At It Again, InDEED! (Men and Ladies' Parts Edition)

Thank you, Darise, for a good catch on the IMDB. Turns out Don Cheadle is turning 42 today! And is shamelessly promoting it on IMDB for me to see—you know—so I will rue the day. Well, Don, I can't rue the day with you hiding behind these shades, that's for sure. I can't see into your eyes, Don; I can't feel your soul or remember our deep, timeless connection. Regardless, happy birthday.

Speaking of "at it again," you'll never guess who I saw today. This guy I totally should have dated my first year here. I talked to him a bit today, and he's just as cute, funny, and smart as I remembered except now he's married. How does that happen? I met him my first semester at UF and was a little put off by how interested in me he seemed. Even so, I should note that I didn't know many people, and he could well have been a serial killer. Plus, I don't flirt so well. Anyway, my ovaries were tapdancing as we were talking, which is unusual. I was asking them, "Really? Really, ladies? I was thinking we didn't want to reproduce." But, according to Cassie and Simone, we want to have this man's children. Indeed, they attempted to talk me into a love-child, and we know how ill-advised that can be. At any rate, I've only had this ovular reaction to one other person, and I find it quite humorous that one's instinctive genetic testing works in this way. "Pretty babies!," the ladies were telling me. "Smart, pretty, sweet babies..." When I told Marlin and Randle about this at lunch, they seemed to think I'm a little "out there." Then again, when the waitress tried to take away Randle's tray, she protested, "No, I'm still eating my olives." Olives. Yeah, I'm the weird one.

Okay, okay, on a final note, for those of you who don't frequent commedienne Margaret Cho's website (except for my parents and/or the faint of heart), drop everything you are doing and proceed immediately to her site . She's set her poem "My Puss" to music and has filmed a video. This video makes me weep with laughter. Right on, Margaret! If I can admit to speaking with my ovaries, she can certainly brag about her puss.