At one point I had a long list of blog links on my page. A few were blogs that I had stumbled across, but more often than not it was a blog link I stole from Twinkie's page. Yes, I am a poser.

Recently I was trying to recreate the code for my lost blog design and I made the choice to only link to two blogs. The first link is to my beloved friend Twinkie. Not only does my entire existence rely on her frequent acknowledgements, but I feel better every time I talk with her. There are very few people who can truly make me laugh and she is one of them. I've known Twinkie for years. We started as co-workers and then became the best of friends.

The other blog I regularly follow is Kiddo. On the surface we are a strange pair. I am a middle-age Southerner with no social life and he is a young and incredibly social Mid-westerner. I am married and have too many kids to mention and he is single and lovin' it. I am Jell-O and he is Crème brûlée. And as much as I want to be Crème brûlée, Jell-O can never be Crème brûlée.

But there was something about his writing that attracted me from the start. I was immediately hooked and found myself checking in to read about his latest adventure. Then Twinkie was hooked and we found ourselves discussing him like he was part of our gang. "Did you read the Kiddo found a great new job?" I would say. "Yes, I am so excited for him," responded Twinkie. It was obvious we had crossed the boundary of being casual observers when he wrote about loosing a job. Twinkie called me as soon as she had read it and we were truly upset and concerned for him.

Now the three of us are planning to meet and share a great adventure. Is that normal? Probably not, but you only live once so find adventure where you can. It seems that others have also discovered Kiddo's charm. VH1 posted a link to his blog post about the Goonies and now others will discover his insightful and funny prose. What do I think of his new-found fame? Love it! Love the bag, love the shoes, love everything.

My husband finds the entire blogging thing abnormal, but I am discovering that the connections you make with others are real. The other day I caught myself telling Megmonster about my friend (Kiddo) that lives in Minnesota. Then I said well not really my friend, but my blog friend.

So here’s the philosophical question of the day: Are blog relationships true relationships or is more like the familiarity you feel from reading a columnist like Liz Smith or George Will?

Recently, a former co-worker suddenly died. He was an online journalist for a major technology publisher had been writing Web-based columns for years. The local newspaper had on online condolences journal and I was surprised by the outpouring of sympathy from across the world. Most were from people who never met Bob but felt that they were part of his world because he had been a part of their lives through his writing. I find it very interesting to see how the internet has changed the expanded our definition of community and expanded its boundaries.

I'm still determined to keep my blog circle to a minimum. The fact is, I barely have enough time to keep up with the few blogs I do read. I'm thinking about adding Beakman to my list. The main reason is that he is related to Twinkie so he needs all the support he can get. But the real reason is that likeTwinkie and Kiddo, Beakman has that same self-deprecating humor that I like. Oh, the misery! The exquisite tragedy! The Susan Hayward of it all!

When Megmonster was little I had no problem sitting down and helping her dress Barbie. In fact, she's still mad that I super glued all her Barbie shoes on so they would not get lost.

But poor Evan gets the short end of the stick when it comes to "boy stuff." I hate video games and I know nothing about Yu-Gi-Oh! and those overly expensive trading cards.

Tonight Evan stood in front of me with his trading cards and begged me to duel with him. I tried to tell him that his dad was better at dueling than I was (it always works when I tell him "I know nuthin bout no video games, go ask yo daddy he knows that technical kinda stuff") but tonight Evan took one look at his father's lifeless body (except for the caveman like snoring emanating from his wide-gaping mouth) and again he begged me to play Yu-Gi-Oh! duel with him.

Feeling desperate at this point I suggested that the cat might like to play cards with him. Evan looked at me and with a disgusted tone said, "Kitty does not have thumbs. You can't duel if you don't have thumbs."

Having no logical comeback, I surrendered and spent the rest of the evening in a Yu-Gi-Oh! duel.

Recently, Megmonster made the comment that my blog reminded her of an author she likes named David Sadaris. I was giddy with excitement that I had possibly won my daughter's admiration and approval.

That's when she said, "But he's funny."

WHAT! I'm not funny? How could she think that I'm not funny? I can make Twinkie laugh, I've made Kiddo laugh. I have witnesses. I am funny dammit, I am!!!

But the more I thought about it (and after reading Sadaris' book Naked) I had to admit that I am not as funny as David Sadaris. But I could be. I mean my family can be just as dysfunctional and as funny as the Sadaris family. In fact, if you add in the sperm donor side of my family, I win hands down.

But how am I supposed let loose and be side-ripping, raunchy, self-deprecating, down-dirty funny when my dear, sweet mother reads this blog? I need another secret identity.

Did anyone watch Extreme Makeover Home Edition last week when they made over the camp for special needs children? OMG, I was crying so hard I could barely finish my cosmopolitan. In fact, every Sunday night following the show I promise to be a better person, less bitchy and save the world.

But thankfully Desperate Housewives is on next and by the end of that hour I am promising myself that I will loose weight and be more like Gabrielle.

Then I wrap the night up with Gray's Anatomy and think about how great life would be if I was thin and a doctor. But do I dream about saving lives and making the world a better place? No I fantasize that I am thin and having a torrid affair with Patrick Dempsey.

I'm telling you Sunday nights are emotionally draining.

The other night I was channel surfing and stopped to watch the end of Romeo & Juliet. It was the "Shakespeare meets MTV" version with Leonardo DiCaprio. Moments later my son Evan walked in the room and started watching too. He was very intrigued by the story and I explained that it was based on a play by Shakespeare and explained who he was.

Since Evan is only six, I sent him on a "mission to find something" right before Juliet (as played by Claire Danes) blew her brains out. When he finally returned, the movie was over and the following conversation ensued:

Evan: "uh is it over, how did it end?"
Me: "For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."
Evan: "Was that milkshake?"
Me: "Milkshake?"
Evan: "You know, milkshake."
Long pause......
Me: "Do you mean Shakespeare?"
Evan: "Yeah, that guy."

The other night hubby and I went shopping for a new skillet. Unlike most men, he likes kitchen gadgets, especially high-end ones. We had decided to look for a reasonably priced Calphalon skillet and fortunately for us we live only 3 miles from a major outlet mall.

While shopping I was distracted by all the great things on sale. And every time the young saleswoman showed me something new "husband" would go into this caveman act and say, we came for a skillet so quit looking at other stuff. Our constant bantering seemed to amuse her, but I've seen the show before and thought he was just being obnoxious.

While he was debating which skillet to purchase my cell phone rang and it was Twinkie. She was all excited about the snake killing post and was grilling me about its color and size. Our conversation was quite animated and that the fact that I was not paying attention to the skillet task seemed to irritate hubby. So after he purchased his skillet he walked out the door and assumed I would follow.

However, since I had been on the phone with Twinkie I had not finished looking around. I watched him through the window as he lit a cigarette and stood there waiting for me to follow. Several minutes later he tossed his cigarette aside, walked back in the store and said, "I thought you were finished shopping." I announced that I was still looking around but now I was ready to leave.

That's when it happened.

As soon as we walked out the door hubby noticed his cigarette, lying on the sidewalk, still burning. The next thing I knew, he bent over and tried to pick it up. But each time he got close the wind would blow it just out of reach. It was like a slow-motion image with hubby stooped over like a hunchback chasing his last meal. This went on for what seemed like an eternity until finally he grasped it, stood up and took a celebratory puff.

I was speechless at what I had just witnessed. Could this really be the person I had sworn to love for eternity? Finally I recovered and (sarcastically) said "Ah, honey are you out of cigarettes?" to which he responded, "No but they are almost $3 a pack." Then he gave me this look, like I was the stupid one for asking.

It's moments like this that you just to shut up and stay quiet. Then you can post it on your blog!

Have you ever had a friend that whenever the two of you are together something memorable happens? Well that is what my friendship with Twinkie is like.

It's like there's an unseen energy which feeds off of us to bring out every weirdo and crazy within a 50 mile radius. Of course, we seem to know most of the crazies on a first name basis so I am not sure what that says about us.

I was reading Twinkie's post about Mean Old Man's Halloween party and I started to cry. While I know she will have a fabulous time, it makes me sad thinking about the possible chaos that might happen if only we were together.

Two memories from Halloweens past --

1. I spents hours working on an authentic hippie costume for Halloween. Twinkie and I were heading out for Halloween karaoke but first we were going to visit Mean Old Man. We thought he was having his normal Halloween bash, but it ended up being just Meanie, Mateo and the Colonel hanging out watching TV. Before we could get to Mean Old Man's we had to stop for gas because the car was on empty due my habit of only putting $5 dollars in the tank at a time. While I was putting my $5 in, a drunk redneck yells across the lot at me "Hey, what are you, Pocahontas or something?" Dumb redneck.


2. Getting cornered in the karaoke bar bathroom by a crazy woman who looks at Twinkie dressed as a witch and tells her, "I don't need to dress like a witch because I really am one." Then the woman proceeds to grab my hand to tell my fortune. I am trying to pull away as the woman is screaming "You're going to die, you're going to die!!!" Twinkie attempts to head for the door until I stop her by crying out "don't you leave me." Then the woman pauses, still tightly clutching my hand and says, very seriously "but you're going to get a bunch of money first; THEN YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!!!!! THEN YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!!!!! At that point Twinkie announces that she thinks she just wet her pants (from laughing hysterically of course) and the woman looks at us like we are crazy.

The other week, I was opening up the "shop" and I noticed a very, very large black worm on the floor. My first response was to pick it up and throw it out the door. When I bent down I realized that worms don't have pointy heads and stripes around their body.

That's when it dawned on me that it was a baby snake. I thought about calling one of "the guys" that work nearby but felt silly because it was so small. Also it was moving slow, so surely I could kill it myself.

I picked up a broom and started beating it. After the first wack it raised up in a strike position so I closed my eyes and beat the hell out of it. By the look of all the holes in the drywall I must have missed quite a few times. When the head of the snake finally came off I stopped.

Then I stood there looking at it. About this time Mrs. Eunice came in. I asked her if she would like to pick it up and she said NO WAY. Then she said, that looks like a copperhead to me. Not being a snake expert, I don't know if she was right but I really didn't care. She held the broom and I held the dust pan and together we scooped it up. I could see the forked tongue sticking out of its mouth.

Once we started scooping it up, the body started to wiggle. Who knew that snakes keep going even after the head comes off. The whole thing took less than ten minutes but it seemed like hours. All day Mrs. Eunice kept telling me how they probably live in the attic and they're falling out of the ceiling vents. Now I find myself constantly staring at the ceiling.

Speaking of slimy things. I didn't have to think long about the possibility of writing Starla back. Seems that right after she wrote, she got a small payment on her trust fund, took the money, left the new "wonderful girlfriend" and is currently on the move looking for her next victim. I wonder where she will land once her money runs out.

There must have been some strange movement in the stars last week. Several people I had cut out of my life (for various reasons) tried to make contact with me.

The most bizarre was a letter from Starla. The letter was not mailed directly. Since I am in a bizarre type of self-imposed witness protection program, Starla and other undesirable relatives do not know were we moved. Starla sent the letter through her mother, who forwarded it to me.

Of course it was full of stories of how she has not touched any drugs since I had the police rescued her from the supposed abductors. To bad it's not true.

She also told me about her new girlfriend and how happy they are. Then there were the apologies, and how much she missed me. Deep down she really does feel bad, I know that. But her disfunction runs so deep that she destroys anyone she touches.

It took a lot for me to get off that ride and I am not about to get back on.

The other day I had a business meeting with the owner of a local historic theater. Since the multiplex has moved into town, this small theater has seen revenues plunge. As part of his new survival plan the owner is renting the theater to non-profit and business groups.

During our meeting he was thinking about possibly renting to a local church group. He told me that he had been thinking about it when he was down on his knee.

I responded " Oh I did not realize you were religious." That's when he kindly pointed to his cane and said, "Uh, I just had knee surgery."

Needless to say, I felt stupid.