I think the only solution is to broadcast SPAM-ku into outer space, thus assigning proper alignment to the universe.

Funny thing about being being caught without pants. I was in a male coworker�s office yesterday, without a doubt engaged in some sort of elitist mocking, when I noticed pants hanging on a hook on the wall behind him. Since his desk faces the door, there was simply no way to know if these were spare pants or not. He was certainly taken aback when I winked and asked if he was wearing anything under that desk.

Yeah. So. I�m trying to fight the latest outbreak of illness, which I�m labeling �meningitis,� because that�s what I do. In reality, it�s just a stiff neck, earache, and splitting headache combo that leaves me wearing a heating pad hat in the comfort of my own home. I take it off when visitors arrive, and Fuzzy Jesus has promised not to tell anyone about it, since he�s so terribly pleased with the new theme song I wrote for him. I might try to sell it to the Goo Goo Dolls. The song, not the illness.

So what exactly are the high-powered publishing professionals into these days? Let me tell you, we�re laughing at this, which we�ve seen before, but we�re really into Fucker and Amun this time. Oh yeah, and making books. Sure, we love that.

Gotta run. ewenorker has a haiku challenge on the table, and I must make a strong showing. And J. just e-mailed that Kelly Willis is doing a live chat right now.

(I still need apartment tips and rejection letters, kids. E-mail, please.)