I have not joined a cult, but have nothing against those who have.

Well, well, well, if it isn't taytyme! I bet that until a few days ago you thought I'd gone and got roped in by the Moonies, or at the very least forgotten about you (which in its own way is a kind of sad, sad "might as well have become a Moonie" sort of scenario). No, friends. I've just been as busy as a slutty little beaver. Here's the what's up:

Last Saturday I forgot about remembering to see Fair Warning, the self-proclaimed "baddest David Lee Roth era Van Halen cover band in the world." However, I did play ping-pong at Melrose Billiards, where I am gaining a reputation as "one of the guys that plays ping-pong here." On a trip to the bathroom between matches (not just the smallest but also the dirtiest bathroom in our fair city, and yes I have on occasion relieved myself at the Springwater S.C.& L.), I daydreamed about the possibility of a cutish lady-person asking to get in on table rotation (winner keeps the table, but you can get in on rotation, see?). Well Moses Malone, if I didn't learn the old lesson about being careful what you wish for! Up to the table she came, all thinking she was badder than Fair Warning and not really meeting the criterion of cuteness. Lady, yes. But more up the alley of the brothers, you know? She brought a certain level of intensity to the game, but her total lack of discipline made her easy prey for a seasoned intimidator such as myself. By the way, have you ever looked at a Victoria's Secret catalog? Stay with me here, people. You know those "sexy underwears" made of three strings connected above the butt's crack by an engagement ring? Well she did, and she was sporting them with low-cut jeans that became more unsettling each time she bowed to retrieve an errant ping-pong ball. Not even The Snuggler shows his trunk with such abandon! Brother, the crowd at Melrose is nuts!