I really should go to bed. I haven't slept

I really should go to bed. I haven't slept for three days. My muse has had my brain squished between her hands. But now the spark has gone, and my mind has gone fuzzy like peachfur

or blue mold. Thoughts thrash their way through the fog to the surface, but disappear as soon as I look away. I need sleep, but I'm too tired and my mind is in the Kentucky derby

because I am obsessed with tiny men and horses. All I can think about are those harlequin diamonds, really tiny male haunches mounting those hefty equine buns. It's all I think

small underwear to attract these types of fanboys. The age of the good journalism is now over, and I had to find another jog to keep my

bills paid. So that's why I found myself wearing underwear three sizes too small filled with dollar bills. I tripped on my mega high heels again and landed SMACK right on top of

the music machine. My debut at karaoke stripper night was a complete disater. Especially since I chose "Stand by Your Man" from the set. I picked myself off the slippery stage and

made a hasty exit, while at the same time trying to get dressed. With one leg into the arm of my sweater and my jeans pulled over my head, I hoped I'd disguised myself sufficiently

as one of the fools in the Dogma film my mistress' husband was shooting. I moaned & flailed a bit. He saw he'd been cuckolded but kept the scene because & I quote him verbatim, "

If God is Love, then appreciation is no surprise."