers, and other riff raff; like, say, ME!) had wound up with This Time) who was coming to town on said Sunday for a brief stay. Turns out Dana was originally from up Edmonton way, also, if a bit past Edmonton, whereas I was located a smidge before Edmonton. As I mentioned earlier, in reference to discovering that I had a new neighbor: It's a Small World After All. I also learned that she had been at a party I'd attended the previous year and turned me down when I'd asked her to dance. An event I had absolutely no recollection of. Hell, I barely recall the nowhere near enough women I've slept with, let alone the multitudes that've rejected me in one form or another. Too many to remember.

(To Be Mercifully Concluded)

All right, I'ma give this makeup deal one last shot, eat something and then possibly make my way out into the early evening. For those of y'all on Daylight Savings Time, don't forget to set your clocks back an hour tonight.