Would you tell someone if you'd had an erotic dream about them?

Who doesn’t love Sunday brunches around here?

The Oracle and The Guide arrive this morning.

Finally, I’ve managed to get my act together and upload photo’s from the birthday weekend up the West Coast. Sorry, I had to choose photo’s without recognizable faces to protect the guilty.

Angel is probably going to kick my ass for this.

Okay. So I've been a little quiet this week. It's not my fault really. Fine. It is. I'll take responsibility.

I’ve tried to start writing this 4 or 5 times now. I just don’t seem to be able to get the words out.

Okay folks. It’s over.

The big draw and the big lie of religion is that if you sacrifice, you'll be rewarded.

I had the strangest dream last night:

Midway through last night’s movie, and a little bit out of the blue, I thought, "We are all such assholes."

Let’s face it. Leaving a girl with a little intrigue and half the details is like throwing a snake dipped in nitroglycerin into a cage full of over caffeinated monkeys. First there’s going to be some excitement and then it’ll blow up in their furry little faces.

So the magic car and I are happily stopped at a traffic light when ... BANG ... rear-ended.

This weekend was ”Feed Clare Weekend”.

Angel called me last night with bad news. Something in his tone made my heart thud against my ribs before he had even said the words. And after I hung up the phone I sat on the couch and tried to get my head around the unfairness of it all.

On Monday night I watched an American sitcom where the son gets himself into trouble by drawing a classmate in a less than flattering way. The father is called to the school and gets himself into a very similar predicament with the well endowed child’s well endowed mother. At the time I dismissed it as silly American show, until something similar happened to me.

What is the point of making the lid so complicated to pry off when the express purpose of the medication in the bottle with the very complicated lid is to put me out of my mucous-sodden, delirium-driven misery. The same misery that rendered me almost completely unable to perform mundane tasks such as opening child-proofed flu medication for the entire weekend.

On Wednesday night I went to a birthday dinner at Balducci’s.

I hate being sad. It seems such a waste of my time and energy.

I’m a bit of a kid when it comes to my birthday. Any birthday actually. No. No. Let’s face it; any party worthy event.