Hold onto your pants, girls and boys. If you stay until the end, there'll be a special treat.

On Thursday, I drove down to Atlanta with Clarkton, who is normally a lovely companion to take to dental conventions since she is both cynical and funny. This time, about the time we got to Commerce, GA, Clarkton realized that she was currently experiencing the onset of a kidney stone. Fun Stuff. So I drove the rest of the way, and we checked into our hotel, while Clarkton took every form of OTC painkiller and cranberry supplement she could get her hands on. These did not help.

Friday morning at 8:15, I went to a class hosted by Ron Grant . Ron paints teeth. That's pictures on teeth. Witness exhibit A. Yes, that's Adam touching the hand of God from the Sistine Chapel ceiling painted on a two unit bridge. Yes, it is fucking hysterical. I almost snorted when he put the image up on screen. Apparently, no one else in the class found it as amusing as I did.

I went up to the room to check on Clarkton, who was feeling a bit better, and we did normal convention stuff. Fast forward to Friday night, when all hell broke loose. There were tornados in large quantities in Cobb County. Clarkton woke up at 4 AM when the warning sirens started going off. The first time, the voice announced that it was merely a test, but then, at 4:30, they went off again, suggesting that we "seek shelter immediately." In our 11th floor room, with the wall length picture window, Clarkton decided that rather than wake me and head down to the lobby or huddle in the bathroom, she would get back under the covers. This turned out to be the right decision for us, but others in Cobb County were not so lucky. There were many smashed houses.

I drove Clarkton's car back to Asheville today, and she was very grateful, but spent some time in the hospital this evening, where she received the Good Painkillers.

Then I went to Peterson's house. Peterson's sister (GP) is a dominatrix. Some of you may recall that I told you to go fucking buy her book two weeks ago. You can listen to her on David Lee Roth's radio show. I was kind of excited, cause she's got a book, she's doing a book tour, she's a prominent dominatrix. You pick a reason. Peterson was already pretty tipsy when I got there, and everyone was having a wonderful time. Rather than being imposing or intimidating, GP turned out to be about 5'4", with shoulder length red hair (is anyone surprised). She has freckles. I offered GP a cigarette. We went outside to smoke them. Peterson's wife came out to take our picture, and GP suggested that we makeout for the camera. I'm not one to argue (with redheads OR dominatrixes). Then Peterson's wife went back inside and the making out continued. She was incredibly complimentary, to the point of embarrassing me a little, and she's pretty damn hot, especially wearing a backwards baseball cap. She kept asking if I thought she was gay. I had to say she probably has a little of Teh Gay. She kept telling me I had a Shane vibe. Then she proceeded to teach me the Shane Look, and I practiced, and we made out a little more. Then we both realized that we were making out in front of a sliding glass door, and everyone inside knew exactly what we were doing.

Even if your little sister is a grownup and married, I can understand how it would be odd to see her making out with your co-worker. Perhaps especially then.

We went back in, she gave me a copy of her book (get your own, bitches), and I went to K's birthday party. She has my phone number, should she return to town. I have her email address, should I decide to vacation in LA.

So tonight, wearing a shirt reading "The Devil Made Me Do It. with your mom" I enticed a fucking sexy dominatrix. Self esteem=100%. Women in my bed=0%. But I am on the rag, so my white sheets will survive unscathed.

Unlike my carpet.