My number one search term by about a million is some variant of blow job. Blow job shot, blow job story, blow job vegan, you are all looking for this post.

On 12-6, someone searched for “fliss blowjob cream.” I think you’ll need to check Hangover Journals for that.

Someone wants to see “Iorek fanfic gay.” I don’t know what gay polar bears in heavy armor get up to, but I’m sure it’s their own business.

“do you hate the theme song to the l word” Yes. Everyone does. Betty Sucks. Move on.

“why don’t I like boys anymore?” cause they smell funny.

“hairy armpits” “park slope” No comment.

And shortly after Thanksgiving, we captured the cultural zeitgeist nicely with “fuck home.”

Oh, the rock star lifestyle is really difficult to pull yourself out of. I mean, here I am, a responsible Candler resident with a huge garden, two dogs, and a bitchy cat, and all of a sudden I went to three parties last night and came home with a French lady in a box and a pair of handcuffs.

Party number one was a work party. There were ex hookups there for Foxy to freak out about, and the less said about it the better.

Party number two was the extrablogaversapaloozathon ( I think that’s right). All my rowdy bloggie friends were there, REDACTED as well as the winner of the cleaning-out-our-freezer award, Bruisin’ Ales, who totally bitch-slapped us with a keg of peach malt beverage. So much for their good publogicity. I won Biggest Slacker. I don’t really feel like the biggest slacker. I mean, maybe I drink too much and lay on the couch on Sundays instead of blogging about Important Issues of the Day, but I mean really, 3 times a week isn’t that bad. I think people really wanted to give me an award, but they didn’t much care which one. And since Fliss and Gordon won everything else, Biggest Slacker was left to me. Mad props to Gourmet Girl for winning best post and best new blog! She totally deserves it.

I never really thought of myself as someone who would actually write “mad props”. Oh well, another personal illusion shattered.

Party number three (oh no, not done yet) was a bachelor party for the other half of the bachelorette from last week. Not that they aren’t both ladies. It’s just that one is perhaps a smidge more of a lady than the other. Anyway, there was a blow up doll with no holes in it. I didn’t really understand that. What’s the point of a blow up doll if it doesn’t have any holes in it? Doesn’t that just make it someone to get you into the carpool lane? This blow up doll was wearing Nascar underwear, cause she’s also a lady. There were handcuffs and prizes and some very complicated points system thing.

In conclusion, fuck Bruisin’ Ales Dogfish Head for putting carbonated Peach Tang in a keg and charging innocent people $100 for it, yay for Errington Thompson, yay for 5 pounds of Halloween candy sharing the couch with me this afternoon, and I’m to Ebay to see how much a French Lady Barbie is worth. Ta!

Update: Not Much.

Check out How to Change the World’s guide to maximizing the professional impact of your Linked In account.

We all need more websites like we need more of the above, but Renkoo is better than Evite.

Instead of the traditional party model, where you already know who what when where, Renkoo allows groups of people to plan parties at which you are unsure of the when and where (ie: most of my Friday nights.)

They’re still in beta, but you can signup here.

I am heinously behind in my blogging. I apologize.

I have a 30 posts waiting around in my head to be written, so how about a mash-up?

On Halloween, we bar-hopped in costume from Scully’s to Bobo. I went as Harry Potter, after he loses his magic because it all belonged to The Big V in the first place and Our Boy Wonder is forced to conduct his life in a fashion approaching normalcy by taking his A levels. So I looked like a 19 year old boy in a tie and glasses. The Director was a hot dog. And I mean Hot. But when she and Hidey Ho switched costumes and HH came out of the bathroom with nothing underneath the dog suit but her undies, which were clearly visible through the arm holes, Swirly was forced to comment, “If all weiners looked like that, I’d be straight.” Yes, unfortunately, penises do not look like girls in underwear.

Also, The Puerto Rican was wearing an Asheville Assault (their website is down, what up?) sweatshirt and sweatpants. I wasn’t quite sure what his character choice was, since he just seemed like he was on his way home from the gym. Then, it clicked. “Are you a lesbian?” It was apparently the funniest thing he’d heard all week. He asked for a wig, and we demanded to know what self-respecting lesbian wears one of those. He told everyone he could get to stand still long enough.

I just finished listening to Lonesome Dove, A Farewell to Arms, The End, and For Whom the Bell Tolls. Awesome, Meh, Sad it’s over, and Awesome.

On Friday and Saturday I covered two years worth of dental terms, materials, and procedures in 18 hours. I am glad I don’t have to take the test yet. As it was, I felt that the class was wonderful and educational. There was no stress, and when I didn’t know something or couldn’t write fast enough to get it down, I wrote something constructive like, “Check out anatomy books from library, make photocopies.” I went through 1.5 pens. Brand new pens.

I have decided not to care about the election anymore. I was burned in 2004. I managed to convince myself that everyone who voted for W hated me personally, and that was why they voted the way they did. There was moroseness. Now, I will vote, and I will discuss the issues, and if I ever learn to talk to people on the phone without my stomach hurting, I may even volunteer for something, but I won’t care. Not even a little. My heart is icy, feel the burn.

They are learning how to turn gay sheep straight. If only they could manage that with the Republicans. I’m tired of them making normal queers look bad.

New blogs I like but won’t put on my sidebar because it’s long enough already: The Consumerist, Get Rich Slowly, Craft, Dealhack, Lifehacker, Make, Wonkette. Honorary mention cause it’s not a blog: Instructables. Yes, I realize that everyone in the known world has heard of these months, years, possibly eons ago. Can’t you just let me be?

I administer a message board over on the local women’s site Sheville.org. I used to be the webmaster of this site, until I figured out that making web pages makes me want to climb walls and fall from ceilings. So I quit, but since the message boards were kind of my pet project from the beginning, I still pay attention to them, feed them occasionally, and approve the new accounts. We get maybe 10-15 applications per day for new accounts, with only one of them per week being an actual legitimate user. The rest are spammers.

There are several ways I can tell this.

1) A Russian email address. Most Ashevillains do not have a Russian email address.

2)Since Sheville is a site for Asheville women, it has a lesbian reputation. Therefore, applicants who express an interest in either “big cocks” or “Angry Huge Dicks” are right out. By the same token, anyone who wants to talk about Bukkake or Chan can do so elsewhere.

3)Any drug name references in the interest, profession, or webpage field of the form. There isn’t a huge call for cialis or propecia in the lesbian community.

4)Anyone who talks about hacking in their profile is not allowed within 50 feet of my message board. You can go play with Fox News, thank you, but leave my irrelevant little site out of it.

This list is merely posted as a public service. Spammers, please try to be a bit more creative. Also, I thought my hits would skyrocket if I mentioned Bukkake.

Check out this comment on an old post of mine. You can read the post if you want, but I guarantee you the comment is way more entertaining thanmost of the stuff I come up with on a regular basis.

This is perhaps a bit late, but I got a story published over on Flasheville a few weeks ago. Check me out!

To get your stuff published, “submit your 1000 word or shorter fiction piece to flashus@flasheville.com. Include your work in the body of the e-mail with a word count and a short (one or two sentences) biography of yourself, with a link to your website or blog if you have one. Failure to follow guidelines will result in public flogging.”

I failed to follow guidelines, and just now realized it. I’d prefer my flogging to be administered by Edgy Mama, if possible.

Top search terms this month were: asheville hookers (I see them every morning on my way to work. They’re at the Gas-Up when I’m driving, and if I’m biking, I usually see a few down by Goodtimes and the Laundromat. Just so you know.), can a hot beer make you lose a baby (I’m thinking you oughta shell out for the professional. A hot beer abortion sounds like a recipe for disaster.), why are dykes so boring (We like to nest. And also, up yours.), piggyback rides from linda hamilton (That sounds like fun. Where do I sign up?), Nurse Nancy Alien Sex Room 4 (I think Mulder has that pr0n.), gay feet (like happy feet, but lighter), green cat vomit (eats too much grass), my cat smells like ass (Don’t give it a bath. Diet is the key.), cigarettes and boobs (The most beautiful replacement for currency ever developed.), and what is there to fucking do in Nacogdoches (when I visited, we played alot of Trivial Pursuits, so I can recommend that.).

Top posts: My Labor Day Weekend, 20″ Biceps, Naming of the New, Pimpin’ Teh Gay, Like An 80’s Night Virgin, No Softball in the River, Losing Softball in the Rain, While It’s Nice To Be Wanted,, and Skinny Dip Falls. Apparently, you guys REALLY like it when I get action.

Ahhh, home. Where you can actually sit down on the toilet seat. It’s a wonderful feeling.

I wore Swirly’s hat. I screamed my love for Snatch. I ran a spotlight for the first time. I stuck dollar bills in my boobs.

All my friends kept running up to me and telling me that Ashvegas was at Asheville Vaudeville. At first, I thought they meant The Outlaws, and I was like, “Where?” but then I realized they meant the blogger, and I was like, “Oh, yeah, he’s a nice guy, he’s on the front row.”

I have to give blood at noon tomorrow.

Hydration is the name of the game.

Asheville Vaudeville, 7pm, New French Bar Courtyard, Saturday. Drink some, laugh some, tip some. Also, I still have cake.

I don’t usually repost content from other blogs, mostly because if you wanted to read the other blog, I figure you would have found it already. But this made me scream out loud:

Iowa Not Like Dar Williams Song, Report Disappointed Lesbians.

“I thought Iowa would help me find a way to say ‘I love you’ to Latonya,” confessed passenger Hillary Uxbridge. “I had it all planned out in my head. I would tell her, and then she’d say that she feared that to fall in love with me would be to fall from a great and gruesome height. And then we would make out.”

Since I have actually experienced this same disappointment with Iowa, well except I had someone to make out with, I felt this post deserved some pimpin’. Not that FakeGayNews.com needs any help from my little blog.

Also worth noting over there: Knocked Up Lesbian Has Some Explaining To Do