October 24
 

Scroll down! There are bonus Johnny Shutup actions shots! I'm so totally serious! They're gonna rock your world!
 
 

Note:  One chin, mouth closed.  How I normally look, I think...
 
 
 
 

MOST IMPORTANT NEWS:

I have a new email address.  Somewhere between 2 years ago and right now, Connix was sold to a different  company.    Somewhere between the time I left for Chicago and returned, the different company dumped Connix to Mindspring and disappeared, leaving me with no mail.  After several weepy phone calls and about an hour of being on hold, I determined that Mindspring were the devil and that I needed a new ISP, pronto.  Nick suggested to me that I look into IMAP mail rather than POP mail, a sentiment I got behind although not completely understanding why.  However, he was right, and I got a swell new email account for 5 dollars a month.  For all of your future Dana-mailing needs, I present you with the new email address.  Make a note of it and get on with your life.  That's what I'm doing!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I have the stupidest song in my head.  And not the whole song.  Just a few lines, because I can't remember how the rest of it goes.  Because the lines are so, so stupid and because I believe firmly in sharing, here you go:
 

I'm real cool! I chill to the max! I  might act crazy but I don't smoke crack! No way!
 

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, we'll make with the entry. (And FYI, it's a song off a tape [before CDs came out, even!] I used to love.  LOVE.  And some of you may have heard the story of the bottle of Southern Comfort, the nightclub, me grabbing the ass of the singer, the grinding and bumping, the falling down the stair? This is that guy.)
 
 
 

I'm a Little Entry, Short and Stout:
 
 
 
 

I got a tortoise about a month ago.  I never mentioned that, did I?  I got a tortoise! I'd had turtles a long while ago (a long, long while ago.  And I named them all "Tommy".  Except for the other tortoise I had, who was named something in Russian, because he was given to me by Leon, who is Russian.  Leon has also apparently disappeared from the face of the earth.  That's neither here nor there and has nothing to do with my story, so I'll not continue.)

I got a tortoise about a month ago!  A Russian (heh, my story DID fit in.  I'm a champion!) tortoise who, after much deliberation, I named Johnny Shutup.  So, for a while he'd suck back into his shell whenever we walked into the room or looked at him.  (Note:  I'm fairly sure the technical term is not "suck back into his shell" but I'm at a loss for what it might actually be) Then, he learned that our hands are the bearers of mighty bounty! Manna from heaven, practically!  He no longer hid from us as we stomped in and out of the room!  He was A Pet.

Having a tortoise as a pet is almost like keeping a little old man dinosaur.  It's cool and funny to watch him eat.  I'll toss the food down.  He'll see it.  He lumbers over and pounces.  Literally.  With his little uncircumcised penis head.  Pouncing on the mountain of food.   It's not funny when I write about it, but it cracks me up to watch.  We all know that that is because I am just about as easily amused as they come.  Me.  Thing.  Ha, hah!
 

Heh!  Pure entertainment GOLD, this little guy is!
 
 
 

Right.  So, being extremely pleased with the fact that I'd not killed Johnny Shutup with neglect during our brief time together, and also being extremely pleased with what kind of a cool little creature he is, I started sharing the news at work!  "You, there!  Yes, you!! Guess what?!"  I cried.  "What, Dana?!" the random person would answer.  "I have grand news! Grand news!!" "What is your news, Dana?!"  "Why!  I have recently purchased a TORTOISE!"  "Huzzah! That IS grand news! The grandest news of all!"
 

I skipped around, joyfully spreading word of my good fortune.  People were so very happy for me. So happy that one day, the other day, someone brought in a bag.  "Here.  Here are radish greens for Johnny Shutup!"  A gift! How thoughtful!  I told many of this kindness.  "Johnny will LOVE these!"  I said to myself.  "Or at least, I think he will!"
 

The next morning, I arrived at work very very early. I arrived early because Angelo was having some surgery, and I needed to be there with my family.  So, 6:30, I'm here.  9:30, everything with Angelo is done, and I'm back in my office.  I walk in.  I am assaulted by a smell.  Let me describe the smell as best as I can:  Imagine you are a person in a coma.  Imagine you are in said coma for three months.  Imagine then, miracle of miracles, you awaken, and upon your awakening, someone says "Here! Breathe into this! We need your oxygen to pipe into this room!"

That is what my office smelled of.  I noticed that the garbage had not been removed.  I stuck all the pails out in the hall.  I propped the door open.  Still, the smell lingered.   I quizzed people on the stench.  "Do you SMELL THAT?? DO YOU?? GAH! It smells like BAD BREATH in here!!"  Everyone agreed that it did, in fact, smell an awful lot like stank ass ho cooter breath.
 

Then, I got used to it. You know how you'll get used to a smell?  I got used to it.  Smell?  Eh.  Whatever.  I am working at my computer, doing busy work-type things, as I always do because I am a HARD WORKER.  Yes, I am.  Working.  I look over, to that space between the iMac and the printer.  What do I see?

You know what I see.  You do!  You definitely do.  I see a plastic bag, tied closed, filled with now rotten, stinking, soggy radish greens.  Heh, heh.  The smell?  It's me.  I am the owner of the stench.
 
 

Har! Look at his tounge! Lookit!! That's funny!
 

How The Story Ends:

I snuck that shit out in the hall, where the still unemptied pails were.  People complained and complained and walked around like "Man, something STINKS!"  But I didn't care, because it wasn't in my office.  Ahhh.
 
 

 if you want to read what i wrote the other day, it's here. if you want turdmonster, he's here.  if you want to see my links, they're here. if you want to mail me, that's here.